Chapter 1
Ron did a flip to the side and blocked the quaffle, smashing it back toward Malfoy who had to dodge out of the way.
“Honestly, Weasley, what the hell?” Draco grumbled, shaking his head as Ron motioned for another ball. “Why did you save this for last? This is where you belong on the Quidditch Pitch. Unquestionably. You’re not bad as a beater, that can be your fall back. Horribly mediocre as a chaser, and if you try out as a Seeker, I shall never speak to you again. But keeper? Bloody hell, Weasley. Twenty out of twenty? Are you having a laugh? If Gryffindor doesn’t take you, we’re demanding a resort so the Slytherins can.”
Ron grinned, blushing a little. “I…thanks, Malfoy. I wasn’t expecting…”
“Well, I honestly feel like an idiot. Encouraging the competition like this. But well. Needs must. As a Slytherin and a Malfoy, I’m honor-bound to recognize talent when I see it. And I’ve missed the bloody mark with you, Weasley. Hell, with all you Weasleys. And Longbottom. And even, Merlin help me, fucking Granger. You’re all intelligent and powerful and it’s giving me a bloody aneurysm.”
“Oh, the things we learn when we get kidnapped, eh?” Ron laughed a little. “Right, well. Nearly time for dinner, I think. One more round of catching the Snitch? Ought to have a little practice for the one bloke on the pitch who’s actually playing this year.”
Draco scoffed. “Seeker practice against you is not practice, Weasley. It’s slaughter.”
“Oh, this is that Slytherin cunning, innit? Acting like you’re superior so no one knows you’re scared.” Ron laughed.
“Weasley, the day I’m scared of your seeking prowess is the day I never fly again.”
Ron shrugged and opened the box containing the Snitch. “Prove it, then.”
“Fine,” Draco sighed, and they were both on their brooms and off.
They had been at it about five minutes, which honestly, was about three minutes longer than Ron was expecting. He was enjoying flying. Diving, barrel rolling. Generally being an idiot with no one around to scold him. Draco was too busy looking for the Snitch to reprimand him. Which is also probably how the bloody big bird snuck up on them.
Draco screamed like the frightened little ferret he was deep down and was headed toward the school as fast as his broom would carry him. Ron, in fairness, had at least seen such a creature before and dodged between it and Draco, yelling.
“Oi! Fleur? What’s the problem, Mate?”
Fleur screamed at him. And well, the sound was off. And the coloring was off. This creature seemed a little bigger, was a more silvery white to Fleur’s white gold, and had an edge of black feathers around its wings that Ron did not remember from her kidnap and cuddle Harry and Snape phase.
“Who the fuck are you?” Ron hollered, diving wildly toward the thing, shooting stunners he knew from experience wouldn’t do any good against a veela.
The thing dodged him and shot, with unerring precision, toward the fleeing Draco Malfoy.
Ron prayed to Merlin that his borrowed school broom could pick up speed. He ascended quickly and then leaned into a dive, gaining momentum. The veela was gaining on Malfoy, who apparently had the brilliant thought of leading the crazed creature into the Whomping Willow. Ron’s inner strategist cheered as Malfoy feinted and dodged like the brilliant Seeker he was, and the veela was sent flying (ha!) by the confrontational tree. Ron managed to reach Malfoy, then, grabbing hold of his broom, and reaching to his pocket to pull out the Invisibility Cloak.
“Sorry Harry,” he mumbled. “Merlin and Morgana, don’t let me like…rip it.”
“Weasley!” Draco hissed, trying to yank his broom away. “What are you on about…that thing…!”
Ron threw the invisibility cloak over Draco and himself, straddling both Draco’s broom and his own. To his credit, Draco went quiet and did the same. They shot toward the school silently, a crazed veela somehow still following behind them. They passed over a thin stretch of woods and Ron heard a commotion below. He glanced down to see several people standing as if along an invisible fence. One of them was unmistakably Hagrid and Ron didn’t have time to identify more than Sirius Black by the tone of his cursing before they had passed over the group.
A sound like a wet broom slapping against concrete sounded and the veela was flung backwards and into a tree. The poor thing (poor thing? Who did he think he was, Harry Potter?) shook itself and shot toward them again, but seemed to run directly into nothing and bounce off. It kept up its relentless attack on what Ron had to assume were Hogwarts wards and Ron could only sigh in relief as they landed in a calm courtyard and took off the invisibility cloak.
Draco sat down immediately on the mossy paving stones. He looked up at Ron with a pale blank face. “What the hell, Weasley?”
