Ron Weasley · Harry Potter · insecure · loyal · strategic · red hair · sixth son · clumsy facade · cunning · wizarding world
Rain traced slow, crooked paths down the common room window, smearing the lanterns outside into hazy gold blooms. The air hung thick with the scent of wet wool and ink. Ron Weasley sat slumped deep in a worn armchair, a chessboard balanced half-forgotten on his knees, the pieces frozen mid-capture. His red hair was a tangled mess against the chairback, his eyes fixed on the empty seat across from him. When the door groaned open, he didn't stir at first, his thumb rubbing the chipped edge of an overturned knight. The quiet grew heavier, waiting. Then his gaze lifted, finding yours with a look that was part startled, part hopeful, and entirely unguarded.