A/N; Thanks to all those who left a review on the last chapter. I wish ffn gave you the ability to reply to them individually.

This chapter was meant to go further but rl has got in the way of my writing (I am playing catch up as I was ill for so long) and by the time I go to bed I am exhausted.

Anyway, I thought I would post this now to prove both myself and the story aren't dead.

Please leave a comment so I know you are all still reading. Thank you!

The Fairy Pathway

The students retreated; Lovell, Roz, Uma and Fiona lingering the longest and looking back over their shoulders at Buffy with worried expressions. Rory watched them leave placidly and from the way he leaned back against a fir tree and flicked imaginary lint from the arm of his jacket, appearing in no rush to set off. Once the others had gone, he looked over at Buffy with an unfathomable expression.

Buffy squirmed uncomfortably. The Fae hated intrusions and she'd read stories of them taking revenge for a perceived slight by punishing the intruder with bad luck, illness or even death. Her slayer senses flared. The Pouka was neither a Disney fairy nor a wizarding one, he was one of the ancient Fae – the Other Crowd, the Shining Ones, the Gentry, the Good folk, the fallen Angels – their lifestyle and morality far removed to a human's.

Would Rory take revenge on the kids who'd misguidedly shown up to help her? Buffy didn't want to make an enemy of him, but she'd not stand to one side if he tried hurting her friends – her friends or Tom's. The thought of Rory hurting gentle Lovell had the Slayer stirring, her fists clenching at her sides.

Perhaps, it was her rebellious glare that made Rory look away – or perhaps not. Rory turned now to Tom, who somehow managed to look both completely innocent and dangerous at the same time.

When the Pouka spoke, it was in parseltongue. "I agreed to take you with me, little snakelet," he hissed. "But you won't interfere tonight, not unless you are given leave to. Understand? A hindrance is not what she needs, and I'll not risk my skin to come rescuing you."

Tom nodded, not letting the Pouka see his anger at being called a hindrance. He replied calmly in parseltongue, "Don't worry about me –"

"I'm not."

Tom ignored the interruption and continued. "...I'm not a liability." He was absolutely certain about that. His teachers were already talking about how his academic brilliance rivalled that of Dumbledore's. He knew they were all wrong. 'Rival' that bungling idiot?! What an insult! Tom already knew that he was better than him!

Privately he thought Dumbledore pathetic. Fancy being too scared to use the full extent of his magic and utilise the darker arts in his fight against Grindelwald. He wouldn't hesitate! The only thing holding him back now was the Ministry's watchful eye and their trace. Once the trace had gone, he'd not only learn the darkest spells, but cast all the Unforgivables without the slightest hesitation or remorse. He'd do everything he wanted and never again would he be forced, belittled or bullied by others. He was Lord Voldemort and soon everyone would quake at his name.

Then something occurred to him and his eyes narrowed. "Can I use my magic in Fairyland?" He knew the lands of the Fae were unplottable – even to wizards – but would his magic work there? He thought so, but it was best to be certain. "Can the Ministry monitor the magic I might use in your lands?"

Instantly Rory's face turned sour, and he spat out onto the light snow that was fast covering the ground. "Ministry? Ppht! A pox on your nosy Ministers and all that they stand for. We know no wizarding laws in our lands, and that's the way we'll keep it."

Tom dipped his head – and smiled. That sounded just fine to him. If the Ministry were in the dark, he'd show this overgrown fairy just how much power he really had.

Annoyed, Buffy stepped between them to gain attention. "Hablo Espanol, mine furrier?" she grumbled, pouting at first Tom and then the Pouka.

Now she had their full attention, she lifted an eyebrow and regarded them haughtily. "You speaketh the snakey? Guess what? I'm standing right here, don't have a clue what you're saying and you're hissing away like a pair of angry geese."

Rory's jaw dropped, and when he spoke it was with an accent so thick she could make out what he was saying. "Och, Buffy, yer' tearing me heart right out from me chest. A goose you're a callin' me today? Aye, a silly goose I must be, if the prettiest lass who's walked the lands fer a long time calls me a goose..." He clutched at the centre of his chest. "Me poor, poor heart –."

Buffy snorted. "You know, that's your ego you're clutching, not your heart."

Astounded, he went on. "Ego? Ego? Tis, me poor heart yer've broken, not me ego although that has taken a bashin' since the day I met yer. A wicked 'n' callous thing you are, to belittle a innocent man..." He caught Buffy's eye and corrected himself. "...a Phouka, who worships the verry ground you walk upon. If only you'd let me, I'd woo yer naked on a bed of roses –."

"Sounds thorny and kinda ouchy," quipped Buffy.

Rory's mouth twitched. "In a bower of thornless roses, we can sample the sweet joy of lovemaking..."

"I'm seeing blood and hair loss in your very near future, Rory."

"You wound me." The Pouka let out a long and dramatic sigh as if heartbroken at the rejection. But there was a sparkle to his eye and he seemed more amused than anything.

"I'll have yer know," he continued "That when I spoke snake, I was just handin' out a piece of advice to yerr..." He gave Tom a fast look. "...sidekick, here."

Tom huffed.

"Tom's a good friend of mine," Buffy said quickly, knowing Tom would not be happy being called a sidekick. "Not a sidekick."

Tom gritted his teeth and smiled – disliking not only the Pouka's absurd flirting, but how she'd titled him 'friend'. The bond they had went beyond friendship, couldn't she see that? Tom might not have a romantic soul like Lancelot Lockhart did – the boy was always quoting romantic and dramatic poetry to impress the girls – yet he knew this went beyond any Muggle attraction.

Malfoy was right, they had a magical affinity. It was his magic that found hers attractive, not just his hormones. That was why he felt stronger and more settled in her company. Didn't Buffy feel the same? It worried him that she didn't.

