FLAMEOUT \\ fred weasley

Chapter One

11 August, 2005

Getting impulsively and drunkenly married was not, in hindsight, an entirely shocking turn of events for Aruna Sundar. Frankly, she really ought to have expected something of this nature to happen to her eventually.

In fact, Runi had a somewhat regrettable habit of falling into the most unusual of predicaments entirely by chance. This had not always bothered her — on the contrary, some of her best memories from her Chudley Cannon days were of the strange misadventures she'd accidentally embarked on — but as of late, it had become something of an annoyance that, more often than not, drew unwanted media attention to her life and escapades.

When her contract with the Cannons had ended a year ago and she'd become a free agent, nearly all the teams in the British and Irish Quidditch League had jumped at the chance to sign her. This included the Ballycastle Bats, who'd been the favourites to win until the Cannons — and specifically Runi — had quite literally pulverised them with Bludgers, knocking them out of the running in the very first round of the championship semi-finals in an upset victory. For two months, she'd been the most sought-after Quidditch player in Europe. She could have had her pick of the lot.

She'd wanted the Holyhead Harpies.

Gwenog Jones had been the only league captain who hadn't courted her with fancy dinners and the promise of a brand new Firebolt 4. In fact, she'd been the only league captain that hadn't courted Runi Sundar at all.

Runi had self-respect, but she had ambitions, too, and one of those was to be part of the Harpies, which had been her favourite team since she first moved to England after school several years before. She'd be damned if she let something silly like ego get in the way of something that had grown into her most important dream. Swallowing her pride, she'd scheduled a lunch at the Leaky Cauldron at the beginning of the previous fall with Gwenog, who'd captained the team for the last decade or so, along with head coach Patricia Bourne and the team's owner, Gareth Hughes.

It had been immediately clear to Runi that Hughes (or Hughie, as they all called them) had been dying to talk to her for weeks. He was a weaselly, obsequious sort of fellow who was prone to agree with everything Runi said — not, she suspected, because he shared any convictions of hers in particular, but rather because he was something of a suck up. She began to play a game, simply for her own amusement, of saying the most outrageous thing she could possibly think of and then watch Hughie twist himself into the most ridiculous knots to fawn over her.

Patricia Bourne had seemed much more sensible than Hughie in that first meeting, with a serious countenance and a polite but no-nonsense demeanour that had appealed greatly to Runi. She seemed to have a sense of humour, too, and Runi got the sense that though the longtime coach of the team was not necessarily interested in signing her, she wasn't precisely disinterested in the prospect, either.

This had of course meant that Gwenog Jones was the person most reluctant to work with her. The moment Runi had figured that out, she'd set down her mead with a thunk and interrupted whatever it was that Hughie was prattling on about.

"Why don't you like me?" She had asked bluntly, looking Gwenog Jones straight in the eye.

To her right, Hughie had spluttered and said, "Of course Gwenog likes you, don't you Gwenog?"

Gwenog had shrugged. "You seem like a bit of an arrogant berk," she said calmly.

Runi had pursed her lips, ignoring the horrified yelps of denial coming from Hughie. "They said the same about you, back in the day."

Gwenog Jones had been playing for Holyhead since she'd graduated from Hogwarts. At thirty-six years old, she was a veteran of the league, but in her prime she'd been a hellraiser, known for her short temper and frequent blowups. In one particularly notorious interview from the early 90s, she'd began listing all the most famous players in the league and pointed out the flaws in their gameplay, which had cemented her legacy as one of the most egotistical — if talented — Beaters to ever play.