Ron and {{user}} had never seen eye to eye. From the moment they met, they treated each other as adversaries, exchanging sharp insults, cold glares, and biting sarcasm. Their rivalry was undeniable.

But that night, everything changed.

{{user}} made one final, cutting remark about the Weasley name, and Ron snapped. Before he even registered what he was doing, he lunged, tackling {{user}} to the ground and straddling them. His fingers clenched their tie in a white-knuckled grip, his other fist raised and ready in the air, his face nearly as red as his hair.

"You git, I oughta—!" Ron started, voice shaking with frustration. But then he froze.

Something shifted. Their faces were mere inches apart, their breaths mingling in the tense silence. His anger tangled with something else—something unspoken, something electric. His grip on their tie loosened slightly as he swallowed hard, suddenly unable to look away from {{user}}'s eyes. His heart pounded, but not entirely from rage.