A/N: Lo, my lovely readers! Sorry for the wait on this chapter. I had to make quite a few rewrites to try and get the dialogue down. On that note, please let me know if I did Cormac McLaggen justice! Who knew he was this tricky to write?

"If three bells ring in the Tower of Bray,

Ding dong! Your love's gone away.

Ding dong! Three bells today in the Tower of Bray.

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong…"

—Sweeney Todd

The first day Ron was stuck with Cormac McLaggen, he learned that the man was oblivious to sarcasm. Though this had the potential to be ripe for exploitation and hilarity, Ron couldn't find it that funny. Not when the Fawcett family and friends interviews were coming up with nothing. The stupid comments were also hard to stomach as they were accompanied by a pompous voice and hardy, camaraderie slaps on his back.

"Weatherby! Shocked we haven't met."

"You're kidding me."

"Must be thanking your lucky stars, getting me as partner. All chuffed about it, I can tell."

"Yeah. Yeah, thrilled. Though it's a funny thing, McLaggen. My name's Weasley. Has been all my life."

"Huh. You're positive about the name? Because I met a red-haired chap in magical transport who went by Weath—"

"You've known me for years, shut the hell up."

Ron would have thought McLaggen was taking the mick, except he seemed so irritatingly certain that he must be correct. Having to argue about what his own name was for hours understandably put Ron off-balance and in a foul mood. It took everything he had to attempt to focus on the Fawcett case. Plans to scare off yet another partner were going to be put on a momentary hold. Yet when he was forced to 'release' the wards over the Hogsmeade crime scene due to a lack of clues (while the notices in the Prophet likewise revealed nothing), combined with McLaggen's grating voice in his ear, his bad mood escalated.

When Ron caught sight of Harry's smirking grin as he left the office, his resolve hardened to end this mess before it could truly begin. So he made a quick stop at WWW (to ask more questions about Fawcett, naturally).

The second day, Ron snuck one of George's 'Critters' Cacophonies' concoctions into McLaggen's drink. He impatiently waited to hear him start mewing like a lamb, a sonorus at the edge of his lips…

"ROARRR!"

"…what?"

"RRAAWWR!"

"Merlin's left buttocks. Quietus!"

"RRROOOOOOAAAAARRR!"

"How'd that make you even louder? Why are you roaring! You were supposed to…to…he switched the packages. George switched the bloody packages!"

"RRRROOAARR?"

"Shut up, you big oaf. Yes, I get it, you sound like a lion! Don't look so delighted."

"RRRRRRRAAAAAAWWWWRRRR!"

Through his frustration at the failed prank, Ron resolved to remember (yet again) that his brother could never be trusted. A follow-up questioning made it clear that Harry had gotten to George first and had 'suggested' a switch in packages.

The third day, the roaring had ceased. McLaggen took advantage of this by making sleazy comments when he saw a photo of Hermione. Ron turned him into a lamppost.

"Your partner's missing."

"Huh, would you look at that."

"Where is he?"

"How am I supposed to know? I'm not his babysitter."

"Ron, what did you do to him?"

"Who says I did anything? The git probably ate another hoard of Doxy eggs. Check Mungo's."

"Tell me you didn't kill him."

"I didn't kill him."

"Because you know how much paperwork that would—"

"Really, didn't kill him. Also, relax! You're getting paranoid in your old age. Shame how the mind goes first."

"I'm 26, younger than you!"

By the end of the first week, McLaggen had recovered from the transfiguration and had returned to the office. Ron immediately hit him with a silencio. This went unnoticed by the victim for a few blessed hours, until Harry returned his voice before lunch. More than just Ron was annoyed by this, but as many of the aurors were still bristling over the near-destruction of headquarters the previous week, he found that his allies were few and far between.

With the start of the second week, though relations with the other aurors had improved, Ron was losing steam. As much as he hated to admit it, nothing seemed to phase McLaggen. It was then that he wondered if, maybe, he was being a touch unfair. Even though the man was loud and rude, McLaggen wasn't nearly as bad as he'd been at Hogwarts. Maybe he ought to give the bloke a chance. After all, there must be a reason he'd made it into the aurors. Also, far more important than McLaggen, the Fawcett case was going nowhere. With the lack of any clues, the kidnapping was going to go cold very quickly. Though her family was continuing to plaster the Prophet with cries for information, the Senior Auror was even less hopeful. But this, if nothing else, convinced him that he really ought to give his partner a shot.

