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The Third Man

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This story is No. 1 in the series "The Third Man". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: After the battle at Hogwarts Helen, former teacher, leaves England in hope to find some peace, possibly happiness elsewhere. She heads for Sunnydale & meets a handsome British librarian fighting against a different kind of dark forces. Giles/OC-pairing

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Giles-Centered(Recent Donor)AstarteFR1543215,76223521,01823 Feb 127 Feb 14No

Chapter 27: Moments of Happiness - Part 1

Chapter 27

AN: Next part. Anything you recognize belongs to Joss Whedon and the writers of Buffy.
Enjoy and please review.

Moments of happiness – Part I

But before Helen could react in any way, Giles pressed his lips softly on hers. She gave in and wrapped her arms around his neck. Now this was an entirely different sort of a kiss than the one that got interrupted so unholy by George’s arrival. It was more passionate, more... restless and urgent. When their lips finally parted to catch some breath, he looked intensely into her eyes, his were glowing as she had never seen them before. There also was an unspoken question, appeal in them. She turned her head towards upstairs to answer it and watched the corners of his mouth raise into a smile that was hard to place. Then his face turned earnest as he asked yet: “What about your leg? Are you sure-“

“Forget the leg,” she whispered and silenced any further concerns with another kiss.

They hardly made it to the bedroom: In the middle of the staircase she bore him against the wall and began to work on his shirt, he managed to open her black dress on her back.

It came as an electric shockwave to her when his fingers touched her collarbone on both her shoulders, she had to slow the kiss to compose herself again, which he wasn’t making any easier for her. Instead of quickly slipping the black cloth off her shoulders, he kept caressing her soft pale skin on the collar, occasionally slipping his fingers under the fabric as to tease her. It was agonizing in a way she didn’t think was possible. Her own hands were still playing with the upper buttons of his shirt, without achieving much as it seemed impossible for her to concentrate on anything else than the tender, yet electrifying fumbling of his fingers. When she moaned at last in frustration, he finally with a quick movement pulled her dress off her shoulders and the heavy fabric fell easily to the floor, Helen let out a satisfied sigh and Giles sensed her kiss becoming hastier again, more passionate, more hungry, she opened the last button on his shirt at last, only to discover a disappointing undershirt beneath. She whimpered, but promptly began to pull on it to get it out of his trousers. Giles turned slightly to move away from the wall and with a gentle push indicated that they should continue upstairs. Unwillingly she broke off the kiss and pulled away a little and Giles noticed only now, when he looked down at her, that she was wearing a black corset. He forgot to close his mouth in amazement: it looked terribly old fashioned yet shamefully sexy. He has never seen anything like it on a woman, let alone on a woman he himself had undressed. So it was safe to say that he was no expert in these things but even he could tell that this was a piece of art – black satin embroidered with fine black and dark violet lace, and he even spotted a few tiny violet pearls. Its shape made Giles long even more to see what was hiding underneath. She was about to turn towards upstairs when he suddenly grasped her and lifted her to carry her the rest of the way up. Helen was so much taken by surprise, yet before she could take in the exhilarating sensation of being carried in his arms he was already laying her down on his bed and then watching her face for a moment. She was breathless and her eyes were widened. Giles’ on the other hand were slowly wandering over her body from her face downwards, taking in the image that offered itself to him in utter fascination. Helen’s mouth was dry, suddenly she was only too well aware that she was lying on his bed, he – bending over her, his lips slightly parted, a strange look on his face that she again couldn’t quite place, she – not yet entirely exposed, but judging by the sparkles in his eyes he was about to change that very soon.

Giles’ eyes stopped once more at the intriguing corset, only now he realized – to his delight – that the little pearls he had noticed before were actually marking the line in the middle of the piece where one was supposed to open it. This would spare him the often so embarrassing search for the right opening as he wasn’t exactly a man of too much experience with female underwear. And the fact that he could open it at the front, right here beneath him, without having to fumble at her back, that it would immediately expose her breast... He gulped, then he finally dared to raise a hand and as if it was something very fragile and old, and afraid it would powder if he wasn’t careful enough he first merely brushed his fingers over the fine embroidery to make sure it wouldn’t crumble away under his touch, then he laid his both hands on her belly, and his fingers began to explore the curves and the surface of the exquisite lingerie.

