The Flight Club

(or: What To Expect While You're Stuck With An Enemy

And About To Be Thousands Of Feet In The Air – A Not-So-Buddy Hopefully-Comedy)

Disclaimer: Tra la la, I own nothing. Tra la la, JKR owns everything. Tra la la, la la la.. la.

Author's Note: Wrote this all in the airport before my first flight of the evening. I was bored. No, wait.. I think I wrote a bit while on the plane. ;) This is mindless sillyness, thank you very much. Which is really all I ever write.

* * * * * *

Ronald Weasley sat. Oh, yes, he sat; sat until his ass went numb and his back began to cramp.

He was sitting in a semi-crowded airport, waiting for his flight to arrive so that he could walk onto it and sit some more. But this time, he'd be sitting thousands of feet in air, which made all the difference.

This was the fourth or so time he'd flown, so he was used to the large Muggle contraptions, and had grown rather bored of it all. This time he was flying out to Greece to visit Hermione. She was studying up on Greek myths, and how each myth held a grain of truth to it, at least in the Wizarding world.

Unspeakably bored, that's what Ron was while sitting. Staring into space, staring at the clock, staring at the empty gate, staring at the floor, staring –

"Weasley."

Like a stopped record, Ron's train of thought derailed and he was sure that was some kind of mixed metaphor but he couldn't have cared less because who was standing a bit a ways from him? (Come on, guess.)

"Malfoy." There was a dramatic silence as the two boys frowned at each other. The silence carried on until it began to annoy Ron, so he spoke again. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Adding to Ron's annoyance, Draco Malfoy dropped an expensive looking suitcase onto the ground, and then dropped his expensive looking self into a chair.

"This is an airport. I do have luggage. Connect the dots, Weasley."

Ron didn't want to connect the dots, thank you very much. He wanted to scribble outside the dots, crumble up the piece of paper, and throw it into Malfoy's smug, ugly face.

"You can not possibly be flying to Greece." Ron winced inwardly at the almost desperate tone in his voice, and continued. "Even if you were – which you're not, right? – you'd be Apparating. Or going by broomstick or Floo. You wouldn't lower yourself to a Muggle's way of transportation, would you?" It wasn't a question.

Malfoy's face had darkened into a scowl the moment Ron mentioned Apparating. Malfoy hadn't been allowed to get his license. No one quite knew for sure why…

"Oh, right. Erm… But you could go by Floo and all, then."

"Well, maybe I could ask you the same, Weasel. After all, we both know that these flying machines cost a bit more than you could possibly afford, in either Muggle or our money. Got a friend to sneak you on, do you?"

Ron grabbed his bag and stood, snarling, "I don't have to subject myself to such torture." And he whirled around to stalk off.

Unfortunately, there were no other vacant chairs. Ron's ears began to burn when he heard snickering from behind him. Gathering his pride, he re-took his seat in what he hoped was a nonchalant sort of way.

"Guess you do have to subject yourself, hmm?"

* * *

Half an hour later, Ron stood at a pay telephone. Any other time, he'd have been proud to be so knowledgeable with Muggle things, but any other time, he wouldn't have wanted to break Wizard law and conjure up a hot poker just to ram it in Malfoy's rotten mouth. Well, to be fair, he did usually want that, minus the breaking law part.

"Hermione, I honestly don't think I can stand it much longer. You don't really mind if I just leave, do you? I'd see you in… er, 10 months."

"Ron! You've faced worse things than Draco Malfoy before. Don't tell me you want to chicken out now, don't you DARE!"

Ron jumped slightly at the volume of her 'dare'. Glancing back at his seat, he said through clenched teeth, "You know what that bastard's doing right now? He's got his bloody feet on my chair, and he's --" squinting to see better "--he's opening my suitcase! I'll call you right back."

Slamming the receiver down onto the phone rest, he stomped his way back to the chairs, cursing many things under his breath: the damn lift-type music playing, You-Know-Who, bogey Every Flavour Beans, and mostly and mainly Draco Malfoy.

He dived onto the ground and seized the wrist attached to the hand that was digging through Ron's bag. He dragged said hand out and practically threw it, causing Malfoy to lurch sideways and his feet to slide off Ron's chair.

"Keep your buggering paws away from my things," Ron said, very clearly.

Glaring, but still with a smirk, Malfoy rubbed his wrist and said, "They do tell you to watch your luggage, Poor Boy."

* * *

Ron began to giggle. The situation was so ridiculous; it was like a Muggle comedy film.

Malfoy looked curiously at him, but didn't say anything.

The more Ron thought about it, the funnier it seemed, and so he laughed louder, until some people were looking over. Suddenly he was laughing so hard, he started to cough and sputter.

"Good lord, Weasley, are you having some sort of attack?"

Ron pounded his chest and finally managed to calm down. Ignoring Malfoy and his useless commentary, he glanced at a clock. All the humour left him.