Two hours after Ron's decision to extend an olive branch, McLaggen groped Hermione. Ron would have ensured that no one ever found the wizard's body, but his wife beat him to the punch.

With the 'lamppost' returned to the corner outside the Ministry, Ron learned from his supremely annoyed spouse why McLaggen still had a job. Seems that being related to half a dozen Wizengamot members had its perks, especially as his uncle Tiberius McLaggen was Chief Warlock.

The positive to this was that Hermione's impatience at last broke into fury. Ron assumed this meant she'd force Harry to see reason and give him a new partner. This didn't happen. But she did give him carte blanche to do whatever he wanted to do to McLaggen, so long as the pompous auror had quit within the month (or was in a mental ward or gaol, she hinted heavily). Ron cheerfully took up the challenge.

Still, even he grudgingly had to admit, their cases were more important. So driving McLaggen out was placed in the same category as driving Harry barmy: highest priority…aside from life-or-death situations, dangerous cases, taking care of Rosie, playing with Rosie, 'playing' with Hermione, and convincing his blossoming germaphobe wife that a few sneezes wasn't going to harm the baby.

So, yes. Highest priority.

"A looker, ain't she," Cormac McLaggen whistled, gazing at a photo in the Prophet. It was on the third page, today. It'd been the headline article for the past few weeks. Unsurprising, as the missing girl was pretty, her mother was shrill but desperate, kidnappings were rare, and the paper's 'favourite' tabloid figures were trying to find her.

Ron didn't glance up from the parchment he was reading. The only sign he'd heard was that his grip became tight on the sides.

"Fawcett, I mean," McLaggen barely paused. "Her mum's plastered the paper. Merlin Weasley, you seen this photo? Of her in a little gold dress…"

"The one of her at graduation? Her recent graduation from Hogwarts?" Ron at last answered, though still didn't look at him. He didn't bother keeping the sarcasm out of his words, figuring it'd go over the man's head. He also wasn't sure how any of this could be news to McLaggen. When had he last picked up the paper? "Funny. Thought you'd date even younger."

McLaggen guffawed. "Raiding the cradle, you know me!"

Ron silently cursed Harry, cursed Robards for hiring McLaggen, cursed 'Uncle Tiberius', cursed Hermione for not firing him, and cursed Harry again for being a prat with no sense of humour. "Sure. Any thoughts on the case, other than how Fawcett looks?"

"Come on, it's obvious."

"Really," Ron sighed. Still, after weeks of dead leads and having to put up with McLaggen, he'd welcome a laugh. "How's it obvious?"

"What I've been saying from the start," he said dismissively. "She ran away!"

Ron turned to stare at him. "Are you serious? McLaggen, we have a memory of her being kidnapped."

McLaggen waved this away. "Some footprints and a blurry outline. Like that'd hold in court."

"It's not supposed to hold in…" Ron took a deep breath, trying to keep his impatience at bay. He sent another mental hex at Harry, "fine, fine! In this theory of yours, why would Fawcett have run off?"

"Eh," he shrugged, "she seems an easy girl. Ran off with a lad or the like."

"Leaving behind all her possessions?"

"She took her purse!"

Ron sent him a long, hard look. He didn't even want to know why the other man thought she'd be an 'easy girl'. Yet his retort was interrupted by two memos spinning under the door into his office. One aimed for him, the other for McLaggen.

This time, the note wasn't folded like a snitch. Nor did it try to break Ron's nose. Instead, it was an origami crane that flapped in front of him, waiting to be read. Seeing as how his partner was already ripping through his, he made a deliberate effort to unfold it calmly.

It was from Taylor. Harry was busy showing a witness to an interview room, and both his presence and McLaggen's were required. While it said there might be another kidnapping, it was vague concerning who the witness and victim were. The only thing even vaguely concrete was that something taken from Fawcett might be at the new crime scene.