Helen gasped at the first brief brush of his hand, again it spread through her whole body like a wave of excitement. And then when she felt his hands fondling all over her waist, she moaned again and grasped with one hand after his opened shirt to pull him closer so that she could kiss him. The touch of his hands, moving up and down her sides, caressing her waist and then wandering just a little bit downwards to fondle the bare skin beneath her hips, and her thighs... it was maddening. And then his fingers would always return to the tiny pearls – the buttons of the corset, each time playing a little bit longer with them.

“May I,” he began whispering when for a moment he broke off the kiss to concentrate now entirely on the opening of the almost last piece of cloth that was keeping him from seeing her whole body in its full beauty for the first time, “may I-uh... just open it?” He mumbled, he didn’t just want to tear it open and he still hasn’t lost his control entirely, nor was all of his shyness gone, so that strangely – and he suspected the old fashioned corset to strengthen the urge – he felt it would be inappropriate to disrobe her without her consent.

Helen felt distracted, lost even for a moment, for not feeling his lips on hers and his tongue, then said quietly: “I wish you would.”

Giles gave her a short, almost a shy smile then returned his focus towards the corset. With each other of the pearl buttons opened, Helen’s heart would beat faster, her breaths would sound a little louder in the room, the heat from the touch overcoming her more intensely. Giles too was getting more excited every time the opening of a next pearl would expose a small strip of her bare skin. By the time he reached the last one his hands were shivering a little, but he wouldn’t open it just yet. He saw her expectant gaze, noticed her chest mount up a bit in anticipation. He bent down again to press a slow, teasing kiss on her lips while his hands were caressing her neck, moving downwards little by little until they reached the line of the corset on her breast. Helen on the other hand was struggling with the belt of his trousers that just seemed to be sealed and would open only if some secret enchantments were spoken. Suddenly she heard a quiet pop-sound and felt the corset loosen around her torso entirely... and then his hands, his warm long gentle fingers were touching the bare skin on her waist for the first time, and it was beyond wonderful. She smiled and gasped at the same time and somehow at the same moment the stubborn belt on Giles’ cord trousers gave in.

She sat up and pushed him aside. “You’re still wearing too much,” she murmured while climbing onto his lap.

“That’s hardly my fault,” he whispered as she bent down now to kiss him. The bulge in his trousers rose yet again as her breasts touched his chest briefly, before she straightened up again to work on the rest of his clothes.

He was watching her glowing face, stroking her knees on both sides of his waist. Her eyes, now almost black, looked as if they were gleaming, little fires burning in them, her lips were quivering, a few curly strings of her brown hair hung loose and added a perfect frame to the beautiful ivory face.

She pulled his undershirt out of his trousers and slipped her hands underneath to stroke possessively over his bare skin. It was fascinating, every time she reached a certain spot on either side of his hips, he would tense just a little bit and get goose-bumps and hold his breath until she moved along. He was ticklish too... she thought and a mischievous smile played upon her lips that didn’t escape him so that he seized her hands just in time and Helen barely realized what was happening when a second later she found herself yet again – though not unhappy about it at all – lying on her back with him kneeling above her. Quickly he took off his shirts and threw it away, then again leant forwards to cover her breasts in soft kisses, slowly moving upwards. Helen had the impression that his fingers were everywhere, stroking her hips and her waist, circling across her belly, then fondling the skin on her neck which for some reason felt the most inebriating, especially when his index finger would draw a gentle line from beneath her earlobe agonizingly slowly down to her collarbone. She was so lost in that touch that the next one took her entirely by surprise: his left hand didn’t leave her neck, but his right hand must have found a way downwards at some point because suddenly Helen sensed his fingers upon her thigh, moving in circles, occasionally fumbling beneath her panties, then sliding down at the inner side of her thigh.

It was too much, she had her eyes closed, hardly able to do anything herself apart from frantically burying her hands in his hair and opening her legs just a little bit more. Soon his left hand joined the other and with his tongue he was tracing the line of her panties on her underbelly. She let out a quiet moan and he took it as a final assent and gently pulled down the last piece of cloth she was wearing, before taking off his own underpants and setting up on her hips as carefully as possible. She stretched out her arms to pull him down into a kiss and murmured some indiscernible words, of which Giles only caught the last one - “... you...”, and when she lifted her hips, he moved to lie between her legs. He looked her in the eyes to find his own burning desire reflected in them...


