Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror
Chapter 3.

~*~

Arriving at their destination Giles nimbly hopped onto solid ground, Angel’s preternatural grace helping him keep his feet despite the added dead weight in his arms. Willow and Tara, holding onto each other tightly, only stumbled about a bit before setting each other to rights. Buffy, unfortunately, had no such luck, and landed face first on the cold flagstones after flailing over her own last season boots. The small group of people waiting just beyond the gates of surely the largest castle ever constructed were used to such and made no comment as they stepped out to greet them.

“Alright there, then?” Buffy heard as she levered herself up onto first her knees and then her elbows. Felt like she’d fallen ten stories instead of five feet and she blinked stupidly at the scuffed black shoes partially obscured by worn jeans before she had the thought to look up. ‘Wow’, her brain supplied after a long pause. A few years older than her and were his green eyes glowing? Not even the faint scar she could just made out on his forehead detracted from how hot this guy was.

“Um,” she managed. He was wearing a black nightgown sort of thing that fell to mid calf. Sort of like a graduation gown, but made of far more expensive material than the polyester hers had come in. His jean clad legs were poking out of the bottom and she suddenly connected his accent with the getup. Didn’t all British academics where the black robes? Had Giles brought them to a school?

“Here, let me help.” A hand in her armpit and Buffy drunkenly clambered to her feet.

Thankfully she shook off her disorientation quickly and smoothly thrust out her hand. “Thanks. I’m Buffy Summers.”

Major Hottie clasped her hand like a professional, firm, short and non clammy. “Harry Potter. Don’t worry about your landing. A Trans-Atlantic portkey would knock anyone for a loop.”

Okay, not a lot of that made much sense, but before Buffy could say anything back a woman’s authoritative voice drew her attention to the others that had been waiting for them. “I am Headmistress McGonagall and I welcome you to Hogwarts, School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. For however long you are here you will abide by the rules of the school, which includes no unsupervised wandering. I understand from Mister Giles that you are a special group of Muggles, but this is still most unorthodox, letting you into our school. Access will be restricted; you will at all times be with one of my staff. Any challenge to this will be met with most harshly.”

Harry moved back towards his own black robed group as the old woman spoke and Buffy did the same, instinctively seeking Giles’ closeness. McGonagall had the most gravity defying hat Buffy had ever seen perched on her wrinkled head, making her look every inch the witch she claimed to be. Who had ever heard of a school for witches?

“To my left is Professor Snape,” McGonagall gestured to the pale, thin man glaring at them all, “our Potions Master. Beside him is Professor Potter, Master of Dark Arts.” That hottie was an evil wizard? No way, Buffy shook her head. Evil wizards should look like Ethan Rayne, all shriveled up and one cigarette away from lung cancer. Where was the justice in the world? There was a skinny redhead next to him that McGonagall named Professor Weasley, of math of all things. “One of us shall be with you at all times. Now come along, Madame Pomfrey is waiting for us.”

She did not ask for any of their names, but maybe she already knew them, being a witch and all. Before turning away to head back up to the castle she glared long and hard at an oblivious Riley. The look she spared Angel was two hundred degrees colder and Buffy decided she really didn’t like the woman one bit.

~*~

Madame Pomfrey was the doctor of the school and she clucked her tongue at seeing Riley. A stick of wood came out of her pocket and garbled Latin came out of her mouth. Tendrils of florescent light spewed from the tip of what Angel realized must be a wand, enveloping Riley before Angel could jerk him away. “Do stop that, young man!” She snapped. “Put him there on the bed and step away so I can finish my diagnostic!”

“He’s my mate,” Angel growled, unwilling to set Riley down anywhere in this madhouse. The old witch who had preceded him into the infirmary made a choking sound from where she stood off to the side, but Angel didn’t flinch from her hateful glare. He didn’t know how these wizards operated or what they could sense. She probably knew him for a vampire and that was a hate he was long used to.

“It’s the spell I told you about, Headmistress,” Giles said as he came into the room with the dour wizard at his heels. The younger wizards had been left to entertain the girls, who all seemed keen to that idea. “It’s bound them together in some manner. Angel, Madame Pomfrey is a skilled healer. She’d never do anything to hurt Riley.”

“Of course not,” Pomfrey said in a softer tone, warmed by the blatant show of protectiveness. “You brought him here for help, so let me give it. Put him on the bed and take the chair next to it.”

