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A Rock and a Hard Place

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Summary: Buffy and Draco find themselves in an uncomfortable situation courtesy of Lucius. Can they overcome rivalry? Push past prejudice? Get out before they kill one another? Post 'Chosen', post 'HBP' -

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Buffy-Centered > Pairing: Draco MalfoyElleBelleFR1812,594042,4995 Feb 075 Feb 07Yes
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the following characters, respective rights to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ms. Rowling. This is not written for profit of any kind, or for any reason other than for entertainment.

Title: A Rock and a Hard Place

“I’d rather be stuck with the Mudblood.” His voice dripped disdain.

She turned back to him, her expression matching his tone perfectly. “Surprise, surprise: so would I, asshole.”

Well, of course she would. They were friends, weren’t they? Instead of vocalizing his thoughts, he straightened from his impudent slouch on the couch. “Oh, there it is. All it takes is a little bit of stress for ‘Ms. Prim and Proper’ to disappear and the obscenities to start flying.”

She scoffed, not bothering to turn around this time as she began her retort. “Obscenities? Technically, that would be ‘obscenity’” She did turn then, the smile spreading across her lips anything but saccharine, “ but if it’s ‘obscenities’ you want, I’m happy to oblige,” She narrowed her eyes, “you stupid, little shit-faced ferret!!”

His answer was a returning smirk, as he eyed her up and down, making it obvious his findings were lacking. “Technically,” he said, pointedly, “That would be ‘obscenity’, as well.”

“Garrgh!” She spun, and in her frustration, threw her fist at the closest thing…which in this case, happened to be the wall. It went straight through.

She stared at her arm for a moment, buried nearly halfway to her elbow in the thick wood. That was so completely unlike her. She was immediately embarrassed by her lack of control and the outburst of rage. Yeah, she had to deal constantly with pent up anger, and sure, she had to get rid of that energy sometimes…it was just that she’d normally go out and kill something. That probably wasn’t an option here. But once she was out…that was another matter. As she yanked her arm out of the hole she’d made, her mind began to wander.

He couldn’t resist a dig, even upon seeing the glassiness of her eyes. “Yeah, that’s right, Summers, kill the bad wall.”

She growled in frustration and began cursing again under her breath as she paced the small room.

Lucius Malfoy had been released from Azkaban after some drawn out proceedings by his lawyers and a Wizard’s Oath to assist the Order in bringing down Voldemort. Certain rules and stipulations had been put in place to guarantee both his and the Magical Community’s safety in the interim. One of those rules had entailed a limitation spell being placed on his wand, effectively eliminating the possibility to cast most the spells he would wish. Another of the regulations stated that at least two Aurors, or two Order members, need watch over him at all times.

The Slayer and the younger Malfoy had drawn the short straws.

She stopped suddenly, face lit with an epiphany. “Your father? He’s evil.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I agree.”

“No, I mean it –he’s really evil. And, well, I slay evil things, not humans, mind you….but then, technically, you pureblooded wizards considered yourselves a step above and beyond ‘mere humans’, don’t you?”

He stood at the seriousness of her face, the seemingly calm rationalization she’d just spouted off. “Now see here, you’re not going to ‘slay’ my father!”

She took a step toward him, and had she been anyone other than the Slayer, it would have been more comical than threatening. “The hell I’m not, you arrogant ass wipe!”

Switching subjects was probably for the best. “And so we’re back to the language. Summers, I never would have believed you to have such a colorful vocabulary.”

She didn’t need to reply verbally; if pure hatred could be bottled, they’d have to pay royalties to the woman before him.

“Feelings mutual, bitch.”

“Language, language, Malfoy!” She scolded …rather childishly, she noted in retrospect.

“Clever,” He mocked, “though I suppose we’ll have years to perfect our verbal treatment of one another.”

“Reverse psychology? Did you really think that’d work?”

“You tell me”

She grimaced as Lucius Malfoy’s parting words rang through her head. “If I find out there’s some other way around this…“

“It’ll work.”

She glared and continued. “I will personally see to it that your precious, little, perfectly purebred bloodline comes to an abrupt and painful end…which, remember, I will have ample time to make certain of.”

“Duly noted, then.” He responded as he settled back down onto the couch, lacing his hands behind his head and stretching out his legs.

“What are you doing?”

He hated when her face scrunched up like this, complete consternation overtaking her normally halfway decent looking features.

