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The Trouble With Familiars

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Summary: Dawn winds up in a pet shop - but not as a customer. She joins Slytherin House - but not as a student. She gets a new family - and is it really a surprise that they're just as protective of her as her last one?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Dawn-CenteredamusewithaviewFR133236,34561401151,17012 May 0715 Feb 10No

Too far

Disclaimer: I own neither BtVS nor Harry Potter (don't I wish). They belong to Joss and JK, respectively, the lucky dogs!

IMPORTANT! THE FOLLOWING IS NOT EDITED, and I'm not entirely sure that I am pleased with the way that it came out... oh well. Also, THIS IS NOT EDITED. REPEAT, NOT EDITED. That is all.

Draco felt distinctly odd. Underlying the rage-fear-pain he felt due to Regina's injury was an odd sort of detachment. He felt like part of him was missing, not the piece of soul that one would expect from the near-death of a Familiar, but a part of his mind. He had thoughts, ideas, and he knew that they ought be connecting into a greater whole, knew that there were things he ought to be putting together (things rather more complex than 2+2=4) but that last step, that ah-ha! finish, was beyond his current mental faculties.

His godfather and the Headmaster were talking, bent over the bed that housed Regina as if closer visual inspection would reveal some basic universal truth. Draco wondered vaguely what it was that they were looking at or for. From his position on the floor all that he could see was a general violet glow, pulsing in time with his heart beat and, presumably, Regina's. What the glow meant, Madame Pomfrey couldn't – or wouldn't – tell him. It terrified him almost as much as seeing Regina broken and bleeding on the ground had. Draco thought that he'd reached his outer limit for fear.

The violet light suddenly exploded. No warning, no extra pulses, it just filled the room to bursting. It reached out to Draco, almost as if it were a tangible thing, growing more solid, somehow heavier the nearer to him it drew. He was lifted and placed gently down almost on top of Regina's hospital bed, his hands forced into the thickest part of the light.

Draco discovered that much like magic, fear has no outer limits.


Severus and Albus could only watch as the violet light suffused the room, moving Draco about as if he were as light as air. They too, were lifted and deposited a further five feet back away from the bed. Winding tendrils of light ensured that their feet stuck fast to the floor. Both men heard a muffled pounding and could only assume that the light – the magic – was blocking Poppy from leaving her supply area.

"Albus, what – what is this?"

"I do not know, my boy." The Headmaster frowned, "It does not seem malevolent."

"No…" Severus replied, drawing the word out, "merely uncontrolled and effecting my godson!"

They could only watch as the light, apparently satisfied with the placement of things, moved on. It condensed, from filling the room to concentrating only on where it held them and the figure in the bed. The light shrouding Regina became so intense, so solid that the men were forced to shut their eyes. Even through their eyelids, Regina was a shining thing, a silhouette that had grown to fill the bed, though the light was obscuring all but the general hominid shape of her.

The brightness died too, and all that was left was a thick purple fog that moved like water but shown like glass. It was opaque and still vividly purple for only a moment, and then it began to change again. A pale green light cut two diagonal slashes through the purple, then spread like water across the entirety of the structure, sliding up Draco's hands where they were encased in the purple light and caressing his wrists gently until he could pull them free. He stared at his own hands for a moment, wondering at the fact that they remained unchanged, before turning his eyes back to the green and purple on the bed. The green light coated the purple like a thin layer of icing, then sank into it, disappearing but for a faint shimmer catching the eye at certain angles.

As soon as the green disappeared, a thick boiling black-red mass seemed to congeal at the center of the purple light. It writhed and twisted violently, sliding back and forth across the purple until suddenly tendrils of violet reached in and began to pull it apart. Unlike the green light, the red did not spread evenly, it seemed concentrated in seven points spread throughout. It was still vaguely spherical, still twisted, but the purple light subsumed it and made it a part of the whole.

Blue-white light began to break through the purple/violet, as if it were a shell. At first in small places, but then larger, and more, and faster, until the purple cracked throughout and shattered, the pieces dissipating in the air. The blue-white corona pulsed twice then sank down onto the bed, drawing in and in and darkening slowly until at last where once there had been light, there was now a body.

Severus stepped forward slowly, drawing up to the bed and gently taking one delicate wrist in his hand. The pulse was strong and slow, but most assuredly there. Once assured that Regina, or whatever had replaced her, was alive, he turned back to the Headmaster.

"More like Merlin's Familiar than Ms. Granger's, eh? Tell me, then, what is that?!"

