#you ever pause and realize percy doesn't seem to have any actual interests through the whole series

[wondernimbus]

a day in hogsmeade — ron weasley

pairing: ron weasley x female!reader

summary: ron weasley may be one awkward lad who can’t hold reader’s gaze for any more than ten seconds, but he is also terribly endearing. 

a/n: @glisseoo​ asked for some ron fluff so i shall deliver

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work! 

"You do realize you've been staring at me for the past minute, right?"

The redhead next to her flushes the same hue as his hair and puffs his cheeks out, gaze skittering away. "I wasn't," he says indignantly, sounding far too defensive, snorting out a laugh as though the mere idea of it is outrageous. “Why would I be.. ha.. staring at you.. ridiculous.."

[Y/N] shakes her head, grinning.

Ron Weasley is one awkward lad; it has only taken her an hour into their date at Hogsmeade to realize this. Part of her had been expecting it ever since he'd come up to her in the Great Hall three days ago, a furiously blushing mess as he blubbered something about asking her out. Looking back on it, despite him having rambled on in front of her for about half a minute, all she can really remember—all she'd vaguely made out at that moment through his constant stammering—were the words "Hogsmeade" and "this Saturday" and "want to—um—go with me". 

She’d said yes, of course. Ron Weasley may be awkward, but she can't deny herself the pleasure of going on a date with a very cute—and apparently very funny, according to the rumors—redheaded boy. 

And to be honest, his awkwardness is quite endearing. [Y/N] finds herself laughing every five minutes or so whenever she spots him downright staring at her—and whenever she catches him, he always tears his gaze away and pretends to be preoccupied with something else.

Ron does it again now, as [Y/N] surveys the Honeydukes shelves and glances at him out of the corner of her eye. The effect is almost immediate; the moment her eyes land on his, he looks away, hand flying up to randomly pluck a box of—ah, Cockroach Clusters—off of the shelves.

"Interesting choice," muses [Y/N], turning around to properly face him, twiddling with a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans in her hands. "Can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone pick up a box of Cockroach Clusters for their own enjoyment—it almost always has something to do with some sort of practical joke.”

Ron coughs and puts the box back on the shelf. "Was just looking."

[Y/N] purses her lips together to contain the giggles threatening to burst out from behind them. She smiles down at her feet for a moment, lips pinched in a poorly-concealed smile, and then gestures to the row of Cockroach Clusters. "Well," she shifts on her feet, "Have you ever tried them?"

Ron's eyes widen. He practically blanches and says, "Never. My brothers—Fred and George—tricked Percy into eating it once.. don't think he was the same ever since."

[Y/N] laughs at this. Ron looks up, seemingly pleasantly surprised at her reaction, and then laughs quietly under his breath, hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "That does sound like Fred and George," [Y/N] giggles. "Do you take after them?"

"Gah, no." They’ve started walking now, Ron keeping pace next to her in the narrow aisle, their shoulders brushing slightly. "Mum would have a heart attack. She’s got enough on her platter with two troublemakers in the family already."

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows and glances up at him. "You sure you aren't one? I’m in your Potions class, you know. I’ve heard you talk back to Snape plenty of times."

Ron flushes red not for the first time that day. "Can't really help it. He’s a bit of a git." And then he adds, "Sorry."

"Oh, don't be." [Y/N] waves a hand in the air as though to brush it off. "You’re not wrong. Can’t keep his nose out of other people's business—you know he gave my friend detention once for disrupting his class when all he did was sneeze?"

"I remember that. Wasn’t that Ernie?"

"Exactly—Ernie Macmillan. Snape made him clean the trophy room."

Ron makes a sound in the back of his throat like a snort. "Ah. The trophy room. Probably didn't have much to clean, then. I scrubbed the bloody hell out of those trophies four years ago when I got detention."

[Y/N] laughs, nudging him lightly by the elbow. "And you say you're not a troublemaker."

This time, Ron doesn't blush beet red; he actually laughs, and [Y/N] is pleased at how he's managed to ease up a little. Shrugging, he admits, "Suppose I am. Not as bad as the twins, though, as I’m sure you know."

