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Draco Malfoy & the House of Seraphim	By : KaliDiah Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > General - Misc Views: 20464 -:- 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
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Okay, first things first ...

A QUICK SPECIAL THANKS: Once again, I have to thank Aimee-chan. My computer has major attitude problems, so it won't let me DO anything. Thanks, Aims, for helping me get this up, and with the HTML coding (I. Know. NOTHING!!). :::huggles Aimee:::

Also ... IF ANYONE WISHES TO BE NOTIFIED OF UPDATES VIA EMAIL, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

Now, on with the show ...
Draco was once again navigating the school halls, but this time he was not on the warpath. After his outbreak in the supply room, he was able to calm himself. He now glided gracefully toward the Great Hall where the students were congregating for one final dinner. He had one last show to put on for the school. After that, he could hide away in a dark corner until everyone left the next morning and then sleep the next two months away.

He would have made it too, had it not been for the sudden appearance of two men in the middle of the hallway. He ran smack-dab into the larger one and toppled back to the floor. Before the pair could turn around to regard him, he was back on his feet with wand in hand. “Who the bloody hell are you and how did you get here?!” the young wizard demanded. He quickly played out scenarios in his mind, calculating moves before they even had a chance to answer.

“Oh, look. A boy with a pointy stick,” the blond drawled.

Draco’s eyes grew wide for a moment at the sight of him, but quickly gained control again. Something in him screamed “Malfoy”, but he put it aside. He was quite sure he had never seen this man before, so there was no way he could be a relative ... could he? No! It’s just that whole bit about family. It’s on my mind, so my wishful thinking is just making an impossible jump. There’s no chance.

He cleared his mind and focused again on the fact that two strange men just appeared out of nowhere. He remembered no flash of light, no loud crack, both of which would signify Apparition. So, how the hell did they just ... materialize? All of this passed through his mind in a split second, and he became vaguely aware that the other man, the one he had run into, was talking.

“Spike, you do remember that we don’t like pointy sticks, right?”

"But, he’s just a kid, what can he do?”

Draco arched a delicate eyebrow. Just. A. Kid? Oh, he’d show these two trespassers just how much of a kid he wasn’t. He felt the magick within him spring to life instantly. He concentrated for a mere second, letting his mind focus on exactly what he wanted the energy to do. As he traced an intricate pattern in the air with his wand, he channeled the magick into it. “Ablegatio!” he snarled, and forced it out to do his bidding. “Spike” went flying down the hall.

The other man, whose name Draco was still unaware of, watched his companion go sailing, then turned back to the wizard. The stranger’s brow was now gnarled and twisted, his eyes glowing an ungodly gold, and jagged teeth were clearly visible. Draco took a couple reluctant steps back. It took him all of two seconds to realize he had just pissed off a vampire. Suddenly, he no longer worried about his father’s wrath as much.

“And just who the hell do you think you are?!” the vampire demanded. The victim of Draco’s spell was just returning to the scene, and he noticed that he shared the same demonic features.

The Malfoy pride came to the fore, and he straightened and squared his shoulders. “I am Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy.”

Suddenly, the younger vampire’s face shifted back to its human visage. He looked at Draco with uncertainty etched on his face. “Angel, it’s okay,” he said, somewhat gently. “He’s just a kid. We don’t do that no more, remember?”

Angel looked down at Spike, and it was clear that some sort of silent communication was taking place. He then nodded, and let his features return to his normal ones. “Still doesn’t explain who he thinks he is, tossing my Grand-Childe around like that.”

Oh, great. Not only had he pissed off a vampire, but he had cast against someone in his bloodline. Bloody brilliant. Even so, he could not bring himself to apologize.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Angel asked. “Cat got your tongue?” The young man only glared. “Fine. Could you at least tell us where we are?”

