Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges


StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

Summary: Willow Rosenberg, an undercover CIA analyst and a famous wizard going under the name James Bond must stop an old friend from activated a space weapon and destroying all of London. W/HP

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > James Bond
Harry Potter > Willow-Centered > Pairing: Harry Potter
(Recent Donor)DrakePendragonFR18522,4370125,37729 Dec 1229 Dec 12Yes

Chapter One – L'amour et la Chasse à Monaco

Chapter One – L'amour et la Chasse à Monaco

Chapter One of Goldeneye
a Story by DrakePendragon

Disclaimer: I do not own James Bond, that is owned by Ian Flemming and the Broccoli family. I do not own Harry Potter, that is owned by J.K. Rowling. I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that is owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.

Special thanks to my announced hit-and-run beta alynambred. I was wrong, I do care enough about the story to make the fixes you pointed out.


Boulevard des Anciens Combattants d'Afrique du Nord Boul
Beausoleil, France
July 31st, 2012 (Nine Years Later)
5:35 PM

A sleek Aston Martin DB5, a classic car in every sense, raced down the mountain road in the south of France at a high speed, just how the driver and his passenger liked it. James Bond (as he was universally called now that Harry Potter wasn't a recognizable face in his mirror anymore) enjoyed driving fast and nigh recklessly since he was, at his core, an adrenaline junkie. This explained his flying style in the wizarding sport of Quidditch where only adrenaline junkies participate. Who else would subject themselves to that kind of chaotic mayhem?

Beside him was an inhumanly beautiful twenty-five year old woman by the name of Gabrielle Delacour. They were old friends from way before he was MI-6 and she was DGSE, the French Intelligence Agency equivalent to his. She seemed completely at ease as they took the turn down the mountain at a high speed, gravity pulling him towards her. “Arry, it’s your birthday. I’m not letting you pay for me tonight. It’s not happening,” she said in her thick French accent.

“Not my name anymore, dear,” he replied without looking at her.

Gabrielle snorted indignantly. “Garçons anglais…” she muttered under her breath.

“What about us?” James asked.

“You’re pigheaded if you think that you are not still ‘Arry Potter underneath all that James Bond. It is the same with me. I am still Gabrielle Delacour underneath Clair Delacroix am I not?” she asked.

“Now there’s an appealing image,” James muttered. Gabrielle thumped him on the arm.

“You’re still not paying for me on your birthday,” she said.

“Of course I am. We’re in public in Monte Carlo tonight with both our agencies watching. A little gambling, a little drinking, a nice night in the hotel and our designated work,” he replied.

“Fine, but I’m transferring the money to you in recompense.”

“You do know we are here on business, right?”

“Of course I do. We’re always on business when we are together,” Gabrielle said with a roll of her eyes.

“Good, so long as that’s clear,” James replied.

“It’s just as good to mix business with pleasure,” she added with a teasing smirk.

“Isn't it just,” he said. A red Ferarri came into his vision coming off the last turn. James glanced back at it for a moment. Counterfeited plates; this years’ didn’t start with that letter.

“We have company, it would seem,” she said bemusedly. The Ferrari pulled alongside them revealing the beautiful Eastern European woman driving. She pulled off her sunglasses, gave James a wink and cut him off. Gabrielle’s mood darkened somewhat. She was a quarter Veela and moves against the one she claimed, however temporarily, tended to bring out the worst in her.

“She seems in the mood to play,” James drawled out.

“Oui, les lapins ont tendance à le faire juste avant les larmes de renard sur leur cou,” she said in annoyed French.

“All this talk of hunting and foxes and rabbits makes me wonder how much playing she’s up to, don’t you agree?” he asked.

“Only if I’m the fox that tears out her neck,” she answered.

“Well, I can’t promise you that, but the chase should be enjoyable,” he said. James pulled out into the oncoming lane and jumped in front of the red Ferarri, causing her to swerve dramatically to compensate. They continued the back and forth game until one wrong move on the Ferrari’s part caused her to nearly drive off a cliff, earning a malicious cackle from Gabrielle.

Finally, as Monte Carlo neared, James let her pass with a gracious bow and a cold glare from Gabrielle. The woman took the lead and sped off. James pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road overlooking the majestic city and the Mediteranean Sea.

“Her plates are counterfeit, should we tip off the police?” she asked.

“My dear, now that would be just petty,” James admonished.

“Well, I did consider feeding her to the merfolk in the Riviera Ligure di Ponente,” she admitted. That drew a chuckle out of him.

