by Lisette: Lisette_an@hotmail.com

Legalese: The television series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters and material belong to Joss Whedon and UPN.  All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.  I claim ownership solely of the story idea - no profit will be made by this.

Author's Note: First off, Happy Easter to those who celebrate it.  Unfortunately, I don't have the brightest of chapters to give you all!  So advance warning that not only is this a really short chapter, but it's a very sad chapter as well.  I'm sorry, but it had to be written.  Chin up and have faith that there's always a light at the end of the tunnel... or in the case of this fic, some ass to kick and some retribution to be gained.  Also, a huge thanks to Kiwi, Harry, SparkySparkles, Saturn Maiden, buffy addict, solarphoenix, Tara, Rob, Jo, X-Lander, Lady of Hogwarts, Lynn, and Hecatonchires!  It's wonderful to see some new reviewers making the trek over from A Twist of Fate and it's always exciting for me to see the 'old' reviewers keep coming back. ;p You guys totally make my day each and every day!  Thank you!

WhiteWolf 3: Too bad Giles doesn't see it that way...

adb: Hehe... it would seem that way, wouldn't it?  So in answer to your question... yeah, you could say that! ;p

Jera: Thanks for the nitpick!  While I did live in London for a month a few years back, it certainly wasn't enough time to completely pick up all of the nuances of British conversation - I'm just glad to hear that I'm not messing it up too badly!  Hope it continues to flow alright!

"Alav ha-sholem.  May this sleep be only a little dream between this world and something better.  Baruch ha-Shem."
-Dean Koontz-

    Sweeping into the room in a flare of black robes, Harry ignored Ron and Neville's startled and questioning gazes and instead pushed back the heavy curtains that surrounded his bed.  "Not now," he murmured in response to their unasked questions as he turned and allowed himself to fall back onto the soft mattress in an explosion of dark material.  His initial thought upon returning to the room was to either brood over his fight with Sirius or else amaze himself with the hectic fight with the Death Eaters in the Forbidden Forest - or maybe even regale Ron and Neville with his wizard's dual against Draco.  However, it seemed that this night he would get to do neither as the instant his head touched the pillow, the darkness that had been clutching at the edges of his vision finally broke free and stole over him, casting him into a dark sleep.

    "Is Harry okay?" Neville asked timidly from his place on his own bed across the large room as Ron cautiously moved to his friend's side.

    "Harry's asleep," Ron returned, unable to truly believe it himself.  Confused, he slowly bent over and waved his hand over Harry's face, noting that he didn't even seem to twitch at the movement.  Apparently, whatever had happened that night had been something that had exhausted Harry to the point of this deep sleep.  Shrugging his shoulders, he gently plucked Harry's glasses from his nose and then moved down to work at the laces of his shoes.  At least Madam Pomfrey had gained her wish in all of this, for it seemed that Harry had no choice but to succumb to the bed rest that the mediwitch had ordered only a few hours before.  He could only hope that his dreams would be peaceful and free from darkness... or free from memory.

    Sighing softly, Harry slowly began the long count to ten beneath his breath as Draco smirked opposite him.  The light-haired teen was baiting him as only Draco Malfoy knew how, waiting patiently for the explosion that only he could elicit.  After all, once Harry finally let his temper get the best of him, it would all be over.  Snape had been hovering around he and Ron's table for the majority of the class, his dark gaze constantly jumping back and forth between the nemeses, ignoring Draco's barbs and eagerly awaiting what was bound to come next.  The only question remained who would blow up first - he or Ron.

    "What's the matter, Potter?" Draco asked, cautiously throwing a look to the head of his house before continuing on, his smile brightening.  "Didn't your father ever teach you which ingredient came next?  I certainly know that my father did... oh wait, that's right," he continued evenly to the snickering of his fellow Slytherins.  "Your father died protecting your pitiful excuse of a life, leaving you with the muggles where you belong."

    Growling, Harry ignored Hermione's frantic whisperings and broke free of Ron's hold, staggering to his feet as blood rushed to his face... only to have all of that blood disappear even quicker than it had come as a splintering pain seemed to burst from the scar above his eyes, casting the world into darkness.... and then back into light.

