Disclaimer: I fully disclaim these characters.
Thanks to dragonfly123, for not forgetting me and being an awesome beta.
Taking a Stab at Normalcy
Buffy Summers stared at each of the sixteen outfits she had thrown on her bed, completely overwhelmed. She was the girl who could fight off twenty vampires with one hand tied behind her back, or chop the head off of many a creepy demon on her way to the dentist, yet she couldn't even pick out a simple outfit for a simple first date. This inability to choose that she was suddenly facing went against her very nature as a California girl, and she was disgusted with herself.
"Willow," she whined, stomping into the training room the Headmaster had been so kind as to attach to her bedroom. Buffy stood in the doorway and pouted, but neither Willow Rosenberg, who was working on getting herself adjusted to the magic of Hogwarts, nor Faith, who was working out her jet lag on an unfortunate punching bag, took notice of her.
"Wil-low," she whined again, folding her arms over her chest and trying to exude the pathetic 'help-me' vibe that worked so well for her in cemeteries. She waited, but Willow was so absorbed in her magic that Buffy remained unnoticed. "Will!" she snapped.
"Gah!" Willow yelped, jolted out of her reverie. A bolt of magic shot from her fingers and hit the chain that was holding Faith's punching bag to the ceiling, causing it to crash to the floor. Faith jumped back in shock, grabbed a dagger out of her boot, and threw it in the direction from whence the potential threat had come. The three women froze as the weapon flew across the room and embedded itself in the wall a quarter of an inch away from Willow's ear.
The two Slayers and the Witch stared at the dagger in horror for a full minute, until Buffy caught a glimpse of the clock that was a quarter of an inch away from Willow's other ear. "Omigod!" she cried, "I've only got half an hour and I'm totally not even dressed yet!"
Faith sighed. "Calm the hell down, B, we'll get you all done up for your little boy-toy."
Buffy paled and spun to face her. "No! No boy-toy! Do you think he thinks that? Does he think I think he's going to – that we're going to –"
"No, B, I'm sure he knows how innocent and virtuous you are," Faith said, rolling her eyes. "No doubt your reputation precedes you."
Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Why was that sarcasm?" she demanded. "I'll have you know that I am full of innocence and virtue." She paused, and thought, then continued. "Except for all those times I died, and killed things, and stuff, but it's hard to stay virtuous and innocent in Sunnydale!"
"Right," Faith drawled, "and getting boned by multiple vampires has left your innocence and virtue all intact."
Buffy glared at her. Faith glared right back, and they glared at each until Willow tentatively raised her hand. "Um, hello?" she said, "almost died, here? Just got a dagger thrown at my head?"
The Slayers continued glaring at each other until Buffy glanced at the clock again. "Omigod!" she gasped. "Now I've only got twenty-five minutes! I've still got goop from that mutant slug in my hair, and I can't get it out because I can't reach –"
"God, B, keep your panties on. Me and Red'll help you, no problem." Faith left to go investigate Buffy's wardrobe and the blonde Slayer trailed behind her, touching her hair worriedly.
"It's okay, guys, I'm fine," Willow said, yanking the dagger out of the wall and throwing it at the punching bag in irritation. It clattered to the ground a good three feet from its target, and she glared at it. "Don't defy me, you big jerk" she threatened, and levitated it and flung it into the bag with a flick of her wrist. She smiled in satisfaction and went to go assist her friend.
"Green, or blue?" Harry Potter asked, holding up two sweaters for his friends' approval.
"I cannot believe you are going on a date with the woman you are supposed to be protecting, Harry," Hermione Granger replied, her voice dripping with disapproval. Her boyfriend, Ron Weasley, rolled his eyes. "She's the bloody Slayer, 'Mione, she doesn't need protection. I'd wager she could kick his arse back to seventh year, if she really wanted to."
Hermione glared at him. "You only like this idea because you think she's pretty."
Ron glared back at her. "No, that's only one of the reasons why I think it's a brilliant idea. Harry needs to start dating again, don't you think?"
"Green, or – " Harry tried, but was interrupted.
"Well, obviously, Ron, I think Harry should start dating again, but that doesn't mean that he should throw himself at the first pretty girl he sees. Especially not one he's just rescued. Emotions run high when a person rescues another person, and these emotions are always associated, incorrectly associated, mind you, with the other person in the situation! It has been documented millions of times, and this is a classic case." Hermione sat back, proud of herself, while Ron gaped at her.
"Do you hear yourself?" he asked. "You sound like a bloody maniac."
"D'you guys think I should wear the green, or the –"
Hermione sniffed. "I beg your pardon, Ronald, but I resent the implication that I am anything less than a fully capable witch. In fact, we both know that I am far more capable than you in matters of – "
"Oi!" Harry shouted. Ron and Hermione turned to look at him and he held up the sweaters again. "Green, or blue?"
Ron shook his head. "I think you should go with one of those smarmy leather vests, nothing underneath. For some reason, the ladies like your muscles."
"Ron!" Hermione cried, horrified. Harry stared at him in disbelief. Hermione quickly recovered, turned her attention to Harry, and said, with complete authority, "Green. It matches your eyes."
"Just a minute," Ron said, looking mildly jealous. "You've been cheating on me with my best mate?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Ron, I only know the color of his eyes. The entire world knows the color of his eyes. Are you going to accuse the entire world of cheating on you with Harry?"
"I'm not bloody dating the rest of the world, 'Mione. You are off your rocker."
Harry tuned his friends out and decided on the green. Thinking back to their first meeting, he remembered that Buffy seemed particularly captivated by the color of his eyes, and due to his present level of insecurity, that was something he needed to exploit. He pulled on the sweater, ran his fingers through his hair a few times, and headed out the door.
"Ron, would you quit turning so red, it's not at all healthy for you. Oh, now look what you've done, Harry's off to his date and we didn't even wish him good luck. This is all your fault."
"Sure, blame it all on me. This has nothing to do with you being such a bloody know-it-all, even after –"
"A know-it-all? Ron Weasley, you…"