Something, he assumed his Common Sense, was telling him to run and get as many professors as he possibly could. But something else that loudly proclaimed itself to be Yeah Right realized he would make it all of five steps before the two demons overtook him. And of course, there was that stubborn pride of his. This Malfoy cowered before no one. Not even an evil, blood-sucking demon ... or two ... who had just mysteriously emerged out of thin air. He tried to stand taller, and took a breath. “Hogwarts,” the boy answered simply.

“Did you just ...” Angel trailed off, evidently lost in thought.

“Angel?” Spike asked. He waved a hand in front of his face, and Angel jerked back and grabbed it.

“Knock it off.”

“Where’d ya go, mate? Looked a li’l lost.”

“I was thinking. Remembering. When I first got my soul, I was so confused and ... I remember meeting a young man named Albus Dumbledore. He wasn’t much older than fifteen or sixteen. He helped me. Took me in, helped me keep my sanity. He had told me he was on summer holiday from a school called Hogwarts.”

“Dumbledore?” the Slytherin asked, trying to hide his disbelief. How could Dumbledore be associated with a killer? It became painfully clear that there was much more to the aged professor than anyone would like to admit. He quickly debated the merits of telling this Angel that the man he had known in youth was now the Headmaster of the school. Finally, his own curiosity won out, and he revealed the information.

“He’s here?!” Angel asked excitedly. When Draco nodded, Angel said, “Okay, take me to him, and I’ll conveniently forget you tossed my Grand-Childe down the hall.”

That sounded like a very good deal to Draco. He thought quickly, and then realized that the Headmaster could only be one place. “The last feast,” he groaned with a sigh.

“What?” Spike asked.

“It’s the last feast before the students leave for summer break. I was supposed to be there ten minutes ago. If Dumbledore’s anywhere, he’s there.”

“Well, then, I suggest that’s where we go,” Angel said, his tone brooking no argument.

However, Draco had long become used to such a tone and was no longer intimidated by it. “Can’t we wait till after?” he half-whined. While he was anxious to know just what this vampire’s connection to his headmaster was, he had rather wanted to keep this his secret. If this was truly Dumbledore’s long-lost friend, or if Dumbledore had been fooling them all along and was truly aligned with the darkness, he wanted to be the one to discover and reveal it. And the less Harry Bloody Potter had to do with it, the better. Draco was sick of that little prat getting all the glory for nearly every damn thing. He was a Malfoy, dammit. His family was made for glory. And it was about time he got some. However, the vampire had a different plan altogether.

“No.” Angel placed his hand on the back of the boy’s neck, squeezing in two points. Although the pressure was light and by no means painful, Draco did exactly what he was expected to: he froze. The boy was unable to understand exactly why, other than this was a clear show of domination. Far be it from him to piss off a vampire any more than he already had. So, when Angel demanded, “We are going to go see my old friend, and we’re going to do it now. Alright?” Draco gave a minute nod, and the vampire released him. The young wizard then turned back in the direction he had originally been going, knowing the two vampires were close behind.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Draco Malfoy’s absence was not lost on Harry Potter, often called the Boy Who Lived. He wondered where the blond Slytherin was, and what no good he was undoubtedly up to. He constantly glanced at the main doors to the Hall, expecting the arrogant young man to glide through them at any moment. He was finally rewarded, but any thoughts he had were stopped dead in their tracks as two men accompanied his long-time enemy.

“Mr. Malfoy, what kept you?” Dumbledore asked.

The young man deigned not to answer. Instead, Draco led the men straight down the center of the Hall, right toward the head table. Harry was surprised to turn and see the Headmaster standing and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Can this be?!” the elder gentleman cried. “Angelus, is that you?!”

“Aye, but I go by just Angel nowadays,” the larger man behind Draco said with a bright smile of his own, a slight Irish brogue lacing his words.

Dumbledore laughed and quickly made his way around the table. Once to the floor he reached to embrace the newcomer. They shared a companionable hug for a moment, and when they pulled apart the old professor stood back to appraise his friend. “You cut your hair,” he mused.

