Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer nor Harry Potter. All of the characters, settings, themes, books, show, titles, worlds, names, demons, witches, slayers, creation, references, and basic gist of the two fantasy worlds all belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Warner Bros., and of course, J.K. Rowling. All rights reserved.

Timeline: Story is set 1 year after Season 7 and five days before Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban. Just for possible future references, the story will be happening during Angel's Season 5.

Author's Notes: This'll be something short and sweet just to develop some essence between the characters.

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Chapter 13—Conclusions

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Professor Snape was having a marvelous day.

Yes indeed. Five Gryffindors sent to detention; nearly 80 points taken off from his rivaling house; and they just might win the Cup this year. Thank Merlin for that! I swear if I have to stand McGonagall's smug face I'll—

"Faster Wood, faster!"

…Wait, what?

"I'm getting tired, Professor. And my legs are starting to burn!"

Thump, thump.

"What did you expect, kid? Gotta…give it to you though. You've got great stamina. It'll get you places," Snape heard the feminine voice respond again. Hold on…was that Professor—

"Thanks Professor Summers," thump, thump, thump "Still can't believe…you're doing this with me."

It took a moment for the professor to respond, but when she did, it came out more as pant, "I'd do this for everyone, Wood. Change your angle a little bit. It gets better when you go a little higher…there that's it."

Several harder and faster thumps were heard after that, and he swore that he could hear the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain pant even harder.

By this time, Snape was nearly frozen outside the door, unable to tear himself from the ongoing conversation.

"That better, Professor…Summers?" again, her name came out more as a gasp…as if he's not having enough air.

What the hell was going on in there?

"Mm…much. Just call me Buffy when we're doing this, by the way."

"Only if you start calling me by my first name, " that dratted boy said almost suggestively. Snape started to get flustered by this…most inappropriate conduct. Summers would get fired for this! Yes. This day couldn't get any better!

"Go faster, Oliver. You're almost there!"

Ignoring the 'Busy. Catch Me Later' sign in front of the door, Snape opened the PD door with a loud bang, hoping to see the two in the act…only to see Mr. Wood suddenly getting hit with what looked like a ball covered by a leather bag that's attached to a low ceiling.

"Oh god, Oliver! Snape, look what you've done!" Summers pointed at the fallen boy, who was already getting a bruise from that still swinging…bag thing. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem? What about yours? This…relationship needs to stop," although he was starting to expect that he jumped to the wrong conclusion.

"Problem? Relationship? What in the heck are you talking about? You endangered the safety of my student and totally ignored the sign that was on my door!" Buffy shouted as she got a pack of ice for the moaning student. "I was just helping Oliver here to get some extra credit for my class, you nut case. He missed a one of my classes because—"

"—I slept in after a long Quidditch practice," the insolent boy finished lamely as he tried standing up.

Oh damn.

Snape sputtered unintelligently, "But I thought—…You two were—…"

"Were what, Snape?" the smaller Professor snapped.

Looking back and forth between the two, Snape could feel his cheeks warming from embarrassment. Trying to save himself from further digging his own grave, he quickly turned around as dignified as he could and stomped out of the dratted classroom. Blast that Slayer!

"…Was it me or did his face actually turn pink?"

"It's the end of the world, Professor."

"Eh, not a bad exchange."

…

Her fidgeting was causing both Harry and Ron to look at each other nervously. She never fidgets…not even when she had to do that twenty-minute presentation in Potions about the history and the pros and cons of some root or other. Actually, she was the only girl or guy up there who didn't stutter or twitch.

So why now?

"Uhm, Hermione? Are…are you okay?" Ron asked tentatively.

"Yeah. You seem a bit off lately… Something wrong? Bad grade? Trelawney getting on your nerves again? Really 'Mione, you should just give the old bat a—…its not about her is it?" Harry stopped when she saw the look his friend gave her.

"Thank you Captain Obvious."

"Then what's your problem then? You've been twitching ever since two days ago."

"It's just…it doesn't add up you know?"

Ron looked at Harry, perturbed. "What doesn't add up?"

"Professor Summers."

Both of the boys groaned. "Oh Hermione. Not again!"

"Look. Just hear me out, okay?" When they both reluctantly nodded, she continued on, "First, it was the whole hippogryff thing—now I know you don't think anything important happened, but there was something odd about the whole deal. Don't deny it Harry, Ron! Not even Hagrid could stay still for that long and he's been taking care of those creatures since day one! Besides, no one could've run that fast just in time to save Malfoy before anymore damaged can be done. Oh don't look so disappointed Ron. We all know what would've happened had that gone any further. Hagrid would've been fired faster than we can say 'accident.'

"Which brings us to that PD lesson awhile back ago. Has any one noticed how even though she ran faster than any of us, she had not one drop of sweat on her? I mean call me paranoid, but not even an Olympic runner could pull that off!"

"Olympic runner?"