"Where is the damn aeroplane?!"

Now even more people were openly staring at him; though, happily, Malfoy was obviously pretending he didn't know Ron at all. The attendant at the gate glowered at Ron for a moment, then pointedly spoke over the loudspeaker that the plane was delayed.

Naturally, everyone in the terminal groaned and set their glares upon Ron as though he himself had ruined the flight.

Maybe it's the work of You-Know-Who! Ron thought inanely. A part of him recognised this as stupid, while the other part – the part that had been in the airport for six long hours – peered suspiciously at Malfoy.

"This is your doing, isn't it?" he hissed to the blond, who, at first, dismissed him with a smirk, then looked back with an expression that clearly said 'whaa?' Not really a fitting look for a Malfoy, and it would have pleased Ron if he were in his normal state of mind.

He continued, "You and the rest of your lot, those Death Eaters, they did this, didn't they? And that's why you're here." Grasping onto the last shreds of sanity, he managed to say all this quietly.

Malfoy had an amused sneer on his face when he said, "You've gone completely mad, I see. I have to say, it took longer than expected."

"My figuring out your evil plot?"

Silence as Malfoy stared blankly.

"No. Your going mad. You know, it's really no fun when you don't even get the insults."

Ron disregarded the barb – he was getting better at it, he'd have to tell Harry – and moved closer to Malfoy, so that sheer inches were between them. Malfoy edged back in his seat almost imperceptibly, which told Ron that he was unnerved, though his expression was as cool as ever.

"So, what's your merry little gang of murderers planning on doing, eh?"

"For the last time, you're unhinged, and all I am doing is taking a lovely trip to Greece. Though it would have been quicker to walk there, I'd imagine." Malfoy snapped, and pushed Ron away.

Before another word could be uttered, the gate attendant announced that the plane had just arrived. Cheers erupted throughout the room, and Ron promptly forgot his wonky idea.

* * *

As they went into the queue to board, a horrible thought occurred to Ron.

Trying to keep his voice down, and therefore avoiding another incident like the 'damn aeroplane' outburst, he asked, "Er… Malfoy. Where're you sitting?" The question didn't even come close to sounding casual.

Malfoy smirked.

Ron tried not to scream.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure you're in coach, as if I would be anywhere but first class. You've really forgotten everything you learnt at Hogwarts, haven't you?"

Ron wondered vaguely why they'd been on their best behaviour all this wretched day. Usually, he'd have given the blond git a bloody nose long ago. And Malfoy's insults hadn't been nearly as cutting; this was almost friendly, for him.

Malfoy was staring at Ron with an odd look, as though he'd just been thinking the same thing.

They both fell silent.

* * *

Malfoy sat in an empty (and roomy) first class seat, looked importantly behind him at the tiny coach ones, and smirked smugly. For his part, Ron glared, muttering a good riddance as he passed. He was just happy to finally be free. Free!

Looking back, he really shouldn't have allowed himself that happiness.

Finding his seat, he made himself as comfortable as possible, which wasn't much. He then made the mistake of looking up.

Bloody Draco Malfoy was making his way down the narrow aisle with the most disgusted sneer of distain that Ron had ever had the displeasure of witnessing. He wanted to hide under his chair. Don't come over, walk past…

Fate had decided to mock Ron for the day, it was apparent, and Malfoy took the unoccupied seat next to him.

"Don't. Say. A. Word," Malfoy growled.

Ron managed to stay quiet, merely hitting his forehead with a magazine and gazing helplessly at the phone embedded in the seatback in front of him. Perhaps he could call Harry, tell him he was in grave danger, and that now was the perfect time for him to be all hero-y. Just then, Hermione's nagging voice cut into his thoughts, taunting him, calling him chicken as she had on the phone. Some conscious that was to have.

It was because of this that Ron decided to speak, and speak with a certain glee, he did.

"So. Decided to sit back with the commoners, did you?"

* * *

Hermione scanned the tops of the crowd emptying from the plane. She caught sight of distinctive red hair, and hopped up and down, waving an arm.

"Ron! Over here!" Hermione told herself to keep calm; he wouldn't want her making a whole teary scene, after all. But when he made his way over to stand in front of her, she couldn't help it. She threw her arms around him, beaming. "Oh, Ron, I missed you! How's Harry? Did you control yourself enough to –" She cut herself off when she noticed both the sheepish look on Ron's face and the black eye he was sporting.

Before she could even begin her scolding, Draco Malfoy strode by, dragging his bags, glowering at the two of them through his own black eye.

"Weasel, feel free to just not return to England. I'm sure no one would mind, least of all your little shag-buddy here." With a head nod at Hermione, he walked off before Ron could pull out of Hermione's grip on his jacket sleeve.

She sighed.

"Well, I suspect you did better than I'd imagined."

End.