Title: Forgiveness
Author: Krista/belladonnalin
Rating: PG? PG-13? maybe, because of language
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Willow/Hermione (BTVS/HP Crossover)
Summary: Willow meets a certain dark-haired witch in her search for forgiveness
Feedback: Please? Send to belladonnalin@livejournal.com
Archive: sure, if you want it. just let me know.
Author's Notes: This takes place approximately 5 years after the end of season 6 in BTVS - Willow got her magic under control in England, but never went back. It is also approximately 5 years post-Book 7 in the HP 'verse. It's short, it's not fully flushed out, but I like it.
Disclaimer: BTVS is owned by Joss Wheadon, WB, Mutant Enemy, etc. HP is owned by JK Rowling. Also known as people who aren't me. I'm just borrowing. Answer to a challenge from marvelgirl, a fic that must start with the line: "I'm no fucking Buddhist, but this is enlightenment." Not your normal 'verse, but ... enjoy.

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"I'm no fucking Buddhist, but this is enlightenment ..." Willow breathed as she stared at the page she had just flipped to in the heavy tome she had open on the table. She turned the book over and read the title again, hardly believing that she was reading the words written on these pages. "Dark Witches and Wizards of the 20th and 21st Century ..." she trailed off.

Willow knew what she would find in these pages when the text was set down in front of her. She knew, even before she read the title, that there would be a truth in these pages that she had been combing the world for five years to discover. The minute the witch had walked into the bookshop with the strange name in the alley that had reeked of magic so strong that she was sure that all kinds of non-magic people could feel it, she knew that her search was finally ending.

Realizing that reading such an obviously magical book in a public place might be somewhat foolhardy, Willow looked up and discretely scanned the crowd in the crowded pub. When she had heard a womyn with a strange, long cloak and oddly-shaped hat say the name of the pub as she was entering it only a couple of days previously, Willow had hoped that she was heading in the right direction, but had expected the worst. "The Leaky Cauldron, indeed," she had smirked. "Probably a bunch of bake-sale-having, no-spell-casting New Agers or something."

Once Willow stepped inside the pub, her opinion had changed rapidly. There was magic in this room that was so strong that she could taste it, could smell it on the waves of air floating out of the opened door. Willow didn't know these people, obviously didn't fit into their world, but there was definitely nothing that these people had in common with the hippie chicks from Sunnydale U.

Shaking her head, Willow had to smile ruefully at her arrogance only a few days earlier. She had been traveling for five years all over the world, floating in and out of magical communities, meeting with werewolves, changelings, shamans, and even giants. If she could accept those worlds, she should have been prepared for the reality of an entire wizarding community that she had never even entered into.

After ascertaining that she was not attracting undue attention, Willow returned to her book. "Voldemort, Lord Born Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort (commonly referred to as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named" rose to power ..."

"Interesting reading?" a somewhat sharp voice interrupted. Willow looked up, startled and angry, her eyes flickering briefly to near-black. She was surprised to see a young-looking, attractive brunette womyn with wild curly hair standing in front of her with her hands on her hips. For some reason, Willow had connected that sharp interruption with a withered hag, not a girl who looked like she could scarcely be in her 20s.

"Yes," Willow stated flatly, trying to appear as unfriendly as possible so she would not have to meet anybody in this place. "It is interesting. A whole different world."

"Perhaps," said the brunette, her tone softening a little. She motioned to the chair across from Willow's and tilted her head. "Would you mind if I join you?"

"Well ..." Willow shifted uncomfortably. Her attempts to make no impression at all in this place had obviously already failed. The only thing she could hope for at that point was to minimize the damage. "I suppose so."

Taking the seat, the womyn examined Willow carefully, then her eyes widened, as if realizing something vital. "I haven't introduced myself yet, have I? I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger." She extended her hand with a small smile.

Willow took the proffered hand, while her brow furrowed slightly. She knew that name from somewhere, she was certain of it. "Hermione? Hermione Granger ... why do I know that name?" she mused quietly.

Hermione's sharp hearing picked up the half-mumbled question. "Perhaps because you're reading my book?" she suggested, with a small twinkle in her eyes, which were still guarded, but more friendly by the moment.

