Title: "All's Ferret in Love and War"
Authors: angel_grace and monimala
Fandom: Veronica Mars/Harry Potter
Word Count: 1880
Disclaimer: Rob Thomas and J.K. Rowling own all.
Summary: A short sequel to our epic insanity, Veronica Mars and the Vagabond Squib, written because we were both feeling pretty silly and nostalgic.
Spoilers/Warnings: General spoilers for VM and the Harry Potter universe through HP: HBP. Some dirty words, crossover, AU, crack!fic.

"That," marveled Lamb with a slow shake of his head, "is sheer genius, Veronica. Just genius."

She tucked her wand into her back pocket, grinning at her handiwork. "I can't take all the credit. Honestly, I got the idea from Hermione."

The little blond (okay, slightly orange and still wearing man jewelry) ferret bouncing along the pier made a sound that was almost a growl. No, more like a mumble.

Fine, so Veronica's Transfiguration skills were still not N.E.W.T level… or even O.W.L level, but they would have to do. Especially when someone was being insufferable and that someone just happened to be her ex-boyfriend.

They'd been back in Neptune all of two hours. The trip was barely a blink by Portkey, but Veronica felt like they'd traveled for years and been gone even longer. Running into Logan very nearly first thing hadn't helped the sensation any. Staring at him, taking in that face and that fake, used car salesman smile, had made her feel like Rip Van Winkle. She didn't know him anymore.

But it hadn't stopped him from acting like he still knew her.

He'd swaggered up to her and Lamb on the boardwalk --seriously, who actually swaggered outside of a pirate movie or a romance novel?-- and maybe once it would have impressed her, once it would have meant something, but after a semester of watching Snape swoosh around in a cloud of black, it was distinctly lacking in panache.

"Well, well, Ronnie. How prodigal of you."

"Does that make you the virtuous son?" she asked snidely. "Your parole officer might disagree."

He scowled at her, and then seemed to notice that Lamb was there. "I heard you were studying abroad," he commented. "Apparently you weren't the only one," he added with a pointed look at her hand in Lamb's.

Lamb rolled his eyes at the weak pun, but didn't respond to the verbal jab. Even after three months of naked, enthusiastic Veronica in his bed, he still wasn't quite sure where he stood relative to the Veronica-Logan saga. He half expected her to drop his hand and make a snarky comment.

He refused to think about how much that would hurt.

But Veronica just squeezed his hand a little tighter. "Yes, I was in Scotland. Very exclusive school-- the kind money can't buy. And Donnie here was an excellent study buddy. He could certainly teach *you* a few things."

"I'm sure your father is just thrilled to know his little girl is screwing the man who stole his job," Logan sneered, the tips of his ears going red with anger.

"Actually, Keith stole it back," Lamb interjected, stroking the inside of Veronica's hand with his thumb. "Or did you not notice the regime change from the drunk tank? I think I'm going to let him keep it, too, since I'm actually excelling at this screwing thing. Might go pro."

Apparently the confirmation that Veronica and Lamb were fucking like magical bunnies was more than Logan could handle, because she saw his fist clench and his arm draw back.

The good news was that magical reflexes always trumped Muggle. The bad news was that she was going to receive a scathing letter from the Improper Use of Magic Department.

Still, voila! One bouncing ferret. Perhaps not perfect, but definitely satisfying.

"I probably shouldn't let him keep doing that, should I?" Veronica watched the flailing little limbs with a bit too much glee. PETA would be so ashamed of her.

"Probably not," Lamb agreed, with a note of regret. "If anyone sees him, they'll have to send a team out here to obliviate and then the Americans will get into it with the Ministry and it'll just be this whole thing…"

Luckily, the beach was still fairly deserted, with only a few slackers and stoners scattered along the sand. No members of PETA in sight and no one seeming to care that there was a rotating rodent just down the way from Sunny Sal's abandoned hot dog cart.

With what was perhaps the most unenthusiastic wand-wave in the world, Veronica muttered the right incantation and returned Logan to his two-legged state.

He collapsed on the pier mid-bounce, hitting the slats of wood with an audible thunk and following that with a string of expletives so inventive they were practically a magical incantation all unto themselves.

"Um, Veronica?" Lamb's elbow knocked her in the side.

"What?" She kept her wand at the ready just in case Logan wanted to try his hand at being Rocky Balboa again.

"What the fucking fuck, Veronica? What the Hell kind of school did they send you to? Giant Colossal Bitch University?"

Lamb nudged her again as Logan got to his feet unsteadily.

And that's when she saw them… the orange tufts of hair sticking out of the back of his collar.


"Minerva is going to kill you," Lamb chuckled, altogether too gleefully.

And the sound was drowned out by the sudden, shrill squawk of a seagull. Oh no. Veronica swallowed hard as the bright red envelope was released into her hands, its edges already beginning to smoke.

Logan's back hair was now the least of her problems.

"Correction… she's going to Howl me!"

Fortunately, she had someone with prime Howler experience at the ready and the envelope was swiped out of her fingers and torn open just moments before it could explode. Professor McGonagall's voice burst across the boardwalk like it was amped up to the loudest setting on a police bullhorn. "VERONICA MARS, HOW DARE YOU USE YOUR MAGIC IN FRONT OF MUGGLES?! HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?!"

