Disclaimer: I do not own HP, Ats, or BtVS. Or a bunny, a Corvette, a Cocker Spaniel, a mansion, the state of Texas….I could go on, you know.

A/N: I'll be revising the previous chapter to get rid of all those nasty mistakes riddled through them. Forgive me. . . .Alas, I know not proper grammar.

The Necromancer

Chapter 9: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

"Rupert. . . . Or are you still going by Ripper these days?"

Molly walked into the kitchen, leaning against the sink where pots were scrubbing themselves midair. She crossed her arms, staring at the man who was shutting the door behind him.

"Buffy has exceptional hearing," Giles began, a pointed glance toward the room they had just left.

"I honestly don't care," Molly snapped. "Those other guests staying in my home have very good hearing as well, supernatural, actually. But at the moment, I'm going to let the fact that my home has recently become a hotel for some of the most dangerous creatures in history pass—because it's not them I'm currently angry with."

Giles opened and closed his mouth like a guppy, somewhat backed down by the furious woman before him. When he'd first arrived, the sparkling, happy hostess in her eye had deceived him into believing that maybe she had forgiven or forgotten their past together. . . . Obviously, he was wrong.

"Speak, you bloody bastard," she hissed, giving her sons a run for their knuts. Her voice was low, more dangerous than any of her children had ever heard. Thankfully, none of them were in the vicinity. "I said speak!"

"What do you want me to say, Molly?" Giles asked, meeting her enraged gaze. "Do you want me to apologize? I do. I'm honestly sorry that I hurt you, but I can't pretend that I'm sorry I left." He took a shallow breath, approaching her. "Are you sorry? I doubt it. You have a happy life, Molly. Beautiful children, a husband—I kept track of you off and on until I heard the announcement for Charlie's birth. You moved on. It was the right thing to do."

"Yes. I did move on." Molly face was flushed in emotion. "And I am happy—so much happier than I would have been with you. I did do the right thing. However, I was referring to you, as you well know—you are the one who made the mistake." She looked away from him, taking the tea kettle off of the eye of the stove with a flick of her wand. "You're the one who made the mistake. . . ." she repeated, softly. "This discussion isn't about our relationship. I'm not angry about that. I'm bitter because you never came back to your true friends. You let that stupid sorcerer lead you toward the dark arts. Then, when you turned from all that, you didn't come back and help us."

Giles' frowned deepened as he watched the rim of her eyes redden with unshed tears. Molly continued, "I was suffering so much. . . .Loosing my family to this war throughout the years. . . .And you were powerful enough to help—but what did you do? You left evil for a pile of books to make your father proud, to try to make up for your rebellious years."

The man reached out, trying to touch her arm, but she jerked away from him. "I didn't know how to make things better, Molly. I couldn't use my wand anymore and the other magicks. . .I wouldn't go down that path again. It was my weakness, and it was the only thing that could possibly help your cause. If it helps you to know, I've fallen off that straight, Watcher's path quite a few times, trying to fight with the side of good."

Giles stepped back. "There's a girl out there in the other room who is proof of that. I think we both made the right choices, Molly. . . .We just weren't meant for the same world."

Molly cocked her head, lips pursed. "Then what are you doing here, Rupert?"

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Draco drug his feet, a scowl across his face as he struggled against Fred and George's hold on the ropes confining his arms against his body. The twins, being almost a foot taller than the 'Slytherin Prince' and quite a bit stronger only looked at one another with amused smirks.

"Come on!" Fred said.

"Get in already," George added.

"It's not like there's a particular large rat. . . ."

"Waiting to nibble at your toes. . . ."

Fred grinned. "Just a boggart or two: nothing that scary."

"I. Am. Not. Going. In. That!" Draco growled, glaring at the wardrobe as if he could somehow make it explode with his mind. "This isn't a broom closet! This is. . . .This is a box!"

"Oh, do shut up," George said, rather politely.

The twins reached forward, wrenching open the doors in one elaborate movement. Draco grew still between them, an arched brow raised, his mouth forming a little 'O'. Obviously, broom closets could come in more than one size.

Through the rather small entrance lay a wide, circular foyer, three closed doors branching out. And, indeed, a small stack of brooms sat against one wall of the entrance. Fred and George did not have to use much force to drag Draco into this 'closet'.

"This is just a rental, before you get too impressed," Fred stated. He shared a mischievous look with his brother before adding, "It's for our guests—the ones who don't like sunlight and their friends. What room should we drop him in, George?"

"Well, one's empty at the moment, but I vote we put him in with the blue thing. . . .err. . . .woman," George answered, hiding his amusement. "I believe she'd get along quite famously with our young Mr. Malfoy. They have quite a bit in common."

Fred nodded. "Both assuming they're gods and all."

Draco's eyes widened. "Blue?"

0000000000000000000

"Hello, lover."

Spike stared at her, somewhat abashed, but his eyes told that he was watching for a reaction.

Buffy blinked, slowly, deliberately, as if seeing if he'd go away. When he didn't, she took a step forward, a sigh issuing from her lips. With one hand, she reached out, touching his arm, giving it a little squeeze.

"You're real," she said. "You're really here."

"That I am, slayer," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I came back, soul and all."

Before the two witches beside them could react, Buffy had pushed herself into his arms, giving him a short hug. "I'm glad you're with us. When did. . . ."

"Not too long after the Hellmouth sunk," Spike explained. "The amulet was sent to Angel's crew, and I popped in, all ghosty."

"Wait a minute. . . .You've been back?" Buffy pushed away from him, throwing up a hand that smacked Spike across the cheek. The vampire winced. "You were back all this time and didn't tell me!" she snapped, her tone bitter.

"You didn't know?"

The question didn't come from Spike, but someone else, further down the hallway. Buffy tensed, watching that shadow move forward.

Angel frowned at Spike but automatically looked back to Buffy. "I assumed Andrew told you about him."

Buffy didn't answer, jaw slack. She took a cautious step forward. "Angel," she whispered. "You made it out of L.A." The slayer glanced from vampire to vampire. "Can someone tell me why I haven't been in 'the-know' as of late? What? Does Hell always have to rise before anyone speaks to me? I can't believe you two!"

"Excuse me," Ginny interrupted. "Hermione and I will be heading to the other room, so that you can have a bit more privacy. Just ignore us," the red-head finished with sarcastic smirk.

The witch grabbed Hermione's arm, pulling her along to the girls' bedroom. "I don't know if they're going to fight or snog," she hissed to her friend. "But I don't want to be here for either."

Buffy shook her head, hearing the girl. "I vote for fight," she said, crossing her arms.

End Notes: Funny note here, my glasses broke before I was even half way finished with this, so I had to cut this chapter off a bit short. (I'm having a rather hard time reading the screen right now.) I swear the next one will explain the rooming, Giles's past, and give a better reaction scene between Spike, Angel, and Buffy.

Review and tell me what you think.