[fic] come back to me (1/?)
title: come back to me
fandom: BtVS/HP
characters: Dawn Summers/Ginny Weasely; the Scoobies; alt!Trio
word count: ~3600
summary: Dawn goes back in time to Hogwarts, following a mysterious letter from herself
a/n: I fully blame happyg_rl for this. otherwise known as my brat sister. otherwise known my soulmate and love of my life. this is all her fault. someone should help me find a suitable punishment for her.
[[ao3]]
[behind the cut there lies sass]“And you didn’t think this was something important enough to mention before?”
“Well… you’re all so American.”
“Giles.”
“Usually they keep to themselves and it isn’t a problem.”
“There’s nothing in that statement that is true.”
“We had a Hellmouth to deal with.”
“Which would have been a lot easier had I known about this international coalition of wizards.”
“That’s not exactly-“
“Will, what do we have on this Moldy guy anyway?”
“Voldemo-“
“You really shouldn’t say the Dark Lord’s name.”
“Is this another Dracula thing?”
“Hey if even the Master… er… if even old Dracula is freaked out by this guy, I think it’s safe to say any superstition about his name-“
“Does this mean that Dracula called you last night?”
“Um… actually…”
“We should really move along with your information, Willow.”
“Giles stop cleaning your glasses like that. Someone spill the beans, is Dracula actually here?”
“What? I sooo didn’t get to meet him last time!”
“No.”
“Buffy!”
“I said no Dawn. No little sister meeting of the Dracula.”
“Is this relevant?”
“Oh this is so relevant.”
“Dawn this is not relevant - let Will talk.”
“As I was saying - the wizarding world… um… Xander?”
“Oh I’m so sorry to intrude!”
“Dracula! My man, my friend, my man friend. Buddy of mine. Whatcha doin down here?”
“Well I was hungry…”
“Buffy put the stake away!”
“What? I didn’t do anything. Yet.”
“Yet.”
“….”
“I was hungry and you appear to be out of Fruit Loops?”
“Oh… hehe…”
“Mr. Dracula um sir? There’s another box in the kitchen just to your left?”
“My sincerest apologies for interrupting your meeting.”
“Just as long as you don’t kill anyone, I won’t have to kill you.”
“The pleasure is of course all mine as usual, Miss Summers.”
“Was he-”
“Shh!”
“So - ahem - apparently this wizarding world has a lot of problems with evil wizards-“
“THAT WAS DRACULA IN A BATHROBE!”
“Dawn!”
“Sorry for interrupting Will - but really who can concentrate after that?”
“I certainly can.”
“Then why are you cleaning your glasses again?”
Dawn grimaced down at the quill in her hand. Willow’s debriefing mentioned bits about Hogwarts being beyond modern technology and obviously her phone was taken from her by the strange red-haired man that pulled her out of the fireplace three days previous. (With a little too much glee in her opinion.) And obviously it wouldn’t work in 1998 - but being without it made her feel a little naked, a little exposed, as if that final link was her last lingering sign that she’d get back to her life someday.
As if landing in a terrorist-run wizarding school in the midst of a war ten years out of her own timestream with no way to contact the outside world wasn’t enough, she was also having to convince a room full of wizards that she knew how to handle a quill.
“Problem Miss Summers?”
The hair on the back of her neck stands up on end as she grits her teeth and maybe grips the quill a little too roughly, forcing it into the parchment. “No problem, Professor Snape.”
His lips twitch and she resists the urge to laugh in his face. Who the hell does this guy think he is, anyway? A grown man lording his strength over a bunch of terrified teenagers.
A grown man who is supposed to be your ally if you just don’t make a mess of things.
There was very little explanation in the note sent forward in time by future-Dawn… past-Dawn? (Andrew tried to explain time-travel to Dawn only a few days before, but she hadn’t been paying attention and anyway it felt like eons ago that they were all together teasing Xander about Dracula’s bathrobe and examining the note that a version of Dawn had sent through time to call herself to a war they had no knowledge of.
A note that had merely said: “Come to Hogwarts 1998 - the war needs you. (ps- pack oreos, mac and cheese, and that toothpaste you like. Oh! and don’t kill Snape. Just… trust me.)”
Well… Giles had known about the war. Had heard the rumblings as he left England for Sunnydale. Had lived through the first one - although the Watcher’s Council had apparently shut their doors the first time and pretending as if nothing was wrong.
Dawn had sat beside Willow as they read through the Council’s records of the first rise of the Death Eaters. The number of deaths wasn’t the hard part. It was the ages of the victims.
Teenagers.
Not much had changed, apparently.
“And you really never felt the need to tell me about this, really?”
“Buffy, I had assumed that it was a British problem. And if you recall - with the Master and Angelus, we had our hands full in those first couple of years.”
