“Well done, Ron!” George said, surprising everyone. “I didn’t have you down as a matchmaker.”

Ron squinted at him. He was tossing a dungbomb up and down and might well be building up to a joke. Maybe some muggle matchsticks were about to appear.

“Yeah, who’d’ve thought Abe would go for anything other than a goat in his old age,” Fred said disparagingly. He had been in a foul mood after someone tipped McGonagall off about the puking pastilles he’d been flogging outside her classroom.

“Cheers,” Ron sighed, realizing he was too tired to care if he was being set up for a joke. He sank further into the comfy sofa by the fireplace. The Common Room was deserted at this time of night.

Ron had had a long day. It started when Malfoy cast a tripping jinx on him when he walked past Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet. The girls were arguing, and he’d attempted to walk past unnoticed. After the last quidditch game he had been avoiding anyone he could (a difficult task in a school with several hundred students), and particularly everyone on the team.

Katie was holding several books and Alicia, unfortunately, an opened bag of fizzing whizzbees.

Ron had gone down like a sack of Hagrid’s homemade Bath buns, taking his teammates, the books and most importantly the bees with him.

Not for nothing does every bag of fizzing whizzbees come with a warning on its etiquette. Most people aren’t stupid enough to rattle the bag, never mind slamming it into a several millennia old staircase with more built-in defence mechanisms than a manticore.

Malfoy was in tears, laughing, long after they’d stumbled into the Hospital Wing. Not that Ron heard much of the laughter, the girls were shouting, nay roaring about the allergic reactions manifesting from the stings, not to mention the holes in Alicia’s robes. Madam Pomfrey mended the broken ribs and sprained ankles (vicious, vicious stairs they’d been), but there was nothing to be done about Alicia’s robes.

Ron was mortified, particularly as Katie was hinting he buy Alicia new robes. Ron’s last knut had been spent on some Chudley Cannon orange keeper’s gloves that weren’t of the quality advertised and that he didn’t dare ask Hermione to mend for him anymore because she’d shown him the incantation and wand movement twice and he’d lied and said he got it.

“You owe Alicia!” Katie hissed. What Ron heard, of course, was “You owe us for your abysmal performance as Keeper!”.

“Look, I didn’t mean to,” he said, heat rising to his ears, “didn’t you see Malfoy? He was there, he jinxed me…” Ron’s voice died in his throat when the girls exchanged disbelieving looks. “Bollocks…” Looking around, Ron spotted a familiar statue. “Hey, has Fred and George ever taken you to Hogsmeade?”

There was a pause, then Alicia said: “What, on a date? Fred likes Angelina.”

“Yeah, and I don’t like…” Katie bit her lip.

“Yeah, I got it,” Alicia cut in, turning away from Ron who was barely listening, because he’d just had an idea, one that might just make them forgive him. Somewhat, at least.

“Good,” Katie said and kept chewing her lip.

“Bartender at the Hog’s Head lets you buy on credit,” Ron muttered. “I’m sure I’ve heard Fred say so.”

“I’ll tell him you aren’t interested,” Alicia said with a frown. “I never said you were, only that you’d enjoy a date. But if he’s not your type that’s fine.”

Katie didn’t answer, so Ron intervened: “How about you two celebrate a fun girl’s night out? I happen to know the fastest way to Hogsmeade, and I’ll get you the first drink.”

The girls hesitated. There was schoolwork, and curfew, and, of course –

“Quidditch practice isn’t until tomorrow,” Ron said enticingly. He took a step towards the witch’s statue. Katie and Alicia exchanged looks, then both shrugged and followed him.



“You told us you knew the fastest way to Hogsmeade, Ron!” Alicia groaned as they climbed and climbed, the steps never-ending. “With the ground we’ve covered, I bet we’ll come out near Newcastle.”

“Almost there,” Ron said cajolingly, worried the girls were about to give up and turn back. “Any second now and – ouch!” With a thump loud as an erumpent’s horn he hit the top of his head on a familiar wooden trapdoor.



The streetlights were yellow and the sky a deep purple. Ron pressed on, the fact that they hadn’t been caught yet emboldening him. The sign with the severed hog’s head looked almost stylish in this light.

Ron remembered to open the door for the girls, but just as he’d entered himself there was trouble. Trouble takes on the strangest appearance sometimes.

“Students!” Professor Trelawney slurred, dropping her sherry bottle, “out of bed!”

“Again,” the old, bearded bartender muttered, his tone of voice making Ron suspect this was a frequent occurrence.

Ron did what he increasingly did and thought: what would Harry do?

“Professor! I – er, I wanted to ask you about Venus.”

“Unlikely,” Trelawney slurred, but what she next said was interrupted by her own giggles and Ron didn’t catch the joke.

“I was doing my monthly star chart when I remembered you saying that the unusual angle of Venus to Earth might affect some charts in unpredictable ways.”

