It's been a long time coming… but I'm back! It's summer and since I successfully finished my first year at college I decided I needed to finish this.

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Chapter 4: Patience Is a Virtue

"What I'm doing here is none of your business," Draco snarled. He sent a glare at Remus and attempted to storm past Buffy and out the door.

Attempted was the key word. Buffy caught his arm and held it steadfast. She slowly turned to him, her nose wrinkling, and calmly said "You're bleeding."

Twin gasps and incredulous stares came from the two men surrounding her. Remus shocked by her audacity; Draco by her knowledge of a wound he knew he'd dressed properly and hidden well. Buffy tilted her head slightly, giving the blonde a fierce once over looking for the signs of blood she knew she smelled. When she caught his eyes she paused far longer than she normally would have: there was just something about him.

"You seem… familiar," she settled on at last and finally released the arm Draco had long ago given up trying to free.

Draco was at a loss to how this strange American could possibly think they knew each other at all. Remus however had no such confusion.

"Buffy, the man from the café, this is his son," Remus explained hesitantly. He had no idea who to watch out for. Did Draco share in his father's goal? Did Buffy still hold enough fear to take it out on the young Slytherin?

"So you've met my father?" Draco had no idea what the Death-Eater could possibly want in this slip of a girl and at the moment he didn't really care. He needed to rest. He needed to find some place safe. Mostly he just needed to get away from anything that involved Potter and that included the werewolf standing not five feet from him.

"Briefly, I didn't much care for him," was Buffy's only reply.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? Dear old dad isn't all that lovable. Do me a favor will you? If you see him again, tell him if he wants me dead, he should send a better wizard next time."

Remus, while surprised, took in everything Malfoy said in hopes of relating it to Dumbledore later. This could just be the break they had been waiting for. Buffy, on the other hand, seemed unruffled with the assassination attempt admission.

"Remus, tell my father I won't be home tonight. I'll be staying upstairs with… what was your name again?" Head turning from one man to another, Buffy waited for an answer. She was not in a patient mood right now. She wasn't looking forward to staying the night in Diagon Alley but she was sure not even her father would let her bring the blonde creep's son back to the Order house.

"Draco, I'm Draco."

"I'm Buffy. We need to get you in a bed and checked out. How can you still be bleeding? Didn't you take a potion? A spell? Anything?"

"I was in a hurry at the time. I was more involved with just getting away."

"Never mind, I'll treat you myself. Lord knows I have enough practice healing wounds by now."

Remus had stood by silently during the conversation, hoping that he was just imagining what he was hearing.

The lycan tried to be the voice of reason, "Buffy, I don't think…"

"I don't care Remus!" she snapped and then seemed to calm herself in seconds. "I'm sorry. Please just tell my father I won't be home tonight and not to worry. Can you do that for me please?"

"Of course, but Buffy…"

"Goodbye Remus. Come by tomorrow and we'll finish shopping all right?" Not waiting for an answer, Buffy pulled Draco along with her over to Tom to ask about a room. They soon disappeared out of sight and Remus was left standing with only a dumbstruck look on his face.

He'd known the girl a day and already he'd lost Dumbledore's daughter! The werewolf hoped for his own sake that she was prone to going off on her own and that the headmaster was well aware of this fact. Maybe then he wouldn't be in so much trouble. Why did he suddenly feel like a teenager again, walking with his head down up the spiraling staircase to talk over yet another transgression of the Marauders? And to think that he had once thought James Potter was a handful! No wonder Dumbledore seemed to have the patience of a saint, or at least Remus hoped he did.