1) Ron whirls his head around to try and catch the eye of the person who said that, unsure if it was really addressed to him, but kind of confidant it was because he recognized the voice.
2) Ron slips down the small stairs, as they were rather icy and still had some snow left on them.
He lands slightly awkwardly and although the airâs been knocked out of him, he quickly can tell that nothingâs broken. Bruised, sure, but it could have been worse. Now Ron looks up at the person who spoke, recognizing Viktor Krum, the man he used to fanboy over for being a great Quidditch player.
Ron quickly scrambles to his feet and chuckles. âI appreciate your efforts, although they were in vain,â he says, brushing some snow off him. âItâs been a while, yeah? Howâve you been?â He tries to quickly segue away from that embarrassing fall.
abatina :  is there anything in life your muse has changed their mind about over time  (  due to becoming more educated on the topic ,  certain experiences ,  etc .  ) ,   or that they  would  change their mind about under certain circumstances ? Â
ron has definitely changed his mind (or is getting there) about the people he used to heavily dislike, such as draco malfoy, his friends, and his mother narcissa. heâs come to realize that the world isnât so black and white, people are complex, and he if others can move on, maybe he can too. this has just come from growing up, being in the wizarding world, and witnessing how draco protected him, hermione, and harry at malfoy manor, despite the risk to himself.
daffodil :  is your muse one to be loyal in relationships ,  or are they likely to quickly move from one bond to another ?
a resounding yes. if there is any reason that ron is a gryffindor, itâs because of his devout loyalty to his friends, his family, and the people he cares about. if someone were to break the bond he has with them, and they mean a lot to him, itâs going to take him a while to cope with that. although he got over lavender brown quickly because he became distant from her, moving on from his feelings about hermione was a whole other ordeal. ron feels and cares deeply, and his loyalty can withstand very, very strong tests. he will devote himself entirely, even if it may pose a risk to his own safety.
hibiscus :  how does your muse view the gentler ,  daintier things in life ?  as things worth preserving  &  caring for ,  or things only bound to wither  &  disappear ? Â
ron can sometimes miss details and the little things in life, as heâs often focussed on the big picture or issue at hand. however, he doesnât view the daintier things as being bound to either either or disappear. he doesnât really have an opinion and even then, it would depend on what it was. for example, if heâs going to buy flowers for a woman he wants to impress, he would take care of them. but if it were any other flower, ron wouldnât really pay attention/find meaning in it.
my ask box is open for both the botanical headcanons and more winter themed sentence starters for tonks and ron, so please make sure to specify who the prompt is for (if not, iâll just choose myself). i look forward to answering!
đ„đšđđđđąđšđ§: leaky cauldron.
đŹđđđđźđŹ: open to all ( @startertms ) !!
a day off was rare for paxton, but with the arrival of winterfest and the overarching theme of christmas, he opted for a day of annual leave to work through his deafening thoughts. to keep himself fresh and awake, he sits with his third cup of black coffee - he's sure he will be cut off any minute and will have to sneak off back home for an extra fix - in the corner of the leaky cauldron, a tattered book spread out in front of him on the table. the surface of the table is covered from clippings, letters and photographs pulled from the book. the pictures show a variety of people, from a young paxton and his mum to a girl with a toothless grin being lifted onto a teenage paxton's shoulders. his sister. the cause of all his current mental war. the pub was fairly quiet for midday, yet he spots a hand in the corner of his eye reaching for the chair opposite him and he looks up finally, flicking a hand lazily towards the seat. "take a seat."
the leaky cauldron had always held a special place in nymphadoraâs heart for the wix. an odd name for an oddly charming place, she considered it to be the heart of diagon ally, the key (literally and metaphorically) to unlocking all the magic of the wizarding world. there were a handful of open seats, so nymphadora knew that they didnât need to sit at a table that was already occupied, but something about paxton intrigued her. perhaps because he was a new face, or maybe it was that she figured that the scrapbook(?) looked rather sweet. perhaps sheâd pull out her old photo albums later and look through them with teddy. she knew that they had a handful of photos of remus, and teddy would love any opportunity to catch a glimpse of his father.