Moments later they were laying in bed, facing each other, Helen held his face in her hands while his were stroking tenderly the skin up and down her side. On both their faces giddy grins and earnest stern gazes were appearing in turns, both signifying in a way the monumentality of this epic moment of the final fulfilment and how ineffably happy they felt about it. Words weren’t necessary, not even after the second and the third time they had made love that night. Soon after that Giles would simply pull her tighter into his arms and eventually they would fall into a content, dreamless sleep they both hadn’t enjoyed in a long time.

When Helen woke up on the next morning, to her disappointment the rest of the bed next to her was empty. She sighed, then perceived the pleasant smell of breakfast from downstairs and moaned even louder. She crawled out of the bed and her eyes fell on Giles’ shirt that he must have thrown away the previous night. She blushed at the memory the sight had brought back into her mind, then without much thinking she grabbed the shirt and put it on and moved towards the stairs.

“Morning,” he greeted her with a sheepish smile.

“Hey, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast today,” she said half reproachfully as she reached the kitchen.

He gave her an odd, disbelieving look and she knew what he was thinking, the image of the burnt cake from yesterday probably slipped into his mind as well. “Alright,” she murmured, “maybe not.”

“Never mind,” he said and motioned her to follow him out of the kitchen, he was carrying a large tray with two cups, toasts and all sorts of things to make their breakfast quite a feast. He placed it on the coffee table in the living room, then disappeared yet again to fetch some plates, and Helen turned to the record player to put on one of his old records she hasn’t heard yet. Bay City Rollers it is, she muttered with curiously raised eyebrows as she randomly pulled out one of them.

She returned to the sofa, inspecting all the delicious things on the tray, when suddenly she sensed his piercing stare on her and turned around. To her surprise he wasn’t looking into her face, but his eyes were widened a little and fixed somewhere on the lower part of the white shirt she was wearing. She became very aware that she wasn’t wearing anything else as his shirt was long enough to cover all the delicate parts, yet she wondered whether he was just thinking about the same thing now. And when she noticed him swallow dryly, the answer was quite obvious. He laid the plates on the table too, but suddenly breakfast became irrelevant. He walked closer and gently pushed her onto the sofa, then bent down over her, his hands grabbed the shirt on her waist.

“I-uh... believe this-uh... belongs to me,” he said amused.

“Does it?” She asked, though it was more a gasp, as his hands moved upwards to the upper button. It was her now who swallowed. “M-may I borrow it?” She asked nervously, feeling again the pleasant dizziness that his closeness was causing her.

“Uh-uhh, I am not sure how...,” he kissed her shortly, “... I feel... about you...,” another kiss, “... wearing... anything,” he whispered into her ear just as she reached for the belt of his bathrobe... Yes, the breakfast would definitely have to wait.

On her walk home a few hours later Helen was singing and humming to herself all the happy cheesy lovesongs she could remember and now and then she would grin or smile wildly at her passers by or just flush when she recalled some particular detail from the previous night and morning...

With Giles they decided that he would call Buffy and tell her to meet him in the library at 5.30, but it would be her, Helen, who would collect her there and bring her from there to the old factory where he and the rest of the scoobies had meanwhile prepared the surprise party. It occurred to Helen that she had nothing to give to Buffy, but she got an idea.

She was walking the lane towards her house when she spotted the vast sea of flowers and bouquets spread all over her veranda. When she reached her front door she realized it was all red roses, hundreds of them everywhere her eye could see. She smiled confused to herself wondering when Giles managed to arrange this, but then she frowned, thinking that this somehow didn’t look like him. Hesitantly she took the one bouquet that stood closest to the door and looked for a note. And indeed there was a little pink card in the shape of a heart. No, whoever did this, it wasn’t Giles, she thought and opened it.

I’ll give you my heart soon, yours R.

Living on the Hellmouth, having experienced all the bizarre stuff she and the Scoobies had, it was no wonder that the first image that popped into her mind at reading those words was quite gross.

Who the hell is R.?! She was pretty sure it didn’t mean Rupert. She was still staring at the roses in mistrust when the phone inside rang. She opened the door at last and hurried to pick it up.


Someone cleared his throat nervously. “Uh-, Miss-uh... McGregor?” A familiar voice greeted her, yet it sounded a bit odd.

“Principal Snyder,” she replied, getting tensed, her heart sank, she was afraid what might come now, already bracing herself for another assault and a lecture on teacher’s duties and zero absences.

There was silence for a moment, then he again gave this unnatural cough. “I-eh... I just wanted to know when-eh... when we can count on your return,” Helen furrowed her brows. She hated to admit it but she was rather missing the grumpy undertone in his voice, without it there was something alarming about him, something... not right.

