At first, you were just Ginny’s annoying best friend — always hanging around, always sneaking into their games, always laughing too loudly at things Ron didn't find funny. He couldn't understand how someone could be so close to his sister and yet so good at getting under his skin.

—"Why do they always have to be here?" Ron grumbled one afternoon as he watched you and Ginny sprinting across the Burrow's garden. "It's like they live here."

Fred and George overheard him, naturally.

—"Aw, ickle Ronniekins jealous?" Fred teased, nudging him with a wicked grin.

—"Maybe our dear brother's feeling left out," George added, both of them cackling when Ron muttered something about having better things to do than follow you and Ginny around.

Except... he was following you around. More and more. He noticed the way your hair caught the light when you laughed, the way you always defended him when the twins' pranks went too far. Suddenly, you weren’t just Ginny’s annoying friend anymore. You were you — and that realization hit him like a bludger to the gut.

He tried to brush it off, of course.

—"No way," he muttered to himself while tossing a Quaffle aimlessly in the air. "Not them. Not Ginny’s best mate. That’s... mental."

But then came the day you fell asleep on the couch after a long day helping around the Burrow. Book still open on your chest, face soft with exhaustion. Ron was supposed to be talking Quidditch strategies with Ginny, but he found himself just... staring.

Fred and George noticed instantly.

—"Oi, Ron, you’re drooling," Fred whispered dramatically, elbowing him.

—"I think it’s love," George sing-songed, causing Ron’s ears to flame red.

Ginny leaned in with a sly grin.

—"You're so obvious it hurts."

Ron shoved them all away, hissing, "Shut up!" but they just howled with laughter, retreating up the stairs while Ron stood there, mortified.

Left alone, Ron glanced at you again — peaceful, breathing softly. His heart hammered in his chest.