"B" Is For Babbbling
Alphabet Soup"B" Is For Babbling
Disclaimer: I do not own Xander, Harry, or the undescribed demons, which are dead by 200 words, anyway.
Bored, Harry paced his hotel room. Besides being kidnapped four times in three weeks, his vacation thus far had been boring to the extreme. Boring, boring, boring. Berating himself for whining, the young wizard decided to go out and do something constructive. Bungee jumping, perhaps. Barely restraining from rolling his eyes at his own silent sarcasm, Harry grabbed up a few supplies and left the hotel.
Barely half an hour later, he was fighting for his life, having not even made it out of the parking lot. Bloody typical
, he thought furiously to himself, shouting out several curses at the demons surrounding him. Boredom suddenly sounded rather attractive. Before he could get himself killed, however, a voice suddenly shouted in warning.
“Back up and duck, quick!” Brave though Harry was, foolish he was not. Bending over the hood of a car, he fervently hoped that his head was out of the line of fire. Blood the color of chocolate milk suddenly splashed over him when a crossbow bolt impacted with a demon’s egg-shaped head. Belatedly, Harry realized he was wearing his favorite dragonhide boots. Bill Weasley would kill him if he ruined what had been a truly fantastic Christmas gift.
“Boy, what a rush!” Blinking rapidly, Harry watched a young man appear around the other side of the car. Bow and bolts in hand, Harry’s rescuer appeared to be a typical American boy, not much older than he himself, tall, with wide shoulders, shaggy dark brown hair, and laughing eyes the color of liquid chocolate.
Belligerently, Harry stood straight and scowled over at the demon corpses. “Bollocks, why do these things always happen to me?!? Barely here a month on my vacation, and I’ve been kidnapped three times, and attacked by demons twice! Blimey, but I don’t know why I even bother to get out of bed some days,” he moaned.
“British!” the other young man suddenly shouted. Barely restraining himself from smirking, Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at the boy. “Brit- you’re British, I mean,” the tall boy stammered. Babbled, was more like it.
“Blimey, am I?” Harry asked in sudden amusement. “Believe it or not, I’ve known that for a while now.” Boldly, he stuck out his hand. “By the way, my name is Harry Potter. Between the two of us, it is very
nice to be alive to meet you.”
“Blame those idiots for that,” the young man nodded toward the corpses as they shook hands. “But my name’s Xander Harris, hunter and demon-magnet extraordinaire.” Bowing deeply, he flourished his crossbow, an action that caused Harry to laugh.
“Bollocks, there’s two of us, eh?” he asked jokingly, and the two exchanged commiserating looks.
“Boy, do I doubt the world is ready for us,” Xander grinned. “By the way, do you want to join me on my road trip across the states? Because I could really use an extra crossbow, axe, or wand to keep the demons, nutsos, and crazies away. Being a demon-magnet it a full-time job, and I thought, maybe, we could kind of split the costs and double the fun…” Blushing, he trailed off to a stop.
“Babbling seems to be a habit of yours,” Harry grinned. “But why not? Bored as I’ve been, it sounds pretty good. But tell me, what’s your personal record for being kidnapped and/or attacked by the bad guys, just for comparison to my own?”
“Barely twenty altogether in a week and a half,” Xander told him, pride apparent in his voice.
“Blast,” Harry breathed in amazement. “Bloody hell, but we’ll get along fine.”
Word Count: 594