Ron glanced back up in time to see McLaggen barreling out the door. He gave a single thought to waiting a minute (let Harry deal with the prat and hope the latter finally got himself fired), but reluctantly dismissed this. Tossing the crane in the bin, he grabbed his notepad and more sedately headed out of his office.

It wasn't hard to find them, seeing as how the Head Auror and auror were standing outside of an interview room. More importantly, McLaggen's raucous voice carried for a mile.

"—course it's not related," McLaggen was brusquely waving a hand close to Harry's irritated face. "Ridiculous. Fawcett ran off herself! So unless she and this fellow were having an affair…"

"Which is why I'm not letting you in there by yourself," Harry cut in gruffly. Hearing the approaching footsteps, he looked reluctantly happy to see his best friend. The younger man came forward to meet him, tugging Ron's arm and leaning in to vehemently whisper at him. "Do not let McLaggen say any of that in there! She's only just stopped crying. The last thing we need is him saying her fiancé's cheating on her."

"Right," Ron glanced over to McLaggen, who seemed positively uninterested in his boss' whispers and was busy reading a file. An identical file of which Harry was thrusting into his hand. "What's this about? Taylor said it was another kidnapping?"

"Roger Davies has vanished."

Realisation swept over Ron. He gestured at the interview room. "So that's…"

"Yeah, exactly."

"How long has she—"

"She's been in my office an hour," Harry groaned before catching himself. "Don't get me wrong, I feel awful for her. Not to mention she has every right to be upset. Not that she needs a justification to be upset, but it, ah, I mean…"

Ron cut in. "Brought up traumatising memories?"

"You're joking, but it actually did," he said, both still ignoring McLaggen. "So listen, I'm actually genuinely sorry for giving this to you, but it's related to Fawcett. You know that prototype Snackbox residue she was working on? There was some of that same residue at this crime scene. Matches George's sample he sent us."

Ron nodded, not having been against this in the first place. Though the information about the Snackbox residue made him frown. "I get it. It's fine anyway, we're friendly enough. Also, unlike you, I'm not terrified of crying women."

Harry sent him a disgruntled look at the last, then returned to vague worry. "You really don't mind?"

"I mind that you partnered me with that oaf," Ron retorted. But he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "Look, it's fine. If it was Lavender in there it'd be a different story, but this isn't an issue." Harry's words then dawned on him. "They were engaged? Thought they were just dating. Though, to be fair, this was from months ago at the DA meet up."

"He proposed two weeks ago," Harry sent a glance at McLaggen. "I know you don't like the partner mess, but don't let him say anything stupid."

Ron sent him a pointed look.

"Anything too stupid," Harry corrected himself.

The interview room was painted a crisp blue, with a sandy carpet and turquoise ceiling. Ron (closing the case file he'd only just begun to flip through) recalled that it was meant to be soothing, but he'd always been put off by it. With the egg-shell white table and chairs, the decorators had obviously been trying to evoke a relaxing feeling of the sea. Which was well and good, except that if the Senior Auror stared too long at the walls he almost felt like he was being churned by waves. He wondered if it was enchanted, just so no one could get completely at ease.

Ron actually preferred the interview rooms meant for criminals. The crimson decor was volcanic and more than a bit fire-and-brimstones, but this 'tranquil' tripe set him on edge. He'd not mentioned this to Hermione yet, knowing she'd have a thing to say about his inherent dislike of anything resembling a hospital room or psych office.

Still, they were in the blue room. At one of the white chairs sat Cho Chang, holding a cup of tea. According to the small pool of liquid on her sleeves and table, her hands had been shaking for awhile. She stared into the glass as though trying to divine the future, a wave of dark black hair falling in front of her. McLaggen lost no time in jumping into a seat across from her, sending her a smarmy grin.

If Ron had seen her on the street, he might not have matched her to the usually immaculate beauty who strolled through the Ministry or christened business magazine covers. Her thick hair was tangled and her surely waterproof make-up had managed to be smudged. He spotted red circles looping around her eyes. Her already pinched look fell further as she took proper notice of them.

"Damn it," Cho said before catching herself. "Sorry, hello, nothing about you. I was just, just hoping to apologise. I scared him off?"

"Like a terrified little pygmy puff," Ron said, sitting down. "Or, really, like whoever's being chased by the puff."

Cho blinked, shaken even more from her stupor. "Pardon?"

