Just a Touch of Love
Ron Weasley x Slytherin!reader
anon request: Hi there! Can I request a Ron x Slytherin!reader? She's not what people expect from a rich pureblood girl whose family's beliefs are the same as the Malfoy family. She's constantly fighting with her family and she's pretty much by herself in the world. Ron's her best friend since year one and he's always been there for her. Touch is definitely his love language, and y/n, who's definitely starved for touch, is in heaven witb his mannerisms such as playing with her hair. They're both in love with one another and when they finally get together after a little help from her friend, Harry and Hermione, they can't get enough of each other. Just a lot of fluff with this precious boy ❤ Thank you!
Warnings: emotionally abusive parental relationship, sad, fluff, physical touch love language
WC: 3k
A/N: hi i am fully in love with ron after writing this
***
What am I to do? I can’t just abandon my parents, can I?
These thoughts cycled through your head on a regular basis. Weighing the pros and cons of going off on your own and defying the life you were raised to believe was the only way to live.
With your head in your hands, you curled up into a ball on top of your bed, anxiously wishing for all of your problems to melt away as easily as the candle on your bedside table. After another harshly worded letter from your parents once again expressing their disappointment that you had refused Voldemort’s offer to work for him - for, not with - you were drained. This wasn’t uncommon, of course. And word spreads quickly in a place like Hogwarts. Especially when your housemates were usually not on your side to begin with.
Being a Slytherin had its perks. You were typically the last to get teased or picked on because you supposed people were afraid of the wrath of the others in the house. But there were more downfalls for a person like you. You were an outcast among those who had chosen a darker path. So naturally, you gravitated toward people who held similar values to your own. That’s how you got in so well with the Gryffindor crowd. They were able to see past your roots and see you for your own individual self.
And that’s also how you became best friends with a darling ginger boy during your first year. Because you didn’t partake in the hateful and ignorant behaviors of the students you regretted sharing a house with. And because he may or may not have stumbled upon you crying in a darkened corner of the library. From the moment he sat down next to you, you knew that he was something special. He didn’t say anything. He just sat. And he didn’t move until you were ready to. That was something you didn’t expect, especially from an eleven year old boy.
You didn’t know it then, but Ron was doing everything in his power not to lay a gentle hand over your knee, his common comfort technique instilled by his loving parents. But seeing as you were strangers, he felt it might be odd.
And it was. Because you were so unfamiliar with these expressions of care and concern that you weren’t quite sure how to react. Your parents were not the kind to kiss your scraped knee or let you sleep in their bed after a nightmare. They just weren’t affectionate. At least not toward you. Maybe they knew all along that you wouldn’t turn out like them. Maybe they were just horrible for no reason at all.
But now, five years later, you had become quite fond of the subtle signs of affection Ron showed to you. A hand on the knee is the least of Ron’s outward signs of comfort. As you grew closer, his efforts increased to provide you with that comfort. A hand on the knee became a grip on the shoulder, which eventually slid down to support along your lower back. He would never hesitate to pull you in for a hug when your eyes glistened with tears. He would never let you suffer through stomach aches, headaches, or heartbreaks without holding your hand through the pain.
Ron had become your rock. And he loved it.
Maybe he even began loving it a bit more than he anticipated. And maybe you had too.
*
“Y/N, don’t expect our support if you go down this road. We won’t be here to clean up after you. If we can’t count on you, then you most certainly can’t count on us. Goodbye.” The howler erupted before you, a feeling of loss and guilt seizing your heart at your mother’s voice. How could she say those things to her own daughter?
“Y/N?” A soft and familiar voice floated over to you from the nearby intersection of the corridors. You had found a small bench in a low-activity corner of the school to read your mail, not wanting anyone to read over your shoulder as so many of your Slytherin counterparts attempted to do each time.
But you never expected a howler to ridicule you to pieces. And so you were thankful for your privacy. But there he was, like always, ready to console you. Ron Weasley.
“What are you doing over here? And by yourself?” He looked around as if searching for an answer to his own question. But all he found was an empty corridor, save for the broken girl in front of him.
You felt like crying, you wanted to cry so desperately, yet all of the emotions built up inside of you were too overwhelming to process. The whites of your eyes had turned red as you struggled to reign in everything you were thinking.
When you didn’t answer Ron, instead just continuing to stare blankly into the distance, he cautiously approached and sat down on the bench next to you. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled your head in to rest on his shoulder. With his free arm, he took your hand into his and began rubbing comforting circles into your palm. It was numbing, and it was just what you needed. How did he always know?
