Harry Potter Imagines

[Rons Sister]

A/N: This was a request from a comment
and honestly it's one of my favourites 😂

There were a lot of things you'd gotten used to at Hogwarts—moving staircases, temperamental ghosts, the occasional Weasley prank gone wrong.

But nothing could've prepared you for how often Harry Potter made your heart skip a beat.

It wasn't even the big things. It was the little ones. How he always waited up for you in the common room after a long Prefect meeting. The way he smiled when you made a sarcastic comment under your breath in class. How he always saved you a spot at the table, always noticed when something was bothering you—even when no one else did.

You were best friends. That's what you told yourself.

Even if every time he said your name in that quiet voice, your stomach turned into a flock of hippogriffs.

Even if you had to pretend you didn't notice the way he looked at you sometimes—like he wanted to say something but couldn't.

And the reason was obvious: Ron.

Ron was your brother. And Harry was Ron's best mate. Which made this whole mutual pining thing feel like breaking a sacred, ancient law of the "Bro Code."

But the feelings weren't going anywhere. Not anymore.

Which was how you ended up alone with Harry on a lazy Saturday afternoon, in a hidden nook behind the library that Hermione had shown you in first year. A perfect little stone alcove with worn cushions and enchanted candles floating lazily overhead.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, Harry across from you, fiddling nervously with the hem of his hoodie.

It had started casual—talking about classes, Quidditch, your Transfiguration homework. But then there'd been a lull. A silence that stretched longer than usual. A silence charged with something... more.

Harry looked up. "Y/N... can I tell you something?"

You blinked. "Of course."

He swallowed, eyes locking onto yours. "You're Ron's sister."

You raised an eyebrow. "I am, yes. Have been my whole life."

He smiled briefly, nervously. "Right. That's—yeah, I know. It's just... that's why I've never said anything. Because you're Ron's sister. And I'm his best mate. And it felt like—if I told you, it would break some unspoken rule."

Your breath caught.

"Harry..." you said softly, your voice barely audible.

"But I like you. I really like you. And I've tried to pretend I don't. But I can't anymore."

He looked wrecked saying it—scared out of his mind—but relieved too, like a weight had finally lifted.

You stared at him, heart racing. "You're not the only one who's been pretending."

His eyes widened.

"I've liked you for ages, Harry," you whispered. "I just thought... you'd never go for your best friend's sister."

And that was it. That was all it took.

He leaned in. So did you.

The kiss was warm and gentle, full of everything unsaid. His hand came up to rest against your cheek, yours tangling in his messy hair. The world outside the alcove faded completely. It felt like a dream—finally real.

And then—

BANG.

The door slammed open so violently it rattled the walls. You and Harry broke apart like you'd been struck by lightning.

"Hey, have either of you—" there, in the doorway, Ron froze, words dying mid-sentence. Mouth open. Eyes wild. Holding a half-eaten Chocolate Frog like it was frozen in time.

He blinked.

You blinked.

Harry looked like he was about to be sick.

Ron took one step inside, his jaw slowly dropping as his gaze flicked from you, to Harry, to your very obvious flushed faces and awkward distance.

"What the BLOODY HELL is this?!" His voice cracked, and you almost laughed.

You stood up quickly, cheeks blazing. "Ron—!"

He dropped the Chocolate Frog. "ARE YOU SNOGGING MY SISTER?!"

Harry, pale as Nearly Headless Nick, stammered, "Ron—it's not—well—it is—but not like—!"

"NOT LIKE WHAT?! YOU SLIPPED AND FELL ON HER LIPS?!"

You tried to intervene. "Ron, calm down—"

"I AM CALM! THIS IS ME CALM!" His face was turning the same shade as his hair. "I walk in here thinking I'm gonna ask if either of you fancy going to Hogsmeade next weekend and instead I walk in on THIS! THIS IS BETRAYAL! THIS IS—TREASON! THIS IS—"

He stopped mid-sentence, jaw working furiously.

Then he made a strangled noise and did a very odd little spin on the spot, like his brain was buffering.

Finally, he jabbed a finger dramatically at the door he had just entered through. "I'M LEAVING. THIS IS TOO MUCH. I'M GOING TO HERMIONE. SHE'LL KNOW WHAT TO DO."

And with one final glare at Harry—who looked like he was about to faint—Ron stormed out of the alcove with all the fury of a howler.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Harry ran a hand down his face. "I'm going to die. He's going to kill me. He's going to make it look like an accident, and I'll be a tragic footnote in the Prophet."

You sat down beside him again, dazed. Then you started laughing. Loudly.

Harry gawked at you. "How are you laughing right now?!"

"Because..." you said between giggles, "...that was the most dramatic thing I've ever seen. Did you see his face? He looked like he'd swallowed a live Bludger."

Harry groaned and dropped his head to your shoulder.

After a moment, he murmured, "It was worth it, though."

You smiled, resting your head against his.

"Yeah. It really was."