bloodstraitcr:
WHERE: The Leaky Cauldron, London. WHEN: March 1st, 2024 @ 15:58. WHO: Open to all adults.
He wasn’t going to cry.
He couldn’t cry.
Ron had to admit it; it was a bit early to get drunk. Or well, to drink. At his age, he couldn’t very well excuse drinking just for the sake of getting drunk, could he? Not even when all he wanted to do was either lie down on the floor and never get up again OR throw glasses at the wall until he bled from the shards that rebounded back to him.
Fuck. He hated everything so much at that moment. From the rickety table he was sitting at, to the chair he was sitting on, to the looks of pity the bartender kept on sending his way. And she wasn’t the only one. Even McLaggen’s kid, bloody McLaggen’s kid, had sent a drink his way. Not that he hadn’t done the same to her a few nights ago, after he’d heard whispers of her sister’s death. Still, it stung. Ron Weasley used to be easy to pity. He used to find himself pitiful, even, but that had changed. Ron had changed. He was a grown man now, and he didn’t need to be pitied. Fuck. What he needed was his best friend back.
He had spent the first eleven years of his life without Harry. That was a big chunk of time, and yet, he felt like the hole inside of him would have been just have big if they had known each other from birth. He loved Harry. He hadn’t said it enough. It wasn’t the “manly” thing to do, and Ron had always tried to prove himself. As the youngest of six boys, he had wanted to show he was strong. And telling your best friend you loved him had, apparently, never been a great show of strength, and how fucking much Ron regretted it was unbelievable. He had said it from time to time, but was it enough? Did Harry ever know that Ron saw him as a brother? As even more than that? Ron loved his brothers, sure, but Harry held a special place in his heart. A place that had been turned into a hole that would never be filled again.
It was his first birthday without Harry. Well, except for his first eleven ones, but Ron didn’t count those. Hell, he could barely remember them. His sixteenth birthday had been especially interesting, and Ron couldn’t help but quietly chuckle as he remembered it whilst staring into his glass of whiskey.
Harry was gone. Harry would never get to turn forty-four. Harry Potter was dead.
So absorbed into his thoughts and his whiskey, Ron didn’t even notice anyone approaching him until he finally looked up and saw that someone was sitting right in front of him.
“Oh, bloody hell,” he jumped in surprised, putting his hand against his heart for a second before raising an eyebrow. “Kind of rude to try to give a guy a heart attack on his birthday, you know?”
“hm,” avalon looked up at the ceiling, though her gaze seemed to transcend the rickety wooden structure above them, considering the statement. would it be rude to give someone a heart attack on his birthday, rather than any other day? did it matter what day one died? or would it only matter if one lived through said heart attack? “I suppose it could be.” she wondered if people asked to be given a heart attack, now. how would one go about doing it on purpose?
the table beneath them moved slightly, jolting the montague girl out of her thoughts. “here,” she pushed one of the drinks across the table, her eyes setting on the man before her. his sadness seeped out of him like oxygen seeped out of trees; it permeated the room, drawing avalon’s attention away from her seating partner to him. the sadness was so powerful that it had taken her a moment to recognize him. so easy was it to sense people’s emotions, her sympathy was soon chased out of her mind by her imagination. the corners of her lips had turned upward in a wry smile, eyes shining bright at the opportunity laid before her. she wasn’t going to do much, of course. after all, there was always more fun to be had with her cousin by her side. but tonight, she felt like playing.
her eyes turned sympathetic, now. her gaze turned toward the drink as she lowered her chin toward it, “you seemed rather sad without a drinking partner.” her eyebrows unknitted themselves as she looked at the man, her eyes wide. she lifted a corner of her lips, keeping her smile small, and lifted her own drink toward him.