“I had heard that a jealous Veela was quite a horrific sight to behold, but that must not have been from the man the Veela was jealous over,” James said smoothly. She smiled brilliantly at him and leaned in close.

“Oh? And what does it look like from that perspective?” she asked in a soft, breathless voice.

“Stunning, terrifying, breathtaking,” he listed off between brief kisses.

“I’m sure MI-6 and DGSE would not be happy with the level of fraternization going on,” she said amusedly.

“We’ll call it thorough vetting,” he replied, leaning their seats back.

Casino de Monte Carlo
Monte Carlo, Monaco
July 31st, 2012
8:50 PM

The valets at the Monte Carlo Casino were some of the best in the world, not because of their efficiency, but of their decorum. As James pulled up to the casino, the valet went around and opened up Clair’s door, offering her a hand to help her out of the car. She stepped out in a short white cocktail dress with intricate silver embroidery. A multi-diamond choker was around her neck and her platinum blonde hair fell loosely upon her shoulders. All in all a sight that turned every man’s head in a block’s radius. James rose from his car in a crisp black tuxedo though he hadn’t quite managed to tame his hair even after the slew of cosmetic spells that Gabrielle threw at it.

“Ah, Monsieur Bond, Mademoiselle Delacroix, un plaisir de vous revoir. Quand dois-je chercher la voiture?” the valet asked.

“Onze, s'il vous plaît. Une soirée courte pour nous ce soir,” James said in fluent French.

“Bien sûr, monsieur,” the valet replied.

“James, we must stop coming here so often, the valets are starting to remember us,” Gabrielle said bemusedly. James offered his arm to her and they casually strolled toward the entrance. She noticed the red Ferrari parked nearby and scowled.

“Something the matter, dear?” he asked. She nodded lightly at the car.

“It would seem our Black Sea hare has decided to make her warren in the foxes den,” she said.

“I think we should let the fox and hare metaphors die a sweet death before we bludgeon it, no?” James suggested.

“As you wish, dear,” she replied loftily.

“But, perhaps our hunt will continue tonight in a different form,” he conceded. They entered the grand casino, casually making their way to the card tables. They had their ways of tipping the scales in their favor, Felix Felicis, Augmen Secundum, Leprechaun Dust, and others of the like, but all were severely banned at the casino and they did rather enjoy frequenting it.

At the poker table sat the driver of the red Ferarri, casually ruling over the table with quite the winnings in front of her. James and Gabrielle sauntered over there and he took a recently vacated seat at the table. All eyes turned from the eastern European woman in the very low cut black dress to Clair in her long sleeved, full coverage white dress. A fact that wasn’t lost on Gabrielle and drew a wry smile to her lips.

“Je vais prendre ce siège si vous n'avez pas l'esprit,” James said smoothly.

“And why would I mind?” the woman said with a heavy Georgian accent.

“I wasn’t sure if our sport of earlier shook you up too badly,” he replied off handedly.

“We were just enjoying a pleasant drive in the country, were we not, Mister…?” she asked.

“Bond, James Bond,” he said. The dealer passed two cards to both players. James tilted his up and saw the King of Spades and the Queen of Hearts. Gabrielle smiled in amusement at the fitting description of them and gave James’ shoulder a small squeeze. The other woman seemed pleased by her cards as well.

“Are you a gambling man, Mister Bond?” she asked.

“An odd question to be posed at a card table,” James replied. The round of betting passed by and the three card flop: A two, three, and a four. Fairly useless to him.

“We seem to be sharing the same interests is all,” she stated. The next card came down as a six of spades. The woman seemed pleased by the development as she sat up straighter in her chair.

“I count two: fast cars and cards,” James said.

“How about winning?” she said with a shark’s smile. The last card came down as the seven of spades. James smiled brilliantly and laid down his hand. King, Queen, and Seven; 007 as it were. “ქოქოლას!” she cursed in Georgian under her breath.

“Yes, I dare say I do enjoy winning,” James replied. He collected the money and he and Gabrielle headed for the bar. She was grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

“Madame et Monsieur?” the waiter asked them as they took their seats at one of the tables.

“Vodka Martini, shaken not stirred,” James said.

“Rose Noir, shaken,” she said.

“Oui, tout de suite,” the waiter said before heading for the bar.

“How much did we walk away with?” she asked.

“Enough to cover our expenditures at the very least,” he replied.

The woman walked by, pausing just past their table. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Mister Bond,” she said over her shoulder.

“Can we at least get your name?” James asked.

“Onatopp, Xenia,” she replied.

“Onatopp?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Onatopp,” Xenia replied coldly.

“Certainly must give you an interesting perspective on things,” James replied.

“Have a nice evening, Mister Bond,” she said, walking away from their table. As soon as she was out of earshot Gabrielle snickered to herself.

“That was a ‘orrible joke, James,” she said.

“Yes, but you can’t blame me for wanting to stay Onatopp of things,” he said with a smirk. Their drinks arrived but neither of them had taken their eyes off of Xenia. She positioned herself on the arm of a Canadian Admiral.

“Look at that, she passed up a Commander such as yourself for an Admiral,” she teased.

“I always did enjoy a woman that pulled rank,” James replied. Gabrielle leaned onto his side with her lips next to his ear and her hand trailing up his leg.

“If you keep giving me ideas, we’ll never leave the ‘otel room and actually do the job we’re ‘ere for,” she whispered.

“Then to business it is,” he said sadly.

“Xenia, who just graciously confirmed her identity to us, is a former fighter pilot for the Georgian Air Force. She was dishonorably discharged in 2008 after massacring an entire small town in the South Ossetia War,” she said just loud enough for him to hear.

“And now she’s a primary operative for the Janus Group out of St. Petersburg. I doubt that Admiral will last the night,” James added.

“Pauvre bâtard. Should we do something?” she asked.

“Nothing for us to do, dear. We have no proof and all we’d accomplish is blowing our covers,” he replied.

The waiter came by and dropped off their drinks. James tipped him generously and sent him on his way. Gabrielle had pulled out her smartphone from her purse and started accessing Monaco government files. James simply sat back and let his eyes wander around the room. She tapped his hand lightly and showed a satellite image of the harbor from that morning. There was a French warship there with the prototype Tiger helicopter they were there for. British and French intelligence received credible threats that the Janus Group was targeting the EMP hardened helicopter for unknown reasons.

That wasn't what she was showing him, however. She was pointing to an unregistered and unmarked yacht floating just off shore. “Until Xenia’s appearance, I was severely doubting the validity of this,” she remarked.

“Agreed. We need actual visual surveillance on that yacht,” he said.

“So, we finish our drinks, play tourist for a while and then retire to our rooms for the night?” she asked hopefully.

“Indeed, and let us hope for a long night at that,” James replied. Gabrielle’s eyebrows quirked up seductively as she took a long sip of her drink.

“The longest,” she added.

Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo
Monte Carlo, Monaco
July 31st, 2012
11:15 PM

James stood on the roof of the hotel looking out at the harbor. He had in his hand his smartphone with the aerial image of the yacht entering the harbor this morning but he still had to locate it. He used his phone to scan each vessel. Gabrielle had retired to their suite ten minutes ago and left this task in his capable hands. He was rapidly growing weary of this. Each ship kept coming up as registered and legal. That’s when he managed to catch Xenia and the Admiral traveling by speedboat towards one of the yachts he hadn’t scanned yet.

He snapped a few photos of the pair and his phone buzzed with identification matches. Xenia Onatopp, as he already knew, and Admiral Chuck Farrell, Royal Canadian Navy. He took one of the yacht and it came up as the Manticore registered to the Pan-African Energy Group, a shell-company for the Janus Group. James couldn’t help but dislike the name of the yacht after he and Seamus ran into a real Manticore in Greece some twelve years back tracking a rogue Death Eater.

James stepped down from the edge of the building and headed back in, sending his findings to MI-6 and earmarking them for DGSE on Gabrielle’s behalf. He headed down the old stairs to his suite. The room was dark inside save the moonlight coming in through the window onto the bed. On the bed laid a naked Gabrielle with only a thin sheet covering her and her diamond choker around her neck.

“Appy birthday, ‘Arry,” she said with a seductive smile. James couldn’t help but smile in return and loosen his bowtie as he approached the bed.

“A wonderful present to be sure; you get me the nicest things. However, someone seems to have unwrapped it already,” he replied, reaching the edge of the bed. Gabrielle sat up, letting the sheer sheet pool around her waist and revealing her bare torso to him. She leaned and kissed him languidly.

“Yet you are still surprised. I am glad,” she replied.

“Oh, I plan to make you more than glad tonight, dear,” he replied. She got to work on the buttons of his shirt with a smile.

“Nous verrons,” she replied mirthfully.

