Title: Willow Rosenberg's Holiday Diary
Genre: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Harry Potter Crossover (Willow/Draco)
TTH Secret Santa for Echo (a tad late)
Timing: This story occurs after Buffy’s seventh season, and post-book 7 Harry Potter.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own these characters. Giles, the Slayers, et al. belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Harry Potter and the Hogwarts crew belong to J.K. Rowling.
Distribution: List Archives, The Voice Inside, all others, please ask.
Author’s Note: Take one busy person working 50+ hours a week, add a wicked ear infection and e-mail that either saves mail I’ve deleted, or deletes/doesn’t get mail I haven’t seen and what do you get? Someone who didn’t realize she hadn’t gotten an e-mail about her Secret Santa assignment until after they were due. But Jinni didn’t think Echo would mind getting two… so, here it is!
Thanks to Sally, Michelle and Melly from SJFicChat for their read of the story. As one who rarely writes comedy, I needed reassurance that this was actually funny :)
Willow Rosenberg’s Holiday Diary
23 December, 2003
2: 30 -- Have arrived at airport. Briefly contemplate using magic to levitate weighty, cumbersome suitcases filled with holiday presents. Sadly, improper use of magic is a Bad Thing. Curse (in Latin). Drag suitcases behind me to the check-in counter.
2:35 – Aah, holiday travel. Look at long line of homeward bound Santa-Worshippers waiting to get their boarding passes. Join line.
2:45 – Wonder if line consists of actual people or life-like mannequins as no one has moved for at least five minutes.
2:48 – Still in line.
2:50 – Wonder if I’ve somehow strayed into a parallel dimension where time moves very slowly.
2:55 – Sneeze. Will not be sick. Will not.
3:00 – Finally reach counter. Hallelujah!
3:05 – Boarding pass in hand, am on my way to the gate. Vow to go straight there, not spending money I no longer have because I’ve already spent it on presents. Will sit at gate, get out laptop, and work on my Electronic Spellbook.
3:08 – Ooh! Starbucks!
3:20 – Fortified with caffeine (and, okay, a brownie, too), am finally headed to gate. “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” playing over airport speakers. Am feeling festive.
3:25 – Still walking. Less festive. Am thankful I’ve ditched previously mentioned heavy suitcases.
3:30 – Am still walking. Previously mentioned festive feeling gone. Possibly lost during million-mile trek to gate. Give thanks for energy-boosting cappuccino. Yay, caffeine!
3:35 – How big is this bloody airport anyway?
3:36 – Am picking up British slang. Wonder if I’ve spent too much time in England lately.
3:38 – Have finally arrived at gate. Collapse. Am feeling Grinchy.
3:39 – Pant. Pant. Bah humbug. Pant.
3:45 – Resume normal breathing, quicker than I’d thought. Contemplate probably cardiovascular benefit of running from demons.
3:47 – Check board for flight information. Boarding at 4:30. Despite craving-induced caffeine-and-chocolate binge, still have time to work on my Electronic Spellbook.
Unless I eat the other brownie.
4:35 – Stop work when I realize the time. Grab boarding pass. Ready to get this show on the road.
4:40 – No boarding announcement yet. Wonder why? Wander over to window. Realize why boarding is currently impossible -- plane not at gate.
4:50 – Man with poor enunciation and thick unidentifiable accent announces that plane delayed getting in because gate had a hacking cough. Or possibly because it was late taking off. Can’t tell exactly what he said.
4:51 – Announces flight to Cleveland will be late boarding. Roll eyes. Well, duh. Await further announcements.
4:55 – Resist urge to strangle barely intelligible woman who announces in a bored voice that they don’t know when our plane will leave.
5:00 – Resolutely go back to laptop. Sneeze.
5:01 – Sneeze. Sneeze. Cough.
5:04 – Realize people on either side of me are eying me suspiciously, before moving away from me. Frown, then smile realizing sneezing means more space to myself.
5:07 – Cough. Cough. Cough. Cold is quickly getting worse. Look up at gate. Still no announcement as to boarding time. Wander about in search of cough medicine.