Willow took in her breath sharply, flipping the book she had been so engrossed in over. Indeed, on the cover underneath the title, the words "Hermione Granger, OOP" were emblazoned.

"OOP?" she questioned, her head still reeling from this new information. "What does that mean?"

"Order of the Phoenix," Hermione answered briefly. "A very long story - at least to tell from someone so outside of our world. Isn't that so ... Willow?"

Willow looked up, her eyes darkening briefly again. Ever since that day, since the day she had flayed Warren, she could feel the darkness raise inside her any time she was scared, angry, irritated, or taken off guard. It had been a long time since the darkness had taken over, since her control had slipped, but in conversations like this one, she was always reminded of how easy it would be to let go.

"How did you know?" she hissed, staring around at the surrounding tables.

"I wrote the book, Willow Rosenberg. My research was nothing if not thorough and there were a great number of pictures to be found of you. It's been a few years, but you look pretty much the same," Hermione answered, trying to soften the words that she knew had to hurt. This womyn had been running, hiding, trying to get away from the specter that followed her around from the actions of one day. No matter how long it had been, to some people, Willow would always be The Witch That Tried To End The World.

Willow sighed. "I had been afraid to look and see if I was here. I knew I could be, that I probably was ... but I was just too scared."

"Look at the entry, Willow," Hermione suggested, suddenly taking the smaller womyn's hand in her own. "See for yourself how you are seen."

Willow stared at this young womyn, not sure where Hermione had picked up the audacity to speak to a complete stranger this way. Not only a complete stranger, Willow reminded herself bitterly, a complete stranger who was dangerous. Still, she had to respect this crazy-haired witch for the passion with which she believed.

Willow nodded, not sure why she was suddenly taking suggestions from complete strangers. Maybe it was because the girl already knew what Willow would find. Maybe it was because she was just so tired of searching for meaning for the past six years. Maybe it was because Willow knew that the image she had tried so hard to lose, the answers to the questions she had barely been able to ask, were here. Maybe, she admitted wryly to herself, it was because Hermione was so attractive and reminded Willow a little of who she used to be, earnest and smart.

Maybe, she chuckled a little to herself, it was because she hadn't had sex in a long, long time.

Flipping the pages with the hand that was not still being grasped by the little witch, Willow slowly turned to the entry that she had both longed and dreaded to read. "Rosenberg, Willow ..."

Willow alternately felt tears and regret rush to the surface as she read the entry, which was longer than any except Lord Voldemort's. It was all there - Willow's friendship with Buffy and Xander, the relationship with Oz, her hacking days, her dabbling with magic, the fact that she was an untrained, wandless witch who had done great things. Re-souling Angel, botched potions, restoring Tara's memory, defeating Glory, resurrecting Buffy ... it was all there.

Then, the pain came, as Willow knew it would. The story, all of the story from the bullet wound in Tara's chest to Xander's speech on the bluff, was in this book, for people to buy, to pick up as they picked up romance novels.

Willow's hands tightened in anger as she read the paragraphs. She looked up at Hermione and spat out, "Why? Why the HELL would you tell me to read this? Is it revenge? Do you want to be able to go tell your friends that you got to watch the Wicked Witch of Sunnydale read her own life story?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "Finish it, Willow. Finish reading."

Willow looked down at the last paragraph, "... after spending three months in England with a powerful Wiccan coven, Willow Rosenberg decided that she could not return to La Boca del Inferno (the Hellmouth) and began traveling around the world. To a casual observer, it would appear that her travels have been random, but this author believes that she is searching for her retribution - retribution that many would say she has long past earned."

Willow looked up, amazed. "You? What?"

Hermione shrugged. "I knew who you were from the minute you got a room here, Willow. I know your life - hell, I did my thesis for my MA in Defense Against Dark Arts on you - on the gray areas between Light and Dark. I know what you've done, maybe better than you know. And I did the one thing that it seemed like you could never do ... forgive yourself."

Hermione leaned over and kissed Willow softly on the lips.

"I just wanted you to know."

THE END