The Manticore
Monte Carlo, Monaco
August 1st, 2012
3:06 AM

Xenia paced around the cabin, puffing a cigarette and clearly perturbed about something. Killing the Admiral had been very satisfying to her, but she really wanted to have squeezed the life out of that arrogant James Bond and his demon bitch. She knew that the blonde with him wasn’t completely human. It pinged off of her senses like radar. Nothing more would please her than to personally wipe that superior look off her face. But right now, the Admiral sated her lust and her hunger. It had been nearly a decade since she became this strong. It was 2003 in the spring that she finally got to get her desired revenge against those that crossed her.

Xenia was a Vampire Slayer, one of a thousand on the planet but she felt no kinship to her fellow Slayers. Nor did she care about demons or vampires or any kind of duty. She cared only for herself and her next kill. She paced by the Admiral’s body again, sparing it a glance and a smile. His face was contorted in agony and the deep bruising around his torso from where she wrapped her mystically empowered legs and squeezed the life out of him had started to appear. She gave an involuntary ecstatic shudder and the orgasm she received from his dying gasps.

The phone on the table started to ring and she hurriedly snatched it up. “Yes?” she said quickly.

“All is done, I take it?” the voice on the other end said.

“Yes. We have the clearances and the identifications for tomorrow, just awaiting the morning,” she replied.

“Good. Were there any issues?” Janus asked.

“No. An Englander named James Bond and his French bitch made a fool of me at the casino. I plan on meeting them after the job is over and showing them what a mistake that was,” she swore.

“No! No harm will befall him or the girl, understood? You are important to my plan and if you kill the girl he will most certainly kill you. I need you and him alive, Xenia,” he ordered.

“Understood,” she said bitterly.

“Good, hide the body and leave the Manticore. We can’t risk you being seen there if he comes in the middle of the night,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she said, ending the call. Xenia let out a shriek of barely contained rage and swung her fist at the heavy wooden table. It picked up off the floor and smashed into the wall, showering the room with wooden shrapnel. She took a few deep breaths and drags from her cigarette to calm her fragile psyche down.

Xenia walked over to the Admiral’s body and lifted the portly corpse by the neck with only one hand. She threw open the closet and tossed the body in it, slamming the door closed right after.

The Manticore
Monte Carlo, Monaco
August 1st, 2012
10:25 AM

James appeared on the deck of the Manticore with a faint pop and his pistol in hand. “Clair, do you read me?” he asked over their radio channel.

“I hear you. I’m in position on the Carrier. The crowds are starting to gather so I will have a hard time spotting Xenia,” she said.

“I’m onboard the Manticore. I’ll be there as soon as I finish my search,” he said.

“Be careful, James. We angered a lunatic last night. That can’t be good luck,” Clair said.

James slid open the glass door to the interior of the yacht carefully looking around. It had all the trappings of a fine, high-end, luxury yacht. Including necrotized glass and an urn on the dining table that clearly invokes Inferii. He sighed and put his pistol away favoring his wand in situations like this.

“What is the point in that? Why would I even touch that urn?” James asked himself with a disapproving shake of his head. A loud crack filled the air and a sailor appeared behind the urn.

“Janus sends his regards,” he said before knocking over the urn and disapparating away. A deep guttural groaning filled the air and James glanced down the stairs to the cabin of the yacht and saw the very dead Admiral shambling towards him.
Normally they’d be unable to stand the sunlight and would rather wait on the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea, but thanks to the modern invention of necrotized glass, vampires and inferii can kill people no matter what time of day it is.

James fired off a small fireburst from the tip of his wand that turned the reanimated Admiral to dust. Unluckily, more and
more bodies started coming out of every nook and cranny of the yacht. In all honesty, it offended him that this Janus thought this was tough enough to stop him. He let enough of them gather in the room when he shot a single sonic wave from his wand that shattered the necrotized glass. The inferii writhed and ignited, burning away.

“James! James! The Janus Group has the helicopter!” Gabrielle yelled over the channel.

“Damnit, the yacht is just a diversion. What’s going on over there?” James replied.

“Xenia shot and killed the two pilots that are supposed to be flying the Tiger helicopter. She and another are taking it right now!” she said. James hurried to the blown out window of the yacht and watched the blades spin on the helicopter and lift off the deck of the Carrier.

“Janus certainly knows how to send his regards,” he griped.

“What do we do now, James?” she asked.

“Well, report in first of all, have our organizations put out an APB on the helicopter with links to terrorist activity, and then perhaps wait and see what happens,” he said.

“Sacrebleu. I ‘ate that approach,” she replied.

“So do I,” James concurred. He kicked the inferii urn away from him in annoyance. This Janus knew he was a wizard and knew something like that wouldn't stop him. None of this sat right with him. “So do I,” he repeated.

End of Chapter One
Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking