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

It Ain't Always About the Blood

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

Summary: HP/BTVS - Sometimes you have to go halfway around the world to find your family. Dawn/Draco and more pairings along the way.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Multiple Pairings > Alternate UniverseMinuetFR1538,5730114,37715 Jun 065 Jan 07No


Disclaimer: I don't own any of them, though I would like to borrow them just for a bit. Dawn, Wesley, and Giles et al belong to the man they call Joss. Draco, Remus, Severus and the others belong to J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: It's been a long time since I've updated and I thank anyone who is still willing to read this. Sometimes life just gets in the way. Some of this chapter is a rewrite from the first posting, but some of it is new. I am almost done with the next part, so hopefully it will only be a day or two before I post the next section. Thanks again for your patience!

Please review as this is my first story and I need to know if it could be better!

Chapter 7 – Starting Over

Hogsmeade – 15 Months ago

The windows were dirty; the sills covered in at least two inches of dust. The old hard wood floors were scuffed in regular patterns across the room, and the walls were in dire need of a few coats of paint. Remus sighed heavily as he surveyed the inside of the rest of the building. It would take a lot of hard work to erase the months of neglect the place had suffered.

But, the building was solid, there was a spacious flat right above the store, and since the previous owners had closed their doors, the nearest wizarding bookstore was Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. It was the perfect place to start a new business and ultimately, a new life.

After Sirius’ death, Remus was lost. He was the last of the Marauders. True, Peter still drew breath, but Remus hardly thought that being in servitude to the Dark Lord could be considered living. There was no one that could share, let alone understand, his pain and loss. He spent the first few months at the bottom of a firewhiskey bottle, wishing for death and cursing himself for lacking the courage to end his own life. He became a hermit, never leaving Grimmauld Place and rarely allowing others to enter.

It was Harry that had ultimately forced him to leave; forced him to live. It still pained Remus to think of how he had abandoned his best friends’ son. So caught up was he in his own grief that he had failed to see that Harry had suffered all the same losses. Harry with his sad green eyes and the burden of his destiny. Harry, the boy who had never asked him, or anyone else for that matter, for anything. Until that Saturday morning a few weeks ago.


It had only been two days after the full moon and his transformation had been particularly rough. They were always painful, but adding a hangover to the mix had increased the pain tenfold. Harry had come by, as he had after every full moon, to check on him, and Remus had been less than hospitable to the boy he considered his nephew.

He was in the kitchen, attempting to make a cup of tea, and succeeding more in breaking half of the china in the cupboard, when Harry found him.

“All right, Remus? I thought perhaps you might be hungry this morning, so I came round to make you breakfast. I didn’t think that you would be awake yet. You look like hell.”

Having given up on the tea, Remus collapsed into his seat at the table and scowled up at Harry.

“Thank you for your wonderful assessment of my person, Harry. However, as I am not hungry, I’m afraid that your services will not be necessary,” he practically growled. Harry, in turn, had just ignored his older friend and set about getting out the pots and pans and digging into the pantry for whatever food he could find.

“Don’t be daft, Remus. You’ll feel much better after putting something in your stomach.” He had just rolled up the sleeves on his blue checked oxford and was about to start cracking open some eggs.

“I said that I am not hungry, you idiotic child!” Remus exploded. “For Merlin’s sake, why can’t you just leave me the hell alone?” If Harry wouldn’t leave, then Remus would. He knocked over his chair as he rose to leave the kitchen. In his haste, he almost missed the whispered reply.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Remus stopped mid-stride, but didn’t turn to face the teen.

“Harry, the Weasleys….”

“Are a wonderful family, but they are not mine. There is no shared history. And don’t you even dare mention the bloody Dursleys, either,” he held up his hand to keep Remus from interrupting. “I’m not even certain if they are human.”

Remus tried once again to talk some sense into the boy. “Harry, I don’t think I can – “

“No – you are all the only family that I have left, Remus. You must,” the boy said rather desperately. The pure anguish in his words finally caused Remus to turn around and face the boy. As he looked at Harry -- really looked at him -- he felt a wave of shame wash swiftly over him.

