I have no idea how to explain this one, so I'm not even going to try. My brain just came up with it and I followed orders.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, this fic is (extremely loosely) based on the movie Ace Ventura: Pet Detective.

Also, even though I have never mentioned JKR before, I'd like to publicly state that I do not at all agree with her views.

Anyway, please enjoy this fic that is pretty much crack :)

oOo

Ron peered through the gap in the open curtain, his binoculars held firmly in place over his eyes as he attempted to make out the interior of the flat through the small window. From his vantage point atop the adjacent building, he scoured for any trace of evidence confirming that he had indeed reached the right location. Only when satisfied that he'd gathered sufficient evidence would he be able to proceed to stage two of his plan.

"Bingo," he muttered under his breath when he caught a brief glimpse of orange fur, the tip of a very fluffy tail pointed straight up into the air. Reaching into his pocket, he again studied the photograph he'd been given two days prior. In the photo, an orange squish-faced cat glared at the camera as if he wanted nothing less than to be bothered with posing for a picture.

Though Ron obviously adored all creatures (with the exception of spiders) the cat had to be the ugliest one he'd ever seen before. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why someone would go through such lengths to steal an animal so hideous.

"We're going in, Pig," he said to the rat that rested on his shoulder as he stuffed the picture back into his pocket. Pig, as usual, didn't respond, but nevertheless, he seemed to understand the seriousness of the words and held still as Ron stuffed his binoculars into his fanny-pack.

"Into the pack," Ron said after the binoculars were successfully stashed, "you know the rules."

At that, the rat obediently complied, scurrying down Ron's Hawaiian-themed shirt and into the fanny pack, which Ron promptly zipped up. Grabbing the medium-sized cardboard box that had been resting next to him, he headed down the external stairs of the building, whistling as he did so.

It was easy to get inside the correct establishment, and nobody asked questions as he confidently made his way to the elevator and pushed the button that would take him to the fifth floor. Leaving the elevator, it took Ron less than a minute to get to room 514, and he took a deep breath before reaching out and knocking on the door with his free hand.

When the door opened mere seconds later, Ron's eyes widened in surprise. Standing before him was a woman roughly his own age, though he'd been expecting the cat-napper to be much older based on what he'd heard about her. The woman regarded him, her gaze half curious, half annoyed.

"May I help you?"

"I, um..." Ron stammered, his usual suaveness deserting him entirely. It wasn't as if he typically lost his words around the opposite sex; quite the contrary. He usually had a silver tongue and could charm his way into a date acceptance within minutes. The predicament now, however, was that this woman wasn't at all what he'd been expecting and instead was quite pretty. From her bushy brown hair and large brown eyes, and her two front teeth that were slightly larger than the rest, giving her a unique charm.

"Is that box for me?" she asked, gesturing to the box in his hands when he failed to say anything else.

"Yes!" Ron replied in a loud voice, the abrupt sound causing both him and the woman to wince.

What was he doing? He was a professional pet detective for fuck's sake! He had an important job to do!

Forcing his eyes from the brunette's face, he pulled out his clipboard and handed it to her. "Yes," he answered in a calmer tone. "I need you to sign here, here" he pointed to several highlighted spots, "here, and here. Be sure to print your name clearly on the second and fourth lines please."

The woman arched an eyebrow, but sighed and started doing as asked. With the bushy-haired woman's attention diverted, Ron peered behind her into the flat, grinning as he saw his target perched right behind her legs.

Easy peasy.

Bending down, he was about to make a grab for the cat to stuff it into his shirt when the woman stuck her leg out and stopped him.

"He doesn't like strangers," she said. Ron looked up to see her staring down at him. "He might scratch you, and I'm sure neither of us want that," she went on, explaining herself.

He stood up. "Did he scratch you?" He looked down at the paper that she'd already finished signing her name on. "Herm- Hermi..?" He stopped, unsure of how to pronounce her name.

"Hermione," she said in a flat voice. "And no, he doesn't scratch me because I'm his owner and unlike you, he knows me."

"Are you sure about that?" he questioned, his eyes narrowed.

Now clearly annoyed, Hermione backed up. "Listen, I got my package, I signed your papers, I'm going to get back to my book so have a nice day."

Before the door was quite literally shut in his face, Ron swiftly kicked a foot out and prevented it from closing. "No need to pretend anymore, sweetheart," he said in a voice he hoped sounded domineering, "I'm not really delivering you a package, I'm here on a job."

"And what job would that be?" she snapped, obviously all out of patience.

God, she would be sexy as hell if she wasn't the type to steal animals from their loving homes.

"I'm a pet detective, and I'm here to take that," he pointed to the cat, who hadn't moved from his spot behind his fake owner's body, "cat back to his proper home. Where he belongs."

"What?" Hermione looked almost possessed by this point and Ron resisted the urge to groan. "This is my cat!" she shrieked, "I've had him since I was thirteen!"

"His real owner seems to differ." Ron pulled the photo from his pocket and thrust it out towards her. "She's a mess, and she misses him a lot."

