A/N: A short and unbeta'd Harry/Buffy fluff one shot, which could inspire more.

Has since inspired more. The sequel is entitled 'Our Man on the Hellmouth'

Edited for purposes of writing style, length and believability.

All things considered, Harry Potter was a rather depressed young man. His godfather was dead, he was stuck with the Dursley's and the Wizarding World seemed eager to grovel at his feet. He sat on the swings in the park and looked out at the cloudy sky.

"Destiny sucks, huh?"

Harry turned, to see a short, blonde, very attractive and sympathetic looking young American woman walking up towards him.

"What do you know about destiny?" He asked, less angry and more curious than he himself expected.

She sat down on the swing beside him and after a moment said, "When I was 14, I was a normal girl, obsessed with shoes, hair, lipstick, gossip and boys. Then I found I was suddenly much stronger, faster, more agile, more everything. It turns out that I was 'The Slayer'." She paused, eyed him, then continued, repeating what sounded almost like a prophecy, "'Into each generation is born a Slayer, one girl in all the world with the strength to fight the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness and stop the spread of their evil.' It's a calling with a high mortality rate, and it causes lots of other problems. My Watcher was murdered, and I burnt down the school gym to kill a lot of vampires. Then I got expelled and went to live in a nice town no one's heard of that happens to be on a portal to hell."

Harry raised an eyebrow in astonishment, and merely said, "Oh? And why are you telling me this?"

"I was told that there was some other kid who fate had it in for round here by some magic types. They thought it would help if you talked to someone who understood. Help us both," Buffy said. "One of them was short and her hair changed colour. I think she was called Tonks."

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay. You finish, and I'll show you mine."

Buffy laughed, and Harry blushed. "I didn't mean," he mumbled.

She pouted. "Way to disappoint me," she said, and Harry couldn't fail to laugh. She smiled sunnily and continued.

"Yeah. I first died when I was 16, strangled by an ancient vampire. Since then I've been fighting the good fight, dealing with my vampire-with-a-soul boyfriend who I can't have sex with ever because it releases his evil genius dark side and who I sent to Hell. Now I'm here because I have to deal with a bunch of tweedy old guys called the Watcher's Council. You could say things are complicated. What's your story?"

Harry eyed her in shock then said, "I'm a wizard. When I was one year old, my parents were murdered by a powerful Dark Wizard called Lord Voldemort. He seemingly died in the process of trying to kill me, and I got this scar," he pulled back his hair and tapped the famous scar.

"Who raised you?" Buffy asked.

"I was sent to my Aunt and Uncle's house, apparently because it was equipped with powerful blood wards despite the fact they hated anything magical and my Godfather had been framed for mass murder and the betrayal of my parents. After ten years of utter misery, I found I had magic and was sent to Hogwarts, a school for magic. It was like the home I'd never had, and I made great friends."

Harry smiled slightly. "Ron and Hermione. I'd never give them up for anything."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "Good friends are like that."

"They really are. Unfortunately one of my teachers was being possessed by the Dark Wizard who tried to kill me. The next year, I faced down a basilisk, a 60 foot long snake with a deadly gaze and equally deadly venom. The year after that, my framed Godfather escaped from a truly terrible prison. Then I got entered into a tournament the description of which featured the words 'mortality rate' by a Death Eater, one of my enemies servants, which led to me seeing one of my friends murdered in front of me and my enemy fully resurrected."

Buffy winced, remembering the near resurrection of the Master.

"All of this by the time I was 14. After that, the Ministry of Magic refused to believe he was back, demonised my Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He was the most powerful wizard on the planet, and they slandered him and I in the press. They tried to expel from the magical community for saving someone's life. Dumbledore stopped them. Then they sent one of their stooges to take over the school, forcing Dumbledore out. When I confronted her, I got this."

He clenched his right hand into a fist and showed it to Buffy, the words 'I must not tell lies' standing out with pale malice. Buffy took his hand and gently traced her fingers over the raised scars. Harry shivered at her light touch, then continued with the story. This American girl, this Buffy, was drawing it all out. Somehow. It felt good to talk to someone who understood.

"At the end of this last year, my Godfather, still a fugitive and hiding with a group called the Order of the Phoenix that Dumbledore set up, was killed because… well, I could give all the excuses I like, but I fucked up. Now I'm back with the people who hate me the most, but on the upside, at least the entire Wizarding World doesn't think I'm a fraud and 'disturbed'," Harry finished, a hint of black humour in his tone.

Buffy rubbed his back comfortingly, then said wryly, "and I thought I had it bad."

"Fairs fair, you've died and I haven't. That counts for a lot," Harry said with a dry smile.

"Here's hoping you don't, Wizard boy," Buffy said with a smile, leaning across and pecking him on the cheek to his immense surprise.

"It's Harry, miss Vampire Slayer," Harry replied, now grinning widely.

"Call me Buffy. I'll see you around," she said with a smile and a wave as she departed, leaving the swing rocking back and forth. Harry slowly raised one hand to his cheek and smiled.

"See you around, Buffy," he whispered to himself, then walked back towards the Dursley's as the sun set, back straight and ready for anything. He was not alone. And if someone else could bear it, then so could he.