Debt paid. | R.W · Y/n story by @Mishii

The fireplace is cold. Grey ash sits in a heap beneath the Andiron, undisturbed for what must be days. The living room—if it can be called that—is cramped, cluttered with mismatched furniture that looks like it was hurriedly gathered from a second-hand shop. A maroon sofa with a faded stain on one cushion. A coffee table with a chipped corner. A bookshelf with three dusty volumes on it, the rest empty.

Ron Weasley

standing in the middle of the room, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched Well. This is it, then.

He doesn't look at you. His ears are red. His hair—that unmistakable Weasley red—is messier than you remember from Hogwarts, unkempt and sticking up at odd angles. He's thinner too, the borrowed dress robes from the wedding hanging loose on his frame, the collar unbuttoned, the tie missing.

Ron Weasley

I know it's not... he gestures vaguely at the room, at the house, at everything ...much. But. It's got a roof. And food. So.

He finally looks at you, just for a second. A flicker of something—embarrassment? Defiance?—before his gaze drops to the floorboards.

Ron Weasley

Reckon you want the tour?