“Nothing. I thought that much was obvious. You’re the one who’s going to be doing the work here.” He would have been frightened of the look she gave him had she not needed him to escape. “We don’t know what all the spell requires. He didn’t mention me having to do anything. We don’t want to have to repeat it all again because we weren’t thorough the first time through, now, do we?

She snorted. “Is the name Malfoy synonymous with perversion?”

He scoffed. “This is one of my father’s kinks, remember, not one of mine. Any fantasy I have involves you no less than a hundred kilometers away from me.”

“That right? Well I say, ‘like father, like son.’”

“And we should all bow down before any wisdom come from Buffy Summers.”

Sure, she wasn’t brainy smart like Willow or Hermione, but she wasn’t dumb; she thought on her feet, she was a warrior…and her feelings were mildly hurt. Sometimes, she didn’t respond best when her feelings were hurt. “Whereas the genius of Draco Malfoy is known far and wide?” She crossed her arms and tossed her head back, gaze set expectantly on the other blonde.

“You’re stalling.” He smirked again. “You’re scared and you’re unsure…and you’re stalling with immature name calling and games.”

“Gee, excellent observation. Maybe we should call you Sherlock?” She sneered; the sheer amount of sarcasm in her voice was enough to make one cringe. She threw her hands up in the air. “What did you expect? A ‘pretty-please’ and a cherry on top? Of course I’m stalling!”

“How about you think of it this way…the sooner you get to it, the sooner we’re out of here.” He schooled his features into that of neutrality, going for helpful and non malevolent.

She had no such qualms.

“How about you shut the hell up or I’ll use the butter-knife on you and take my chances with starvation and insanity?”

“Idle threats, precious. Give me something a bit more convincing.” He stretched back further against the back of the chair, propping his feet up on the table at its end.

An odd smile graced her lips. “You and Faith have never sat down for a one-on-one, have you?”

“The probability of that happening is less than you enjoying the task at hand. That woman is, I regret to say, worse than you. Completely brash, no sophistication, and an atrocious vocabulary…which actually, is about on par with yours this last hour.”

“You’re evil, too,” was her timely reply.

Warning bells were screaming in his head. “That word is completely overused.”

She shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

“Are all you know clichés?”

“Is all you know ‘avoiding the subject’?” She shot back.

“The ‘evil’ subject?” He asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Her eyes were narrowed again. “You wouldn’t even be on our side if you thought your chances were better with Moldywart.”

He curled his lip up, not debating what she’d just accused him of. “What, you going to slay me as well as my father?” Best to just get that question out in the open.

“It was a thought.” She answered slyly.

“You sure do have homicidal tendencies…but I’m sure you already knew that.” He might have been baiting her.

“Duh, Slayer here. Sort of comes with the job description.” Buffy sighed.

“I’m surprised my father didn’t spell the room to lock you in it with himself.” He was definitely baiting her now.

Her glare was equal parts annoyance and confusion. “He wouldn’t have been able to escape if he’d done that, dumb-ass.”

“No, but he would have had opportunity for something I’m sure he’s much more interested in.” He ran his tongue over his full lower lip.

“You’re sick.” She bit out.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Summers…fact remains that my father is sporting a constant erection when it comes to you. Disgusting, really, ‘The Slayer this, and the Slayer that’…even The Dark Lord was beginning to tire of it.” His words were nonchalant, as though he were speaking of the weather rather than the current big bad and co. having a thing for her.

“They…they talked about me?” Something akin to mortification crossed her face.

“In detail. Father, Zabini, Snape.” Her face paled. “Yes, that Snape. You’re a constant source of fantasy for pureblooded patriarchs everywhere, sweets. Reassuring, isn’t it?”

She made an indistinguishable sound, didn’t even bother to correct him on the endearment.’ Shut-up”

“Muggles apparently understand some of the more adverse side affects of breeding solely within the circle of pureblooded families… it limits, how did the Mudblood put it? Oh yes, the ‘gene’ pool. Causes some rather unsavory traits.”


“Yes, very funny.” He allowed humorously. “Anyhow, it is a common practice to procure rather highly evolved magical creatures to invigorate pureblood lines. Slayers and Veela have long been a favored venue.”

“Excuse me?” He eyes were narrowed to deadly slits.

“Knew you wouldn’t like that one.”

“Wouldn’t like? Is that how you interpret my feelings in the matter?” She was suddenly right before the couch, right before him, righteous indignation coloring her face. “Why don’t I let my fists do some translating for you?”

“Piss off and get upset on your own time. It wasn’t even a possibility in this situation. Father was very flummoxed that there was no council to bargain with.”

“You mean the council had done this sort of thing before?”

