Written for the 2011 LJ Wishlist
Requested By: Immortalbliss
Characters: Harry/Hermione, Buffy/Spike
Prompt: At a dinner party. Butter beer and “Beer Bad” mentioned.
Disclaimer: I don't own HP or BtVS, this was written purely for enjoyment.Infamy
Buffy gazed at the little floating lights around the room in awe. This place was just… magical
. Well, she’d known it would be, because, you know, magic, but this….
She hadn’t been looking forward to this party - insisting Willow was the one that should meet with the magical community, not her. Diplomacy wasn’t exactly her strong suit, after all. But now she felt so glad she’d given in. Everyone she’d met had been really nice, the food was good, the atmosphere was amazing - it was perfect. Except for one thing…
“Will you look at that? Bloody show offs. Your girls are out saving the world and they’re throwing dinner parties with poncy lights floating about.”
“I think they’re nice,” she answered, jaw tight.
Spike had been like this since they arrived. Overly supportive in a pessimistic, passive aggressive kind of way. He’d insisted on going along with her - “backup” he’d said. She’d been happy at the time, but now she was fighting not to punch him in his bleached head and hide his unconscious body behind a potted plant.
“I’m going to get something to drink,” she said, pushing away from the wall they’d been leaning on and heading to the right. When she heard Spike start to follow, she turned around and shook her head. “No, no, you stay here. I don’t need an escort everywhere. I’m a big girl.”
Spike opened his mouth to argue, but she was off again, slipping through the crowed and away from her vampire escort before she caused a scene and staked him or something. She was away from Spike only about fifteen seconds when she started feeling better, the sights around her pushing out her annoyance. The little lights zoomed around her, playful now that she was away from Spike. His bad attitude had probably been tainting the air around him… As one zipped down to playfully tug at a strand of hair, she was shocked to see they had little translucent, fairy-like bodies.
She smiled and nodded as she slipped between talking groups, ignoring the way their eyes followed her curiously. According to the ambassador from the wizarding world that met with her before the party, this was the first time a Slayer and the magical community had interacted with each other in over a millennia. Something Buffy thought was pretty stupid and was glad to try and remedy.
Wonderful smells drifted through the air, reminding her of good times just on the edge of her memory, but unreachable right then. She took a deep breath as she closed in on the bar - it wasn’t very often that something triggered good
memories for her, after all. She reached an open section at the same time as someone else. He looked down at her and offered a smile.
"Are you having a nice time, Miss Summers?”
“Harry, right?” Buffy asked, trying to remember the guy with the glasses she’d been introduced to earlier. The only reason he stuck out in her mind was because people seemed to be staring at him just as much as they were her, if not more. Well, that and he was the Ambassador’s date. “And please, call me Buffy.”
“Buffy, then, are you having a nice time?” He asked with a hint of teasing.
“Definitely. This is just… Well, a little overwhelming. But in a good way,” she said, smiling and taking in the sight of the room again.
He laughed a little. “I know the feeling. I was twelve the first time I saw any of this. I thought I was dreaming.”
“Oh, I thought most wizards,” she said the word slowly, unfamiliar with using it in an actual conversation. “Were raised in all this?”
“Most are. My parents died when I was young though, I went to live with my aunt and uncle, who were about as un-magical as a person can get.”
Buffy cringed. “Sorry about your parents.”
Harry gave a sad smile and nodded, then motioned to the bar. “Have you tried the butter beer yet?”
“Butter beer? That sounds… disgusting.”
After a burst of surprised laughter, he shook his head. “I suppose it does. But it’s actually very good. Can I get you one?”
“Please,” she said with a nod.
Harry signaled the bartender and had their bottles within about ten seconds. She wondered if he was someone important or if it was just because he’d come to the party with the Ambassador. She was about to ask, but took a sip from her bottle first, instantly becoming distracted from anything but the yummy, buttery goodness in her mouth.
not disgusting,” she said, wide eyed as she took another sip and let it roll over her tongue slowly.
Harry smiled at her, taking a drink from his own bottle.
“You were here with someone when we met, weren’t you?” He asked, resting his drink on the bar.
