Archive of Our Own

May 2003

Case: XK119-052

Senior Auror Walker

Assignment: Cursed Artifact Lab Follow-Up

Proceed to D.M.L.E. Analytical Lab for status on reflection bowl. Document and return any results.

Ron haphazardly folded his assignment scroll, his sloppiness making it more trapezoid-like than square, and stalked out of the Auror office, a scowl on his face all the way. Not that anyone was around to see it other than the equally disgruntled, equally new Auror recruits that had also been assigned menial tasks.

Well, except for Harry Potter, of course. While every other rookie spent the day running errands, Harry was on stakeouts with Senior Aurors, or tracking villainous dark wizards to the Continent, or engaging in dangerous wand fights with said dark wizards. Harry "The Chosen One" Potter wasn't to be relegated to desk work like his peers. Certainly not.

Ron groaned and rubbed at the headache forming in his temple, mentally berating himself. Harry had had a shit life thus far, he knew that, better than anyone else even, so he didn't begrudge his best mate for catching all the good opportunities now. Except, well, maybe he did. Just a little—but at least he knew he was an ass for doing so. That should count for something.

It was only that he had worked just as hard as Harry to go through Auror training, harder even, since no one had given him preferential treatment. Not that Harry had wanted to be treated differently, but it still happened. And no, maybe he hadn't had as terrible a life as Harry, maybe the weight of the war hadn't been on his shoulders like it'd been on Harry, but that didn't mean it'd been easy for him, that didn't mean it hadn't warped him in ways, too.

A paper cut wasn't as terrible as losing the entire finger, but it still stung.

Shaking his head at the thought, Ron leisurely winded through the mostly empty desks of the Enforcers' section of the D.M.L.E., needing to pass through to get to the Lab. He waved at a few Enforcers he knew, getting cheerful greetings in response. He liked the Enforcers, how similar their group was to the large family setting he was comfortable with. Sometimes he wondered if he should have stayed in regular Magical Law Enforcement rather than going for the Aurors with Harry. Dealing with petty magical crimes and thieves was a lot easier than chasing Dark Wizards, after all.

But—no, it wasn't worth reconsidering, especially since he'd applied and made it into the Aurors. Why turn back now? He just missed having Hermione to talk to, that was all. Which was kind of pathetic, as she'd only been gone for five days.

They'd only been married a week.

With a heavy sigh, and deliberately not thinking about his honeymoon being abruptly canceled for a sudden research opportunity in the Amazon, Ron finally approached the Analytical Lab. Although, he considered, it was less an actual lab and more the combining of three back offices from which the walls had been removed. He wasn't entirely sure how anything got done in the cramped space, especially since he could barely squeeze through the narrow aisles created between the books, boxes, trinkets, and parchments that stacked to the ceiling. It often reminded him of the last time he'd been in the Room of Requirements, before it had gone up in cursed flames, only much, much smaller.

As he opened the door, scrolls dislodged by the new movement rained onto his head. He managed a fumbled rescue of one but the others dropped to the junk-covered floor, joining some previously fallen brethren that had already been trampled or kicked to the edge of the doorway. Ron frowned at the one saved scroll in his hand—the curled parchment utterly crushed from his too-firm catch—and then stuffed it into a crack between some rusty balances atop a pile of books. It wasn't like anyone would notice.

"Hello?" he called, wondering if his voice could be heard through all the clutter.

"Back here!" was the muffled return.

Heaving another sigh, he stepped over the scrolls and began wedging his way towards the back. More than one jostled item ended up underfoot. He huffed in irritation when he accidentally crunched a pearl-colored seashell.

Why the hell was it even on the floor!

"If I had known you would cause absolute mayhem in such a short distance, I'd have come to you," a snide voice scoffed. At the familiarity of it, Ron's attention immediately jerked away from the shell under his shoe. Simultaneously, the owner of the voice calmly looked up from the bubbling cauldron that rested on an old metal desk, the one remaining clear surface in the place.

They both froze.

"Malfoy?" Ron asked incredulously, but he really didn't need to, as the young man before him was quite obviously none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Weasley," Malfoy greeted stiffly and endured Ron's frantic visual assessment with only a pinched frown. He didn't appear entirely surprised to see Ron, merely irritated. "You have a reason for interrupting my work, I presume?"

"Your work? Your work? What work?" Ron demanded, looking down at the cauldron's blue contents and then back at Malfoy. "You work here?"

"Obviously," Malfoy answered, though he muttered it as if embarrassed. He ignored Ron for a moment to scribble something onto a red parchment scroll, and then held out his hand expectantly, still holding the quill between thumb and the side of his palm so that the tip stuck up like a dangerous thorn. "Your assignment scroll?"

Ron blinked at the hand, still not quite recovered from the shock. "Really? You work here?" He waved a hand to stop Malfoy's snide response. "No. No! Where's Badgens?"

"He's out sick," Malfoy ground out, and shook his hand to draw Ron's attention back to it. "Assignment scroll, please."

"Sick?" Ron mouthed, the incredulity having yet to leave his face. "But why are you here?" Malfoy huffed, eyebrows drawing together in annoyance, but Ron again cut off whatever he had to say. "You can't work here, Malfoy. This is the D.M.L.E.—the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! You have a record! It's not allowed!"

"Okay, first, my record was expunged, three years ago," Malfoy snapped, and he flipped his outstretched hand to hold up one finger, somehow managing to roll the quill in the swift movement so that it was safely tucked between his little and ring fingers, even as he lifted the middle one to join the first. "Secondly, I've been here for almost a month, Weasley. We even rode the lift up together last week. I was sitting right there," the lone finger again, jabbing at a nearby, book-covered stool and making the feather of the quill wave, "when you came by yesterday to pick up the report on that crazy kneazle lady's case!"

Ron stammered for something to say, trying not to focus on the wiggling quill. He dug through his memories of the supposed events to see if he could spot Malfoy hanging about in one but came up with nothing. Scrunching his large nose in distaste, he snapped back, "Well, you're not exactly noticeable, are you? Always slinking about!"

Certainly it had nothing to do with his own observation skills.

Malfoy clearly thought so. "Noticeable? Weasley, I'm so eye-catching that I can't even ride a crowded lift without getting groped."

"Doesn't that just make you a pervert magnet?"

"Indeed, but the perverts had to notice me first, didn't they?"

Ron turned his dominant eye on Malfoy for a suspicious and studying look. Malfoy mockingly imitated him, making him feel stupid. The git.

"Whatever! I don't care. I bet you just tossed some money around till it got you what you wanted," Ron finally growled.

Malfoy appeared unaffected by the accusation, merely shrugging. "Yes, and?"

Irritated, Ron flung his assignment scroll at Malfoy, making the other man have to scrabble to catch it before it fell into the still-bubbling cauldron. He received a glare for the careless action. "Just give me the update on this, the report if you're done with it, all right? I've got things to do."

"Like what? Filing other Aurors' cases?" Malfoy muttered as he moved to pull the quill free of Ron's short missive, having punctured the scroll when he'd slapped it between his palms to catch it. He'd also managed to prick the opposite palm with the tip and he surveyed the small injury in irritation, eyes flicking to Ron accusingly.

Ron just glared at him. "You don’t have the clearance to know what I do, Ferret."

Malfoy didn't look up again but rolled his eyes and, after reading the assignment, turned to a ceiling-high stack of different colored folders. He roughly tugged a neon pink folder from the middle and thumbed through it, ignoring the way the stack shifted like it was about to fall from the abusive treatment. The folder was apparently missing something, because he moved to another pile after a moment and, just as forcefully, picked through it until finding a few crumpled leafs of parchment being held together by what looked like a bunny hairpin. Both stacks were still swaying ominously when he finally faced Ron again.

"Here," he said, stepping close enough to slap the items against Ron's chest. "Now get out."

Ron snatched up the requested report with a glare, but then his eyes dropped uncertainly to the pink folder and cutesy bunny clip—it had a yellow bow on its ear. He flipped open the folder to check the contents and was surprised to find everything he needed. The parchments snapped by the bunny were the proper completion and filing notes. He tucked them into the folder before looking grimly back to Malfoy.

"Listen," he started in his most authoritative voice—Robards always complimented him on it, "I don't like or trust you—"

"My heart bleeds from aching sadness," Malfoy dryly interrupted.

Eyes narrowing at the quip, Ron turned to leave, saying over his shoulder, "I'll be watching you, Malfoy."

He thought Malfoy muttered, "You and everyone else," but when he glanced back again, Malfoy had already returned to the potion boiling in the cauldron. With an unconcerned snort, not wanting to care about Malfoy's former Death Eater woes, he made to haughtily stalk off. The action was ruined when he had to begin the usual awkward twisting and weaving to find the door.

Just as he escaped the claustrophobic room, he heard Malfoy's muffled exclamation of, "What the—! Who crushed my Sunray Venus clamshell?!"

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Ron gave his lucky Muggle coin another spin on the table, watching it whirl until it began to slow and then slapping his hand down to stop it. The noise was loud in the silence that had settled between him and Harry but the Muffliato kept any of the other patrons from noticing. He made to flick the coin again, still unsure how to respond to the new information, but Harry suddenly reached out and backhanded the coin, sending it flying under the railing of the sundeck and out into the street. Ron glared and Harry scowled back.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Ron snapped, glare moving to the small nick on his knuckle where Harry's fingernail had clipped him.

Harry started to respond, then stopped, started again, stopped, and then his scowl moved to the tabletop. "You could pretend like you cared, for starters."

"I care! But what the hell am I supposed to say to that?" Ron flicked out a hand as he said "that" and then slumped back in his chair. More gently but still harsher than he intended, he asked, "What were you even thinking?"

"Oh, I don't know, that I wanted to be happy? That, maybe, I could find the happiness I've never had, the happiness you have with Hermione? Something like that?" Harry said sarcastically, the words intending to make Ron feel guilty.

Damn if it didn't work.

Ignoring the twinge, Ron continued, "But you two've been off and on forever. Weren't you just saying a week ago, right before my wedding, that you didn't think you loved her like that?"

Harry groaned a sigh and propped his elbows on the table, dropping his hands into his hands. His fingers clenched in his hair like he wanted to pull it out. "No. Well—yes, but—"

"Then why would you propose?" Ron demanded. He folded his arms over his chest and scowled. "You do know that if you'd told me she'd said yes, after telling me last week that you didn't love her, I'd have to hit you. Right? You know that? Because I'm not going to let you do that to my baby sister, no matter you're my best mate."

"Yeah, I know. I just—" Harry crumbled to the table, head resting on his arms and talking into them when he said, "I was hoping that maybe we'd find something if we got married. I mean, you and Hermione, she suddenly had to go but you're still so, you know…"

Happy.

Ron tried to ignore the uncomfortable squeezing in his chest as he looked away to eye the other patrons. Really, he and Harry weren't good at this, at comforting one another. They goofed off together, fought together, but it was Hermione's job to be there for them when they were feeling down. But perhaps that was the point. Ron still had Hermione to comfort him since they were married now (for a week!), and Harry had… Well, no one. Not like that, not beyond the caring of family.

"Look, Ginny is right," Ron found himself saying, and more than a little embarrassed for saying it. It was just—they didn't do this, him and Harry. "What she said about you two wasting too much time using each other as a fallback, I mean. Instead of always relying on her to be around, you should, you know, get out there. Meet someone new or whatever."

"Because you're the expert to be giving advice on relationships," Harry scoffed, but it was teasingly said and he smiled a little.

"Oi, blame Hermione for off and leaving me to deal with you," Ron joked back, returning the grin.

"Someone new, huh," Harry sighed, shaking his head, his smile growing weak. He glanced to the side and then pulled his wand from his sleeve, silently calling Ron's lucky coin from the street to his waiting hand. He wiped it off, studied it, and then handed it back to Ron.

Ron hesitated before taking it, thinking he ought to say more to help Harry, something encouraging, but in the end he couldn't think of anything and wordlessly accepted the coin.

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Fewer books and trinkets ended up on the floor when Ron squeezed back into the Analytical Lab a mere two weeks later, though he did manage to get one stack of candle holders, tarnished goblets, Christmas baubles, and other random items wobbling dangerously. He practically sprinted the last of the distance to the lab's lone desk, worried that he was going to be being buried alive.

The cauldron was still on the desk and still bubbling blue, but instead of Malfoy an old, white-haired man stood behind it. Badgens looked startled to see Ron suddenly appear from between the stacks, out of breath and glancing backward nervously. He rapidly blinked his too-large eyes, snufflingly wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and asked curiously, "Can I help you, dearie?"

Ron took a moment to thank the ancient wizards of the ages. He'd been annoyed to receive a desk work scroll for the fifth day in a row, so the last thing he'd wanted to see was Malfoy's ferrety face, especially when he had no one to bitch about it with. Harry had the day off, having only just returned from an exciting stakeout. Apparently things had gone sour, not that Harry'd been at all chatty with the details, all tetchy and acting like he'd been the one stuck with a quill in hand all week…

No—stop. He's got his own problems, Ron reminded himself, mentally glaring down the encroaching bitterness.

"Er, did you hear me?"

Ron jumped and quickly held out the scrolls that'd been clenched in his fist, feeling his face heat. "Um—here. I need the results for Auror Bookman's cases."

Badgens glanced at the papers but made no move the take them. Instead, he picked up a stirring paddle and set to work on his potion, saying to the blue liquid, "Draco, be a sweetheart and get this charming Auror his reports. I'm busy."

A loud crunch intercepted Ron's confusion before he had the chance to voice it. He jerked towards the noise and didn't bother to stop his disappointed groan—because there was Malfoy after all, staring flatly at Ron and perched on the books atop the stool, another book open on his lap and a ridiculously large apple in one hand.

