Title: Honest mistake

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Published: 13 April 2021

Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore

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Winning a quidditch match meant one thing and one thing only. Teenagers drunkenly stumbling around the castle trying not to be caught by Filch and Mrs. Norris. It was a hard task, one that many failed to achieve. But you seemed to be on the right path as you hid in empty classrooms, behind statues and hidden passages. You were on your way to the Gryffindor common room to continue the party, you simply slipped out to help your friend going back to the Ravenclaw common room after she had decided that clumsily undressing herself on a table would be the best way to entertain the rest of the school. Although she was somewhat comical, you couldn't let her go through with it, so there you were, trying to sneak back in.

Luckily the corridor leading to the Gryffindor tower was empty, no sign of Filch or his cat, but you still kept the noise of your shoes as faint as you could possibly manage. You quickly whispered the password to the Fat Lady, who opened the door for you, although murmuring something under her breath that you couldn't quite catch.

"Finally, where were you?" George slurred as he threw his arm around your shoulder, his scent of alcohol immediately hitting your nostrils.

"You smell like fire-whiskey, George," you grimaced as you removed his arm from your shoulder.

"It's the smell of adulthood," he shouted after you, but you didn't even acknowledge that you heard his drunken rumbling. You looked around searching for your cousin, Angelina, who previously tried to get you as drunk as she was, unsuccessfully. Drinking wasn't something you enjoyed, and it wasn't because of the taste of alcohol, but because it felt like you lost control over yourself and that wasn't something you enjoyed. You liked to be in control one way or another.

As you tried to push past the sea of people, you caught sight of Angelina, but she seemed to be rather occupied by Fred Weasley's lips. Rolling your eyes, you turned around, searching for some better company. There was one particular ginger boy you were interested in finding, but you couldn't see him anywhere nor did you see his friends. Hermione, Harry and Ron were glued by the hips as far as you saw and when one was gone so were the others.

Giving up on your search you flopped down on an empty armchair, not far from Fred and Angelina, who seemed to have better things to do than realise your presence. The sound of their saliva exchange seemed to bother you the longer you sat in your spot and by the time Angelina slipped into Fred's lap, you couldn't handle it anymore. The definition of control was something you just wanted to forget as the whole Gryffindor common room was a mess of drunkenly stumbling kids with no self-control. You couldn't handle the sight, the noises, the crowd, you reached for the lonely bottle of fire-whiskey on the table and chugged a good shot down your throat.

Inevitably you started coughing, your body's reaction to the unusual substance was obvious rejection, making you feel like you were about the throw up. Taking slow, deep breaths however seemed to have worked as the alcohol stayed down and after taking a second and third round, your body got used to the feeling. The room started heating up and you felt your cheeks flush, your ears burn as though someone changed the temperature in the room. But you weren't naive, you knew it was simply the effects of the alcohol.

"Someone changed her mind about alcohol," Angelina quipped as she finally parted from Fred. You didn't even realise when the smooching sound has stopped, but it felt calm and somewhat pure again, regardless of all the drunk, dumb teenagers crowding the room.

"I couldn't handle the atmosphere anymore," you replied in a dry tone.

"Or?" she raised a questioning brow, a rather suspicious smile spread across her face.

"Or what?" you squinted with a deep frown across your brows, trying to understand her indications.

"You know, liquid courage," she winked playfully, but her words meant nothing to you.

"I have no idea what you are on about. What would I need courage for?" You grimaced, scrunching your nose in the process.

"Obviously to ask Ron out," she deadpanned you as if her statement was natural.

"Hold on a minute, you have a crush on my brother?" Fred quipped in with a wide grin on his face, one that didn't indicate you were about to get out of this uncomfortable situation any time soon.

"Oh, she is head over heels for him," Angelina laughed, slightly tilting her head back, holding onto her stomach. You didn't find the situation quite as funny as she did, but it might have been because of the difference in the amount of alcohol you both consumed.