“We always have our hands full, but that doesn’t mean-”
“You’re telling me you would have cared about a bunch of stodgy British people fighting a man with a ridiculous name.”
“Well… maybe not.”
“It’s just… Giles, Buffy is right. You even took me to England and still didn’t tell us that there was a magical political climate to be worried about.”
“Most of my contacts went underground…”
“And it didn’t seem weird that they never resurfaced?”
Dawn swore under her breath as the quill dripped large spots of black ink all over her robe and parchment. A nice, American curse. She heard a few Hufflepuff boys giggling somewhere behind her. And Snape was surely still standing only a couple feet away from her, ready to take points away from her house or make another disparaging comment about the American magical school system.
(Of which there was none, actually. Europe was holding onto their castles and schools and magical families with a death grip - that was killing them all - while North America had all but disbanded the old system, sending their children to Muggle schools and incorporating a more modern educational system. As far as Giles could figure, there really wasn’t even a central magical government … mostly due to a general lack of interest.)
Dawn pulled her wand out of her robe and started to murmur over the ink blots. The girl next to her with the brilliant blonde hair and distracted expression kicked a warning under the desks, but Dawn ignored it.
It took an obscenely long time to find the right wand. Though the red-haired man with the goofy smile and curious eyes only smiled when she made the remark. The storekeeper found nothing odd about it in general - the amount of time it took, that is. He was far more fascinated in the wand itself. An apparently bizarre blend - hazel wood twisted with a large rose vine, the core made from Cyprus and dragon heartstring. It was odd looking. While the other wands she saw all seemed to be polished tools, hers looked like a crooked vine someone had picked up at an abandoned lot. Twisted and gnarled, there were jagged edges that seemed almost as if the rose vine was not convinced it was dead and threatened to shoot out buds at any moment. It was odd, but it fit her like a glove.
Xander had tried to explain his phantom eye once; how sometimes he would forget and almost feel the other rolling around just as it always had. She had shuddered at the imagery, hoping never to be in a position of experiencing a phantom limb.
Getting her wand seemed like the absolute reverse of that. It was like walking around with only one arm, never knowing the difference, and then someone hands you a second arm. It should have been there all along, right in the pocket of her jeans, or tucked into her boot, but now it was just new. She loved that it was quirky and weird, that it seemed haphazardly put together, like it might split apart any moment.
And it fit.
In a second, the ink splotches were gone and Dawn’s feathered quill was replaced with a calligraphy pen - the kind she was accustomed to using when dictating Ancient Texts for Giles back in Sunnydale. Back before the apocalypse.
She spun the pen around in her fingers with a satisfied smile and shoved her wand back into the top of her boot. Dawn could sense the girl next to her tensing, expecting Snape to comment probably. Or punish her. Things at this school were scary - even for those used to it - and really she shouldn’t have pushed it that way, using magic against school policy and all.
The pen slid over the parchment smoothly, revealing her perfect penmanship. She smiled and started to tap her feet happily.
Above her head, Snape sniffed derisively and moved on.
The blonde next to her let out a sigh of relief.
Five minutes later, as she stuffed her books into her worn, vintage bag, Snape called to her from his desk at the front of the room. The blonde reached out and squeezed her hand with a worried expression, but Dawn just smiled at her recklessly and moved towards the Professor with a flip of her hair.
He waited until the room was clear, scanning her appearance with his eyes disapprovingly as her classmates scurried off to the main hall for lunch. Dawn met his eye the whole time, never shrinking - as she was sure he was accustomed to students doing.
She was fully aware that the dress code had been completely lost on her. Typically, Muggle style never breached the front gates of Hogwarts. The majority of the students knew nothing of Muggle culture or style really - kept buried in the wizarding world. The minority of Muggle-born wizards were basically scholarship kids, hard-working, not wanting to stand out. They blended as best they could.
Though from what she had gathered, that minority had shrunk drastically with the rise of Voldemort and the death of the old headmaster, Dumbledore. “Mudbloods” and Muggle-born students for the most part had just not come to school that year out of fear.
Dawn smirked. If that’s how they wanted to play, she’d play.
Her robe was too short, she knew that. She did it intentionally. Colorful leggings tucked into combat boots peeked out from beneath the edge of the dark robe she wore that day. Her vintage bookbag with worn patches of long-since forgotten London bands, the glitter on her eyelids, the bright nailpolish, the barest hint of cleavage from the gap in her cardigan, her long hair loose and flowing. She was a bright, American sore thumb poking out amidst the cookie-cutter wizards around her.
“Just make sure you try to fit in.”
“Giles! What are you saying? If she wants to find this Army or whatever, shouldn’t she be a bit of a rebel?”
“There are no remaining records - there’s a time paradox…”
“Giles not with the t-i-e-m p-a-r-d-o-x, we just got Andrew settled down.”
“Xander were you trying to spell time paradox?”
“WHY would you say it out loud?! We had a deal!”
