A/N: originally published on Tumblr in Apr 2021
Seriously mate, I need your help. I need you to run interference.
Ron stared at his phone, cursing the damn three dots as he waited in agony for Harry's response.
Alright fine, be there soon. You owe me.
Ron breathed a sigh and settled into his chair, surveying his surroundings. He was in a dingy, crowded pub on a Friday, enjoying an after-work happy hour with colleagues. Friday drinks had become somewhat of a tradition around his office, thanks in no small part, surprisingly, to him.
The first week, it'd been organized by this annoying woman, Pansy, who worked in Sales. Ron had attended somewhat begrudgingly, intending to have a pint to show face and then making an excuse to leave as soon as he could. What he'd been surprised to find, in addition to the awkward small talk of coworkers, was his first look at the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.
Her name was Hermione, and she was a lawyer at an office across the street from his design firm. She'd been invited by one of his colleagues, Ernie, and once she'd walked in the door, Ron knew he was done for. She had gorgeous, dark, tightly coiled curls and amber eyes that shone like nectar, but what he liked most about her was her demeanor. She was confident, strong, and outspoken, traits all the more amplified by her petite frame. She was always dressed in business-casual, spoke her opinions with assurance, was witty and sarcastic…Ron had to have more of her. He'd been a loyal attendee of Friday happy hours ever since.
Unfortunately, it'd become apparent to him that Ernie had a big thing for Hermione. The idiot blathered on self-importantly when she was around, and while Hermione always treated him with the utmost politeness, Ron was sure he could tell, perhaps a bit optimistically, that she wasn't into him. Ernie must have thought he stood a chance though, because Ron had been trying for weeks to get her alone with no success. He just wanted a few minutes to talk to her without Ernie around, prattling on about his designs or his pompous father's company. The bloke never even left for a bathroom break.
So, he'd texted Harry for help. It was later in the evening, and Ron knew his window was closing before everyone would leave. He sat with Hermione and Ernie, listening to her enthusiastic speech about human rights and admiring how animated her eyes became when she was just the right balance of tipsy and passionate. Ernie hung on her every word, pounding the table every now and then for good measure. It was all Ron could do not to strangle him.
Turning his head to check the door for the fiftieth time, Ron leapt from his chair. "Harry, you made it!"
"Of course," Harry said, shaking Ron's hand and pulling up a seat.
Ron offered him the beer he'd had ready, then introduced him to Hermione and Ernie. Harry drank from his pint glass, then took a deep breath. "So Ernie," he began. "Ron tells me you're decent at cornhole."
"Oh yes," Ernie agreed. "I've won many tournaments, though you don't see people playing nearly as much these days, especially not to the international standards set by-"
"Wanna play?" Harry asked, shooting Ron an exasperated face and throwing back the rest of his drink. Ron choked on a smile and waved at a passing server to get a refill for Harry.
If he managed to extract Ernie from Hermione's side, Ron would buy Harry as many beers as he wanted.
"Oh," Ernie's gaze flicked back and forth between Hermione and Ron. "I don't know, maybe later."
"Just as well." Harry accepted his refill from the server and leaned back in his seat. "I'm pretty good. Wouldn't want to embarrass you." His grin was nothing short of cocky, and it was enough to drive Ernie out of his chair.
"Alright," he huffed. "Just one game."
Ron beamed with absolute delight as Ernie finally walked away from the table. He shot a thankful look at Harry, who saluted him. Giddy, Ron tried to keep calm as he turned his attention to Hermione. She'd pulled her hair into a messy bun, and was fiddling absently with the straw in her mixed drink.
"Oh," she exclaimed, smiling at him. "Didn't you say you have a dog?"
"Yeah, Chudley. He's a mix; I rescued him a couple years ago."
"Aw," she cooed. "How sweet."
"He really is," Ron beamed. "What about you, do you have any pets?"
She nodded happily. "Yes, a cat. His name is Crookshanks."
"Do you have a photo?"
She beamed and pulled out her phone, and they spent several minutes praising each other's animals. Ron watched the softness of her features out of the corner of his eye, pleased to find she was a pet person, even if he privately thought her cat had a rather squashed face.
"So listen," he kept his phone in his hand and willed his voice to be casual. "Maybe I could help you with cat sitting, or something, sometime?" He inwardly groaned as she raised an eyebrow at him, though her lips curled.
"Okay," she agreed. "Yeah, that'd be helpful. It's hard to find someone to watch him when I have to travel for work, and boarding is so expensive." She sipped the last of her drink. "I could- ah- help you too. With Chudley."
He nodded, ignoring the wild heart beat in his chest. He forced himself to ask her the burning question. "Could I get your number, then? You know, for the pets."
She studied him for a moment, biting her lip, then her face slipped into a grin and she tugged his phone from his hands. "Alright."
Ron did cartwheels in his mind, fireworks exploding in the background, but aloud he just said, "wicked."
He owed Harry so big. He would buy him a case. Or two.
And if Hermione thought he wasn't going to text her tomorrow about anything he could think of, pet related or not, she had another think coming.