The man called Angel ran his hand through said shorter hair, and chuckled. “Yes. It was a pain trying to make it behave.”

“Also a new style of clothing.”

“Well, gotta go with the flow if I want to survive.”

“Yeah, except where technology is concerned,” the blond man who looked amazingly like an older version of Draco said.

“And who would this be?” Dumbledore asked.

“This, my old friend, is William, Childe of Drusilla, Childe of Angelus, blood of Aurelius.”

“Most people just call me Spike.”

“Ah, is this one of your missed companions you had told me so much about?”

The shock on the man-named-Spike’s face was plain to see. Apparently, Harry figured, having been missed was unexpected. He suddenly wondered what the men’s relationship was.

“Yes, this is my willful Grand-Childe,” Angel said, his pride evident.

“Childe,” Hermione Granger whispered from across the table. “I think that’s vampire talk.”

“What?” Ron Weasley squeaked from beside her.

The girl launched into every little thing she knew about vampires, which, considering who she was, would undoubtedly be quite a bit. But Harry tuned her out as he turned once more to the four people in front of the head table. He contemplated briefly as to why Draco hadn’t taken his seat yet. He stood near the men, feet planted firmly and arms crossed. His face was, unsurprisingly, hard and unreadable. Harry had to wonder how Draco ended up being their escort. Where had they come from, and when did they arrive, and ... how? And why had Draco not yet been told to sit down? Not even Severus Snape made a comment.

If Harry were to be honest, he would admit that he was a touch jealous. He was usually the one privy to all the secrets (well, maybe not all, but most, and that was enough), and though it sometimes made his life hard, he secretly relished the specialness it gave to him. But there was Draco, apparently in-the-know about whoever these men were and why they were there. That irked Harry. A lot.

Dumbledore chuckled. “William, my boy, welcome to Hogwarts. Angelus had told me so much about you when we first met.”

“He ... did?” Spike asked.

“Why, yes. He told me many stories, like ...” He was interrupted by Snape clearing his throat. “Oh, dear, I quite forgot. We can finish this later. Are either of you hungry?”

Spike shrugged. “I could eat.”

The professor looked around, trying to find an empty seat. When he glanced Harry’s way, the Boy Who Lived indicated that there was a seat empty by him. He was curious to learn more about these strangers, and barely heard Ron ask if he had lost his mind by inviting a vampire to sit with them. He had to know this secret. He was pleased when Draco glared at him. He smirked at the Slytherin and nodded slightly. Oh, he would find out whatever was going on, and Draco was now well aware of that. The twitch in his jaw proved it.

Draco turned quickly to regard his own table. With a polite smile, he addressed the Headmaster. “Professor, there is a seat at the Slytherin table as well.”

“Is it alright for you to be apart?” Dumbledore asked.

“Actually, it may be better that way,” Angel said a bit sheepishly.

“Very well. Choose your seats, and help yourselves.” With that, Dumbledore started back around the table to his own seat.

Angel and Spike looked at each other and shrugged in unison. Angel went to the right of the room to sit at the Gryffindor table, while Spike followed a smugly sneering Draco to the Slytherins.

Angel sat down and glanced at his new companions. “I’m Angel,” he said simply, with a small smile.

Harry regarded the man closely. His mahogany eyes matched his chocolate brown hair. His features seemed even, no one thing too big or too small, but all very broad. Of course, that went along with the rest of his frame. Harry’s instincts told him that this man was a good one, vampire or not. He smiled at him and held out his hand, “Harry Potter, Mr. Angel.”

The man took his hand. “Just Angel, if you would.”

“I’m Hermione Granger,” Harry’s friend said from across the table. “And this is Ron Weasley.”

“Welcome,” his best friend said, even if a bit nervously.

“I-I’m Neville Longbottom, Sir,” the small boy next to Harry said.

