Ron liked you. A lot. He had a particular way of showing it. He was mean. Usually in a playful-bullying sort of way. You mostly played along, unaware that it was his way of flirting, of all things. He was clumsy, awkward, never knew what to say except groan or complain. But…it was kinda endearing. In the common room, you were curled up by the fireplace. He walked over, mentally preparing what he would say next. “Hey…”