"I and the rest of the castle," [Y/N] affirms, giggling. They’ve reached the cashier by now—and speak of the devil; the Weasley twins are standing in line, though their backs are turned. "Isn’t that them?" asks [Y/N] curiously, looking to Ron for confirmation.

But the sight she's met with is rather comical. All the color seems to have drained from Ron's face; he looks like he's seen a ghost. Gaping a little, eyes wide in what looks like panic, he clears his throat and says, "I think we should go."

But luck is not on Ron's side, because either Fred or George—[Y/N] can't really tell which one—turns around, and at the sight of their younger brother, beams widely and exclaims, "Ron! Fancy seeing you here, dear brother!"

"Fred," says Ron through gritted teeth, and then, once the other twin has turned around, "George."

"Shopping for sweets, aren't we?" grins George. 

And then, seemingly at the same time, their gazes land on [Y/N], who stands at Ron's side, amused. An identical flicker of surprise crosses the both of their faces before Fred manages to say, with his eyes darting between the two of them, "Is this what I think it is?" 

"Oh, my." George’s mouth has fallen open in an incredulous laugh. "Is ickle-Ronniekins on a date? with [Y/F/N], no less?"

[Y/N] side-eyes Ron to see that he has tensed and is glancing around as though in search for the nearest exit. She scoffs a little at the twins, and, sending them an exasperated look, scolds them by saying, "Oh, leave 'Ronniekins’ alone. He’s been nothing but sweet the entire day."

Their grins grow even wider. "Isn’t that right?" says Fred, tone still teasing. "Well, I must say: We're proud of you, Ronniekins. See you've finally found it in you to ask out the girl you've been obsessing over for two whole years now."

[Y/N]'s eyebrows rise up in intrigue. Ron's cheeks, meanwhile, flush an even darker shade of red. "I'm not—" he begins.

"And since you two are together—"

"We’re not—" Ron tries again. 

"—you ought to start teaching him how to play Quidditch, [Y/N], you being a Hufflepuff chaser and all," Fred continues smoothly. Up ahead by the cashier, someone has successfully made their purchase; the twins take a step back, moving up the line without even looking behind them. "Ron’s planning on trying out for the Gryffindor team next year, you see."

"What the—how do you know that?” Ron gapes. 

"We’d teach him ourselves," says George, sighing, "But Ron's temper is a little—ah—"

"Fiery?" Fred suggests.

"Let’s just say one time he grabbed my Beater bat in mid-air and whacked me upside the head with it."

An amused laugh leaves [Y/N]'s lips before she can even think about suppressing it. "Is that true, Ron?" she says, tone playfully scolding.

Ron rolls his eyes, grumbling, "That was after they jinxed my broom to let out farting noises every five seconds."

Another laugh. "Interesting," she hums. "Well, thanks for the tip, you two." And then, narrowing her eyes at them good-naturedly, "I’ll be sure to teach your brother Quidditch—with a method that doesn’t involve farting jinxes, of course."

Fred and George beam. They’re up next in line. "I bagsy best man at your wedding," Fred announces, swiveling around to face the cashier.

"No, I do—" argues George, turning around to pile up the sweets in his arms on the counter. 

Moments later, the twins are waving their goodbyes, all the while dramatically sobbing into their hands and saying something about their little brother growing up too fast. Fred pats [Y/N] on the shoulder as he passes by, saying in a hushed voice that he'd totally meant for Ron to hear, "Take care of ickle-Ronniekins for us."

And then [Y/N] and Ron are left in the Honeydukes shop, Ron with a flushed face and [Y/N] heavily amused. "That was.." she exhales, laughing as she slides her box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans across the counter. "Quite something. Are they always like that?"

"Every bloody waking moment," complains Ron, shoulders sagging as he practically deflates against the counter, leaning his hip on it. "Sorry about them, they're.."

"A bit much?”

"That’s an understatement," Ron comments, obviously still spiteful.

