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Draco Malfoy & the House of Seraphim	By : KaliDiah Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > General - Misc Views: 20461 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Angel, or Harry Potter or their associated characters, settings, or concepts. They belong to their various creators & distributing agencies, and have only been borrowed for entertainment purposes with no intent to profit.

Chapter List
- 17
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy belated holidays! Hope everyone enjoyed them. Me? Eh, I coulda done with less family, more rest, and absolutely NO illness (both me and the Hatchling got hit over the weekend ... oh, joy). But, other than that, it was okay. After all, I DID get the Best of Bowie DVD set. Can't go wrong with that!

In any case, since you guys have been so good to me, I'm gonna put up two -- that's right, TWO! -- chapters this update! Things are going to start clicking into place soon, and we'll also be seeing what the HALO Harry has been up to all this time. Oh, yeah, and of course, more hot vampire lovin' (in fact, said hot vampire lovin' will occur next update!). :)

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Draco sat on one of the couches in the lobby, waiting for Angel and McGonagall to emerge from the office. He had a pretty good idea what he was showing her. He didn't know everything that had been discovered during the adults' quest through the student files, but he knew enough. Enough to make him shudder.

A week ago, when he had divulged to his new family about Harry Potter's mother being his godmother, it spurned a whole new search. Lily's files were searched, as well as James Potter's, Sirius Black's, Remus Lupin's, the Longbottoms', the Malfoys', and even Peter Pettigrew's. Draco didn't know exactly what was found, but it had caused a great deal of yelling, and he had never seen Angel so pissed.

One thing he did learn, however. Harry was not the only one who was meant to be his godbrother. Just as Harry's mother had been his godmother, Narcissa had been Neville Longbottom's. Of course, that was before Narcissa had fallen in with Voldemort. He was pretty sure that Angel had every intention of pulling the other two boys aside and letting them know this information. Draco had to wonder how that would affect things. Would they want to be friends with him? Perhaps he should make the first move and let them know he wouldn't be adverse to a truce.

Yeah, like they'd accept that, he thought to himself sadly. But, being friends with Harry Potter was all he had ever wanted. Even before he knew who he was, he felt drawn to him. He now realized it probably had to do with Harry's mother. After all, she had said that the two boys were connected in more than one way. But he had no way of knowing that way back then. All he knew is that he was drawn to the waif of a boy in Madam Malkin's, someone he normally wouldn't deem worthy enough to glance sideways at.

So, he had tried to strike up a conversation. That didn't work as well as Draco had hoped, as the other boy was rather unresponsive. Draco had often wondered what it would have been like if he could do it all over again.

First, he would start off by asking the boy's name. He was sure that, had he known exactly who he was speaking to, things would have gone differently. It would have caused him to pay more attention to the other boy's reactions. Looking back, it was clear that Harry was nervous, even downright scared. If he had taken the time to realize that, Draco would have asked what was wrong. Harry would have then told him that he had been raised by Muggles who kept his true heritage from him, and he really had no idea what was going on. Draco would have jumped right in, then and there, and offered to help Harry learn about the Wizarding world. Draco would have invited him to sit with him on the train when the time came, even to meet him at the station and show him how to get to the platform.

Harry wouldn't have needed Ron Weasley then.

Of course, this brought on a paradox. Would Harry have been able to save the Philosopher's Stone without Weasley? Would he have even bothered? Would he have been corrupted by the Malfoys' twisted views by then?

Or, would the opposite have happened? Would Draco have been infected with Harry's goodness, and thus shed his father's prejudices that much sooner? Would he have become friends with Granger and Weasley? Granger he could see, as she was damn smart and fairly reasonable. But Weasley was another matter. Well, at least that particular Weasley.

Contrary to what he made everyone think, Draco did not dislike all of the Weasleys. It was pretty much just Ron. The elder two sons he didn't know at all, while the old Prefect ... what was his name? P-something. In any case, he didn't know him enough to dislike him. The twins he did know, and he had to admit, for being Gryffindors, they thought a lot like Slytherins. As for the girl Weasley, she was a right spitfire, and even after being dragged into the Chamber of Secrets, she didn't run and hide. Nearly anyone else would have been broken by that. Not Ginny. If anything, she was more strong-willed than ever, and didn't take flack from anyone. That, he could respect.

Ron, on the other hand, was a bloody Neanderthal. He was rather thick, refused to see what was really going on around him, and was too quick to anger (usually for no apparent reason). He was only loyal so long as it benefited him, and would turn on his best friends at the slightest misunderstanding. Draco knew this because he watched. He watched and listened and paid special attention to the Golden Trio. Simply because Draco couldn't help but feel that he was supposed to be the third member of the triad, not Weasley.

