Phia!! Can I get a ship please? 🧡
I’m a gryffindor, I’ve got reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes and freckles. I love cooking and anything to do with food. I love reading, writing and painting in my spare time. I can be shy sometimes, but talkative with the things I’m passionate about, and I love love love rain and thunderstorms and autumn.
Love you and congratulations again on 300!
Hi Sophie, thank you so much angel baby!
I ship you with Ron Weasley!
Springtime at the Burrow was an absolutely beautiful experience. The flowers all around you were starting to bloom, the bees buzzing, Molly breaking out the floral decor and gardening - but your favorite?
It had always been the rain. Hearing it, seeing it, falling asleep to it. The rain and calm of the storm had always been a sanctity to you.
So here you were on a rickety old swing set that Arthur had found, your knees pulled up to your chest as you had been writing in your journal with your right hand. This was you at your most calm, the peace of writing with the smell and feel of an incoming rain at your heels.
This. This was springtime.
Sat in front of you was Ron, who had been also writing down some notes from his (ages late) homework, before he looked up at you.
“What d’you like about it?” He had asked simply.
“What do I like about what, Ronald?” You giggled softly moving to sit on his lap before you. He pressed his face into your hair and took a deep inhalation of you.
“The rain, dummy. What d’ya like about it so much?”
You pondered this watching a thunder cloud rumble in the sky. Ron began to softly sway you back and forth, the feeling of it all engulfing you in your lover’s arms.
“I like the sound. And the smell. And the way grass looks the next day. It’s like when I’m writing. It’s just always been comforting to me you know?” He had lifted you then and turned you facing him, a lightning crack behind you, startling you for a moment and falling closer into him. You giggled and he softly placed a chaste but lingering kiss to your lips. He leaned his forehead to yours.
“You’re my rain. Always will be.”