Ron remembered he was talking to someone who hadn't grown up with Fred and George. "Let's just say you don't want to get one of those things riled up."

"Weasley," McLaggen sat back in his seat with a huff, "what're you on about?"

Ron hesitated, realising that out of context none of that would've made any sense. But to his surprise, someone spoke up before he could…just with an answer to a different question.

"I have an unfortunate habit of bawling on Harry," Cho set down the tea, massaging her shaking right hand with her left. "He's a good sport. Runs away as soon as possible, but he's nice about it. As for the pygmy puffs? Likely a mad Weasley thing I don't want to ask about. Am I close?"

"Dead on."

McLaggen only looked more confused, though was now winking suggestively at the oblivious woman. Ron quickly moved on before she could notice this.

"Listen," Ron continued to Cho, turning her attention fully away from McLaggen, "I'm not sure if anyone's told you, but an advance team's been to your flat and looked around a bit. I know you've gone over what happened, but do you mind going through it once more with us?"

"Not much to tell," she looked down at the tea, sliding her fingers along the edge. "Came home. Saw a mess and bl…blood, but couldn't find Rogie. I panicked and flooed here."

"Let's start from the beginning," Ron momentarily checked the file he'd barely had time to skim. "You got home this morning?"

"Yes."

"So your fiancé would've been home alone last night," a nod. "You know what he was doing yesterday?"

"He was at a match for the Falcons in Glasgow," Cho sniffled. "With something so close he'd have just apparated back to Edinburgh."

"Where you two live?" another nod and Ron continued, not thinking much of McLaggen's silence (or eyeing of their witness). "How long had it been since you'd seen Davies or been in your flat?"

"A day for both," she said. "We had breakfast at home yesterday, then I went to France for a business meeting. I came back this morning."

McLaggen made a small noise. As the other two turned to him, he snorted. "You're conveniently out of the country when your fiancé goes missing?"

"Merlin," Ron muttered, glaring at his partner. He almost wished the bloke was still inappropriately flirting.

A frostiness had entered Cho's gaze. "'Conveniently'?"

"Ignore him—"

"Yeah," McLaggen cut in. "Makes for a vague alibi, what with portkeys not being traced."

"I didn't take a portkey," Cho said, voice becoming harder. She directed the rest of her answer to Ron. "This was a wizard-muggle venture. I met my contacts in Heathrow and took a plane to Charles de Gaulle. This morning I flew back, then apparated from London to Edinburgh. Or can you not access Heathrow's biometrics and CCTV?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Ron sent a warning glance his partner's way. "We can always get a copy of your memory to verify—"

"So you only have muggle proof?" McLaggen scoffed, cutting in again. "That stuff's easily faked."

"Would you shut up?" Ron spoke over him, feeling his impatience surge. He turned to Cho apologetically. "Ignore him, he's an…" he realised calling him an idiot wouldn't make Cho any more confident of them being on the case, "he's a suspicious bloke. Thinks everyone's a suspect until proven otherwise. Which we can prove once we check Heathrow records," he ran over McLaggen's protest before returning to the important matter. "When you got home this morning, what time was that? When did you notice something was wrong?"

"It was just before twelve when I, I saw the living room," her voice was back to being stilted, staring down at her now cold tea. "Things overturned, blasts taken from the wall, and the, the table." She sniffed. "We had a large glass table in the corner. It was shattered, blood everywhere…" she took a sudden glance up, horror etching her face, "was that Rogie's blood? Do you know if it—"

"Cho," Ron didn't want to tell her his report matched the blood to her fiancé. It was a tinge cowardly, but he didn't want to take away her hope without proof, "all of this was only in the living room? Did you see anything when you were walking in? Like an unlocked door or opened window."

She shook her head, gulping down a sob.

"Have you noticed any odd behaviour lately?" McLaggen jumped in, back to leering at Cho rather than staring at her suspiciously. "Threats? People following you about? More than usual, that is. With your looks, I imagine you get a lot of—"

"Unwanted attention?" Cho said stiffly, her implication clear. That was, to Ron. He figured it went over McLaggen's head. "No. There's been nothing strange lately."

