House: Hufflepuff
Position: Muggle Studies
Standard
Prompt: [Time] Midday
Word Count: 2101

AN: Muggle AU.

Ron knows it's going to be one of those days when he pushes open the door to the vet's, and a cacophony of barks and squawks greets him. The waiting room is full, and he has to carefully weave his way past furry limbs to reach the desk.

"Name?" the harassed looking receptionist demands.

"Chudleigh Weasley. We have a midday appointment." Despite the frosty welcome, he pastes a smile on his face.

"Take a seat. The vet is running late."

"Oh. How long? My boss will go mental if I don't get back in time."

The receptionist shrugs and turns back to her paperwork.

"Pleasant woman," Ron mutters to himself as he turns to survey the packed room. The smell of animals is overwhelming, churning his stomach. In one corner, a Great Dane is drooling on one of the only spare seats. Eventually, he locates a drier option between an older man with a large parrot sat on his shoulder and what looks to be a crazy cat lady.

Chudleigh whines as Ron takes his seat, and the redhead meets the blonde cockapoo's eyes in agreement. "I know, mate; I don't want to be here too long, either."

The dog flops down on the floor with a grunt, his weight a welcome comfort against the cast on Ron's leg. It doesn't hurt Ron; the dog is always gentle with him. Too kind to hurt a fly, his mum used to say.

The stupid pooch has developed a limp. Ron had first noticed it a few weeks ago and has been keeping a close eye on him for any improvements since, but he doesn't seem to be getting any better. He'd rather not have to bring him to the vet—he's not sure he can afford it—but the dog is his best friend, after all. He'll find a way to make it work.

Ron's stomach churns as he thinks about his companion's injury. The poor pup is getting old, and everything is a lot harder for him than it used to be. Ron doesn't know what he would do if something happened to him. Chudleigh has been a constant presence in his life since before Ron can remember, and they've been through some rough times together. The dog was there to comfort Ron through his recent break-up with his then-girlfriend, Lavender, and when Ron first broke his foot, Chudleigh tried to lick it better.

It was a no brainer when Ron had moved out of his parents' house and into his own flat a year or so ago. Despite being the family pet, Chudleigh went with Ron. He needed the company and someone to make sure he got up every morning.

The digits on his mobile phone tick over painfully slowly. As they near twelve-thirty, a woman's voice disturbs him from his mindless scrolling.

"Chudleigh?"

He is so absorbed in his phone; it doesn't register that the vet is calling the dog's name. She clears her throat, then speaks again, this time louder and more assertively.

"Chudleigh Weasley?"

The dog whines, following the noise with a sharp bark.

"Oy!" Ron frowns, finally lifting his head to glance in the direction of the woman calling his dog's name.

The dark brown eyes are the first thing he notices, and his heart skips a beat as he almost gets lost in them. A busy mess of the curliest brown hair Ron has ever seen tops a warm olive-skinned face.

Ron fumbles for Chudleigh's lead as he gets to his feet quickly, and the pair limp their way back past furry limbs towards the vet.

"Oh, you've been in the wars, haven't you?"

"Yeah… it's been a rough few months." Ron frowns, trying to work out how she knows. Aside from the cast on his leg, he always thinks he presents quite a sunny personality. It's something he prides himself on. His confusion grows when the petite brunette laughs.

"Well, I meant Chudleigh, but I'm sorry to hear you've been having a rubbish time too." She holds out her hand, and Ron shakes it eagerly, trying to ignore the creep of heat on his neck. "I'm Doctor Granger, but you two can call me Hermione. This way, please."

The vet is cheerful, and Ron finds himself eager to do as he's told. She lets go of his hand then turns without waiting for a response or acknowledgement. Hermione leaves the waiting room, leading Ron and Chudleigh down a short, sterile white corridor before she pushes open the door to her office, gesturing for the duo to head in first.

Chudleigh stops on the threshold and throws Ron a concerned look, his head tilted to the left and his ears down. For a dog that is usually stupid, he always seems to know when something is wrong. He recognises that bad things happen in this room.

Ron doesn't blame him for being suspicious. Chudleigh has had a healthy life until now, so they only ever visit the vets for vaccinations and when he had the snip when he was a puppy.

The dog whines again, but Ron ignores him, pulling at his lead just a little bit harder. "Come on, you dickhead. Don't show me up in front of the nice lady. She won't hurt you." He throws an apologetic look at the vet.

"Oh, it's okay. Chudleigh isn't the first animal to be afraid to come in. Try this?" Hermione opens a glass jar and holds up a treat. The dog's ears prick up immediately, and he trots over to the bench, tail wagging with his lead trailing behind him.

"He's very food motivated, just like the rest of the family!" Ron rolls his eyes as the dog, seemingly forgetting about his bad leg, hops up onto the examination table and stares adoringly at the vet.

"Well, I don't blame him. I'm the same." Hermione gives Chudleigh a treat and ruffles the fur on his head before turning to Ron with a warm smile. "So what seems to be the problem?"

"He's been limping," Ron shoves his hands into his pocket, trying his best not to look overly worried about an animal. For some strange reason, he wants Hermione to think he's a brave, cool man and not someone who cries before his pet pooch has a dodgy leg. "Around three weeks or so now. I've checked for cuts and stuff, but I haven't found anything, and I can't work out what's bothering him!"

"Alright, let us have a look, shall we, handsome?"

Once again, Ron thinks Hermione is talking about him, and he's about to start replying when he realises she's turned her attention back to the dog. Chudleigh is putty in her hands. She continues to coo at him as she examines him thoroughly. Ron tries to let the sight of the pretty vet calm him, but his stomach is still rolling uncomfortably.

"So, uh, are you new here?" He rubs at the back of his neck nervously.

"Yep. I've been here about six weeks now. I qualified in London about a year ago, but I decided to try a more rural village when I got a bit bored of the city. It's much easier to be friendly in a place like this!"

"Well, Ottery St. Catchpole is definitely more personable, that's for sure. Everyone knows everybody's business here. I'm surprised my mum hasn't already told me about you. She's one of the worst out of them all."

Hermione doesn't respond as she continues her examination. Eventually, she steps away from the table and snaps off her medical gloves, a frown furrowing her brow.

"What is it? It's bad, isn't it?" Ron gulps down the bile that threatens to surge from his belly. "He's an old dog, and I knew things would start going downhill for him soon. I just thought he'd have a few more good years ahead of him. Are you going to have to chop it off?"

"What? No!" Her frown dissolves into a warm smile as she glances over at Ron again. "How long have you had that air cast on?"

"This thing?" He gestures to the awful grey boot on his left leg. "I chipped a bone in my foot three and a half weeks ago when I was playing football. It's nothing major—they just wanted to stabilise it so I didn't make it worse. I'm a builder. I can't put my feet up for six weeks. I'd be bankrupt."

Ron isn't sure why he's continuing to babble. Just three weeks probably would have satisfied her question. But she's watching him with the same analytical look she used on Chudleigh, making Ron feel like she's examining him.

"Then I think I've found the cause of Chudleigh's limp." Hermione smiles and moves to her computer to type up her diagnosis. "See, dogs can sometimes form a close bond to their owners. Sometimes, they try to emulate them or mimic them, especially if they get more sympathy or attention. They can also pretend they're injured if they want to try and get their way. And Chudleigh is limping on the same leg that you've injured."

Ron blinks at his stupid dog. He's never known him to fake an injury before. In fact, he can't remember a time when he's even been in pain.

"That's all it is? The bloody dog is just trying to steal my attention from me? Bloody hell Chudders, all of that worry for nothing!" He lets out a shaky sigh of relief, then turns to Hermione. "How much is this going to cost me?"

Hermione swivels in her desk chair to face Ron, beaming at him. "I'd feel guilty about taking you hard-earned money for a fake injury. Don't worry about it."

He grins back, but then a sudden wave of guilt crashes over him. This is the woman's job; he can't get away with paying nothing. Inspiration hits him. The vet is lovely, and he wouldn't mind getting to know her a little bit better. It's been a while since Lavender and his multitudes of brothers are always encouraging him to get back out there.

He takes a deep breath, summoning all of his courage before blurting out, "Well, how about I buy you a coffee Saturday morning? If you're not working, that is. If Chudleigh is feeling better, then maybe we can go for a walk too?"

"A coffee?" Her cheeks burn bright red, and her eyes grow wide.

"Oh… sorry, of course. You're probably busy with a handsome boyfriend or work or something more important. I just thought that because you're new here, you might want to make some new friends or get to know the place…" he trails off, the creep of discomfort settling between them.

"No! That would be brilliant. I don't have work. Here, let me write down my number." She locates a notepad amongst the piles of books on her desk and tears off a page before scribbling her number down. As she passes it over, Ron notices the slight shake in her hand and smiles. She looks as nervous as he feels. It's not every day you ask someone out at the veterinary surgery.

"Great! Well, how about we meet at the small cafe in the centre of Stoat Park and go from there?"

"Sure. What time?"

"How about midday?" Ron asks with a smirk.

The blush is back on the vet's face, but this time it's joined by a coy smile. She meets Ron's gaze, and his heart almost stops. He can tell, just from that one look, that this woman is going to be trouble.

"Twelve sounds brilliant," she finally replies. "I'll try not to be late."

"You better not be," Ron threatens with a grin. "Or I might have to charge you for my time."

Hermione laughs. The sound is pleasing and sends a chill of pleasure down his spine. "See you Saturday, Ron and Chudleigh."

"See you Saturday."

Ron walks out of the treatment room, a massive smile on his face. He hears a familiar whine and realises that he's left the dog sitting on the examination table. Bugger. He heads back in, the tips of his ears burning hot.

"Come on, you idiot." Ron picks up the lead and pulls the dog off the table, giving Hermione one last wave before leaving quickly. Despite his faux pas, he resists the urge to skip as he leaves the practice, not that he'd be able to with his leg still in this stupid cast.

He can't wait for noon Saturday.