"Uh…the Olympics are muggle games held every four years that's supposed to make the best of the best of muggle sports compete with each other. Track and field is one of the sports," Harry quickly explained. "But Hermione…she could've just done a simple spell or a charm. Something like an anti-sweating charm."

Hermione took note of this, but then remembered something. "True, but you heard her. You can't use any spells or potions in that class. Why would she do something quite the opposite?"

"Maybe because she's the professor? Maybe she hates being sweaty? Maybe—"

"That's too many maybe's Ronald."

"And all you have are speculations, Her-My-Own-EE," he enunciated.

"LOOK," Harry diffused the situation quickly. Seriously, some one needs to break the tension between those two. "Hermione might have a point here, but Ron is right. All you have are conclusions and circumstances, Hermione. If we are going to do something about all of this, we might as well have—"

"No magic."

"…say what?"

Hermione looked at them both with an excited gleam in her eyes. "No magic. Listen, have you two ever seen Prof—Buffy, use any magic? Any at all?"

"Well there was that…no.. But how bout…actually…No. Never."

"Well how's that for odd, Ron? Any professor we've had or hadn't had has used magic at least once in their career. But how about her? What's her excuse?"

"Hermione," Harry started pleadingly, "Buffy only teaches Physical Defense. There's nothing really anything to use magic for that. We all know that there's that no magic policy in her class. You just said that."

"Yes, but why the torch during the Hogwarts Express? Surely she could just say 'lumos' if she wanted to light up her way? It was pretty dark when the lights went out."

"Unless…light was something she didn't need," Ron suggested, making Hermione's eyes grow wide.

"Of course!"

"But what would she need the torch for?"

"I don't know," Hermione conceded, "but it doesn't matter right now. It all makes that much more sense, don't you see? With us not seeing Buffy use any magic at all, and that she has to use a possible charmed torch…she's a squib!"

A pregnant pause followed. "Bloody hell. If this gets out, who knows what'll happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, not a lot of people think that squibs have…a place in 'common' society. It's almost as bad as some people think muggle-borns are; like they're beneath them, and stuff…like what the Slytherins think. Sorry Hermione."

"None taken. But there's one more thing I don't get."

"What is it?"

She chewed her lip, "About two days ago, I saw Summers enter the Forbidden Forest. At night. Now, if she is what we think she is…then how in all things magical can she enter the Forest with nothing—not even a lit torch—and still come back unscathed the next day? And teach us?"

"You mean…you don't think she's an ally of Voldemort?"

They all looked at each other nervously. What they all just insinuated was beyond…serious. If they were all wrong, they could get into more than a couple of weeks of detention. They'd be the 'delinquents' who cried wolf and they would be labeled as just attention grabbers! But on the other hand, if she was a worker of Voldemort and did nothing about it, then they would have the responsibility of knowing about it but not doing anything about said information.

"We need to find out more about her then. Any history—newspaper articles, past jobs and experiences, where she lived. We might even have to spy on her, how, I have no clue. But if what Hermione said is right, then Hogwarts is in serious, serious trouble."

…

"His name was Poochie. He was a show dog. With matted fu-ur, around his neck—" a dangerous, low growl from Pooch to the right abruptly stopped Buffy's taunting song, causing her to laugh at him.

"Geeze, pup—okay, okay wrong name apparently. What do you want me to call you anyways? You don't like 'Pooch', calling you 'pup' is out of the question apparently, and 'dog' is just plain unoriginal. All I'm left is Gregory, Jack…Jacquine if you're a girl…" his short snap of a bark just destroyed that thought.

"Okay, not a girl. How bout…Black? Plain and simple…and very descriptive of you. Like…Black as night. Or Black the big black dog," Buffy mused to herself before shaking her head. "Nah. Reminds me too much of that Sirius Black fellow I'm supposed to look out for."

The dog suddenly perked up its ears, his dark eyes looking at her with utmost scrutiny.

"You wouldn't happen to be him, would you?" Buffy said; had there been any more light, she would've seen the eyes of the dog grow that much bigger and his fur bristle as in endangered.

"What am I thinking? The magic thing really gets to my head sometimes. Besides, any body who names their kid 'Sirius' has some serious issues!"

Sighing inaudibly, the mutt tried to tune out the girl's hysterical laughter at her own joke while he calmed his frayed nerves as well. Finally getting up with her 'tear-jerking' pun, 'Pooch' gruffly gave a sharp bark to stop her laughter.

"Oh come on! You at least have to think its funny!" If his disinterested snort was any indication, he apparently did not think it was remotely hilarious, but it didn't stop her from ranting on.

"Well, in any case. I pictured this Sirius guy with a bunch of mid-life crisis problems and graying hair."

Buffy swore the dog actually glared at her.

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Thanks for the awesome reviews and all the support! The next chapter already has some stuff going on, so…it shouldn't take THAT all long to update. Right?

(unedited version)