The Headmaster moved forward and studied the creature on the bed. "I am not entirely sure," he said at last. Meeting Severus's thunderous expression with a twinkling smile, he added, "I am sure it will be a great adventure finding out, though."


"Blaise. Blaise! That's enough." Pansy was proud of herself, her voice was steady and strong, no sign of the cracking she was sure would be there. Her hands had curled into fists, one around her wand and the other around the cloth covering her stomach. Her gag reflex had attempted to act up a few minutes ago, necessitating some quick meditative exercises to get it settled down. What Blaise had done to the two Weasleys showcased his creativity, his anger, and the lessons drilled into him by an ever-revolving myriad of morally shady stepfathers and the cruel mother he so resembled.

The Weaselette was still bound and gagged, a few minor hexes had robbed her of hearing and sight because sometimes not knowing what was going on when you knew that something was going on was the most effective torture. Make no mistake, what Blaise was doing was torture. The boy-Weasel was currently covered in thousands of tiny spiders, a manifestation of his worst fear. They weren't biting him or in any way physically harming him, but their presence and the thin layer of webbing that was slowly encasing him had white showing all the way around his eyes like a frightened horse.

Potter, Granger, and Longbottom looked on with terrified expressions. An implacable anger was growing in the Boy-Who-Lived's eyes and firming the lines of his mouth. Pansy was frightened of and for Blaise at this point. True, he wasn't really harming the two Weasleys, per se, but the look on his face, the unfettered rage was terrible to behold.

"The wind is telling secrets," came a whispering voice behind Pansy. She spun around to be faced with the Lovegood girl, still up to her elbows in the dirt, looking grim. She met Pansy's dark brown eyes with her own misty blue, looking not so misty right now, more serious. "It is done. Tell him! It is done and she is well."

Pansy had no idea what Loony was saying, but something of her urgency communicated itself. She found herself lifting her wand and casting several Finite Incantatem's in rapid succession. Both Weasel and Weaselette lay on the ground, unmoving, while Blaise slowly turned to face her.

"That's enough, Blaise." This time her voice cracked, but not with fear. She was suddenly sad, terribly sad for the child-man in front of her: the boy who didn't remember who he'd first seen dead and the adult he was becoming, filled with so much anger that he could be pushed past caring for the consequences of his actions.

For a moment it seemed that he would try to fight her on this. His fingers twitched around his wand and then he abruptly relaxed into his customary slouch, favoring her with a lopsided grin. "Went a bit overboard, didn't I?"

"Just a bit," Potter spat.

Blaise's eyes hardened, "You and yours have done enough today, Scarface. Kindly shut up."

"We should head up to the castle, see if there's anything we can do," Pansy offered by means of distraction.

"Nothing you can do. It's done. Finished," Luna informed them all brightly.

"What do you mean it's finished?"

The blonde turned her head towards Blaise, expression softening a tad, "Regina is fine now. Right as a rainy dawn..."


Draco stared at his Familiar, because despite her form the connection in his head, heart, and magic still recognized the creature on the bed as being inextricably linked to him. She was no longer a kneazle, which was quite apparent. She looked, in fact, like a girl; a bit younger than he himself was, maybe, but definitely vaguely human-shaped. She was tall and loose-limbed, a human would have been referred to as "coltish" but her length suited her, and there was a sense of overall grace that was missing from those who were half-grown.

Her hair was long, waist-length at least, and the same fawn brown as her kneazle-coat had been. Looked at this way, or that, it had a faint glimmering sheen of purple or green, colors that looked oddly right for her. Her skin was pale, an almost bone white, the faint blue of veins showing through quite clearly where her skin was at its thinnest. All these features could be attributed to odd breeding or glamourie, but the pointed ears and markings that adorned her skin quite clearly marked her as "not human."

Her ears were slightly too high up on her skull, and rose to points that curved ever-so-slightly forwards. On the tips were a few faint blue lines that caught the light, drawing the eye. These lines were echoed elsewhere on her skin, outlining her eyes and in some places providing an outer tracing of the veins. Still others were quite obviously runes, some he recognized, some he didn't, but every sort of ancient or runic script he had ever heard of or seen was represented somewhere on her body.

Madame Pomfrey bustled up, having finally managed to extricate herself from her own office. "Mr. Malfoy, this is highly inappropriate! The young lady is unclothed!" She gripped his arm and attempted to wrest him away from the bed.

Draco laid one hand over hers, gripping firmly, and removed it. "The 'young lady' is my Familiar."

A sharp gasp drew their attention and the Slytherin found himself meeting large, bright blue eyes.


The End?

You have reached the end of "The Trouble With Familiars" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 15 Feb 10.

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