âthank you,â she said, sitting down with her tea and a pastry they had ordered. nymphadora leaned back in their chair, looking around the place. ânice day, isnât it?â
âIâm a Gryffindor, I have to be brave,â Ron joked as they headed towards the shop. He appreciated the gesture, though there was still stubbornness inside him, a want to not completely give up. âYou donât have to treat me . . . But I suppose I canât say no.â As they entered, he wandered near the collection of scarves, his hand ghosting over them. For a moment he almost reached towards the maroon one. He didnât like maroon, he never had, but it was always the color of his Christmas sweaters anyhow. No, now he could choose what he wanted. It was odd, how simple it was to decide on a color of a scarf, yet it still felt weird not to choose the maroon one. He opted for a dark blue instead, running it through his fingers, the material soft. He returned to his aunt and wrapped it around his neck. âHow do I look?â
clementine laughs, and tries to brush off the sad little pang in her chest that the words i have to be brave give her. Â Â â you're a grown man, you don't have to be anything. â Â Â she cajoles, reaching out to poke at his side as she says it. she ignores the urge to hit back with a i know, i want to, just letting ron come to his own conclusion that he can't say no with a satisfied nod. he does his own wanderings, absolutely adult enough to not be followed around the shop, thank merlin. it was perhaps a touch rude to admit to, but she did prefer her niblings to be fully functioning adults with their own minds and opinions. babies and toddlers were cute, no doubt about it, but it was lovely to have the option to hand them back to their parents. even lovelier to not need to. when he returns, she reaches out on instinct to straighten up the scarf, nodding all the while. Â Â â very nice, solid choice. the colour suits you. â Â Â
Ron blushed, a little embarrassed, as she fixed the scarf for him. It slightly reminded him of how his mother used to make sure the dirt was rubbed off his nose before heâd get on the Hogwarts Express. âThank you,â he said. He didnât see any other purpose to be in here besides getting the scarf, so he gently removed it and folded it up. Ron led the way towards the counter, telling the salesman that yes, the scarf was all he wanted and no, he wasnât going to be paying, his aunt would (even though he would pay because he could).
The salesmen went to put the scarf in a parcel, but Ron waved it away and said that heâd wear it out. It didnât exactly match his outfit, but the whole purpose was to get warm. This scarf was nice, definitely nicer than the hand-me-downs he got growing up. And it was all his.
location: outside of briggâs brooms in diagon ally, london
open starter, anyone is welcome to reply!
if anyone were to ask him why he was here, ron wouldnât be able to come up with an answer. heâd likely fumble over his words and his cheeks and ears would tinge red with embarrassment. he had no reason to shop for a new broomstick. it wasnât like flying was a hobby of his, and he hadnât played a proper quidditch game in ages. plus, he had his old broom stuffed in his closet at his flat. ron used to have harryâs as well, but he gave that back to his friend after he returned from the dead. still, he had been strolling down diagon allyâs streets, and seeing briggâs brooms brought back so many memories.
memories as a child, tagging along as charlie, then percy, then fred and george, and finally himself, got to go to diagon ally and pick up school supplies . . . heâd always run straight over to briggâs brooms, where he was standing now. heâd press his face and palms right up against the glance, his eyes comically wide as he observed the best, fastest new brooms on the market. for the rest of the year, heâd talk about it constantly, until the next visit where he saw the next broom. itâd been a simpler time . . . at least for him . . . until things with voldemort got really serious. now, everything was a mess. he was a mess.
ron was so deep into his thoughts that he didnât notice that there was another person heading his way until they bumped into his shoulder.
