It's been a LONG few weeks and yesterday felt like it lasted a month! Haha. I worked twelve hours, had to unload a truck that was two days late (with not enough help), and had to deal with asshole customers who THINK they always come first. Um. NOT!

Anyway, here's an update for you!

Chapter Thirty-two
Frick and Frack

Their shopping completed—sans a wand for Buffy, of course—the group returned to Number Thirteen D'Arblay Street. Vin and Sophie didn't say much, instead they disappeared upstairs and the two teenagers collapsed on the sofa in the lounge. They were exhausted—both physically and mentally.

At the moment though, Buffy couldn't care less about her lack of wand—well, she could, but she was enthralled with the owl that she'd chosen and couldn't concentrate on anything but the beauty before her. It was a twin and its pair had gone to Tom. He didn't seem overly thrilled though.

Sitting beside Buffy, Tom stared at the two feathered creatures. They were inside identical carrying cages on the table in front of them.

"What will we name them?" Buffy asked excitedly.

Tom frowned. "I don't care," he said gruffly.

Buffy scoffed. "Don't be a butt! They need names."

"You name them then," he said, giving the birds a dismissive wave. "What am I going to do with an owl anyway?"

What would he do with one? The only person he would want to owl would be Buffy and she'd be at Hogwarts with him! What was the point of owning an owl if you had no one with which to communicate? It was ludicrous!

"Ass much?!" Buffy said, throwing him a glare, then offering each bird a tasty morsel of meat. The proprietor of Eeylops said they liked treats, so Vin and Sophie had practically bought out the shop.

"You are both so beautiful," she cooed.

At about twelve inches, they weren't fully grown yet, but they were adorable and, as far as she could tell, absolutely identical—both a buff brown with darker tawny brown feathers on their backs, their faces slightly paler with light brown eyebrows, and prominent ear tufts on the sides of their heads.

"How about...Frick and Frack?" she suggested.

Tom frowned. "What and Who?"

"It was a ice skating duo in the nineteen...um...well now, actually," Buffy said sheepishly. "They were... are very silly. I used to skate, so..." She shrugged.

"Buffy, what am I going to do with an owl?" Tom repeated. "I have no use for one at all."

"Well, we couldn't very well have bought just one of them...and separate twins, could we?" she asked. She looked back at the owls and said, "No, we couldn't."

"But you could have chosen a different owl," he said, eyeing the birds. "Or a cat. At least a cat could have been kept in the dormitory. An owl has to stay in the Owlery."

"The Owlery? What's that?" Buffy asked.

"It's an open air room at the top of the West Tower at Hogwarts...where the owls live," he explained. "They can't stay in the common rooms and dormitories. The mess would be...atrocious."

Remembering the mess a bird had dropped in her hair once—and then imagining everyone's owls flying around the common rooms—Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Eww. I see your point," she said—then shrugged again. "Well, I had to have these. I mean...they're buffy fish owls, so..." She grinned.

Tom sighed.

"How about Bubo for one of them?" Buffy suggested. "It's the name of a mechanical owl in an old movie I like."

Tom laughed. "You mean the owl in Greek Mythology? Athena's owl?"

Buffy nodded. "Yes. That one."

"Hmm. It's also the name of a symptom of the bubonic plague," he said.

"Um. What now?"

"Buboes. They are painful swellings in the armpits, groin, neck, and thighs. Plague buboes turn black as they rot away the surrounding tissue. They can also rupture, discharging large amounts of pus and—"

"Ew! Gross much?!" Buffy interrupted with a frown. "Must you get so...detaily?"

Tom smirked.

"You're just...a wealth of knowledge," she said.

"I read a lot," he said.

Buffy snorted. "So you've said. "Okay then. So not Bubo and Nick Plague." She laughed a little at her joke. "What about...Batman and Robin?"

Tom stared at her blankly—and the owls both let a loud squawk, which Buffy ignored for the moment.

"Comic book team? Not sure exactly when they came out, but...probably about this time. I think. Maybe? I don't know. Superhero team. Batman and Robin," she repeated—which caused the owls to flap their wings and snap their bills.

Tom shook his head. He'd never seen a comic book before. "I don't think they like it. They're not bats or robins."

Buffy looked at them and frowned. "Sheesh. Don't let it ruffle your feathers now!" she scolded—then cocked her head. "I suppose you wouldn't care for Heckle and Jeckle either then, huh?"

