Hermione refused to give in to the overwhelming urge to shriek to the high heavens. It had been only five months since Hogwarts had entered into an Alliance with the Watcher’s Council and it felt as if she had never had a moment’s peace since then.

The brilliant witch flew into the infirmary and came to a stop directly in front of the bruised and bloody fourth year student who was responsible for the recent mess. Dave O’Connor was a Ravenclaw who had a smart mouth and a bit of a temper. The logical part of her brain did point out that while he may be a brat he rarely started a fight.

She took in his appearance in silent disapproval as the brunette shifted before her. One of his hazel eyes was darkened and blood dripped from his broken nose. His left arm hung limply at his side, and her sharp eyes took in the wince he made as he shifted position. Once she had assessed that he was not hurt in any way that could be construed as life threatening she began.

In a voice as soft as the wind she inquired, “Do you care to explain to me exactly what happened between you and Ms. Corin?” Hermione could see out of the corner of her eye that the young slayer was purple and covered in tentacles.

“It was an accident Ma’am honest. Kevin accidentally hit her during training when he fell and she threw him into the wall!”

Faith rounded on the young slayer in her charge, “Is that true Anne?”

“I didn’t mean to throw him into the wall!” the fifteen year old Italian protested, “Dios, I’d just forgotten about my increased strength.”

“You’ve been here a month Anne, that’s no excuse. We’ll figure out a suitable punishment later. You could have seriously hurt someone.”

“I know ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“As for you,” Hermione rounded on the Ravenclaw “30 points off for using magic in the corridors. The only reason this punishment isn’t more severe is because you didn’t use any magic that could have been painful or detrimental to Ms. Corin’s health.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Upon seeing that both teenagers looked appropriately contrite Hermione caught Faith’s eye and motioned for the door. As Faith headed out of the infirmary Hermione turned to her long time friend who was also the Chief Healer of Hogwarts.

“Ron I leave them in your capable hands.”

Ron’s eyes twinkled as he reached for two of his ‘special potions’. They were actually an amalgamation of disgusting ingredients meant to do nothing more than discourage students from wanting to land in the Healer’s Wing another time. After which he’d wave his wand and reverse the effects of the spell and cure their injuries. If she wasn’t mistaken those particular vials were filled with apple cider vinegar and mustard-watermelon flavoured liquids respectively.

A few floors down Hermione turned to apologize to one of the heads of the Watcher’s Council.

“Don’t worry about it,” Faith shrugged the incident away. “Anne needed to be taken down a peg anyways. She kept thinking she was better than everyone. Dave – that is his name, right? - saved me a few bruised knuckles.”

Hermione chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

As they wandered down the corridors of Hogwarts Hermione wandered down her own version of memory lane. The past few months had certainly changed everything. She could still remember the day the Alliance between the two institutions went into effect…

The 27 year old Unspeakable headed to the Hogwarts entrance hall. She was eager to meet four of the seven people on the newly re-formed Watcher’s Council. As she strode into the entry way she paused for a moment to take in her new allies:

Rupert Giles: by far the oldest of the group, although he was far from old. He was about Remus’ age and he had the look of a kindly British librarian about him, right down to the tweed coat. However when she caught a look at his haunted brown eyes she knew then that he was a man with power who had also seen horrors no one should ever have to live through.

Her gaze quickly drifted over to the only other man in the room, Alexander Harris, though he went by ‘Xander’. He was tall, and built. He was boyishly handsome with dark hair and one sparkling brown eye, although a patch covered up what she knew to be an empty socket. He was supposed to be the strategy expert of the group, and she had been warned not to be lulled into thinking he was less than he was by his sense of humour and his disarming personality.

Next to catch her eye was the vivacious brunette. This woman was The Slayer in this group and in charge of training the girls who would be brought to this castle if the Alliance went through. She kept herself in control but Hermione held no doubt that the woman knew how to kill. As long as she stayed on their side it didn’t bother Hermione. After all she was still one of Harry Potter’s best friends and hell knew he had blood on his hands. It might not be innocent blood, but it was blood all the same.

The last person she saw was the redhead. Vibrant red hair flowed around her shoulders in waves. Thanks to her years with Harry she could practically feel the magical aura the woman was giving off. This would be the woman who could work wandless magic in the group. The witch, who, as rumour had it, nearly destroyed the world. The woman who had altered the slayer line for eternity, changing all the potential slayers into slayers for real. The one who’d enabled this Alliance in the first place.

Hermione stepped out of the shadows, “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

Rupert Giles spoke first, “Would you be Ms. Hermione Granger?”

“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Mr. Giles, I presume?” She stretched out her hand for him to grasp and smiled when he accepted.

“I have a feeling this is going to be a most fruitful alliance.”

It had proved to be very helpful to both parties. Hogwarts staff simply extended the parameters of the magical device they used to locate new first year magical students to also locate slayers worldwide. Those on the American continents were left to Buffy and her crew to pick up, train, and then dispatch to create more training facilities and headquarters across the two continents. Those who weren’t in the Americas were picked up by Giles and brought to Hogwarts to be trained by Xander, Faith, and Willow.

In return Willow taught all those who could be taught wandless magic, and Faith taught many forms of fighting in addition to keeping the students in shape. There wasn’t a student who wouldn’t be able to run for their lives because they were out of shape and tired easily. Not even the first years were given much slack.