Hermione took the photo from his hand, her eyes wide with astonishment. "This is my photo!" she exclaimed. "It was stolen from my desk at work three days ago!"

Ron frowned. "I find that highly improbable."

In response, she only glared at him, and before he could utter another word or take any further action, the door to her flat slammed shut with a resounding thud, followed by the sound of a lock clicking into place.

"You can't just take other people's pets!" he bellowed to the closed door, "Didn't your parents ever teach you that stealing was wrong?"

To his surprise, the door was yanked open seconds later, and something was shoved to his chest. "Look at this and then tell me he isn't my cat." Hermione was standing in front of Ron, her arms crossed over her chest and her nose held up defiantly.

After a huff of annoyance, Ron looked down at what she'd given him. In his arms was a medium-sized photo album. Flipping through the pages, he studied dozens of pictures of the orange cat in question. In the pictures, Hermione was depicted at various ages. There were pictures of her reading, the cat curled up on her lap, photos of her sleeping with him on the pillow next to her head, of her holding the cat's face up next to hers, the cat's displeasure clearly evident.

"I…it appears I was wrong," he admitted, "I do believe this is, indeed, your cat."

Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes. "No shit." She shifted. "The question is, who hired you to steal my cat?"

Ron opened and closed his mouth several times before speaking. "That's confidential. I don't-"

"Actually, there's no need for you to tell me," she interrupted, "I already know. Does the name Pansy Parkinson sound familiar?" Before he could deny it, Hermione continued. "We work together, her and I. A few weeks ago, both of us were in the running to be promoted. In the end, I got the job, and she was furious. Hiring you to steal my cat must be some kind of punishment for coming out ahead." She clenched her jaw, "But this is low, even for her."

Grimacing, Ron came to the disheartening realization that he had unintentionally been reduced to being used as a pawn in some sort of work feud, something he didn't like in the slightest. However, now he knew Hermione wasn't who he'd thought she was, he shot her a wide grin. "My apologies."

"The nerve of that woman," she went on, seemingly not hearing his apology, "hiring someone to steal my cat? What would she even have done with him? It's not like she likes animals! I've seen her sneer at the cat hair on my clothes on more than one occasion. And she's always making stupid comments behind my back at work, labeling me a crazy cat lady."

Ron couldn't help but smile; he found her rambling quite adorable. "She sounds dreadful," he said.

Hermione's eyes met his, and it was as if she suddenly remembered he was there. "You can't talk." She scowled at him. "You believed her when she said Crookshanks was hers."

"In my defense," Ron said, raising his hands in surrender, "She seemed believable when I spoke to her."

She scoffed. "She probably tried seducing you. Just like she does the guys at work."

Ron felt his neck get hot. The truth was, Pansy was undeniably attractive, and she had been more than a bit friendly towards him when she'd hired him. While he hadn't slept with her—he was a professional—he hadn't entirely dismissed the idea for the future, once his job was done and he had successfully returned her cat to her, of course.

Embarrassed for not being able to deny Hermione's accusations, he cleared his throat. "My apologies again, I really didn't know."

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, well…thank you for believing me."

"With this sort of evidence, how could I not?" Ron grinned as he handed the photo album back to her. "I am a detective, after all."

"Is that really your job?" she asked, looking skeptical. "You're a pet detective?"

"It's a side job," he admitted. "I have a full-time job, but I do this in my free time. To help people and pets alike, you know?" Ron explained. "It's actually pretty fun, and it's very rewarding… most of the time, anyway."

Hermione's eyes appeared to soften a bit, but she remained guarded. "Well, um-"

"Ron," he said, "My name's Ron."

"Thank you, Ron, but clearly, your pet detective services will not be needed here. I hope Pansy paid you beforehand, because you will obviously not be handing my cat over to that horrid woman."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, "And as far as payment goes, I charge fifty percent up front, and the other half after the animal is returned. So rest assured I did get some money out of her."

Hermione looked pleased. "Good."

"So…do you…" Ron peered into the flat behind her, trying not to make it obvious he was doing so. "Do you live here alone?"

Hermione stiffened, and Ron held his hands up again. "I'm not trying to be a creep, I swear," he said. "I was just wondering if you were with anyone. I want to take you out on a date sometime. In a way of apology." He winked at her. "Wherever you want. My treat."

"You just tried to kidnap my cat not even ten minutes ago!" Her face was incredulous. "Even though you were hired under false pretenses, first impressions are important, so forgive me if I'm not interested in going on a date with you."

"I was tricked!" he cried. "How was I supposed to know this was all because of some barmy work-feud?"

"I suppose you're right…" she trailed off, her bottom lip between her teeth. "And while I accept your apology, I'm going to once again turn down your invitation for a date."

His face fell. "So there is someone else?"

"No," she admitted, "I'm just not dating right now."

"Why not?" Ron realized his question was too personal and more than a bit rude, but the words had slipped out before he could help himself.

"I'm just not." She stepped back, her expression firm. "Good luck with your detective stuff, and have a good night." After one more tight smile in his direction, the door was once again shut in his face.

"Bloody fucking hell."