navigating through the streets of diagon always feels familiar, in the same way that trying on a sweater from the back of your closet is familiar ( and trust that heâd know a thing or two about sweaters; heâs got quite a lot of them ). the stonework buildings curl up and over him, casting shadows over his shoulders that shroud him as neatly as any sweater ever did. dragonhide boots beat against the cobblestone and it all just . . . fits. heÊ»s a frequent visitor for more professional purposes than anything, but even he canÊ»t resist the draw of having a look around to see the sights. he knows that his innate curiosity is a trait he comes by honestly. itâs the now years-old instinct to turn his head at any new scent that catches his fancy that he tries to surpress nowadays. that trait, at least, differentiates these recent trips from the flash memories of the trips of bygone years. this, at least, is different. bill had always felt like if he had to, he could pick his siblings in a crowd of millions, even blind and magicless. since the last war, thatÊ»s even been somewhat TRUE. itÊ»s made evident by him zeroing in on the general direction of his youngest brother the second he steps out of the bankÊ»s front doors. his shoulder bump is a warning more than anything before his hand comes up to clasp companionably at the nape of ronÊ»s neck. â your eyes get any bigger, ronnie boy, and i might consider replacing your christmas gift, â he teases, lightly shaking at his brotherÊ»s form, the one that has since grown to match his in height in a way that little siblings never should. â looking to up the competition at the next burrow luncheon ? â
his brotherâs presence made ronâs face lift up with a smile. it was familiar, comfortable, and nice to be here with him. he and bill hadnât always been close due to their large age gap, but ever since finding shelter with him and fleur during the war and his run-in with the snatchers, ron found himself looking towards bill more. for reassurance . . . guidance . . . big brother-type of stuff. so he relaxed now, the tension easing out of his shoulders.
âiâm not sure there will be much competition. ginny, yes, but the rest of you? youâre all a little too old now to be much of a threat to me,â ron teased. he and ginny were the youngest, which now meant that they were the only ones who hadnât passed their thirties yet, and ron considered that a victory over his brothers.
he eyed the direction of where bill had come from. the gringrotts bank with the dragon mounted on top was quite hard to miss, and the corners of ronâs lips quirked into a smile as he recalled something. âhey, did i ever tell you that hermione, harry, and i escaped gringrotts by riding away on the dragon? hermione thought of the idea . . . it was brilliant, but also insane.â he didnât like to talk about that time leading up to the war much, but with his brothers he felt like he could. especially bill, as he was the only one in the family who saw firsthand what it had been like ron for a portion of it.
location: department of magical law enforcement in the ministry of magic
Nymphadora sighed, slumping back in her chair as they looked at all the paperwork in front of herself. It was their own fault, sheâd chosen to stay late and get in some hours for over-time, but itâd still been a long day and she was getting weary. Teddy was off at a friendâs for a sleepover, so Nymphadora had no need to go home. They had no need to go anywhere, really, so why not stay at their job? A job she was supposed to love but ultimately only reminded her of the war and her husbandâs and fatherâs untimely deaths . . .
Still wanting to finish the paperwork but knowing that they couldnât concentrate, Nymphadora decided to take a little break. Almost everyone else on the floor had gone home already, so she was free to do whatever pleased her and right now, that was getting a cup of coffee.
Nymphadora strolled down the hall, towards the little bland kitchen, humming an old song to herself.
Ron started to nod his head, then stopped and sighed, letting his shoulders fall. âItâs a little cold,â he admitted, quietly. âBut Iâm okay, really. Itâs no biggie.â He smiled up at his aunt, a woman that he didnât see as often as he wouldâve liked. There was something always tense between him and his mother â although, that could very well be his insecurities getting in the way. But around Aunt Clementine, the air felt lighter. He could be more honest, like admitting that he was cold instead of denying it like he would in any other situation.
clementine's head tilted and eyebrow started to raise sharply as she spotted the nodding beginning, ready to poke at that assertion if ron had stuck to it. nothing could have prepared her, when joining this family, for the levels of stubbornness that lurked amongst the ranks. luckily, she was now much more practiced in fighting it. when he gave in and admitted to the frost she could pracitcally feel emanating off him, a smile brightened her face instead. â no need to be brave about it. â she scoffs, nodding towards one of the charity shops nearby. even from here, she could see a motley collection of scarves in the window display. â c'mon. my treat. â
âIâm a Gryffindor, I have to be brave,â Ron joked as they headed towards the shop. He appreciated the gesture, though there was still stubbornness inside him, a want to not completely give up. âYou donât have to treat me . . . But I suppose I canât say no.â As they entered, he wandered near the collection of scarves, his hand ghosting over them. For a moment he almost reached towards the maroon one. He didnât like maroon, he never had, but it was always the color of his Christmas sweaters anyhow. No, now he could choose what he wanted. It was odd, how simple it was to decide on a color of a scarf, yet it still felt weird not to choose the maroon one. He opted for a dark blue instead, running it through his fingers, the material soft. He returned to his aunt and wrapped it around his neck. âHow do I look?â
location: outside of briggâs brooms in diagon ally, london
open starter, anyone is welcome to reply!