“Anyway, Dawnie - I say be a rebel to start and then wait.”
“If she’s too much of a rebel, she could get hurt.”
“Just play the ignorant American card - what can they do?”
“A lot. Listen to me closely Dawn, you are walking into a dangerous situation and you need to tread delicately.”
“Giles. Last year a demon king tried to dance the town into hell and make me his queen. I think I can handle a few wizards with delusions of grandeur.”
“Just… be careful.”
“Miss Summers…” Snape’s black eyes bored into her and she stared back fiercely. This was it, this was the moment when she’d know if she’d gone too far. It seemed comical that she was fighting a war the way normal kids dance with the rules - but at this school the dress code was the line between possible safety and sure torture.
She didn’t flinch or fidget or adjust her bag, just stared calmly back at him, never breaking her gaze.
Snape finally broke eye contact, looking down at some papers on his desk as though he wasn’t waiting all that time for her to break first. She nearly laughed.
“Miss Summers where did you say you were from?”
“The Council should have sent over my paperwork with an owl last week. I’m from California,” she paused. “But you knew that.”
Snape ignored her, “And you’ve had no magical training up until this point, it is clear.”
Dawn laughed, “When you’re an orphan living on the State, no one really notices if you have magical talents.”
Snape’s head snapped up, “But the Council found you?”
“Isn’t that their job?” Dawn sighed as if Snape was the most inane person she had ever met, slowing down her speech for a moment to explain. “The Council finds girls - has records - of the Slayer line and other magical influences. I slipped through the cracks because they thought I died with my parents. I didn’t. They found me. Now I’m here.” She shrugged. “Honestly I’d rather be back in L.A - but I don’t actually have a choice.”
“I find it … odd… that the Council would send one of their protégé’s into Hogwarts… at a time like this.”
Dawn sighed, bored. “The Council really doesn’t care. They want me here just for the year and then I guess I start Watcher training. Fine. Whatever. Right? Anyway, they said the last headmaster died or whatever and that you were in charge now. And… something about some political mumbo jumbo going on. It sounded pretty boring so I really didn’t pay attention.”
“You mean like a racial cleansing?”
“Exactly like. Voldemort and his followers exist on a platform of magical purity. But even the old families are not exempt from criticism. The Death Eaters follow him unquestioningly. Even after all of this time, believing he was dead.”
“So his plan is to kill everyone?”
“His plan is to kill anyone who gets in his way. Magical or no.”
“The hum-er the Muggle death toll in the last war was pretty substantial. I’m amazed at how the Ministry was able to cover it all up.”
“No one is exempt from this. No one. Even his most trusted followers are under suspect. He wants power completely.”
“And the only thing that can stop him is a teenage boy?”
“The only thing stopping vampires is one teenage girl.”
“Excuse me, past tense please? The only thing once stopping vampires was one teenage girl.”
“But what am I supposed to do?”
“You find the Dark Lord boring?” Snape’s mouth twitched.
“Politics honestly just don’t interest me.”
“Well - you’ll do well to keep away from those who are.”
“Whatever. Can I go to lunch now?”
Snape waved his hand at her and turned away.
She would have danced out the door had she not been sure he was watching.
A few feet down the hallway a hand reached out and pulled her into what appeared to be a solid wall - but she slipped through it into a small hidey-hole behind a large sculpture. The blonde from her house was there, her eyes wide and her hair frazzled. She seemed a little off-kilter, but nice. From what Dawn could pick up in the dorm rooms, the blonde didn’t have very many friends.
“What did he say?” her voice was a shallow whisper.
Dawn shrugged, “Nothing much. Grilled me a little on why I’m here. Told me to stay away from political debates.”
The girl spun around, her hair whipping Dawn in the face. “Oh good! I was so worried. Um… sorry for grabbing you.”
“No - it’s okay,” Dawn laughed.
“Want to… I mean… should we?”
“Hey! Mind having lunch with me? Being the new kid is hard enough - but being the new American kid has been brutal the past couple of days. I could really use a buddy.”
Dawn was sure the girl would explode on the spot with happiness.
“Remember the first day of sophomore year?”
“Willow and the softer side of Sunnydale, I’ll never forget.”
“Xander pass the bottle…”
“Remember how I thought you wanted me to move when you sat down?”
“Remember the dead guy?!”
“Remember going to the Bronze?”
“Remember telling me to seize the moment?”
“Because tomorrow you might be dead!”
“Can we be sixteen again?”
“No way - far too less booze.”
“Spike stop hogging the booze!”
“Remember thinking I wanted you to tutor me?”
“Poor baby Willow had no friends.”
“Hey! What about me?”
“Boys are gross, Xander.”
“Are you hearing this Spike?”
“Oh I am not involved in this.”
“Eating lunch together is a time honored high school girl tradition.”
“It means your committed.”
