Chapter Text
ACHOO! achooachooachooACHOO! Ronald Weasley patted his pockets frantically in search of his last clean handkerchief. Finding it in the very last pocket he patted, he yanked it out as fast as he could and blew his nose. He very nearly wasn’t in time to prevent snot from dripping onto his upper lip. This is getting ridiculous , he thought. It’s only 1pm and I’m on my fifth handkerchief! Thank Merlin Hermione sent him a new packet for his birthday last month. The old ones were too threadbare to keep up with this year’s allergies: Scourgify works for a while but then they begin to wear out from all the charm work.
Hermione began this birthday tradition back when he was drafted for Keeper of the Ballycastle Bats. Ireland had one hell of an allergy season, and he needed all the help he could get to keep abreast of the issue. Spells and charms worked up to a point; he even tried some of her Muggle medicines. There was one medicine that shot straight up his nostrils and was bloody awful, but effective.
Coming back to England after spending four years with the Bats was good in the long run, but it too came with a re-balancing of his sinuses. It felt like his body had forgotten how to live in England. He thought things were finally even keeled now that he’d been home for three years, two of which he had spent here at Hogwarts. This year’s allergy season was shaping up to be the worst one yet.
Clouds of pollen dust could be seen drifting across the grounds, coating everything in its wake. Ronald felt he was using his magic these days mostly to clear the stuff off his work tools and off of door knobs. Nothing was safe to touch without a little compressed air spell cast on it first. And the flowers? Those buggers must have sent out a top level alert to all the bugs in the country that Hogwarts was the best place to get pollen. There wasn’t a bloom in sight that didn’t have at least one little bug on it, spreading pollen in the air for all to sneeze. Ronald was fairly certain that the pain he was enduring now was not worth the end results for the school’s gardens come Summer, but that was just his opinion apparently. Staff and students without allergies seemed to be enjoying the pollen haboobs and insect invasions. The Quidditch pitch was filled with students flying up above it all to watch Mother Nature do her work.
Ronald stopped sowing pumpkin seeds in the school gardens to take out all five used handkerchiefs and perform a robust Scourgify on them. Just as he was finishing up the charm he heard a familiar voice call out to him.
“Mr. Weasley, how do you fair today?” Firenze asked. It wasn’t uncommon for Firenze the centaur to come out of the forest and greet Ronald. Firenze was the liaison between Hogwarts and the herd in the Forbidden Forest after all.
“How many bloody times have I told you to just call me Ronald? Please mate, this whole ‘Mr. Weasley’ business keeps making me look around for my dad,” Ronald said sheepishly.
“It was Ron when you were a student here I believe. Why have you changed your given name to its formal version?” Firenze said stiffly.
The centaurs were hard for Ronald to get a read on when he first started working at Hogwarts, but over time he gained more confidence in differentiating their moods. Well, he became better at reading Firenze’s moods he supposed. He wasn’t sure what the others were like, they all stayed clear of wizards in general.
“It was Ron back then, you're right. When I quit playing Quidditch and was looking for the next big thing to do in my life I decided that I wanted to leave the ‘boy’ behind me and embrace the ‘man’. Calling myself Ronald was an easy way to do that —a daily reminder of the changes I’m making in my life. Dunno if I could ever be ‘Mr. Weasley’ though. I’m not that stuffy,” he finished with a grin on his face.
He wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead, and took a second to look over his companion. The centaur really did look amazing in the bright sunlight; his golden Palomino body glowed with the warmth of the sun and his white blonde hair seemed like a beacon of light. It was a warmer shade than Malfoy’s hair was, but no less bright for its warmth. As his eyes traveled up Firenze’s body, the sun was high in the sky and Firenze stood directly in its path. The sun rays hit Ronald’s sinuses and caused another sneezing fit, and he barely had time to turn his head away from Firenze, sneezing into his elbow. When he was done, he looked back and shrugged his shoulders heavily. “I’m sorry. It seems as though the outdoors is trying to kill me by means of pollen. It’s hitting me pretty hard this season.”
“You do not have a method for curing your allergic reaction?” Firenze inquired.
“We have some charms that work decent enough, and the Muggles have a few methods as well. I’ve tried them all over the years but nothing cures them. They might stave off the symptoms for a bit but that’s it. Why? Do you have a cure for allergies?”
“Centaurs have lived amongst the flora and fauna for more years than wizards have had wands. Many of our kind have a tolerance built over generations and we do not suffer such things. There are a few in every herd however that defy that generational tolerance, and so we have a method for curing such reactions.” Ronald could see that Firenze was building himself up for a lecture. Truth be told he didn’t mind the lectures for the most part; there was something intriguing about Firenze when he got into professor-mode. His posture opened up in a way that felt welcoming, like a person could ask the centaur anything and the male would be happy to answer them. His head took on this gentle little tilt that exposed his neck in just the right way too. That teasing little slice of his neck made its way into Ronald’s fantasies every now and again, leading to some of his strongest orgasms of his life. Do NOT think about that! He’s right in front of you! Ronald chastised himself harshly. He didn’t want to get hard right now; knowing the upfront way of the centaurs, Firenze would probably ask him why he was getting aroused.
“If it’s something that the centaurs would be willing to share, I would love to have a go at your method for curing allergies. Nothing else has worked long term.” Ronald stated.
He knew by now that you don’t ask the centaurs straight out for something; you ask them to consider something and then they’ll get back to you. It’s been quite the learning curve over the last two years, and Hagrid was a big help. “Treat’em like yer formal-yet-nice great uncle and you’ll be grand,” he said, and Hagrid was right. Don’t be afraid to ask but don’t presume to be best mates with them either was Ronald’s policy.
Oddly enough, Ronald understood a lot of Hagrid’s advice much better now that he was older. When he was a student he remembered thinking that Hagrid was mental half the time. Apparently he just needed to mature in order to understand him. A wave of sadness slipped over Ronald for a brief moment and then it passed. Hagrid’s retirement was much deserved, and Ronald was very happy for him of course. But there were times when he missed him. He spent a year shadowing Hagrid as per the requirements in the job application that was posted in the Daily Prophet. “The applicant who is chosen for the position will work for one (1) year as Rubeus Hagrid’s apprentice in order to learn the skills necessary to become the Keeper of Keys and Gamekeeper. Pay will be halved for that apprenticeship (plus room and board), and full salary will begin with the retirement of Mr. Hagrid.”
Firenze hesitated, which Ronald took to mean he was going to say no. Firenze never hesitated; he was too confident for that sort of behavior. “It is not a matter of the centaurs withholding the cure, but rather a matter of the manner in which the cure is created. You do not want this cure, I do not think. It requires something which you are not accustomed to.” Firenze no longer met Ronald’s gaze, and his cheeks turned the barest shade of pink.
“Firenze, I want you to understand something so please look at me,” Ron waited until Firenze looked him in the eyes again then continued. “I am the Keeper of Keys and the Gamekeeper for Hogwarts. My entire job is accomplished
outside
. The irony of this situation is not lost on me. I will do
anything
to be rid of these allergies,” Ronald said with as much confidence as he could muster. How bad could this magical cure be?