Returns and Revelations

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Harry found Hermione in the great hall, with a chess set and her books.

He sat across from her. “Who were you playing? Ron’s not here.”

Her head snapped up from her book. “Oh! Harry!” She walked around and hugged him. “Thank goodness, you’re alright! You are alright, aren’t you? You didn’t get hurt, did you? How’s Sirius? Is he alright? Are Evelyn and Torianna alright? How’s Professor Lupin? How’s-”

He clamped a hand over her mouth. “Everyone’s fine, Hermione. Who were you playing in chess?”

She shoved his hand away and sighed. “Malfoy.”

Harry looked completely confused. “Malfoy?”

“Malfoy. Oh! Harry! I’ve got something really interesting here!”

“What?” he asked as she returned to her seat across from him. She handed him her book.

“You remember my question about the Scourge of Europe?”

“Yes.”

“Well… it turns out that he’s actually a vampire named Angelus. And Angelus received a soul in 1898. There was no record of him after that, until he began actually helping people in California not too long ago. He changed his name to Angel.”

Harry looked down at the book, and an old picture of a man with long hair stared up at him. “That’s… that’s Professor O’Brien!”

“Yes it is,” Hermione nodded. “He was the Scourge of Europe. A vampire! I approximate him to be about twenty-seven in the picture. Records say that he was turned into a vampire in 1753, so… I estimated what his first year of Hogwarts would have been, and I looked up his name in the library student section, and I came up with one Liam O’Brien. A Ravenclaw.” She shoved a picture of a young boy over to Harry.

“That’s him?”

Hermione nodded. “In the year 1737.”

“Wow… this proves it. You’re good.”

“Another really scary thing I found was something called the Hogwarts Massacre,” Hermione went on.

There was a pause.

“I hate to ask… but… Azkaban…”

“Was scary,” Harry nodded. “Really scary. I think it did Sirius some good to see us. We had a bad run-in with a dementor, but we’re all right… What‘s wrong with Draco?”

Hermione shrugged. “My uncle and Professor Dumbledore ask for him, but I haven’t seen him since.”

Harry shrugged. “Hm.”


“So… you’re a vampire slayer?”

Draco nodded.

They were sitting on the grass in front of the castle.

“So… why does that mean that you can’t go home?”

Draco sighed. “Vampire slayers fight for good. They fight darkness. My family bloody-well is darkness.”

Evelyn sighed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“If you weren’t a slayer, or whatever, what side would you be on in this whole good versus evil thing?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said. “I’m no Death Eater, that’s for certain.”

“So… wouldn’t that make you… one of us?” Evelyn asked.

“I don’t wanna be on either side!” Draco cried. “After school, I want to move far away from all of this.”

“Well, you probably won’t get a choice,” Evelyn pointed out. “Everyone’s gonna have to choose a side here. What side would you be on?”

“Whatever side you’re on,” Draco replied.

“Cut the mush, Malfoy,” Evelyn snickered.

“I’m serious,” Draco replied. “Whatever side you’re on is fine by me.”

“So… if I decided to go with Voldemort, you’d follow me?”

Draco didn’t reply.

“One of us,” Evelyn chanted. “I knew it. You’re so one of us.”

Draco groaned. “I’m gonna get the worst thrashing of my life because of this mess.”

She stared at him in silence for a moment before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him.

In mid snog, they heard something hit ground in front of them, and a groan.

“Bloody hell.”

Draco sighed when the kiss ended. “You and Potter really know how to screw up a moment, Weasley.”

Ron smirked and shrugged. “I try.”

“Ron, it’s dark and you’re wearing sunglasses,” Evelyn pointed out. “Who do you think you are? Elwood Blues?” Both boys blinked at her and she rolled her eyes. “Wizards need cinema.”

“Why are you wearing shades, Weasley?” Draco asked. “You’re first efforts in covering up that gruesome face?”

Ron sighed and took off the shades.

Neither Evelyn nor Draco said anything.

“Well?” Ron asked.

“Well, what?” Evelyn asked. “You’ve got eyes, Ron. You act like they got gouged out or something.”

Ron blinked. “You mean, they’re-”

“Still very blue, and very pretty,” Evelyn cut him off. “Now go inside so we can be cute and gross.”

Ron smirked. He still looked a little confused, but he shook his head and walked past them.

As he walked past, Draco noticed something interesting.

Weasley’d forgotten a belt, and his trousers were obviously too big for him. Maybe a pair from one of his older brothers.

Malfoy took the opportunity presented before him. How could he not? He grabbed one of Ron’s pant legs and yanked.

The pants slid down, and Ron stood frozen, in one of his many pairs of orange Chuddly Cannon boxers, face as red as his hair. He looked down at Malfoy, rage building up. “You fuck.” He lunged for Draco with a growl, and they began to wrestle on the grounds. All Evelyn could do was point and laugh hysterically. She had to admit, Ron fighting Draco with his pants down was pretty funny. But Ron was winning.

