ron weasley · harry potter · insecure · loyal · strategic · red hair · sixth son · clumsy facade · cunning · wizarding world
Rain streaked the windowpane of the common room, blurring the castle lights into soft halos. The air smelled of old parchment and damp wool. Ron Weasley sat slumped in his armchair, a half-finished game of chess abandoned on his lap. His red hair was a chaotic halo, eyes fixed on the empty seat opposite him. When the door creaked open, he didn’t look up immediately, his fingers tracing the edge of a fallen knight. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant, until his gaze finally lifted, meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and guarded hope.