"Still haven't been to your Awareness of One's Surroundings lesson, hmm?" Malfoy sneered, taking another loud bite of the apple.

"Just shut it and get me the reports," Ron snapped, tossing the scrolls at Malfoy. They fell short and ended up on the parchment-covered floor.

Malfoy snorted and closed his book, setting it back in the stack after he'd hopped off and placing his half-eaten apple on top of it. He swiped Ron's scrolls from the floor and peeled them open, smoothing out the creases on his leg.

"Oh," he said after reading the contents, "I remember these," and then brushed past Ron to disappear into the stacks. A moment later, when Ron didn't immediately follow, he shouted, "Weasley! Stop dawdling!"

Grumbling his opinion of Malfoy, Ron squeezed in the direction Malfoy had headed. He thought it was the same way he'd come in but couldn't find the stack he'd almost toppled. In fact, he didn't recognize any of the various items surrounding him and wondered how he'd managed to get turned around in such a small room. He was even more surprised when he heard a quiet crunch and paused to look under his shoe. Strangely, he'd stepped on the remaining pieces of the seashell that he had crushed during his first foray into the depths of Analytical.

"Clunky-footed oaf," he heard Malfoy mutter, and when he looked up, they were back at the desk. The floor was still littered with parchments, the cauldron was still boiling its unknown blue potion, the stacks surrounding the small area still looked to be the same ones of parchments and folders, and the stool that Malfoy had been sitting on was still covered in books.

But there was no half-eaten apple, and no Badgens.

Confused, Ron asked, "Where'd Badgens go?"

"Go?" Malfoy asked over his shoulder, hands searching through one of the stacks. "I imagine he's still tending his experiment."

"What?"

"What?" Malfoy paused to shoot Ron an irritated and baffled look.

"Forget it," Ron mumbled. Malfoy huffed and returned to digging.

As with before, the stack swayed ominously at the rough treatment but Malfoy apparently didn't notice—or didn't care. He pulled out several colorful folders and parchments, gave them a quick inspection, and either shoved them back in place or tossed them carelessly to the floor.

"Ah, here it is," he said at last, tugging free a few sheets of blue parchment being held together by a dolphin-shaped paperclip.

Better than bunny hairpins, Ron wryly thought.

"This is the report for the Krory case, results attached, of course," Malfoy explained as he handed the parchments to Ron. The stack behind him began to lean over his shoulder, about to come crashing down, but he merely smacked his arm back against it without even looking and sent it swaying into place. "You'll have to wait a bit more for Lotto's clock, though. Mysteries can't get it stop rewinding time long enough for us to do tests."

"Yeah? Okay," Ron said, not really listening. The dolphin clip wiggled its tail when its tummy was rubbed, proving to be quite distracting.

"You know," Malfoy began, also watching the moving paperclip, "If you'd fold your assignment scrolls like the memos and send them down here ahead of you, I could meet you at the door with the reports."

Ron looked up in surprise at the offer but then Malfoy flatly tacked on, "I'm tired of you stepping on things."

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June 2003

Ron,

I'm sorry I forgot to owl last Sunday. We discovered some new plant life that could be useful against memory charms. Unfortunately, it tends toward attempting to eat its captors so things have been a bit hectic. There are so many amazing finds here! I wish you could visit and see for yourself!

With more medicinal plants being found, we have decided to stay an extra month, maybe two. It would be such a waste to leave now. I'm sure you understand.

I will owl again as soon as I can!

Love you,

Hermione

Sighing, Ron carefully refolded the letter and tucked it into his pocket. Another month. So far, they'd spent the majority of their marriage in separate hemispheres, not that Hermione's letters ever sounded especially distraught about that fact, but maybe that was just his bitterness talking.

He sighed again.

Well, what was one more month when they had the rest of their lives to spend together?

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As he had taken to doing when Ron sent assignment scrolls ahead, Malfoy leaned against the Analytical Lab doorway, waiting with arms crossed and a brightly colored folder in his hand. It was spring green this time and the completion parchments attached to it were stabbed through with a mini, green paper umbrella to hold them together. Ron didn't even blink at the ever odd items, merely accepting them when Malfoy handed over the handful.

"There's more," Ron said, thumbing through the folder in his usual check. "Dawlish said he has to finish his requisition form and then he's giving me some more pickup work."

"Sounds exciting," Malfoy said dryly. "Do you know what case it'll be for? I've a lot to do today, so I won't have time to go digging for your Auror garbage."

"No, I don't know," Ron snapped. "And don't give me that. I've got shit to do, too."

Malfoy scoffed and ducked back into the lab stacks. "Whatever."

Ron rolled his eyes and turned back the way he came. "Git."

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The muscles in Ron's upper back and shoulders were stiff and sore from leaning over a desk, distractedly filling out paperwork all day, the writing callus on his finger itchy and indented. His stomach growled; he'd missed lunch to help Auror Walker catch up on his report load—nothing like spending all day reading about what other Aurors were getting to do. Two of Ron and Harry's rookie class had left the Auror unit already, returning to the Enforcement Squads. Maybe if the Aurors let new recruits do as much as they let Harry then they wouldn't always be hurting for members.

Catching sight of his friend near the lifts, Ron called, "Oi! Harry! Wait for me."

As requested, Harry held back from getting on the lift with a few of the other Aurors. Ron felt a flash of guilt for resenting Harry's luck when he saw how tired his friend looked. Harry even leaned against the wall as they waited for the next lift, ignoring the people that began to crowd around them and eyes glazing over in exhaustion.

Ron hesitated about saying anything. Harry had been in a bit of a funk since Ginny had turned down his proposal and ended things for good between them, and Ron had no idea how to help him out of it. Just be there for him! Hermione had responded when Ron had owled her about it, but that was easier written than done.

"So, you wanna grab a bite to eat?" Ron tentatively asked, already knowing the likely answer.

"Too tired," Harry grunted, only remembering a second later to attach a small, fake smile to the excuse. "Maybe some other time."

At least he did indeed look tired, Ron figured. Sometimes he wondered if the reason the Aurors were giving Harry so much work was because the man asked them to, if only to escape going home to an empty house—Harry refused to share an apartment with Ron and Hermione, and Ron suspected staying at the Burrow might have been worse for him.

When the lift finally arrived, Ron moved to enter but stopped when his friend hesitated to join. Harry eyed the already crowded space with an almost sick look on his face.

"I think I'll just take the stairs," Harry said and turned to leave.

"Oh, I'll come with you," Ron offered.

Harry shook his head. "No, you go on. I… have some things I want to think about. Alone."

"Sure," Ron said, trying to sound understanding or friendly or anything but what he was really feeling. He only had so much patience, after all, and Harry had been playing the woe-is-me card for a month. He'd had about enough of it.

Many of the other occupants shot curious looks between Harry's retreating form and Ron. He ignored them, and pushed and squeezed his way to the back so he could lean on the wall while the lift jerked between floors. It was the time of day that most office workers headed home, which meant frequent stops and more people cramming into the box. Ron swore the thing magically bulged to contain them all; more than one heel came down on his feet as people shifted about.

Sighing, Ron disinterestedly looked around at the others sharing the tight space since he had no one to talk to. He did a double take when he noticed a head of that straight, white-blond Malfoy hair and, sure enough, it was Malfoy standing on the other side of the lift, looking every bit as irritated to be squished against strangers as everyone else.

Ron snorted softly, earning a scowl from the woman in front of him, not that he really noticed. He got a vindictive sort of pleasure from watching how uncomfortable Malfoy was getting. The git's expression was almost pained and he kept shifting around like he didn't want anybody pressed up against him—an impossible aim as there was no room to be had. Ron started to chuckle but reined it in when the woman he'd irritated a moment before suddenly stepped back on his toes in warning, the harpy.

After shifting his feet from the danger zone, Ron straightened to see over the top over everyone's heads—being tall certainly had advantages. Malfoy's jaw was clenched and he appeared to be staring purposefully forward, even as he jerked his arm up to knock away someone else's hand.

Eyes rolling, Ron shook his head in amazement at Malfoy's prissy behavior. It wasn't like a little human contact would kill the prissy—

Merlin's balls! Was that— That hand was— Merlin—No, Malfoy's balls! The Ferret really was being groped on the lifts!

Ron looked sharply away, shocked, but then immediately glanced back and watched in horror as Malfoy continued to discreetly fight off the unwanted attention. The hand that kept appearing was like a snake, trying to wiggle around Malfoy's defense and cop a feel. Malfoy never moved enough to bump those around him but was putting up a good struggle all the same. Hell, he was so careful about it that Ron wouldn't have even noticed him if they hadn't run into each other so many times in the past two months!

Ron choked on a laugh—he couldn't help it, it was just too funny! He pressed his hand against his mouth, trying not to bother those around him, but he wasn't as inconspicuous as Malfoy and received some irritated looks for his snickering.

It had to be some sort of divine justice, karma or the like. The git completely deserved it.

Even so, when he looked back at Malfoy again, his face hurting he was grinning so wide, he couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for the man's situation. A tiny, miniscule amount of pity. Almost nonexistent amount of pity.

Still, it was there and Malfoy had been helpful getting lab work and results to Ron, if sarcastically so.  He figured he ought to intervene. If nothing else, he imagined Malfoy's embarrassment at being seen would be worth it.

"Oi! Malfoy!" he shouted, making everyone in the lift startle and stare at him in surprise. His grin went wide again at Malfoy's wide-eyed look in particular. "You still getting molested by perverts on the lift?"

Everyone in the lift mumbled in confusion and searched out Malfoy, making his cheeks flush red at the attention he had tried so hard to avoid, much to Ron's continued amusement. Though it was impressive when Malfoy, despite being clearly mortified, straightened his shoulders and answered loudly, "Oh, certainly no one would try such a thing with one of our finest Aurors around."

His eyes slanted sideways accusingly. Ron attempted to follow the look but at that moment the lift came to an abrupt halt, causing everyone to stumble while the lift attendant announced they'd arrive at the Atrium. A few people glanced between Ron and Malfoy but most spilled into the large hall, not caring enough to keep from going home.

Ron shuffled along with the crowd but kept an eye out for Malfoy. As the mob thinned, he spotted the blond just off the side of the lifts whispering harshly to a portly wizard, whose robe sleeves looked entertainingly familiar. Ron snickered to himself and then forced his best stern look before stalking over to where the two stood. He came to a stop beside Malfoy, looking between them and folding his arms over his chest authoritatively.

"Something the matter?" he asked, inwardly preening when the wizard nervously eyed his red robes and Auror insignia. He may not have been on any real assignments yet but he'd worked hard to get where he was, so who could blame him for being proud?

"It's nothing! I didn't—I wasn't—he misunderstood!" the wizard wheezed, face red like a tomato. He shifted back and forth on his feet as Ron continued to glare suspiciously at him and then ducked past Malfoy with a squeak, bolting as fast as his legs would take him toward the Apparition cubicles.

"Tch, that pig!" Malfoy growled, glaring. He didn't look away until the man disappeared in the lines of people waiting for their turn, likely hoping that his eyes were burning holes into the man's back.

"I can't believe you actually get groped," Ron chuckled, then burst into actual laughter when Malfoy scowled at him.

"It's not funny. It is humiliating, you oaf," Malfoy snapped. He turned on his heel and headed toward the fireplaces.

"That's what makes it so funny! You, blushing like a maiden in there—gyaaah!" Ron howled, hurrying to keep pace. "And you—you—hahaha—you trying to fight it!"

"Ugh, you are so—"

"And everyone—ahh—they were just looking at you!"

"One of our finest Aurors, my arse," Malfoy muttered against his own words, and stopped near one of the Floo queues, glaring until Ron's laughter subsided into chuckles. "Are you quite finished?"

"For now." Ron groaned, pressing a hand to the stitch in his side and still chuckling sporadically despite the pain. He looked down at Malfoy's unhappy expression and snorted. "Oh, stop pouting. You're fine. And I'm sure the word will get around to any other perverts and you will be grope-free on all the lifts."

"Yes, word will get around, no thanks to you. I was dealing with it just fine before you went and made a spectacle of everything, Weasel."

"Whatever, Ferret," Ron scoffed, grinning at Malfoy's irritated huff. He started to turn away, meaning to find his own line, but on a whim turned back and flicked Malfoy on the forehead, right above creased brows.

"Ow! What the— What was that for, you ass?"

Ron snorted, smirked, and then again turned to leave. "See you tomorrow, blondie."

Malfoy shouted after him, "I certainly hope not!"

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Harry was hunched over his desk, head held by one hand as he flipped uninterestedly through some files. His eyes weren't moving so Ron was rather sure that he wasn't actually reading any of the notes. It seemed like a good opportunity to approach.

"Hey mate, wanna grab—"

"Not today." Harry sighed, sounding annoyed. The hand propping his head moved to rub at his temple and he closed his eyes. "I've got to get this finished. Maybe some other time."

"Right," Ron said shortly, and quickly left before he lost his temper.

How many times was that now, that Harry had turned down his invitation? That Harry had acted like his presence was an annoyance? Ten, fifteen times? Ron's little bit of patience was almost gone and, so help him Godric, the next time Harry tried to ignore him, he would drag the brooding prat along with him no matter what answer he received.

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After checking all of the cubicles, asking many Senior Aurors, and even searching the bathrooms, Ron finally gave up.

Harry had dodged him entirely.

"Didn't even give me the chance to ask," Ron snarled under his breath, yanking his bag from his chair and stomping toward the lifts. "How the hell am I supposed to help him if he avoids me?"

A small clearing was made for him as he crowded into the first open lift, people evading his bitter scowl.  He slumped in his usual spot against the wall, arms folding impatiently as he glared over the tops of heads.

