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Volume II: Burn

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This story is No. 2 in the series "Scriptificus Totalus". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: The continuing series posted on livejournal written by 5 authors crossing Buffy and Harry Potter and chronicling the rebuilding of the Watcher's Council in that universe.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > GeneralscriptificusFR18167318,59518307197,3051 Mar 1017 Jul 10Yes

Giles Has a Date

May 1, 2005 7:09 PM


All of her boarders knew to stay away from the kitchen tonight, and Teddy was spending the night with his godfather. Andromeda could tell Harry wanted to say something about her seeing Rupert Giles, but Ginny had likely warned him to mind his own business. He had looked about to speak several times when picking up Teddy for the night then suddenly clammed up with a frustrated look on his face.

She'd gotten fresh bread from the bakery in town before it closed, she'd made simple pasta with a vegetable marinara sauce and a salad to go along. Her meatballs had turned out lop-sided. Andromeda was still debating serving them or not. Everything except the salad was under a warming charm. She untied her apron and went to the bathroom to freshen up.

Giles strolled up to the gate and let himself into the garden. He held a bottle of red in the crook of one arm, and a bouquet of Light Pink and Orange roses in his hand. He mounted the stairs and rang the bell.

Andromeda looked at herself in the mirror one last time and pinched her cheeks for good measure. She rushed to the door then stopped and breathed a moment so it would not seem as if she had rushed to the door.

"Hello, Rupert," she said as she opened the door. "Do come in. We shall be in the kitchen unless that's too informal."

"The kitchen is quite all right. I spend more time there some days than my own office, it seems."

She swallowed her pride as she started placeing things on the table. "Have a look at the meatballs and see if you think them edible. If not, we can skip them. I did not bake the bread. I only cooked pasta and added things to a jar of sauce. Apart from chopping for the salad."

"It all looks lovely," Giles commented, looking things over. He pulled the cover off of the pan in which the Meatballs resided and said, "What is wrong with these meatballs? They look perfectly fine to me."

"In cause you haven't noticed, they're not round. I'm not certain what happened."

But since he did not seem to care, she put them to serve. Andromeda handed him a corkscrew as she pulled two wine glasses from the cabinet.

"That is the mark of a properly made meatball," he replied. "My grandmum used to make them and they looked just like this."

"Well, now I feel marginally better about my limited cooking abilities."

She put helpings of the salad in the bowls she'd set out, but let him choose the amount of pasta he wanted.

"How are things going at work?"

"The same, I suppose. Busy. Truth be told, I wish I had more time for research myself. There are a number of things that require looking into, and not enough watchers to do the looking."

"Yes, Willow did mention at the last coven meeting that Draco has been working rather diligently on the dark mark problem. I think Astoria has been having visions of it; she agreed with Willow before Margaret Edgecombe got her in a snit and she stormed out. She seems to think a human is calling the shots with demon energy. Is that even possible? Do you know anyone who could manage or would manage such a thing?"

Giles' mind went down previously unexplored avenues of thought and he managed to overfill a glass before realizing he'd just made a puddle on Andromeda's countertop. "Me," he said quietly, "For one."

"Well," she replied, raising a brow. "Admit your guilt and swear never to do it again."

He spluttered a bit, as he always did when he was flustered, and finally responded after regaining his composure, "I rather think not. I do now have a few things to check on tomorrow morning." He smiled reassuringly.

"That was a joke, by the way." Andromeda gave him an assessing look. "But do let me know if you need help. Or take Draco if you need fire or Willow or possibly your Buffy."

"Oh, Trust me," he said with grit in his voice. "One of the other possible candidates for this Buffy doesn't like much. She'll want to come along, I'm certain."

"So you might know who it is?" Andromeda asked, shocked.

She had not expected that. Not at all.

"If you need help, again, the coven is always at your disposal, Rupert."

He nodded. "Thank you. I am by no means certain, but I do have a perverse desire that it be one of them so that I can..." he trailed off, realizing what he'd said and was about to say, and continued lamely, "...be very mean to them indeed."

"I think sometimes you forget where I some from. You need not edit you true intentions with me. My elder sister never did. Which reminds me, I have some light reading for you."

She got up quickly and set a text next to him. The Histroy of the Black Family.

"Might explain a lot. You'll definitely be able to deal with Draco if he starts giving you problems. This will also help should my sister visit."

"Yes, I do keep forgetting that. Also, are you referring to Narcissa, or to Bellatrix?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Bella is the eldest, Narcissa the youngest. I should hope Bella won't be visiting. She's locked in Azkaban. Then again, she is a Black. Most of us are escape artists. Narcissa would be the one to worry about currently. Not crazy like Bella. but oh, the temper on that one. Draco takes straight after his mother there. That is a Black family trait. There's a family tapestry that has several names burned off of it due to tempers. Mine included, and I don't even think Nymphadora's name was ever even on it. Aunt Walburga did not approve, you see."

He handed her a glass of wine and placed his down on the counter. "From what I've heard about wizarding politics, you committed the equivalent of high treason. Not that you were wrong, but to be perfectly honest with you, I'm quite surprised that you were only disowned."

"Well, Bellatrix did kill my daughter," Andromeda said mildly.

Her tone was ar war with what she felt when she thought about that. If she ever saw her older sister again, she was not entirely certain both of them would survive.

Giles was silent.

He had not known that.

He had no response for that.

"Andromeda..."

"Let us find a happier subject. I'm sorry I said such a thing. Not that I wished to keep it from you, but I'm ruining what started out as a nice evening. I'm afraid I don't know how to have fun any longer. My conversations always tend to err to the serious side."


"Really. Then I will just have to see if I can remember how, and remind you." He smiled at her, and it was not entirely a kindly one. There was an element of enticement in his eyes.

Andromeda blinked. She did not know quite what to do with that. It was unexpected, not unwelcome, just not entirely expected. It ahd been far too long since such a look was aimed at her.

"I have few doubts about your ability to recall certain things."

"Well, let's see if we can't clear those doubts up." He leaned in.

Andromeda had no idea what he was on about until his lips pressed hers lightly. Her eyes went wide. Also not expected. She was so busy being surprised that she just sat there like a lump with wide eyes.

Giles pulled back. "Too soon?" He asked gently. He managed to keep the mild disappointment he felt out of his voice.

"No," she said a bit too firmly. "No. I'm just... I'm not... oh, I'm just terrible at this. I haven't tried to impress anyone for thirty years. I think I'm bad at it."

She leaned over and kissed him this time.

Rupert Giles' world closed in until he was certain of only one thing.

She was not bad at it.
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