“I’m here, for whatever you need, Y/N/N” he spoke softly into your ear, his head tilted down just slightly enough to see the tip of your nose peeking out from behind your hair. With the hand wrapped around your shoulder, he gently took a few strands of your hair and began twirling it between his fingers, the oh-so-gentle pull lulling you into a calmness only he could bring out of you.
The two of you remained like this for more than ten minutes, just sitting in silence. To some, this would have been more painful than the howler, but to you, just feeling the comforting touch from the boy next to you, something that you so desperately needed, was like heaven on earth.
Eventually, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, concern swimming within them. “Thank you, Ron. I’m sorry to be this way. But I appreciate you staying with me.” The downtrodden look on your face broke him once again.
“Hey, you know me, you know I’m here for you. Always.” And you truly did. It was something you never wanted to take for granted.
*
“Y/N!” You heard Hermione calling your name. “Y/N!” Her voice was getting closer. Is she running? Just then, your friend appeared in the doorway of your bedroom. She stopped abruptly when she spotted you sitting cross-legged on your bed, a downcast look plaguing your features as you stared at the wall across the room. “Y/N?” her once urgent calling out had transformed instantly to a concerned and gentle tone. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Hermione slowly approached the bed and sat next to you, the shift in weight causing the bed to sag ever so slightly. She touched your shoulder, an attempt at comfort that she knew was only truly possible from one particular boy. But Ron was with his siblings in Hogsmeade planning a celebration for their parents’ anniversary. So he couldn’t be here right now.
“Y/N, can you tell me what happened?” Hermione gently prodded you to share what had you staring into space so absentmindedly. She rubbed your back soothingly, although it did very little to ease the hurt in your heart.
All you could do was hold your hand up, holding a small parcel you had received in the post. A letter lay on top of the still-wrapped package. Hermione took your gesture as an invitation to take the letter and uncover what was hidden inside it’s crinkled page.
Her eyes scanned the document, barely believing what she read. She only tore her eyes from the parchment when you heard a knock on the already-open door and spotted Harry standing in the opening, confusion riddling his face. “Are you two-” he stopped when Hermione flashed him a warning look.
He took a few hesitant steps into the room to reach you and discover what was going on. Hermione said nothing, she just handed him the letter before wrapping her arms around you and pulling you in for a hug. She whispered in your ear “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You deserve so much better. We’re here for you, you know that, right?”
As tears began to form and slowly roll down your cheeks, you could only nod into her shoulder as she held you tight. Harry, upon reading the note, joined you and offered a warm embrace from behind, fully engulfing you from both directions. You all remained like this for a few minutes, your friends occasionally making concerned eye contact.You lifted your head when you felt the cool air on your back, signaling Harry’s movement. He rose and stepped away from the bed before softly speaking to you, “I’ll go get you some tea, warm you from the inside out.” With a nod from Hermione, he backed out of the room and disappeared down the stairs.
Hermione continued to hold you, it was all you could do to sit there and hold yourself together as much as you were. Your thoughts always returned to the contents of the letter and whatever resided in the small package on your bed.
Y/N,
I hope this letter finds you. We have a few things to discuss.
We have not heard from you since our last correspondence, which we take to mean you are refusing to leave your pathetic friends and life to join us.
In this case, we are sending this message to let you know that we will await your response with an address to send your belongings that are left in our home. This parcel we’ve sent is the first of many things we will be getting rid of. Should you ignore this message, your things will be left on the curbside, we will not be responsible. We suggest you come home and apologize to us before this happens.
We will await your response. Come home or let us know where to have your things delivered.
Regards,
Mr. & Mrs. Y/L/N
The number of times you had wanted to leave them behind couldn’t be counted, but this was beyond anything you imagined.
What would you do?
You were torn from your thoughts at the sound of a creaking floorboard by the door. You knew it was Harry so you didn’t bother opening your eyes to look up.
But at the warmth that enveloped you and the way his hands draped over you not only hold you to his chest, but also grasp your hands and hold them tight, you knew it wasn’t Harry. You let a few tears leak out of your eyes as you realized who had come for you. Hermione silently stood and retreated toward the door, knowing this was what you needed.
You turned to your side so you could look up into the watery eyes of your redheaded best friend. The ocean eyes you found such comfort in were storm-ridden from seeing you in this condition.
“I’m here, I’m here.” He cooed into your ear as you released any semblance of control you had over your emotions. It was as though this boy held the key to the floodgates of your heart, and he was the only one you wanted to trust with that kind of power.
