Disclaimer: I literally own nothing that resembles any of the Harry Potter universe created by JKR or WB. I just like to play in their sandbox and make the characters do my bidding.

Author's Note: So my other story is so depressing that I had to write something humorous and this little ficlet popped into my head. I hope you enjoy, will likely be 3 chapters.

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Ron grumbled loudly and unhappily at the loud knocking coming from his and Hermione's front door. Shaking a quick Tempus out of his wand, he swore upon seeing that it was far too early for anyone decent to be calling. That only left…

"You'd better have a bloody good excuse –" he began, but the air whooshed out of his lungs as he was bodily forced back into his own living room. Instinct honed from five years of Auror training kicked in and he nearly cursed the black bastard.

"I am in need of…assistance," the familiar drawl of their former Potions Professor sounded as the door shut perfunctorily behind him.

"You'll be in need of a lot more when I'm through with you," Ron harrumphed, shuffling to the kitchen for some tea. "You're bloody lucky you didn't wake Rose, you wanker."

"Spare me your moaning, Weasley," Severus Snape drawled, studying his nails as he leaned against their mantle. "And mind you don't under-steep the tea this time."

"Right. You like it strong enough to wake you up and black, like your heart," Ron snipped, bringing the teapot over to the small kitchen table.

"You know me so well."

Ron waited for Snape to say something. Anything, really, to explain why he was in Ron's kitchen at five in the morning on a Sunday – Ron's only day off, as it were.

"Are you waiting for an engraved invitation? Spit it out," Ron griped when it became clear that Snape required some prodding. A black glare was his only answer for a moment.

"I am in need of assistance."

"Yeah, you said that already –"

"I am in need of…your assistance."

"How did that taste coming out of your mouth?" Ron asked with a particularly roguish grin.

"Like bubotuber pus," Snape growled, shooting another dangerous look over at Ron. "If you're going to be a pest about it, I can go wake your dear wife."

"Be my guest. It's your funeral."

Ron knew what Hermione was like when she was lacking sleep. Rose kept them plenty awake most of the time, but lately they'd been able to get a solid five hours if they were lucky. With this blessed new routine, Hermione was more likely to snap if she was awoken by anything other than their infant daughter's cries for a feeding. And Snape knew it, judging by the gritted teeth and the scowl on his lined face. Lord knew what Harry saw in the old git.

"What can I do for you, Severus?" Ron asked in his best boy voice, knowing how it irked the man when he emphasized just how far their friendship had come. From student to former irritant to more nuisance than anything; then friends. Sort of. If you called insults and giving as good as you got friendship. But still a bloody thorn in Snape's side occasionally. Like right now.

"I need your opinion on something. Can you meet me on Knockturn Alley at 7:30 this morning? It is of utmost importance."

Ron looked at the kitchen clock and huffed a laugh, even as he served the tea that was stronger than he liked it.

"That's in a little over two hours. Thanks for the notice. Why so early and why Knockturn?"

"None of your business! Will you be there or not?" Snape hissed with some of his old vitriol.

"Yeah, all right. Keep your pants on, for Merlin's sake."

And with no more than a by your leave, Snape Disapparated directly from the hall, waking Rose after all.

"Oh, you tosspot," Ron muttered mutinously, taking a moment to dump the now useless tea before heading to grab his wailing daughter. He didn't care if Harry was in love with the berk; he was going to kill Severus Snape.

\\\\\\\\\\

"I hope you're happy. You woke Rose with your racket and Hermione's ready to skin me alive."

"Tell her to call me if she needs the spell. I've several."

Of course he did, Ron thought. Dark Arts lover.

"Why, pray tell, are you in your Auror's robes? Is Sunday not your day for lazing about?"

"You said it was important and to meet you on Knockturn Alley. I made the leap and figured you needed my law enforcement services."

"Your deductive reasoning skills are incorrect, as usual," Snape sneered. "It's a wonder that the Auror corps is as competent as they say with such shining examples of intelligence marring their ranks."

"Oi! Tell that to the dragon smugglers Harry and I caught last week," Ron protested, irritated beyond reason by Snape's insults.

"Be that as it may, Weasley; you're going to scare my 7:30 meeting away," Snape interrupted before Ron could get going on a tirade. With a swift wave of his wand – Ron was 99% certain he hadn't been holding it a moment before, and how did he do that, anyway? – the scarlet robes were muted to a dull brown.

"Oh, very funny. You had to go for my favourite colour, did you?"

"This is far more appealing than the Gryffindor rags you call a uniform. Now, come along. We are nearly late and I abhor tardiness."

"You're such a prick sometimes. You know that, right?" Ron followed along, even as Snape shot a smug smile over his shoulder. "And just what do you need an off-duty Auror for if not for the fact that I am part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

No response. Ron sometimes questioned why they were friends. Maybe slightly more often than sometimes. Like all the time.

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A/N: Drop me a line if you enjoyed!