highly unfortunate

Interlude: Chase

"I'm telling you, Mia, there's no way--" Blaise tries to refute, amusement flashing in his eyes as his Gryffindor friend rolls her eyes. Beside him, Neville chuckles. Blaise decides he quite likes his boyfriend's laugh, soft and firm like honey.

(Well. He and Neville were definitely going places.)

Before Hermione launched into another pseudo-rant, she was accidentally shoulder-checked by another wizard. The only reason Neville did not bristle was that the bloke seemed equally as startled as they were.

"Sorry," he nodded and swept away, quiet and reserved. It took Blaise and the others several moments before they took notice of the familiar red crown of hair, but by then the Weasley was nearly 30 feet away from where they originally stood.

Not to mention, they walked forwards as well, giving the distance an additional 20 feet, making it 50 in total - hence why their eyes had to strain when their head whipped back around.

"Weasley!"

"Ron?!"

Neville, who got over his shock a second quicker than either of them, immediately pulled out a pendant and activated the dormant magic inside. "Ron's here!" He urgently whispered. A pulse of magic alerted him to a message sent to him. "Follow him -- don't lose sight!"

Neville sent an affirmative and ran for where he last saw the redhead. Hermione and Blaise quickly followed suit, easily dodging and weaving between masses of people. They did not spare more than a cursory glance at the people around them -- It might not have even crossed their mind that Ronald Weasley ducked into an alley and shoved his hair under a wig of another color. They needed to find that redhead. Quick.

Who knew what terrors the Wizarding Community would face if Ron stepped out from their prison? Which confused them, because how on earth did he get out? Tom Riddle himself made the wards for Merlin's sake, and it was powered by Harry of all wizards. No one shy of Dumbledore could have gotten himself out, much less Ron.

Too bad they never saw the strapping young lad accosted by young witches, all but bathing in the attention. They dismissed it as another bloke over-confident, and besides, he wasn't doing any harm. A cocky smirk painted on his lips, blue eyes twinkling with delight, but his hands stayed respectfully at his sides. Blaise felt they did not have time for it anyway, and urged his companions on. Hermione was biting at her lip, eyes darting about in hopes to catch Ron.

Neville looked like he was on a warpath. Privately, Blaise would even go as far as to say it looked a little hot. Not that he'd admit it out loud, he wanted his dick in place, thank you very much. (Neville's Gran was rightly terrifying, no questions asked.)

The Longbottom Heir cut through the crowd with an ease that made Hermione jealous. One of the things she was peeved about being a Muggleborn was that they weren't saddled with the additional skills purebloods had to have the sort of effect that was useful for a bustling street like this.

But try as they might, it didn't seem like they were catching up to Weasley. They were straining their eyes, their necks, and their toes, but they saw neither hair nor hide of the redhead. That begged the question, however. Where had he gone?

And how would they ever explain this to Harry and the Dark Lord?

Neville and Hermione were partially safe, they did not bear the Dark Mark. Blaise, however, was a different story. Who knew how Harry would have to deal with the dilemma.

Blaise himself wasn't overly concerned, though. He didn't have to be. Harry would cut them some slack, and if he didn't, the punishment for failure wasn't too bad. Neville might instigate war with Harry if that was the case, thought Blaise with a wry grin.

But first; back to finding Weasley.