Disclaimer: Rowling made Potter. Whedon made Buffy. Companies own them now. Not me. Don't sue.
Notes: This was intended to be part of a longer fic that never quite gelled. This is the only part that I really like. The inspiration was Dawn laying with the Buffybot in "Bargaining." It reminded me of Harry and the Mirror of Erised, so I decided they needed to talk.
"Harry?" a soft voice came from the doorway.
Harry was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He swallowed hard, "yes?" he said in a forced tone. He really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. It was the first minute of down time he had since all of this had begun. He needed to sort some things out. Normally, he’d talk to someone. Ron and Hermione were his best friends, but they wouldn’t understand. No one would understand.
He turned his head to the side to see who was rudely interrupting his thoughts. It was Dawn, Buffy’s little sister. He hadn’t really spoken to her since the whole "Scooby Gang" had showed up. She was kind of like Ginny Weasley, tagging along behind her older sibling. But Buffy wasn’t with her now and she wondered what Dawn couldn’t want with him. Maybe she was lost...
"I’m sorry," she said. She said it so simply that he felt guilty for not knowing what she was talking about.
"Sorry for what?" he asked.
"Well," she tentatively ventured closer to his four poster bed, "your friends told me. I mean about your parents, Voldemort and how you got that scar. I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, if it’s weird to talk about..."
"It’s all right," he said tonelessly. "Everyone knows."
"Ok..." She blushed prettily. "Let me start again," she said, flustered. "It’s just that I know what must be going through your head right now. See, I know what it’s like." He opened his mouth to stop her, but she wouldn’t let him talk. "I know you don’t think that I know, but I know. See, my sister died to save me too. And for a little while there, a lot shorter time than for you, but for awhile, I was alone too. After Buffy died, I spent every moment trying to think of a way to bring her back or make it so she never died. I don’t know, just find a way so I wouldn’t be alone anymore."
Harry raised his head off the bed too look at her, but he didn’t try to stop her talking. He got the feeling that she couldn’t stop now anyways.
"So when you heard that we brought Buffy back... I know what you’re thinking, ‘if they brought her back, why can’t I bring my parents back?’" He turned his head, trying to avoid her gaze. He only succeeded in proving her theory correct.
"See? I’m sorry. I’m sorry that my sister got to come back and your parents didn’t. But, it really wasn’t the joyous experience it is in your dreams. It was painful, for all of us, but mostly for her. And, it was creepy. I mean, you always wish your family members were alive, but you don’t really wish they’d come back from the dead. ‘Cuz there’s a line there that just should not be crossed --"
"It’s ok," he whispered. "I’m not ok. But it’s ok."
She nodded, in a way he felt like it was acknowledging some sort of deeper understanding "Ok," she said and turned to leave.
"Yeah?" she asked, surprised that he had called out to her again.
"Can you stay? Just for a little while."
She smiled serenely, "Sure." Harry moved over so she could sit next to him on the bed. Dawn glanced around the room, marveling at the spell books that littered the dormitory floor and the moving posters on the wall. The wizarding world sure was interesting.
The was an awkward moment of silence before Harry spoke up again. "Want to see them?" Dawn nodded. He climbed over his bed to the trunk at it’s foot. She watched as he produced a leather bound book from it’s depths. It was the photo album that Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year.
"That’s my mum," said Harry, pointing to a red haired woman who was smiling and waving at her son. She looked so happy. "And that’s my dad," he said, again pointing at the photo. This time, towards a black haired man who looked to be an exact replica of Harry, except he was older.
Harry laughed when she waved back at them. "Well, what are you supposed to do?" she grumbled indignantly. He only continued to chuckle in response. Annoyed, she thought it best to change the subject. She reached into her pocket and produced a photograph that had been battered from being carried around in her pocket everyday for the last few months. "This is my mom. Joyce."
He leaned over to get a closer look. "Is she..."
"Dead?" Dawn asked. Harry nodded. "Yeah. Brain aneurysm."
"Er. I’m sorry."
"It’s ok," she echoed. "I’m not ok. But it’s ok."
There was another moment of silence, both out of respect for the dead and out lacking anything else to say.
"Did Buffy ever tell you what heaven was like?" he asked suddenly.
She shook head. "She doesn’t really want to talk about it. But I know she was happy there."
Harry smiled. "Maybe they know each other."
Dawn giggled. "Yeah they hang out in Heaven’s Coffee house and talk about us." She made a face as she thought of something horrible. "I hope she doesn’t call me Little Pumpkin Belly up there."