"So, when are you going to confess?" Fred asked with a humorous tone to his voice. Although you expected to be made fun of, it felt wrong that they found your feelings for the youngest Weasley brother comical. Watching him for years, yearning to be close to him and being swept aside to be stuck in only a friendship with him was beyond hard for you to handle and now that two people who were close to you made fun of you certainly didn't help your unfortunate case.

"I'm glad you are enjoying the situation," you huffed, trying to divert your attention from the couple, indicating that you didn't find their presence interesting any longer.

"Oh, come on, we were just joking around," Fred added upon seeing how uncomfortable he'd made you. But there was no reply, you didn't even spare a glance at him. Fred heaved a heavy sigh and stood up, stumbling over to you and taking a seat on the arm of your chair. "Listen to me, my brother is a complete idiot for not realising your feelings, and I'm an idiot for making fun of you too, but it's in our blood, maybe he just needs a little nudge," he grinned proudly as if his idea was some sort of newfound solution. But in reality, you have tried to nudge the boy so many times, giving him hints, staying close to him as much as you could, but he remained blind to your feelings.

"If I nudge him anymore, I might as well push him down a hill," you added bitterly, making Fred snort.

"I think our mother would have a say in that, but whatever you feel comfortable with," he kept chuckling as he walked back to Angelina and captured her lips again. You never meant to be bitter about other couples, you didn't want to be jealous, but watching them embracing each other made you feel useless for once. You stood up from the couch, securing your firm grip around the bottle of fire-whiskey as you stumbled around the room, not even trying to control your own body's reaction to the alcohol. At that moment you just didn't care anymore.

"Hey, we were looking for you," you heard Hermione's voice from across the room faintly. It took you a good few seconds to find her as you glanced around the room in anticipation, hoping the ginger boy was close by. As you caught a glimpse of Hermione's bushy hair with Ron and Harry on each of her sides, you cut through the crowd, halting in front of the trio.

"So was I. Where were you?" You questioned as you tried to catch Ron's eyes, but he found his shoes more interesting than your presence. You heaved a heavy sigh, one that has been an hourly occurrence around the boy, each time destroying just a little more of the hope you still harboured for the slightest of chance that you might just have a tiny chance with the boy.

"Ron got a bit too drunk," Harry huffed in an annoyed tone.

"As if," Ron quipped in, his cheeks crimson red, his words slurred. You found his pouting adorable, and you could barely contain the small smile threatening to grow wider.

"He confessed his undying love to me," Harry added with a deadpan expression.

"I didn't see that it was you," Ron added in haste, trying to save himself from further embarrassment.

"You were looking straight into my eyes whilst you did so. So, whether you really are in love with me, or you have had way too much to drink. Your choice," Harry raised a questioning brow, waiting for his friend to reply.

"Well, I'm certainly not in love with you," he huffed.

"Then I guess you are drunk, what a surprise," Harry retorted, making you giggle.

"Whatever," Ron shrugged, heading towards an empty sofa and dropping down on it.

"Can you pay attention to him until I get some food and water for him from the kitchen?" Hermione asked with an exhausted expression and you could just imagine the amount of effort it took her not to strangle her drunk friend.

"Of course, but hurry back. He needs to just sleep it off," you told her as she nodded and walked past you with Harry in her steps.

You walked over to the couch, looking at the boy, his limbs spread all over the cushions, his eyes closed, clearly in need of a good sleep. "Don't worry, Hermione and Harry will be back soon and then you can go upstairs," you tried to reassure him as you sat down beside him.

His eyes opened and effortlessly stared at you, making you feel as though you were tiny under his intense gaze. You attempted to turn away, but his blue eyes completely captured you and as much as you tried, you couldn't get yourself to take your eyes off him. Gulping loudly, you shifted deeper into your spot, feeling as though it would be better to disappear.

"You're fairly pretty, you know?" He asked with a lopsided grin, his confidence surprising you.

