Summary: His only request: don't fall for his brothers. But love, sometimes, is the most disobedient of all.
wc: 1.7k
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Ron paced back and forth in the Burrow's dining room. The cramped, furniture-filled space made his task difficult, but he'd found a small, clear path, perfect for working off his nervous energy.
"If you keep going like this, you'll leave a hole in the floor," Molly scolded him, but he paid her no mind.
Ginny casually walked down the stairs, drawn by the tantalizing smell of dinner. But as she tried to approach the kitchen, Ron bumped into her, nearly knocking her off her feet.
"What's wrong with you, idiot?!" she complained angrily, hoping to start an argument, but she was also ignored as her brother continued pacing, muttering something incomprehensible.
"Ginny, love, just ignore him," suggested her mother. "He's nervous about tonight."
"What's going on tonight?" A pleasant smell suddenly reached her nose. "Ron, have you put on perfume?"
"Today we'll meet our dear Ronnie's girlfriend," George chimed in, crossing the room quickly, pushing past his other brother in the process, who glared at him.
"What are you saying? She's not my girlfriend. She's my friend!" Ron corrected him, stopping his pacing around the kitchen.
"Yes, that friend you always write about in your diary," Fred added, coming down the stairs and quoting, "Dear Diary: The other day she laughed at one of my jokes. I think I could live happily ever after just seeing her smile and..."
Completely red-faced, Ron threw a nearby wooden ladle at him, hitting him right on the head. Not far behind, Fred grabbed a nearby plastic cup, ready to throw it.
"Enough! Enough!" Molly demanded, stopping cooking, but everyone froze when they heard someone knocking on the door. "Behave yourselves," his mother instructed in a low, threatening voice before heading for the door. She shook her apron, smoothed her hair, and with her best smile, headed for the entrance.
You stood there, smiling and completely unaware of the war you'd interrupted with your arrival. The twins exchanged knowing glances as their brother stood transfixed, staring in your direction.
For his part, Ron thought you'd never looked so beautiful. A dress he'd never seen before and some makeup had completely disarmed him. His heart was pounding so hard he was afraid you could hear it even from so far away.
"Oh, dear," Mrs. Weasley greeted. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home."
"Good evening," you said as you entered.
"So you're Ron's famous friend." Fred flitted across the dining room to where you were standing, which annoyed Ron. "My brother can't stop talking about you, even more than the Chudley Cannons, which is quite an achievement. I'm Fred, by the way."
"Pleased to meet you," you replied in an amused tone, just as George caught up with you.
"Hey, friend of Ron's? That's a lovely smile you have, Ron doesn't do you justice in his diary." You looked at him blankly. Your panicked friend also crossed the room in a flash to drag you with him to the already set table. You smiled at Ginny on the way, who waved vaguely.
You took a seat at the table and tried to talk to Ron, when a new Weasley strode down the stairs.
"What's all the commotion?" Percy asked, not raising his voice too much but maintaining his usual critical tone.
"Percy, you're just in time to meet Ron's girlfriend," George joked.
"She's my friend," Ron repeated, his tone somewhere between pleading and exasperated.
Percy raised an eyebrow at you with his usual superior air before approaching your seat.
"A pleasure," he extended his hand. "Percy Weasley, Assistant to the Minister of Magic."
"Junior Assistant," Ginny clarified with a smile, earning a reproachful look from her brother.
"Nice to meet you," you replied with a friendly smile as you shook his hand.
"Are you interested in the world of politics?" he asked out of the blue.
"Uh... well, I'm not really familiar with it, to be honest..."
"Doesn't matter," he replied with a slight smirk. "Nor does Ron. But it doesn't stop him from loudly voicing his opinion at every meal."
"Percy!" Ron complained, while the twins laughed.
At that moment, the door opened again, revealing Arthur Weasley, carrying an old toolbox, his hair disheveled, and a few oil stains on his clothes and cheeks.
"The car's already fixed," he announced. "She gave me a good fight... What did I miss?"
"Nothing, Dad. Ron's friend is over for dinner," Ginny informed him.
Arthur's eyes fell on you for the first time.