Damn it, he was tired, hungry, and—though he hated to admit it—lonely. With Hermione gone and Harry being moody, the only people he had to talk to were his parents and, well, they were only entertaining for so long. Then his mother would start nagging and his father would babble about Muggles. Everyone else—Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ginny, Seamus, Neville, the other Auror rookies—they had their own lives to be busy with, their own problems to solve and ideas to pursue. About the only person Ron knew who was equally isolated was—

Malfoy.

The lift jerked to a halt right as Ron snapped out of his moping. He swiftly scanned the mob pouring from the lift for that tell-tale hair and actually felt momentarily excited when he spotted Malfoy near the front, already turning towards the fireplaces. Ron hurried after him, swerving through the throng of departing workers. Apparently feeling Ron's eyes trained on his back—or rather, on his alarmingly conspicuous hair—Malfoy first paused, shoulders tensing, and then cautiously glanced backward.

Their eyes met for a breath, and then Malfoy whipped back around and practically bolted toward the Floo lines.

"Oi!" Ron shouted, offended, and everyone around him startled at the sudden outburst, once again quickly moving out of his way when he made to storm after Malfoy. People were less inclined to move for Malfoy, allowing Ron to easily catch him.

"What the hell?" Ron barked, spinning Malfoy around by the arm and flicking him on the forehead like before.

"Ow—stop that!" Malfoy snapped, tugging his arm free of Ron's grip. He rubbed at the spot and glared. "What do you want? I have already clocked out so you can't go insisting that I fetch anything for you!"

"Oh relax. I'm off the clock too," Ron said with a smirk.

"Then what? What other reason could you possibly have for bothering me?" Malfoy demanded.

"I was just gonna ask— Er, that is…" Ron hesitated, looked around at the people watching them, and then tugged Malfoy away from the crowd toward a street exit.

"Hey! Where—"

"Listen, Malfoy," Ron whispered harshly, suddenly feeling embarrassed and reconsidering his idea. He gave Malfoy an appraising look over, wondering if he should instead leave and forget it, but eating alone was getting to be such a bore and at least Malfoy proved to be some entertainment.

"What?" Malfoy asked suspiciously.

Ron sighed. "I'm probably going to regret this, but… you, uh, wanna grab dinner?"

"Wha—No!" Malfoy said, appalled. "No! No, I do not want to grab dinner with you!"

Annoyed, Ron moved to flick Malfoy again but he dodged to one side and swatted away the hand.

"It's not like you have anything better to do," Ron huffed.

"I can think of plenty of things that are better than dining with a Weasel," Malfoy sneered. He then lifted his nose loftily. "Besides, I am not hungry just yet."

On cue, Malfoy's stomach growled. He blushed; Ron laughed.

"Stop being a git," he said, giving the side of Malfoy's foot a hard kick. Malfoy yelped but Ron uncaringly waved off his complaint. "I'm bored and in a bad mood, so just come on already."

"Fine," Malfoy snapped, "but we are going someplace small and dark so no one will see me in your company."

"Damn right we are," Ron agreed, finally shoving open the exit door and stepping outside, catching Malfoy by the sleeve to ensure he obediently followed. A quick survey the alley showed that they were alone with no one to spot them. Ron shot Malfoy a warning look. "I'm building a reputation that I can't have you ruining, so you'd better not tell anyone about this."

Malfoy grimaced.

"Ugh, like I would want anyone to know."

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July 2003

Malfoy was already sitting at the usual table when Ron stomped inside, wet shoes squeaking on the floor. A few other patrons gave curious looks to his frustrated behavior and the work robes he hadn't bothered to change, but the place was known for valuing privacy so no one stared long. Even Malfoy didn't seem particularly interested in him, not so much as flinching when he angrily flung his soaked robe over back his chair and dropped into it hard enough to make the legs creak threateningly. No, Malfoy just stared indifferently at him for a moment, nibbling on a chip, and then languidly lifted a hand to tap the chip basket a bare centimeter closer to Ron's side of the table as a silent offering.

Ron sighed and twisted in his chair to dig a letter from his robe pocket. The edges were wet, making it stick to the table where he tossed it with a slick sort of noise. He grabbed some chips from the basket, then said, "She's staying another month," before cramming the handful into his mouth, eyes narrowing in a dare for Malfoy to comment on his manners.

Malfoy did indeed frown, lips pinching together disapprovingly, but he merely delicately picked up the letter between thumb and forefinger and carefully began unfolding it. Ron rolled his eyes with a scoff at the prissy treatment—it was only wet parchment—but sat quietly until Malfoy finished reading, chewing through the rest of the chips.

"The research is going well, it appears," Malfoy said after a minute, sounding entirely unsympathetic.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Ron snapped, snatching back the letter and folding it roughly, the grease on his fingers leaving noticeable prints on the parchment. "Another month, Malfoy! Month! We've only been together two days out of our marriage! Two days."

Malfoy made a face. "I honestly do not care that you're not getting any, Weasel."

Ron glared. "It's not about that." He paused. "Okay, maybe a little it is. I mean, we're married. But it's mostly not about that."

"Uh-huh," Malfoy answered doubtfully, eyeing the last remaining chip.

Ron swiped it first, ignoring the scowl sent his way. "You know what it's about. I need her here for Harry."

Malfoy rolled his eyes when Ron stole his napkin, too. "I still say it is odd that you cannot have a normal friendship with your supposed best friend."

"We do have a normal friendship," Ron answered dismissively. "Guys don't talk about their feelings. That's why we have girls, and Hermione has always been the one we go to."

"Yes, but she is your wife now."

Ron gave him a look. "Just because we got married doesn't mean Harry can't talk to us anymore."

"You are such a fool." Malfoy sighed.

"Whatever, Ferret. You just don't get us, is all."

"Merlin help me if I ever do."

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Someone tapped quietly on the edge of Ron's desk and he grunted in acknowledgement, not looking up just yet as he finished filling out Auror Reever's requisition form. He was quick to scribble the last line, hand aching from having done the same all day, then tossed his quill aside and stapled the parchments together. By this point, he felt compelled by curiosity to look at his company, since most who bothered him weren't inclined to wait quietly and patiently for a response.

"Harry!" he said in surprise, blinking wide-eyed at his friend. They stared at one another for a second, as if they were more strangers than best friends, then Harry smiled a small, nervous smile and Ron scrambled to his feet, hitting his knee on the edge of his desk in his hurry.

"Er, hey," Harry said, sounding awkward. He looked away from Ron's inquisitive stare to fiddle with a paperweight. "I, uh, you know," he started, rolling the weight from one side to the other, "I've got some free time today and, um, it's been a while since we did anything, yeah? So…" He shrugged.

"Oh," Ron said, then it finally clicked that Harry was opening up again, Harry was coming back, and he grinned. "Right! Yeah, let's grab a bite or something. You know, catch up. Been busy, the both of us."

Harry appeared relieved that Ron wasn't holding the grudge, relaxing and hesitantly returning the grin. "Sure."

"Let me just—" Ron motioned to the open folders on his desk and, after a nod of understanding from Harry, began shuffling everything together, not worrying if parchments went into the wrong folder since he figured he could sort it all later. He didn't want to give Harry time to reconsider and make an excuse.

"So, er, Hermione's not back yet?" Harry said, tone clearly of one trying to make conversation. It sounded unnatural and weird, and yet so familiar from all the other times they'd made up after a fight.

"Yeah, if she doesn't write again to say she's staying longer, that is," Ron snorted, watching from the corner of his eyes as Harry curiously tickled the dolphin clip that he'd never returned to Malfoy.

Wait—Malfoy!

"Ah!" Ron gasped as he startled at the reminder.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked sharply, yanking his hand away from the paperclip and eyeing it suspiciously.

"No, that's not… Er, I just, um, forgot someone, kind of, that is to say, um…" Ron stammered, "I sort of, uh, told someone I'd meet up with him for dinner, is all. It's, well, it's kinda become a thing between us, you see." He shook his head at himself, mumbling, "Wow, I can't believe I have a thing with him."

Harry looked disappointed, shoulders slumping. "Oh. Uh, okay, never mind. It's no—"

"No!" Ron interrupted, making Harry jump in surprise again. Ron gave his questioning stare a sheepish grin. "I mean, that is, what I mean to say, is that that's, you know, not important. It doesn't really matter, you know? I'll just, er, send him a memo or something." He rolled his eyes. "I mean, it's only Malfoy."

Harry's eyes went wide. "You've been eating dinner with… Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?"

Ron felt his face get hot. "Not because I want to. It's just, everyone's been busy. I… I got bored."

Harry kept staring.

"It's not like we're friends or anything!" Ron hurried to explain. He scrambled for the quill he'd tossed aside earlier. "Let me just send him a memo and we can—"

"No!" Harry's hand closed around his wrist, stopping him. This time it was Ron's questioning look and Harry's sheepish smile. "I mean, why don't we all go? Go get something to eat. I've, um," he hesitated, looking away and licking his lips nervously, "been, uh, wanting to… talk to him anyway. You know," cleared his throat and finally met Ron's eyes again, though his own seemed almost calculating, "forgive and forget, if we're going to have to work together. 'Cause he works here, you know."

"Er, right. I suppose so," Ron said uncertainly, something about Harry's abruptly anxious demeanor seeming a little… odd. He shrugged it off. Harry was getting back to normal and that was all that mattered. "Well, okay then, if you think you can stand the git. He's a headache, he is. Be having a fit at the lifts by now, with me taking so long, just you wait and see."

"Let's go then. Shouldn't keep him waiting," Harry said and, without waiting for a reply, turned and strode toward the exit.

If Ron didn't know any better, he'd say his friend was eager to see Malfoy. As it was, he figured Harry probably wanted to get the outing over with. Well of course, since it would include Malfoy, after all.

-----

As Ron had predicted, Malfoy was pacing in front of the lifts, arms folded and a tight, impatient frown on his face when they approached. As soon as Malfoy caught sight of Ron, he toe-turned sharply with his lead foot, mouth dropping open as he took an audibly large breath in preparation for no doubt a long rant—then he saw Harry, too, and he just sort of… stopped. His mouth snapped shut and he leaned back on his heels, as though retreating that small fraction that provided him protection. Guarded eyes danced back and forth between Harry and Ron when they finally stood before him.

"Harry's coming, too," Ron said, and then flicked Malfoy on the forehead when he didn't immediately respond, apparently having decided he'd rather stare at Harry.

It gave Ron the reaction he wanted, as Malfoy flinched and slapped at the hand with a sharp, "Weasley!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "I said, Harry's coming with us." A pointed look. "Got it?"

"Obviously he is," Malfoy muttered, and still his attention continued to drift towards an observing Harry.

Harry seemed every bit as interested in studying Malfoy as Malfoy was in studying him. He cleared his throat and motioned them toward the opening lift, prompting Malfoy. "You're working in the Analytical Lab, right?"

"Yes, for a few months now," Malfoy calmly answered, and elbowed Ron in the side as they wedged the already full lift. It felt deliberate.

Ron snorted and elbowed back. "Not that you'd see him if you didn't know to look."

Malfoy's glare jerked to Ron, elbow again a sharp point in Ron's side, but then Harry said, "Oh, I think he's pretty noticeable," and he had Malfoy's full attention once more. Annoyed at being ignored so easily, Ron gave Malfoy a particularly hard shoulder-to-shoulder shove when the lift jerked sideways, sending Malfoy staggering into Harry, who was irritatingly quick to provide support. Neither of them looked at Ron once they'd righted themselves, not even to glare. In fact, the only thing they did to acknowledge that something had happened was blush like a pair of schoolgirls and stutter out apologies.

Plan having backfired, Ron folded his arms and scowled at his fuzzy reflection in the closed doors, thinking that he should have canceled with Malfoy in spite of Harry's protest. He could already foretell a boring dinner in his future, likely having to listen as Harry and Malfoy satisfied their ever-present curiosity about the other. And here he'd been thinking he and Harry could finally go back to normal.

Damn it, couldn't Harry and Malfoy at least stop staring at one another?

Ron huffed a sigh.

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August 2003

A hand came down on Ron's shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. It was Harry.

"Hey, you coming?" he asked, already out of his work robes and ready to leave.

Ron absently wondered where Harry's recent energy had come from and tiredly rubbed his eyes, unknowingly spreading under them ink from the quill he held. "I can't. I've got to stay and finish this."

"Stay?" Harry asked, bemused, as though the concept of overtime were foreign to him, despite having used the same excuse repeatedly on Ron only a couple weeks earlier.

"Yeah, stay," Ron repeated dryly, turning back to his work. Another three rookies had left the Auror circuit and returned to Enforcement, leaving a heavier workload on Ron and the one other remaining rookie besides Harry. Ron sent his friend a mild glare, even now the tiniest bit resentful that Harry had never been required to do basic office work. "Hermione's coming home next Monday and I want to take a couple days off when she does. Gotta get this all done before then."

"That's great. Won't even recognize her, been so long," Harry answered distractedly, clearly thinking about something else. His thoughtful gaze drifted from the distance down to Ron. "So, uh… it's just going to be me and Malfoy today?"

"First time you two will've been alone in, what, years?" Ron snorted wryly. He waved dismissively at his again preoccupied friend. "Try not to kill him this time, yeah? I'm finally able to stand the git."

"Right, yes, no killing." Harry paused, and then smiled at whatever was going on inside his head. "That, I think, will be the last thing on my mind." He gave Ron a brotherly thump on the shoulder, something he'd likely picked up from Bill. "Well, see ya!"

Through narrowed, speculative eyes, Ron watched his goofily grinning friend bustle away towards the lifts, wondering why he suddenly felt like he'd missed something important.

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There existed an assumption men had about women and cleanliness.