And then they heard someone clear their throat.

They both hopped to their feet, Ron with his pants at his ankles, with their arms draped around each other’s shoulders.

“He’s my mate.”

“Thass right. We weren’t fighting. We were being friends!”

“We’re best friends.”

“That’s right.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s my buddy.”

Professor Giles looked thoroughly unconvinced. “Weasley, pull your trousers up.”

Ron turned red again, and did as he was told.

“The only reason the two of you are not getting detention is because I really have no desire to find out what you were doing,” Giles said sternly. “Now get to your rooms. Draco, I want to speak with you first thing in the morning.” he didn’t wait for a response. he only took off and went inside the castle.

The boys hurriedly moved their arms away, staring at each other.

“That was close call,” Evelyn smirked. “Ron… orange boxers?”

“Chuddly Cannons,” he replied, blushing yet again. “Favorite Quidditch team.”

“S’okay, Mate,” Draco said, pulling the elastic of his own boxers out. “Bright green.”

Ron blinked. “Mate?”

They stood in more silence.

“Well… guess we should go in,” Draco said. “Before Giles comes out and actually does give us detention.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah.”

They walked into the castle and parted ways, Evelyn and Ron to the Gryffindor portrait hole, and Draco to Slytherin’s.

Evelyn grinned. There was hope.


Hermione had moved her studying into the common room from the great hall, as it was getting near curfew. She didn’t notice when Ron entered.

He walked behind her and put a hand over her eyes.

“RONALD WEASLEY!” she screamed, jumping nearly five feet in the air.

He laughed and moved his hand away.

She got up, looking startled, and slightly angry. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Since when are you easily frightened?” he asked, his smile fading a little. “Mione? You alright?”

She shook out her head. “Just… reading something a bit disturbing, is all.” She stopped speaking and stared at him for a moment, before throwing her arms around him, and reaching up to kiss him.

“BOO!” came a cry from Dean. “Get a room!”

A canary cream was launched into the air and just missed them.

“Oy!” Ron cried, pulling away from Hermione. “You said no more canary creams!”

“We said we wouldn’t get you to eat anymore canary creams!” George cried.

“We never said we wouldn’t throw them at you!” Fred added.

“So, what happened?” Hermione asked, urgently. “Are you… I mean, did they-”

He smiled. “I’m going to be fine,” he told her. “My eyes did something funny when it first happened, but I’m fine now.”

“So, you’re a half-demon now?” Hermione asked.

Ron nodded.

She pulled him into another kiss, making the rest of the common room groan more.

She ended the kiss and just hugged him, as Harry walked in.

“Oh, no,” he said. “They said no, didn’t they?”

Ron let go of Hermione and walked up to Harry. “Well…”

“God, Ron,” Harry said quietly. “I’m so bloody sorry.”

“Harry-”

“If I weren’t some bloody warrior, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Harry-”

“I don’t even do anything as warrior! I sit like a lump! You wind up multi-tasking!”

“Harry-”

“And Sirius is in Azkaban, and we can’t find Peter Petigrew, and-”

“HARRY!”

He blinked at his best friend, who was smiling.

“They said yes, Harry. I’m alright.”

Harry blinked again. “Really?”

“Really,” Ron nodded.

Harry hugged his best friend.

Things were bad. But this was good.


Sarah Lupin felt as if it had only been yesterday that’d she’d roamed the halls of Hogwarts. In her mind, it had only been a day.

In the real world, it had been somewhere around fourteen years.

She’d looked in the mirror earlier, and had let out a string of curses that would have put even Sirius Black to shame. To say the least, Madame Pomfrey had not been amused by her colorful vocabulary. But she couldn’t help it. She didn’t remember looking so old and worn.

But she remembered everything else.

She remembered James and Lily’s and Emily’s deaths. She remembered her husband, Remus. Her daughter, Torianna. Her surrogate niece and nephew, Harry and Evelyn. Sirius.

Most of all, she remember that she couldn’t wait to get her hands on Peter Petigrew.

He was the reason she’d been in a coma so long.

She hadn’t meant to become caught up in her thoughts, but it happened. She bumped into someone, and muttered an apology.

And the someone she’d bumped into grabbed her arm before she could continue walking. She snapped toward the person, and nearly stopped breathing.

He stood silent. Light brown hair speckled with gray. Amber eyes looking at her in wonder and pain.

She didn’t waste any time with curses or any sort of words. She threw her arms around Remus and kissed him like she hadn’t kissed him in fourteen years.

Because she hadn’t.


“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

He nodded. “I just have a favor to ask of you.”

Faith and Buffy glanced at each other, and then back at Draco Malfoy. Giles had told them all about Draco’s new status as vampire slayer, and his reluctance, which may have rivaled Buffy’s when it came to accepting fate.

“Shoot, kid,” Faith nodded.

“I want you two to train me to be a vampire slayer,” he told them.