More introductions were made. “Well, it’s very nice to meet all of you,” Angel said kindly.

“Are you a vampire?” Hermione asked.

Angel blinked in sheer surprise at her. “Uh ...”

“ ‘Mione!“ Harry chided. He then turned to Angel. “Don’t mind her. She’s very blunt.”

“I see that. You’d think after all those years with Cordelia I’d be used to it.” His expression became sad, but he quickly shook his head and smiled once more. “But yes, I’m a vampire. So is my friend.”

Again, Ron made a squeaking noise, and nearly fell backwards off his seat.

Angel chuckled. “You don’t need to worry. I have a soul and have been out of the mass murdering loop for quite some time.”

Hermione seemed to ponder this. “Angelus?”

Harry watched as pain flickered across their guest’s face. “Yes, that was my name.”

“I’ve read about you. You fight against evil now, correct?”

Angel nodded. “Yes. In fact that’s what Spike and I were doing before we ended up here. We had just gotten rid of a few vampires and were on our way to the car, going through the alleys. Then suddenly, we were in a hallway and that Draco kid sent Spike flying.”

Well, that answered that mystery. Apparently, Draco had just been the one lucky enough to stumble upon them after their arrival. Harry was put at ease with the knowledge that his adversary was no more aware of things than Harry was.

“Almost ripped him to shreds, too,” Angel continued. “One thing you don’t do is mess with a vampire’s bloodline.”

Harry partially wished Angel had followed through. “What stopped you?”

“Spike. He reminded me that we’re not like that anymore.”

“But, you were once,” Ron stated.

“A very, very long time ago. But we both have our souls now, and are of the good.”

“Fascinating,” Hermione said, nodding.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“The way you’re glaring daggers at that boy,” Spike murmured close to Draco’s ear, “I’m surprised he’s still breathing.”

Draco shook his head and removed his glare from Harry to look at the vampire. He snorted. “Yeah. He’s the wizarding world’s very own Golden Boy.”

“Ah, stole your thunder, did he?”

Draco chuckled. “Something like that. There’s some great prophecy about him.”

Spike groaned at that, and Draco looked at him, a bit too much concern showing on his face. He noticed his housemates giving him odd looks. He closed his features once again. Luckily, there was no need to ask the reason for Spike’s sudden discomfort.

“Bloody prophecies. I hate the damn things. There’s this one about a souled vampire who gets to become human after many great battles, blah blah blah. Problem being, there are now two souled vamps. Me and the Great Pouf over there.” He gestured to his Grand-Sire while a few others at the Slytherin table giggled at the reference. “Needless to say, we’ve been a bit at odds as to who the prophecy is about.”

“How did you both get souls?” Draco asked, this time ignoring the glances from the others at his table. Dammit, he was curious. Was there a law against that? Besides, if there was even a remote chance that he could discover something that Harry did not know, he was going to find it.

“He was cursed by gypsies for killing their favorite daughter. They did it so he would feel remorse for everyone he’s killed. Bloody well did, too. Sent him running into the night. He came back, but his Sire, Darla, couldn’t accept him, and he couldn’t accept him, so, he ran away again. Didn’t see him for a good century or so. Sucked much, it did. Worst part? Dumb ass gypsies put a cute li’l clause in that curse o’ theirs. See, if he finds even one moment of true happiness, he forgets the burden of his soul and, pfft! Gone.”

Draco stopped and thought a moment. “That makes absolutely no sense,” he said.

“Tell me about it! I mean, if you’re gonna curse someone, you should at least have the sac to make it stick!” The others at the table laughed again.

Draco genuinely smiled at the vampire. “Ever think of becoming a wizard?”

Spike froze for a moment, but it was fleeting, and he set to task rearranging the mashed potatoes on his plate. “Nah, not one for magick, me. Not my thing. But I do have common sense, and I know how idiotic it is to give a vampire the chance to be evil again. And Angel didn’t even know the clause existed until he actually did find true happiness, and lost his soul.”