“I can’t even commit to a favorite flavor of doughnut.”
“Dude. Do you want to be kicked out of this party?”
“This isn’t a party, this is a bottle of booze on the floor with Monopoly.”
“I thought we were playing Clue.”
“Hey Dawn? What are you still doing up?”
Dawn trailed after the blonde girl - Luna, apparently - who chattered on and on about magical this and nargles that, trying to remember the way back from the classroom to the main hall - but she was lost within seconds. In the hall, Ginny started to move towards her customary seat at the Ravenclaw table - generally she was alone, but she knew enough to sit with her own house.
“No!” Luna hissed at her, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the other side of the table - right up to a group of Gryffindors and shoving her down hard right in the middle of them.
In the last four days of being a wizard, Dawn had learned one thing: she was decidedly not a Gryffindor. (Though the Sorting Hat had teased her about it when she arrived.) Gryffindor was a house for Buffy and Cordelia and maybe Angel. She could swing a sword and dust a vamp as good as any of the Potentials could (before they were awakened), but she was much better at decoding Ancient texts and interpreting riddles in dead languages than battle-planning. She was ready to walk into battle at Buffy’s back - but not to lead the cavalry herself. Gryffindor House was a huge conglomerate of Buffy.
Luna squeezed in beside her, squishing Dawn up against a smallish girl with bright red hair and a pale face. At one time she probably was very cute, with freckles sprinkling her nose and charming brown eyes, but now there were large shadows under her eyes, her face was so pale even her freckles seemed an unnatural shade of white, her lips were chapped, she looked exhausted and wrung-out.
Lena leaned over Dawn’s lap and grabbed the girl’s hand, “No word?”
Tears hovered on the girl’s eyelashes, but she blinked them away fiercely, shaking her head and smiling. A tall boy on the other side of her put his arm around her and said to the group, “No news is good news.”
Dawn noted a bit of parchment in the girl’s hand scribbled with notes that she hid away quickly.
The group broke apart, a few girls trying to hide their tears, everyone looking worried and anxious.
Luna busied herself with serving the last of them - just the tall boy, the pale girl, Luna, and Dawn were left together. Luna whispered to her, “They get suspicious of large groups, we can usually gather for a minute or two between classes and things, but probably not for long.”
“Luna,” there was a soft warning in the red-haired girl’s voice, “So … Dawn, right? You’re American?”
Dawn laughed, “Is it that obvious?”
“I’m Ginny,” the girl said, wrinkling her nose. “This is Neville and you know Luna. Sorry about seeming rude, it’s not so much that you’re obvious…”
“It’s just that I’m obviously trying to be noticed.”
It wasn’t a joke, but she kept her tone light. Ginny narrowed her eyes at her as she laughed back, nudging Neville - who was staring out into nothing. “Well that’s what we expect from American wizards around here.”
Dawn shrugged, “Well the Watcher’s Council sent me here, so it’s not like I can get kicked out.” She shoved some food into her mouth, not even looking at what it was before forcing it down.
Ginny giggled, grabbing Dawn’s hand and squeezed a warning, looking over her shoulder carefully, “So do you play Quidditch?”
Under her breath the girl whispered, “I don’t know what you’re on, but keep quiet, alright?”
Luna’s bright voice called over their heads to Neville and the girls ducked their heads to whisper to each other.
“I need your help figuring out why I’m here.”
Dawn pulled a bit of parchment out of her pocket and held it out for Ginny to read.
“Guys? Are we going to discuss the note?”
“The note from you?”
“No the other note that has turned our lives upside down.”
“Seriously Xander?”
“Maybe I missed something!”
“What about it, niblet?”
“It’s just… the second part… that’s not in my handwriting.”
“…”
“An Ally probably.”
“Just find the person with this handwriting - that shouldn’t be hard.”
“What do I do? Blackmail people into writing me love letters?”
“Dawn, this handwriting is obviously female.”
“No shit?”
“I’m sure you’ll find her quickly, Dawnie.”
“But I mean… what do I say when I do?”
“Well probably not anything too obvious.”
“You could start with: Hey I think we are supposed to fall in love but I’ve never been gay before, how about you?”
“Faith…”
“Sorry, B- just trying to lighten the mood.”
Ginny stared at the note in her hand. “This is my handwriting.”
Dawn shifted. “Yeah… I -“
“What is this supposed to mean?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Come to Hogwarts 1998 - the war needs you.
(ps- pack oreos, mac and cheese, and that toothpaste you like.)
(Oh! and don’t kill Snape. Just… trust me.)
