Ron’s Bestfriend
First Caper: Bingo!
There were so many stories already about Ron and Hermione post-war that this story simply begged to be among them.
We start neither at a war celebration, however, nor a Hogwarts graduation, nor a belated seventh year adventure at same beloved school, nor at a wedding, nor even an engagement party or some such special jovial occasion where we see our dear Hermione all pretty and glowing, and Ron all handsome but covering it up completely with his bumbling nerves…
No, we start at a perfectly ordinary day in Ron’s office, just when he suddenly sprayed black Auror’s coffee on several memos zooming like insistent flies before his eyes, because he suddenly remembered that it was not an ordinary day at all, though perfect, what with Hermione’s picture on his table and the memory of that morning’s sweetness still reeling in his memory.
This explained that morning’s sweetness, Merlin’s beard.
Ron gulped at his coffee”a nervous action, that, but he was grinning that endearing grin of his”depending on who we’re talking to”and the look on his face as he gazed past the flitting memos out the charmed window was quite beatific.
That morning must have been really sweet, indeed. Oh, yes, believe me.
A heady mix of waking up to the delightful smell of delightfully tousled brown locks, and the owner of such locks waking up herself, burrowing deeper into his embrace, turning smiling chocolate eyes at him, breathing to his ear, ‘Love you, Ron’, kissing him, not stopping until they turned the bed sheets damp with love’s delicious sweat, and then afterwards cooking him perfect eggs Benedict on muffins, and strawberry French toasts and kippers that positively thrashed his own mother’s culinary prowess…
It’s the eighteenth of July. And aside from being the Ministry’s payday, it’s also two months today since Hermione married him.
He never thought of it otherwise. In his mind, it’s always ‘she married me’. Not in the tone as in ‘she set canaries on me’, but as in ‘she loves me? Really?’ Just that same awed and admiring tone, you know, like when he first told her he loved her after she fixed his ink-splattered Dementor essay back in their eventful sixth year.
But we were talking about it being their second ‘month-sary’.
Last month’s had passed almost unnoticed because they were still in bed then”I mean, still in honeymoon then. Ron had already been sworn-in to his office then and was granted a paid month-long vacation as a wedding gift by his father”I mean, the Minister.
Ron needed to give his wife something special today as much as he needed to breathe. Two months ago she had made him the happiest of men”and she still did it in a daily basis.
Ron batted away the memos and they lay meekly on his table. He got up and paced. What to give her? What to give Hermione? What to give his brilliant beautiful sexy perfect wife?
“You bloody, bloody idiot.”
Ron smacked himself on the forehead and grinned again.
Their courtship had been almost non-existent. After all those years of bickering and jealousy and denial and then the typical muddling attributes of the war, they had thought it silly to go through the ‘going out’ phase when everyone wouldn’t have so much as raised an eyebrow if they sat at dinner and announced they were married. So they did just that.
Some time after the dust had settled and Harry was a little less barraged by owls”which meant a whole decade later”Ron and Hermione went to a small meeting with a magistrate, with a bouquet of red, red tulips, and the rings. Everything went as they expected, although they overestimated the nonchalance, because his mother burst into tears and threw the biggest mince pie on the platter at his face, and Ginny murdered Hermione with her eyes, muttering about bridesmaid promises and bridal bouquet Summoning. In the end, his father had declared they must marry again, this time properly. They didn’t argue. They’d gladly go through it again and again a thousand times.
The point of this happy recollection was that Ron had realized there was one thing Hermione had missed. He took his cloak from the stand, stuffed his unread memos into an inside pocket, and practically jigged all the way out of his office. Outside the door, however, he tried to carry a more formal countenance.
No use making his underlings think that their Head was not only young but barmy as well. Never mind that he fought Voldemort and his minions along with Harry Potter because where was that one now? No one knows and the Weasleys wouldn’t say. The last the world had heard of him was when he granted an interview to the Daily Prophet only to have the reporter publish one line and one line only: Ginny, will you marry me? Barmy. Tonkses among the Aurors were rare, see.
○0○
“We’re practically strangers!”
“Hermione’s been keeping you all to herself.”
“Look, you have a new freckle.”
“Where?” Ron pretended to check his face in alarm at the register’s chrome finish, still wearing the grin. “Sod off, gits. I’m on a mission today.”
Fred and George grabbed an arm of their brother apiece. “What mission then? Do give us a word and maybe we can help you and at the same time give a healthy push to our business.”
“Don’t you ever think of anything else? There’s a WWW everywhere it almost makes me sick!”
