Friend Since Birth

*****
Sirius watched as Charlie paced the edge of the wards, growling occasionally whenever someone tried to get close to the dragon handler. Sirius was about to corral the snappish man when Kingsley sucked in a deep breath, signally the rest of the group to converge on them.

“This is not good,” the Auror muttered. Then he waved his wand in a complicated manner and a body materialized in the clearing. A body with a familiar white mask and cloak. The only one to show exactly who Arianna’d run afoul of.

Sirius started cursing. Then he called for Kreacher.

“Master Sirius be calling his Kreacher?” the elf asked as soon as he popped up. Sirius would have to wonder at the strides they’d taken for Kreacher to willingly call himself Sirius’ elf later.

“Please get Remus and inform Severus that Arianna’s been taken by Death Eaters,” he ordered, ignoring the hesitant looks he got for involving a well-known follower of Voldemort. He didn’t have time to soothe their fears, though. Or explain why he trusted Snape. He also knew Kreacher would tell Reggie, but he couldn’t reveal his brother. Not when there were Aurors present who didn’t know.

“Kreacher be doing so,” Kreacher said, nodding to him before popping away.

“So, you think she did this?” Kings asked.

Sirius was about to answer when Charlie took one look at the body and nodded. “Knife’s hers,” he said simply.

The group all took a moment to spot the silver handle of a throwing knife imbedded in the man’s neck before they all nodded and set to work gathering evidence. They’d have to find a way to explain why they were investigating a kidnapping outside the wards of Hogwarts, but Sirius quickly explained that, since they were beyond the wards, this was technically Hogsmeade. There would be no need to inform the school beyond that there’d been a kidnapping so they could secure the students. Now they just had to find his goddaughter.

Before Voldemort decided to do away with her.

*****
Honestly, she was a bit surprised it took her two days to piss off Voldemort enough for him to stop the niceties. Then again, that crack about his blood status may have gone a bit far in front of so many of his followers. Did that mean she enjoyed the multiple Crucios to the face because her robes were spelled so only she could willing take them off and were impervious to cutting? Not really. Did she miss the double-edged sword of promises and lies she and Voldemort had been exchanging previously? Not so much.

Did she wish Bellatrix would move on? Definitely.

She writhed in pain as the Crucio held her tight, Bellatrix cackling at her even as she kept her wand pointed at her. But she refused to scream. Even if she had to break every one of her teeth to keep them clenched and prevent the sounds from escaping, she would. She was just glad they’d not applied the body bind so she could thrash ‘beautifully’ as the mad woman had described her frantic jerking as.

“Enough for now, Bella,” Voldemort purred, gently lowering the woman’s wand and pressing a kiss to her temple. “I do believe our little Lady has had enough for today.”

And this was why she knew she’d survive with her mind intact. Eir would be pissed about the nerve damage, but she would not end up like the poor Longbottom couple. Voldemort apparently liked her enough to allow time to recover. It was the only reason she knew she’d been here five days. And due to the length of time, she knew her power levels had recovered enough from her transformation to do what she would need. Now she just had to bide her time. If no one came by the week mark, she’d follow through with her plan. For now, she’d just sleep a little. That last bout had been longer than any of the others so far. She needed to get out. Preferably before the Wizengamot meeting coming up.

And well before Voldemort decided she was more trouble than she was worth, even with the Aiaia title.

*****
Ron didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he was getting worried. Hermione had confided in him that she’d been unable to get ahold of Arianna on her mirror for almost a week now. Ever since she’d left to go back to the Den. Neither one wanted to inform Harry, but they were starting to get desperate for news. Ron knew Harry had tried once, but had just figured Arianna was preparing for the Wizengamot meeting she’d told them about. Ron had other ideas. It didn’t help that Charlie hadn’t come to say goodbye to him, so either he was still around or he’d gotten distracted.