Both owls tilted their heads at exactly the same angle.

Buffy sighed. "You're not magpies, so I suppose not," she said. "Come on now, I need some help here."

Tom just watched Buffy talking to the birds.

"What do you think of...Simon and Garfunkel?" she asked the owls.

More bill snapping.

"Who or what are Simon and Garfunkel?" Tom asked.

"An American folk rock duo. Doesn't come out until the sixties," explained Buffy. "Hey, they had another name first...before they eventually used their own names. It was Tom and Jerry...like the cartoon." She smirked at him.

Tom eyed her. "Are you mocking me?"

Buffy laughed. "No. That's what Simon and Garfunkel called themselves in school. It's also a cartoon series that started somewhere around...well, I'm not sure. It's old. It's features comical fights between lifelong enemies, a cat and a mouse."

Both owls hissed.

Tom scoffed. "Once again animals that aren't owls," he said. "Besides, I couldn't have an owl that was named Tom." He frowned. "I don't even like having such a common name. It's not suitable!"

Buffy sighed, wondering if he was referring to the birds or himself. "You think of something then!" she snapped.

Tom shrugged. "I don't care, Buffy."

"You do though," she argued. "You've shot down everything I've suggested."

"As have they," he countered with a gesture at their new pets.

Buffy looked at them and frowned. "How about...CornOWLius Braveheart and...OWLzy Owlsbourne?" she said.

Tom laughed. "You're giving them surnames too?" he asked, not having a clue where her ideas came from.

Grinning at her friend, Buffy shrugged. "Why not? We have last names, so should they."

"Maybe stick to something simple," Tom suggested. "Though, I'm amused by you putting 'owl' in the name."

Buffy looked back at the owls. Both were watching her intently, as if they understood what was going on. "Hmm. How about...Owlbert and Owlister?

"Or Owlden and Owlfred," he suggested, copying her form.

Buffy nodded. "Both good. Or...Owliver and Owlvin."

Tom smirked, then changed it up. "Or Powell and Rowlph McOwl," he said.

"Ooo, I like 'McOwl.' It's very...owl-esque!" said Buffy with a grin and a nod.

Tom shook his head, but looked at the owls to see their reaction. Funnily enough, the two birds seemed completely engaged by the conversation. "I think I prefer...Owlbert and Owlfred McOwl."

With a grin, Buffy nodded. "Ditto. But...which is which?"

Tom looked at the creatures and frowned. "Does it matter?"

Buffy scoffed—and both the owls made a hissing noise. "Of course it matters!"

Looking from the birds to his friend, Tom said, "It really doesn't to me, Buffy."

The owls hissed again—and Buffy rolled her eyes. "See. It matters and we must decide."

Identical "Eeeps" sounded, followed by more beak-clicking.

Tom huffed and looked at the owls again. "I don't think even I can tell them apart."

Buffy frowned. "Maybe they could wear something."

Tom barked out a laugh. "Like what, a scarf?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly," she said. "I mean like...well, the bands on their legs. That guy at Eeylops put them on before we took them home. Maybe we could move one of them to the other leg and, voila, we can tell them apart!"

Tom shook his head. "Buffy, the rings are spelled on. We won't be able to just move them," he explained.

"Well, maybe Vin or Sophie can," she said. "I mean... their magic defies the confines of ours, right?"

Tom thought for a moment, then nodded. "Perhaps."

Buffy grinned. "Great! So...whose is whose?" she asked him.

Tom groaned. "Perfect. More choices."

After some discussion about where the owls should be kept—they'd been told their new pets would need to get out at night to hunt—Buffy and Tom went downstairs to Buffy's room to go through their shopping spoils. Tom was still reeling from what had been purchased for him. He'd never had so much in his life.

Upon entering her room, they each set an owl cage on the table that ran the length of the wall—side by side, of course—opening each door to allow the owls to get out if they wished. For the time being Owlbert and Owlfred remained inside, watching their owners with intently.

On her bed, the pile of parcels looked tiny. Buffy stared at it wondering how they'd get everything back to its proper size without the use of a wand. She didn't have one yet and Tom wasn't allowed to use his. Neither would she, if she had one.

She was just about to run upstairs to see if either Vin or Sophie could help with the problem when the sisters appeared in her doorway.