Girls like Ginny didn't count, of course; she'd grown up with six older brothers to teach her bad habits and mould her into a tomboy, so it was only expected she have a messy bedroom and lack the competence to clean up after herself. But smart girls like Hermione were supposed to be different. They were supposed to be perfectionists, the clean ones in any relationship, and men got to be the ones that left dirty clothes on the floor and half-eaten food on broken plates by the sink. This was the order of things, how the world worked.

Maybe it was that boys weren't allowed into the girls' dormitories at Hogwarts that Ron had never noticed, but Hermione did not follow this natural order.

"Our bedroom looks like the Potions lab after Neville's been at it," Ron complained around a spoonful of ice cream. "Clothes everywhere. And books and parchment and her 'specimens' all about so there's nowhere to walk. I can't even sit down without getting stabbed by a quill tip! It's worse than Malfoy and the Lab and I didn't think anything could be worse than that!"

Across the table, Malfoy scoffed lightly as he finished his own ice cream. "Weasley, not two weeks ago you were whining about missing your wife and now you won't stop whining about her being home."

"Yeah, which is it?" Harry asked, sitting so close to Malfoy on the opposite side of the table that it made Ron feel like they were ganging up on him, two against one. "You ought to be happy she's back, right? She's your wife now."

"I am happy she's back! It's just, I got so used to being on my own that it's weird having someone come in and change things!" Ron protested, and then glared when Malfoy and Harry shared an exasperated look. It was an entirely too familiar gesture for them to be doing. He kicked the raised front leg of Harry's chair, causing his friend to jerk at the sudden shift in balance and grab frantically at the table edge to prevent falling over. As with in the Ministry lift, the spiteful action didn't give Ron the attention he wanted. Instead, Harry's interest swiftly changed to Malfoy when the blonde git laughed.

"Find that funny, did you?" Harry asked with a mock-glare, nudging Malfoy with his elbow.

"What can I say?" Malfoy teased, a grin in place of his usual smirk and he made no effort to retaliate against Harry's arm, instead swaying with each nudge. "You're rather an amusing sight when you flail."

"Am I?" Harry continued in the same playful tone, moving to prop the elbow on the back of Malfoy's chair and leaning in.

Malfoy appeared unbothered by the proximity, not even noticing that his hand brushed against Harry's chest when he wiggled his arms and said, "Like a turtle on its back, flailing desperately."

"One would hope that you’d help the turtle." Harry caught the hand and, Merlin, did they even know that they could look elsewhere besides each other's eyes? "You like turtles, right?"

"I do like turtles…" Malfoy answered, and then it was as though his expression became predatory. "In soup."

"Anyway, back to me," Ron interrupted, not at all liking being left out of whatever inside joke the two had going. A not-so-small part of him was beginning to suspect Malfoy of stealing his best friend, especially when the two jumped apart and stared at him like they'd forgotten he was there. He scowled at them, wondering why Malfoy had tagged along on the usual ice cream run. A few weeks of dinners didn't suddenly mean the Ferret was automatically invited on every outing now.

"Weasley," Malfoy snapped, and he looked frustrated as he finally pushed away Harry, "You need to get over it. You are married now. Living with a slob is a part of married life. Deal."

"She's not a slob!" Ron snapped back, but he secretly thought the same, even if her habits were no worse than his own. "She's just… distracted."

"Then why don't you pick up?" Harry snorted, arm still over the back of Malfoy's chair. "You clean."

Ron tugged an irritated hand through his hair. "It's not about cleaning!"

"Then what is it about?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

"I don't know! I just wanted to get a bit of good-natured complaining in and you two act like I'm rotten for it!" Ron barked, not caring when the other two glanced around pointedly at their location. "And you keep going off on your stupid inside jokes like you're friends or something!"

"Stop yelling!" Malfoy hissed. "Everyone's looking!"

"What inside jokes?" Harry asked, frowning.

"You know what I mean!" Ron said, waving his hand in a vague motion at the two of them. "This bit with the turtle. Whatever it is you two know that I don't!"

Harry and Malfoy stared in surprise for a breath, then Harry burst into laughter and Malfoy blushed patchy red, though he appeared to be fighting a smile.

 "See!" Ron huffed, and Harry began to choke as he laughed harder. Ron kicked his chair again and grumbled, "Why did I waste my time worrying about you before?"

"Oh Weasley," Malfoy sighed, shaking his head even as he pat Harry on the back. "I am continuously amazed by how well you do in the Auror squad."

"Oi! What are you implying?" Ron demanded. "And what do you mean, how well I'm doing? I'm not doing anything! They've still got me running errands!"

Malfoy stared. "Continuously amazed. I assure you."

"What?"

"Ohh, okay," Harry sighed, holding his side like it was cramped. "I think it's time we head back." He grinned slyly at Ron. "I believe you have some not-errands to run."

They both had that secretive smirk now. Ron scowled at them.

-----

As the three of them exited the lift, Ron and Harry towards the Auror unit and Malfoy towards the Lab, Harry turned and called, "I'll come by later to, uh, pick up those reports I needed."

Malfoy paused and then looked over his shoulder with a smile. "You do that."

And still Ron felt like they were leaving him out on the joke.

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October 2003

The Analytical Lab was every bit as crowded with junk as ever. Ron leaned cautiously into the room, searching the short path between the stacks for any sign of Malfoy. The git was supposed to meet him at the door, like always, and had failed to show. This had happened before, as Malfoy frequently got caught up in whatever he happened to be analysing, but typically a shout from Ron would prompt a response of some kind. So far, Ron had shouted a total of ten times but no matter how loud he got, there was no answering bark from Malfoy.

Ron sighed and reluctantly started through the stacks, grumbling under his breath. He was having a bad day—week—so it was only natural that Malfoy would find some way to make it more tedious. Well, maybe Malfoy was actually quite busy, but Ron was in a sour mood, what with Hermione going off on another trip—they'd had a row about it—and Malfoy had neither responded to the memos nor met him at the door, so the Ferret would have to bear the brunt of his irritation.

As he approached the clearing that was Malfoy's workspace, Ron curiously heard a flutter of movement and what sounded like two frantically whispering voices. "Malfoy?" he called, squeezing past the pile of Christmas baubles. The voices went silent. "Oi! Malfoy! I know you're there!"

Malfoy was indeed there, and he stood on the opposite side of the desk when Ron finally stumbled into the clearing, bumping a stack that had wind chimes hanging along the way. Malfoy looked flustered, out of breath, and hovered unnaturally close to one of the stacks of parchment from which he'd often pulled reports.

Ron glared, grabbing a handful of chimes to stop their noise. "What the hell? I sent the assignments ahead and I waited for you!"

"Yes, well…" Malfoy licked his lips, glanced briefly to his left, and then raised his nose in the air. "I'm busy with important things, you see. I'll bring you the reports when I'm finished with… this."

"With what?" Ron demanded, gesturing to the curiously empty desk and its lack of experiments. "What've you got that's so important you can't turn in reports?"

"It's above your clearance level, Weasel," Malfoy sniffed. He fluttered a hand at Ron. "Now go. I said I'll personally bring you the reports, so leave."

Ron eyed Malfoy's stiff stance and the way he drew closer to the stack. "What're you hiding back there?"

"Above your clearance!" Malfoy snapped, and crowded the stack even more when Ron took a step forward. "You're not meant to see!"

"What could you possibly have clearance for that I don't?" Ron scoffed. "There's no way you have higher clearance than me—I'm the one that has to read through and file all the reports!" Then, as something nearby caught his eye, "Wha—Are those Harry's?"

Malfoy froze for a breath, mouth slightly open, as he too looked at the eyeglasses resting atop the book-covered stool. He again shot a glance to his left. Then he immediately affected an air of indifference and rolled his eyes to the ceiling in a put-upon manner. "Yes, because Potter is clearly the only person with round spectacles. Surely no one else has ever worn such an item."

Ron scowled. "I know other people wear glasses, Malfoy. I'm just saying they look an awful lot like Harry's. See, doesn't that look like the same crack…" He reached to pick up the eyeglasses.

"Weasley!" Malfoy shouted, startling Ron into jerking his hand back. "For Merlin's sake, they're not Potter's. For all you know, they are cursed and what I am trying to work on, but you won't know that because you've no clearance for it, so leave before I have the Lab kick you out!"

"The Lab can't kick me out!" Ron protested, but even as he did, the wind chimes began to jangle all on their own and he swore the tune was an ominous one. He sent them a wary look and took a step back. "Fine! I'm going! But damn it," he pointed a finger at Malfoy, "I need those reports!"

Malfoy sent him an annoyed look. "I have repeatedly stated that I have every intention of bringing them to you."

"Fine," Ron snapped again, and turned to leave.

Behind him, he thought he could hear Malfoy whisper, "Ow! What? Ugh."

"Weasel," Malfoy called then, and continued even when Ron ignored him in favour of shuffling into the stacks, "It recently has come to my attention that your beloved wife is returning to the southern hemisphere."

Curious to hear what he had to say, Ron stopped.

Malfoy continued, "As you will, no doubt, be depressed by the absence of your supposed soul mate—"

"Ferret, just get to the point." Ron snorted, though he found himself fighting a grin when he turned and found that Malfoy appeared pained to be speaking on the matter.

"Once she leaves, let's," a sigh, "hang out and get you properly, eh, sloshed."

It sounded like he was merely rehearsing what someone had told him to say, but surprisingly, Ron found it cheering. He grinned, letting his anger of a moment before disappear. "Yeah, let's do that."

Malfoy rolled his eyes but still gave a small smile.

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November 2003

The letter was full of apologies. Another month-long trip was again being extended. The rainforest was terribly full of new wonders, there was much to be learned, they couldn't leave just yet—or so Hermione again wrote.

Ron merely sighed and folded the parchment back into a square, tucking it in his pocket before returning to the notes he'd taken for Auror Robards during the Department Heads meeting. He felt he ought to be upset, and maybe he was, just a little, but Hermione's enthusiasm towards learning was part of why he'd fallen in love with her. Simply put, it was endearing, even when it separated them by thousands of miles.

Still, going home to an empty flat was rather depressing.

Well, if there was one positive look he could take, it was that his best mate wasn't in a funk this time and could therefore keep him company.

-----

Harry at least had the decency to look abashed when Ron squawked, "What?"

"Er, that is to say," Harry stammered, rubbing his neck in that awkward manner that he always did when not quite meeting Ron's eyes, "Tomorrow I'm off on an assignment with Auror Marian and I've already plans with Draco tonight, so I can't really hang out this week…"

"With Draco. With Draco? You're calling him Draco now?" Ron growled—or, he meant to growl it, but he was certain his pitch was getting too high to have the effect he wanted. "Helga's tits, Harry! I can't believe you're ditching me to hang out with Draco Malfoy! And before you're to go off on some long assignment! Which you never even told me about!"

"I've been busy!" Harry protested. "And… distracted. And I promised Draco—yes, Draco, Ron, because that's his name. I'm going to call him by his name. Anyway, I promised him I'd go like, weeks ago."

Ron huffed, bowing up. "Go with him where? Where's he got to go that it's so vital you be there?"

Harry shrank a little. "Well. It's. Well." He cleared his throat and looked at the floor. "An opera."

"An opera, Harry? Really? An opera." Ron shook his head in dismay, hands gesturing at Harry as though to express, Who is this before me?

"Look, he asked me to go, and I said yes, and I'm not just going to ditch him at the last minute," Harry snapped.

"But you'll ditch me!"

"We didn't already have plans! You asked me just now!"

"That shouldn't matter! It's Draco Malfoy! I didn't think he'd ever take priority over me!" Ron shouted, wincing as soon as he said it and hoping that Harry didn't hear the hurt in his voice.

Harry did, if the sudden sympathetic expression were any indication. "It's not that he's taking priority. It's… Well, I mean, you're always with Hermione, right? When she's not exploring rainforests, I mean."

"She's my wife," Ron countered, and then threw up a hand to wave away the statement. "And it's Hermione. That doesn't even count. It's not the same."

"It counts," Harry replied firmly. "It's the same."

"It is not!"

"It is."

"Not."

"It—Oh, bloody hell, Ron!" Harry turned away in frustration, paced a few steps, and then turned back, fuming. "I'll be back in a week. Why is tonight so important to you?"

Ron started to snap an answer, hesitated, started again, hesitated, and then deflated. It was his turn to look at the floor in embarrassment. "It's not important, it's just… I can't believe you're picking Malfoy over me." He flicked a scroll on Harry's desk. "I never thought you'd up and be best mates with him."

Harry didn't immediately respond—didn't immediately deny it. Ron jerked to stare at him in horror—had he really replaced Ron with Malfoy?—but was met with a confused expression.

"We're not best mates, he and I," Harry said slowly. The confusion turned speculatively accusing. "Are you having a go at me?"

"What?" Ron asked, now entirely perplexed as well.

"You mean you really don't…" Harry trailed off, still giving Ron a strange, studying look, and then he shook his head and tried again. "Listen, I'll be back in a week or two. Let's do something then, yeah?"

"Story of my life, people going off on trips and leaving me behind," Ron grumbled.

Harry just sighed.

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Ron wasn't too keen on seeing Malfoy any time soon—the dirty friend stealer—but as the fates would have it, he was sent to the Analytical Lab twice the following day.

The first time, Malfoy stood waiting at the Lab door with folded arms, a tapping foot, and looking every bit annoyed as Ron felt. Neither of them, it seemed, had the patience to deal with the other.

"Here," Malfoy said shortly, shoving two scrolls—one tied with a pink ribbon with darker pink hearts on it and the other tied with silvery tinsel—into Ron's hands before he could even ask for them.

"Enjoy the opera?" Ron sneered.

"No, I did not," Malfoy snapped, and swiftly turned on his toe to disappear into the Lab.

Ron blinked after him, baffled.