"Oh, yes, Ron's friend! Welcome, dear!" He shook your hands warmly. "Ron's been asking for you to come to dinner all week; he was very excited," he commented casually.
"Thank you so much for having me. I was really looking forward to meeting you too."
"Lovely," Fred commented, looking directly at his brother, who could no longer hide the scarlet color in his cheeks.
Dinner was served calmly, and everyone took their places at the table. Mrs. Weasley's food was more delicious than you'd imagined, and you let her know, earning a smile from her.
"I'm so glad you came," Molly said delightedly. "It's always nice to have new faces at this table."
"I think you should come more often," George said in a cheerful tone, earning another glance from his brother, whose jaw was clenched. Ginny smiled at you from across the table, noting with some delight how her brothers surrounded you with questions and jokes.
"You're in the same year as Ron, aren't you?" Percy asked with genuine interest, gently placing his fork on his plate. "And are you already preparing for your O.W.L.s? They're crucial for your future. I remember getting an A in most of them. It was exhausting, but clearly worth it."
"Of course," you said honestly. "I'm not sure which path to take yet, so I'll try to take every subject. Professor McGonagall says I have a good chance."
"Hmm," Percy nodded, almost approving solemnly. "A prudent strategy. Although I must warn you, specializing early can make all the difference. I, for example, knew since fourth year that I wanted to get into the Ministry. So I focused my efforts on Charms, Transfiguration, and Muggle Studies, of course."
"Muggle Studies?" you asked in surprise.
"Of course. You can't understand how to influence them without knowing them first," he said, as if it were a grand revelation.
"Well, I don't think it's necessary. My parents aren't wizards," you shrugged.
Arthur, who was preoccupied with a gear and spring, looked up with interest.
"Oh, I had no idea your parents were Muggles... Do you know how electrical outlets work?"
"Dad, please don't," Ron pleaded.
"But it is fascinating!" Arthur replied, offended. "Electricity is a marvel. Those little holes in the wall do everything."
Dinner continued as normal, the Weasleys welcoming you with laughter and family anecdotes that made Ron blush even more (if that was possible). After several failed attempts to intervene, he gave up and remained mostly silent.
At dessert time, which you had brought from home, the twins announced they wanted to officially adopt you as a new member of the family, prompting another irritated grimace from Ron. Amid all the delightful bustle, your best friend seemed increasingly absorbed in his plate, barely taking a bite.
It was after clearing the table that he discreetly approached and asked you to step outside. You followed him outside, where the fresh air instantly gave you goosebumps. Without a word, Ron took off his coat and offered it to you. You smiled at him before accepting, but he just nodded for you to follow him.
You walked silently beside him for a few feet until you reached an old wooden fence where you leaned against it.
"What's wrong? You're so quiet... Did I do something wrong?" you asked, tilting your head.
Ron shook his head gently, smiling sadly.
"You couldn't do it wrong even if you wanted to," he said softly. "You're practically perfect."
"So?" You frowned, confused.
"It's just..." He paused for a long, awkward moment. "You're smart, funny, kind... And Fred and George have that idiotic sense of humor that girls love... And even Percy could seem smart if you got him on a good day."
"So what?"
He didn't answer, just avoided your gaze. You stood up from the fence so you could be facing him.
"Ron," you insisted gently. "Please, tell me what's wrong."
"Please don't fall in love with my brothers."
Your eyes widened in surprise, not knowing how to respond to his plea. You clutched the coat he'd lent you, which still held his scent. Unable to hold it back for a second longer, you leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on his lips.
Ron froze for a few seconds, staring at you blankly. You didn't dare smile, afraid of ruining your friendship. But when he finally reacted, he placed a hand on your cheek to pull you closer again.
Their lips met awkwardly, but then settled naturally. Your hands tangled in his hair, and somewhat shyly, he placed his hands on your waist, melting into that kiss you had both longed for. When you broke apart, his cheeks were still flushed, and you couldn't contain your smile.
"It was definitely a good idea to invite you to dinner," he confirmed, stealing a short kiss from you.