I miss you. Come back to me. G
title: there's no room at the round table for people like us
fandom: Veronica Mars
characters: Veronica/Logan/Weevil; Wallace/Mac
word count: ~1000
summary: post-canon polyamory; going into battle with Veronica means....
a/n: written for youcallitwinter because she is a terrible enabler
[[link to ao3]]
fandom: BtVS/HP
characters: Dawn Summers/Ginny Weasely; the Scoobies; alt!Trio
word count: ~3600
summary: Dawn goes back in time to Hogwarts, following a mysterious letter from herself
a/n: I fully blame happyg_rl for this. otherwise known as my brat sister. otherwise known my soulmate and love of my life. this is all her fault. someone should help me find a suitable punishment for her.
[[ao3]]
[behind the cut there lies sass]“And you didn’t think this was something important enough to mention before?”
“Well… you’re all so American.”
“Giles.”
“Usually they keep to themselves and it isn’t a problem.”
“There’s nothing in that statement that is true.”
“We had a Hellmouth to deal with.”
“Which would have been a lot easier had I known about this international coalition of wizards.”
“That’s not exactly-“
“Will, what do we have on this Moldy guy anyway?”
“Voldemo-“
“You really shouldn’t say the Dark Lord’s name.”
“Is this another Dracula thing?”
“Hey if even the Master… er… if even old Dracula is freaked out by this guy, I think it’s safe to say any superstition about his name-“
“Does this mean that Dracula called you last night?”
“Um… actually…”
“We should really move along with your information, Willow.”
“Giles stop cleaning your glasses like that. Someone spill the beans, is Dracula actually here?”
“What? I sooo didn’t get to meet him last time!”
“No.”
“Buffy!”
“I said no Dawn. No little sister meeting of the Dracula.”
“Is this relevant?”
“Oh this is so relevant.”
“Dawn this is not relevant - let Will talk.”
“As I was saying - the wizarding world… um… Xander?”
“Oh I’m so sorry to intrude!”
“Dracula! My man, my friend, my man friend. Buddy of mine. Whatcha doin down here?”
“Well I was hungry…”
“Buffy put the stake away!”
“What? I didn’t do anything. Yet.”
“Yet.”
“….”
“I was hungry and you appear to be out of Fruit Loops?”
“Oh… hehe…”
“Mr. Dracula um sir? There’s another box in the kitchen just to your left?”
“My sincerest apologies for interrupting your meeting.”
“Just as long as you don’t kill anyone, I won’t have to kill you.”
“The pleasure is of course all mine as usual, Miss Summers.”
“Was he-”
“Shh!”
“So - ahem - apparently this wizarding world has a lot of problems with evil wizards-“
“THAT WAS DRACULA IN A BATHROBE!”
“Dawn!”
“Sorry for interrupting Will - but really who can concentrate after that?”
“I certainly can.”
“Then why are you cleaning your glasses again?”
Dawn grimaced down at the quill in her hand. Willow’s debriefing mentioned bits about Hogwarts being beyond modern technology and obviously her phone was taken from her by the strange red-haired man that pulled her out of the fireplace three days previous. (With a little too much glee in her opinion.) And obviously it wouldn’t work in 1998 - but being without it made her feel a little naked, a little exposed, as if that final link was her last lingering sign that she’d get back to her life someday.
As if landing in a terrorist-run wizarding school in the midst of a war ten years out of her own timestream with no way to contact the outside world wasn’t enough, she was also having to convince a room full of wizards that she knew how to handle a quill.
“Problem Miss Summers?”
The hair on the back of her neck stands up on end as she grits her teeth and maybe grips the quill a little too roughly, forcing it into the parchment. “No problem, Professor Snape.”
His lips twitch and she resists the urge to laugh in his face. Who the hell does this guy think he is, anyway? A grown man lording his strength over a bunch of terrified teenagers.
A grown man who is supposed to be your ally if you just don’t make a mess of things.
There was very little explanation in the note sent forward in time by future-Dawn… past-Dawn? (Andrew tried to explain time-travel to Dawn only a few days before, but she hadn’t been paying attention and anyway it felt like eons ago that they were all together teasing Xander about Dracula’s bathrobe and examining the note that a version of Dawn had sent through time to call herself to a war they had no knowledge of.
A note that had merely said: “Come to Hogwarts 1998 - the war needs you. (ps- pack oreos, mac and cheese, and that toothpaste you like. Oh! and don’t kill Snape. Just… trust me.)”
Well… Giles had known about the war. Had heard the rumblings as he left England for Sunnydale. Had lived through the first one - although the Watcher’s Council had apparently shut their doors the first time and pretending as if nothing was wrong.
Dawn had sat beside Willow as they read through the Council’s records of the first rise of the Death Eaters. The number of deaths wasn’t the hard part. It was the ages of the victims.
Teenagers.
Not much had changed, apparently.
“And you really never felt the need to tell me about this, really?”
“Buffy, I had assumed that it was a British problem. And if you recall - with the Master and Angelus, we had our hands full in those first couple of years.”
“We always have our hands full, but that doesn’t mean-”
“You’re telling me you would have cared about a bunch of stodgy British people fighting a man with a ridiculous name.”