The second trip to the Lab revealed a still irate Malfoy bearing a white folder with a unicorn hairpin that swished its tail and tossed its head, golden feet prancing in place. Ron accepted the items without batting an eye, and instead asked, "What? Harry wasn't impressed by your culture and wit?" before Malfoy could escape again.

Malfoy's expression became darker. "Potter is too far up his own righteous ass to understand the feelings and predicaments of anyone besides himself!"

The biting statement, which rose in volume toward the end, caught Ron entirely off guard, but before he could question it, Malfoy had already darted back into the Lab and slammed shut the door. With a huff, Ron turned and strode back towards the Auror unit, thinking he'd give Malfoy a good flick to the forehead the next time they met for leaving him without an explanation.

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Ron eagerly reread his assignment scroll, eyes dancing along the words provide backup as needed. He glanced around, making sure no one could see him, and then pumped a victorious fist in the air, barely containing his excitement to a mere grunt. Sure he'd be nothing more than a babysitter, merely tasked to guarding the Lab technicians during their on-site analysis, but it was finally something that didn't involve paperwork and cubicles.

Lab technicians. Ron skimmed the words again, wondering if it'd be Malfoy he was to escort. He couldn’t imagine that old codger Badgens doing fieldwork.

There was a tap on the cubicle wall and Auror Tiedoll appeared. "You ready, Weasley?"

Ron hopped from his chair with a sharp, "Yessir!" and shoved the assignment scroll into his pocket—later he would smooth it out and frame it.

"Then grab the two lab rats and meet us by the lifts," Auror Barry instructed, appearing at Tiedoll's side. "Should be Smith and Malfoy."

"Yessir," Ron said again with a quick nod and hurried off toward the Enforcement's side of the department.

Halfway there, he finally thought, Smith?

-----

"You!" Ron squawked, pointing at the Hufflepuff annoyance he'd never expected to see again. Zacharias Smith eyed the rude finger, mouth pinching, but Ron didn't lower the hand, instead asking incredulously, "What are you doing here?"

Malfoy slanted a questioning look at Smith but said to Ron, "He is to join us, obviously."

"I didn't know Smith meant Zacharias Smith!" Ron snapped. He and the insulted man entered into a glaring contest with one another. "And I meant, what is he doing here? Why is he in the Lab? He's not supposed to be here!"

"Oh Merlin, not this again," Malfoy mumbled.

"I've been here since August," Smith growled. "You walk past my desk every time you come to flirt with Malfoy!"

"Ugh!" Ron and Malfoy exclaimed simultaneously.

Smith rolled his eyes at their disgust.

"Right," he said with a dramatic sigh, "It's Potter who does that."

"Oi!" Ron shouted, affronted on behalf of his friend. Like Harry would ever be interested in the Ferret.

"Oh shut it, both of you," Malfoy ordered, returning Ron's glare with equal force. "The evidence is supposed to be time-sensitive." He thumbed between himself and Smith. "Isn't that why we have to go as well? Can you really afford to stand here and argue with this imbecile on your first real assignment?"

"Ugh, fine, whatever," grumbled Ron. He sent one more disgusted look towards Smith and then motioned for the two technicians to follow him.

His assignment didn't seem so exciting anymore.

-----

"You've a desk in the Lab?" Ron asked belatedly as the three of them trudged through a muddy field towards the evidence's location. In front of them, Tiedoll and Barry appeared to be having their own private conversation. Ron felt distinctly left out, having to walk with Malfoy and Smith. He was an Auror too, wasn't he?

When Smith didn't immediately answer the question, Ron elbowed him, but quickly regretted the action. It was cold; Smith's ribs were hard.

"What?" Smith snapped, stumbling through some low, dead vines as he shot Ron a vicious look.

Ron too scowled as he sank past his ankle in a particularly soft spot, the charm on his boots keeping them warm but not clean. Already, with the mud packing on, his feet felt five pounds heavier. "A desk, you said you had a desk!"

"'Course I have a desk!"

"His is near Gigglebum's, in the back," Malfoy said helpfully, carefully walking a pace behind and watching their feet to avoid the same hazards that befell them. His shoes still shined, only hints of mud on the bottoms.

"Giggle-who's?" Ron asked distractedly, attention on purposefully stomping in a small puddle to splash the git. "There's more than one desk in that place?"

Malfoy gasped and flinched, wanting to dodge the filthy water but obviously afraid of taking an unsure step. The droplets barely grazed the edge of his robe. He glowered at the back of Ron's head—then sneezed.

"Gigglebum, you halfwit," Smith answered with a derisive snort. "The twit with the green hair and a nose bigger than yours. And of course there's more than one de—gyaaah!"

A sunken rock connecting with a toe was all it took to send Smith face-first into the mud.

"Oi, keep it down back there!" Barry hissed at them, looking stern, and then returned to his whispered conversation with Tiedoll.

"Karma." Ron sneered and Malfoy snickered, neither of them moving to aid their tumbled comrade.

Smith struggled to get up from where he'd tripped, grassy mud caked to his front. He spat out a mouthful of sludge, then spit a few more times to clear away the grainy flavour, and tried to find a part of his robe that wasn't soaked and dirty to wipe his face.

"Got to hell, both of you," he snarled, then shuddered. "I'm fucking freezing."

"I did mention that not all assignments in the D.M.L.E. Analytical Lab would be pleasant, did I not?" Malfoy sniffed, though he, too, was shivering and he gave Ron a light push to start moving again.

"Well then why the hell don't we Apparate to the spot if the evidence is so time-sensitive that an elf can't bring it in?" Smith complained from behind them, his shoes making suction noises in the mud as he tried to catch up.

"'Cause there're anti-Apparition wards all over the place, you tosspot," Ron scoffed, and Malfoy steadied him when his balance wavered in another soft spot. "We can't have the smugglers we're chasing popping in and stealing their stuff back, can we?"

"What've they got that can't be brought back in the lab then?" Smith demanded, sounding more irate.

"We will see when we get there," Malfoy said. He paused and shot an annoyed frown at Smith. "Stop complaining. This is why Badgens never asks you to work with him."

Smith scowled. "Well we can't all be like his precious little Draco, can we? You sure know how to kiss up, Malfoy. You rub his feet when he asks, too? Like you do for Potter?"

"Better than making my superiors cringe when I walk in the room," Malfoy replied with a dismissive wave of his hand before accepting Ron's help in stepping over a fallen tree.

"Whatever. I bet you suck his wrinkly—"

"Oi!" Barry growled at them from the tree line, Tiedoll having already disappeared into the forest. "Stop your gossiping and get up here already! Especially you, Malfoy! Badgens says you're the lab rat running lead on this! Supposed to be his best apprentice, aren't ya?"

"Damn you!" was Smith's frustrated shout.

-----

Not far into the trees was an old house—a shack really. The windows were merely small squares, the warped wood of the makeshift shutter over them doing little to block out the cold, and the planked boards of the walls not quite meeting so that the place whistled every time the wind blew. The roof was near caving in, holes punched through it in some areas. Ron first squinted through one hole at the leafless tree branches above and then lowered his unimpressed gaze to the rusted, metal bucket resting beneath it on the packed dirt floor.

"They were hiding here?" he asked, turning to face Harry.

"Beats the muddy hole we were hiding in," Harry said with a shrug.

Ron kicked the bucket, watching the water within ripple and splash. "So? Why do you need us?"

"The wards are up so they had to flee on foot. Couldn't take everything with 'em, you know?" Barry said, gesturing towards two bags on the ground that hummed with dark magic. He faced Harry. "Marian's report said you can't get the spells off them?"

Harry shook his head. "No, they're definitely specialized."

"Right. Well," Barry addressed Malfoy and Smith, "that's why you twats are here. Get to it."

Smith's scowl and subsequent grumbling were expected, but Ron was surprised when Malfoy didn't do the same, that he didn't even verbally retaliate as he normally did. Instead, Malfoy's expression was just on the cold side of neutral and he acted as though he hadn't even heard Barry's command, though he must have, since, after a brief look at Harry, he strode over to the two magic-guarded bags. Smith heaved a sigh and followed.

Ron glanced at Harry to exchange an eye-roll but found his friend's eyes were on Malfoy, expression as equally carefully blank as the Ferret's. Ron looked back and forth between the two. Malfoy was either truly focused on his task or purposefully ignoring Harry's stare, and Ron was reminded of earlier in the week when Malfoy had proclaimed Harry selfish. They must have had a fight.

A triumphant grin grew on Ron's face.

"I'm off to perimeter with Marian and Tiedoll," Barry said then, interrupting both Harry staring at Malfoy and Ron staring at Harry. He gave them a pointed look. "You two think you can guard the lab rats? Make sure they don't hurt themselves?"

"Yeah, we got it," Ron answered, waving him off.

"Keep an eye on the trees, too," Barry advised at the door. He shrugged. "They're not getting past Marian's perimeter, but they might try something anyway. They'll want their junk back, you know?"

Harry nodded along with Ron, but instead of going to the trees, his eyes returned to Malfoy as he said, "We'll keep watch."

-----

The trees creaked and lost several small branches every time a large gust of wind blew. The shack wasn't faring much better; the whole place seeming to tilt when cold air whisked through the cracks.

Ron shivered and reapplied his warming charm, flexing his gloved fingers to keep them from locking up. Watching Malfoy and Smith remove magical layer after magical layer on the two bags wasn't nearly exciting enough to keep him entertained. After Barry had left, Ron and Harry had set up their own protection and alarm spells around the shack in the unlikely event that anyone made it past their Senior Auror's perimeter, but not a single spell hummed. It had been over an hour already.

"You think they'll come back?" Ron asked Harry to distract them from Malfoy's steady, concentrated wand movements.

Harry shrugged. "Couldn't've gone far, though. Marian was right on top of them when they used a cloaking spell. Got the perimeter up not long after that, but they'd made it past our reach by then." He glanced through a crack in the wall at the swaying trees. "I imagine they're pacing around the edge, trying to find a weak spot."

Ron felt a thrill of excitement and he too searched the trees. "Yeah? Maybe we'll get to bag 'em before Barry does, you think?"

Rather than appearing eager at the notion, Harry sighed. "Sure. Maybe." He smiled unenthusiastically. "Or maybe we'll get lucky and just get to go home, no complications."

Ron sent him a questioning look but Harry stayed focused on the trees. Malfoy's attention apparently wasn't entirely absorbed in the spells since, from the corner of his eye, Ron saw Malfoy's wand hesitate at Harry's words. Malfoy shifted ever so slightly like he wanted to look back at them, but then a second later he was back to removing the spells.

-----

"Ha!" Smith shouted triumphantly, falling back on one hand and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the other. He smirked at Malfoy, who lifted an uninterested brow. "Guess you're not the best," he panted, sneering. "I'm finished and you're—what? Halfway through?"

Malfoy's apathy quickly disappeared, replaced with concern, while Harry and Ron moved beside them. "Finished how? You didn't remove all the spells, did you?"

"'Course I did!" Smith answered, though Malfoy's immediate shock made him uncertain. "Why wouldn't I? That's what we came to do."

"No, we came to remove any protection and binding spells holding the evidence to this location," Malfoy growled, scooting closer and swiftly moving his wand over Smith's assigned bag. His eyes grew wider and wider, his wand motion becoming more and more jerky, as the seconds passed.

"You fool," Malfoy breathed. "You removed the barrier charm."

"We're inside a barrier," Ron said, confused and growing nervous.

"Yes, but we don't know what was inside their barrier," Malfoy huffed, a hint of exasperation within his urgency.

"Probably just some stolen artefact!" Smith argued, though he didn't sound entirely confident. "They're smugglers, right?"

"Move aside," Harry said, stepping between the sitting technicians and motioning for Smith to ease back. "I'll layer some protection charms over it. Ron, go find—"

"Back off!" Smith barked, shoving Harry's legs. "There's nothing in there that's any danger to us!" He glared at Malfoy. "You're just angry that I'm better than you. I bet you're making it all up, that barrier spell stuff!"

"Stop acting like a petty twelve-year-old, you complete moron!" Malfoy hissed, rising to one knee. "This is not the time for that nonsense!"

Smith puffed up his chest defiantly. "There's nothing in there. Look, I'll show you!"

"Don't!" Ron shouted, jumping into action at the same time as Malfoy and Harry when Smith snatched the bag and unlatched the hook.

Malfoy got him first, grabbing the hand lifting the bag's flap while Harry and Ron each tugged Smith back by the shoulders. With his free hand, Malfoy braced against Smith's chest and pushed, yet only succeeded in sliding them all back a ways as Smith refused to relinquish the bag. Likewise, Malfoy wouldn't loosen his hold on Smith's hand, even when Smith kicked at him.

"Argh! Stop fighting like a girl!" Ron growled as the blunt fingernails of Smith's free hand grazed his cheek. "Just let go already!"

"You let go!" Smith bellowed and upped his thrashing. "I'm going to report all three of—"

Malfoy shrieked like a wet cat then, suddenly reeling away from Smith, and it took Ron a moment to realize that it hadn't been due to an injury but rather to surprise. At his side, Ron felt Harry stiffen, and Smith instantly froze, no longer trying to break free. Ron followed their shocked stares to the bag.

A pale hand had reached out from the inside of the bag and had Malfoy by the wrist.

"Eeyaaaah!" Smith shouted, flinging away the bag, subsequently causing Malfoy to slam into the wall as he was yanked along with it.

"The hell is that?" Ron yelled, then stumbled and fell on his back as Smith struggled between him and Harry to escape, knocking the air from his lungs. He rolled onto his side, gasping for breath, in time to see Malfoy try to jerk his wrist free, only to be pulled shoulder deep into the bag after a sharp tug from the hand.

"They're in the bag! They're in the bag!" Smith screamed, already on his feet and shoving through the shack door to the trees beyond.

