A/N: Sorry about the delay, this took me a while. And thank you for reviews in my absence. They were lovely. ~Let's move it along~ Shez

~

It was the Saturday after N.E.W.T.s, and Harry and Ron had arrived in the quidditch change-rooms early to, in Harry's words, 'prepare themselves'. Ron didn't want to prepare, beyond putting his uniform on. He just wanted to play the final, and get it over and done with.

Harry was already in his uniform, and was now sitting silently on a bench. He looked rather ill, and Ron sat next to him, concerned.

"You OK?"

"Fine," Harry muttered, after a brief pause. "I'm good."

"Not nervous?"

"No."

"Good, you shouldn't be. We're going to kick their arses, Harry. You know it."

"Yeah. We will."

He still looked a little pale.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded abruptly and stood up. "Yeah. Feel a bit weird. Pre-game butterflies. I really want this to work out."

"I know, mate. It'll be fine."

Ginny, Alice and Parvati came in through the girls' room at that point, talking lowly, and Ron could hear Seamus and Colin in the corridor outside. Harry picked up his broom determinedly, and Ron went over to Ginny.

"Hey," he said, tapping her on the arm, and she turned.

"Hey."

"Have you seen 'Mione?"

"She's on her way."

"Are you sure she's coming?"

Ginny snorted. "Like she'd miss your final game. Honestly."

"Right. Right."

He was trying to suppress the anxiety he felt about this match, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. It was more for Harry's sake than Gryffindor's that he was worried. Harry was only just beginning to come back to himself, and still wavered on the edge of depression. Losing the Quidditch Cup could tip him in the wrong direction.

Ginny moved away from him to Harry, who was checking his broom tips meticulously. She smiled and said something, and Harry put his broom down and hugged her. Watching them, Ron understood that they were right for one another, in the same way that he felt he and Hermione were right for each other. They matched.

If Ron had never met Harry, and never been his friend, he and his sister very likely wouldn't be together now. It was an odd thought, and he had the sudden, equally odd sensation of time sliding by – first year, and second year, and on and on to the present moment. It didn't seem so long ago that Ginny was begging to come to Hogwarts with him, or that he happened to choose the train carriage in which he met his best friend, and his future girlfriend.

"Hello?" came a call from outside, and Ron started, and went out. Hermione was standing there. Her hair was a mess – she'd run all the way from the castle, he suspected – and she ran a hand over it unconsciously.

"'Mione," he said. "I was just thinking about you."

"Oh. Well here I am."

"There you are."

He kissed her briefly, and then took a deep breath. "Nervous," he admitted, and she straightened his robes in response. Beneath them, he was wearing the Chudley Cannons sweatshirt she'd given him, and when her fingers touched the collar, she smiled.

"Don't be nervous," she said firmly. "It's going to be alright."

"I just hope Harry doesn't – you know, what happened last time. Lose his concentration."

"He won't. He's calmed down an awful lot. And he's focussed, too."

"You're right. OK, you're right. Ah, Merlin," he muttered and rolled his shoulders. Hermione laughed and chucked him under the chin.

"You'll be fine," she said. "I'm going up to the stands."

"Wait, you didn't bring a book, did you?"

"Well – one, in my bag. Just in case."

"'Mione!"

"Oh, I can't help it," she protested. "I take a book everywhere. I'm not going to read it."

"You'd better bloody not!"

"I won't."

"Ron, get in here," came Harry's voice, and Ron turned slightly to call back to him.

"Aye-aye, Captain." He shrugged at Hermione. "Got to go."

"I'd better too, or I won't find a seat. Good luck, love you."

"Love you."

She kissed him swiftly on the cheek and hurried off down the corridor. He watched her go for a little while, and then went back into the change-rooms. The team members were forming their usual huddle, and Ron poked his head in between Ginny and Seamus.

"All here?" Harry said lowly. "Good. Now, this is it. We have to win this if we want the Cup. And we want the cup, right?"

"Right," they agreed, in quiet unison.

"OK. That means we have to –" Harry paused, and said nothing for a moment. Then he shook his head as though to clear it. It was like he couldn't remember what he'd been saying.