“Well… maybe not.”
“It’s just… Giles, Buffy is right. You even took me to England and still didn’t tell us that there was a magical political climate to be worried about.”
“Most of my contacts went underground…”
“And it didn’t seem weird that they never resurfaced?”
Dawn swore under her breath as the quill dripped large spots of black ink all over her robe and parchment. A nice, American curse. She heard a few Hufflepuff boys giggling somewhere behind her. And Snape was surely still standing only a couple feet away from her, ready to take points away from her house or make another disparaging comment about the American magical school system.
(Of which there was none, actually. Europe was holding onto their castles and schools and magical families with a death grip - that was killing them all - while North America had all but disbanded the old system, sending their children to Muggle schools and incorporating a more modern educational system. As far as Giles could figure, there really wasn’t even a central magical government … mostly due to a general lack of interest.)
Dawn pulled her wand out of her robe and started to murmur over the ink blots. The girl next to her with the brilliant blonde hair and distracted expression kicked a warning under the desks, but Dawn ignored it.
It took an obscenely long time to find the right wand. Though the red-haired man with the goofy smile and curious eyes only smiled when she made the remark. The storekeeper found nothing odd about it in general - the amount of time it took, that is. He was far more fascinated in the wand itself. An apparently bizarre blend - hazel wood twisted with a large rose vine, the core made from Cyprus and dragon heartstring. It was odd looking. While the other wands she saw all seemed to be polished tools, hers looked like a crooked vine someone had picked up at an abandoned lot. Twisted and gnarled, there were jagged edges that seemed almost as if the rose vine was not convinced it was dead and threatened to shoot out buds at any moment. It was odd, but it fit her like a glove.
Xander had tried to explain his phantom eye once; how sometimes he would forget and almost feel the other rolling around just as it always had. She had shuddered at the imagery, hoping never to be in a position of experiencing a phantom limb.
Getting her wand seemed like the absolute reverse of that. It was like walking around with only one arm, never knowing the difference, and then someone hands you a second arm. It should have been there all along, right in the pocket of her jeans, or tucked into her boot, but now it was just new. She loved that it was quirky and weird, that it seemed haphazardly put together, like it might split apart any moment.
And it fit.
In a second, the ink splotches were gone and Dawn’s feathered quill was replaced with a calligraphy pen - the kind she was accustomed to using when dictating Ancient Texts for Giles back in Sunnydale. Back before the apocalypse.
She spun the pen around in her fingers with a satisfied smile and shoved her wand back into the top of her boot. Dawn could sense the girl next to her tensing, expecting Snape to comment probably. Or punish her. Things at this school were scary - even for those used to it - and really she shouldn’t have pushed it that way, using magic against school policy and all.
The pen slid over the parchment smoothly, revealing her perfect penmanship. She smiled and started to tap her feet happily.
Above her head, Snape sniffed derisively and moved on.
The blonde next to her let out a sigh of relief.
Five minutes later, as she stuffed her books into her worn, vintage bag, Snape called to her from his desk at the front of the room. The blonde reached out and squeezed her hand with a worried expression, but Dawn just smiled at her recklessly and moved towards the Professor with a flip of her hair.
He waited until the room was clear, scanning her appearance with his eyes disapprovingly as her classmates scurried off to the main hall for lunch. Dawn met his eye the whole time, never shrinking - as she was sure he was accustomed to students doing.
She was fully aware that the dress code had been completely lost on her. Typically, Muggle style never breached the front gates of Hogwarts. The majority of the students knew nothing of Muggle culture or style really - kept buried in the wizarding world. The minority of Muggle-born wizards were basically scholarship kids, hard-working, not wanting to stand out. They blended as best they could.
Though from what she had gathered, that minority had shrunk drastically with the rise of Voldemort and the death of the old headmaster, Dumbledore. “Mudbloods” and Muggle-born students for the most part had just not come to school that year out of fear.
Dawn smirked. If that’s how they wanted to play, she’d play.
Her robe was too short, she knew that. She did it intentionally. Colorful leggings tucked into combat boots peeked out from beneath the edge of the dark robe she wore that day. Her vintage bookbag with worn patches of long-since forgotten London bands, the glitter on her eyelids, the bright nailpolish, the barest hint of cleavage from the gap in her cardigan, her long hair loose and flowing. She was a bright, American sore thumb poking out amidst the cookie-cutter wizards around her.
“Just make sure you try to fit in.”
“Giles! What are you saying? If she wants to find this Army or whatever, shouldn’t she be a bit of a rebel?”
“There are no remaining records - there’s a time paradox…”
“Giles not with the t-i-e-m p-a-r-d-o-x, we just got Andrew settled down.”
“Xander were you trying to spell time paradox?”
“WHY would you say it out loud?! We had a deal!”