    He had no form and yet he knew that his eyes were locked on the familiar figure that towered before him.  He had no voice yet he wanted to cry out in fright and anger at the thing that stood cloaked in darkness, its red eyes locked on the building that stood before him.  He had nothing and could do nothing but watch as Lord Voldemort passed through a tunnel of Death Eaters and glided into the entryway of... of a store.  A very, very familiar store.

    Even though Harry had no body, and certainly had no heart, he nonetheless felt it catch in his chest as his desperate, inexistent eyes swept up and traced over the familiar sign: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  And then his heart, that wasn't even there, was crashing against his chest as invisible bile rose in his throat.  He wanted to scream at the Death Eaters that surrounded this store that they couldn't be here.  Not here.  Anywhere but here.  In the years since he had borne witness to the cruelties of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, Harry Potter had been forced to witness much - much more than he ever wanted to witness.  But to have to watch this?  He couldn't.  He wouldn't.... he had no choice.

    Unwillingly Harry felt the pull and followed the trail of Death Eaters until he was standing amongst them, his eyes falling upon the two figures that were slumped against each other, clinging to one another on the wooden floor amongst a scattered array of fake wands, canary creams, tickled feathers and other enchanted items - strewn about their creations.  The twins were bleeding from various places, and from the way that Fred cradled his brother's head in his lap, it was apparent that George had been held under the cruciatus curse for far too long, his hazel eyes glazed with pain.  They knew their end was near and while tears drifted unnoticed from their pain-wracked gazes, their eyes still carried a defiance that was altogether the Weasley twins - even if their gazes lacked their usual mirth and mischievousness.

    "Fred and George Weasley," Voldemort hissed, his eyes narrowed and his wand clenched firmly in his bony hand.  "Brought to ruin amongst your trivial pursuits."

    "Only you and your cowards would consider laughter to be trivial," Fred quickly retorted as he clutched his brother against him, forever protective of one he knew he was hopeless to protect.

    "Is it laughter that you desire?" the dark snake quickly retorted, a thin smile lifting his lips as Fred pulled his brother even closer.  "I shall give you laughter," he hissed before lifting his wand and waving it at the twins.  "Crucio," he whispered, eyes nearly dancing as the curse struck George, his anguished screams mingling with his brother's horrified pleas of mercy and the laughter of the Death Eaters that surrounded them.  "Ah yes... now this is laughter," Voldemort whispered as George's screams slowly turned into strangled gasps, a thick trail of blood leaking from his lips as his eyes rolled up to lock on his brother's anguished features.  And then... and then the screams stopped altogether as George Weasley finally stilled, his body releasing its last breath.

    And as George Weasley died, it was obvious to all that something within Fred Weasley died as well.  Instantly his eyes dimmed as he cradled his twin against him, his eyes never once leaving his brother's sightless hazel eyes.  The jeers of the Death Eaters could not reach him wherever he had gone, and somehow, Harry realized that nothing would ever reach Fred again.  When Voldemort finally tired of his game and ended Fred's life in a flare of green light, Harry almost felt like he was doing Fred a mercy - doing the Weasley's a mercy.  For somehow, he knew that Fred couldn't have survived without George.  It had always been that where one went, the other would always inevitably follow.  Apparently, the same went with death.

    Then everything was rushing back as pain exploded in his forehead, his senses reeling and trying to catch up with his thoughts.  He was dimly aware of hands supporting him and voices urgently calling out his name... of the hot tears that coursed down his cheeks.  Forcing the pain and the darkness away, Harry strove to open his watering eyes.  He had to... he had to tell them.  They couldn't find out... not like that.  And so with a force of will born out of desperation, Harry's green eyes fluttered open and locked on the concerned faces of his peers as they gazed worriedly at his downed form.

    "Harry, Neville has gone for the headmaster," Hermione murmured, catching his attention and causing him to swing his gaze to the friend that cradled his head in her lap.