"We have to …" Ginny prompted him, and he blinked, and launched back into his speech.

"We have to be focussed. We have to work as a unit. Seamus and Colin, we're going to need you to head off those Bludgers, at any cost. We can't afford to lose a player. Gin, Alice, Parvati –"

"Yes, sir?" Ginny murmured, and Harry managed a smile before continuing.

"You'll need to watch that Slytherin Keeper. He's a nasty piece of work, but he's a fast blocker. He'll intercept you unless you can confuse him into leaving an opening."

"We know," she said softly, and he nodded.

"I know you do. Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Just do your thing, OK?"
Ron grinned. "OK."

"And you, Harry," Colin said eagerly. "You've got to watch out for the Snitch, don't you?"

"Yeah, Colin," Harry said, with an effort. "I'll do that. We ready?"

McGonagall's voice sounded above, and the group stepped away from one another to grab their brooms.

"Come on," said Harry, visibly squaring his shoulders. "Up to the pitch."

~

The roar of the crowd in the morning air was deafening. Ron leant over to speak to Ginny, and literally couldn't hear himself. Everybody was out – he was quite sure there wouldn't be a single person left in the school, apart from those with Madame Pomfrey perhaps. Anyway, it was a wild sea of faces, all screaming and cheering for their teams. Three-quarters of the crowd wore maroon. The rest were decked out in green and silver. Ron smiled and tapped Harry when he saw this, but his friend was watching the sky. It was mostly blue, with a few wisps of cloud in the distance.

The Slytherin team were approaching from the other side, Malfoy at their head. His hair was slick and glowing in the sun, and he had a strange smile playing around his lips. Ron had to clench his jaw when he saw Malfoy's face. So, the prat thought he was going to win, did he?

Not today.

Harry and Malfoy met in the middle, with Madame Hooch.

"Let's have a safe game," she said. "Shake hands."

They did so. Malfoy broke away first and swung a leg over his broom, and Harry quickly did the same. The team members followed their examples and were soon waiting in readiness. Ron's heart thudded at rapid pace.

"On my whistle," Hooch called, and the stands quieted somewhat. "Three … two … one …"

They shot immediately into the sky, and Ron felt that giddy sensation he always had when flying, as though he'd left his body behind. He swept straight over to the Slytherin goals and positioned himself in front of them, with what he hoped was a threatening expression plastered across his face.

~

The game was tough. They'd been playing for an hour, and though Gryffindor had a twenty-point lead, Slytherin managed to keep pace. Harry was desperate for the Snitch, and was looping the pitch every few minutes, eyes narrowed. There had been a few close calls in which he'd almost got a hold of the thing, but he'd missed it each time (usually due to interference from Malfoy). 

Ron was playing reasonably well, and for that he was grateful. It would have been awful to play like shite in his final game, with the entire school watching.

He was just beginning to think that this wouldn't be so bad, that they'd pull through with a win, when there was a strange muttering from the crowd. Ron scanned the pitch, and saw what they saw – Harry, poised in mid-flight, hovering right in the middle of the field. He had that blank expression on his face and was completely still.

Only a few team members from either side had noticed yet, and though Hooch would soon call a halt to the game if he didn't move. Ron was torn between staying at the goals and checking on his friend. Just as he was about to duck over, Ginny went swooping over to Harry from one end, and Malfoy came from the other.

"Harry!" Ginny was shouting as she came towards him. "Are you OK?"

Hooch blew her whistle and called for Harry to descend, and the crowd's mutters were heavier now, rippling through the stands.

Ginny took hold of Harry's arm and still, he did not move. She gave his arm a shake, but, instead of waking, he slid sideways, almost in slow motion, and tumbled directly from his broom. The sleeve of his robe was torn from her hand and she screamed as he fell.

"Catch him!" Malfoy bellowed, and Ron began to dive himself, but a few feet from the ground, Hooch hit him with the appropriate spell and Harry stopped.

The crowd was roaring now, and Ron had a very bad feeling about this, a feeling in his stomach. He frowned as Malfoy took out his wand and pointed it at his own throat, murmuring. When he next spoke, his voice was so loud that it rang out across the pitch.