"We didn't forget about your things," Sophie said.

"We just wanted to put ours away first," said Vin.

Sophie nodded. "And use the toilet."

"But we've come to assist," Vin continued, holding one hand out to Sophie and raising the other in the direction of the Buffy's meager-looking pile.

Sophie grinned as she took her sister's hand and raised the other in the same way that Vin had. Both sisters closed their eyes and began speaking, almost inaudibly—and possibly not in English. And a moment later, Buffy's bed was completely covered—so covered, in fact, that a significant number of packages slid off the side and clattered to the floor.

"Um. Thanks," Buffy said as she went to start opening everything. "It's like...Christmas in here."

The sisters chuckled.

"We'll let you enjoy your unwrapping," Sophie said with a yawn.

"We'll get you a trunk to take everything off to Hogwarts, but for now...make sure you find a place to put everything," Vin instructed.

Buffy nodded. "I will. Thank you again," she called out—but the sisters had already gone.

After a short time going through everything and even trying on all her school clothing again—and modeling them for Tom—Buffy found places to put all her new things, then sat down cross-legged on her bed and looked at he boy who'd taken the chair in the corner. He'd pretended to be bored during the whole process, but Buffy knew he hadn't been at all. She'd seen his eyes spark with interest each time she came out of her bathroom dressed in another outfit. Technically, each outfit was the same, but she'd managed to make them look different by the way she did her hair or rolled up her sleeves or carried her robes or tossed her scarf or held a random book. She wished she had colorful accessories and make up to embellish on her creations, but alas, she did not.

"Well, that's my stuff all sorted," she said. Her cauldron was still out—as were her set of first year books.

He nodded. "Would you like to start?" he said with a gesture at the lopsided pile of books beside her on the bed.

Buffy looked down at them and grimaced. As much as she wanted to learn all this witchcraft and wizardry, she wasn't looking forward to the actual reading portion of the task. Really, she was much more of a doer than a reader. Where was Willow when she needed her?!

Picking up the one on top, she tossed it to Tom with a grin and said, "Here, you start reading it to me and I'll listen." With that she flopped back on her bed and prepared to listen.

Tom caught the book and frowned. For a moment he considered opening it and doing as she'd asked—there was something about her that made him want to obey—then he decided against it and flung it back at her. He was taking a chance that the book would strike her—and anger her—but of course, with the reflexes of a slayer, she snatched it mid-air, then turned and glared at him.

"What the heck, Tom?" she said, sitting up with the offending book in her hand.

He smirked. "Read it yourself!" he commanded.

Buffy huffed. "So much for helping me through them all," she grumbled, her eyes going to the four other daunting stacks of books—three stacks for each year she'd missed and one for the upcoming year. Then she looked down at the book in her hands—The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble—and flipped it open. Funnily enough, she opened up to the chapter on vampires.

Reading a few lines, she snorted. "These are not my vampires!" she snapped, giving the pages in front of her a menacing glare.

Tom watched her for a second, then got up and moved to sit beside her on the bed. He was only slightly more comfortable doing this. Buffy wasn't some innocent female who might find issue with his nearness and he was learning to treat her in a way more suitable to the young woman she was—Buffy Summers, the Slayer, could and would take care of herself—but that didn't mean he wished to act in an inappropriate manner.

Scratch that! He did wish to behave inappropriately, during every minute, of every hour, of every day that he spent with the girl—and even during the times when he was not with her! Every thought he had of Buffy was just wrong—never mind that she could physically take care of herself, to stop him or anyone else from doing anything untoward. No, she did not need help there.

But the same could not be said for her studies, he'd decided. With that, she needed assistance.

"I said I would help, not do it for you. How much would you learn by listening to me drone on?" he asked.

Buffy just stared at him.

"You will hear enough droning from our History of Magic professor. Professor Binns is...well, he's the most boring professor ever. He just...drones." He smiled and picked up Buffy's history of magic textbook. "This one...is a bit dull."

Buffy frowned. "Yay! Stuff to look forward to. Fun!"

Tom smiled. "If you would rather not start today, then we won't. But we should start soon."

Buffy sighed. "All right," she said. "Tomorrow though. I am way too exhausted for studying right now. And I think I could use some food."

Tom shook his head. "I think you're always hungry."

"Twenty-four seven," she replied with a nod.