    "Here, drink this," another voice ordered, and as he felt strong arms support him, his eyes landed on Snape's face, twisted in what was a mask of indifference with eyes shadowed in concern.  But even as the goblet was forced against his lips and the burning liquid forced down his throat, Harry's eyes were turning past until they locked on Ron's pale face.  A face that was filled with so much concern... concern for him.

    "What did you see, Harry?" Seamus asked, voicing the question that Harry knew they were all thinking - the secret fear that they all held deep within their hearts.  Even if the rest of the wizarding world refused to acknowledge Voldemort's return, the students of Hogwarts were only too well aware of this fact - and of the fact that Harry would be the first to know if anything had happened to any of their families.

    But Harry had no mind for promises of the headmaster, potions, the concerns of his fellow classmates, or idle questions.  Instead, his bloodshot green eyes remained locked on his best friend until Ron's eyes slowly widened, a horrible understanding slowly entering his gaze.  "No," Ron protested, the first words he had spoken as inevitably everyone turned to him.  "No," he whispered again, his face paling as he slowly shook his head back and forth, his eyes practically begging Harry to deny what he was beginning to feel in his heart.  "Please no," he whispered as tears flooded his eyes.

    "Ron," Harry croaked, his voice faltering and then cracking altogether as heavy sobs began to shake his shoulders.  But he had to know.  Ron had to know before they came.  Before they told him.  "Ron... the shop," he whispered, the room falling deadly silent as Ron slowly stumbled to his feet and began backing away, nearly tripping over the others as he tried to outrun his friend's words.

    "Fred and George?" he asked, his voice hollow and already knowing the answer to his question before he asked.

    "I'm sorry," Harry murmured weakly, feeling the darkness begin to claim him, no longer willing to be held at bay.  And the last thing that he saw before he was lost to the world was the sight of Ron falling to the ground as though invisible strings had been cut.  He had lost not only one, but two of his brothers this night - and there was naught that Harry could do but bear witness to their final moments.

    Sighing softly, Molly Weasley fidgeted in the soft bed, her hands pulling at the covers and then pushing them away, scooting this way and then that, never quite finding the place that fit her body just right.  Never finding the place in the bed that fit her body just as the bed that had comforted her for the past thirty years and held her.  This one, while large and comfortable, soft and warm, didn't have the small indentation where her body rest so well.  It didn't have the feel of her worn mattress nor the smell of the bed that had carried her through many a hard night and many a joyous joining.  Her bed had seen the conception of all seven of her children.  This bed had seen naught but the comings and goings of many a small child.

    "Molly, dear, if you don't cease your fidgeting neither of us will find sleep this night," Arthur's weary voice carried to his wife as he turned, allowing her to roll into his familiar embrace.

    "I'm sorry, luv," she murmured as she snuggled against him, breathing in his familiar scent.  "I just have my mind all in a tizzy, what with Harry up and disappearin' like that and then that big scene with he and Sirius."

    "I know, but you know that it's not our place-"

    "But it is, and you know it," Molly quickly countered, her voice soft.  "We're the only family that poor child has.  Remus, Sirius and us... that's it, and that's all there's ever been for him.  You know he's as much one of our own as Ron or Ginny," she murmured, her voice soft as she thought of the wayward youth that had captured her heart that very first day she saw him, when he was little more than a lost child trying to find his way into a strange new world.  She wouldn't abandon him now.

    Smiling in the dark room, Arthur pulled his wife closer to him, allowing her to pillow her head on the crook of his arm.  Within minutes her breathing slowed and he knew that she had found sleep at last... even if it now evaded him like a thief in the night.  After all, what Molly didn't say was how much she needed Harry and the other children in order to keep going.  If it wasn't for them, she would have fallen that day that they learned of what happened to Fred and George... their twins.  They were good boys, both of them, and it had nearly destroyed them to learn of what happened.  Of what Lord Voldemort had done for no other reason than to punish a family that had always openly opposed him.  It had taken far too long for Molly to awaken without the damp feeling of tears upon her pale cheeks and for her to go for even a few minutes without the sobs renewing once more.  Now, close to a year and a half later, Arthur would still catch the occasional glances that she gave to the children that she surrounded herself with - to the sadness that never quite left her soft hazel eyes.  In a way, he knew that sadness would never go away, for to do that, it would mean that she would finally have to let go of Fred and George, and if there was one thing that Arthur had learned these past few years, it was that you could never let go of the ones you love... even if they left you behind to go to a place free of pain or fear.  To go home.