"Excuse me?" You asked, fearing you have heard him wrong.

"You're quite pretty," he repeated himself as he leaned closer, this time making sure you heard him well. His cheeks were slightly blushed, his freckles scattered all over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

"Qu—quiet? What does that even mean? Am I supposed to feel happy and take it as a compliment or were you trying to insult me?" You chuckled awkwardly, although you were rather happy both as a result of the bottle of fire-whiskey you were still holding on to and the compliment or so that you have received from Ron for the first time.

"Well, I mean— I can't just walk up to you and confess my love for you, can I?" He snorted, laughing at himself, but you didn't find his words funny. You were stunned, your smile disappeared and there was only one thing going through your mind. How sincere he was. "You would kill me if you realised how much I loved you," he added, surprising you even more. Trying to control your heartbeat, you took deep breaths, but it didn't seem to help. His words affected you both physically and emotionally. Your cheeks felt as though they were burning, your breathing was irregular, and you could physically feel your blood pulsing through your veins whilst your brain didn't seem to process his words.

"What did you just say?" You asked, needing reassurance.

"I said you would murder me if I told you how much I loved you and I can't risk that," he slurred, his eyes closed once again, feeling tired from the amount of alcohol he has consumed throughout the night.

"Ronald, you just have," you tried to reason with him, a small smile hiding in the corner of your lips, his confession making you feel content. It did run across your mind that it was the alcohol talking, but in the end, you just ignored the voices, because alcohol or not, no sane person would make such a silly mistake.

"No, I haven't. You might have a hearing problem," he replied cluelessly, shrugging his shoulder. You found his state rather funny, so you decided to push him.

"So, you don't like me?" You asked, raising your brows curiously.

"Wait what?" he asked as though he finally realised something was wrong. His adam's apple bopped firmly as he swallowed, his palms sweating in his nervous state. "I—you are my friend, of course, I like you," he tried to save the situation.

"Then you won't mind if I leave you here and go and dance with other people. You wouldn't mind a bit," you questioned with a rather proud smile.

"Erm— I'm your friend and I don't feel well," he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, trying to keep his hands occupied. "As a friend it wouldn't be nice of you if you left me like this," he added, nodding along to his clever thinking.

"Okay, but after you have gone to sleep, it would be perfectly fine if I danced with others, right? You wouldn't be jealous," you asked with an innocent smile. Ron was clearly searching for the right words, but they just didn't come.

"If— if that makes you happy, sure, go ahead," he nodded along awkwardly, confused about his own words. You couldn't stop the silent giggle from leaving your lips as you leaned closer and kissed the corner of his lips.

"I like you too, Ronald," you chuckled at his cheeks taking on an even darker shade of pink and the surprise sitting across his face.

"Hey, we are back, let's get you up," Harry added as he appeared in the crowd with Hermione following him behind. "Are you okay?" Harry asked, looking at his friend who still looked at you as though he had seen a ghost.

"He is just tired," you replied instead of him with a proud smile.

"Come on," Harry stepped closer, hooking his arm around Ron's body, placing his arm around his own shoulder.

"I meant it," you quickly said causing Hermione and Harry to frown, but Ron understood. A wide grin spread across his face as he tried to balance himself.

"So did I," he chuckled and leaned closer, hinting a small kiss on your forehead. "Hopefully I won't be dead tomorrow and we can actually sit down and talk without me feeling like a rag doll," he laughed, and you couldn't stop yourself from returning his expression.

"I'd certainly love that," you offered him a sweet smile as he nodded and stumbled across the common room with Harry's help.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked with a deep frown, for the first time feeling completely clueless.

"I guess you will just have to wait to find out," you giggled as you headed towards the dormitory, shoving the bottle of whiskey into George's hand. You left the loud crowd and walked up the stairs to your room, with a wide grin across your face, impatiently waiting to wake up even though you weren't even asleep just yet. 

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