"Ron!" Harry barked, by Malfoy's side in a flash, his arms wrapping tightly around Malfoy's waist. "Hex whoever's in the bag!"

Ron nodded and lurched to his feet, hesitating for one dizzying second, and then pulled his wand from his robes, rushing to Malfoy and Harry's aid. He tried to wedge his wand between Malfoy and the bag but there were so many limbs waving about between the three of them and whoever was pulling in Malfoy that Ron couldn't make heads or tails of where he should aim.

"Get back a bit," he urged Harry. "I can't see a damn thing!"

Malfoy shrieked again, though it became muffled and then non-existent as his entire top half disappeared into the bag; Harry was being drawn in, as well. Only their legs remained free, Malfoy's kicking and Harry's attempting to dig into the dirt floor for grip. Then, horrifyingly, both sets went suddenly lifeless, falling to the floor like limp noodles.

"No!" Ron cried and grabbed Malfoy's robe edge before both he and Harry could be pulled into the bag. The fabric began to rip under the strain, so Ron released it and wrapped his arms around Malfoy's legs instead, having to lunge to do so and consequently getting pulled headfirst into the bag himself.

To his surprise, Ron found himself emerging into none other than the shack, the same flimsy and cracked walls before him. He had a second to be confused, and then a wand was between his eyes, his ears ringing with the incantation, "Stupefy!" before everything went red.

-----

"Ron."

"Whatsits," Ron murmured groggily, his slobber making the already uncomfortably lumpy and hard wall he lay against even more unpleasant.

"Ron. Wake up."

Ron groaned in response and rolled his shoulder to shake off whatever was tickling him, not caring to learn whatever lesson he'd missed this time. The aftereffects of a Stunning Spell used at close range were, unfortunately, not unfamiliar to him. The charm was a favourite of the Senior Aurors during hands-on drills, and he'd been hit with it a painful amount of times already. He often wondered if they meant to give him brain damage.

But apparently damage wasn't the intent, experience was, because the headache made him abruptly remember that he wasn't in training anymore. He was a full-fledged Auror now, on a field assignment even, with Harry and Malfoy, and they'd bungled things rather nicely if he recalled correctly.

"Ron," the voice repeated, sounding increasingly frustrated by his lack of response and there was a weak tug at his robe sleeve.

"'M awake," Ron muttered, and eased his face away from what appeared to be a thick, cylindrical bar. He blinked crusty eyes at it and a moment later he realized that there was more than one bar. Several, in fact, in a nice little row, in front, beside, and around him. He blinked again, then gasped, "I'm in a cage!"

"Shh!" came the sharp command and he turned as best he could in the small space, squinting in the dim light until he barely made out a Harry-shaped shadow on the other side of the bars. Harry was peering worriedly in another direction, beyond the cage, but he whispered to Ron, "Be quiet. I don't know if we're being guarded or not but I'd rather them not know we're awake just yet."

"Who?" Ron asked in his best quiet voice—which wasn't very quiet at all, he had to acknowledge, but at least he was trying. He quickly made to shift to see Harry better but was suddenly jerked back by his own right hand while, at the same time from behind him, there was a loud clang and a yelp.

"Merlin, Ron! Be careful!" Harry hissed. "You'll give him a concussion!"

Ron sent Harry an annoyed yet exasperated look, because he still wasn't completely awake and therefore not fully aware of his situation yet, so he felt he deserved a little more lenience and quite a bit less chastising.

But, before moving again, he did take a moment to better survey his situation. The cage was small, not even enough room for him to stretch his legs and only tall enough for him to squat if he were on his feet. The floor beneath him was uncomfortable but not hard; felt like robe fabric almost. It was dark enough that he couldn't see further than a few feet, though when he looked to his right, Malfoy's bright hair was much easier to spot than Harry's black.

Malfoy had a hand pressed to his head and groaned weakly, apparently still in the stages of waking himself. He had suffered a much ruder awakening than Ron, by the looks of it, and when Harry muttered, "If he throws up, he's concussed," Ron sheepishly realized that he must have been the cause of Malfoy's injury in some way or other.

"You don't feel them either, do you?" Harry asked then, and when Ron looked at him, he held up his right hand. Strangely, his doing so also lifted Ron's left hand.

Confused, Ron studied their hands, noticing with a small intake of breath the metal bracelets that connected them.

"Handcuffs," he said, pulling his hand closer to study the binding, slowly so as not to tug painfully on Harry. His other hand was connected to Malfoy's left, he saw, but he couldn't feel either of the handcuffs linked around his wrists. Not the heavy weight of cold metal, not the sharpness of it digging into his skin; nothing to indicate that he was bound.

"I was beginning to worry that I'd lost feeling in my hands, but I could feel everything else," Harry said, then added, "Listen," as he shook his wrist. The chain linking the cuffs clearly moved, evident even in the dark, but it made no sound.

"I know what these are." Ron sighed, also moving his hands to watch the chains' silent dance. "I've read about them in some of the Senior reports. They're getting popular on the Continent. Auror Bookman wants us to try them here, even." With a small groan, he thumped his head back on the bars he sat against. "Guess we're getting to try them, aren't we?"

"Why'd anyone want handcuffs that can't be felt or heard?" Harry scoffed.

"Well," Ron began, looking up at the ceiling of the cage as he tried to explain, "because it makes you forget how limited you are, you know? Say you catch a guy, but he's telling ya you've got the wrong guy; it ain't him. But you put him in a pair of these and he forgets that, right? Or maybe he doesn't forget, but once an opportunity comes up, he's going to move on instinct. His mind might remember they're there, but his body won't. So he grabs for your wand, only to be yanked back. Hard to keep claiming he's innocent if he makes a move like that."

"So, for us," Harry said, thinking it over, "we'll try to escape, but it'll be hard to coordinate our movements if we can't feel each other pulling on the cuffs."

"Sounds about right," Ron answered with a shrug. He tugged at a sturdy bar. "I think we have to get past the cages first, though, before we worry 'bout that."

Harry smiled awkwardly. "Um, you're the only one in a cage."

"What?" Ron asked sharply and squinted past Harry in search of more bars. There were none. He did the same in Malfoy's direction but the results were the same.

"Why only me?" he growled, offended, and braced his feet on the bars to push as hard as he could. The cage did not yield. He gave up after a minute and huffed, "Where are we, anyway?"

Harry looked around them, though surely he couldn't see any better than Ron. "In the other bag, I'm thinking, the one Draco was working on." He made a frustrated noise. "We knew they were using the bags to smuggle magical animals, but I never thought they'd be as advanced as this."

"Oi, Malfoy," Ron muttered, reminded of their quiet third wheel, who had apparently fallen unconscious again. He poked at a slouched shoulder but received no response and frowned, concerned yet annoyed at himself for it.

"He's not had the same training as us," Harry said. He sounded a lot more worried than Ron felt.

"It'll just take him longer to wake up," Ron soothed. The last thing he needed was a panicky Harry on his hands.

"Maybe he'd be up already if you hadn't slammed him against your cage," Harry grumbled.

Ron scowled. "I didn't do it on purpose. I wasn't fully awake myself, you know."

Harry's expression was flat and unconvinced but instead of continuing the argument, he explained, "This bag's just expanded, kind of like Hermione's, but on a larger scale. The first bag was a Pocket doorway. Pockets are—"

"Bubbles in reality, I know," Ron interrupted. At Harry's questioning look, he added with a shrug, "I write up all the Senior Aurors' reports."

"All of them?" Harry asked in surprise. "Even Robards's reports?"

Ron shrugged again, a little confused. "Well… yeah. Why?"

"It's just, I knew you had a high clearance but you'd have to have a really high clearance for that, I thought."

Harry sounded impressed.

"Oh. Yeah, I've got the clearance, I suppose," Ron said, pleased, feeling a bit superior and privileged, but he wasn't accustomed to being the impressive one, so to turn the conversation, he asked, "How do you know so much about the bags, like which one we're in and all?"

Harry started to fold his arms over his chest in the thoughtful way he often did but stopped when he saw Ron's hand pulled in with the movement. "The first one, the Pocket, was easy enough. I've seen it before, everything looking the same except kind of frozen, too." He paused, then muttered embarrassedly, "Also, Draco shouted that it was a Pocket right before they stunned him. I'd been looking at the two smugglers before that so if he hadn't done, I probably wouldn't have noticed."

Ron chuckled lightly at the admission.

"But I did notice it when I woke," Harry continued seriously. "There were three of them by then, and you two were still out, so I didn't dare try anything. Apparently they'd a guy hiding in the trees, watching us."

"Within Marian's perimeter?" Ron asked sharply.

Harry nodded. "Yep. He was there the entire time, so the spell went up with him safely hidden inside it. All he had to do was stay quiet and disillusioned." Sighing then, Harry thumped his head against the bars of Ron's cage. "He got Smith, stunned him and dragged him back." He nodded toward their invisible ceiling. "They've got him for questioning, though it probably won't take them much longer to realize he's useless. I've been trying to wake you since they tossed us in here."

"How long have we been in here?"

"Maybe half an hour or so," Harry answered with a shrug. He stretched his legs out, Ron enviously watching him do so. "They had the third guy go back out and move the bags, too."

"So when Barry and the others return to the shack, we and the bags'll be missing. Great." Ron sighed. "I don't suppose they mentioned where our third smuggler was headed, did they?"

Harry shook his head. "They've got our wands, so he can get through the perimeter now and escape without being detected."

"Well, shit."

"Yep." Harry motioned toward Malfoy by flicking his fingers in that direction. His expression was anxious as he surveyed their yet unconscious companion. "Hey, nudge Draco. He shouldn't've been out this long. If he's got a concussion—"

"He hasn’t got a concussion," Ron snapped defensively, though he'd been beginning to wonder about that, too. He reached through bars to gently shake Malfoy's shoulder, but Malfoy only slid further until slumping lifelessly on the floor. Harry cursed quietly and Ron felt his body tense with fear—who'd have thought the day would come that he'd worry for Malfoy's safety?

"We've got to get him out of here," Harry said.

Ron made a frustrated noise. "How? We can't even get ourselves out of here! We don't even know where here is besides being insi—"

Ron cut off his rant as the room of sorts shook, the floor trembling and the tremor of it echoing around them. He and Harry both froze, bodies bracing for any other movement, but the it ended as quick as it had come and soon all was quiet and still again.

"Were they moving us, do you think?" Ron asked softly, peering upward through the cage bars.

"No, there's an equilibrating charm in here," Harry replied, voice also quiet, eyes also searching in the dark. "It wouldn't do them any good to smuggle a live animal only for it to get tossed about and hurt on the way in. No, that was something else."

"Maybe it's Marian and the others?" Ron suggested. "They're Senior Aurors. They wouldn't fall for an easy trick, right?"

"Sure," Harry said doubtfully. "Maybe."

Ron shifted in his cage, feeling more cramped than ever, and groaned in frustration. "We have to get out. I'm going to go mad in here."

The words had barely left his mouth when the blackness above them suddenly disappeared, only to be replaced with a bright, grey light. They both cried out at the abrupt change, ducking their heads and squeezing closed their eyes. There was the sound of fabric moving and a thump nearby. Ron peeked through cracked eyelids to see the blurry figure of a black-robed man standing across from them, the ceiling above him rolling open like a sardine can.

"The two Aurors are awake!" the man shouted, a lilt accenting his voice and his wand steady in his hand.

"Ignore 'em!" another man answered, having the same accent but sounding muffled and distant, as if on the other side of the Analytical Lab. "Grab the smart one and get back up here! Hex 'em if they try anythin'."

"Stay put now," the first man warned, keeping his wand levelled at the relatively free-moving Harry as he eased sideways toward Malfoy.

"Harm a hair on his head and I will crush you," Harry growled, moving to a squatting position, the hand bound to Ron gripping a bar of the cage so tightly that his tendons were taut ridges, knuckles splotchy red and white.

The man snorted, unbothered by the threat. "Not while you're here, you won't."

"But we're not going to be down here forever, are we?" Ron asked in a quietly dark voice, also staring firmly at their imprisoner.

The man didn't answer this time, having reached Malfoy's feet. He slowly knelt beside Malfoy, eyes leaving Harry and Ron for a quick moment as he surveyed Malfoy's prone body. He frowned, examining the blooming bruise that was now visible on Malfoy's forehead, then snorted again.

"What harm's to be done, when you two've already got to him?" he asked, smirking.

"Don't touch him!" Harry hissed in reply. Ron cleared his throat in what he hoped was not an obviously embarrassed manner.

Still unmoved by Harry's anger, the man leaned over and pressed the tip of his wand to the handcuff linked around a pale wrist. He took a small breath, a spell to remove the binding on his tongue, only to have another shuddering of the room interrupt him.

The three of them braced simultaneously against the movement. Harry stumbled, being thrown off balance from his squatted position, and ending up tugging Ron's hand through the bars, which pulled Ron's shoulder and face against them as well. Ron grunted in pain. Strangely, he heard their captor do the same.

"Draco!" Harry gasped, and Ron abruptly found himself being yanked in the other direction. He slammed into the other side of the cage with a yelp but managed to turn his head to see a very much awake Malfoy slamming a pointed elbow into their collapsed captor's face. The man's nose broke with a crunch and his head bounced off the floor with a sickening thunk.

The room stilled once more.

Their hard breathing was the only sound between them for a second. Harry and Ron gaped at Malfoy in shock, but then the other voice yelled from above, "Didjya feel that? Could ya feel it in there? Somethin's definitely happenin'! Get 'im up here already, would ya?"

"His wand!" Ron whispered harshly to Malfoy, pointing a frantic finger at the dropped wand that had rolled away from them. "Get his wand!"

Malfoy leaned for the wand, not so far that Ron's arm was in danger of being pulled from its socket, but enough that Ron had to twist his head in the other direction to keep his face from being smushed against the bars. Using his fingertips, Malfoy was able to roll the wand close enough to grab and then he was spinning around and scooting back toward the cage. He tapped the wand against the metal with a whispered spell but nothing happened.

"Toss it to me," Harry ordered quietly. "I've seen their cages before. I know a spell that'll cut through the bars."

"Cut the bars!" Ron squeaked as Malfoy hurriedly passed the wand over the top of the cage. "What do you mean—gyuh!"

Ron ducked down as Harry, after a flick and muttered chant, pressed the red-hot wand tip to the top of one bar. Malfoy glared when his hand bound to Ron was unintentionally jerked but said nothing while Harry continued to ease the wand through the bar, the metal giving way as it melted. The heat was great enough that Ron could feel it despite being separated by a foot or two; Harry, too, leaned away to prevent getting burned as he started working on another bar.

"Oi! Ya hear me or what?" the other voice called angrily then.

"Go faster!" Malfoy urged, shooting an anxious look upward. "You'll have to do this side, too!"

"I thought you were knocked out!" Ron hissed at him.

Malfoy scowled and tenderly touched his bruised forehead. "I should be, you oaf, but I was already awake before either of you." At Ron's disbelieving snort he added, "Lab technicians have to go through training, too, dolt. How else do you think I can work with things that try to kill me if I do not know how to handle them?"

"You're saying you've been playing possum this whole time?" Ron demanded, angered and embarrassed all at once. "I was actually worried about you, you arse!"

"I am touched, truly," Malfoy answered dryly.

"Stop arguing," Harry said calmly before Ron could reply, sweat trickling down his face as he began cutting through the bottoms of the melted bars.

"Oi! Frank? What's goin' on?" the other man sounded worried now. "You all right?"

"He'll close the top soon," Malfoy whispered, eyes meeting Harry's as the first bar fell from the cage. "Did you catch the spell they used to open it?"

Harry shook his head. "Just the one to get us out if it's already open. You?"

"No, he must have used a nonverbal spell," Malfoy said, sounding frustrated. "If he closes it, he'll put all sorts of barriers on the bag and we will never open it."

"Probably," Harry agreed and the third bar fell.

"That's enough, we can get through that," Ron said, moving in the cage to make room for Harry. "Cut Malfoy's side. Hurry."

Harry edged into the cage, careful to not touch the still hot ends of the bars. The fabric ceiling above groaned and then began to roll close just as he started on the first bar.

"Shit!" Ron shouted, no longer caring if they were heard.

"Two! Just do two!" Malfoy yelped. "I can squeeze through!"

"When we get out, the other two'll be waiting for us," Ron said hurriedly, knowing they had little time to plan their escape. "Use an offensive spell as fast as you can on at least one of them. They'll probably go for another Stunner, but there're three of us. That gives us three shots to take them out if they aren't smart enough to attack on both sides. If they are, then we only have two shots. I'll grab the wand if they stun you."

"Right," Harry agreed. The ceiling was already rolled halfway closed as he started on the bottoms of the bars.

"But what if they use the Killing Curse?" Malfoy asked, worriedly glancing at Harry.

"Right now they're just smugglers who've assaulted and kidnapped Ministry officials and resisted arrest. With this setup, they can't be so stupid they'd make the mistake of trumping those charges up to murder," Ron explained, but he could see that it did little to mollify Malfoy.

"All right!" Harry shouted triumphantly and pushed out the second bar. He reached his free hand for Malfoy. "Hurry!"

The three of them crawling through the cage with their hands cuffed to one another was an awkward sideways movement for Ron. Malfoy cried out when his arm brushed the hot metal of one cut bar as he forced himself through the small opening on his side of the cage. Already the room was dark again, the opening in the ceiling a sliver of light above them.

Ron grabbed Malfoy's wrist, feeling Malfoy do the same to him to lock them together, and pulled while shouting at Harry, "Go! Say it! Use the spell!"

Harry's hand was in the air, waving the wand in a large circle and shouting something that became inaudible as the room began to shake once more. Ron's hand was in the air with Harry's, being connected the way they were, and he first felt a tug on it before he was lifted off his feet entirely. It was almost like a Portkey, the feeling of being hooked and drawn in, only there wasn't quite the same pressure and the distance much shorter.

Almost immediately, they were bursting into bright light, Harry shouting, "Expelliarmus!" in Ron's ear before their feet were on solid ground again. A red spell—Stunner, most likely—whizzed right in front of his nose and he jerked back, taking Malfoy with him, to avoid getting hit. He twisted them, protectively tucking Malfoy between himself and Harry like he'd been trained to do with civilians, but no further spells came their way. As soon as it had started, it was over.

"There was just the one," Harry panted, taking in their unknown surroundings of trees and muddy ground. "The third guy is probably keeping watch again." He gestured to the stiff man collapsed on the ground in front of him. "He got off a Stunner pretty quick but I've got him in a Body-bind now."

"Go ahead and tie him up," Malfoy advised. "We have to get out of here and we can't drag him along."

"Where are we?" Ron asked as he looked around. "In the forest? Did he drop the bag?"

"No, we're in the other bag," Malfoy said, as if suddenly realizing it. "Look," he added, pointing at the trees. "They're not moving, there is no wind. Can you hear anything?"

Ron and Harry both went still, listening for any sound. There was none. As Malfoy mentioned, there was no wind to ruffle leaves, no wildlife scuttering about or chirping. It was almost painfully silent, the only sound in Ron's ears being that of his heartbeat.

"Those fools," Malfoy breathed, breaking the silence. "They put their smuggling bag inside the other one and it's made the Pocket unstable."

Ron released his breath, if only to create more noise. "Why? What's that got to do with anything?"

"The Extension Charm is, at its most basic, a Pocket. The first bag was simply a doorway into a Pocket, where the doorway itself was confined in another Pocket in the bag," Malfoy explained. "By bringing the other bag through the doorway, they have trapped a Pocket within a Pocket."

Harry turned to face him, blinking in confusion. "A Pocket within a… You've lost me."

"You can't have a bubble of reality within itself," Ron said, oddly understanding Malfoy's explanation. "There is reality and then there is the Pocket space that separates ours and other realities, ones like death. You can put one reality inside another, but you can't put the same thing inside of itself." He faced at Malfoy. "Right?"

"Essentially, yes," Malfoy approved, giving Ron a calculating look. He arched a brow. "I'm impressed, Weasel."

"Yeah, well, I've read a lot of reports these past few months." Ron sighed.

"The most important point is—" Malfoy cut off as the ground began to shake beneath them. They each grabbed onto one another for support. Malfoy spoke over the tremors. "See? Unstable. We have to get out of here."

"What's going to happen if we don't?" Ron asked, finding himself shouting at the end as the tremors stopped.

Malfoy lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. "I do not know. We could be trapped in this shifted space of reality or we could be killed. That's really a question for the Department of Mysteries."

"So we need to get out of here," Harry said, bending over to pick up the bag that they'd originally been trapped in, "and we need to get this out of here."

"So how do we do that?" Ron asked.

"Well, theoretically," Malfoy started, not looking entirely confident, "the realities are two different points in space. If that is true, we can Apparate from one to the other."

Harry lifted his bound hand. "Then let's get these handcuffs off and try it."

Malfoy shook his head. "Strong spells transcend realities."

"Meaning…?"

"We have to get beyond the Apparition wards in the normal reality in order to Apparate," Ron answered with a sigh.

"Fantastic," Harry muttered. "Trapped by our own spells."

"Yes, well, let's cry about it as we move, hmm?" Malfoy suggested, taking a step forward.

"What about him?" Ron asked, nodding toward the freshly bound captor-turned-captive. "Should we toss him in the bag with the other guy?"

"We don't know how to open it," Harry stated.

"And we can't waste time figuring it out," Malfoy finished. He sneered at the frozen man. "Leave him here. Even if he escapes those ropes and the Body-bind, we will be well on our way elsewhere."

"As long as we can get the bag out of here and the Pocket doesn't collapse upon itself, we should be able to retrace our steps to his friend and catch them both," Harry suggested. "Smith isn't here, either. My guess is they have him hidden somewhere else or he's being used as a hostage in case Marian and the others find the third guy before he gets out of the perimeter, so we need to hurry."

Ron bent over and picked up the smuggler's wand, forcing Malfoy to lean as he did. "All right then, let's go. We can get these cuffs off while we move, too, right?"

"We'll see," Malfoy said, but he was frowning uncertainly at the handcuffs.

-----

The walk wasn't too terribly unbearable. The air was still quite cold but with no wind blowing it took little time for Ron to work up a sweat. He seemed to be the one taking lead in their search for the ward's edge, Malfoy and Harry a step behind him on either side but barely so, since they could only lag so much before Ron would yank the handcuffs and make them stumble forward. He felt like he was leading two prisoners instead of two comrades, as quiet as they both were.

Harry had handed the first wand to Malfoy, who'd been whispering spells over the cuffs for the past half hour but had yet to figure out how to remove them. Malfoy complained that it was because the wand was no good, that it didn't harmonize with him well enough. Ron openly ignored him but Harry actually seemed to be lost in thought rather than listening—brooding again, apparently.

The tremors were becoming more frequent. Ron ended up on his knees in cold mud, Malfoy and Harry almost tugged down with him, during one particularly shaky quake—or so Ron claimed; Malfoy insisted that it had been no worse than the others and that Ron just had bad balance. Ron told him to stuff it.

They'd been walking for a half hour when Harry finally spoke up, ending the stillness that had fallen.

"I… I was worried about you," he said quietly, and for a moment, Ron was confused, thinking Harry meant him, but then he realized that Harry was talking to Malfoy.

"I know," Malfoy replied softly. There was a pause before he added, "Thank you. For worrying."

Ron rolled his eyes at their sentimental moment, then abruptly stopped walking, suddenly annoyed, and rounded on Malfoy, who grabbed onto his front for balance at the unexpected halt. "Why's it okay for him to be worried, but not me?"

"What?" Malfoy asked, shoving away from him with a scowl.

"Earlier! Back in that cage. I said I'd been worried about you and you were all nasty about it!" Ron snapped. "You didn't give me a thank you!"

"Ugh, really Weasel?" Malfoy scoffed, and then sighed at Ron's continued glare. "It's not that I am not thankful, because I am, but it's you. And me. I cannot simply accept your concern like it is normal between us." He shuddered exaggeratedly. "It is beyond creepy, to be honest. Please refrain from expressing your feelings. It unnerves me."

"You did call him an arse right after you said you were worried," Harry supplied and Malfoy nodded in insistent agreement.

"Yes, that too," he said. He pointed at his purple bruise. "I also have you to thank for this, which I happened to be fully awake for, just so you know."

"Ahh, whatever. You're fine," Ron said, waving off the grievance and turning to begin their trek once more, as though they'd merely stopped for a quick chat. Truthfully, the argument didn't seem worth pursuing anymore, now that Malfoy had a fighting point and Harry to back him.

Malfoy grumbled something under his breath about a ruined moment and stubbornly didn't move until he was jerked forwards, acting his role of prisoner, but it didn't take long for relieving the tension on the cuffs to outweigh his irritation. Within a few steps, he was taking quicker strides to Ron's side and they were slogging through the mud together.

-----

"I didn't want to leave that night," Harry started again a few minutes later, once more being the one to dispel the quiet after another tremor. He was watching his footing when Ron glanced back at him, though his eyes distractedly darted at Malfoy.

"I didn't want to leave, with us having fought like that," he continued, shifting the bag thrown over his shoulder, more as an awkward gesture than to adjust the weight of it.

"Then why did you?" Malfoy asked, and though his voice was quiet, it had bite.

Harry made an aggravated noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "You know why. I'm— Don't start that. Not now."

"Start what?" Malfoy demanded. "And why not now? Because Weasley is here?" He scoffed. "Because Salazar forbid he hear."

"Oh, don't even try to use that excuse against me!" Harry snapped, and both he and Malfoy stopped walking to glare at one another, forcing Ron to do so, as well. "I distinctly recall being thrown into the stacks because you didn't want us to be seen."

Us? Ron wondered resentfully, reminded that Harry and Malfoy had become super friends recently.

"We were at work," Malfoy hissed, and it was awkward trying to see his and Harry's faces both, the way they were arguing directly behind Ron's back.

"Then you shouldn't have started anything at work," Harry countered.

"Started—! You are the one that gets riled by a simple smile."

"That was hardly a simple smile. Simple smiles don't involve hands."

"Then don't invade my space! If you had not—"

"Is now really the time for this?" Ron interrupted, angrily giving them both a yank as he started onward.

They both stumbled at the jolt, Malfoy growling, "Ow! Weasel, you ass!" as he hurried to keep pace with Ron's long legs, but Harry continued the argument as though Ron hadn't even spoken, as though he himself weren't being dragged along.

"You didn't seem particularly unhappy at the time," he said. "In fact, you were more than happy to clear your desk for space, if I recall."

"What?" Ron asked, confused by what Malfoy's desk and needing space had to do with smiles and hands.

Malfoy's face blossomed red, though his voice was rough with anger. "If I at all expressed delight, then you may congratulate yourself on being an excellent liar, as you have since made it clear that someone like me is not worth your time."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, releasing it a moment later with an expression of regret. "That— I didn't mean that. I was—God. I was just so angry, okay?" He sent Malfoy a pleading look. "Draco, you know I didn't mean that."

"I am not sure what I know," Malfoy muttered bitterly.

Harry stopped them again, though this time he pushed Ron back so he could step closer to the Ferret.

Malfoy appeared startled by the abrupt approach, as was Ron—who found himself mystified by the sudden urge to move protectively between the two, not knowing whom it was he wanted to protect. But Harry didn't appear threatening; if anything, he looked desperate.