if anyone were to ask him why he was here, ron wouldnât be able to come up with an answer. heâd likely fumble over his words and his cheeks and ears would tinge red with embarrassment. he had no reason to shop for a new broomstick. it wasnât like flying was a hobby of his, and he hadnât played a proper quidditch game in ages. plus, he had his old broom stuffed in his closet at his flat. ron used to have harryâs as well, but he gave that back to his friend after he returned from the dead. still, he had been strolling down diagon allyâs streets, and seeing briggâs brooms brought back so many memories.
memories as a child, tagging along as charlie, then percy, then fred and george, and finally himself, got to go to diagon ally and pick up school supplies . . . heâd always run straight over to briggâs brooms, where he was standing now. heâd press his face and palms right up against the glance, his eyes comically wide as he observed the best, fastest new brooms on the market. for the rest of the year, heâd talk about it constantly, until the next visit where he saw the next broom. itâd been a simpler time . . . at least for him . . . until things with voldemort got really serious. now, everything was a mess. he was a mess.
ron was so deep into his thoughts that he didnât notice that there was another person heading his way until the bumped into his shoulder.
a cough bubbles up from his chest, a sharp pain stretching across the expanse of his back as a hand comes up to hide the twinge of features pinched in hurt. winter was his least favourite seasons, often flaring up the pains and sickness that had cursed him from the moment he entered this world. what an unlucky fella! shaking his head free of the heavy feeling in his head, oggy reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a small vial of dandelion yellow colour, the consistency similar to thick porridge, before downing the lot, a dissatisfied purse of his lips clear that the taste was less than amiable.
after setting up the few posessions he brought over from copenhagen in his new flat, oggy came out to explore the place he hadn't seen in over twelve years. perhaps lost in his own memories of being escorted from shop-to-shop with a stick in one hand and the other being gripped almost painfully by his mum, memories of him and his sisters sneaking off down knockturn alley to witness shady dealings and get chased off by some dark wizard he had seen his dad talking to not too long ago. in his own daze, shoulders collide.
"ah fuck. sorry there, mate - didn't see you there." though he had wished that his accent would have changed even the slightest after spending a decade over in denmark, his words are still twinged with that camden flair. following the other's gaze, an amused smile forms. "ah, you lookin' to fly in this weather? braver than me."
ron rocked to the side momentarily as augustus collided with his shoulder. itâd leave a small bruise, nothing more, so ron shrugged it off â literally and figuratively. he glanced back at the window of the shop, letting out something between a scoff and a chuckle at the manâs words. âyears ago, maybe, when i was a keeper at hogwarts,â he replied, thinking of his âglory daysâ. those matches when he was up in the air, defending the hoops and being praised as weasley is our king was chanted . . . he hadnât been happy like that in a long time.
âi donât have use for a broom anymore. i guess i was just thinking, yâknow, about old times. âsides, like you said, itâs way too cold out,â he added, rubbing his palms together for warmth. âunfortunately, that coldâs not going away anytime soon.â it would last through december, then to january and february . . . ron sighed. after the holidays, there was nothing special about the wintertime. it was just cold.
âflyingâs not your thing?â ron asked, purely for conversationâs sake. it wasnât like he had anything better to do. the man looked slightly familiar . . . maybe they had crossed passed at hogwarts briefly in ronâs early years? he wasnât too sure.
These days, It wasnât extremely often that Nymphadora found herself in the muggle world. Still, they had grown up with a muggle-born father and muggle grandparents, so it wasnât like they were unfamiliar with it either. When Teddy was of age, she enrolled him in a muggle primary school, one heâd soon be leaving when he turned eleven. Now, she sat on a bench outside an outdoor ice skating rink, watching her son skate to his heartâs content. Nymphadora was bundled up in a purple, puffy coat with gloves and a scarf on. Still, the tip of her nose was freezing.
At the voice, they looked over and spotted none other than Dudley Dursley. Although they hadnât met the man before, she knew of him. Everyone did â he was Harry Potterâs cousin. Nymphadora had also heard the rumors of how he and his parents had treated Harry, but they still opted to take a polite approach.