Of course, now that he knew Lily Potter had been his godmother, he was even more convinced of that. He was also convinced that they should have been a quartet, with Neville Longbottom as the fourth. Every one of his instincts was telling him this was the way it was supposed to be.

But, he had screwed that up on the first day. All because he didn't ask that small, raven-haired boy his name.

Even though it seemed the odds were stacked against him, he was determined to change things. After everything he had been through this past summer, there was no way he could go back to the way he was. That Draco Malfoy was quite dead, and he preferred to keep it that way. He still wasn't sure how he was going to go about making things up to Harry and his friends, but he would keep his eyes open.

Of course, trying to befriend them while hiding his new nature while trying to learn about his new nature while learning about alternative magicks while trying to keep safe from his father while trying to figure out what the hell Dumbledore was up to ... it was not going to be easy.

As he continued to wait, it became suddenly apparent to Draco that he had far too many things to think about.

It was another good fifteen minutes before Angel stepped from his office, followed by a very pale and obviously shaken Professor McGonagall. He blinked rapidly, noticing the bright orange fear of her aura. He suppressed a shudder -- if Minerva McGonagall was afraid, then it was worse than he imagined. He stood and made his way to them.

She regarded him with a shaky and sad smile. "I truly am sorry for what has happened, Mal- ... Draco."

He was a tad bit confused. Surely a misplaced Hogwarts letter wasn't worth that much regret. He looked to Angel, who sighed.

"I told her. Don't worry," he said quickly when Draco's eyes grew wide in alarm. "We can trust her. I've known her for a while.."

"You've known Dumbledore for a while, and look what he's done," Draco snapped.

Angel glared and growled. "You will not insinuate such things about Minerva, Childe."

Draco immediately dropped his gaze to the floor. "I apologize, both to you and Professor McGonagall," he said softly. Then, bringing his eyes back up to Angel, he added, "But surely you understand my concerns."

Angel's expression softened. "Of course I do, Dray. But, Minerva has something that Albus doesn't, that ensures that I can trust her."

"And what's that?" Draco asked, trying not to let his disbelief into his voice.

"Unlike the Headmaster," McGonagall answered haughtily, "I am Blood-Bound to Angel."

Silence settled over the Hyperion. Draco had barely noticed that the rest of the group had crowded behind him and had listened to the whole conversation.

"I thought Aurelians didn't do such things," Wesley said quietly.

"Normally, they don't. At least, not on purpose."

"Perhaps we should sit down, and you can tell us the story from the beginning?" Giles suggested.

Angel gave a sheepish grin, but guided McGonagall to one of the couches. "Alright," he said as everyone found a seat (Draco happily snuggling up to Spike, who in turn happily snuggled up to Angel, who in turn purred slightly). "Once upon a time, there was a vampire with a soul. For a very long time, he struggled to find his place in the world. He wandered from place to place, trying to reconcile with the horrid things he had done in his unlife. Then, a couple years after the second World War, his savior came to him in the form of a little silver tabby cat ..."

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SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS -- EARLY AUTUMN 1947

Minerva McGonagall hurried down the street. It was dark, and she hated walking through the city at night. But, she had absolutely refused to try to get any kind of driver's license (after all, she was a witch ... not to mention, the lunatics drove on the wrong side of the road in the States). So, every weekday evening, after helping the Transfiguration Professor at the Salem Witches' Institute look over essays or help plan classes, she would walk as quickly as she could the few blocks to her meager apartment.

When she had been offered the internship abroad, she had jumped at it. She had wanted to become a teacher so desperately, and Albus Dumbledore (her own Transfigurations professor) had turned in a glowing recommendation to their Ministry. As the entire world was still recovering from the horror that was World War II, the various Ministries of Magick across the globe decided that an Intern Exchange Program would only help.

So, shortly after she had graduated, Minerva packed up her things and came to Salem. The Institute was kind enough to put her up in a small apartment. Luckily, the entire building housed only witches and wizards, most of them her age, so she didn't feel too out of place. They had been very kind to her, teaching her about life in the States, and were eager to learn about England and Scotland as well.

But as nice as that was, and as much as she enjoyed working at the Institute as a teacher's aide, she hated walking through the city at night. There were far too many Muggles about, and though she didn't dislike them, it would be harder for her to use magick in an emergency. And by the way some of the local men would leer at her as she hurried past, an emergency was inevitable.

She was a block and a half away from her home when she passed four such men, and on cue, they leered.

"Hey there, pretty girl, what's your hurry?"

"I need to get home," she said, not bothering to make eye contact, much less stop. She continued on, but she could sense them following her. Being an Animagus had it's perks, especially when one's animal form had heightened senses. She picked up her pace, and thanked the gods she had worn sensible shoes. She pulled her light cardigan sweater closed, flipped her black ponytail over her shoulder, and hugged herself tight.