Although Harry had always been dwarfed wearing his portly cousin’s cast-offs, he looked even smaller than usual. Sun-warmed skin had been replaced by a pale, sallow color, and dark bags had appeared under the teens eyes. How could he have been so blind?

In all of his bitter selfishness and self-imposed isolation, Remus had ignored the pain of a helpless child who had never known the love that he wholly deserved. Remus at least had been blessed with time and memories, whereas Harry had only pictures.

He felt the tears stinging the backs of his eyes, but Remus refused to let them fall. Not in front of Harry. He needed to be strong now. An internal decision made, he stepped back across the room and gently placed a hand on the young boy’s shoulder. Without a word, Harry turned and buried his head in his adopted uncle’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I wasn’t – I didn’t – I won’t leave you alone,” he managed to get out. “I know that I haven’t been what you needed, but I really will try. We’ll help each other, right?” His only reply was the feel of Harry’s grip tightening around his back.

End flashback

Remus had vowed that day that he would straighten himself out and be there to support Harry however he possibly could. He owed it to the boy, and he owed it to James and Lily and Sirius. The first step had been sobriety, and after that came planning a course for the future.

The money that he had received from Sirius had ensured that he could do just about anything that he wanted; he just hadn’t been sure what that was. It was during a dinner at the Weasleys that they had heard about the recently abandoned bookstore in Hogsmeade from the twins. It had immediately sparked something in Remus. His love for teaching had originated from his love of books and learning.

It was the boy-who-lived that had finally convinced him to take the chance and purchase the place. In fact, Harry had contributed a good share of the money and the two became partners. The flat above the shop allowed Remus to get out of Grimmauld Place and had the added bonus of giving Harry a place to go outside of Hogwarts and the Dursleys’.
Remus would run the bookstore while Harry finished school. And once he had graduated, he would have the option of continuing school or settling down in the shop.

As he made a mental checklist of the tasks that needed to be done before opening, a small smile appeared on Remus’ face. He would always love and miss his friends, but he finally felt as though he could start to move on. It would be all right.

Within moments, the painters had arrived. They would spruce up the outside of the building before painting the new sign that would be placed out front. They hadn’t actually discussed what to call the place and although Remus felt a slight twinge of guilt about not including Harry in the decision, he was quite sure that he would approve of the new name.

Yes, in just two more weeks they would be ready for the unveiling of the new Padfoot and Prongs Book Shoppe.

Chapter 8 – The Raising

Sunnydale, California – Buffy Summers’ grave
About a year ago

“Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us. Before time, and after. Before knowing and nothing. Accept our offering. Know our prayer.”

Gashes began to appear on the arms of the petite redhead, causing her oldest friend to panic and try to stop her. “Willow!” As Xander leaned forward in an effort to help, he was stopped by Tara’s words.

“No! She t – she told me … she’d be tested. This is supposed to happen.” Willow continued on, mindless of the gashes and the others’ conversation.

“Osiris, let her cross over! Aah…”

The redhead began to cough heavily while her hands clutched at her throat. She seemed to be choking on something, but the others couldn’t figure out what. Within moments, however, their questions were answered as the head of a large boa constrictor emerged from Willow’s mouth. She arched forward with her hands braced on the ground as she tried to expel the dark creature from her lungs and get some air.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Tara cried as she watched; powerless to help her girlfriend for fear that they would disturb the spell. “It’s a test. It’s a test. Willow…”

With one last cough, the snake cleared itself from Willow’s mouth and lungs and slithered away across the cemetery. The young witch inhaled deeply before continuing with the spell. “Osiris, release her!”

A small green spark had begun to glow in the air above the four friends, slowly spreading its light out to cover the entire surface of Buffy’s grave. Then, from out of nowhere, the Buffybot came running towards the quartet followed closely by a pack of demons. “Willow! I need service!”

As one, Xander, Anya and Tara scrambled to protect Willow and keep the demons at bay. In all of the chaos, one of the demons drove his motorcycle over the Urn of Osiris. Just as the urn shattered, the green light seemed to flicker a few times before it flew away out of sight.