“Ah, but the Muggles love our tricks, too, and they think it’s ‘almost like magic!’” Fred beamed.
“Alright, whatever, just let me go, I want to get home early.”
“Let us do your mission for you then, why don’t you?” George offered.
“No!”
The twins grinned manically. “Ah, not Ministry business.”
“Hermione business, Fred.”
“What is it? We have a lot of new lingerie right here, brother dear.”
Ron was blushing his endearing blush and wrenched his arms away from his brothers’ hold. “Not lingerie, you idiots. Just let me get to it.”
“Hmmm, well, if you insist. But you might want to visit the new shop over beside Gringotts.”
“Behind Gringotts.”
“Is it behind? Hard to keep track, really.”
“No, I mean, the shop behind Gringotts is cool as well.”
“And what shops are these? No, don’t answer. I’ll be stupid to go there. See you at Mum’s dinner.”
“Whoa, Ronnikins, not so fast! We missed you; we’ll walk you to the shops.”
Where was Harry when you needed him?
Well, he’s in the Philippines, on the other side of the Atlantic and the Pacific, in an island called Palawan, seeing pearl farms and crocodile farms and coral reefs, lazing around in sugar-fine, white-sand beaches and steeped in mango nectar, with Ginny.
Ron had no choice but his twin brothers’ company.
The shop beside Gringotts was a baby shop, the awning a rainbow of pastels and the display windows full of stuffed hippogriffs which looked too cute to be real.
Ron sputtered.
“Calm down! We just thought you wouldn’t waste much time...”
The shop behind Gringotts was a jewellery place, affluent, with a velvety, gold-embroidered crimson awning and a carpet on the frosted glass entrance, which was guarded by a liveried burly wizard.
“Well, Ronnikins, by your lack of sputtering and speech, we assume we are right? This is your mission?”
“What mission are you talking of, sirs?” asked the concierge.
“What mission can we talk of otherwise? Not in any illegal engagements, are you?”
“Fred!” Ron lost his lack of speech and sputtered.
The burly wizard swelled in potent indignation. “This is a noble establishment, messieurs. A far cry from that joke of a place called Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, for instance.”
The twins’ faces were wiped of their mock poker faces; no doubt they had not expected Fred’s prank to rebound like this.
“Have you been there?”
“Noh, and I do not wish to. Are you going in, messierurs?”
“Noh, we do not wish to. We are from Fortescue’s, and we thought you might like to test our new sundae, for free, of course, in exchange for your noble opinion,” Fred said with a bow.
George conjured a tall goblet of a quite-delicious-looking chocolate and vanilla swirl sprinkled with tiny orange and pink marshmallows. The concierge gave it one look and grinned widely, smacking his lips as George gave him the goblet. The burly wizard sniffed it fastidiously, closing his eyes. “Mmm! Almonds and cinnamon!”
Of course, he lost no time slurping it up, all dignity forgotten. By the time the shiny silver spoon clinked on the empty goblet, the burly wizard was replaced by a hippo on his hind legs.
Ron groaned.
“That was most satisfactory and exquisite, messieurs, an excellent recipe,” said the hippo. It took him two seconds to frown at his thick growl-y voice and then frown at his thick gray hide before he whipped out his wand and pointed it at Fred and George, who ducked, howling with laughter.
The hippo stumbled on his giant hind legs and the spell he was still firing shot to Ron, who blinked at it in the half-second he saw what was happening. He’d have no time to duck and it was entirely Fred and George’s bloody fault...
A flash of white hair overtook the flash of hex light, and the next second, Ron felt blinding pain in his backside. He had tumbled onto the pavement, sent there by a dog.
He blinked. No, not a dog; a puppy. Brown spots over white fur. Floppy ears and great brown eyes. Big feet on Ron’s chest. Velvety pink tongue lolling out of a smiling mouth.
And the most remarkable thing: a stone sparkled like a light on its shaggy chest.
Ron lost all awareness of the fight beside them. He just stood up, cradling the puppy to his chest.
“Now, where did you come from, little guy? I can’t just take you home with me when you aren’t paid for. Hermione won’t like that.”
Five minutes later, Ron came out of the Menagerie, a hundred and fifty galleons deducted from his account in Gringotts, and he’s smiling about it.
○0○
“Hi! You’re early.”
“Yes, well, it’s a special day, isn’t it?”
Do I have to say what they shared as Ron entered the door? Yes, a long, sweet kiss, the box in Ron’s hand notwithstanding.
