𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐈𝐃'𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒
— pre-battle!ron weasley x fem!reader
— content: whiny ron, fluff, anyhouse!reader, friends, back-and-forth bantering, confession(s), part one here
— word count: 2.1k
after the late-night rendezvous with ron, you find yourself questioning your friendship with him. truths begin to unravel faster than you can comprehend.
early morning sunlight stretches across the length of the dormitory, tickling your cheeks. at first, you waft at it lazily with a hand, lacking the strength or will to prop yourself up. then, as your mind comes to, you notice the lack of coverage from last night.
your eyes flutter open. the curtains dangling across your bed from last night were parted off to the side, as if someone had pushed them off there. you bring a hand to rub groggily at your eyes, swiveling on your sheets to glance at the side of the bed where ron had previous been laying.
sure enough, the boy had left long before the sun had risen. there was not a single a crease in the bed for you to wake up to. must’ve fluffed the pillow, too. it was as if he had never been there to begin with.
[[MORE]]you pick yourself up and let out a great yawn, loosening your once-tense muscles as you stretch wide and large. a shudder runs through your body, and a long sigh follows suit. you’re surprised to find that you did sleep—and sleep well—after last night’s mess, with ron taking up a considerably large portion of your bed.
you tsk away the thought, drawing the curtains around your bed again so you may have the privacy of freely changing into the school’s uniform. it was a rather difficult task to attempt from the chambers of your bed, but it beat standing in a cramped bathroom stall with a toilet to your behind and the stench of sewer to your left and right.
the thought of last night nags at you again, prodding you as if there’s more to think about. you shoo it away, for you thought all you could already and there was nothing more to do. it was a silly night, but it was over.
your eyes catch on a fallen ‘defense against the dark arts’ textbook. endeavors from last night remind you that you still had two chapters to read, and you were royally screwed for class today. slumping over, you snatch the book up and rest your forehead against the leather casing.
you were soon to your feet and hobbling out into the corridors of hogwarts. long ebony arches stretched above you, similar to the overhead ceilings in your dormitory. they remind you of a ribcage, and you’re a little uneased by the thought.
again, there’s a pestering that returns to you. even as you walk through winding corridors and a flurry of students hurrying to their daily activities; and as you head towards the doors of the great hall, you’re reminded of last night’s pig breakfast. the affair in its whole is beginning to tire you, yet for some reason unbeknownst to you, it is more significant than the growing rumble in your stomach.
a flash of ginger crosses your peripheral, and all the memories flood back to you. it transfixes you in place, just as the foreboding doors of the great hall come into view.
what was it he had said?
if he told you, what exactly?
he never went on with it, did he?
all his talk of protection and other means of your friendship, the way he spoke so fervently yet apprehensively… it could be the only reason for the unsettling weight sitting upon your shoulders.
your eyes flit to the carved wooden double doors. they had been propped open so students could run in for a quick breakfast, then flee to class. your stomach growled low, and your eyebrows sunk into a crease. hunger was a beast, but you were overcome with anxiety as you imagined who could be inside. staring face-to-face with confrontation, would it be worth it?
the great hall is chorusing with laughter and rounds of chatter when you step inside. candles float overhead, their snouts whisking from side to side. a soft foggy dew settles just above them, though no water droplets make their way down. the ceiling is somewhere far above them, but the dew creates an atmosphere so grand it shields you from ever seeing it.
you fiddle with the hem of your robes and glance around for ron’s familiar bob of red hair. students gather themselves and pass you, and you have to shuffle every few seconds to see past their pointy black hats.
when you spot him, you notice he isn’t alone. a boy with round glasses and tattered dark hair sits beside him. it’s harry, and you’re somewhat eased by his appearance. perhaps the anxiety would boil over into serenity.
“hey,” you say once you’re close enough for them to hear. the spot on the bench opposite of the two is free, so you sling your legs around and plop down.
“morning,” says harry. ron hums to himself, sipping on a cup of grape juice.
placed pretty before you is a row of eggs, toast, beans, and a variety of fruits to start your day. you pluck some eggs onto the empty plate before you.
“hey, have you heard what people ’ve been saying about snape?” ron asks, looking between the two of you as he wipes his hand across his mouth.
harry scoops up a mouthful of beans. “not slightly.”
“heard he wants to take back defense against the dark arts,” ron says.
“oh, that’s rubbish,” you say, lightly poking at the eggs on your plate with a fork. you stare into the mesh of yellow fluff, unable to manage direct eye-contact with either of them.
“not at all!” ron retorts. “he’s taught it—what—twice, now?”
harry grimaces at the thought. “more than that.”
ron dips his head in agreement and goes for a chunk of blueberries. “he’s daft if he thinks he’s fit for more than potions.” you’re a little thrown off by the casual conversation, and it only adds fuel to your predicament.
“you sure need someone to whip you into shape after the spiders last night,” you tease, though it’s more of an attempt to change course of the conversation to your benefit.
“don’t remind him,” harry sighs. “i’ve been dealing with the aftermath ever since he came in screaming his head off this morning—”
“—i was not screaming—”
“—like a chicken with it’s head cut off.”
ron throws him a side jab, and harry takes it full force with a giggle. harry grins wide at him, and eventually ron falls victim to a small smile. “shove off.”