âYes, it is. Not too loud, as everyoneâs focused on not falling on their butts. And the snow is pretty, too,â she commented in agreement, eyeing how the snow fell perfectly on all the trees. Nymphadora had to admit that this was a little odd, though. She wasnât sure whether or not to tell him that she was among the group who had broken into his family home to rescue Harry during his fifth year.
All Damien could focus on was the gentle tapping of his fingers on the bookshelf. He was looking for a book in particular, one for research, yet he completely forgot it. Physically he was there, mentally he was a million miles away. His eyes had a thousand yard stare until he managed to feel the presence of someone around him.
"Don't bother." He says after collecting himself. "It's all shit picks here, anyway."
Ron wasnât exactly sure what he was doing here if he were being honest. Needing to get out of his dreary-looking flat, he had decided to entertain himself so far by going into town and visiting all the shops and stores. He had wandered in here as it was his next stop down the street â plus, it also reminded him a bit of his days at Hogwarts, when he, Harry, and Hermione would camp out in the library to research or study. Hermione always had to drag him there, he remembered. Heâd always avoid the library if possible.
So to hear this voice as he shuffled around, hardly paying attention to the titles of the books he was looking at, made him chuckle. âCouldâve used that tip before I walked in here,â he joked half-heartedly to the stranger. Ron knew that he probably wasnât going to pick up a book here anyway, he wasnât a reader, but it was still something to do.
"Right, well I wish there was a sign on the door." Damien plays along with the joke, but he doesn't quite care. He genuinely begins to look at the books around him and stifles a bit of chuckle. They actually were shit picks once he actually looked at them. He shook his head. "Better one down the street."
âReally?â Ron asked, his eyebrows raising in interest. He glanced at the door, then back at the shelves. He had never been an avid reader, but finding an interesting book was something to do, still reminded him of his friends . . . Of Hogwarts. âWould you mind showing me the way, if youâre heading there? I donât think Iâm familiar with it.â The guy seemed nice enough. He also didnât seem to recognize Ron off the bat, which was a nice refresher.
â want some hot chocolate? â for tonks ( from ginny ) !
starter for meme night !
Nymphadora smiled, happily taking the mug from the young woman. It warmed their cold hands and they readily sipped at the beverage, getting a bit of whipped cream on her upper lip. âThank you, hon. I appreciate it,â they said, momentarily changing their hair color to manage the infamous Weasley red hair. âItâs quite delicious. You know, my dad always used to make me hot chocolate during bad snow storms. Iâm pretty sure he just wanted to make sure I didnât throw a fit at not being allowed to play outside.â She chuckled at the memory. Especially around the holidays, Nymphadora missed their father dearly, and was proud to pass his name along to their son. He was the absolute light of her life.
when the weather is chilly, tonks will wear a simple t-shirt and pajama bottoms. if itâs very cold, she may wear a sweatshirt and/or sweatpants. theyâll either be plain colors like lilac or baby blue, or might have designs on them such as a jack rabbit (since that was their first patronus), wolves (reminding them of remus), or tonksâ favorite quidditch teams. warmer weather is practically the same, except sheâll wear shorts.
â„ do they have more muscles or more fat on their body?
probably a mix of both. she definitely does have abs and muscles, as she goes to the gym, trains as an auror, and plays quidditch when they can. itâs very difficult not to have some sort of fat on a human body, so tonks has some.
⧠any freckles/moles/birth marks? where?
answered here!
â does your muse put on make-up? how long do they need for it every day?Â
location: outside of briggâs brooms in diagon ally, london
open starter, anyone is welcome to reply!
if anyone were to ask him why he was here, ron wouldnât be able to come up with an answer. heâd likely fumble over his words and his cheeks and ears would tinge red with embarrassment. he had no reason to shop for a new broomstick. it wasnât like flying was a hobby of his, and he hadnât played a proper quidditch game in ages. plus, he had his old broom stuffed in his closet at his flat. ron used to have harryâs as well, but he gave that back to his friend after he returned from the dead. still, he had been strolling down diagon allyâs streets, and seeing briggâs brooms brought back so many memories.