“No!” Willow cried out. She knew that they needed to get out of there, but couldn’t seem to bring herself to move. She had failed and it was over. Buffy was lost to them all.

England – Tom Riddle’s Grave
Same time

The dark of the cemetery was suddenly interrupted by a fierce green light that erupted in the sky overhead. It began as little more than a speck, but quickly grew into something much larger. Just as it seemed that the light could expand no further, it burst forth in a shower of colorful sparks. From the center of the explosion, two figures were tossed away from the light and onto the cold ground below.

The two men lay side by side, unmoving, for quite some time before the chill of the evening air began to wake them from their slumber. The older of the two began to flex his fingers and toes simultaneously while the younger let out a deep moan and rolled over on to his side.

Suddenly, both sat straight up as their minds cleared and their last conscious thoughts returned to them.

“Harry!” they cried out in unison.

The pair jumped back a bit as they had just realized they were not alone. They stared at one another for a moment, each man trying desperately to remember where he had seen the other before. The younger man was the first to recover.

“I know who you are. Bloody hell, you’re a murderer!!” He cautiously took a few steps back from the man with the long, dark hair. “You stay away from me or I’ll….” his words trailed off as he reached for the wand that he always kept in his pocket only to discover that not only was his wand missing, but so, apparently were his clothes!

The older man sneered at the discomfort of the teen before him. “Or you’ll do what, boy, pistol whip me? I don’t think you’re that well equipped.” He expected fear or perhaps more false bravery from the boy. What he didn’t expect was the smirk he was given in return.

“I’m thinking that you’re equipment isn’t in much better shape,” he grinned. At his companion’s look of confusion, the teen gestured for him to inspect his own body. The raven-haired man jumped back a bit when he realized that he, too, appeared to be without clothing.

“Bugger…” After a minute of confused silence between the two, the older man spoke again.

“Look, obviously we are both without,” he paused, “weapons.” The boy grinned. “And I don’t fancy getting into a brawl with you, as you’re rather large for a boy. So, why don’t we start with introductions?”

At the mention of introductions, the brunette teen remembered just who he was talking to and quickly adopted a more cautious stance. He may have been the bigger of the two, but he had absolutely no experience in hand-to-hand fighting.

“The name’s Cedric, Mr. Black. Cedric Diggory.”

“That can’t be. Y-you’re dead.” Sirius remembered this boy; remembered the guilt that Harry had suffered over his death.

“I know,” the boy whispered. “I remember. It happened right here. We were running for the cup, but it was a portkey. D-Did you know it was a portkey?” Cedric shivered as he continued speaking. “And then Vol- H-he was here and there was no more time. It was an unforgivable.” His erratic response ended as he stared at the spot where he had lost his life.

Those same words sparked a memory in Sirius’ own mind. “The Veil. At the Ministry. Bella - that viperous bitch - and I were dueling when I lost my balance. I heard Harry scream, but it was too late.”

Cedric’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “So, you’re telling me that you’re dead too, then?”

“Looks like,” replied Sirius. Another moment of silence passed before Cedric reached over and pinched Sirius’ arm, hard; causing him to squawk in a most un-manly fashion.

“Oi! What the bloody hell was that for?” He stood, alternately rubbing the reddened spot on his arm and trying to glare a hole in Diggory’s head.

“I reckon that means we’re not dreaming,” Cedric spoke his thoughts aloud. “We’re not ghosts, because I could touch you. And we’re both breathing.” His eyes widened with his newest thought. “Sirius, I don’t think we’re dead anymore.”

“Not dead? We can’t just be not dead anymore! Can we?” he added the last words uncertainly. Cedric shrugged, having no answer for him.

“Well, one thing’s for certain, then.” The teen looked at him questioningly. “We can’t stay here. We need to find Albus. If anyone can help us figure this out, it’s him. I just hope our reappearance doesn’t give the old man a heart attack.” Sirius turned, determined to find the path out of the cemetery and back to Hogwarts.

“I just hope our nakedness doesn’t give him a heart attack,” Cedric pointed out.


The End?

You have reached the end of "It Ain't Always About the Blood" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 5 Jan 07.

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking