Weasley, Ron Weasley

Chapter One: At The Sleazy Weasel

Of all the secret hidden evil lairs in all the world, she had to walk into the one in which I was being held captive.

Upon further reflection, I suppose it was fortuitous that she showed up, otherwise I might have ended up in a million little bloody pieces. But I do hate being rescued by a woman. And her especially. If it had been any other beautiful woman, perhaps my pride could have handled it, but it was her. Damn her.

Now, let me explain. I had first encountered Lila Parker at the Sleazy Weasel, where I was seeking information. She was the entertainment, and I can tell you, I was very entertained. In order to disguise my true reasons for being there, I ordered a drink and took a seat.

"Mr. Weasley!" That was Freddy Nott, the owner of the Sleazy Weasel. I knew he wasn’t happy to see me, but he put up a valiant pretense. "What can I get you?"

"Get me a tequila sunrise, shaken not stirred," I said, snapping my fingers. "And, Nott? Don’t skimp on the alcohol."

He scurried off like the vermin he is, and I leaned back in my chair as I waited for the show to begin. I’ll admit I didn’t recognize her at first; whoever her cosmetologist was, I wanted his number. When she took the stage, she had my attention. I think it was her hair, the way the long brown waves curled around her slim shoulders. Or maybe it was her eyes, scanning the room, but making it look like she only had eyes for me. But then again, it was probably the skintight blue spangled dress she had on which accentuated every curve.

She began to sing. It wasn’t the best voice I’d ever heard; that belonged to a short chubby bald fellow I knew over in Bristol. No, she wasn’t the best, but she was good. She was damn good. She sang an interesting song, a song that touched my heart.

Yet, I found that the woman’s song really touched me. It must have been the alcohol. While she was crooning, I drowned two tequila sunrises and a black Russian.

My eyes scanned the club. Every man’s eyes were on the singer. She was certainly worth watching. Her soul seemed to pour out with every word. Fortunately for me, I was able to tear my eyes away from the sight, just in time to see the nefarious Death Eater Draco Malfoy enter. He was usually worth a few laughs and a pocketful of information if you caught him on a good night and the price was right. I knew he’d still be there when I was ready, so I relaxed and waited for the woman to finish her song.

She let her hand drop to her side and took a graceful bow. As she stood straight again she flashed a smile in my direction. I smiled to myself; there would be time for that later.

But first, there were other matters to attend to. I slowly got out of my chair and made my way over to where Draco Malfoy and his groupies were sitting. Unfortunately I knew them all; we had gone to school together. I recognized Pansy Parkinson despite the nose job, which had done her a world of good, Crabbe and Goyle looked exactly the same as they always did, and I believe that was Blaise Zabini lounging in the corner.

Malfoy saw me first. His lips moved into a smirk and he snapped his fingers, indicating that the waiter should bring drinks. Pansy soon followed his lead, her eyes looked me up and down, a perfect expression of disgust covered her newly paid-for features.

"Weasley," Malfoy drawled. I hated it when he did that and he knew it; that’s why he did it. "To what do we owe this unexpected displeasure?"

I casually took a seat, well aware that Crabbe and Goyle, thickheaded as they were, had taken out their battered wands.

"I want information, Malfoy," I replied calmly. No matter how much he grated me, long years of experience and hard work had taught me to ignore him. Beating him to a bloody pulp came later.

"And I want a cauldron made of solid gold," Malfoy retorted. "The question is, can you pay for it?"

It was the same old retort. Every time we encountered one another, Malfoy made digs about lack of money, as I was poor during my school days. But as a spy who rescued people day in and day out with a brand new broomstick every day of the week, I was wealthy now.

Malfoy wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t poor by any means, but the Malfoy fortune had disappeared when Lucius Malfoy was killed. The current Malfoy made money through various illegal dealings and he never passed up a chance to lighten my wallet.

I cavalierly tossed a bag weighted down with galleons onto the table. Malfoy didn’t even flinch, nor did he take his cold grey eyes from mine. The others, however, pushed each other away to get at the bag. Still staring at him, I opened it and poured it’s contents onto the table. That resulted in more scuffling between his minions. Malfoy didn’t bat an eye.

He snapped his fingers again and a waiter came running. Malfoy whispered a few words in the waiter’s ear. He nodded and ran off again. I narrowed my eyes, expecting dirty tricks. But I had had long years of experience dealing with Malfoy. So I made small talk.

"Still the scum of the earth, Malfoy?" I asked, sipping my fruity drink.

"That’s not what your sister said the other night," he smirked.

I balled my fists and did my best to remain calm. But oh, how I longed to rip his head off.

"Last time my sister spoke of you, she called you a disgusting, ugly rodent," I replied. Slowly I began to unclench my fists. "I agreed with her."

"Touche," Malfoy said. "But you didn’t come here to discuss your sister."

We were interrupted at that moment. I think that moment is branded into my mind forever. Malfoy’s features actually lit up into a smile, a genuine smile, and he gestured to the woman who approached.

"Weasley, meet Lila Parker. Lila, this is Ron Weasley, perhaps you’ve heard of him." The corners of his lips twitched.

I examined Lila Parker. Her dress wasn’t as vibrant as it had been, but it was as tight. It was tiger striped and cut low. I think it was the clothes that threw me off at first, that and the heavy makeup. But when I looked directly into her eyes, I knew. I knew, and I nearly had a heart attack.

Fortunately I’d had extensive training to handle surprises. I covered my surprise with a hasty cough.

"A pleasure I’m sure. Do you always include you’re harem in your underhanded dealings, Malfoy?"

She was not as experienced as I. Her face had paled and she was sweating. But I’ll say this much for her: she handled the shock fairly well. I briefly wondered how Pansy and Blaise felt about this new threat to their positions as Malfoy’s women.

"Lila" held out her hand. "It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Weasley. I’ve heard so much about you from Draco."

I nearly lost all the alcoholic drinks I had consumed right there. Draco? How disgusting.

"Draco," Pansy whined, "when will this be finished so we can go home?"

I was definitely going to be sick.

"When it is and not a moment sooner," Malfoy said brusquely. "Sit down, Lila. Join us for a drink. Weasley and I were just discussing what he wanted."

All eyes turned to me and all I could think of was the churning of my stomach. "Lila’s" eyes were staring at me beseechingly. I hoped she had a good excuse. I managed to pull myself together.

"If you insist on conducting business in front of your entourage...so be it." I took a deep breath and turned my attention from "Lila" to Malfoy. "Where is he, Malfoy?"

He opened his grey eyes wide, feigning surprise. "Why, who ever do you mean?"

"Tiny Tim," I said sarcastically. "Wormtail. We could care less about Voldemort right now, besides, he’s not my job. I want Wormtail. Where is he?"

Malfoy pretended to think. "Is this a personal vengeance thing?"

"Does it matter?" I countered.

"Just curious. Why should I tell you where my master’s number two henchman is?"

"Your master?" I scoffed. Then with lightening fast reflexes, which were fortunately not marred by the alcohol, I reached across the table and yanked up his sleeve. His forearm was blank.

Malfoy glared at me in surprise, unfeigned this time. His group gasped, with the exception of "Lila". She just looked like she had been hit with a ton of bricks.

"Oh, yes, I know all about you, Malfoy. You prance around England pretending you’re the Big Bad Death Eater, Voldemort’s right-hand vermin, when in fact you’re too scared to actually go ahead with it. How many years have you put it off? I’m guessing that with Daddy gone, Voldie’s impatient to brand you."

Malfoy looked as if he could spit nails, but I was rather enjoying myself.

"So just spill, Malfoy. All the important people know you’re just a dirty double–crosser. But I know you the best of all. I’ve made it my job to know you."

That important people comment was for her benefit, but she just continued to stare at Malfoy.

Malfoy looked surly; poor kid. "I don’t know. No one’s seen him in weeks. For all I know, he’s dead."

I peered at him, trying to tell if he was speaking truthfully. With Malfoy, it’s difficult to tell.

"Anything else?" I asked nicely.

"No." The sarcasm was back. It was very difficult to knock Malfoy off his stride for long. "You’d better be careful, Weasley, there are a lot of wizards who’d like you dead."

"A few witches too, I’d bet." That got her attention, just as I’d intended it to. "But, Draco Malfoy, caring about my life? I think I’ll just drop dead from shock."

Malfoy folded his arms over his chest and glared. He is very good at that. "Let’s say you’re the lesser of two evils."

"Funny," I said, "I’ve said that about you many times. Well, chaps and chapesses, this has been fun, but I have to run."