“Oh, I should be there on Monday,” she hurried to say.

“Good,” was the short, strange reply, no barking, no nagging, no cursing followed, nothing but an awkward silence.

“Listen, I wanted to say...., I know I’ve been making a lot of absences, but-“, she began, feeling insecure by this unusual behaviour of his.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re back on Monday,” he snapped and Helen sighed almost relieved to hear a trace of the old familiar Snyder.

“I will be,” she reassured him firmly.

“Great. See you,” he muttered and hung up.

Helen frowned at the phone in her hand, then noticed the missed calls on the display. Sixty-seven, and all from the same number that just called her. How very weird, she thought, then shook her head, she wouldn’t let the little pesky man spoil this beautiful day for her. She went to her study to pick the present she thought she’d give to Buffy. Her house looked better, obviously George and Angelina had cleared most of the mess Rodolphus had left behind, but there still was a lot to be done, especially the sight of what used to be her piano was devastating, yet... not even that could wash away the bright grin off her face today.

When Giles arrived at the old factory and parked his car, he could hear loud shrieks and shouts coming from inside. Reluctantly he walked towards the entrance, searching his pockets for some kind of a weapon, but then several laughs replaced the previous scary screams. With a wary face and having a bad feeling he pressed the doorknob.

First there was this gaudy smoke everywhere around and the place smelled oddly. It took him a moment before he could distinguish any persons... But there they were... and there were definitely too many of them.

“Hey, Mr. Giles!” The red-headed George Weasley waved at him, grinning widely. “You made it too! How nice!”

Giles smiled rather unconvincingly.

“I hope I didn’t spoil your evening yesterday, I am ever so sorry. Were you able to take off again at whatever I might have interrupted?” George asked and put on an innocent and anxious expression, and watched Giles becoming flustered.

“Uh-y-yes, thank you-uhm, we-we were, in fact,” he cleared his throat again, then turned towards the group of several other people he didn’t know and who were standing in a corner laughing heartily. “Who-who a-are those people?” He asked cautiously.

“Oh, let me introduce you,” George turned around and motioned to Giles to follow him and walked towards the group. There was a young woman with long red hair and a pretty pale face with freckles, a taller man with just as long, but messier red hair and an earring in one ear as well as an eccentric necklace of what looked like scales of some large reptile. Next to him, talking to Oz stood another young man, whose face and the round glasses seemed familiar to Giles but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen him. Yet when the man raised his head and turned his face towards George, Giles caught a glimpse of the peculiar scar on his forehead and immediately saw the mental headline above the man’s head – The Boy Who Lived.

“This is my sister Ginny,” George was already pointing towards the girl who held out her hand, “my brother Charlie, and this is Harry, we have a Chosen One of our own, you know,” he said when they stopped in front of Harry, who too gave Giles his hand to shake and politely replied: “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Hey, Giles,” someone slapped him on the shoulder and he turned around to see Willow. She was smiling at him, though rather insecurely. “We thought at the last minute that we should invite the guys too,” she nodded towards another corner where Hermione and Ron were twiddling with some decorations. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Giles wanted to say something about not being sure about all this, but he didn’t get to, for there was a loud bang and an even louder cry and at the other end of the large hall a fiery sparkling dragon emerged out of nowhere, opened its huge mouth with a deafening roar, raised higher in the air and began to fly towards them at a terrifying speed. The girls were screaming, but just before it reached them the dragon dissolved into a beautiful rain of tiny multicoloured sparkles. They all burst out into a laughter. All but one as Giles noticed. Angel was standing aside and watching them, his face was even gloomier than usual.

“And that was a Norwegian Ridgeback, right, Charlie?” George yelled, looking smug and content. His brother nodded amused. “Charlie helped me with designing them, so far I have five different breads to offer, but now I’m working on the Ukrainian Ironbelly and that’s a tough one...”

Giles left them and walked towards the vampire. He remembered Buffy’s dreams and wondered whether Angel had been concerned because of them too.

“It looks like they all went into some trouble to prepare this,” he tried to start a light conversation. “Buffy should be pleased, she deserves a little-uh... distraction I suppose.”

Angel merely nodded.

“So, ho-how are you? Have you-uh... recovered from the trials of that-uh... ritual-“

“Yes, thanks.”