5:10 – Aha! Have found plethora of overpriced medicines in tiny pouches. Buy many, as I fear I may spend the rest of my life in this airport hacking and sneezing – or just spend the rest of my life in this airport, period.
5:40 – Still no news. Contemplate alternate modes of transportation – apparating, Stargate, molecular transporter. Vow to dedicate my life to making futuristic and/or magical transport possible.
5:42 – Recant previous vow, realizing have already dedicated life to demon-fighting.
6:15 – Woo-hoo! Cheer when airline-worker-type-person announces that flight will arrive at 6:30, and depart once they’ve restocked the plane. Stand up to do dance of joy.
6:16 – Sit down. Am woozy. Am also dancing-impaired. Breathe sigh of relief that woozy feeling stopped potential dance. Dizziness preferable to self-induced public humiliation.
6:20 – Consider napping, but realize that would violate airport security by leaving my bags unattended.
6:23 – *zzzzzzz*
7:00 – Awaken to garbled sound of poorly-enunciating man. Flight has been… tinseled? Ooh, Christmas decorations. Would make plane look pretty. Sparkly.
7:01 – Passengers around me groan. Flight has not been tinseled… it’s been cancelled. Overhear fellow passengers talking about reason for flight stoppage – brake problems. Not good. Need brakes. Must stand in line to be rebooked on next flight…if I’m capable of standing…
7:02 – Am standing -- peachy. At back of line – not so peachy. This line must also be in a parallel time-slowing dimension, as it’s even slower than the check-in line earlier…
7:03 – Notice that cute blonde man is staring at me.
7:04 – Wonder why he’s staring at me.
7:05 – Wonder why I think he’s cute. He’s male, and I’m a lesbian. Aren’t I? Contemplate emotional/biochemical process behind chemical attraction.
7:06 – Too much cold medicine for higher brain function. Smile at cute guy. Who frelling cares why I think he’s cute? He just is.
7:10 – Think about starting up conversation with aforementioned hottie.
7:11 – Realize that would require moving. Moving bad. Moving makes the room spin. Plus, moving would take me out of line.
7:15 – Attempt to covertly stare at cutie. Realize covertness is impossible under stand-in-line-at-the-airport conditions. Stare openly. Definitely a muffin.
7:17 – He turned away! Pout. Wait…what’s he doing… he’s pulling something out of his pants… can he do that at the airport? Blink. Looks like a magic wand…and like he’s whispering a spell.
7:19 – Willow + cold medicine = not good. Am hallucinating cute men with magic wands. Either that or he’s a pervert who talks to himself. With my luck, it’s probably door #2.
7:21 – Crowd cheers, as brakes are…jerking again? Oh, they’re working again. The flight has been un-cancelled. Woo-hoo!
7:35 – Flight 666 to the Hellmouth is now boarding. Where was my boarding pass again?
7:50 – Slump down in airplane seat. Bliss. Must sleep.
8:20 – Rudely awakened by obnoxious people singing – in the broadest sense of the word – Christmas carols. If I were evil, I’d magically rip out their vocal cords…
8:22 – Consider becoming evil, veiny Willow if it makes those bloody buggers shut up.
8:23 – Yep, definitely sounding too British. Next thing you know I’ll be watching the telly and going to the loo. Though not at the same time.
8:30 – Awaken again when someone takes the empty seat next to me. Ooh, it’s him!
“Hello, I’m Draco Malfoy.”
Draco? Interesting name. “I’m Willow. Rosenberg. Willow Rosenberg is me.” I move closer, staring into his mesmerizing eyes when… Hey! Something is poking me…and it feels like… “Is that a magic wand in your pocket or are you just happy to meet me?” Gulp. Did I actually just say something that lame?
He reaches down, pulling out a foot-long stick of wood. “Wand. Sorry.” He gives me a wicked grin. “Though I am happy to meet you.”
“You did use magic on the plane. I’m not crazy.” Yippee! I’m not bonkers. “You’re a witch!”
“So are you!” he counters. ‘Tis true… Don’t know how he knows, though… I blink. Must clear brain. Must think.
Aw, screw it. Thinking is overrated.
I pull him closer, our lips locking together. Maybe this isn’t such a bad day after all.