“So, the vampire that he was came back?” Pansy Parkinson asked.

“Not exactly. When he lost his soul again, he wasn’t the same as the original Angelus. He was somewhat deranged. There was no caring there, no camaraderie. He had one thing on his mind, and one thing only, and it consumed him. The Angelus who taught me how to survive was ... an incredible being. He was smart, cunning, devious, and sometimes downright cruel.”

“Sounds like a Slytherin,” Blaise Zabini remarked from across the table.

Spike looked at Draco, his expression seemingly requesting an explanation. “There are four Houses in Hogwarts,” Draco offered. “The Gryffindors are the courageous heroes, stupidly risking themselves for others. Hufflepuffs are very excitable and you can’t get rid of them, no matter how hard you try. Ravenclaws I have to admit are quite smart, but rather dull in other areas. Now, we Slytherins are just like you described your Angelus.”

“Really? You guys are the Slytherins, right? All of you?” Those at the table nodded. “Where do the ... Gryff-people sit?”

“Angel is sitting with them,” Draco answered.

Spike barked with laughter, and as Draco looked he saw the older vampire turn from his conversation with the Boy Who Lived to look quizzically at his Grand-Childe. Spike waved a hand in dismissal, apparently telling his companion that everything was all right, and Angel turned back to a seemingly rapt audience.

“What’s so funny?” Draco asked, trying not to get caught up in the man’s laughter.

“I just think it’s hilarious that we instinctively sat with Houses that match us!”

Draco did laugh at that, but suddenly a question came to mind. “How can you two be friends then? I mean, we can’t stand Gryffindors, and they likewise can’t stand us. Yet, you two, who have the same traits, seem to get along.”

Spike chuckled. “Not always, mate. We argue a lot. Heck, we just discovered earlier that we only get along when fighting other demons. But despite that, and the fact that we’ve tried to kill each other several times, there’s no true hate there. He is my Grand-Sire and took care of me when my actual Sire couldn’t. She was quite insane and could hardly care for herself. Angelus taught me everything I needed to know. How to hunt, how to fight, how to survive. And in his own twisted, dark way, he cared for me.” His tone had grown wistful, as if he missed those times.

“But, with his soul didn’t he change?” Pansy asked.

“Your Sire is your Sire. The bond will always be there, no matter what. I’m not the same either, but I am forever his Grand-Childe, and he my Grand-Sire. He and I now work together, for lack of a better term. And I have to say that this is the best it’s been since he first got his soul back.” He glanced at his Grand-Sire and a somewhat desirous look flashed across his face briefly.

Draco quirked an eyebrow at that. He didn’t know much of vampires, but he had heard that their relations with each other were often quite ... sexual. “So, you’re not as close as you’d like to be, eh?” he whispered. He had not expected the vampire beside him to hear.

“Yes,” Spike murmured softly. “That’s it exactly.” He then gave Draco a look that let him know that line of conversation was now closed. Draco nodded in assent. He was quite content with the knowledge that what he had just learned was something Harry would never discover. Pleased with himself, he set back to eating.

The rest of the meal went quietly, and Draco mulled over everything he had learned since he had run into Angel in the hallway. He wondered how long the newcomers were going to be staying. If they were going to hang around, the coming summer may not be boring as he had originally feared.
TO MY REVIEWERS
You-Know-Who & Just Me – Put yer names next time, ya weenies! :P (Don't worry folks, that was just Sora-chan and Aimee-chan [respectively] giving me a hard time.)

Dassani & moony_reader – I'm not saying one way or another who's being paired with who. I PROMISE you things are going to be very ... educational. I'm glad you both like it, as this is my first time bringing a story to the mass public, so to speak. Of course, you may end up hating me somewhere down the line. :::innocent grin::: And Dassani, I added you to my email, and I'll let you know when I update.
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Draco Malfoy & the House of Seraphim