A murmur caught both of your attention. The kitchen window, misted by the faint heat inside, suddenly revealed several pairs of eyes peeking out brazenly. At once, the curtain moved sharply, but not quickly enough.
"Fred! I told you not to lean on me!"
"Stop pushing, Percy! I can't see either!"
"Shut up! They're going to hear us!"
"George, don't wipe your nose on my hair!"
Ron let out a sigh of frustration, half-resignation, while you couldn't contain your laughter, wrapping your arms around him in a warm hug. On the other side of the glass, a sharp thud followed by an "I told you he was going to fall!" confirmed that, indeed, Percy had ended up on the floor.
And although Ron protested under his breath, muttering about moving out on his own and never inviting you back, he hugged you tighter and let you rest your head on his shoulder as the two of you gazed out at the starry night sky above the Burrow.
Summary: When the Stones' music becomes the center of a funny interrogation, Ron Weasley has to give it his all.
wc: 1.4k
Masterlist
“Hermione! The door!” you shouted upon hearing the unmistakable sound of the front doorbell, but received no response from your sister. The repetitive melody rang again, this time more insistently. “HERMIONE!” you called again, but again, you were ignored.
Clearly annoyed, you threw the book you had found among your sister’s things onto the other bed before heading downstairs. You had been warned about Hermione’s friends’ visit weeks ago, but you had never been informed that you would be the one to greet them.
The doorbell rang once more. You cursed under your breath before slamming the door open. The two boys jumped, one of them still holding up his hand to ring your bell once more.
“Oh,” the boy with glasses looked at you in confusion. “I’m so sorry, we were looking for the Grangers’ house.”
“It’s here,” you clarified. “You’re Hermione’s friends, right?”
They both looked at each other before nodding. You stepped aside to let them pass. "Hermione's my sister. I suppose she's out shopping. She'll be here soon."
The two boys looked at each other cautiously before entering. You couldn't help but look them up and down. For a second, you regretted not going to that strange magical boarding school yourself. They sat stiffly in one of the living room armchairs, as if afraid of making the wrong move.
"Do you want something to drink?" you asked, trying to be friendly. "There's tea or juice... or water."
"Tea would be nice, thanks," the boy with glasses replied with a smile.
"Fine. And you?" This time, you looked at the redhead.
But he seemed frozen, staring at you with his mouth half open. You frowned and looked at his friend, who seemed to notice his condition and jabbed him in the side with his elbow, making him jump.
"Ron," the redhead finally said, as if he'd found his words.
“Well… But I don't think there's any of that in the kitchen,” you replied uncomfortably. Perhaps it was a very common drink among teenage wizards. “Can I offer you a soft drink?”
“No—er—I mean—” he cleared his throat. “My name is Ron.”
“And mine's Harry,” the one with glasses added. “And he'll be drinking tea too.”
“Sure, a pleasure.”
From the kitchen, you could hear the two of them whispering in the living room, but you couldn't make out what they were talking about. When they returned with the tray, they both fell silent and nervously looked straight ahead.
“How strange they are,” you thought.
Just then, the front door lock turned and your sister walked in, laden with bags from the store. “Oh, I was expecting them later,” Hermione commented, leaving a few shopping bags by the door.
“They just got here a moment ago,” you told her. “If I didn't open the door for them, they'd break the doorbell,” you tried to joke, but both boys turned red. Especially Ron, who seemed to choke on his own tongue.
"I'm sorry, Mum asked me to stop by the pharmacy. I didn't think you'd be so punctual," Hermione apologized, taking a seat opposite her friends.
"Don't worry, your sister was very kind," Harry replied, accepting the cup of tea you handed him.
"Oh, thank you," your sister said when you offered her a freshly brewed cup.
When it was Ron's turn, his hands trembled slightly as he took the cup, which he did with extreme delicacy, as if afraid of dropping it.
"So... you like The Rolling Stones?" Ron asked suddenly.
It took you a few seconds to answer, thinking they were talking to each other, but the redhead gestured to your T-shirt. It was an old one you had taken from your dad's old things. It was a bit big on you and the neck was a bit stretched out, but the band logo was still visible.