“yeah, you first.” harry shovels a forkful of beans into his mouth, then clears his plate of food. “woke me right up. neville was scared stiff.”
ron only shrugs. “neville’s scared of everything.”
“not so much spiders,” harry adds cockily, then stands up and tucks a couple books under the crook of his arm, all the while yawning. “i gotta go. professor wants me there early to practice some sort of warding charm.”
“i’ll bet,” ron snorts.
harry rolls his eyes and gives him a harsh pat on the shoulder. “see you in a few.” then he looks to you and nods. “good seeing you.”
“yeah, you too.”
the conversation dwindles when harry leaves, and neither of you plan on speaking. ron digs back into his food, and you finally muster up the courage to eat a small portion of the eggs on your plate. you can tell by the dying chatter around you that you’re running out of time to address the matter at hand, but confrontation of this sort is always the scariest, especially when you weigh the risks of losing a dear friend.
you curse under your breath, and ron lifts his head to look at you properly now. you straighten out and clear your throat, evading eye-contact like a guilty convict. “last night…” you start, slow to find the words.
“if this is about my mom’s cooking,” he huffs, shaking his head, “i’ll revoke my side of the trade.” he raises his eyebrows, adding to the severity of his message. “i will do it, and i know how much you like it.”
“no—no, not at all!” you fight the urge to look up at him. “i heard what you were saying,” you tell him, “in the bed, when you thought i was asleep.”
the words ron had planned to say die on his tongue. you prattle on.
“i’m terribly sorry i didn’t say anything,” you wince. “i know it’s horrible of me, but i couldn’t help it. well, it’s rather that i didn’t know what to say. i mean, i don’t know what you were trying to say but—but, uh, i guess what i’m trying to say is that while i appreciated your kind words, i want to know what you were withholding from me.”
you finally bring yourself to look up at him, feigning a horribly awkward smile. ron’s gaze is lowered, but he still manages to meet your own stare. his giddy demeanor has softened, but you’re unsure of what it means. he’s dropped his fork to his plate, and his hair falls undone across his face. for a moment, fear flashes across his features; but you doubt yourself, and it fixes back to a composed cool.
“that? that was—it was—i said,” he stammers, fingers curling into a fist as he struggles to work out a complete sentence. “i was rehearsing!” he chuckles aloud. “rehearsing for a play that harry and hermione have been working up. just hadn’t told you about it yet.”
suspicion accosts you as soon as the words part from his lips. “ron,” you warn, your tone tame and heeding. heat flourishes across his cheeks, coloring them a rosy red. his ears aren’t left out and they, too, warm up. “i’m not foolish.”
“i know,” murmurs out a now heavily-embarrased ron.
“so?”
“why do you want to know?”
your jaw ticks, and you realize there’s no way to go about this conversation without revealing a couple devastating secrets. and ron, in all his stubbornness, wouldn’t give in easy.
ron looks like he wants to be swallowed up by the table when you finally answer. “i suppose i was hoping to hear something in specific.”
his eyes glimmer faintly. “what do you mean?”
you breathe deep and swallow thick, forcing the words to crawl out of your throat. “you said you wished to protect me, and with the way you were holding me, i thought…” you frown and blink hard, hoping to blink away the tremble in your voice and the gushiness of your nerves. “… you fancied me.”
you don’t dare gander at him, eyes flitting elsewhere, but you pray he’ll say anything to keep you from drowning in a suffocating silence.
ron raps on the table with the pads of his fingers. at first, it’s too quiet for you to hear past the train wreck of your thoughts. but, the sound grows nearer and louder, and eventually you take a glimpse in its direction.
from his hand up to his face, you notice that ron isn’t nearly as afraid as before. rather, he looks pleased. seeing as he has your attention, he turns his hand around so his palm lies facing the floating candles above. his fingers make a grabbing motion, curling into a fist once, then twice. reluctantly, you take his hand. your lip quivers.
“it’s too late to disagree, right?”
you blink. “what?”
ron smiles soft. “you’re not wrong.” his face is still flooded a rosy red, but he seems comforted, now.
“you… fancy me?” you almost scoff at him. he squeezes your hand.
“and have.”
the fleeting discovery of his true emotion refills you with confidence, and you shake your head furiously. “oh, you are a git!”
“hey!”
“was last night all a rouse to get close to me?” you accuse. mirth plays beneath any irritation.
“not slightly! those things were seriously on my bed!” ron exclaims. laughter brews up and out of your chest, and ron breaks into a toothy grin. your grasp on his hand firms.
“you think i’m fit, then?”
your eyes glaze over him. while you absolutely adore him, you can’t help but stifle a giggle and quip, “don’t ruin the mood, you prick.”
“but you do?”
you scrunch your nose up and sigh out a dreary, “i suppose i do find you peculiarly charming.”
ron practically melts across the table, and a similar blush flourishes across your cheeks. they’re beginning to hurt from smiling so big.
“you’re heaven.”
a booming voice causes the two of you to separate at once, retracting your hands and shooting to your feet.
“late, and double-y late! ten points from the both of you, including detention for the week!” snape snips ron behind his ear as he passes by. “go on your way, and don’t dawdle.”
you bow your head and scoop your textbook into your hands. a simple glance around showed an empty great hall. caught in the heat of the moment, neither of you realized how much time had passed.
but ron sends you a mischievous look, and you crumble into a fit of giggles.
what a cutie.