“Only a few times, Summers.” He smirked once again, “I personally can trace our lineage back through only two or three in the last twenty generations.” He could have nearly laughed at the dumbfounded expression on her face.


“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it …story for another time. And of course, there’s more to my present tale that need be told. When it was better understood the spell the Wiccan cast, the selection opened up quite a bit…but still, all Father could talk about was ‘The Slayer’- The one who had accomplished the impossible. The one who had defeated all enemies who’d come before her, and lured to her bed the likes of Dracula, The Scourge of Europe, William the Bloody, and the Immortal.”

“Lured to my bed? You’ve got to kidding me!” He wondered just how pissed off he could make her today. It was a specialty of his, naturally.

“You know how stories go, precious….we can obviously see the improbabilities of that now.”

“Fuck off, Malfoy!”

“Why don’t you do it for me?”

“Didn’t see that one coming.” She returned snidely. “I guess it’s too much for the ferret to come up with anything resembling originality.” She added as afterthought. “We’ll just have to leave that to your father.”

“You have to admit it was a brilliant spell.”

“Brilliant?” She objected, incredulously, pushing a golden blonde curl behind her ear.

“What else could he be certain of ‘not happening’? What better thing to use against us, when his wand has been jinxed to void all dark spells, than this? Indirect chaos.”

“Where the hell would he get something like that in his head? Its sick and its twisted and...”

“It’s an old pureblooded spell handed down from generation to generation. Millennia after millennia of arranged marriages…obviously, more than a few of them were probably unwanted, right?”

At her slow nod, he continued.

“So the spell was developed to ensure the consummation of the marriage under free will…that is, without use of the Imperius.” He clarified. “This obviously, is a modified version.”


“Yes, modified. He knew ‘Ms. Prude’ would never come off her high horse to fuck a former Death Eater’s son –and since I’m his only son, of course, he doesn’t want the Malfoy name to die here, so he had to modify the end result a bit. Something that he knew you’d break down to do after a while, yet something that would buy him enough time to ensure his escape.”

The elder Malfoy’s words came back to her, a silky laugh that had rang in their ears hours after he took his leave. *”You must take my son …a part of my son resting below the belt, in your mouth, before you may leave the room.”* She shook her head before she had to re-live the rest of it; it only went downhill from that point.

“This is the most disgusting, degrading, repulsive thing I’ve ever contemplated doing in my entire life.”

“You’ve made a career of sleeping with corpses.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

THE most, ever.”

“Then we’ll die a horribly slow and painful death, won’t we?”

She pursed her lips together so tightly they nearly disappeared into a thin line and dropped to her knees in front of him.

The action was quick; he didn’t have time to react. In seconds, she was removing his shoes and socks, none to gently, it might be added.

She spared him one glance and lowered her mouth to his foot, lips pressing chastely against the snow white skin with a flicker of hesitation before she sucked his big toe into her mouth. He watched her squirm ever so slightly as she stilled herself, listening.

He couldn’t resist the urge to reach down and smooth his fingers through her hair.

It wasn’t like she was sucking his cock, but the sensations were much more enjoyable than he had anticipated, both physically and mentally. He had the….not ‘a’ …but ‘The’ Vampire Slayer kneeling before him, sucking his toe. Did wonders ever cease?

“That’s right, Summers, nice and slow, take your time.”

She bit down, hard.

He screamed and yanked his foot back.

She halted as a noise filled the room, a sound oddly reminiscent of air escaping a balloon. Her eyes left the task before her and raised hazel eyes to meet those of stormy gray. She was momentarily stunned by the emotion evident there.

Not good emotion at all.

She’d seen that look before, namely on Spike right before…well, right before bad things happened.

“Was that it?”


She sighed and turned towards the entry. The once solidly locked and hard as cement door opened easily and she grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She quickly closed it again and turned around eyes hard as stone. “If I even think that this has somehow gotten out?” She let the threat hang in the air, left it unfinished but oh so promising.

“Yes, a butter-knife and all that rot ...I heard you the first time.” He snarled.

He passed her and yanked open the door, socks and shoes in his other hand. “Do you honestly think this is a story I’ll be sharing around the bar at night? Do you think it’d earn me points with any crowd? Get over yourself, Summers.” He said derisively and turned to stride imperiously from the room, completely missing her outstretched foot as he did so.

She crouched down next his prone form and smiled tightly. “Just remember I gave you a warning.”

The End.

The End

You have reached the end of "A Rock and a Hard Place". This story is complete.

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