-----Part Five

Ron loved Quidditch. His older brother had been a star player at Hogwarts, his best friend was in the record books as being the youngest seeker ever, and the walls of his small room at home were covered with posters of his favorite professional team. Yes, Ron Weasley considered himself to be one of the biggest fans ever of the sport of Quidditch.

"Why, of all the 'prices' you could've come up with, did you insist we play this lousy game?" Okay, so maybe he wasn't that huge of a fan. Especially when he was being forced to play.

"Do you want the card or not?" Draco was walking slightly ahead of him, his dark and sleek Nimbus 2001 at hand.

Of course I want the card, Ron thought, looking doubtfully at the splintery school broom he held. I'm just not willing to get killed for it. And that's exactly what was going to happen. Why else would Malfoy want to play a game of Quidditch with him? The blond was a decent seeker with an awesome broom. Ron Weasley was a bloke who hadn't been able to make the Gryffindor team as of yet, and who didn't even have a broom of his own. Draco wanted to slaughter the redhead.

They reached the Quidditch field. What was vibrant, green grass in the summer was currently sad, brown nothingness with a few unmelted patches of snow scattered around. "Forget this," announced Ron, just as Draco was climbing onto his broom. "I don't want some card this bad. I don't even know if you really have the card. I'm going back to the library." He turned, set on fumbling his way to the Quidditch supplies shack and returning the broom.

"Notice how I didn't bring the game balls?" Draco said this as if he hadn't heard a word of Ron's proclamation and pulled something from his pocket. "I figured we could play a little differently."

Ron was walking away, gritting his teeth. "I said I'm going."

"See, I just need a little flying practice. I'll just fly around with these cards and you try to grab em' from me. It'll help with my dodging skills and all. And, as soon as you actually grab the cards, you're done."

The redhead stopped, but didn't turn around. "Cards? As in, plural?"

Draco shrugged. "Yeah, I've got Agrippa and some wizard called Ptolemy. I don't collect these stupid things so I thought I'd let you get them both. But, if you don't want-"

Ron got on the school broom. "Deal!" What luck. The platinum-haired teen had no idea how rare the two cards he had were. Getting knocked around by Draco was no problem. No problem at all, if he was getting the completion of his collection out of it. "Let's go."

-----

"Let's go," shouted Ron, kicking up into the sky. Draco smiled. He wasn't an idiot. He knew how rare the two cards were. Not that he'd lied about not collecting cards, or anything. It was Crabbe and Goyle who were always going on and on about the things. After seeing Weasley brooding over the remnants of his Agrippa card, all it had taken was a trip to the Slytherin dorms and a rummage through Crabbe and Goyle's left behind property. Next thing he knew, he was walking out of the Hogwarts castle with his Nimbus in his hand, two rare cards in his pocket, and Ron wrapped around his little finger.

What a piece of cake, he thought, finally darting into the sky. Not that he liked the idea of stealing from his housemates. There just hadn't been any alternative. He'd do anything to jerk the weasel around.

They started the game. And it was too easy. Draco enjoyed himself. He waved the two cards around tauntingly, dashing about the field while the out of practice Gryffindor tried desperately to catch him, mumbling curses all the time.

Malfoy suddenly stopped. He laughed cruelly, then proceeded to make a show of being bored. "Hell weasel, I thought it'd be a little more challenging than this. I don't know if this is even worth two crappy cards." At these words, Ron seemed to grow more determined. He sped up, aiming for Draco. His eyes were glued to the two little cards with the golden letters. The blond teen flitted out of the way just in time, leaving his rival furious. "Ha!"

Draco continued to grin viciously, and continued to easily outrun the huffing Ron. He was having entirely too much fun for his own good.

It didn't last long.

"Oh come on. You're joking, right? You don't suck this much at flying!" The fifth year Slytherin could see that Ron was holding back an insult, perhaps afraid the deal would be jeopardized. Draco smiled, opened his mouth to say something else, then quickly snapped it shut. He looked down at his broom. Had it just...jerked?

"Ahh!" He yelled, gripped his broom, and was suddenly upside down. What was going on? His oh so expensive flying contraption began to shake. He held on tightly.

Ron was laughing. "Who doesn't know how to fly now?" He pointed his broom in the direction of his rival before growing serious. "Hey!" Draco's pale hands were holding onto the Nimbus in a vise like fashion. Somewhere in the midst of that vise were the cards. "No. You're messing up the- " But before he could finish, Malfoy's broom shot straight toward the redhead.

Ron had no time to dodge. Both boys braced for impact. Draco was still upside down. They hit, and fell to the ground.

-----

After a moment of catching his breath, Ron opened his eyes. "Ouch. That hurt." Next to him, he heard a snort.

"You think?"

Weasley frowned. Obviously, Draco was okay. "Why did you do that? You messed up the cards and we practically broke our necks. Was this your brilliant plan? Was this why you wanted me to play Quidditch with you?" Nudging Draco's legs off of his own (they were in quite a tangle), Ron stood and made sure nothing was broken. "You're such an asshole."

Rubbing at a sore shoulder, the blond also stood. "It wasn't me. It was...my broom, I guess. It just started acting strange." He looked, of all things, honest.

"Acting strange?" Ron was remembering Harry's episode with a cursed broom during first year and was about to tell Draco he was a rotten liar, when he spotted the cloaked and hooded figure. The figure was garbed in all black, and seemed to be staring right at them. "Uh, who is that?"

"Who is who?" Following Ron's stare, Malfoy also spotted the odd entity that was standing on the other side of the field, unmoving. "Hey! That must be the SOB that messed up my broom!" He turned and started running. The figure bolted. Ron followed them both.

I know what this is. I know what this is. The redhead was panicking. Freaky people dressed in black? Cursed Quidditch games? This was all too familiar.

The entity, whoever or whatever it was, had gotten too much of a head start. Not even Draco could keep up with it. It disappeared into the forest. That damned scary forbidden forest. Malfoy reached the edge of the wooded area, seemed to be trying to determine which way the 'SOB' had gone and then simply plopped to the ground, exhausted. "Damn."

Ron, panting harshly, reached him moments later. "Hey," the redhead prompted, kneeling next to Draco. The blond didn't answer for a moment, but caught his breath first.

"Yeah, what?" Malfoy wasn't in the best of moods.

"You know how I asked you last night about who you thought Dumbledore and Hagrid might be 'keeping an eye on'?"

Draco eyed him skeptically. "Yeah, so?"

"So I think we just met that person. And that person, whoever it is, has a problem with us."

Draco snorted. "Where's Harry bloody Potter when you need him?"