“Exactly my question, boys. What the Hell are you doing out of the castle with a creature attack imminent?” Alastor “Mad Eye” Moody hobbled forward, crazy eyes wild, with the tall Kingsley Shacklebolt at his side.
“Constant vigilance,” Ron muttered to himself as he helped Draco get to his feet. The kid was shaking and bloody hell, Ron wished he could lie and say he wasn’t a bit in pieces himself.
“Constant vigilance!” Moody roared. “You two seem to be something of a target. Especially you, young Malfoy. Word is, the bird creature is your father, come to claim you. Come along, come along. We’re to take you and young Weasley to the Headmasters Office. No safer place in Hogwarts.”
“Sir,” Ron said, chills of apprehension racing up his spine as Moody gripped Draco’s shoulder and Kingsley’s strong hand held Ron’s arm. “I’ve got family here. My brothers and sister.” Hermione. Harry. “Couldn’t we go to them? See that they’re alright. Surely the students are already in their common rooms. I’ll look after Draco; his father won’t think to look for him in Gryffindor Tower, I expect.”
Draco threw a glance over his shoulder at Ron, and Ron had no idea whether he was surprised to be included or insulted at having to spend a day with Gryffindors.
“No, you two are being specifically targeted, and thus would be a liability to the other youngsters. Shacklebolt an’ I will keep you nicely under wraps. Can’t be too careful. Constant…”
“Constant vigilance,” Ron said quietly with him. “Brilliant.”
Ron could have hugged the lovely proud form of Harry’s patronus, but he was too fucking mad to even try. “Ron, tell me where you are?” Harry’s voice said. “And are you okay?”
Before he could summon his own patronus, a giant fucking Basilisk patronus streamed into the room. “Ask Draco if he’s alive and where the fuck he is, okay?” Tom Riddle’s voice sounded calm but concerned.
Ron shook himself and summoned his terrier. “We’re okay,” Ron tried not to sound confused and furious, but wasn’t sure he was succeeding. “Moody and Kingsley have us. I don’t know what’s going on. They’re holding us in Dumbledore’s office. I don’t know what the fuck is going on but…”
“We aren’t holding you, lad!” Moody blustered and Ron lost his concentration. His terrier ran off and he hoped his message had gone through. “Makes it sound as though you’re under arrest. We’re protecting you foolish children.”
“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, Potter,” Draco Malfoy sighed to his…peacock? Now, that was something to tease him about later, provided they both lived so long. “And I don’t know what’s going on. They say I’m to be held because my father is a giant bird and is attacking the school. Can you even imagine such a thing? This is the last time I ever do a favor for you or Weasley, who is a pants seeker by the way, but will be a fantastic keeper. And yes, we’re in the Headmaster’s office. No sign of him, though. I think Filch is guarding the door. What the hell have you got us into this time, Potter?” Draco sent the peacock on, and Ron could only chuckle a little and shake his head.
“I must not be total pants at Quidditch if you thought to mention it to Harry when we’re in a situation like this.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Weasley. I figured Potter is in some sort of crisis as usual and could use a bit of distraction. Besides, can’t let him keep that ego of his too inflated, now can we? Mustn’ let him think he’s got the monopoly on Quidditch talent in our year.”
Ron found himself reeling a little. “Wow, Malfoy. Are you sure that’s really you? Maybe you were snatched by the bird, and it replaced you with quite a lovely bloke.”
“What’s this? You mistrust the lad’s identity?” Moody had Draco by the shoulder and was staring at him with his crazy magic eyeball.
Ron’s wand was out, but Kingsley Shacklebolt slapped Moody’s hand away.
“Moody, that magic eye can see everything but humor. That was what we call ‘a joke’.” Kingsley gently shoved the man back. “You’ve been on duty too long, man. Sit down. Close those ever-vigilant eyes. I’ll watch over us for a bit.”
Moody stared at him for a long moment, then stalked over to a visitor's chair in the corner and dropped down into it. “Great man, Dumbledore.” Moody mumbled, closing his eyes.
“How well I know it,” Kingsley mumbled. He settled into a chair in front of the door. “Keep your wands out, you two.” Kingsley said softly. “Take a little rest if you can. It’s bound to be a long-ass day.”
“Auror Shacklebolt…” Ron muttered, scooting his chair a little closer to the man.
Kingsley shook his head. “Try to relax, Ron,” he said, his voice still soft. “I’m afraid this isn’t about us.”
Ron glanced at Draco, who sighed, rolled his eyes, drew his wand, and settled back in his chair, closing his eyes.