The woman was obviously used to dealing with all manner of stubbornness because before he’d fully realized what he’d done Angel surrendered Riley to the bed and quietly sat. By no means of a spell he’d heard uttered, but he could not dismiss the twinkle in her eye. The others gathered around while Pomfrey continued to cast spells, McGonagall’s glare unrelenting. “Mister Giles, explain again how this happened and leave nothing out.”

From the knapsack Wesley had earlier lent Giles drew out the damning box and its contents, handing them to the older woman as he told her everything. No flicker of recognition graced anyone’s face at seeing the veiled mirror, which sank Angel’s spirits somewhat. No easy fix then. When Giles concluded with circumspect mention of their activities in the bathroom McGonagall practically blew steam out of her ears.

“You raped him!” She screeched, wand appearing in her hand and leveling at the frozen vampire with far more grace of speed than he’d expected.

“Minerva, calm yourself,” Snape growled. “No mentally healthy male you’d put the question to would consider being on the receiving end of a blow job rape. Lower your wand, woman!” he snapped, thrusting the mirror into her hands. “It sounds as though the mirror initiates a basic compulsion. They were used all the time on reluctant grooms who could not seem to overcome the physical drawbacks in their betrothed a century or so back. The marriage kiss would seal the spell that would not dissipate until consummation. By then no one cared if the newlyweds despised each other. I cannot believe you came all this way for what amounts to Binding Spells for Simpletons, Mister . . . Giles.”

“I am well aware of the nature of marriage bonds, Professor Snape,” Giles said with strained patience, “but this one is not.” He gestured at Riley’s sleeping figure. “Riley feels no reciprocal passion for Angel and such bonds don’t usually render the one comatose.”

“So you’re assuming this Spike individual was possessed of sufficient skill to properly execute the spell and not bollocks it all up?” Snape sneered. “What an astounding person this Muggle must be.”

“He’s over a century old, so yeah, he’s picked up a few things,” Angel defended his childe without thinking, disliking this man immediately for the implied insult to his Will. Not that he wasn’t going to flay the boy’s backside when he got his hands on him, but he was the only one permitted to malign his brat.

“It is a bonding,” Pomfrey spoke at last, lowering her wand. “The nature of these spells can greatly vary, but this one seems of the, oh, what was her name? The girl with that horrid complexion?”

“Claudette?” Snape guessed.

“No, that was the girl who ran afoul of that troll with the gout,” McGonagall disagreed. “Are you thinking of the girl with aunts?”

Pomfrey shook her head, however, sighing in frustration. “No, the trollop who slept with those house elves.”

“Ah,” Giles and Snape said at the same time. “Snow White.”

“Excuse me?” Were these people completely daft?

“It’s a binding spell of reciprocity,” Giles explained with a grimace. “A love spell of sorts that compels both parties to complete the bond lest they suffer the consequences. You kissed Riley and he kissed you back. Snow White had the spell cast on her by her step father. When she refused to go forward, she fell into a coma until another came along more to her tastes and repeated the spell.”

Angel stared at Riley’s mouth, at his soft lips slightly parted and paled from his fever. Just imagining that wide mouth stretched around his cock stirred his interest, but the boy was hardly in a state to return his earlier favor. How did they expect to go about this?

A pewter goblet was thrust under his nose, Pomfrey’s closed expression daring him to comment. “There’s a water closet just to the left of the hall. Don’t scrimp.”

It didn’t take Angel all that long to fill the goblet; just imagining bending Riley over his infirmary bed, dragging his jeans off those bony hips and drilling his ass sent him over. He came so quickly he blushingly wondered how long these kinds of things should take, straightening his clothing with trembling fingers. It wasn’t like he was actually performing, but he didn’t want to appear too quick to gun, so to speak. Perhaps five minutes would be good. Yes, he’d wait another five minutes before leaving the little closet bathroom.

Before he quit the room, however, he needed to do one more thing. Biting into the side of his palm he dripped blackened blood into the cold semen, swirling them together with a finger. If he had been possessed of his normal faculties he’d never think to dousing Riley, so very afraid of the risks. Vampire’s blood had binding properties all its own, after all, that would tie the blond to him long after the mirror’s spell was broken. A few drops more and Riley would be what others before Angel had labeled ‘thrall’, ‘human servant’, ‘pet’. Such cold words for an act of love that would keep his beloved with him forever.