"I didn't mean that, I swear to you," he said earnestly, apologetic eyes firm on Malfoy's doubtful ones. He hesitated, as if searching for words, then added, "I was angry and… hurt, and I wanted to hurt you back. I'm sorry."

"You had no right to be angry," Malfoy said, defensive, though not harsh. He rubbed at his abused wrist, not meeting Harry's gaze. "You shouldn't have even been hurt."

"I—" Harry bit off the frustrated retort, dropping his head for a moment in way Ron recognized as him trying to regain his patience. When he looked up again, his expression was hard but easily spotted as forced. "How could I have not been hurt?" He lifted a hand at Malfoy. "You prefer your money and name, right? Isn't that what you want?"

"Oh, is that what I said?" Malfoy huffed. "Because I certainly do not remember it that way."

Ron looked back and forth between the two as their incredulous and irritated expressions grew. Merlin's beard, but they were having a weird argument.

"Then please, enlighten me," Harry growled, "for I distinctly recall you worrying about your inheritance."

"Yes, Harry!" Malfoy practically shouted, and it was beyond weird to hear him use Harry's name so familiarly. "Yes, it is a big decision that will affect several aspects of my life, so excuse me for not simply riding off into the sunset with you, no worries. Excuse me for needing some time to consider all of the consequences, the good and the bad!"

"The good and the—ugh!" Harry peered skyward as if seeking answers, exasperation driving the exaggerated gesture. "Is money really that important to you?"

"It's not about the money!" Malfoy snapped, then shook his head, hand scrabbling in the air for words. "No, no, fine. Yes, it's a little about the money, but will you please stop accusing me of being so shallow? As though that is the only reason for my hesitation. As if I haven't spent my entire life expecting one outcome, only to have you come along and completely rewrite everything. Do you truly not understand that you can't just thrust an utterly new ending at me and expect me to go for it, no questions asked?"

"I understand that if you were at all committed to us, then it wouldn't matter," Harry said darkly—and there was that us again.

Malfoy half-shrieked, half-growled.

"The mere fact that I didn't outright say, 'Are ya outta ya bleedin' mind?' should tell you how committed I am!" he countered, looking hurt. "All I asked for was a little time to think!"

Malfoy's slang accent was terrible, Ron secretly thought. Out loud, he flatly asked, "Is it really necessary to yell? You're not even a foot from each other."

They blatantly ignored him, Harry cynically continuing, "Oh! How foolish of me! I suppose I should be thrilled that you'd consider marrying me, right?"

"Whoa, what!" Ron yelped, gawking at his best friend.

"No! You should be thrilled that I would consider giving up everything I've ever known because I'm so—I'm—" the words seemed caught in Malfoy's throat but he managed to choke out, "Because I am so fucking in love with you, you great dunce!"

Ron sucked in such a sharp breath at the unexpected admission that he gagged on his own spit, making horrendous gurgle noises as his mind tried to make sense of what he'd heard. But before it could do so, Harry was moving, and Malfoy was moving, and there were arms flying and twisting and Ron was just so incredibly confused because they'd all been just standing there, screaming at one another, but now Harry and Malfoy were practically wrapped together and Ron's arms were crossed in front of him because of the handcuffs and he was being pulled in against them, and they were kissing, right there, with his own face not a foot from their locked lips.

They were kissing!

Harry and Malfoy!

Kissing!

"Uurrgyaaah!" Ron shouted, struggling and pulling his arms uncrossed so he could back as much away as possible. "Stop it! Stop it! Great Merlin, stop it!"

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured between sloppy, wet noises.

"Me too," Malfoy breathed.

"No, no, no!" Ron chanted, yanking as hard as he could.

Harry and Malfoy let him have their arms that were connected to him, but Malfoy stepped in closer and Harry squeezed his free arm tighter around him, still kissing even as Ron made them stagger with all of his thrashing.

"Oh sweet Helga, stoooop it," Ron half-sobbed, half-whimpered, part of him wanting to physically push them apart but the rest of him not wanting to touch the dirtiness that was his best mate kissing a Malfoy. With a groan, he recalled all of their evidently finished argument, with the smiles and hands and clearing of desks, as well as the way they'd been constantly staring and teasing and sharing secrets, and Harry fucking flirting with Malfoy over ice cream—Godric's balls of steel, but how had he not noticed?

And it was Malfoy who took pity on Ron first, not Harry, that Ferret-kissing traitor. Malfoy drew back to send Ron a sympathetic yet disapproving look, letting Harry instead pepper kisses on his cheek.

"It's not like we ever hid it from you, you know," he said. Harry murmured something to him and he snickered before adding, "Well, that doesn't count. We were at work. It is a sturdy desk, though."

"Uggghhh." Ron groaned, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes to obliterate the images that statement called forth. "Stop it, please!"

As if responding to Ron's desperate request, perhaps even understanding his anguish, the ground began to shake.

-----

"I don't see what the problem is," Harry said, grumpily walking on Ron's left, Ron not allowing him to walk slower with Malfoy so they could make eyes at each other. "You and Hermione were, ah, affectionate at Hogwarts, during the battle."

"That was one kiss," Ron snapped, tightening his grip on Harry's upper arm. "And it was a life or death situation."

"One long kiss," Harry muttered.

"This is a life or death situation, too," Malfoy offered, defying Ron's threatening glare with a dismissive sniff. "The quakes are getting longer, the intervals between shorter. We clearly do not have much time…"

"Time that I don't want to waste watching the two of you snog!" Ron barked in response. He turned the glare on Harry. "Hermione and I weren't chained to you. And what the hell?" He jerked his head to indicate Malfoy. "Him? Really, mate? Malfoy. You can do better, you know."

"Unlikely," Malfoy huffed.

Harry hummed and tilted his head back for a quick wink at his annoying lover. "It's hard to get better than perfect."

Malfoy beamed with delight.

Ron moaned in disgust.

"Ugh, I'm gonna throw up," he complained. "Weren't you fighting ten minutes ago? What happened to that?"

"It'll work out," Harry assured, not even a hiccup in his confidence.

"I know a solicitor or two," Malfoy said airily. "Surely there is a loophole I can exploit."

Ron gave Harry a pointed look. "See? Do you see what you're thinking of marrying into?"

Harry smiled, laughed a little. "Yeah. I see."

"That's not a family tree you want to go barking up," Ron warned.

"It's your own fault for setting us up."

Ron choked on his spit again. "Ack—what—never—I—ugh—"

"Oh hush, Weasel," Malfoy said pleasantly, the same hum in his voice as with Harry's. "It is too late now. The proposal has been made and accepted."

"I will fight this every step of the way," Ron promised, but he worried that he already sounded a bit defeated. Perhaps just frustrated. "I mean, I have to win at something, right? Since I'm obviously not cut out for the Aurors."

"What?" Harry asked, stopping.

"Oh, Weasley," Malfoy sighed, also stopping but taking an extra step so he could turn and face Ron. "It's one thing to not notice my relationship with Harry," Ron made a face that Malfoy ignored, "but do you honestly not understand what sort of position you are being groomed for?"

Ron snorted, having a mocking tone as he said, "Sure I do. Secretary."

"What?" Harry repeated, more incredulous than confused this time.

"Are you really so dense?" Malfoy asked crisply. "You have a higher clearance than most of the Senior Aurors. You sit in on the Department Heads' meeting, for Merlin's sake!"

"Yeah, I take good notes, apparently," Ron groused. He started forward again. "Won't Hermione be impressed."

Harry and Malfoy both resisted and forced him to a halt. Of all things, Harry looked annoyed.

"You're handed highly-classified material on a daily basis," he said angrily. "Not to simply pass off to the next department, but to read and understand. And you're only a rookie!"

"And?" Ron snapped, growing annoyed himself, darting dirty looks between the two. "What of it? So I get to read all the bloody reports. Big deal. I'm just getting to read about what everyone else gets to do." He nodded at Harry. "What you gets to do."

"I'm in the field!" Harry exclaimed, as if he didn't realize how completely awesome his job was.

"And I'm what? Not good enough to be the field, apparently," Ron growled. "If they gave me a chance—"

"You," Malfoy interrupted crossly, "are being trained for an entirely different position in the department, you daft ape."

Ron's face scrunched up in disbelief. "What position? Gopher boy?"

"No, idiot. One that's going to have you working with Robards soon!"

"Wha—"

"He's not lying," Harry said—and did he sound a tad jealous, or was it Ron's imagination? "Robards said it to Marian just last week, after he'd handed us the assignment. Said he expected a lot from you, how impressed he was with you in training and that you'd been sticking it out through the desk work like a true, hardworking Auror."

"Why would he say that?" Ron asked, trying to be sceptical but already his heart had begun racing at the possibility. He swallowed nervously, and then shook his head. Like a bucket of cold water, disappointment doused the excitement. The more he thought about it, the harder it was to believe. "That doesn't make sense. I'm not even half as good as you."

"Oh sure, I think faster on my feet in a wand fight, and I'm quicker at getting out spells, and maybe I'm a little stronger," Harry said, blushing at his own boastful claims, "but Ron, you won every team challenge during training when you were captain. Why? Because you learn your players and strategize. In a game of chess, I'd be a Knight, maybe even the King, but you're the chess master, the hand that makes our moves."

"Despite being an utter fool otherwise, you are a good leader," Malfoy agreed dryly. "That paperwork Robards has you do is to give you the knowledge needed to hold a high position one day, if not as the Head itself."

Ron blinked back and forth between Harry and Malfoy, wanting so desperately to believe them but years of experience as only a sidekick making him cautious. It was true that the teams he captained had never lost during their training exercises, that he was much better at leading than outright duelling, but did he really have a shot at being Head Auror one day? Harry seemed the obvious choice, being the Hero and powerful wizard that he was, but Ron had noted on several occasions where Harry's luck, rather than a tactical move, had seemed to be the deciding factor in a duel. Luck was a risky thing to rely on.

Great Merlin, was it true? Did Robards really think so highly of him?

"Don't let it go to your head," Malfoy scoffed, clearly reading Ron's line of thought.

Ron stared at him, studying almost. "You're not tricking me, right? Because if you are—"

"God, you're dense."

"Hey," Harry said suddenly, sounding surprised. He paused for a second and then took off walking at a fast pace, tugging along Ron and Malfoy. "Hey! Isn't that the edge of the perimeter?"

Ron's head jerked up and down between squinting in the distance and watching his footing. He thought he saw what appeared to be the liquid wall of the perimeter spell that Marian had tied to the anti-Apparition wards, but he couldn't be sure. Despite being the blind one, Harry had always had a better eye for spotting the charms.

Better at field work but not at leading, Ron thought with a grin.  A Knight but not the master.

"Thank the Founders." Malfoy sighed. "My toes are freezing and the mud will never come out of these robes if I do not hand them to Zizzle immediately."

"Also, we're no longer in danger of dying some unknown, possibly painful death, but yes, great about your robes," Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he didn't actually feel bothered by Malfoy's whine. In fact, he was feeling almost giddy. He elbowed his friend, the one on his left side. "See, Harry? That is what you'll have to live with, you know."

Harry laughed—a bit too happily.

-----

As it turned out, Barry and the others had happened upon an Obliviated Zacharias Smith in the forest and, not long after that, discovered the third smuggler hiding with the other bag in a muddy alcove. Badgens himself had been called from the Lab and an Enforcement squad was sent on a manhunt for Ron, Harry, and Malfoy, their superiors fearing the worst. It had taken Badgens less than ten minutes to discover the Pocket doorway in the bag, and less than that for Robards to convince the third smuggler to share information. Thus, had the three of them stayed put—as any toddler knew to do, Auror Marian angrily assured them—then they would have been rescued within minutes of their initial escape.

Ron wasn't too focused on the scolding, however, nor did he waste any more time being anxious over Harry's future marriage to the Ferret, because when they were brought back to the base camp of sorts, he was greeted with the wonderful, beautiful sight he loved most: bushy brown hair and lovely brown eyes.

"Oh Ron!" Hermione cried, throwing herself onto him—and Godric be damned if it didn't make him feel like a big, strong man when she did that.

"Hermione!" Harry yelped, he and Malfoy still firmly attached to Ron. "I thought you were in the Amazon!"

"I was," she replied, and there was a tiny sniffle in her voice, though she looked entirely composed when she drew away from Ron's chest. She had on her lecture face. "But Ron and I are married, Harry, and marriages need a strong beginning. I can't spend all my time in the rainforest and leave my husband by himself."

"And who have you been talking to?" Malfoy asked suspiciously. "To make you suddenly realize that."

Hermione blinked at him, as if only just realizing he was there. Then she gave a haughty sniff and turned away again. "No one. I understood it on my own." Feeling the weight of Malfoy's disbelieving stare, she muttered, "Perhaps a shaman—"

"Perhaps." Malfoy snorted.

"Whatever; it doesn't matter now," Ron chirped, all his worries just disappearing, as though he hadn't spent the last couple hours as a captive and then trudging in the cold through icky mud. As if he hadn't had to witness Harry snogging Draco Malfoy.

He hugged Hermione close, ignoring Harry and Malfoy's protests as they were pulled in, too. He drew back a little to smile at Hermione, feeling like his affection for her was overflowing. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me too," she said, and tipped up on her toes to kiss him.

"Spare me the sentiment," Malfoy groaned, yanking on his handcuff. "No one wants to see you have at it, so just stop!"

"Excuse me!" Harry called to a nearby Enforcer. "Can we please get these removed? Where's Amus Badgens? What's the hold up?"

Ron squeezed Hermione tighter and grinned into the kiss, acting oblivious to Harry and Malfoy's protests.

Sometimes, it wasn't so bad being just Ron Weasley.

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