"Quiet!" he said. "Be quiet!"

McGonagall, whose voice was also magically modified, spoke up from her place. "Thank you, Mr Malfoy, I believe I can take it from here."

Malfoy eyed her and then shook his head. "No, you can't."

Before anybody could react to this, he'd spun to the person nearest to him – Ginny. He didn't touch her, but aimed his wand directly in her face. She had tears on her cheeks from seeing Harry fall, but now her eyes went wide.

Ron flew to her, but paused a few metres away at the look on the Slytherin's face.

"I'll kill her if you do anything," Malfoy said, and the words echoed. The crowd was eerily silent with fear, and Ginny was breathing hard. Ron stared at his sister, and at Malfoy, and felt his heart drop away.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he said faintly.

"Just what needs to be done," Malfoy replied, with an arrogance that made him want to throw the Slytherin to the ground. This was too far, too far even for Malfoy, and Ginny was teary, and this was making his head spin.

"Mr Malfoy," came a thunderous voice from the main stand, and Malfoy looked up. It was Dumbledore, furious and aiming his wand at Malfoy. "Release that child at once!"

"No," Malfoy said coolly. "I won't."

Now there were shrieks from the crowd, because people in black robes were moving through the stands from the back, wands out and shouting. Ron was trembling all over – this was it, this was it, in the middle of their quidditch match, at bloody half past eleven in the morning.

He looked down. Harry was still floating just above the ground, but now there were two Death Eaters – because there was no doubt in Ron's mind that the people in black were Death Eaters – on either side of him. When Ron looked to the main stand, there were robed figures surrounding Dumbledore as well, and the rest of the staff. They were struggling, naturally, but Malfoy spoke to them again.

"Don't, or I'll kill her."

Ginny made a whimpering sound, and Ron found that he was crying himself with the helplessness of it all.

"You will not," roared Dumbledore.

Without blinking an eye, Malfoy flicked his wand at Ginny, clearly pronouncing the word: "Crucio."

Ron couldn't watch, but there was no way to stop up his ears from his sister's screaming. It went on for what seemed a very long time, and when it stopped, he looked at Ginny, and she was shaking so much that she was in danger of falling from her broom too. Malfoy held her upright with his free arm.

"I will," he said. "So don't try anything." He spun about (still holding Ginny, who spun with him), facing each stand. "Take them all up to the castle, to each of the common rooms. Remove their wands. Keep them well under guard, with one or two students as hostage to hold the rest. Make demonstrations if necessary. Go."

The crowd were hustled up by the Death Eaters – there seemed to be an awful lot of them, perhaps forty or fifty – and directed out of the stands. They began to file out, fairly subdued, and Ron wished he knew what to do.

Looking down again, he saw that Harry wasn't there. Malfoy noticed his gaze.

"He's gone," he said, and Ron glanced sharply at him.

"Where is he?"

"In the hospital."

"Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore said now. He was flanked by four Death Eaters keeping a very wary eye on him, and had been bound with cords of what looked like light.

"Yes, Professor?"

Dumbledore's voice trembled. "I placed trust in you, and you have failed me dismally. You have allied yourself with one of the most evil beings to walk this earth. I ask you now – turn away from your decision. We can defeat Voldemort. We will."

Malfoy didn't say a word. He just nodded once, and the Death Eaters in the staff box began to move them out.

"Malfoy …" Seamus said, and Malfoy cut him off.

"Shut up. We're going to the castle."

Beneath it all, Ron saw that he was quite tense. His eyes were gleaming rather too brightly.

"Group together," he went on, and both teams did so. The Slytherins seemed as unaware of what was happening as the rest of them, but a few (children of Voldemort's ex-servants, most of them) put themselves forward immediately with offers of help. Malfoy ignored them, and glanced down at a figure in black sitting in one of the front rows.

"How was that?" he said, his voice no longer echoing, and the figure pulled back his hood to reveal long blonde hair and hard, dark eyes.

"Very good, my son," said Lucius Malfoy, standing. "Our Lord will be pleased when he has completed his business here."

Ron couldn't even consider this development. He'd managed to move closer to Ginny and was whispering furiously to her.

"Gin. Gin."