Resisting the urge to stomp on his partner's foot, Ron spoke up. "Do you have any enemies? I don't mean only the threatening types. Unpleasant neighbours? Unruly coworkers?"

"Aside from my business rivals…and everyone who hates the Falmouth Falcons? More specifically, anyone annoyed that Rogie's lead them to three championships?" Her voice was dry. "No, no one specific."

Ron let that rest for the moment, controversial Quidditch mess or no. "Don't take this the wrong way or read into it, but how's the relationship between you two?"

"Perfect," Cho said simply, giving a piercing glare at McLaggen as she did so. But she then softened, turning back to Ron. "Honestly, perfect. Fairy tale-like and all that mess. Sure, we both have demanding schedules, but we love each other and so everything else just…fell into place," she cleared her throat, coughing back a slight choke. She returned to massaging her hands, fingers wrapping around her ring. "There were no problems."

Ron paused for a bit, letting her collect herself. He was thankful his partner had, for once, had the tact to remain quiet. "This will sound strange, but do you or Roger have any connection with my brother George's shop?"

Cho blinked up, confused. "No. Why?"

"Part of a prototype prank was found at the crime scene," he didn't go into details, as he would've been surprised if she had known anything. "Do you have protections over your house?"

"A basic ward," Cho's voice filled with regret. "It only runs when someone's at home, meant to give us peace of mind at night. There were others we could have put up but we have most of our things in our vaults. We weren't worried about a robbery."

"Did you notice anything missing?"

"No. But I, I rushed out when I saw blood."

"You didn't place down your coat? Bags?"

"No, no."

Ron gave her a sympathetic look. "Just let us know if anything's missing once you get home, alright?"

She shivered at that.

"Unless you'd like a guard," said McLaggen swarmily, breaking his silence. Ron was almost grateful for this as it caused Cho to go from teary to scowling. "A strong man to protec—"

"SO!" Ron cut back in, not wanting that to go on too long. He already had a feeling this interrogation would end with McLaggen being hexed (and, surprisingly, not by him). "I think we're about done here."

"'A strong man to protect me'?" Cho repeated bitingly, staring at McLaggen and disregarding Ron's statement. "You must be joking."

"I wouldn't joke with a beauty like you," McLaggen grinned, leaning towards the woman as she leaned away, shuffling her chair back. "Sure, we'll find the bloke. But maybe you should rethink him and—uck!"

"I hate my job," Ron gritted out, struggling to drag his noncooperative partner out of the room. He called back to a flabbergasted Cho. "Don't worry, he's not as incompetent as he seems. But if you have a problem—OI! Stop squirming, you big oaf!—if there's any problems, take it up with Harry. He's the one who assigned McLaggen to your case!"

Thrusting the man out the door, Ron slammed it behind him. When he turned back to the hallway, he met not only his irritated partner but his equally pissed off best friend. Said best mate who would have been shouting at both of them, if he wasn't preoccupied with swearing as he banged his head against the wall.

Ron took in the scene. He released McLaggen and choked back a snicker. "That can't be good for you."

"Shut up!" Harry snarled, not glancing at him.

"Just saying," Ron said. He noted McLaggen had stopped glaring at him and was back to staring at Cho through the one-way glass, which Harry must have turned on when they'd entered the room. "Reckon I know why you get so many headaches."

"Would you shut it!"

A/N: Though this fic requires background OCs, I want to avoid this as much as possible. To this end, I need to ask you lovely readers an odd question: which beloved/hated HP characters would you like to see vanish into thin air? The only ones you CAN'T request are anyone in the Potter/Weasley clan, the other biggies (Neville, Luna, Draco, Hagrid, etc), and anyone who's not human (pets, centaurs, ghosts, what have you). This is not me saying that all the major characters are safe. Pfft, on the contrary. It's only that as I already know where I'm taking this plot and the main characters I can't change that.

Still, I'm hearing suggestions for anyone else. You want to see Umbridge get her just desserts? Sweet. Think Fudge got off too easy? Maybe the kidnapper does too. You've always thought Parvati was shifty? Let's pluck her off the face of the earth. You think Madam Zabini deserves some comeuppance? Maybe she'll go the way of her ex-husbands. You hate everything that's wonderful and want to see the older Longbottoms nabbed from St. Mungo's? Why not!