I stood up and began to walk away. Just as I was at the door, Blaise came up to me. I realized I hadn’t heard much from her during that conversation.

"Look, Blaise, I haven’t any time for you at the moment. I have to get home or my roast will burn."

Blaise’s red–gold hair often reminded me of my sister’s—only my sister is prettier. Blaise isn’t bad to look at either; Malfoy would never keep an ugly woman by his side. Even Pansy pre–rhinoplasty had her own charms. But Blaise didn’t intrigue me at that moment, I was a trifle preoccupied.

"I don’t want you," Blaise spat nastily. "At least, not at the moment. I thought you ought to know Draco was lying."

I reached out and pulled up her sleeve; the Dark Mark stood out prominently on her fair skin.

I chuckled. "Thank you, Blaise, I’m well aware that Malfoy is a lying scumbag." Blaise was scowling at me. "Oh, you won’t hurt me here, not in front of all these people." These people were mostly drunk middle–aged wizards. "And you wouldn’t care to tangle with me under any circumstances. Well, not of the violent variety. Goodbye, Blaise."

I pushed the back door open and stepped out into the alley. It was raining, just my luck. I hunched my shoulders and hurried down the street. I was being followed of course. Whenever a spy steps out into an alley, raining or no, he is followed. So I waited until I was almost out of the alley before I spun around with my wand in hand.

She grabbed my wand wrist, twisted it, and flipped me. I ended up on my back on the ground with a large lump.

"Shit, was that really necessary?" I asked, rubbing my very sore and incredibly painful head. Being attacked and alcohol don’t mix.

"You attacked me first," she pointed out. Then she leaned down and pulled me up. "I don’t have much time, he’ll expect me back soon."

I stared into those oh, so familiar eyes. Memories flashed through my mind.

"Yes—of course—but there’s no wood!"

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD? ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT!"

"Let me read you composition."

"No, I won’t. You’ve had ten days to finish it—"

"You seem to be drowning twice."

"Oh, am I? I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging Hippogriff."

"Well, if you don’t like it, you know what the solution is, don’t you?"

"Oh, yeah? What’s that?"

"Next time there’s a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

She looked at me and tossed some of the rain from her face. "You look different."

I swallowed hard. "I am different. I believe you can take responsibility for most of that, Hermione."

She laughed. "Typical man, blaming a woman for all of his problems. And call me Lila while we’re anywhere near this place. Sorry I hit you."

"It’s alright. I was almost expecting it. I should have been quicker and ducked it. Help me find my wand."

"You know," Hermione said as we scoured the dark and wet alley for my wand, "I bet James Bond would never have dropped his gun."

"He might have if he was sloppily drunk and attacked in a dark, wet alley by a nutty woman."

"The sloppily drunk part isn’t my fault," Hermione said with a smile. "And what do you mean, ‘nutty’?"

"What else do you call a woman who would voluntarily be a member Draco Malfoy’s harem?" I asked. I found my wand and returned it to it’s holster. I tried to wipe some of the water off of my cloak, but the rain was coming down in buckets. Hermione shook her head, rolled her eyes, and took out her own wand.

"Impervius!"

I instantly felt warmer. Hermione was staring at me with an expression which was a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"I just have one question for you," I said. "Do you love Malfoy?"

She burst into delighted laughter. "Love Malfoy? I think that’s impossible. You always did know how to make me laugh."

"Until that day the laughter died," I commented.

The laughter stopped abruptly. She looked at me seriously. "You’d better leave, Ron."

"What the hell are you doing here, Lila?" I asked.

"That’s my business, not yours," she said irritably. "Go away before you ruin everything."

I was surprised. It didn’t sound like Hermione, and it certainly didn’t look like the Hermione Granger I knew. But then again, I hadn’t seen her in ten years, when we parted on poor terms. She accused me of being a selfish prick who’d be killed by his own stupidity, and I told her exactly where she could stuff her useless opinions. I’d certainly thought about her before. Hermione was probably the only woman I’d ever even come close to caring about.

I was dizzy. It was a combination of things really. The tequila was a major part, the lump Hermione left on my skull was another, and the clamminess of my clothing wasn’t helping. I was in a really bad position; if was ambushed, I’d be about as much use as a flobberworm. I staggered.

"You know, I think I will go home. I need to sleep."

I turned my back to her. That proved to be a mistake. A moment later I was knocked unconscious.