Fic: Mischief... Managed? - Day Four

[wyndewalker]

Title: Mischief.. Managed?

Author: Wyndewalker

Xover Fandom: Harry Potter

Summary : Xander's new brother-in-law tries to get him to play Quidditch.

Challenge: twistedshorts August-Fic-A-Day - Day Four

Authors note: 

Rating: PG-13 

Word Count: 349 according to Word

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  All rights belong to their owners and I merely borrow the characters for your amusement.

“You’re kidding, right?” Xander stared at his youngest brother-in-law and the object he was holding incredulously. “You cannot expect me to get on that.”

“Why not? You need to ride a broom to play Quidditch,” Ron Weasley patiently explained again. He had his Cleansweep in one hand and the loaner broom they kept around for guests in the other. Harry was leaning against the broom shed, his own Firebolt in hand, grinning at the whole thing.

“We’ve been over this. Me and mojo? Bad. Very bad. We’re like vamps and sun. So not mixy,” Xander insisted, waving his hands to ward off the broom Ron kept shoving at him.

“You’re a Wizard, aren’t you? You have a wand,” Ron practically growled, ignoring Harry’s snickers.

“One, I’m a Scooby. I only got a wand because Ginny insisted after she found out I could see the Leaky Cauldron without help. Two, it took five hours for the freaky wand guy to find me a wand that didn’t wreck his store and he told me to never come back. Me and mojo are bad.” Xander folded his arms over his chest, satisfied he’d made his point. Ron was almost as red as his hair while Harry practically rolling on the ground he was laughing so hard wasn’t helping any.

“It’s a broom for Merlin’s sake!” Ron shouted. “It’s not like it’s going to jump up and attack you!”

“Don’t say things like that!” Xander shrieked horrified.

Ron and Harry could only watch, mouths agape, as the broom leapt into the air and began chasing Xander around the yard. None of them noticed the Twins hidden by the house, wands directing the ‘rampaging’ broom.

Even the Twins gaped when, as he ran by the robes he’d left hanging on the fence, Xander pulled out a mid-sized two-headed battle axe. Within a minute the ‘evil’ broom had been reduced to kindling.

“Er, right. No Quidditch for Xander,” Ron muttered faintly as Xander did a victory dance over the remains, his axe held over his head, periodically shouting, “Who’s your daddy?” and “Go Zeppo! Go Zeppo!”

Finis