Work Text:
Ron made a face.
“Don’t give me that,” Hector chided. “You’re the one who agreed to go undercover in the first place.”
“But that was before Robards told me I had to impersonate some Pureblood ponce.” Ron’s gaze turned to the mirror, his reflection changed under the various charms that turned his hair lighter and made his freckles less noticeable. A clever bit of Transfiguration from Hector had lowered his cheekbones, making his jaw appear heavier. With the thicker eyebrows and the new bump on his nose, Ron could hardly recognize himself, but he matched the picture in the mission file.
He pulled at the stiff collar of his new robes. They were too tight around his shoulders, and just another reminder of why he preferred other types of fieldwork. Ron would rather chase Dark wizards in the abandoned underground tunnels in London than limply making polite conversations in a high society gala. At least with the former, he could comfortably do it in his boots and work robes.
But Sebastian Fawley, the man Ron was impersonating, was related to a branch of an old Wizarding family, the kind that kept their children away from Hogwarts and taught by private tutors and raised on the idea that they were morally superior to everyone else. He was a Death Eater sympathizer and known in several circles for his illegal trafficking of unicorn blood.
It had seemed so straight-forward: Act as Fawley during one of those secretive galas, learn the names of the buyers and the last supplier, and arrest them at whatever creepy place people converged to trade black market supplies. Except that Ron’s earlier practice run had ended in what Robards described as an utter disaster.
Hector leaned against Ron’s desk. He studied Ron with a peculiar expression as he chewed on his lower lip in concentration. Ron stared at his friend’s face longer than expected. “Perhaps your tie…”
“What about it?” Ron looked down and saw the familiar knot from his school days. If it could get through McGonagall’s dress code inspections, then anything was possible. But there was a reason why he had asked Hector for his help. As far as First Year, Ron could recall Hector with his even collars and perfectly-knotted ties, the way he composed himself in class with his shoulders straight and never slouching, even during one of Binns’ long lectures.
After all, who better than to ask help from someone who was known as the Gentleman of Gryffindor?
Halley appeared from the over the top of her own cubicle. “Oooh, you look so weird as a blond.”
Ron turned his blue eyes on her, wide and innocent. “As my best friend, I’m sure you would love to take my place—”
Halley snorted. “Where’s the fun in that?” She disappeared back inside her cubicle.
Hector rolled his eyes. Ron sighed. The chances of getting Halley dressed in something glittery and expensive were just as likely as Chudley making it to the quarter-finals. It was common knowledge about how the Girl-Who-Lived was the most comfortable in her boyfriend’s Quidditch jersey and a Weasley jumper.
“My tie?” Ron asked Hector again.
“Yes.” Hector smoothed some of his wild curls away from his face. He mumbled something under his breath and pushed himself off Ron’s desk. “I think the Hanover Knot will help. Your collar is wide enough to pull it off.”
“These things have names?”
“And some have personalities,” Hector said dryly. He undid the tie, his fingers flying as he twisted and pulled and tucked the black silk into something presentable. For a moment, Ron was reminded of the Yule Ball with the frilly maroon robes and stepping on Halley’s feet as they danced, watching Hector with his hair unnaturally tamed and standing close to Viktor bloody Krum. The whole thing filled him with the same unnamed feeling.
Ron tried not to blush as Hector undid the first few buttons of the robes. He kept his eyes trained above Hector’s head, ignoring how fascinating it was to watch Hector be so competent at another task.
Clever Hector with his properly-knotted tie tight at his throat, Hector's light brown eyes sparkling with a new plan that would break at least ten school rules, Hector with his ink-stained fingers as he checked over Ron’s homework. Proper Hector, posh Hector with unexpected depths by breaking school rules and punching Draco Malfoy.
Ron sighed dreamily at the memory.
“Come now,” Hector murmured, his voice drawing Ron away. “You need to do more than dress like the part.” He patted Ron’s chest.
Ron stiffened under Hector’s touch.
“We’ll have to work on your table manners, the way you walk and hold conversations…” Hector trailed off and a worried line appeared on his forehead. “Merlin knows what else we need to cover before the mission starts. Yes, we’ll have our lessons after work today. You’ll come by the flat and I’ll help you practice.”
Ron heard Halley snickering in the next cubicle over.
“Practice?”
“And dancing!” Halley called out. "Can't forget dancing!"
Hector leveled him with a stern look. “I’ll make a proper gentleman out of you, Ronald Weasley.”
Ron wasn’t sure what expression he was making. “Shite.”