    Sighing, Arthur slowly pushed his thoughts away and waited for sleep to claim him.  Someday he knew that he would see his boys again and that his family would become whole once more.  Until that time, they had no choice but to keep going as Fred and George would want them to.  As they needed to, if for no other reason than the children that still depended on them.  For all of the children.

    Breakfast the next morning almost seemed a quiet affair, what with the previous night's excitement.  It was as though everyone was sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Hermione and Ron kept sending Harry guarded looks, obviously anxious to find out what exactly transpired the night before that had sent the adults running from the castle as though Voldemort himself were outside.  And the sight of Sirius practically dragging Harry through the portrait door only a short while later only added to the confusion.  Yet at the same time Harry seemed lost in a world that was entirely all upon himself, the boy obviously distracted and withdrawn - and from the way that Remus continued to throw the dark-haired teen anxious glances, it was apparent that the professor, at least, didn't think that the previous night's activities were the reasons behind it.

    Suspiciously absent from the usual morning gathering were Sirius, Buffy, and Giles, and as the morning waned and the plates began to clear, Harry couldn't help but wonder if any of them would even make an appearance.  Sirius had promised to apologize to Buffy that morning, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if his godfather was putting off that task as long as possible.  After all, while he loved his godfather with all of his heart, Harry wasn't blind to his faults - pride being one of them.  But as for Buffy and Giles... their absence was more troubling and the Boy Who Lived couldn't help his anxious glances towards the entrance to the Great Hall every few minutes - a gesture that only served to heighten the tension that seemed to hover over the table.

    Finally, as Harry glanced surreptitiously towards the doorway once again, Hermione decided that enough was enough.  "Really, Harry, whatever do you keep looking for?" she demanded, cautious to keep her voice low so as not to attract any more attention towards their end of the table.  Not that there was really anyone nearby to notice.  As usual, the adults had gathered themselves at the long table's end, talking quietly amongst themselves with an occasional pointed glance sent in their direction.  However, contrary to the normal routine, the three teens sat a good pace away from the rest of their table - the tension having long since driven Ginny away to seat herself with the Longbottoms.

    "He's looking for Buffy," Ron guessed, Harry's sullen glare enough proof that he had guessed correctly.  "Although why you keep looking for her is still a mystery to me.  What did happen last night?"

    "The sleeping potion wasn't for herself, was it?" Hermione hazarded, a small frown pulling at her lips as Harry's shoulders seemed to slump even more at her words.

    "She slipped it to Giles," Harry admitted with a soft sigh as he ran a hand through his unruly black hair.  Even though he had slept the night through, his dreams from the night before guaranteed that his sleep was anything but restful.  If anything, he felt more tired now than when he had gone to bed.  "I used my dad's invisibility cloak to follow her into the Forbidden Forest."

    "But I thought that Sirius had the... oh," Ron mumbled, understanding dawning on his features even as Hermione opened her mouth to unleash some kind of lecture upon him.  "Well, did ya find her?" he asked, cutting off his girlfriend before she could even begin.  From the way that Sirius looked the night before, Ron was pretty confident that Harry had already been on the rough end of more than his share of lectures.

    "Yeah, Buffy as well as a basilisk, two vampires, a demon, and eight death Eaters - one of which we haven't seen in ages," he added, unable to stop the small grin from lifting his lips at the memory of a certain blond-haired Slytherin.

    "A basilisk?" Hermione asked, eyes wide and horrified even as Ron's jaw dropped to the floor, his eyes going as wide as saucers.

    "You didn't!  Not - not-"

    "Malfoy," Harry confirmed, his worries for their new friend temporarily forgotten under the heady bliss of the sight of Draco lying on the ground and twitching beneath his own unforgivable curse.  "We dueled and this time, I won," he added, grinning brightly.

    "Still all giddy about kicking your friend's butt last night?" Buffy asked by way of hello as she slipped into the vacant seat beside Harry.

    "I'd hardly call him Harry's friend," Ron quickly protested, even as Harry turned to Buffy with concerned eyes.

    "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low as his concerned green eyes took in her haggard appearance.  Even though they had arrived back at the school hours ago, it looked as though Buffy hadn't slept at all.  Her tanned skin was pale to the point of gray in the wan morning sunlight and dark circles lined her pretty green eyes - and that was beside the hard line of her lips and the lines that seemed to have appeared overnight on her young face.

    "Oh peachy," she returned, forcing a small smile as she felt, more than saw the glances of the other adults at the table as they all settled on her small frame.

    "Has Giles woken up... yet..." Harry trailed off as the watcher strode through the door, his shoulders stiff and his lips pursed together in an expression that seemed very much not pleasant.  Really, the Giles that approached them looked nothing like the mild-mannered watcher that the group had come to know, respect, and like.  If anything, he looked as though someone had not only given him a good dose of some of Fred and George's best pranks, but as if someone had run over his kitten while they were at it.  "Oh boy," he muttered, wincing at the glare that the older man sent in their direction before sitting himself stiffly with the other adults.  Which was, of course, when Sirius chose to make his grand appearance, blissfully ignorant of the tension that had grown to the point that it was beginning to choke the others.

    "Good morning everyone!" he cried out cheerfully, purposefully bypassing the other adults and settling his long frame on the bench beside Hermione.  "And just the Slayer that I wanted to see," he began, completely oblivious of the frantic shake of his godson's head.  "Buffy, about last night-"

    "Don't worry about it," Buffy interrupted, finally tearing her eyes away from her clenched hands and lifting her head, her chin jutting out stubbornly in a way that Harry was beginning to recognize.  "It's no big."

    "No big what?"

    "No big deal," Buffy continued, forcing a smile that was meant to be pleasant but merely turned out sour.  "I understand completely," she added, her voice growing louder by the second as her shoulders straightened and her eyes flashed dangerously.  "You were just worried about Harry.  You just wanted to protect Harry," she added as she turned her stormy gaze down the table until she was matching her watcher glare for glare.  And then, without another sound, Buffy wordlessly pushed her plate back and stood from the table and turned away.

    "Buffy, dear," Molly Weasley quickly called out, stilling Buffy's movements as the matronly woman threw a concerned glance at her husband.  "You haven't even eaten yet," she said, her voice soft yet pointed as she added a motherly note that her children never failed to heed.  Then again, Buffy wasn't her child.

    Forcing herself to turn back towards the table and attempt a smile for the concerned woman, Buffy slowly shook her head - and then stiffened as her eyes fell upon Giles who was sitting right beside her.  Feeling her anger swell once more, Buffy felt her muscles tighten as her smile turned frosty and then crumbled before a grimace.  "I think I've lost my appetite," she returned, her voice cold as she turned and stormed away.

    Flustered, Molly anxiously watched the girl go before turning back to her family and friends.  "That girl is far, far too skinny as it is," she muttered crossly as she threw a glance down the table where her Ron and the others seemed torn between staying or going after the furious slayer, before wisely deciding on the former.  Buffy had looked ready to positively explode, and if what Arthur had said last night about what had happened, a slayer exploding was not something that she cared to have any of her children around.  "She really needs to eat more," she continued, throwing a fierce scowl at the man who sat rigidly beside her.

    "Molly," Arthur quickly cut in, his voice soft as he, too, sent Giles a cautious glance, "you aren't her mother-"

    "Well someone needs to be!" she quickly retorted as Giles suddenly abandoned his seat and strode from the hall, turning in the opposite direction that his slayer had taken.  Surprised and more than a little confused, Molly watched the man go for a moment before turning to her family in confusion.  "Was it something I said?"

To be continued...