"Come on," another of the men called after her, "we just wanna talk!"

Oh, yes, of course, she thought sarcastically. I'll just break out the tea service right here. "Sorry," she called behind her, "I'm running late." But, she could still hear them, and they were picking up their own speed. They were muttering to each other, and she was quite sure they weren't discussing the details of last week's Little League game. She spotted an alleyway ahead, and after running through possibilities in her head, ducked into it. At least here, there weren't a multitude of Muggles, and she could stun them if needed.

They followed, as she knew they would, and soon had her trapped in a dead end. Oh, wonderful, she thought as she sighed and turned to face her pursuers. "Listen," she snapped, putting her hands on her hips and adopting the look her mother had often used on her brothers, "I've had a long day, and I just want to go home ..."

"We can go with you," one of the men suggested.

"Not on your life," she answered, dropping her voice.

"I don't think you understand," the first man said. "You don't have much of a choice."

Minerva cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, really? Well, sir, I beg to differ." With lightning speed, she whipped out her wand and aimed at his head. "Now, I'm thinking you'd make a particularly lovely welcome mat, and I would take great delight in wiping my shoes all over you ... of course, then you could look up my skirt. So, that option is out."

"What the hell are you talking about?" the second man asked, beyond confused.

Minerva just rolled her eyes and leveled her wand at him. "Stupefy," she said. Red light shot from the tip of her wand and struck him in the chest, dropping him to the ground. "That is what the hell I'm talking about."

The remaining three men gasped and exchanged glances, but made no move to leave. Usually, any Muggle seeing one of their comrades hit by Stupefy would be running for the hills, but these three stayed put. That did not bode well for Minerva. Again, she began running scenarios through her head. She was good at magick, and her aim was above par, but she had never gotten the hand of rapid-fire casting. Judging by their builds, and the fact that they didn't seem inebriated, they would be able to move reasonably fast. She could drop one, possibly two, before any of them reached her, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get all of them.

Without removing her eyes from her attackers, she inched her way to the back of the alley. At the very least, if she stood against the back wall, no one would be able to get behind her. She knew better than to allow her attention to become divided. "Listen," she said again, trying to pour every inch of authority she could into her voice. She knew it was silly, as these men were at least a decade older than her seventeen years and considerably larger, but she had been told on several occasions that she could be a considerable force, if she wanted to. "I just want to go home. I don't want company, and I don't want trouble. So, how about going your way, and I'll go mine?"

"I don't think so. Whatever you did ... you hurt our friend here."

"I can revive him. It's relatively easy."

"Well, then, I suggest you do that."

"Enervate!" she called, hoping the spell would reach the unconscious Muggle. It was meant to be used in close quarters, not from a distance. She needn't have worried, though, for the man jerked awake, blinking in confusion. She then mentally kicked herself. She should have known better than to think that by reviving their friend they would go easy on her.

They slowly advanced on her, and for the first time in her life, Minerva McGonagall began to panic. For the life of her, she couldn't remember the simplest spells. There was one thing she could remember, however, as it was a part of her. She put her wand away, and concentrated. She focused on becoming smaller, on her bones shortening and her muscles contracting. She visualized the soft grey-black-white fur, the velvety pads on paws, the swishy tail.

"Holy shit!" one of the men cried, and she knew the transformation was complete.

The silver tabby cat streaked between Muggle legs and out to the main street. Dammit dammit dammit, she thought as she heard heavy footfalls behind her. I can't believe they're still after me!

She tore down the street, going right past her apartment complex in her panic. She spotted the small park where she would sometimes have lunch on a blanket on Saturdays while reading. She knew there were both thick bushes and high trees there, and she bolted toward it.

However, she did not expect a solid shadow to impede her journey. With a shocked mewl, she rocked backwards and looked up. She realized it wasn't a shadow at all, but a man, dressed in such dark clothes that he seemed to blend into the night. He was tall and broad with dark hair and eyes, and a mischievous smirk in place.

"Well, hello there, kitty."

A shout came from behind her. "Stop that cat!"

She looked up at the stranger, wondering what he would do. He looked down at her, obviously contemplating the situation. He then scooped her up and held her securely, scratching behind the ears. Ooooooohhhhh, niiiiiiiiice. She, of course, began to purr. She stopped as the four Muggles caught up.

"Oh, good, you got her."

"She yours?" the stranger asked, his voice smooth and calm. Minerva tried to snuggle into his coat in an effort to get away.

The first man who had spoken to her paused for a moment. "Y-yes, she is. She scurried out of the house when I opened the door. She's a bit ... adventurous."

Again, Minerva tried to meld with the man, and he hugged her a bit tighter. "I dunno about that," he said. "She seems afraid of you."

Help me, help me, help me! Pleeeeaaaaase!!!

