Disclaimer: Anything contained within that can be recognised as being a part of the Harry Potter Universe is the intellectual property of its respective owners.
Elsie Mo is a beautiful real ale, brewed by Castle Rock based in Nottingham, UK; I highly recommend a pint if you ever get the chance, she is lovely.
This was written in response to a challenge over in the Teachers Lounge:
Post-war Neville/Ron friendship fic. You can have Ron/Hermione and/or Neville/Hannah on the side if you like, but the focus must be on the two boys, not on their romances. 1000-1500 words.
Barmaids, Brothers and Best Mates
It always surprised Ron, how he would bump into the most unexpected people just when he either had to be somewhere or was desperately trying not to be seen. The peaceful muggle pub had not been his first choice for escaping the terrifying reality of his life, but after the heavens had opened upon London, he'd been forced to take refuge.
He found the barmaid on duty was friendly and polite and definitely knew her stuff, she'd all too happily recommend a few choice beverages to the man who wore his heartache on his sleeve.
Ronald Weasley had been nursing a double scotch, neat, when a familiar voice had been heard to his left.
"Pint of Theakston's Mild, if you've got one Luce." The light clatter of coins could be heard as the man emptied his pocket on to the bar top.
Ron almost imagined he could hear the shake of Lucy's head in her voice, "It's gone I'm afraid, Nev. However, you're in luck, we've just put Elsie on. Now I know she's your favourite."
"Go on then, give us a pint."
Ron listened as Lucy's footsteps disappeared towards the respective hand pull and as she struck up a conversation with another of the customers. He turned to watch her, despite never having met the girl before, he found her cheeriness to be contagious. Ron also noted that he knew the bloke who had ordered the Elsie Mo, although they hadn't seen each other in a long time.
It was common knowledge that Ron Weasley was terrible with correspondence, and left most of it to his wife. However, he was the man who never failed to stop to say hello to a friend if perchance they bumped into one another.
"Neville mate, long time, no see." Ron had slid his way along the bar to greet his old roommate.
"I'm doin' alright, mate." He smiled, handing the right money to Lucy, smiling thank you as he reached for his pint. "I heard about the baby, congratulations man. That's two now, I remember Hermione mentioning a couple of years back about her worries, you know with her injuries and all."
"Thanks, mate, we've over the moon. Honestly, wasn't sure I'd ever get one kid, and then suddenly there's another. It's great." Ron smiled, little did he realise, but the smile betrayed his subconscious worries. "I think you were freshly engaged, last time we spoke. How're the shackles?"
"I'm free of them, mate. Been married and divorced since we last spoke." He chuckled.
The pair reached for their glasses and moved to a table, the chairs holding far more comfort than a barstool.
"I quite enjoyed working at the apothecary, but the divorce cleared me out, and she took the house. McGonagall offered me Sprout's old position, as Head of Herbology. Still with the DMLE?"
The look of panic which flashed through Ron's eyes was enough for his old friend to realise the answer.
"What happened, mate? From what Hermione was sayin' you were near enough top of your class, and set to graduate."
"Ah, see," Ron's head fell, "I lied to 'Mione, I couldn't tell her the truth, not when she's expecting again."
Ron took a breath and steadied himself. Neville Longbottom was a good man and a better friend if anyone was going to help, Ron would definitely pick Nev.
"First few years were alright, the basic training wasn't too much of a problem. And the war hero thing definitely helped me through a few hiccups. You know, even with the worrying about Rose I made it through." He started, rolling the whisky tumbler between his hands. "Then Harry got fast-tracked, we always knew he was better than me.
"At first, I thought no big deal and figured that my new partner would be just as easy going and helpful. You know us both being trainees and everything. Harry and I looked out for each other, you know. Well, I ended up being put with this bloke from Wales, Mitchell. Sound bloke, is Mitch, although, reminds me too much of 'Mione, all books. But Mitch ain't got the natural skill to match his excessive reading to ability without practice.
"Then I learned they'd fast-tracked Harry because they thought I was slowing him down. Rose had just turned one, and Hermione was pushing us to buy a house. I didn't want to say no, but we were reaching the end of our basic training. I made it through by the skin of my teeth, and by god did I start reading and practising." Ron took a swig of his scotch, noticing that Neville had been paying attention, despite his eyes occasionally wandering to Lucy behind the bar; if anything was going on, at least Neville Longbottom had good taste.
"I've struggled, but I improved. Wasn't bottom of the class anymore, and I passed my written exams with flying colours. Hermione and I decided that, as Rose was still small that it was better if I didn't apply to any of the specialised departments. I mean, I would have loved to have gone straight into something like International Crime or the Drugs Squad, but they're dangerous, and I wanted Rose to have some memories of her poor old dad.
"So I've been no better than your bog standard bobby for the past couple of years. Hermione tells me she's got a bun in the oven, and then we're hit with these stupid arse cuts. I was going to apply for a position as Desk Sargent, but I've been handed my redundancy notice. Fuck… how do you tell an expectant mother that her husband is jobless?"
Neville shook his head, "you fucking don't, mate." He was half way down his pint when he waved over at the bar for another. "You've lied to her about how good you were, bet you've lied about some of the jobs you've bin on too. Your missus is gonna have your guts for garters."
Ron looked confused.
"She's hormonal, and you're a lying shitbag. She's gonna hope for the best and assume the worst. Man, I'm so glad I never knocked up my ex." Neville took a mouthful of his pint and hummed. "Best beer I've had in weeks. Good Ol' Elsie."
Ron couldn't help but worry, knocking back the rest of the whisky, he continued rolling the glass. "Not sure what you mean? Assume the worst?"
"How many times have you lied about being on an overnight raid, and been down the pub coming home from Harry's or your mums? Your wife is going to think you've been cheating on her for years. That's before she even gets to the bit where you're now no longer earning money, and she's off on maternity leave. She's gonna panic about bills and the house."
"I'm fucked." Ron rested his head in his hands.
"Well yeah, but perhaps not… speak to ya brother. George's helped me through a tight spot, and I know he needs a new shop manager… He needs you and apparently you need him. Plus you'll free me up to take that stunner out." Neville winked at Lucy behind the bar, her blush was a picture.
"Turned into quite the charmer, have you?" Ron called as Neville walked to the bar to pay for his pint.
"You have no idea." Neville nodded.
Luce had a fresh pint waiting for him, a smirk on her lips, a naughty twinkle in her eye, and was most definitely on the wrong side of the bar. "I'm off for the night, Elsie's on the house. See you tomorrow, Professor." She purred, leaving Neville with a chaste kiss.
Neville turned back to the table, noticing Ron was gone, he assumed to speak with George. Ron would sort things out, somehow the bloke always managed to land on his feet.
"Hey Luce, don't you want to stay for a drink?"