“Ah,” you hesitated. “Yes, I like them quite a bit,” you admitted.
“Me too, they’re my favorite band,” he confessed. Harry and Hermione looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.
“That’s great… What song do you like?”
“Oh… That one… You know… It’s very well-known.” He began to mumble nervously, but no song seemed to come to mind. You hid a small smile behind your own mug, taking a sip.
“I didn’t know you knew The Rolling Stones,” Hermione said with a fake air of distraction.
“What are you saying?” Ron complained. “They’re my favorite band!”
“You still haven’t told us your favorite song,” your sister pressed.
“That’s because… There are so many, I can’t choose just one!” Ron took a quick sip from his mug. “It’s very good,” he said almost inaudibly.
“Then I think you could tell me the name of the singer, right?” your sister insisted again.
Ron's cheeks went from a furious red to a worrying pale. He obviously didn't know who the Rolling Stones were, and it didn't really matter. But Hermione seemed to enjoy unnerving him.
"Who do you take me for? Of course I know!" Ron glanced at his friend for help, but he just shrugged, holding back a laugh.
"Mick Jagger?" you offered with a half-smile.
“Exactly,” exclaimed the redhead, regaining some color in his face. “Mick… that… Excellent guy.”
Hermione slapped her forehead in resignation, while Harry could no longer hide his laughter. You just smiled at Ron, bringing back the crimson color to his cheeks.
“Anyway,” Hermione sighed, going to grab one of the shopping bags, the only one different from the others. “I bought this for astronomy class.” She pulled out a small golden artifact, similar to a telescope.
“Cool,” you said, snatching it from her hands. She tried to stop you, but gave up when she saw you had already placed it over one of your eyes. “I can’t believe they use those things for school. It’s impressive.” You looked at your sister through the artifact, distorted and upside down.
“And you?” You handed the strange telescope back to your sister and looked at Ron, who was turning to you again.
“What about me?”
“Nothing, just… uh… um…”
“I’m not a witch, if that’s what you were going to ask,” you said briskly.
“Ah… Sorry.”
“Why? It’s not something I deny,” you dismissed with a casual gesture.
“No, yes, of course, but you know. It would have been fun if you came to school too…” He paused to sip his iced tea. “For Hermione, mainly,” he clarified.
Hermione looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, right… For me,” she replied sarcastically before rising from her seat with a dramatic sigh. “Harry, could you give me a hand carrying the groceries to the kitchen?”
Harry looked at her, uncomprehending. “Now?”
“Yes, Harry, now,” she interrupted in a firm tone.
The boy with glasses blinked a few times before quickly standing up, his long legs slamming onto the coffee table. You heard him swear before helping your sister with the bags, which didn’t seem heavy at all.
Ron watched them leave, completely bewildered. You saw him about to help them, but quickly stopped him. “So what other bands do you like?... Besides the Rolling Stones?”
His expression turned into a gesture somewhere between nervous and worried, impossible to hide.
“I really like Queen,” you continued. “Although I also like Pink Floyd... and ABBA.”
“All of them... Great... I love them.”
“You don’t seem like the type of guy who listens to ABBA.”
“It’s my favorite band... after the Rolling Stones.”
“Of course,” you agreed. “Always after them.” You laughed softly when you saw him lower his gaze.
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione and Harry came back from the kitchen. They both gave you an apologetic look.
“We have to go,” Hermione announced. “Your mother must be worried sick, Ron.”
“Already?” the redhead complained, but with a sigh, he got up from the sofa.
You quickly tore off a sheet of paper from a small notepad next to the phone and scribbled down your number before handing it to Ron. He looked at it as if you were pointing a gun at him.
“If you want to talk more about the Stones,” you smiled at him.
“But... I don’t know how to use a pho…”
“I’ll teach him,” Harry interrupted, grabbing the paper.
You watched them walk off down the street, and you couldn’t help but smile when Ron turned around to see if you were still there. You gestured for him to call you, which made him turn around quickly and be playfully shoved by his friend.
Maybe you could bribe your sister to invite them over next summer.