Angel clenched his fist a little tighter. So much blood his semen was now a dark pink but he doubted those waiting would know to question it. If there was a voice screaming in his head not to do this he did not hear for the roaring of the spell that deafened him to all else. Riley had already shared his blood, putting him two behind the vampire.

When he rejoined the group standing about the bed Pomfrey made to take the cup from him, but Angel just growled. Giles calmed the two women, McGonagall looking murderous, but Angel could not care. Snape was smirking as Angel sat on the bed and lifted Riley up against his chest. He nuzzled the boy’s sweat dampened neck, but when Riley moaned at the touch McGonagall started up her squawking again so he reluctantly backed off. Why had Giles had them come here again?

Riley’s nose wrinkled when the cold lip of the goblet pressed his mouth wider. He choked and tried to jerk away at the first taste, but he’d nowhere to retreat with Angel’s shoulder and arm pinning him in. His moans then were discomfited, squirming helplessly as Angel whispered soothing words and forced him to swallow every slimy, clotted drop.

A hand shot up, gripping his thick wrist, and Angel grinned because not all of Riley’s discomfort was caused by the bitter, coppery seed. The boy’s jeans did nothing to hide his sudden erection and only their audience kept Angel from lending assistance. As it was the boy’s own hand tried to rip open his jeans, but Giles stopped him, grimacing sympathetically at Riley’s choked wail. Still, better than how the boy would feel when he finally opened his pretty hazel eyes and found out he’d jacked off in front of a crowd of strangers.

“Alright then,” Pomfrey said once Angel had lifted the cup away, thumb wiping off a betraying smear of whitish red before he eased back. Riley’s cheeks were flushed, his arousal still prominent, but the healer said something again in Latin and leather straps came out from beneath the mattress, restraining his wrists. “Mister Finn needs quiet now and should wake up on his own in about an hour, so you all need to leave. You as well, Mister Angel,” she snapped at his rebellious glower. “This is an infirmary, not a social gathering, and my patients do their best with quiet. So all of you, out. When he wakes you can come back, for a little while.”

~*~

When they came into the suite of rooms that had been set aside for their use near the infirmary Harry gratefully leapt to his feet. He’d been hemmed in by the three girls, all firing questions at them, and Percy, who was about ready to start hexing if that Buffy girl jostled him one more time trying to touch Harry. The two other girls had been relentless in asking about the school, the type of magic practiced, anything and everything their cute little heads could think of. Percy, who normally loved to lecture the uneducated, was obviously conflicted about spilling to a bunch of nosy Muggles, leaving it to Harry to answer as best he could. Never in his life had Harry been so excited to see Snape walk into a room and he practically leaped to hide behind the older professor.

Giles and Angel thankfully made no comment, but that might have had more to do with the death grip the older man had on the vampire. From what they’d been told the young man they’d brought in was the vampire’s mate. Bit of bad luck that, falling afoul some magical mirror, but Harry drew his line of sympathy at being assaulted by a bunch of estrogen happy females.

“Snape, the young ladies here were most curious about how our magic works. Willow and Tara are apparently quite skilled themselves in Muggle magic.” From behind the older wizard Harry not so subtly nudged him forward.

For a skinny rail Snape proved astonishingly difficult to manhandle, however, the Potions Master not budging an inch. “I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain the intricacies of true magic to Muggles who have demonstrated all the aptitude of their simian brethren in learning a couple of parlor tricks. Mister Giles may derive some form of amusement from their paltry antics, but I see no gain in lowering my standards to his plebian sensibilities.”

Willow and Tara shrank back beneath his spiteful words, but Buffy leapt to her feet, ready to defend her friends. Even Harry, who had long grown deaf to Snape’s vicious tongue started to object, but Giles stepped in first. “Severus, that’s enough! Mister Potter, Angel needs sustenance. Please see to it.”

The baleful hate in Snape’s eyes would have petrified a normal soul, but Giles just seized his wrist in hard grip and yanked the smaller man after him as he charged out the door. Silence was left in their wake for a few brief minutes until Buffy’s anger loosened her tongue.

“That evil shit is actually allowed to teach children?” Her tone implied how barmy she thought the idea was, but Harry just shrugged.

