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Disclaimer: whoa! Not that smart to make up this stuff!!

AN---pick a season, any season (preferably 5 or 6) of BTVS. I don’t care, this is off canon completely.


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Buffy looked up from her magazine at the sound of the door knob turning. She put the magazine down and stood up, putting herself into fighting stance. Rocking slightly on the balls of her heels, she got ready to attack whoever came through her door.

The door swung open, and she pushed herself off of her feet and leapt at the intruder.

“Oof!” Spike grunted upon impact. The two rolled on the floor for a bit before they came to a stop with Buffy straddling his hips, her nose inches away from his.

“Well,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Not exactly a hug and a kiss, but I’ll take what I can.”

She rolled her eyes, placing her hands on either side of his head and pushing herself up to a sitting position. “Meh,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him briefly. “Your fault.”

“How is you launching yourself through the air and at me, my fault?”

“Because,” she said, rising to her knees. “It just is.”

“Oh that’s wonderful,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s blame Spike for doing nothing.”

“Well,” Buffy shrugged, standing up. “I’ve done it before. It isn’t new.” She put her hand out for him, and he clasped it in his own. She pulled him up, and straightened his duster lapels. Brushing imaginary lint off of the shoulders, she said, “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“What?” he said, grabbing her hands in his. “Now I need a REASON to come see my girl?”

She smiled slightly, but was determined not to let him see it. “Since when am I ‘your girl’?”

He pushed the small tendril of hair that had escaped behind her ear, and then ran his fingers over the healing bites on her neck before tapping them lightly. “Since you agreed to these.” He grabbed her left hand and lifted it to the right side of his neck, brushing her soft fingers over the marks on the side. “And since you gave me these.”

She pouted, drawing her hand away. “Poophead.”

“‘Poophead’? Oh, wonderful, she’s regressed to second grade.”

“Shut up,” she said, smile breaking free. She grabbed his hand and led him over to the couch. He sat down, spreading his arms out, and she slipped into his lap.

“So,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her middle and kissing the side of her neck. “What are we doing tonight?”

“Well,” she said, bringing her arm up and around, clasping it to the back of his head. “Dawn, Connor, Willow and Oz are all here, and Xander and Anya are having a romantic dinner. We thought that the rest of us would stay home and watch some old movies.”

“How is wolf-boy, anyway?”

Willow and Tara had still been together nine months ago when Oz had shown up on the doorstep, wanting to be a Scooby again. Apparently, Willow had some repressed feelings for the werewolf, since two days after his return, Tara had stumbled upon the two redheads locked in a passionate embrace. Willow had apologized to Tara, saying that she loved her and was so sorry that she had to hurt her, but she was still IN love with Oz.

Tara had packed all of her belongings up and moved to a quiet town in Iowa, where she met and fell in love with Sarah, a psychic.

Willow and Oz had had a rocky start, but wound up being happily engaged.

“He’s fine,” Buffy said, turning her head around. “Waiting for Willow to stop squealing over bridal magazines. Dawn and Connor are in the kitchen playing ‘Speed’, and I’m here in the arms of my wonderful boyfriend.”

He growled lightly against her skin. “Hmm, boyfriend. Rather like the sound of that.”

She turned to face forward. “I knew you would.”

At that moment, Dawn and Connor entered the room. “Spike!” Connor greeted, walking over to the vampire. His hand came up to give a handshake/high five to the blond. “Finally, some male company.”

“Where’s Oz, then?”

The answer came when Willow and Oz came down the stairs, both of their mouths smudged with lipstick. “Sorry,” Willow said. “We were a little-”

“Pre-occupied?” Spike finished, a smirk falling across his face.

“Spike,” Buff said, slapping him lightly across the chest. “Behave.” She turned to her friends. “So you guys, what are we-” she stopped at the sound of knocking on her door. “Who could that be?”

She climbed off of Spike’s lap and walked to the door, pulling it open. Two cloaked people stood on her doorstep, shadows from their hoods covering their faces.

“Sorry for disrupting you,” Cloaky #1 said in a British accent. “But are you Buffy Summers?”

“I am,” she said, tensing slightly. Spike came to stand behind her and demanded, “Who wants to know?”

“Sorry for coming to you like this,” Cloaky #2 said, also speaking with the accent. “But it’s necessary.”

“You see,” #1 said, pushing his hood back to reveal white blond hair and striking grey eyes. “My classmate and I are in the fight of our time, and we heard that you deal with this a lot.”

“Your classmate?”

“That would be me,” #2 said, pushing his hood back as well. Buffy’s eyes widened as she took in the messy black hair, bright green eyes hidden behind glasses, and the lightning scar. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“And I’m Draco Malfoy,” said the blond. “And we…we need your help.”

---

Buffy opened her top drawer, pulling out all of her shirts. She crossed the room and over to her bed, placing the garments in the open suitcase. Next to her, Spike was arranging the clothes she had for him in her room, inside of his suitcase.

“Ducks,” he said, folding a pair of black jeans. “Why the hell are we doing this?”

Buffy leaned her hands on the dresser, shutting her eyes. “Because. We’re supposed help people.”

“Yeah,” Spike said, placing the jeans in the bag, picking up a shirt and raising an eyebrow at her as he began to fold it. “People. As in real people. Not fictional characters from a bloody BOOK that show up on our doorstep!”