"Did you really hit your brother with his own bat?" she glances at him, eyes alight with genuine curiosity as she takes the paper Honeydukes bag from the shopkeeper with a polite "thank you". 

Making their way to the exit, Ron nods, his own eyes shining with a kind of fieriness that [Y/N] can't help but laugh at. Passionately, he says, "And I’d do it again."

She starts chortling at this, walking through the door as Ron holds it open for her. “Interesting group of brothers, you all are," she enthuses, smiling at him somewhat sympathetically once her giggles have faded. It’s still snowing outside; she pulls the ends of her scarf tighter around her neck.

[Y/N] purses her lips, falling quiet for a moment as though pondering over something, and then, her lips tugging up at the edges, she looks up at him and asks, "And have you really been obsessing over me for two years?"

Ron's eyes grow wide and they skirt away almost immediately, hand flying up to scratch the back of his neck like some sort of defense mechanism. "I—I don't—" he sputters out," I mean—not obsessed—" and then he pauses, as though to start over. Shoulders deflating, he mutters, eyes still downcast, "I've.. always found you really pretty, is all."

[Y/N] scuffles her feet against the ground. The smile tugging on her lips is far too insistent, so she just lets herself succumb to it and grin down at her shoes before she looks up at him, eyes alight with mirth, and says, "It's fine, Ron. That's really sweet of you." And because she has a feeling he doesn't want to talk about his—erm—feelings anymore, she asks, "Do you want to go into the Three Broomsticks next? Grab some butterbeer, maybe?"

Ron nods. But his eyes don’t fail to catch onto the way she’s rubbing her naked hands together—she’d forgotten her gloves. He doesn’t pause to ask and instead takes off his own immediately, handing them to her without quite meeting her eyes.

Despite the rush of gratitude this tiny act gives her (and the butterflies it lets loose in her stomach), she holds her palms out at Ron in a stopping gesture, hurriedly saying, “Oh, no—keep them, Ron, your hands will get cold—“

“Just take them,” Ron says, still abashed. “Can’t have you freezing to death.”

She pauses, another fond smile tugging on the corners of her lips, and then exhales defeatedly and takes the gloves from him, putting them on. “Well, I doubt I’d freeze to death,” she mutters, “but thank you.” Once the gloves have fitted snugly around her hands, she looks up at Ron, smiling softly, and says, “Ready to go, then?”

“Yeah, let’s—oh, blimey. I forgot. Wait here!”

Before [Y/N] even begins to register his words, Ron has disappeared and is dashing back into Honeydukes, leaving her standing outside, bewildered.

Isn’t he something else—leaving his date behind, alone in the snow. [Y/N] can’t help but laugh, giggling to herself as she clamps her hand over her mouth, earning strange looks from Hogwarts students passing by. 

Ron Weasley is awkward and a bit of a mess around her, but [Y/N] finds that it’s quite adorable. And it’s certainly an assurance to know that she’s not the only one venturing into unknown territory—this is her first date, after all. And to be completely honest, she’s enjoying it. Initially she thought she’d be having too hard of a time dealing with Ron’s overbearing awkwardness, but it’s quite the opposite, as she’s grown fond both of it and of him in general.

And that fondness only multiplies when Ron bumbles out of the Honeydukes shop a few minutes later, holding an entire block of wrapped chocolate in his hands, which he hands to her.

“Thought you might like it,” he says, abashed, only managing to hold her gaze for a few moments before his eyes are darting away again. “Would’ve bought it earlier.. got distracted..”

[Y/N] tells herself that the pink blush that is no doubt spreading across her cheeks is most definitely because of the cold and not because of a certain Ron Weasley.

Feeling a thousand things all at once—all of which (so be it) have something to do with Ron—she smiles, all crinkled eyes and dimpled cheeks, and stands on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

Flushing, she pulls away. This time she’s not quite meeting his gaze, either, as she says, “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Without waiting for a response, she scurries away, cheeks a blazing shade of red as Ron stands there, hand coming up to brush against the spot on his cheek where she’d kissed him.