He reminded himself that she had turned down the Pouka and continued to sit by his side at mealtimes. She'd shown not the slightest sign of wanting to go back to her old place after Dumbledore had taken off their chains. No doubt, he'd helped by shuffling everyone around to accommodate her. Uma and Fiona took the Parkinson's old spots, and a quiet word in the right Ravenclaw ear and Lovell was moved along the table so that he was once more sat behind her. The only one who adamantly refused to change was Travers – something Malfoy, Avery and Lestrange were pleased about. For Buffy though, Tom would have ignored them all and accepted the surly Mudblood into his circle.

Rory circled Buffy and Tom. "Aye, well, yer friend here," he sneered, sensing Tom's dislike. "Yer friend asked if he'd be able to use his magic in our lands without yer Ministry finding out. I did nae say anything but answer him."

"And?" Buffy asked eagerly, rotating on her heel to keep the Pouka always in view. Not that she didn't trust him, but, well... she only trusted him so much. "What about it?" Remembering Uma's advice to be careful with her wording as the Fae were tricksy and would use any excuse to get out of giving a straight answer, she repeated, "Can we use our magic in Fairyland? And has the Ministry a way of knowing if we do?"

Rory rolled his eyes. "That's two entirely different questions, yer noo. The Ministry will nae ken. As fer using yer magic... Well, mebee yer can and mebee yer can't," Rory answered, coming to stop by her side.

"Can you vague that up more for me?" Buffy asked, her face rigid and determined. "All this brogue -ing. Speak a de English.?

Rory scratched at the back of his head as he considered her words. "An' you're accusing me of 'brogue-ing' it up? Tis a good thing I can speak any language under the sun." His expression turned sly and his eyes narrowed. "Makes me wonder... where you learned such a strange language? Aye," he added softly, "I'd really like to know the answer to that one."

"America," Buffy replied flatly. "And I asked first, and I want the truth... Um, please. Do I get..." She let out a frustrated huff and started again – she had to use the correct words or the fairy would find a way to get out of telling her.

"Am I able to use my witch magic in Fairyland?" She had her Slayer magic as well, but neither Rory nor Tom knew about it. "And don't go brogue-ing it up again or turning into a horse to avoid the question," she added, since Rory had begun to circle again.

The Pouka stopped and let out a horse-like snort. "Maybe you can and maybe you can't."

Buffy's death glare would have made demons shake in their shoes (if they wore any).

Being Fae, Rory just shrugged. "Just like you, my warrior queen, some truths are not that easy to give. You might or might not be able to use your magic in the Hidden Lands. It all depends on the kind of magic you want to use."

Buffy stayed silent, the snow falling gently around her face, unsure if the Pouka had guessed she was more than just a witch.

"Wand magic," Tom blurted out. "You mean it depends if we use wand magic or not?"

Buffy almost sagged with relief. Of course, why hadn't she thought of that! Witches and wizards used wand magic, it was how they channelled their magic.

Rory began circling again – this time, anti-clockwise. "My people have no need to use sticks to conduct their spells and those who need them aren't welcome in our lands."

Under his breath, Buffy heard Tom groan, "That's just bloody great." Louder, he said to Rory, "So wandless magic only?"

Rory grinned happily. "Aye. If you know what's wise. Changed your mind about going along, have you? Decided to let your 'friend' go alone?"

"No!" Anger roiled inside him, and an urge to strike the smirk clean off the Pouka's face. A warm hand slipped into his, and Buffy leaned in, her body warm against his own.

"Tom, you don't have to. Honestly, I'm not gonna expect you to risk everything for me. I'll be okay. Really, I will." She didn't voice it, but it would be easier without him. Not only would she have free rein to use her slayer powers, but – without his magic – Tom was a liability.

Tom raised his hand to cup her cheek. In the moonlight and softly falling snow, his face was pale, his eyes dark and fathomless, yet there was a softness and a warmth there that gave her butterflies. When he traced the edge of her mouth with the ball of his thumb, a shiver of desire went right through her.

"You really think I'd let you go alone?" He stroked her face, his eyes on hers. "As if I would. Don't worry, I have enough magic for both of us. Long before I knew about magic, I was using my own form of wandless magic."

Buffy opened her mouth to know more and then stopped when she saw the hardness appear around his eyes. She remembered the cold, loveless orphanage, the harsh Mrs Cole and the desperate, unwanted children under her care. Whatever had happened to Tom back then, it had left deep scars on his soul.

His hand dropped from her face, and he smiled darkly. "I became rather good at using it, if I do say it myself."

"What kind of things –" began Buffy but was interrupted by a horse's snort just behind them.

The Pouka had shapeshifted. In his place, a tall horse as black as midnight stood with a long, wavy mane and tail that swept the ground. He swished his tail, his golden eyes glowing with mischief and merriment as he raised his top lip to show off a set of long teeth. Then, with a great deal of head tossing, he knelt and waited for them to mount. Tom got on first, throwing his leg over the creature's back and drawing Buffy up to sit behind him.

And then the horse rose to his feet and, almost before Tom had secured his grip on his mane, set off at a break-neck gallop. His hooves left not a single print in the snow, fading into the darkness with his long mane flying into Tom's face, whilst Buffy held on and buried her cheek against Tom's back. The horse galloped. Not even slowing his pace as he entered the treeline, he dodged trees, and leapt over bramble and thorn patches before plunging from Forbidden Forest and heading for the lake.

Buffy peered around Tom's side, saw the water ahead and murmured, "Oh, no."

Was the Pouka playing a nasty trick on them? If so, she decided that she really would go Slayer on him. However, the Pouka swerved at the water's edge and took off along the rocky shoreline, his ears pricked and his eyes on a place far from Hogwarts.