Even the twins were being evasive. Well, more than normal for the twins. Harry had told him about the twins almost rushing him away from Charlie on the edge of the wards, but he didn’t think much further on it. Ron, on the other hand, worried why Charlie had been there. But he couldn’t find him to ask. With Arianna going silent, he was very afraid what that meant. He may not be as brilliant as Hermione, but he was not an idiot and his strategic brain was conjuring scenario after scenario of why all these things would happen at once.

And they all came to the same conclusion. Arianna had been taken.

But whether it was Dumbledore or Voldemort, he didn’t know.

Both were a possibility.

And it could have been someone else, which would be, perhaps, much worse.

He’d have to take a trip to the area Arianna had pointed out on the Marauder’s map, just past the edge of it, where she’d been held prisoner, to see if Dumbledore had finally caught on and returned her to her coffin.

“Weasley, pay attention to your potion,” Snape snapped at him.

He jumped and almost dropped double the amount of pixie wings into the cauldron, but quick fingers from Hermione saved them from singed eyebrows and another melted cauldron.

He sighed, reveling in the feeling of her delicate fingers on his wrist, and thanked her gently. As much as they’d seen the change in Snape since Regulus had been rescued and Harry had taken the man to task, he was still a harsh man in potions class.

“Stop strategizing,” she muttered. “At least in Potions.” He smiled sheepishly but nodded. “Still can’t figure out why she’s gone silent?” Hermione asked softly. Both of them were well aware of Harry only a few tables away, paired with Malfoy of all people.

That was odd, but they’d not managed to blow up at each other or cause the potion to explode yet, so Ron left it alone. The blond was proving to actually be true to his word so far, treating Harry neutrally when not actively helping with the DADA classes they were teaching.

“I’m worried I know exactly why,” Ron admitted, just as softly.

“Me too,” Hermione admitted.

“I’m surprised Harry hasn’t already come to the same conclusion.”

“I think he’s too stressed to put too much thought into it,” Hermione admitted. “He’s got more going on than ever before and it’s starting to cause things to slip.”

“We’re not exactly in a better position,” Ron grumbled. “Between Quidditch, Prefect duties, OWL prep, helping Arianna with the ROR, and the lessons, I’m surprised we weren’t issued time turners this year.”

“Honestly, Ron, they weren’t even supposed to give me a time turner when they did and half of what we’ve got on, the professors aren’t aware of,” Hermione chided.

“Maybe Aiaia has a few?” he offered, only to flinch when the brushy haired witch smacked his head.

“Think, Ronald!” she hissed.

He grumbled, but nodded and went back to their potion. He’d have to talk to her about that in private, as he was quite done being berated for everything and hit for everything else. She’d been doing so much better and even if he wasn’t supposed to say Arianna’s public name, it was no real secret that she knew the Weasleys. The twins still crowed about it to anyone who would listen.

Then Ron noticed Harry rubbing his chest again. He almost said something, but the bell signaling the end of class sounded and he was distracted by Hermione’s quick orders to bottle what they had.

“When’s the next detention?” Malfoy asked softly as the group of them made their way to lunch after turning in their potions and cleaning up hurriedly.

“Tonight,” Ron grumbled. “She’s got it out for him…. This one’s just for walking to class with more than two people. And he was the only one given detention. McGonagall can’t even take control of them, either.”

“Is there nothing anyone else can do?” Malfoy asked and Ron had to stop in the hall to stare at him. Hermione glared at the two of them as she continued walking with Harry to lunch. If there was one thing that saved them at this point, it was that Harry was too preoccupied in his own mind to realize what was going on around him.

Was that concern from the dark Prince of Slytherin? For the Golden Boy of the Light?

“Perhaps your father should hear about this,” Ron couldn’t help but snap.

“I would, Weasel,” Malfoy growled, turning back to him with a sneer. “But he’s not yet back from securing the wards at the Manor and our Gringotts accounts.”