memories as a child, tagging along as charlie, then percy, then fred and george, and finally himself, got to go to diagon ally and pick up school supplies . . . heâd always run straight over to briggâs brooms, where he was standing now. heâd press his face and palms right up against the glance, his eyes comically wide as he observed the best, fastest new brooms on the market. for the rest of the year, heâd talk about it constantly, until the next visit where he saw the next broom. itâd been a simpler time . . . at least for him . . . until things with voldemort got really serious. now, everything was a mess. he was a mess.
ron was so deep into his thoughts that he didnât notice that there was another person heading his way until the bumped into his shoulder.
she's lucky. she repeats that like a mantra, all day long; she could be one of the wix rushing around all in a tizzy, desperately trying to track down the perfect gift for their lengthy list of loved ones. it'd be a nightmare. she'd hate it. there's nothing wrong with a shorter list & the only search being for the perfect white elephant present, due in the office sometime next week, but no matter how much she TRIES marietta cannot convince herself of these tiny lies she often tells, most especially to herself. her mood is AWFUL, automatically worsened when she manages to shoulder barge, of all people, a weasley. "godric above, weren't you looking where you're going?"
âhey, i wasnât moving, iâm just standing atââ ron began to say to the stranger who had bumped into a stationary person, only to look over and realize that this was not a stranger, not really. he recognized her, how could he not? he was there, helping harry lead the D.A, when hermione cursed marietta for outing the group to umbridge. at the time, he was young and stupid, and he thought it was deserved. since then, he realized that you never knew the reasons people had behind the things they did. to curse someone for life for a mistake was . . . ron shook his head and gave her an awkward smile. âiâm just looking at the brooms. canât say anything is that appealing.â he shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, unsure of how sheâd react.
â» how about brushing teeth? three times a day, or just in the morning?
ron brushes his teeth in the morning after breakfast and at the night before he goes to sleep. on rare occasion, he may miss the nighttime if heâs super tired/something got in the way, but his hygiene is important to him. if heâs about to go out to some important dinner, he will brush his teeth before leaving his place.
†does your muse have any scars? where? what do they look like? how did they get them?
ron has scars up and down his arms, both from the brain tentacles he was attacked by in the battle of mysteries and when he splinched his arm. the scars from the brain resemble the tentacles, appearing almost like imprints. he has a deep scar wrapping around his entire arm from the splinching, that one is more like a circle.
⊠any tattoos? where? whatâs the story behind them?
ron has two tattoos. one is similar to ââŽïžâ which is supposed to illustrate light, as a reminder of the deluminator that dumbledore gave him. the second tattoo he has is the weasley whizard wheezesâ logo, as a way to remember fred.
â what do they wear when theyâre at work?
in the department of magical law enforcement, ron wears his standard auror robes/uniform. on missions, he wears something similar, itâs just adjusted to allow him to move more freely and with a little added protection. he occasionally helps george out at weasleyâs wizard wheezes, so heâll wear something more relaxed/comfy, usually a jumper and regular trousers. during d.a meetings, his wear is formal, all down to business.
Ron started to nod his head, then stopped and sighed, letting his shoulders fall. âItâs a little cold,â he admitted, quietly. âBut Iâm okay, really. Itâs no biggie.â He smiled up at his aunt, a woman that he didnât see as often as he wouldâve liked. There was something always tense between him and his mother â although, that could very well be his insecurities getting in the way. But around Aunt Clementine, the air felt lighter. He could be more honest, like admitting that he was cold instead of denying it like he would in any other situation.
ANON: â holy shit, your hands are freezing! â - Haruhi to Nymphadora for MEME NIGHT
for @danc3away
location: the lion and the snitch
âI know, I know,â Nymphadora said as she eagerly wrapped their hands around the mug of hot cocoa she had ordered. They enjoyed the atmosphere that the Lion and the Snitch offered, there was a calmness about it, and a warmth, especially in the wintertime, that kept drawing Nymphadora back again and again. âTeddy went over to my motherâs today and of course, he misplaced his gloves. I bet he lost them at the park. I told him to be careful with it.â She shook her head, unable to fault her son too much. After-all, as a kid (and sometime as an adult still) Nymphadora was a magnet for trouble. âI gave him mine because I know he wants to play out in the snow. The kid will never know I risked frostbite for him.â Of course, that was an exaggeration, but still. Nymphadora brought the cocoa to her lips. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold outside and they were glad to be warming up here.