Buffy shook her head. “That’s what watchers are for.”

“I don’t want a bloody watcher,” Draco replied. “I don’t want some stuffy bastard telling me how to do things. I want people who know what they’re talking about because they’ve been through it.”

Faith sighed, and looked to Buffy. “He’s right, y’know. I woulda killed to be trained by an actual slayer.”

Buffy sighed. “Yeah. Okay. We start tomorrow right after dinner. You’re late, and… and…”

“Ten extra push-ups,” Faith finished. “And don’t wear any hair products or perfume. Demons smell that shit from a mile away.”

Buffy blinked. “They do?”

“Shyeah,” Faith replied. “Why do you think Angel always has issues? He won’t quit it with the products.”

Buffy snickered. “Remind me to tease him.”

Draco beamed as he walked away from his teachers.


“No. Absolutely not. He needs a watcher.”

They hadn’t even had breakfast yet when Dumbledore had called the two slayer, Angel, and the two watchers into his office for a meeting.

Faith turned to Giles and Wesley. “Permission to kick his ass.”

“Denied,” Wesley replied. “Quinton, it may be beneficial. No slayer has ever lasted long enough to help train others.”

“They’re both renegade slayers!” Travers replied. “One’s a murderer, the other is…”

“The best slayer you’ve ever had?” Giles suggested. “Because she is. No slayer has lived as long as Buffy.”

Buffy blinked. “But… I’ve died twice.”

“That’s not the point,” Giles snapped. “The point is that she and Faith are very capable of training Malfoy.”

“To be what, Giles? I killer?! A Death Eater?! He probably already is one!”

Buffy was holding Faith back as best she could. Wesley and Angel stepped in to help.

Dumbledore got to his feet. “Mr. Travers, I have already asked you to be professional and not speak ill of my professors. Unfortunately, I must ask you to leave.”

“What?” Travers cried. “What about the boy?!”

“I will see to it that Draco is trained,” Dumbledore informed him. “He is no longer your concern.”

“He’s a slayer! As long as that is true, he will be my concern!”

Dumbledore sighed. “Professor O’Brien, please show Mr. Travers to the door.”

“My pleasure,” Angel replied. He grabbed Travers by the shirt collar, and dragged him out of the office.

Dumbledore sighed. “As long as I am headmaster of this school, no outsider will insult anyone on my teaching staff. Now… Draco’s training… While I am all for you ladies training him, I would very much like for Rupert to oversee. Make sure things go smoothly.”

“That’s the thing,” Buffy replied. “There isn’t such a thing as smooth slayer training. And It’ll probably be harder on Malfoy than anyone. And not just because he’s a boy. I don’t know how good an idea it is for him to keep this a secret from his parents. He’s already not telling them about his girlfriend.”

“How do you know that?” Wesley asked.

“Please,” Buffy scoffed. “How long did it take for me tell my mother I was making out with a vampire?”

“Point,” Wesley nodded.

“I’ve already called Lucius,” Dumbledore informed them.

“What?” Giles snapped. “Why?”

“No sense in delaying the inevitable,” Dumbledore replied. “He’s on his way here with his wife and daughter.”

“Malfoy’s got a sister?” Faith asked.

Dumbledore sighed. “She’s a seventh-year at Durmstrang.”

“Whoa,” Buffy muttered. “That’s the mix-up! She was supposed to be the slayer, and the powers screwed up the siblings!”

“Or perhaps they didn’t ‘screw up,’” Dumbledore suggested. “I’m certain that you’ve all noticed that Draco Malfoy hasn’t been living up to the Death Eater standards his family expects. Perhaps he truly is meant to be a slayer.”


“Ron?”

He looked up from his large plate of food. He was wearing sunglasses.

Harry blinked. “Are you alright?”

Ron shrugged. “Fine.”

“Gimme the shades,” Harry told him.

“No.”

“Give ‘em, Ron.”

“I said no,” Ron snapped. “Just leave it be, Harry.”

Harry reached over and snatched the shades.

His eyes were completely white. The pools of blue that usually stared at Harry were gone.

“Ron…”

Ron glared. “Happy? Now give ’em back, you great prat.”

Harry, completely shocked, gave them back. “What…?”

“It happens when I first wake up in the morning,” Ron told him, putting the shades back on. “It’s a demon thing.”

“Half-demon.”

“Right.” Ron sighed, and played with his food. “Did you want something?”

“I want to talk to you about your visions.”

Ron shrugged. “Okay. What?”

“I want you to actually start telling me about your visions.”

“I do tell you.”

“I mean, when they happen,” Harry replied. “They’re not just meant for you, y’know. I’m supposed to do things, too. So, from now on, we do the vision quest together.”

Ron smirked. “Yeah. Alright. I think I can deal with that.”

“Hi,” Hermione chimed in, sitting next to Ron. She raised an eyebrow. “You look ridiculous.”

“Well, it’s better than looking frightening, I suppose,” Ron muttered.

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