“Anyway, Dawnie - I say be a rebel to start and then wait.”
“If she’s too much of a rebel, she could get hurt.”
“Just play the ignorant American card - what can they do?”
“A lot. Listen to me closely Dawn, you are walking into a dangerous situation and you need to tread delicately.”
“Giles. Last year a demon king tried to dance the town into hell and make me his queen. I think I can handle a few wizards with delusions of grandeur.”
“Just… be careful.”
“Miss Summers…” Snape’s black eyes bored into her and she stared back fiercely. This was it, this was the moment when she’d know if she’d gone too far. It seemed comical that she was fighting a war the way normal kids dance with the rules - but at this school the dress code was the line between possible safety and sure torture.
She didn’t flinch or fidget or adjust her bag, just stared calmly back at him, never breaking her gaze.
Snape finally broke eye contact, looking down at some papers on his desk as though he wasn’t waiting all that time for her to break first. She nearly laughed.
“Miss Summers where did you say you were from?”
“The Council should have sent over my paperwork with an owl last week. I’m from California,” she paused. “But you knew that.”
Snape ignored her, “And you’ve had no magical training up until this point, it is clear.”
Dawn laughed, “When you’re an orphan living on the State, no one really notices if you have magical talents.”
Snape’s head snapped up, “But the Council found you?”
“Isn’t that their job?” Dawn sighed as if Snape was the most inane person she had ever met, slowing down her speech for a moment to explain. “The Council finds girls - has records - of the Slayer line and other magical influences. I slipped through the cracks because they thought I died with my parents. I didn’t. They found me. Now I’m here.” She shrugged. “Honestly I’d rather be back in L.A - but I don’t actually have a choice.”
“I find it … odd… that the Council would send one of their protégé’s into Hogwarts… at a time like this.”
Dawn sighed, bored. “The Council really doesn’t care. They want me here just for the year and then I guess I start Watcher training. Fine. Whatever. Right? Anyway, they said the last headmaster died or whatever and that you were in charge now. And… something about some political mumbo jumbo going on. It sounded pretty boring so I really didn’t pay attention.”
“You mean like a racial cleansing?”
“Exactly like. Voldemort and his followers exist on a platform of magical purity. But even the old families are not exempt from criticism. The Death Eaters follow him unquestioningly. Even after all of this time, believing he was dead.”
“So his plan is to kill everyone?”
“His plan is to kill anyone who gets in his way. Magical or no.”
“The hum-er the Muggle death toll in the last war was pretty substantial. I’m amazed at how the Ministry was able to cover it all up.”
“No one is exempt from this. No one. Even his most trusted followers are under suspect. He wants power completely.”
“And the only thing that can stop him is a teenage boy?”
“The only thing stopping vampires is one teenage girl.”
“Excuse me, past tense please? The only thing once stopping vampires was one teenage girl.”
“But what am I supposed to do?”
“You find the Dark Lord boring?” Snape’s mouth twitched.
“Politics honestly just don’t interest me.”
“Well - you’ll do well to keep away from those who are.”
“Whatever. Can I go to lunch now?”
Snape waved his hand at her and turned away.
She would have danced out the door had she not been sure he was watching.
A few feet down the hallway a hand reached out and pulled her into what appeared to be a solid wall - but she slipped through it into a small hidey-hole behind a large sculpture. The blonde from her house was there, her eyes wide and her hair frazzled. She seemed a little off-kilter, but nice. From what Dawn could pick up in the dorm rooms, the blonde didn’t have very many friends.
“What did he say?” her voice was a shallow whisper.
Dawn shrugged, “Nothing much. Grilled me a little on why I’m here. Told me to stay away from political debates.”
The girl spun around, her hair whipping Dawn in the face. “Oh good! I was so worried. Um… sorry for grabbing you.”
“No - it’s okay,” Dawn laughed.
“Want to… I mean… should we?”
“Hey! Mind having lunch with me? Being the new kid is hard enough - but being the new American kid has been brutal the past couple of days. I could really use a buddy.”
Dawn was sure the girl would explode on the spot with happiness.
“Remember the first day of sophomore year?”
“Willow and the softer side of Sunnydale, I’ll never forget.”
“Xander pass the bottle…”
“Remember how I thought you wanted me to move when you sat down?”
“Remember the dead guy?!”
“Remember going to the Bronze?”
“Remember telling me to seize the moment?”
“Because tomorrow you might be dead!”
“Can we be sixteen again?”
“No way - far too less booze.”
“Spike stop hogging the booze!”
“Remember thinking I wanted you to tutor me?”
“Poor baby Willow had no friends.”
“Hey! What about me?”
“Boys are gross, Xander.”
“Are you hearing this Spike?”
“Oh I am not involved in this.”
“Eating lunch together is a time honored high school girl tradition.”
“It means your committed.”