"Ron …" she said faintly. "Oh God. Oh fuck. Ron, help."

"I will. I'll help you."

"Please help me."

"I will."

"I'm scared."

"I know."

"Oh God," she said again, and began to cry, quite unconsciously.

"I am going to the hospital," Lucius was saying, "to watch all this unfold."

"Yes, Father."

"Join me there."

"Yes, Father."

Lucius strode off, and Malfoy turned to face twelve quidditch players, the thirteenth still at his wand-point, the fourteenth in God knows what state and out of sight.

"To the ground," Malfoy said, and glanced at Ron. "Don't make me curse your sister again."

~

They stopped at the Slytherin common room first (which Ron recognised from their brief visit in second year), and dropped off the appropriate students. Ron had never seen the Slytherins so quiet and meek. Death Eaters were standing at various points in the room, and Pansy Parkinson and another girl had wands directed at them. There was one boy unconscious on the floor – at least, Ron hoped he was unconscious.

Once that was done, Malfoy made his way up to Gryffindor tower. Somehow, he knew the way. He must have been watching them all year. He even knew the password.

Ginny was the first to enter the room, and everybody began to murmur once she came in – with Malfoy's wand at the back of her neck. She tripped on a rug and almost fell, but Malfoy righted her and pushed her onto an armchair.

"Come on," he said impatiently, and a robed man walked quickly over. Malfoy removed his wand, and the Death Eater pushed his own wand-tip against her temple before she could relax. She cried again for a few moments, and then took a deep steadying breath and forced herself to stop.

Ron felt guilt welling up inside him. He had to do something, he just couldn't see a way.

"Move in," Malfoy said, and the Gryffindor team found places in the room. Ron scanned for Hermione, and saw her near the back. Beyond his guilt, he felt a huge rush of relief at seeing her there, and went to her so quickly that he almost tripped himself. 

"Oh my God," she said as he reached her, and then he put his arms around her and hugged her like he'd never hugged anyone in his life. "I thought you were dead or something," she whispered in his ear. "I didn't know where you were. I didn't know where you were."

"I'm here. I'm sorry. Are you OK?"

"I'm OK. Is Ginny OK?"

"Fucking Malfoy put fucking Cruciatus on her, and now he's got some bastard pointing a fucking wand at her head."

This was the most he'd ever sworn in Hermione's presence, but she didn't say a word about it.

"And Harry? Where's Harry?"

"Hospital, apparently. I don't know what's happening. Why did he fall?"

"A black-out?"

"I don't know."

"I'm asking," she said suddenly, and pulled away from him. Before he could protest, she was calling out to Malfoy, who was halfway out of the room.

"Wait!"

"Hermione …" he hissed, and she ignored him, stepping forward. Malfoy had paused in the doorway, and was now turning to look at her.

"Granger," he said stiffly.

"What's going on?"

"It's not my place to tell you."

"Why not?" she said, and a strange expression passed across his features.

"I can't," he said eventually. "So don't ask again, or your little friend will be dead."

Hermione flicked her gaze in Ginny's direction, and then looked back to Malfoy.

"What happened to you?" she asked softly, and Malfoy clenched his jaw.

"Shut up," he said.

"You were with us. We were friends. When did it change?"
A brief silence, and then Malfoy's eyes met hers.

"When I realised that I was never going to be anything to you people that wasn't worthless," he said shortly. "Now sit the fuck down."

Hermione stared at him, and he spun about to leave once more. There was a collective sigh, but then he stopped, and the room held its breath.

"Granger, Weasley – you come with me."

Neither of them moved. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron could see Lavender, another hostage of the Death Eaters. She was pale, clearly in shock. Dean Thomas stood beside her, attempting to be calm. Colin Creevey had his head between his knees, and an arm around his brother. All over the room, people were full of fear.

This was exactly Voldemort's goal: make them afraid, then make them yours.

He took a deep breath and moved to take Hermione's hand, squeezing it once. 

Be brave, he thought, hoping somehow that she'd understand.

"Alright," Ron said firmly. "Let's go."

~

A/N: More revealed next chap. Will try to be quicker than the last. ~be good to your daughters~ Shez