Ron’s mind latched onto the new information and he took a moment to really look at the blond, pushing aside his dislike to really see. There was a pinched look to him, the muscles around his eyes just a tad tight. And his grey eyes, the only part of him that consistently escaped his mask, were haunted.

“When was the last time you heard from him?” Ron asked after his inspection, frowning when the question caused Malfoy to look just a bit more pained.

“A few weeks,” Malfoy admitted, to Ron’s surprise. Perhaps the prat really was trying to change.

Ron nodded, resuming their walk to the Great Hall as he set to work on the bits of information he had. It was as he was absently munching on the delicious meal that he made some connections. And it caused him to do what he’d never done before when eating. He dropped his food, grabbed Malfoy, and darted out of the hall, ignoring the frantic whispering that followed them and Hermione’s hiss of protest.

*****
Draco wasn’t sure why he allowed the red headed idiot lion to pull him around, but it took less effort to keep himself from hexing the teen than he thought. Either his reflexes were getting slow, in which case he would need to step up his training, or he was starting to trust the bloody Gryffindor. He wasn’t sure which scenario ruffled him more.

But when Weasley pushed him into an empty classroom and went to shut the door, he didn’t hesitate to pull out his wand. Which proved a good idea as the twin menaces slipped in behind them before Weasley could fully shut the door or throw up privacy charms. While he’d seen them subtly protect most of the first year Slytherins from bullies this year, he had no wish to cross wands with the pair. Especially with their chess master brother in the fray. He may hate the prat, but he respected the lion’s ability to crush all opposition at the game.

“Now, Ronnikins,” one of the twins drawled, following his brother farther into the classroom and casually putting themselves between Draco and their youngest brother, much to the Slytherin’s shock.

“Would Harry approve of you dragging his friend around,”

“So roughly, with no warning?”

Ron didn’t even seem phased by them, turning to Draco between the pair, wand nowhere in sight. Draco warily lowered his in the face of no obvious threat.

“How honest were your parents about getting out?” Ron asked, tone strangely void of all emotion. It was disconcerting in the notoriously volatile lion.

“Deadly,” he answered promptly.

“Why?”

Draco studied the redhead closely, unsure of how much to reveal to a boy he’d spent the last four years tormenting. But then sighed when he thought it might be a test of how serious Draco was in asking for help.

“We discussed it as a family over the summer and were just waiting for the right circumstances. When Aiaia made such a public spectacle of her entrance to the Wizengamot, Father decided it was time.”

“And how many knew your father was forced to take the mark?” Ron continued, without acknowledging the huge effort Draco had just shown.

Draco shared a look with the twins, confused and not really following where this was going. It also surprised him that the Weasleys knew that little fact, since the twins were far from surprised. His father was usually very protective of such a secret.

“A few,” he answered, allowing his tone to carry his question.

“I don’t think your father managed to get to the Manor in time,” Ron said bluntly.

Draco took a moment to understand, then felt his face drain of all color. The twins reacted instantly, catching him and lowering him to the nearest desk. It surprised him how much he appreciated the care of the Gryffindors; the soothing hand on his shoulder and the piercing pair of brown eyes from one of the twins so far from how a Slytherin would react it was laughable. Yet all he could think was what it would mean if his father didn’t come back.

“Breathe, Draco,” Ron ordered gently, still stood by the door and watching him closely. “Let me finish. I don’t think he’s dead. I think he was forced to talk about Lady Aiaia.”

Draco flinched at that but noticed the worried look the Weasleys exchanged. He forced his spine straight, staring at the three redheads warily again.

“What don’t I know?” he demanded, pushing the hands off him. He would show no more weakness until he trusted them again. Though he did spare a thought to the fact that he’d apparently trusted them more than he thought when he allowed himself to be pulled here and then be touched by them. Truce or not, he’d still hated all of them for years.