“I can’t even commit to a favorite flavor of doughnut.”
“Dude. Do you want to be kicked out of this party?”
“This isn’t a party, this is a bottle of booze on the floor with Monopoly.”
“I thought we were playing Clue.”
“Hey Dawn? What are you still doing up?”
Dawn trailed after the blonde girl - Luna, apparently - who chattered on and on about magical this and nargles that, trying to remember the way back from the classroom to the main hall - but she was lost within seconds. In the hall, Ginny started to move towards her customary seat at the Ravenclaw table - generally she was alone, but she knew enough to sit with her own house.
“No!” Luna hissed at her, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the other side of the table - right up to a group of Gryffindors and shoving her down hard right in the middle of them.
In the last four days of being a wizard, Dawn had learned one thing: she was decidedly not a Gryffindor. (Though the Sorting Hat had teased her about it when she arrived.) Gryffindor was a house for Buffy and Cordelia and maybe Angel. She could swing a sword and dust a vamp as good as any of the Potentials could (before they were awakened), but she was much better at decoding Ancient texts and interpreting riddles in dead languages than battle-planning. She was ready to walk into battle at Buffy’s back - but not to lead the cavalry herself. Gryffindor House was a huge conglomerate of Buffy.
Luna squeezed in beside her, squishing Dawn up against a smallish girl with bright red hair and a pale face. At one time she probably was very cute, with freckles sprinkling her nose and charming brown eyes, but now there were large shadows under her eyes, her face was so pale even her freckles seemed an unnatural shade of white, her lips were chapped, she looked exhausted and wrung-out.
Lena leaned over Dawn’s lap and grabbed the girl’s hand, “No word?”
Tears hovered on the girl’s eyelashes, but she blinked them away fiercely, shaking her head and smiling. A tall boy on the other side of her put his arm around her and said to the group, “No news is good news.”
Dawn noted a bit of parchment in the girl’s hand scribbled with notes that she hid away quickly.
The group broke apart, a few girls trying to hide their tears, everyone looking worried and anxious.
Luna busied herself with serving the last of them - just the tall boy, the pale girl, Luna, and Dawn were left together. Luna whispered to her, “They get suspicious of large groups, we can usually gather for a minute or two between classes and things, but probably not for long.”
“Luna,” there was a soft warning in the red-haired girl’s voice, “So … Dawn, right? You’re American?”
Dawn laughed, “Is it that obvious?”
“I’m Ginny,” the girl said, wrinkling her nose. “This is Neville and you know Luna. Sorry about seeming rude, it’s not so much that you’re obvious…”
“It’s just that I’m obviously trying to be noticed.”
It wasn’t a joke, but she kept her tone light. Ginny narrowed her eyes at her as she laughed back, nudging Neville - who was staring out into nothing. “Well that’s what we expect from American wizards around here.”
Dawn shrugged, “Well the Watcher’s Council sent me here, so it’s not like I can get kicked out.” She shoved some food into her mouth, not even looking at what it was before forcing it down.
Ginny giggled, grabbing Dawn’s hand and squeezed a warning, looking over her shoulder carefully, “So do you play Quidditch?”
Under her breath the girl whispered, “I don’t know what you’re on, but keep quiet, alright?”
Luna’s bright voice called over their heads to Neville and the girls ducked their heads to whisper to each other.
“I need your help figuring out why I’m here.”
Dawn pulled a bit of parchment out of her pocket and held it out for Ginny to read.
“Guys? Are we going to discuss the note?”
“The note from you?”
“No the other note that has turned our lives upside down.”
“Seriously Xander?”
“Maybe I missed something!”
“What about it, niblet?”
“It’s just… the second part… that’s not in my handwriting.”
“…”
“An Ally probably.”
“Just find the person with this handwriting - that shouldn’t be hard.”
“What do I do? Blackmail people into writing me love letters?”
“Dawn, this handwriting is obviously female.”
“No shit?”
“I’m sure you’ll find her quickly, Dawnie.”
“But I mean… what do I say when I do?”
“Well probably not anything too obvious.”
“You could start with: Hey I think we are supposed to fall in love but I’ve never been gay before, how about you?”
“Faith…”
“Sorry, B- just trying to lighten the mood.”
Ginny stared at the note in her hand. “This is my handwriting.”
Dawn shifted. “Yeah… I -“
“What is this supposed to mean?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Come to Hogwarts 1998 - the war needs you.
(ps- pack oreos, mac and cheese, and that toothpaste you like.)
(Oh! and don’t kill Snape. Just… trust me.)
I miss you. Come back to me. G
title: there's no room at the round table for people like us
fandom: Veronica Mars
characters: Veronica/Logan/Weevil; Wallace/Mac
word count: ~1000
summary: post-canon polyamory; going into battle with Veronica means....
a/n: written for youcallitwinter because she is a terrible enabler
[[link to ao3]]