Genre: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Harry Potter Crossover
Timing: This story occurs after Buffy's series finale and has spoilers...mainly about Spike.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own these characters. Spike et al. belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Hermione belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Distribution: List Archives, The Voice Inside, all others, please ask.
Author's Notes: For Buffy, this occurs ten weeks after the season seven (series) finale, and contains spoilers for said finale. For Harry Potter, it assumes that Hermione and her classmates have graduated a couple of years prior.
Thanks to: Carol, for her suggestions and IM betaing. To Valerie and Sally for their help with the Brit-isms.
Every time you call me, I'm too scared to be me
And I'm too shy to say
I got a crush on you
I hope you feel the way that I do
I get a rush when I'm with you
Ooh, I've got a crush on you
A crush on you
-- "Crush" by Mandy Moore
He was evil, Hermione reminded herself. A vampire. He'd tried to destroy the world on more than one occasion. Just because he wasn't necessarily evil now didn't mean he was the kind of person a respectable girl like herself should associate with.
But heaven help her, he was the sexist thing she'd ever seen. With his chiseled cheekbones and bulging biceps... and the way he smiled, like he knew that just the sight of his smug grin sent shivers up and down her spine.
He couldn't know. She'd cast a spell to protect her against his irresistible charm, cast glamours to make her look absolutely normal even when she was shaking inside. She'd had to, or else she never would have made it through the three months of her summer internship. For eighty-nine days and eighty-eight excruciatingly long nights she'd fought beside him, dispelling the dark foes that haunted the city. She'd been a member of the famous Scooby Gang, the Muggles (and not-quite-Muggles) who had closed the largest Hellmouth in the world once and for all.
They'd made extraordinary progress in Cleveland. Nearly destroyed the Hellmouth there - which, incidentally, was large and scary enough for Hermione. She couldn't imagine the terror of facing an even larger Hellmouth. She'd aided their efforts in attempting to close the portal to hell, using charms, potions, and, on one memorable occasion, a wooden stake. She'd learned more about magic in the Muggle world than she'd ever wanted to know.
She was supposed to be writing an essay about her summer experiences to take back to Hogwarts so she could finish up her advanced degree in Defense Against the Dark Arts. But she couldn't think about Orbs of Thessulah, writings of Tiberius, or all of the extensive self-defense skills she'd picked up over the summer. Instead, she was thinking about one thing - Spike.
The souled vampire, mysteriously resurrected - intact - after giving his life to destroy Sunnydale's Hellmouth, invaded her every thought, every feeling, until she was overwhelmed by the emotion and had to struggle to restrain herself. It would be most unseemly if she were to jump on him in the middle of their hotel lobby.
Not that he'd be interested if she did. Everyone knew that Spike harbored feelings for Buffy, the group's senior Slayer. He'd been in love with her for years, even underwent horrible trials to regain his soul so he would be the man she deserved. Hermione had heard rumors Buffy had even told Spike she loved him, though they hadn't had a romantic encounter since his resurrection.
Unrequited love was the most difficult to overcome, she thought, remembering her crush on Harry during their sixth year at Hogwarts. She'd taken a year to get over him, then finally realized they were better off as friends. She'd even been a bridesmaid when he'd married Ginny Weasley last Christmas. Still, she knew about unrequited love - knew there was no way Spike would ever be over Buffy so quickly, even if he could be interested in a young, studious, British witch.
Which he would never be, she reminded herself, turning back to her empty scroll. Write, Hermione, she commanded. Think about your degree, not his sexy arse.
Five minutes later she threw her quill down in disgust. She wasn't going to get any work done tonight. Maybe a walk would help, let the cool air settle down her jumpy hormones. She grabbed her jacket, sticking her wand and a stake in the pockets. On a Hellmouth - even a relatively small one - a girl should always be prepared.
Hermione headed out the back of the hotel, slowly meandering down the walkway through the garden that surrounded the pool. The atmosphere was strangely tropical and quite unexpected in a mid-priced Cleveland hotel.
Still, the moonlit paths were good for walking, and thinking. Trying to clear her mind of inappropriate thoughts so she could get her thoughts back on track. She was Apparating home in the morning and would probably never see Spike again.
She stopped, closing her eyes to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. She'd be okay if she never saw him again - it was just a little crush, after all. Right?
A rustling in the bushes had her snapping to attention, one hand reaching for her wand and the other reaching for her stake. She'd look pretty silly if she ended up threatening a squirrel, but better safe than sorry.
Out of the bushes he emerged, as if he'd been conjured from her imagination. Spike. Snug black t-shirt, tight leather pants... Breathe, she reminded herself. Had to breathe.
