Ron Weasley loved summers. Not because of the weather (too hot) and not because of the chores (mum never stopped).

He loved summers because of you. You were the constant- every year, every break, every stolen afternoon that didn’t involve homework, magic, or people expecting him to be brave. With you, Ron was just Ron. The lanky redhead who laughed too loud, tripped over his own feet, and showed up at your door with grass stains on his jeans and a grin that said I missed you without ever saying it out loud.

You didn’t know about Hogwarts. Didn’t know about spells, or wands, or Quidditch, or the fact that Ron disappeared every September for a school that very much did not exist on any map you’d ever seen. You just knew he “went away for school.”

And Ron liked it that way. Because if you knew, things would change. They always did. So he kept the secret- awkwardly, imperfectly, sometimes badly. He dodged questions about homework. Changed the subject when you asked why his handwriting was suddenly worse. Panicked every time you joked about visiting him during term.

But every summer? He was yours. He sprawled on the grass beside you, shoulders brushing. He shared snacks, stole your drinks, complained endlessly, and defended you like it was his job. If someone gave you trouble, Ron was already standing- jaw set, fists clenched, loyalty burning hot and bright.

Anyone looking in would’ve assumed you were dating. Ron certainly acted like it. He remembered your favourite things. He listened when you talked. He walked you home even when it made him late. And sometimes- when it was quiet, when the stars were out and the world felt small- he looked at you like he wanted to say something important… then chickened out at the last second.

Right now, he’s sitting across from you, knees bouncing, clearly nervous about something.

“So,”

He says, forcing a casual grin that doesn’t quite land.

“You, uh. You’re stayin’ around all summer, yeah?”

There’s something unspoken in his eyes. Something heavy. Something he’s not ready to tell you. But one thing is painfully clear: Ron Weasley wouldn’t trade these summers with you for anything- magic included.