“The Ministry tried to sack him once, but all his old students objected. Snape is an institution. They couldn’t bear the thought of future generations going without. He’s a rite into adulthood if you survive.” The young professor stared at the door as though trying to see through it. “A bit moody today, but he was trying to be nice.” He swung back around to smile at the girls’ shocked faces, patting his hand against his thigh. “Trust me. If he restricts himself from your parentage and ancestry back time immoral, he’s holding back.”

“Which he rarely does,” Percy added, eeling around the various girls until he was again at Harry’s side.

Harry glanced over at the vampire who’d retreated into the shadowed corner nearest the door, his attention obviously focused somewhere beyond this room. Poor bugger. Harry didn’t want to imagine how he’d be in similar straits. A tentative voice pulled him back around, the redhead, Willow, leaning up from petting her girlfriend’s hair.

“Professors, what’s a Muggle?”

“A Muggle is a non-magical person, what you all are,” Percy obviously felt that question was safe enough to answer. “Muggles aren’t supposed to know about the Wizard world that exits alongside their own.”

That earned a frown from the girl, her shoulders shoving back with a self-righteousness that reminded Harry of his best friend Hermione when she was preparing to defend the downtrodden. “But Tara and I are witches. We can cast spells.”

Nodding agreeably, Harry settled onto the wooden bench backed up near the wall. A safe distance from Buffy and her attentions though the girl looked more inclined to sulking at the moment and glaring at the oblivious Angel for whatever reason. Percy’s slender figure stole the warmth from his right side. “There are all different kinds of magic. When I talk about wizards and witches, the kind that attend Hogwarts, I mean those who have an innate magic. Muggle witches tap into magic outside of themselves, calling on various entities to lend their power to the casting. There is nothing wrong with that, but the wizards here are possessed of a magical spark all their own. You may brew a potion and bless it, in say Isis’ name, but a Hogwarts witch’s same potion will be far more potent because she infused it with her own magic.”

“How do you know if the magic put into the spell really came from invoking Isis or unconsciously using your own magic?” Willow shrewdly asked, unwilling to abandon the possibility that she and Harry were of the same cloth. Percy snorted at the ignorance of the question, but thankfully kept his opinion to himself.

After three years of teaching, however, Harry was long used to questions such as these from his Muggle born students. “There are tests to determine the power of a wizard. Many Muggles have a small amount of magic that they use unconsciously, their ‘sixth sense’. Wizard children all over the world, however, often display more obvious magic growing up, such as knocking things over or summoning a toy. Some wizard children are born to Muggle parents. Here at Hogwarts there are pureblood kids, those who descend from generations of wizards, and Muggle born.”

Harry scratched his ear, wondering just how deeply he wanted to delve into a topic that was debated today among Wizard scholars. “Some think wizards are of an entirely different species from Muggles, capable of cross breeding. Others ascribe a more religious view, but no one really knows how a wizard can suddenly pop up in a Muggle line. Anyway, every wizard school in the world has a book that records all wizard births in their domain and at a designated time, the child is invited to the school. For Hogwarts, that is at eleven, which is about average.” He glanced at each of the girls. “Did either of you get a letter?”

Both shook their heads, Willow looking quite inconsolable over the fact though Harry really couldn’t give a damn. Maybe ordering everyone some dinner would shut them up.

~*~

Dragged along in Giles’ wake Severus tried to twist free, cursing and spitting until the other man abruptly spun about. Before Severus could react he was yanked forward, over the larger man’s shoulder, a hard smack to his bottom felt even through the layers of clothing.

“Let me down right now, you flea infested cur!” Severus raged, fumbling for his wand.

“One more insult, Severus, and I swear I will spank you for real. And you can think again about using that wand.” Another whack forced a grunt from him and he cried out his frustration when his wand tumbled away with an “Accio wand” from his captor. Giles chuckled.

~*~

Of all the desired ways to wake up Riley decided this was not one of them. Head throbbing, absolutely wretched taste in his mouth, restrained and no idea where he was. Groaning softly he rolled his head on its pillow, taking in the white curtains that surrounded him, the small bedside table bare of anything to clue him in to where he was. The pungent, sweet earthy smell was vaguely familiar, but he was certain he’d never been to this place before.

The curtain at the end of the bed suddenly jerked open, startling Riley to try and scramble back towards the headboard only to be painfully jerked back down by the leather straps. The ramrod straight, austere witch stared at him down the long line of her nose like he was a most irritating gnat she was preparing to squash. Not the first face a guy liked to see waking up, but unfortunately not an unfamiliar one.

“Nana?”


TBC.