It had started with little things. A chocolate frog slipped into your bag before class, a daisy clumsily tucked behind your ear during a walk around the lake, a hastily folded paper crane charmed to flap its wings. Ron had never been one for grand, expensive gestures—he simply couldn’t afford them—but that didn’t stop him from giving.

You had long since noticed the way he’d scowl at his own empty pockets, frustration flickering in his blue eyes whenever he saw something he thought you’d like but couldn’t buy. And yet, he still found ways to give you gifts, small tokens that meant more than any galleon ever could.

Tonight, it was a knitted scarf—maroon and gold, the Gryffindor colors slightly uneven in some places. He shuffled awkwardly as he handed it to you in the common room, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Mum taught me how to knit over the summer,” he admitted, avoiding your gaze. “Figured I’d try making something for you. It’s, uh… not perfect, but it’ll keep you warm.”

You smiled, running your fingers over the slightly lumpy stitches. It was far from perfect—but that was exactly why it was perfect. It was Ron, through and through.

“You made this for me?” you asked softly, touched by the effort.

Ron shrugged, his ears burning red. “Yeah, well… ‘Course I did. You’re my girl.”

You didn’t need expensive jewelry or fancy things. Ron gave what he could, and that was more than enough.