“I thought I’d have to remind you, you looked so bewildered this morning.”
Hermione was wearing a simple auburn silk dress that flared down to her knees, draping every curve delicately and making her skin glow like milk. “You have that effect on me, Hermione,” Ron said hoarsely.
Hermione smiled and kissed him again for that. “Oh, what’s this?” she asked, noticing the box.
“And what’s this?” Ron returned, the awe and admiration back in his voice, reaching the dining room from the hall and seeing the candles shedding golden light over the delicate fillets and steaks and the bottle of wine chilling on a pewter bucket of ice on the table.
“My first try on cooking a fancy dinner for you.”
“It’s just really flying and chess you couldn’t do perfectly on the first try, isn’t it?”
“Well, I’m glad you think so, Ron.” Hermione laughed. “But you might want to taste them first!”
He gently placed the box down on the carpeted floor. Hermione raised a brow at him and he waggled a finger at her before forking a piece of the steak into his mouth. It was divine, with a hint of herbs he wouldn’t be able to name. And the fillet practically melted in his mouth in a burst of flavours. He turned to Hermione with a dazed look on his face.
But she was somewhere on level with his knees, squatted on the floor already untying the ribbon on the box. Curious wench couldn’t wait. So he forked another bite of steak and joined her on the floor, wanting to see her reaction.
“Oh, Ron!” she breathed in shock.
“You like him?” Ron asked tentatively.
“He’s adorable.” And Hermione turned gleaming eyes to him. He sighed in relief. He should have gotten her a cat, wouldn’t you say? Yes, especially as Crookshanks had died three years ago. But, you know, a cat like that, it would almost feel like a sacrilege to even try to replace him.
Hermione had taken the pup into her arms. “He’s so soft.”
The moment he was out of the box, it transfigured into a basket lined with a red fleece blanket. On top of the blanket appeared matching red bowls for food and drink. Hermione beamed. “Wonderful present, Ron.”
Ron scooted over until their hips touched. He also stroked the puppy’s downy fur, twining his fingers with hers as he did so. “The woman at the menagerie sedated him for the Apparition home, he should wake any moment.”
“Oh, Ron, look!” Hermione had noticed the stone. She gently rolled the puppy in her arms so that he lay there like roadkill, feet in the air. They laughed softly.
“Yeah, that’s the reason why I took him, aside from his cuteness and his saving me from a hex”don’t ask, Fred and George picked a fight, see”it’s a diamond, Hermione. I forgot I never gave you a diamond.”
She snuggled against him after giving a kiss on his jaw. “What for?”
“Oh don’t pretend like you don’t know, you were just so anti-romance you ditched any plans for engagement rings.”
“Well, look, diamond puppies are better.”
Ron smiled, burying his face in her hair, inhaling her apple and vanilla scent. “I knew Crooks was irreplaceable so””
“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Hermione said hastily; she still hadn’t gotten over her cat, apparently. “And dogs are better for families.”
“Fred and George took me to a baby shop, you know.”
“And?”
“And, nothing, I thought I’d get reacquainted with my lunch.”
Hermione laughed evilly. “I can’t wait to see your reaction when I do get pregnant.”
“It will be like this,” Ron growled, kissing her again and tipping her back to the floor, unheeding of the fact that they had a puppy between them.
Hermione giggled against his lips, kissing him back even as she braced him with her arms to keep him from squashing the puppy still in her chest.
“Stop, Ron, he’s waking!”
Ron scrambled upright and pulled Hermione with him. They watched as the yawn came, and then the big eyes blinked open. Hermione moaned in delight. The puppy burst into happy yips and immediately attempted to lick their faces.
“Oh my, I guess cats are too dignified for this kind of affection,” Hermione giggled, embracing the pup and passing it to Ron to avoid the licking. She got up and unceremoniously took her steak from her plate and plopped it onto one of the red bowls.
Ron swallowed his protest when he saw how gleefully the puppy turned to his dinner. He and Hermione exchanged bemused looks.
“What will we name him?”
“You pick, you’re good at names.”
“I don’t know, Ron, um, Fluffy?” Hermione grinned.
Ron made a face and the puppy also paused in his occupation to tilt his head at Hermione as if to say, “Are you mental?” They laughed again.
“Cerberus, then. Facing it was our first frolic together, Ron. What about it, Cerb?” Hermione added, wiping the puppy’s dribbling chin.
Cerberus gave a satisfied yip.
Husband and wife twinkled at each other. You’d think they just named their first child.
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