"Well, that's 'cause she knows she's in trouble. She's not supposed to go outside."

The stranger eyed them suspiciously. "You won't hurt her, will you?"

"Huh? Oh. Oh, no, I won't. No treats for a while though."

The man nodded, albeit unsurely, and went to hold Minerva out to the other man. She struggled and cried out in fear, and tried to claw the other Muggle. "On second thought," the dark man said, bringing her back into his embrace. "I don't think she likes you. And I don't think she's yours."

"But ..."

"Why don't you go, leave her alone. I'll make sure she finds a good home." He turned away from them and began to walk away. Minerva sighed a little kitty sigh of relief, when the other man spoke.

"But, she is mine!"

Her savior spun around, careful not to shake her too much, and growled. Actually growled. She looked up and started. His features were changed and ferocious. She knew instantly that this wasn't a man at all, but a vampire. Out of the frying pan ...

"I said go!" the vampire boomed. The Muggles were sufficiently terrified and took off without a glance back. The vampire watched them go, and once out of sight, his face regained his more human countenance. He then looked down at her.

Please don't think I'm a snack, she thought, beginning to shake.

His brow furrowed. "I scared you, didn't I?" he asked softly. He began petting her gently, paying special attention to under her chin. "Sorry 'bout that, but I didn't think anything else would get those cretins to leave. I don't want to hurt you, kitty." He sat down on a nearby bench and released her.

For some reason, though, she didn't flee. This was the perfect opportunity for her to run, to get back to the safety of her apartment, but she couldn't do it. There was something about this vampire that was just ... odd. She knew about vampires, and they usually weren't as caring with animals. She hopped off his lap and sat beside him, regarding him curiously.

He must've noticed her hesitation, for he asked, "Do you have a home?" He gasped slightly when she nodded. "You can understand me, can't you?" She nodded again. "Wow."

She deliberated for a moment, wondering if it would be worthwhile to show him what she really was. She decided it couldn't hurt. After all, he had saved her life. So, she once again concentrated, and her body shifted and changed until she was once again a seventeen-year-old girl. The vampire jumped up, and almost looked ready for a fight.

"I won't hurt you," she said quickly. "I just thought that since you saved my life, you deserved to know just who and what you're saving."

"Did they ...?" he asked, pointing in the general direction of the Muggles' hasty retreat.

"Yes. I transformed to get away from them."

"You're Scottish."

She blinked a couple times, a bit confused how the conversation had jumped from her being in mortal peril to her being Scottish. "Um, yes, I am."

"I'm Irish, originally."

"You don't sound it."

"I've had to adapt."

She just nodded, and an uncomfortable silence settled over them. "I ... I should be getting home," she said lamely, as she rose from the bench.

"Oh, let me walk you," he said quickly, taking a few steps toward her.

She again blinked in confusion. "That's not really ... I mean, I only live right around the corner."

"Those creeps could still be hanging around."

He had a point. A good one at that. She knew that if he was with her, those thugs wouldn't bother her, even if she was in human form. She sighed and stepped over to him, holding out her hand. "In that case, my name is Minerva McGonagall."

He smiled as he took her hand and gently shook it. "I just go by Angel these days."

Something in her memory clicked. "You're a vampire, yes?" When he nodded, she continued. "Named Angel?" He nodded again. "You ... don't have a soul, by chance, do you?"

His eyes widened. "How did you know?"

She smiled. "Does the name Albus Dumbledore mean anything to you."

He gaped at her in shock. "You know Albus Dumbledore?!"

She nodded. "Yes, he was my Transfigurations professor back at Hogwarts, and he helped me get an internship here in Salem."

"Really? How ... how is he?"

"Doing well." She then grinned and cocked her head to the side. Albus had never mentioned Angel being so drop-dead gorgeous, or so sweet. "Like I said, I don't live far from here. Perhaps we could have some tea, and I'll catch you up on your friend."

Angel cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned. "Well, far be it from me to turn down an invitation from such a pretty lady. Especially one that turns into such a cute kitty." His smile widened as he offered her his elbow. "Shall we away, Minerva?"

"Absolutely," she purred as she took his arm. "But, you're allowed to call me Kitty, if you want to."

He barked with laughter as they sauntered back to the street. "Looks like we won't have to worry about you being traumatized by tonight's events."

She grinned. "Oh, very little shakes me these days. However, I could use something more ... relaxing than tea. Unfortunately, I am still underage in this country, so I'm unable to actually purchase anything." She looked at him with a mock pout and batted her eyelashes.

He smiled down at her. "My, my, my. You are a sneaky li'l minx, aren't you?" he asked, humor in his voice.

She giggled as they turned the corner. "Sneakiness. It's not just for Slytherins anymore."

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TO MY REVIEWERS

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Draco Malfoy & the House of Seraphim