But he smelled so good - fresh and musky, with just a hint of smoke from his cigarettes. Inhaling his scent was almost enough to send her into a fit of convulsions - which would really reveal her casual air as the pretense it was. She had the overwhelming urge to throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her. Which was ridiculous; she was much too sensible for that.
"Spike," she said, acting unnaturally cheery in an attempt cover up her true feelings.
"'Mione," he acknowledged, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep breath. "Should be careful out here. Never know what's gonna be lurking in the dark."
Hermione straightened, offended by his big-brotherly advice. She wasn't a child. She was a witch, and she could handle herself. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she insisted. "I'm a witch. I have my wand and my stake right here."
"You do?" he smirked. "A few years of witch school and a summer on a Hellmouth and you think you're ready to take on the supernatural big bads?"
His gaze never left her face, and she could have sworn she heard amusement in his voice. "I'm not going to go out looking for trouble, but if it finds me, I'm prepared."
"Really?" he growled. "Because there are things in the dark that would love to take a bite out of a sweet young thing like you."
Hermione shivered at his words. Did he have any idea the effect he was having on her? She was ready to drop her stake and offer herself to him right then and there.
She looked up at him, noticing the roguish gleam in his deep blue eyes. He did know what he was doing to her! If he was merely taunting her because he knew about her crush, she'd die... or at the very least, Apparate herself far, far away.
Hermione slipped her stake back into her pocket. Wouldn't do if she accidentally staked him because her mind wasn't on her wood. "You don't say," she commented, slowly moving in closer to his leather-clad body.
He smiled, tossing the butt of his spent cigarette to the ground. Despite her apparent innocence, she'd easily picked up on his hints. "Yeah. I say."
She stared up at him, her eyes wide with mock innocence. "Do you want a bite?"
Damn. The bit was brave. He'd have to reward her bravery. Spike yanked her to him in one quick motion, his lips rough against hers, ravishing her mouth.
Hermione was giddy with delight; this was what she'd been wanting all summer. Her mouth opened, welcoming his invasion. Her arms wrapped around his back, feeling the coolness of his skin through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. She pulled him closer, stifling a moan as his pelvis brushed up against hers. He was...amazing. She'd never felt anything like his possession.
Spike groaned at the sensation of her soft breasts against his chest, separated only by the thin layer of their clothing. Her tongue pushed against his, her lips nipping at his as she explored his mouth. It had been so long since he'd felt like this... he wanted to strip her naked and take her right there in the garden.
But he couldn't...
Spike settled his roaming hands at her waist, slowly gentling the kiss. He had to break this off before it was too late, and not in a way that could damage her fragile young ego. The young witch had let a tiger out of the cage, not knowing that she wasn't ready to deal with the consequences. He had to be the strong one, the mature one, and put the tiger back. Bloody hell!
"Pet," he murmured, stroking her hair. "We can't do this."
"Why not?" Hermione asked breathlessly. She wanted him desperately. Why was he stopping? She was on fire, needed him now.
"Shh." He held her tightly as her breathing slowed. "We got a bit carried away in the moment, I'd say."
"But I..." Dammit, she didn't know what to say. She was so churned up inside she couldn't think straight.
"Wasn't supposed to be so fast," he explained. "Then again, you weren't supposed to be so hot."
Hermione giggled. Imagine Spike, the sexiest man she'd ever met, referring to her as hot. Wild. "I... I don't know what to say," she admitted, still reveling in the sensation of being held in his arms.
"Nothing to say, pet. Nothing to explain. It just...was. But the timing's off."
She groaned, snuggling closer into his chest. "I have to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow."
"Yep." He smiled. "Need to use that great big brain of yours to figure out how to adapt our demon-fighting style to fighting evil wizards and the like."
She smiled, then frowned as she realized that tomorrow she'd be on a continent where he wasn't. "Why couldn't this have happened months ago?" she groaned.
"Timing wasn't right then either," he offered, one hand still playing with her tousled brown hair.
"But will it ever be?" she wondered. She didn't want this to be all she ever had with the sexy blonde vampire.
"Maybe one day," he pushed her back until he could look into her eyes. "If we're patient."
"Screw patience," Hermione grumbled. "I want snogging."
"We'll keep in touch," Spike promised.
The witch brightened at that thought. "Ooh! I can owl you."
Spike's eyes narrowed. "Owl me? Is that some sort of new slang for...something?" If it was, he didn't think he wanted to know what it meant.
Hermione laughed. "It's how witches and wizards send mail. By owl. You know, birds? We don't have telephones or the postal service at Hogwarts."
Spike sighed with relief. "Well, then. You can owl me." He gently stroked the side of her face. "And maybe, one day, the timing will be right... for both of us."
She smiled. Maybe one day... if they were lucky.