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Thursday night therapy.

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Summary: This group therapy session for heroes held quite a surprise for Buffy.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Buffy-Centered
Multiple Crossings > Buffy-Centered
(Recent Donor)DruganFR1312,194172,47919 Jun 1319 Jun 13Yes
Thursday night therapy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, Harry Potter or any of the other intellectual properties (listed at the end) mentioned within this story.

Thursday, therapy night. Buffy was currently enrolled in two different therapy groups, each with its own weekly meeting. Never one for disclosing her feelings, favouring bottling them instead, the news of her inscriptions had come to a surprise to her friends and family. Xander had even gone as far as presume she was under a mystical influence. The truth was simpler. Her desire for privacy hadn’t abated nor was any demonic creature influencing her mind; she had simply realized that burrowing her emotions was unhealthy, dangerous and counter-productive. Sacrificing some of her privacy to maintain a healthier outlook on her life was a better option.

A few final touches to her light makeup; a small adjustment to her blouse’s collar; a stylish yet comfortable pair of shoes; she was ready. A quick glance toward her alarm clock informed her that just over ten minutes were left before leaving for the night’s session. She went to her living room to wait for Dawn as her sister was also a part of the therapy.

“Hi Buffy!” chirped the girl in question moments later as she entered the small apartment without knocking. The pair had just the time for a light hug before a bluish portal appeared in a corner of the room, their way into the Nexus where their meeting was held.

The Nexus was a pocket dimension outside the multiverse, apart from the passage of time. It had been established by the greater powers that ruled the good guys in the whole of creation, the bosses of Buffy’s bosses, as a gathering place for heroes. It was part of a series of measures instituted to help good prevail against evil throughout existence. It was mainly a reward, a place where heroes could not only find their peers, but also discuss, relax or take vacations. Out of time, it could host them for months or years without their bodies aging or a single second elapsing in their home dimensions.

The true breakthrough didn't come from the Nexus’ creators, but from a minor hero called Doc Samson. The green-haired muscled psychiatrist had recognized the similarities between the issues encountered by the different universes heroes and suggested the creation of discussion groups around those issues. The groups had rapidly been formalized into group therapies. Saner heroes are better saviours.

As for rules, few were enforced in the Nexus. Entrance was on invitation to heroes that had proven themselves and their families. The fabric of the dimension prevented any violence past friendly sparring. The only enforced rule that wasn’t integrated in the physic of the pocket universe was that it was forbidden to intrude in a therapy session. Doing so could get you banned from the Nexus and, as a side-effect, from dimensional travel altogether.

Buffy approached the portal carefully. She was aware of the rules, knew those particular portals couldn’t be faked but her previous traumatic experiences with analogous phenomenon had left her with a deep-rooted wariness that months of safe travel had failed to eliminate. Dawn, mindful of the problem, followed nearby. Pressuring her older sister was neither productive nor safe.

“Any news?” she asked, hoping to initiate a distraction through conversation.

“No.” was Buffy initial curt answer, coming out unbidden, almost like a reflex.

Buffy was expecting news on one specific subject: her transdimensional boyfriend. She’d met him in her Tuesday group and they quickly established a deep complicity, to the point where they had chosen to cohabitate. They had been residing together in her universe for a whole month when an unspecified emergency had him return to his native dimension. That was weeks ago. There had been no further contacts since.

“Willow’s monitoring him.” she clarified. “He went through the whole gamut of his emotions but he’s physically well, if a bit tired.”

“I miss him.” she added wistfully.

“I’m sure you do.” state Dawn emphatically, adding a short hug to the words.

They stepped in the dimensional gateway to emerge in a cozy lounge decorated in earthy colours. Cozy chairs and couches, empty of occupants, were arrayed in a circle at the center.

Buffy smirked. Her discomfort at the mean of their travel and her sadness at her absent boyfriend temporarily discarded as she focused on the impressions transmitted by her enhanced senses. She counted down mentally in expectation of the attack.

“5. 4. 3. 2. 1.”


Just on cue, a black, red and blue missile jumped into Dawn’s arms. Only the martial training doggedly acquired from her older sister prevented the youngest Summers from tumbling to the ground on impact. The missile - a tween tomboyish girl with black hairs, red cap, red shorts and a blue hoodie - seized her target by the hand and pulled her to a couch. Moments later, the two girls were seated, chattering, giggling, gossiping.

Danielle, as the missile was baptized, had come as a blessing into Dawn’s life. Both shared similar issues, from fatherly grudges to difficulties dealing with the way they were conceived. Both also shared similar temperaments and miles-wide heroic streaks that often led them to bite more than they could chew. The best thing about that relationship, at least from Buffy’s point of view, was its almost sisterly nature. Dawn had long resented her status as the youngest amongst the Scoobies. With Danielle, she had gotten a sudden promotion to big sister. Buffy had promised herself to do almost anything to promote that friendship, with one glaring exception. She would no longer allow them to host a sleepover at Slayer Central. Andrew still threw a fit at the sight of a curling iron.

Almost everyone part of the therapy had already arrived. Danny, Danielle’s progenitor, was standing against a wall, failing at inconspicuously observe Dawn. The two teens were the same age and it was obvious to everyone but the pair that there was an infatuation building between them.

Another teenage member of the group was crouched in a corner, her long straight black hairs almost touching the ground. Laura was glaring at the opposite side of the lounge where Logan, a gruff mid-aged man, was smoking a malodorous cigar. He had enhanced senses like Buffy, probably better than hers and it stumped her to see him consume those vile things.

The three military buffs - Jonathan, Jack and Miles - were deeply involved in an animated discussion. Jack acted like the cool uncle. All the younger members of the group, herself included, treated him as such and often went to him for counsel. Jonathan was another teen, at least in body. He was too weary and wary, too aged by life, for her not to think of him as her elder. Miles was... Miles. Small and deformed, he compensated with an overbearing personality that put forth incredible wits and charisma.