“We’ve dealt with stranger things.”

“Really?”

“Yes, remember the hefflelump? And the woozle?”

Spike paused, remembering the cute and cuddly demons that had come out of the Pooh Bear book. “Oh yeah…”

“Well, this is going to be like that.”

“Luv,” he said, laughing. “I don’t think Scar head and Platinum boy expect us to lure them into another dimension with peanut butter.”

She turned around to glare at him before saying, “One: who are you calling ‘Platinum Boy’? Two: this is serious. There’s a mega-wizard out there somewhere, gunning for these two boys and their friends. This isn’t a time to joke.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Ok, so maybe a little joking.”

He walked over to her and kissed her on the head. “Knew there was a reason I loved you.”

---

“Potter,” said Draco, rubbing his eyes. “What are we doing here?”

“Getting help, you git,” Harry said, glaring at the blond. “Why?”

“Because, she’s shorter than the mini Weasalette! And she looks like a bloody weak chit.”

“Yes, but she’s the SLAYER, Malfoy! She deals with this kind of thing all the time!”

“Really? Then if she’s such a great warrior and defeats all kinds of demons and vampires, why does she have one living with her?”

“Maybe…he’s like you.”

“Like me?” Draco scoffed. “I know he has the same colored hair, but mine’s natural.”

“Not that, you poof. What I meant was, maybe he’s switched sides. Maybe he’s fighting for the greater good, like you are now.”

Draco smiled, his grey eyes sparkling lightly. “Yeah. The greater good.”

They looked up as the door swung open and a brunet and a blonde walked into the house.

“Anya,” said the male. “We can’t just not leave a tip for the waiter?”

“Why not?” demanded the blonde. “It would save money for you, which in turn saves money for me. It’s all very sensible. And don’t argue about money with me in front of strangers!”

“What?” he said, and she pointed towards Harry and Draco. The man jumped and pointed a shaky finger at them. “Holy frijoles! Anya, do you see what I do?”

“You mean the two strange boys in the living room? Then yes, I do, Xander.”

They all looked towards the stairs as Buffy came bounding down them. She looked up at Xander and Anya and said, “Hey guys,” before walking into the kitchen. When she came back out with a bag of blood, she said, “Harry, Draco, we’ll be another forty-five minutes, okay? We just need to finish packing. So do Xander and Anya.” As her foot hit the top step, she paused and turned around. “Oh yeah. Xander, Anya, this is Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Draco, Harry, this is Xander Harris and Anya…Anya, what’s your last name?”

“Oh, you can’t pronounce the original,” said the blonde brightly. “But when the stupid watcher men came, I decided it was Jenkins.”

“Right, well, this is Anya Jenkins.”

As she walked up the stairs, Xander rubbed his hands together. “So…Harry Potter, huh?”

“Yes.”

“And Draco Malfoy.”

“Yeah.”

Xander was quiet for a few more seconds before saying, “Well, I think being friends with Buffy just made my life a whole lot weirder.”

Anya patted his arm. “It was pretty weird before, sweetie.”

---

“Connor?” Dawn said, the phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder. “What do you think we’re going to have to do?”

“I don’t know,” her boyfriend replied. “They told Buffy, right?”

“Yeah, but…” she sighed, putting the shirt in the suitcase. “I want to know what my family’s getting itself into.”

“Hey! I’m not your family!”

“Fine, my family and my boyfriend. Happy?”

“Yeah. So,” he said, and she could tell he was trying to sound casual. “That Draco…he remind you of someone?”

“Does that someone bleach his hair, is British and also very hot?”

“Yeah, do you…wait, you think he’s hot?”

Dawn laughed. “Yes, Connor. And I also secretly have a shrine dedicated to him in my closet,” she teased.

“Better only have one of those about me.”

“You know it.”

---

“So…” Buffy said, tapping her hand nervously against the curb. “We just…stand here?”

“Yes,” said Harry, glancing around. “Mr. Weasley said he would be here around midnight, American time, with the portkey. We gave him exact directions and coordinates, so he should be right about-”

“Here?” finished a male voice.

The group turned around to see a middle aged man, who’s red hair was thinning out. “Harry,” he grinned. “Good to see you.” His smiled softened at the sight of Malfoy. “Hello,” he nodded.

“Arthur,” Draco said. “How’s Molly?”

“She’s doing alright, thank you for asking.” He turned his gaze over to Buffy and his eyes widened before he bustled over to her. “Ms. Summers,” he said, taking her hand in both of his and shaking it firmly. “It’s such an honor to meet you, really. Dumbledore spoke so highly of your reputation.”

“Oh…uh, thanks,” Buffy said, before leaning up to whisper in Spike’s ear, “Dumbledore knows who I am?”

“Guess so.”

“Right,” Mr. Weasley said as he pulled away from Buffy. “I have the portkey in my pocket. It’s rather…odd, but what else can you do?”

Buffy raised an eyebrow at Spike as Mr. Weasley produced a long, wooden kitchen spoon from his robes. “What are we supposed to do with that?”

The man held it out in front of him, and said, “All of you touch it, and you’ll see.”

The Scoobies slowly approached the spoon, and each tentatively put a finger on the spoon. “What happens now?” Spike asked.

Mr. Weasley yelled, “ACTIVATE!”

And then everything started to spin.



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i couldn't resist a harry potter/buffy crossover! so sue me





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