Reserve League: S1, R12 (OTPs), Beater 1 (your OTP discovering something new), [optional prompts: (dialogue) "Keep looking at me like that, I dare you.", (concept) a blessing in disguise]

For Quidditch supplies: (creature) cat

WC. 1468

WARNING: this story contains discussion of pregnancy and implied infertility

Learning to Love Your Ankle-Biting Fur Demon

That bloody cat.

It was the bane of Ron's existence; a nuisance, annoying, and constantly getting in the way. Even when he stumbled to the bathroom in the mornings, bleary-eyed and still half asleep, the stupid thing would be there, slinking in and out of his legs, standing exactly where he was going to take his next step. On more than one occasion, he'd almost fallen over, tripped down the stairs, and broken a leg.

"Stupid animal," he scowled, dodging Hermione's ginger beast as he made his way into the kitchen. "Keep looking at me like that, I dare you." He reached the kitchen to find Hermione already there. "Hermione, I swear, I love having you here, but your damned cat…"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed, "he's just after some attention." She smiled as Crookshanks jumped into his lap the moment he sat at the table. "He likes you."

"Since when?" Ron said, pushing Crookshanks off. "He's never been a fan of me."

Hermione's smile widened. "Since he's realised I like you," she said.

"That reminds me," Ron continued, pushing Crookshanks off once more, "must he sleep on top of me at night? I like it when you're there, but three's a crowd."

"Well," Hermione said, looking down at her breakfast, "you'll just have to get used to it."

…

Stupid cat.

How old was he anyway? Surely cats didn't live this long, but Ron was sure that Crookshanks was determined to haunt him for the rest of both their lives.

He'd tried to convince Hermione that when they moved in together, that perhaps they could get their own pet. One that was for both of them. But she wasn't having it.

Now all the dumb thing did was hover around, meowing and asking for food, brushing up against Ron's leg, and sleeping beside him. Every. Single. Night. No matter how many times he'd push him off the bed, two minutes later he'd feel the weight against his back again. Then he couldn't even roll over.

…

Fine.

It was the word Ron had become accustomed to saying when Crookshanks was involved. Fine, you can play with that scrunched up paper.

Fine, you can eat my leftovers.

And his least favourite of all, Fine, you can sleep next to me. He'd given up trying to force Crookshanks off the bed a while back. He simply refused to listen. Hermione insisted it was because he liked Ron. Ron was certain it was because Crookshanks' life mission was to make him miserable.

One night, he rolled over in bed, determined to get himself comfortable, only to find himself face-to-face with a big, orange furball.

"Bloody cat," he growled, but he didn't push him off. It was a cold night, and the warmth against his body was rather comforting. He found himself sleeping better that night.

…

Four years.

That was how long it had been until Ron gave into putting food in the bowl. Every day, he'd been hounded, meowed at, jumped on and scratched. And every single time, he'd fought back, been stubborn and refused.

So, he had no idea what possessed him to do it that night.

"Don't make a habit of this," he said, placing the bowl of food on the ground, "because I'm only doing it because Hermione isn't here, alright?" She and Ginny had gone out for a 'girl's night', and Ron had just returned from spending the evening with Harry. "She'd murder me if she thought I didn't feed you. I love her, yeah."

He doubted Crookshanks was even listening, his head in the bowl and gulping away at the food. Ron had probably over fed him, but a once off wouldn't hurt. Crookshanks would be grateful, at least.

He found himself smiling as he watched Hermione's cat eat.

…

Lost.

"What do you mean, he's lost?"

"Crookshanks," Hermione said. "He hasn't come home in three days."

Ron wasn't sure why he got a sinking feeling in his chest when Hermione told him, but it was what happened. "Surely… he's just out hunting, or something?" he tried to reason.

"Well, I would have thought so," Hermione said, sounding worried, "but he usually makes his way home after a day or two."

Ron moved to the front door of their home and opened the door. Sometimes, he saw Crookshanks stalking down the street, tail flicking and hissing at passers by. But that wasn't the case.

"We could go looking for him?" he suggested to Hermione. "You know, see if he's around somewhere?"

Hermione nodded. "I think that would be for the best. Oh, I hope he's okay."

Ron placed an arm across her shoulders and squeezed her. "I'm sure he's fine," he said, though even he had to admit that it was odd for him to be away for so long. "But I hope he's okay too."

…

Snuggling.

Ron had to admit that late at night, when he was trying to get paperwork done, having Crookshanks curled up beside him was a great comfort. It was tedious work, being an Auror, and had him often up late into the night just to get things done.

Setting down his quill for a brief moment, he ran his fingers through the matted ginger fur. Crookshanks was definitely showing his age now, choosing not to stray too far from the couch, unless it was for a bathroom stop or for a meal. He rarely escaped outside to hunt anymore.

"You're not so bad, are you?" he murmured, feeling the vibrating purs against his fingers. "You're good company, in fact."

He had to admit it to himself now. He'd grown quite fond of the cat that once upon a time ago, had irritated him to no end. On the odd night Crookshanks chose to sleep elsewhere, he missed the warmth beside him, or the tickling fur against his leg under the covers. He liked Crookshanks so much now that whenever Hermione expressed concern about his deteriorating health, he felt only sadness.

"Ron."

"Hey, you should be in bed," Ron said, shifting slightly so that Hermione could join him on the couch. "I'll be up soon."

"I couldn't sleep," Hermione said.

"I'll be up soon," Ron repeated, but she shook her head. Her eyes drifted to Ron's hand on Crookshanks, absently stroking his fur. She smiled. "I knew you'd come to get along."

"Yeah," Ron sighed. "He's alright… for a cat."

"Ron…"

It was only then that he realised she was up because she wished to tell him something. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, smiling. She once again looked at Crookshanks curled up beside him and her smile widened. "Ron, how would you feel if we… added to our family?"

Ron followed her gaze to Crookshanks, and then looked back at her. "I suppose that would be alright. You want another cat? What about a dog? We have a yard for it. But really, you couldn't wait to tell me this in the morning?"

She laughed, her eyes glistening with tears. "I don't mean an animal, Ron. I mean… a baby."

Ron's hand froze mid stroke. He stared at her. They'd been wanting a baby for a while, but they'd not had much luck yet. "I thought we had already decided that that was a plan for the future," he said after a moment.

"How about the present?" Hermione asked, and this time Ron took his hand completely away from Crookshanks and sat up straighter.

"I'm starting to get the feeling you're trying to tell me we're having a baby in a really long, roundabout way," he said to her. "Why not just tell me yes or no?"

Hermione smiled. "It's fun making you guess. But, yes, we are having a baby, Ron."

Rather than doing what the normal thing might have been to do, and kiss and hug his wife, Ron jumped to his feet, picked up a dozing Crookshanks and spun him around. The cat meowed and tried to flee his arms, but Ron then hugged him close to his chest.

Then, finally, he grabbed Hermione and really did kiss her as well.

"So, I take it you're happy?" Hermione asked, watching her poor cat as Ron finally let him go. He took off to the kitchen.

"Of course!" Ron said. "We've been waiting for ages for this." He hugged her and kissed her again, and then Vanished his paperwork. "That can wait another day."

They were about to both head up to bed when Crookshanks came slinking back into the room. He eyed Ron suspiciously, but still allowed Ron to pick him up. "Come on, Crookshanks," he said brightly. "You can sleep right between us tonight, if you'd like. I won't even mind."

And that was exactly where Crookshanks slept, keeping both of them warm and happy.

Thank you to Shay (belle parol) for beta-ing this for me, and Autumn (insertcleverandwittytitlehere) for the fantastic suggestion of a title. I love it!