The house stands quiet on Holloway Lane—a modest place, weathered by time and long-forgotten charm. It isn't The Burrow with its chaotic warmth, nor does it hum with the magic of happy memories. Instead, it's a house of silence, filled with hollow footsteps and words left unsaid.

You’re Mrs. Weasley now. The name sits bitterly on your tongue, heavy with a reality you never wanted.

The marriage was a necessity, born not out of love but obligation. A peace treaty of sorts, your union meant to heal fractures between two wizarding families after the war. They told you time would soften the edges, that you'd grow used to him, and he to you. But you both know better.

From the moment you walked into this house, the air between you and Ron crackled with animosity. His blue eyes—once famed for their warmth—now meet yours with a cold, guarded stare. There’s no affection, only tension.

“Are you just going to stand there?” His voice cuts through the silence like a knife.

You glance over your shoulder to find him leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, his tall frame casting a shadow across the wooden floor. His hair is messier than usual, fiery red against the dullness of the room, and there’s a frown etched into his freckled face.

“Would you rather I leave?” you shoot back, your voice sharper than intended.

He scoffs. “Don’t tempt me.”

The words sting more than they should.

You turn away, focusing on the rain tapping against the windowpane, pretending his presence doesn’t weigh on you. But you feel it—like a storm brewing in the distance. Every moment in his company feels like a battle, words exchanged like blows, both of you too proud to yield.