¿Mixed Chemistry?

Chapter 1

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley entered the lift to head up to their respective floors. Mrs. Weasley worked on the eighteenth floor of the Ministry of Magic where she worked as an advisor in the auror department. Mr. Weasley on the other hand worked on the twenty ninth floor where he worked to help train new members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Only four years in existence, it was established out of necessity. It coincided with the reemergence of what the Wizarding world termed the Rise of the Death Eaters. Where once the Order met in secrecy merely eight years ago, authorities at the Ministry now recognized the importance of a defense against those who would disrupt the balance of peace; those that followed the beliefs of the most evil Dark Wizard of them all, Lord Voldemort.

Mr. Weasley slid his hand into his wife’s as he looked sideways at her. She smiled back and gave his hand a squeeze. She moved in closer to the young man as they waited for the lift to end its journey at the first stop. She was a good foot shorter than the six foot eight inch red headed former Quidditch goalkeeper. He laid his auburn locks on her deep brown mane. She smiled up at him. No longer did she have those large front teeth she had had to grow into during her early school days.

The lift dinged at the eighteenth floor. The young woman took a step forward as the lift doors slid open her hand still held by her husband’s. Ronald Weasley pulled his wife into him and they kissed for what seemed like a long time as the lift doors almost shut upon them twice. Neither noticed until a small crowd of her fellow aurors began to congregate around the wide-open lift doors. There was no doubt that they had sensed them coming up the lift and awaited the morning routine display of affection.

“Oh, get a room you two,” one of her stranger looking fellow aurors joked.

The couple finally looked up towards their audience and smiled as they both seemed to turn a light shade of pink. “I’ll see you later, Hermione,” Ronald Weasley kissed his wife again on the cheek before letting her hand go.

‘I love you,’ she mouthed before the doors closed. Two of the female aurors took her by the elbow and feigned jealousy as they walked into their offices. Meanwhile the young man breathed in as he waited alone for the next eleven floors to clear. I am so lucky, he thought to himself. As the doors opened to the twenty ninth floor, the young man was greeted by his old friend, a bespectacled young man with his long dark brown bangs hanging almost over his right eye, seemingly hanging that way to cover up the famous scar.

“All right, Ron.”

“All right, Harry,” the young man got out of the lift and joined his friend.

* * *

Ronald Weasley had met Hermione Granger and Harry Potter thirteen years ago at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The three Gryffindor friends had their share of adventures among their studies at the venerable school. They had also made their share of adversaries, led by their Slytherin counterparts, Draco Malfoy and his cronies Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Draco Malfoy had been a pain in their sides at the very off. Both Harry and Ronald despised him. Hermione hated him more than the two combined. He was his father’s son. Lucius Malfoy, an original Death Eater feigned his loyalty to the Wizarding community after Voldemort had been defeated the first time.

Mr. Malfoy opened his son’s eyes to the Dark Arts, the subject in which Draco had excelled in at Hogwarts. The white blonde, grey eyed young man carried himself with an air of arrogance. He lived by his father’s words. He trusted him. His words were obviously the truth and those words were from the Dark Lord.

The pure bloods were going to get their day in the sun if it were all up to the Malfoys. Half bloods and Mudbloods would pay for thinking they belonged in their world. Voldemort, a half blood despised muggles. His father turned his back on his pureblood mother after she had told him about herself. He vowed to rid the world of non-pureblood wizards and witches. His followers, the Death Eaters were to do his bidding in this respect.

Harry Potter himself was a half blood; his father was a wizard, his mother a muggle witch. He was the boy who lived. Voldemort became a mere shell of himself after their first encounter. Eleven years later, Harry would learn that he and Voldemort were to forever be connected. Along with his friends and the staff of Hogwarts, he was to defend Wizard Kind.

If Malfoy hated Harry, he despised Ronald Weasley. Ronald was the sixth of seven redheaded Weasleys to attend Hogwarts. Unlike Harry, Ronald was of pureblood. How ludicrous was it that he enjoyed associating with those half bloods. Even worse was his affinity towards the Mudblood Granger.

Malfoy loathed her the most. He remembered the first time he had seen her. The Sorting Ceremony was underway and there she was. The brown haired, mousy looking girl spouted out facts about the school as if she had pre-read all of her textbooks before the term even began. What a know-it-all showoff, he thought.

“She’d better not be sorted into Slytherin with us,” Malfoy had said to Crabbe and Goyle, two close family friends.

“Never going to happen, Draco,” Gregory Goyle answered.

“How do you know?” Malfoy wondered allowed.

Vincent Crabbe piped up, “She’s not a pureblood; not even a half blood at that.”

“She’s a filthy Mudblood,” Malfoy spat out with disdain. “There’s no place for her kind here.”

Her kind being muggle-born wizards and witches, or as Malfoy and those that believed the same thing: Mudbloods or dirty bloods.