For a moment Giles watched his tormented face, then said softly. “Buffy told you about the dreams, didn’t she? I’m sure there’s nothing...“

“Hm?” Angel turned his gaze away from the small group. “Yeah, me too,” he said in a low voice.

Again silence fell between them and they were both watching the others rather abstractedly.

“I didn’t know there’d be so many wizards here,” Angel finally spoke and Giles was under the impression that he was trying his best to sound as casual as possible, but the fact was troubling him apparently.

Giles laughed slightly anyway. “Nor did I.”

Behind them in a dark corner and unobserved George was sneaking up towards them, waving at Ron and Harry who were behind him following, both obviously unaware of his intentions.

“Psst, mates, come here,” he whispered, “check this out.” He raised his right hand holding his wand and pointed it at Angel. “I’ve tried it before, it’s really weird...” He made sure that they were both watching, then murmured “Impedimenta!”, yet a single blue strap of sparkles emerged from the wand and nothing happened. Ron and Harry exchanged confused looks. “Confundo!... Imperio!... Oppugno!” George shot several other curses towards the vampire, but nothing worked. He turned around and gave Harry a meaningful look, then turned back to try one more spell: “Crucio!

“George!” Hermione appeared out of nowhere and shocked she stared at the older Weasley. “What on Earth are you doing?!”

“Pssst,” George placed his finger on his lips to indicate that she should curb her voice down. “I’m just checking. Did you see it? The vampire is entirely immune-”

“You could have hit Mr. Giles!” She rebuked him whispering.

George rolled his eyes and ignored the remark. “What do you think about that? He can’t be harmed with a wand.”

“We'll see about that,” obviously Ron took it as a challenge and took out his own wand to give it a try: “Confringo!.... Frange!” After a while he gave up frowning and now both he and George looked at Harry expectantly. Harry hesitated.

“Oh, common, Harry, let’s see what the Chosen One can wreak,” George urged him, and Harry, a little unwillingly, pulled out his wand and under an incredulous glance from Hermione he too pointed it at Angel. “Stupefy.” Again there was the blue flash of light, but no effects.

Harry shrugged. “It is strange,” he admitted. For another five minutes they all kept trying all sorts of offensive spells they could come up with, Hermione watching them with a smug face.

“It is strange,” Ron muttered, glaring at Angel.

“And annoying,” George nagged.

They seemed to take it as a personal offence, as a blow to their magical skills, since unlike Hermione they couldn’t imagine other powers possibly being at work here.

“Let’s try something else,” suddenly Harry turned at the two brothers. “See those planks over there?” He pointed at a pile of wood lying on the floor somewhere between them and their target. A large narrow piece was on top with what looked like a little brick.

“Yes?” George asked and his face lightened up a bit.

They put their heads together and what had begun as a mere experiment to see how magic worked on vampires now turned into a mission to find a way, any way, to attack Angel and thus to re-establish their hurt wizarding honour.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Hermione reproved them, but no one was listening to her. They had a simple plan.

Ron pointed his wand at the little brick, murmured some Latin words and the red stone flew up and quietly sat down at one end of the plank that was touching the floor while the other end was in the air. But before Hermione realized what they were up to, Harry was already pointing his wand at the free end of the wood, whispering: “Oppingo.

There was a soft whizz as the brick got pitchforked and a loud “Ouch!” followed immediately when Angel’s hand jumped up to touch his head where something had hit him.

Ron, Harry and George exchanged satisfied grins, then George got up to his feet and casually walked past Giles and Angel, addressing the latter: “Sorry, pal.”

Angel rubbed the back of his head in confusion, when Willow joined them. “Giles, shouldn’t Buffy be here by now?”

He looked at his watch and furrowed his brows. It was already quarter after six and there still was no sign of Buffy or Helen.

“I don’t like this,” Angel said concerned.

“Psst, I think I hear her coming,” Xander whispered as some noises from outside got through to them and indeed soon Buffy crashed in through the window, fighting a vampire. It however was no match for her and in a few seconds she plunged a stake through its heart and it turned into dust. Buffy exhaled wearily.


AN: Not very happy about this one, especially the bed part, so sorry for that, once again it was a struggle with my limited English vocabulary, but still I hope you could bare it, if not enjoy it. I hope one day I might improve it.
Also a bit more action is in order for the coming chapters as you can perhaps imagine with the whole Angelus-thing lying ahead.

Thank you for reading, please leave a review. You know they make my day. Any critics is welcome.
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