In addition to which the students were taught demonology and the purebloods gradually learnt (at times forcefully) a tolerance for muggles. Some even developed friendships. Both sides shared information, and helped the other with their own wars. Aurors had already taken on some Uber-Vampires escaping from the Hellmouth in Cleveland and Slayers had already defended St. Mungo’s from Death Eater attacks.

Yes, it most certainly was a fruitful alliance. Even if it was a gigantic headache. Well, it wasn’t like she wouldn’t have had one anyways with this bloody war. These days she really missed Minerva. In these past few years, those working to fight the war had become very close. Titles, between friends and close allies, no longer applied.

Faith’s southern tones flowed through her and pulled her out of her sombre thoughts into the present.

“I don’t know about you but I’m starving. I could really go for a steak. What say you, oh divine Headmistess?”

“I don’t know about some steak but I could definitely use some chocolate.”

“Sounds just fine to me.”

The Great Hall was a bustling hub of activity. Several more long tables had needed to be included over the past seven years, and now the houses freely intermingled among all of them. It was, to say the least, a relief to take a breath away from all that rivalry.

Nowadays the house rivalry was more playful and done in order to let off some steam. There wasn’t a single person in the room who didn’t have bigger issues to deal with than which house won the cup.

With that said, it was a school and school rivalries would persist under even the most stringent of conditions. It was rather nice to find a shred of light-hearted competition beneath all the tension and hysteria that Hermione could only be grateful for it.

She slid in beside Draco at the elongated staff table. At times like these it seems ages ago that they were rivals. He really was a precocious little snot at the time, however. And a prejudicial one at that.

“How was Arithmancy?”

“It was fine. The NEWT students are a pleasure. Defence Against the Dark Arts second years, which you have me handling at the moment are a bloody nightmare.” He tossed his head in half-feigned agitation.

“I know. It’ll only be this way for another year or so,” she routinely placated him.

“Mhmm,” the former ice prince of Slytherin made a disbelieving noise in the depths of his throat. “Minerva and you have been saying that for the past four years.”

Half a year later it was easier to speak of her than it had been. Severus, however, was a hurt a touch more recent. He’d never been a nice man and he was cutting until the end. Yet, he was one of the people she respected most – and she knew a good deal of people worthy of her respect.

“Well, you’re quite good at them. And we have trouble finding constant Defence teachers as it is. You know that everyone chips in. Once we have a steady Professor than you will be free not to teach th-.”

“Little blighters,” he muttered.

Faith nearly choked on her mashed potatoes (a feet which should be impossible), Xander’s shoulder’s began to shake from where he sat beside Draco, and Filius’s eyes twinkled from his position beside Faith. That man’s hearing was far too accurate – a fact she’d learned only after she’d joined the Hogwarts staff in order to help the coming generations.

Merlin, she had far too much work.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked the aristocrat. She was careful not to reveal her own amusement or agreement at his assessment.

“Nothing, nothing,” he waved away his words as unimportant and deftly turned the topic back to the argument at hand. “Hermione there is a reason I teach third years and up. The ones below are little snots – and of the little snots the second years are the worst. They are the ones I can terrify the least. The first ones are at least shaking in their boots and it takes them at least a half a year before they truly misbehave. The second years on the other hand –“

“Draco,” Hermione sang, “You’re starting to repeat yourself.”

“Sod off book brain.”

“Shove it you presumptuous employee,” and she turned her nose up in the air in an excellent impression of his attitude as a schoolboy.

“Witch.”

“Lizard.”

As they descended into insults the staff table joined the rest of the student body in the laughter they could indulge in, even as the outside world was increasingly full of turmoil and death.

It was these people’s, muggle and magical alike, ability to laugh even in the face of death that had them survive to fight time and time again. It had them pick up the pieces. It had them winning. It kept their spirits strong – and they certainly weren’t bout to give up on it now.

The familiar nightmare began again.

A red light flashed a black veil fluttering in non-existent breeze. Voices called out in enchanting whispers, insane cackles, and heart wrenching agony…

White sheets twisted between clenched fingers as sleek muscles grew taut with the strain.

The ground was blackened, burned to a crisp. The blood and gore that filled the lake absorbed the feeble sunlight. An unseen raven cried from the tops of some unknown dark branch as the seen of destruction became clearly visible.

Dark hair was matted with sweat as the images began to come faster. They pounded into the person’s chest with the force of a stampede. Eyes closed tight in an effort to block out the nightmares that played behind those closed lids.

Vampire fangs ripping into a child’s slender neck as blood dripped down its pointed chin. The young ones eyes were wide open, and glassy as the spark of life fled from them leaving behind a face frozen in terror. Stone exploded, and metal speared the charcoal ground. Cries echoed across the ruins. Black shrouded death darkened the sky to feast on purest souls… and a familiar face frozen in terror…

Thousands of miles away from his homeland, a young man with old eyes was violently thrown out of a dream only to wake up with his body soaked in a cold sweat. Images from his past haunted him every night but those last visions were different. They were scenes that hadn’t happened yet, but would happen soon. He had to get home soon, for the last face he’d seen, belonged to one of the few he called family.