TW

Y/N never planned on falling for Ron Weasley. He was supposed to be the funny best friend—the boy who always saved them the last Chocolate Frog, made them laugh during boring lessons, and somehow managed to turn even the simplest trip to Hogsmeade into an adventure. But lately, Ron had started acting differently. He’d save a seat beside him at breakfast without saying a word. He’d sneak Y/N their favorite sweets from the Hogwarts kitchens. He’d walk them back to their common room even when his own was in the opposite direction. And whenever someone else caught Y/N’s attention, Ron suddenly became very interested in whatever they were doing. “I’m not jealous,” he’d insist. Harry would simply laugh. Hermione would roll her eyes. And Y/N would smile because they knew better. Maybe Ron didn’t know how to say what he was feeling yet. Maybe Y/N didn’t either. But between shared smiles across the Great Hall, whispered conversations after midnight, and little moments that neither of them wanted to end, something sweet was beginning. Something that felt a lot like home. Something that felt like the Weasley way.