“A lot we can’t tell you,” one of the twins admitted, causing a trickle of anger to run down his spine despite the soft words. He thought it might be George, but he wasn’t sure and he did not like the fact that they were keeping secrets. George just always seemed more likely to speak to Slytherins in a gentle tone. Fred was almost more explosive, even in the pair were ridiculously protective of the snakes this year. Yet, again, secrets.

“Not because we don’t want to,” the other said quickly, obviously catching his growing frustration and anger on top of the fear for his father.

“We’re under a Fidelius,” Ron said bluntly. “Which would be the only reason I think your father is still alive. They need him for information and they know they have to go about it in a roundabout way.”

“He agreed to one?” Draco choked out.

“It was a condition of Aiaia’s help,” Ron said. “But that might also be the problem.”

“You think he would have told them?” George asked.

“I think there were very few that knew her whereabouts and current plans,” Ron admitted. “And even fewer that knew when she was looking at moving. They would have had to be very vague in their questions, which is why it took so long for them to act, but it’s possible. I’d have to look at the exact wording of the information covered by the Fidelius charm, but her whereabouts may not have been included as protected information. I think she let the Malfoys know when she was going to be leaving so she could check in on them before the Wizengamot meeting in a few days, to see if Malfoy Sr. still wanted to go.”

“How do you know all of this?” Draco demanded, sneering at the three. “She’s taken over the oldest vault in Gringotts yet she speaks to Weasleys?”

The three exchanged looks then sighed. “You obviously haven’t been paying attention then, when we talk. The Defense classes or not, I thought you were all about connections and political power,” Ron sneered right back.

Draco bristled but before he could build up steam to curse the git, the twins stepped in.

“She’s our sponsor for our business idea,” one said, glaring at their younger brother while his twin continued.

“We were ingredients hunting with our older brother Charlie and she stumbled upon us when she was looking for some potioneer that was known to look in the same area,” the other continued.

Draco felt his eye twitch. “Business?” he asked, wary of what the pranking menaces would consider business.

“Prank products and joke shop,” Ron announced, obviously allowing pride to overcome his concern for their main topic.

The twins smirked at their brother knowingly, though Draco wasn’t sure he liked the possible implications of three of them getting in on the pranks.

“How do you know the oldest vault at Gringotts?” George asked.

Draco scoffed, throwing his nose up in the air. Without Harry here as a buffer, he was finding it increasingly hard to keep his temper with these three. Especially after the news they’d imparted. “I think the more pressing question is what you plan to do with the knowledge that my father is missing, probably a prisoner of the Dark Lord, and he most likely became the cause of the Lady’s disappearance.”

“An excellent point, Mr. Malfoy,” a familiar deep voice drawled from the doorway. Draco stiffened as Professor Snape sauntered in, closing the door behind him. Then he stunned the blond further by throwing up stronger privacy charms and warding the door against intruders. “Perhaps next time you’ll remember that there are ears everywhere, though you should be aware with those Extendable Ears you insist aren’t cat toys,” the man snarled at the three redheads.

“Sorry, Professor,” they all chorused.

“Now, what’s this about Lucius and the Lady?” he snapped.

Draco watched with interest as the three relaxed and started talking over one another to relay their theory. He could honestly say he’d never seen Gryffindors react that way to his godfather, but Snape didn’t seem surprised or uncomfortable with it either. Which meant he’d experienced it before. Just what in Merlin’s name had happened over the summer? First Potter getting a crash course in pureblood customs so extensive he actually managed to repair the feud with House Malfoy in only a few months. Then Granger actually pulled her head out of her arse and was trying not to bully everyone around her. Weasley actually showing intelligence and acting all protective of Potter, far more than any previous year, even with their supposed adventures and the falling out they’d had last year over that cursed Tournament. Now Gryffindors getting along with the ill-tempered Head of Slytherin?

He’d fight it as long as possible, but he could just tell he’d have a headache all night as he tried to figure this out.

But then he remembered his father was missing and possibly a prisoner of Voldemort and the headache hit hard.