Mark, Miles’ brother and other half in the therapy, was involved in a conversation of his own with yet another teen, Terry. From the complex gesticulations, their talk either involved a ball of some kind or they were debating the best way to throw a watermelon. Mark appeared almost the antithesis of Miles: a mild mannered broad, bulky man, at the limit of obesity.

Terry, like Miles, was hard to describe. Dawn had once equalled him to a male Faith, a redeeming soul, without the constant sexual insinuations. It was an exact description, but it didn’t quite fit. There was a hidden depth to the teen that Buffy could perceive but failed to convey. Had she not found love, she would have tried her chances with him. She had met very few men she could believe worthier.

His counterpart in the session was a whole other ballgame. The oldest participant, Bruce was a stern, sour character, always either glaring or smirking. He was currently out of her field of view yet she remained hyper-aware of his presence. The group counted two almost indestructible aliens, Kal-El and Kon-El. It was purely human and apparently feeble Bruce the only one feared by the Slayer aspect of her persona.

As for the two nearly indestructible aliens, they were absent. No surprise there. They didn’t come often even if, with Laura and Logan, they were amongst those who needed therapy the most. Resentment and unease was flourishing between the pair. Only the natural serenity of the eldest, Kal-El, kept them from physically taking out their frustrations on each other.

One last pair was still missing, the strange two-hearted man that called himself the Doctor and his militaristic daughter Jenny. A baffling couple: they professed being time-travellers yet always arrived in the timeless Nexus at the last possible moment, generally in a sprint.

Buffy was considering seating near her sister to wait for the beginning of the session when she was hugged from behind, in a very familiar awkward hold. She immediately turned around and, providing Dawn with matters for a few good days of teasing, squealed like a girl half her age. A chaste but prolonged kiss on the lips silenced her.

Her boyfriend seemed tired, a tad sickly and nervous. He also radiated happiness and contentment. His untamed black hairs seemed longer, his vivid green eyes were surrounded by dark circles and his scar, already in the process of disappearing before their separation, had faded some more. She was truly considering ravishing him right there, privacy forgotten, when a stray thought hit her almost physically.

“You’re not supposed to be here!” she hissed, alarmed.

The rules were strict. Even if he shared the Tuesday therapy group on coming back from death with her and a surprisingly high number of other members of this group, he wasn’t allowed here. He was intruding, which meant...

“You’ll get expelled” she announced, her panic rising.

Instead of taking her seriously, he chuckled sheepishly.

“I won’t.”

“Explain.” she ordered, puzzled eyes narrowed, foot tapping.

“Did I tell you about my potion teacher at school?”

“Professor Snake?”

“Snape.” he corrected.

“The one with the unhealthy obsession for your mother?” she added, making sure they were thinking of the same man.

“Yes! His... obsession... for my mum was... unhealthier than we thought. He... There’s...” he hesitated. “This is hard. Let’s go back a bit, it’ll make things clearer. You’ve seen how backwards wizards are in a lot of subjects, especially related to sciences.”

She confirmed non-verbally, still waiting for her explanation. She had spent a lot of enjoyable evenings, cuddled at his side, bringing up his knowledge of pop culture or simply watching him doing homework assigned by Willow. The Wiccan witch had had quite the scary public rant on education when she had realized the holes in his academic knowledge; a rant so scary that Dawn’s and most of the younger slayer’s grades had risen through the roof.

“For them, genetic is a silly muggle superstition to be discarded, especially since a part of the population made consanguinity a way of life. My professor, Snape, had started an... experiment before his death. He had the brilliant idea that a female me would allow him to bring back an almost-copy of my mother and he wanted a …”

He mouthed the letters ‘s’, ‘e’ and ‘x’. Buffy opened her mouth to confirm but was stopped by a quick kiss right on her lips. He shook his head, mouthing ‘later’.

“.., doll.” he continued. “He... acquired... some of my blood and...”

He paced in front of her for a few seconds, obviously mulling how to pursue, until assuredness took over his face.

“Everyone! Everyone, please. May I have your attention?” he declared in a strong voice.

Silence fell in the room as he became the center of attention.

“Hi everyone, my name’s Harry.”

“Hi Harry.” jokingly answered Jack, Jonathan, Dawn and Terry in a chorus.

“And this is my...” Harry stopped, perplexed, as if something was amiss.

“Accio cloak.” he muttered.

A shimmering cloak materialized in the middle of the air and flew into his stretched hand, revealing a small preteen girl with his black hairs and green eyes. The little child ‘eeped’ before clutching his leg and half-hiding behind his body. Harry delicately pushed her in front of him, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Almost a decade ago, my genetic material was stolen without my knowledge. This is Lily Luna Potter, my daughter, created from the stolen material. We’re here to join you in therapy.”

I’ve been experimenting for some years on family-themed BtVS and HP crossovers in different attempts toward a long story. This is the results of one of my experiments, cleaned up and put in a one-shot.

In all the tropes and stereotypes I’ve seen applied to Harry Potter, I don’t remember encountering the one where a clone is conceived without permission by a foe or a frenemy for nefarious purposes.

As promised, here are the details on the characters used or mentioned.

Buffy, Dawn, Andrew, Willow, Xander : Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Harry, Snape : Harry Potter
Kal-El, Kon-El, Bruce, Terry : DC Comics
Miles, Mark : Vorkosigan Saga, Lois McMaster Bujold
Logan, Laura, Doc Samson : Marvel Comics
Jack, Jonathan : Stargate
Doctor, Jenny : Doctor Who
Danny, Danielle : Danny Phantom

The End

You have reached the end of "Thursday night therapy.". This story is complete.

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