“Yep, I’m with-”
She looked over at Spike to point him out, and saw that he was leaning against a pillar, using tiny meatballs to knock the fairly lights out of the air. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“No one. I’m not here with anyone.”
Harry had followed her gaze though and choked out a laugh. “He seems… charming.”
“Shut up,” she muttered with a good natured half-smile. “What about you? Weren’t you here with the Ambassador?”
“Hermione,” he said with a nod. “Yes, she’s right over-”
He stopped and Buffy followed his gaze to find the woman she’d met with standing with one bare foot, trying to shove a plate at a little elf looking thing with a sock poorly concealed under it.
He sighed and turned away from the sight. “Never mind.”
Buffy looked from Spike’s idiocy, to Hermione’s craziness and then to her bottle.
“So, does this butter beer stuff have any actual alcohol in it?”
“Not that I’m aware of, no.”
“I need something stronger…” She muttered, looking over the bottles behind the bar.
“I think we need that,” he said, motioning to the bartender again. Seconds later they had a bottle with flames dancing up the side and two shot glasses.
Harry poured the drinks, but before taking them they looked first at Spike - whose war against the lights had turned ugly, leaving him ducking, swatting and cursing as they dive-bombed him - then to Hermione, who had put her sock inside a sandwich and was trying to hand it off to a new elf.
“To our dates,” Harry said, holding up his glass. Buffy could drink to that.*******
Hermione huffed and spun away from the disapproving gaze of her boss, Madame Bones. Apparently the Minister wasn’t pleased by Hermione’s attempt to free her house elves. She couldn’t believe they’d actually gone and told on her! She’d just been trying to help.
As she marched away, a little lopsided since her left shoe was still off, she caught sight of the Slayer’s date being attacked by fairy lights.
“For the love of-”
She hurried toward the mess, flustered at the fact that she’d let her guests get assaulted by decorations. As the Ambassador to the Muggle world, they were her responsibility for the night. This project, uniting the Council of Watchers and the Slayer with the magical community, was her baby. She’d be damned if some rogue lights would mess this up for her.
She zapped them out of the air as soon as she was close enough, leaving the blond who was strangely named, Spike, to straighten up from his defensive position with an embarrassed look.
“I’m so sorry,” she gushed. “They don’t usually act like that, I don’t know what got into them. Are you all right? Anything I can get you?”
“Nah, I’m fine,” he said with a wave of his hand. “They were just persistent little buggers.”
“Again, I’m so, so sorry,” she insisted with a mental note to kick the arse of whoever made aggressive decorations. “So, uh, other than the mishap with the lights, is everything going all right?”
“It’s fine,” he said, looking around the room in disinterest. “Buffy seems to like it, at least.”
Hermione felt a moment of elation. The Slayer was having a good time! She’d been really worried before she’d met Buffy, thinking a Slayer would be uncivilized and brutal. But Buffy was remarkably charming and not at all what she’d expected. She’d been worried someone that spent most of her time fighting evil would find a dinner party boring, so to hear she was enjoying herself was a huge weight of Hermione’s shoulders.
“That’s good,” she smiled, looking around. “Where is she?”
Spikes eyes had narrowed and focused on something behind her.
“I believe that’s her over there at the bar - with the bloke you came here with.”
Hermione turned slowly, afraid to know what was going on behind her to put that look on Spikes face. When her eyes landed on Harry and Buffy, she almost groaned out loud.
Buffy was seated on a stool, but her upper body was sprawled out on the bar, cheek pressed to the top as she tried to dribble a shot into her mouth without picking up her head. Harry was on the stool next to her, drawing illuminated curse words in the air with his wand.
“I died once, you know,” Harry said in that loud voice all drunk people have, like the rest of the world has gone hard of hearing.
“I died twice,” Buffy shot back.
“I rode a dragon.”
“I- wait, you rode a dragon? That’s so freakin’ unfair!” She said, peeling her face off the booze soaked bar and swaying dangerously.
“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered, breaking Hermione’s horrified frozen gaze. “I’d better get her out of here before she breaks out the club and drags your bloke off to her cave.”
Hermione hurried after him, making a new mental note to never leave The Chosen Two alone together with an open bar again.