"Um… you're Howling in front of Muggles." It probably wasn't wise --or useful-- to sass a Howler, but she couldn't quite resist. Especially since Sunny Sal was on his way back from the liquor store with his obligatory fifth of Jim Beam.

The envelope ceased its tirade and actually looked like it was *frowning*. Now that was impressive. Slightly softer, it flapped at her: "Do watch yourself, Veronica. You will be cited for your misuse." And then it disintegrated in a very Mission Impossible-esque puff of smoke.

"What do we do about Echolls?" The elbow was back and the third nudge was sharp --"Ow!"-- "You're not allowed to obliviate… you'll just get cited again."

"I figured that much," Veronica sighed. "As the saying goes, 'oh, bollocks.'"

"Hello, I am still standing here," Logan reminded, bristling (literally) as he finally realized he'd gotten furrier. "And I would like an explanation for why I've gone 'Teen Wolf.'"

"Yeah, we're trying to forget that." Lamb chewed his lower lips for a second, a little alarmed to realize that it tasted like Veronica's berry-flavored gloss. "Maybe somebody needs to obliviate *us*?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Logan demanded. "If you don't tell me what the hell's going on, I'll..."

"You'll what?" Lamb asked, drawing himself up to his full height and stepping closer to Logan. "Call the cops? Somehow I think Sheriff Mars is going to side with his daughter."

Logan glared at him, but it was less than convincing.

"We still need to do something," Veronica pointed out.

Lamb sighed. He had really hoped it wouldn't come to this. "Fine," he said, just before turning and laying Logan out with a single punch.

Veronica stared down at her ex, sprawled unconscious on the boardwalk. "How exactly was *that* helpful?" she demanded.

"It shut him up, didn't it?"

"You do have a point there. But now what are we supposed to do with him?"

"I don't really care, Veronica. My body still thinks it's in Scotland, and in less than an hour I have to face your father and tell him that, oh, by the way, while I was guiding you on your Magical Mystery Tour I decided to take a detour into your pants. Logan Echolls is the least of my problems."

Veronica reached out and touched his arm. "Is that what you're so worried about? Do you honestly think that after all this time, I haven't told my father that we're... together? I might have left out the getting-in-my-pants part, but we're not going into this blind."

Lamb boggled at her. "He knows?"

"Of course."

"He is totally going to shoot me."

She laughed. "No, he isn't. He promised to never shoot anyone that I love."

"And that covers me how?" Lamb prodded Logan's prone and groaning body with his toe.

"Oh, stop fishing, Donnie." It was her turn to commence with the elbows and the nudging. "If I cuddled, rode brooms, and did shots of firewhiskey with just anybody, I'd be shacking up at Hogwarts with Malfoy."

"I still think Keith's going to shoot me, Witch."

She patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll protect you, Squib."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, not caring who might see them, or even that there was an unconscious pain-in-the-ass at their feet. "What time did you tell your dad you'd be home?"

"I didn't give him a specific time, why?"

"Because my apartment's not far from here, and I'm exhausted. I thought maybe we could go take a quick nap."

She arched one eyebrow at him. "A nap? When was the last time we got in bed together and just slept?"

He pulled her tighter against him, wanting to feel every inch of her. "What can I say? Bouncing ferrets make me hot."

He cut off her laugh with a searing kiss and he felt her body relax into his. When they broke apart to breathe, she said, "You are seriously twisted, Donnie."

"I know. And you love me for it."

"You're fishing again."

"Yeah, and…?"

"And…" Veronica tapped him half-teasingly and half-threateningly with her wand. He tapped back with *his* (eight and a half inch, definitely wood). "And I love you for it."


Logan tossed and turned, struggling to find a comfortable position despite the fact that he was shedding all over his Egyptian cotton sheets. "Dude," Dick had pronounced, uncharitably, "I will wax your chest. I will pull your finger. I will do many things in the name of our friendship. But shaving your back? That's just heinous."

No, heinous was Veronica fucking Sheriff Lamb, of all people. If you wanted to talk hair… the man was thirty-five. He was going to be balding in a few years and then where would Ronnie be? Wishing she'd stuck with someone who wasn't receding, that's where!

Logan punched his pillow repeatedly, but then stopped as a loud crash sounded from the balcony. "What the fuck?!" He bolted upright in bed, scrambling to climb out but then slipping on his tail. Jesus Christ, he had a *tail*?!

As luck would have it, whatever made the noise came to him, thumping open the bedroom door and then proceeding to unevenly thump its way across the room.

"Wh-who's there?"

"That's what's wrong with Muggles today. No defenses at all." A low, rasping voice was muttering, speaking nonsensically like Veronica had earlier. It grew just loud enough to bark, "You know what you need, Boy? CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"C-constant what?" Logan scrambled --okay, slipped-- back against the headboard.

He had the impression of a giant, swiveling eyeball… a horrible, disgusting, eyeball, just before the blinding flash of light.



May 8, 2007.

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