Trelawney set her bottle down firmly next to an unused sherry glass. “That, Weasley, was Uranus. Besides, I don’t think you will ever need to worry about the angle of Venus.”

“Who’s to say?” the bartender interrupted. He had a gruff voice that sounded like it didn’t get much use. “More unexpected things have happened than a ginger finding love, eh Sybill?”

Ron managed to put his insecurities momentarily aside to goggle at the redness spreading unbecomingly over Trelawney’s sunken, blotchy cheeks.

“That was a mistake, Abe, and it’s been years…”

“Yet I keep finding you in front of my bar like a bad knut.”

“Venus never figures in my charts,” Trelawney continued with renewed decisiveness. “I’ve come to accept it; the stars have gifted my life in other ways…”

“Keep telling yourself that,” the bartender muttered. He had been cleaning glasses with an old rag and when he put one back on the bar, he did it with so much force it broke.

“Blimey,” Ron mumbled, struggling with what to say or do. The bartender stared at his bleeding hand and the shards on the bar without moving. Trelawney crouched on her barstool, glugging sherry straight from the bottle, eerily reminiscent of something small and helpless seeking comfort.

And the girls, well… Ron looked around the room twice before he spotted them. His heart sank, because they were sat together whispering heatedly, their faces almost touching. He felt responsible, maybe if he’d performed better on the pitch his teammates would still get along.

“Hang on, I’ll help.” Ron drew his wand. The bartender didn’t react. There was blood dripping steadily onto his dishrag.

“Reparo!” Ron said, making sure he wasn’t doing any unnecessary hand movements. There had been an unfortunate incident when he tried to repair Lavender Brown’s quill case. They still hadn’t found it, and Lavender gave him dirty looks every time she saw him.

The bartender didn’t thank him, but Ron was so pleased it had worked he didn’t much mind. The bartender lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked on the wound. Ron grimaced and turned away; it was more than just the dishrag that was filthy around here. Trelawney had finally relinquished her bottle.

This was it, Ron thought. She had worked through his misdirection and now she would let him know how much detention he was in for. How much detention his actions had gotten Katie and Alicia into.

“When is the last time you’ve actually seen the night sky?”

Ron jumped, he’d not expected the bartender to speak, nor for him to use that tone of voice. A voice that sounded almost… tender?

Trelawney didn’t reply, but her eyes, huge behind her glasses, were looking right at the bartender.

“I liked it when you stayed here,” the bartender continued. “Before he gave you that godforsaken job in the castle. I’ve never forgotten that summer. We used to take the goats and go up on the mountain together and watch the stars. Do you even remember?”

The silence was killing them all, Ron thought. He was acutely aware of an itch on his nose, but he couldn’t move, he wouldn’t be able to, not before Trelawney –

“I remember!” her voice croaked out. “I thought you’d… All these years I’ve been coming back here, hoping you’d…”

“I thought you’d forgotten me,” the bartender thundered, suddenly on the move, brusquely pushing Ron to the side. “Everyone who meets him always forgets me.” Two long steps and he was in front of Trelawney, holding out his hands to her. Ron watched Trelawney reach for them, trembling so much the dozens of bangles adorning her bony arms clinked and jangled. He pulled her to her feet.

“You, Ginger! Tend the bar for me while I’m gone, will yeh?” the bartender shouted before the door slammed shut behind them.

Ron stared in wonder as he scratched his nose.

“Right,” he said eventually, “right girls, I doubt he’ll mind if we have a drink on the house.”

Turning around Ron was hoping to share a laugh with Katie and Alicia, he felt what they had just witnessed merited a truce no matter what had caused the previous tensions. What he wasn’t expecting was to find the girls mid-kiss.

“Bloody hell!”

“Oh no!” Alicia looked horrified and Katie rather triumphant, like a long-made plan had finally come into fruition. “Please, Ron, you can’t tell your brother!”

“Why’d he care?” Ron asked flabbergastedly, “he’s happy with Angelina, isn’t he?”

“This is your mess,” Katie said smugly to Alicia. “I’ve shown no interest, you see now why I didn’t want you to talk to him about me?”

“Would you… would you walk back to the castle with me? I need to speak to him, explain the situation…” Alicia looked so confused Ron was quite certain she didn’t know what the situation was. He certainly didn’t, but before he could ask, the girls were moving towards the door.

“See you at practice, Ron!” Katie shouted over her shoulder. She had the biggest smile on her face.

“Wait,” Ron said half-heartedly. They weren’t listening. Katie took Alicia’s hand and then they were gone. Sighing, Ron looked around the deserted bar. No customers, and he was feeling dead on his feet. Was he less likely to get into trouble if he stayed or if he left? He couldn’t believe Trelawney had forgotten to give him detention. But what, if anything, would happen if they came back and found Ron had left the place unattended?

The door burst open, and a disheveled-looking wizard entered. Sighing, Ron stepped in behind the bar.