His arms were wrapped around you completely, attempting to let you feel every ounce of love he had to offer. And it was working. You didn’t need a cup of tea to warm you when Ron was the very warmth that you sought each day.
You’re not sure how long you held one another, no speaking necessary. He held you tight, rubbing circles into your back and twirling your hair around his fingers with one hand while he held your other hand in his, squeezing it every so often to remind you that he was still there.
Ron swallowed the lump in his throat before ever so lightly speaking to you with the utmost softness in his tone, “Y/N/N, Harry told me about the letter. Do you want to talk about it?” He had a feeling he knew what you would say, but he asked anyway. You simply shook your head, not wanting to broach the subject just yet.
“Well, there’s something I want to say to you, even if you don’t want to talk yet.” He paused to take a deep breath. “Your family doesn’t deserve you, you are worth more than they will ever know. But I know. And I need you to see it.” He placed his hand gently beneath your chin and lifted your face to look at his, the heat from his fingers spreading through you with each passing second.
“You deserve so much better than they give you. I wish I could just make it all better, but I can’t.” You closed your eyes at the words he was saying. “But,” you looked him in the eyes once again, “you always have a home with me and my family. Mum would be happy to have you. Dad, too.”
“How do you know that? How do you know I won’t let them down too?” Your voice was hoarse from crying, which broke Ron’s heart even further.
“Because they already love you. How could they not? You’re bloody brilliant and kind and your smile lights up a room. And you give some of the best hugs.” He squeezed you tighter to his chest to enjoy the feeling of you against him. “And do you know what else?”
You blinked your teary eyes at him, no idea as to what else he would tell you. You sat up just a little straighter so you could see him better.
“I love you, too. And I have for a long while actually, I’m just an idiot for not saying so. But you deserve all the love in the world and I can’t keep it from you anymore.” His eyes grew wide as he waited for you to process and respond to what he had just said. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise, everyone around you both saw the love you shared before either of you did.
“You- you love me?” Was all you could muster as you tried to convince yourself that he wasn’t making it up. “Me?”
Ron leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, allowing his lips to linger for a few seconds. This was a moment he had looked forward to for so long, finally getting to share the heart-bursting emotions he had been harboring for months. “Yes, you. I love you, Y/N. If that wasn’t obvious enough.”
A new set of tears erupted from your eyes, but these tears were… refreshing, comforting, welcomed. Ron reached up to wipe them away with his thumb, a gentle smile gracing his face.
“I-“
“You don’t have to say it back, that’s not why I said it. I just need you to know how much you’re loved, by me, by all of your friends, by my family.”
“But I do love you, Ron. How could I not when you’ve been the one who’s been here for me all these years.” You sniffled, trying so hard to get the words out of your jumbled mind. “I love you. I have for a long while too, but there’s just so much in the way.”
“There’s nothing in the way. Nothing. You have a home with me, with my family. I’ve already told you.” He wanted to keep his voice calm despite the way that his heart was practically beating out of his chest.
He placed his hand lightly behind your neck at the base of your neck, once again sending a surge of heat and affection coursing through you at his touch. When you didn’t move away, but rather leaned into him, he connected your lips to his. A long awaited moment. Some say that kissing the one you love feels like fireworks, but they were wrong. It was like your soul caught fire, illuminating every dark and shadowy corner of yourself, but rather than feeling pain from the flames, it was as if you were brought to life and lifted higher, much like a hot-air balloon.
Coming back down from the very heights of love you had felt in the kiss, you smiled against his lips before pulling away, resting your forehead against his, just breathing each other in.
Ron was the first to break the silence, a sly smile adorning his completely-at-peace face, “you know, if you accept my offer to move in with my family, this might make living together a bit more complicated, but what is life without a bit of challenge, yeah?”
*
“Welcome home, Y/N.” Ron pushed the door to the Burrow open for you to walk in. You had been here countless times before, but this time felt just a little brighter and warmer. You looked around as if it was totally new to you rather than the place you’ve called more of a home than your parent’s house for years.
Molly and Arthur were waiting inside and were quick to envelop you in the kind of hug you had been robbed of your whole life. This was what it felt like to be loved by your family.
Ron had joined you, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. Your eyes flitted over to look at him, but they caught on something behind him. Hanging along the mantle were the Weasley family christmas stockings. And there, at the end, was a new addition: Y/N, hand-stitched and more elegant than anything you had ever had made for you. Ron followed your line of vision and smiled at the gesture his mother had made.
Throwing his arm up and around your shoulder, Ron pulled you closer to kiss your temple. This was it. Home. Love.
***
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