Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The common room was buzzing with the usual late-night chatter, students lounging around the fire, unwinding after a long day. Y/N had settled into their favorite armchair near the hearth, half-listening to the soft murmur of conversations around them while flipping through a book. The warmth of the fire was comforting, but nothing could ease the anticipation bubbling in their chest.
They hadn't seen Ron since dinner, and he had been unusually quiet during the meal. That meant one of two things—either something had gone wrong during Quidditch practice, or Snape had given him a particularly hard time in Potions. Knowing Ron, it was probably both.
Y/N barely had time to think before the portrait hole swung open, and in stomped Ron Weasley, his face flushed red, his hair even more of a mess than usual. He grumbled something under his breath, making a beeline for the couch across from Y/N.
"Bloody brilliant," he muttered as he collapsed onto the couch, throwing his bag on the floor with an exasperated sigh.
Y/N couldn't help but smile. "Rough day, Weasley?"
Ron let out a groan, dragging his hands down his face. "Understatement of the century. Snape's a complete git, honestly. Gave me a right lecture for adding the boomslang skin too early—like it wasn't already too late to fix it! And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, Fred and George have been giving me a hard time because we've got a match against Hufflepuff this weekend. I swear, it's like I can't win!"
Y/N closed their book, unable to hide their amusement. "Sounds like a disaster."
Ron shot them a mock glare, though his lips twitched upward. "Oh, laugh it up, why don't you? I swear, one of these days, Snape's going to drive me mad."
Y/N chuckled, leaning forward in their chair. "You know you'll survive it, Ron. You always do."
Ron grumbled something unintelligible, his cheeks still flushed with frustration, but Y/N noticed the way his expression softened ever so slightly at their words. There was something about Ron's honesty—his raw, unapologetic frustration with everything from school to Quidditch—that always made Y/N feel more grounded. He never pretended to be anything other than who he was, and they loved that about him.
"Anyway," Ron sighed dramatically, leaning back into the couch, "enough about that. What about you? How was your day? Hopefully better than mine, because, honestly, it couldn't get much worse."
Y/N smiled softly, shaking their head. "Nothing too exciting. Just the usual classes. Oh, and I heard Fred and George might be planning something for the match this weekend."
Ron groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Please, no. I don't need them making things worse. I've got enough on my plate with Quidditch as it is. I swear, sometimes I think they're trying to sabotage me."