It wasn’t until the wee hours that Ron returned, but he was feeling rather pleased with himself. Trelawney, when she finally reappeared, had decided to stay at the Hog’s Head. And the bartender had let Ron keep the tips he’d made. No detention either, talk about lucky.

“Talk about getting the wrong end of the stick,” Fred said to George. He looked the least tired out of the three of them. Ron would fall asleep in the common room sofa if he didn’t soon get up.

George grimaced and tossed the dungbomb he’d been playing with at the sofa Fred was in, but he did it so lightly it didn’t explode. Just then there was a rustle behind them, and Hermione came in through the portrait hole. She was looking feverish and quite unlike herself.

“I can’t find him!” she said, her voice breathless and panicked.

“Have you looked in the Transfiguration corridor?” Fred said. “I heard he might be hiding inside McGonagall’s office.”

“There was no reply when I knocked.”

“Why in Merlin’s name are you barging down McGonagall’s door at five in the morning?” Ron asked. He did not like the look on Fred’s face. “Were you asking for a detention?”

“Some things are more important than risking a detention, Ron!” Hermione said.

“For some, maybe, but surely not for you?”

“Love, Ron, love! I’m in love with Cormac McLaggen!”

Ron spluttered and felt his ears going red again. It felt like someone, probably McLaggen, had kicked him in the stomach.

“Ah but Hermione, Ron has developed a new skill since you last saw him,” Fred said evilly. “He’s making a name for himself as a matchmaker. Bet you anything he can bring you and lovely Cormac together.”

Hermione turned expectantly to Ron. Her eyes were brimful of emotion. She’d never looked at him like that.

It was the best and the worst feeling he’d ever experienced. Better than seeing his father alive in the hospital bed. Worse than a resounding chorus of Weasley is our King.

Just as he was about to tell Hermione that he of course would do anything in his newfound power to help her, George intervened.

“I think you’ve punished her enough Fred, where’s the antidote?”

“I got detention because of her ratting me out to McGonagall!”

“Yeah, but this isn’t proportionate,” George said.

“What’ve you given her?” Ron hissed; all tiredness gone.

“Just a fancy-you-fancy. It’s not quite ready for the wider public.”

“For one, the effect’s not supposed to last seven hours,” George said, blocking Ron’s way as he tried to get to Fred. “A wonder Hermione didn’t run into a teacher, but we have to respect good luck, Fred, some people have it.”

“Fine. Here you go, Hermione, this’ll help you find your darling Cormac.”

Ron watched over George’s shoulder how Hermione took the sweet from Fred and ate it. There was a pause, then her eyes grew wide with horror.

“Darling Cormac!? How dare you poison me!”

“How does the fancy work, exactly?” Ron asked quietly of George. They had turned to watch Hermione pelting Fred with a sofa cushion.

“Fred added a hair from McLaggen’s head to it,” George said with a surprising amount of kindness in his voice. “That’s why she took a fancy to him.”

Ron could feel his pulse returning to normal.

“I’m sorry about Katie,” he said. “I suppose Alicia told you about… well. I never knew you liked her.”

“Neither did she,” George said with a grin. “Should’ve talked to her myself. Could’ve avoided so much awkwardness. But I reckon Alicia and Katie will want to thank you. Apparently, this has been brewing for a while, but Katie was like me and didn’t dare to make a move. Until tonight when she got help from the matchmaker.”

“I really didn’t do much,” Ron said awkwardly. “Why didn’t you ask her yourself if that’s the way you felt?”

“Same reason as most have, I’d imagine. Didn’t want to ruin a good friendship.”

Ron nodded sadly and watched Hermione smash the dungbomb into Fred’s face.

 

Spoiler

I'm pretty sure whoever wrote this, they were giggling to themselves the whole fucking time. Were it me, I'd say this is what happens when you drink and write.

Anyway, I'll start with what I didn't like. The whole retrospective thing doesn't really fit the narrative, not maybe as a device, but in the execution, like how the beginning ties into anything, except maybe a clumsy opener to give up the topic you have chosen for this bit. The thing is a bit heavy on magical details, which normally I'd say fits with Ron's character, but here it maybe leans too heavy into making the whole thing a little silly. It is, as whole, I appreciate that, the pairing, the goats, the Alicia and Katie, even, in a way, and Hermione and Cormac.

But all that aside, it is somewhat amusing, and the long day is well rounded, especially with Ron watching Hermione at the end. I half expected one more dubious match to happen while Ron bartended, and was a bit disappointed my expectations were ahead of me.

Anyway, good stuff, and (I GUESS) thanks for writing. You, for sure, had fun.

 

Spoiler

Very open about your choice of prompt, aren't you?

Yeah, I dunno. I could dress it up nicely, but the humour doesn't really land. The narrative swerves without payoff, leaving every punchline to whiff and the plot to be kind of lame at best. You start us off with the prompt and that's... really all there is to this. Ron blunders through a day in his life accidentally matchmaking.

But at least Trelawney got some dick so I guess all's well that ends well?