𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

bloody dress robes (r.w)

Bill and Fleur's wedding leaves Ron in yet another pair of hand-me-down dress robes.

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 411

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"Bloody dress robes," Ron huffed, toying with the frilly fabric around his neck. He stared at his reflection, clearly disgusted by the faint smell of moldy vegetables that seeped through the seams.

Bill and Fleur's wedding was short-noticed, to put it lightly, as the couple hurried to solidify their love before all hell broke loose. It left Mrs. Weasley in a panic as she frantically rushed to make everything perfect. She had sent Ron on his way after nailing down the tent, insisting that the robes she laid out would suit him perfectly.

"You ready, love?" you knocked, carefully stepping into the room. You locked eyes with his through the mirror before studying your surroundings. Three pairs of shoes were thrown across the floor, neither one matching the other. His bed — patched and unmade — was piled in colourful button-ups. They were rather large as they stretched across half his bedspread. You assumed they were stolen from the twins.

He was clearly keen on wearing anything but his father's old suit.

You smiled meekly as you approached him, wrapping your arms around his middle from behind. He leaned into you, glaring daggers at the collar peeking through his vest.

"It's not all that bad," you reasoned, avoiding the poorly fastened tie that lay on his chest. The suit had actually fit him quite well. ‌Still, it was hard to miss the checkered print.

"Dad claims that this was the look back in his day," Ron groaned, roughly scratching below the lace. "How do I tell him that it is no longer his day?"

"Oh, Ron," you giggled, "He means well."

Ron groaned, "I look like a bloody chess board."

His eyes suddenly raked over your figure, causing his frown to deepen.

"You are stunning," he breathed, peering down at the tear in his shoe with a grimace. "You sure you wanna attend with a bloke like me?"

"Of course I want to go with you," you spoke, turning him to face away from the mirror. ‌His‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌were‌ ‌searching‌ ‌yours, as though he hoped you were being truthful.

"Love, this —" you grabbed hold of his tie, beginning to carefully pull it shut, "— does not define you."

You softly brushed through his hair, causing the front to ruffle just the way you liked.

"You know, you are the only one who could ever pull this off."

He giggled, causing you to follow along.

"Plus — nothing can top the yule ball."

You stifled your laughter, but let it free the moment he released his. This was the boy you knew and loved.

"Fleur is waiting for me," you smiled, pressing a kiss to his rosy cheek. "I'll meet you outside?"

"See you soon," he pulled you closer, embracing you in one last hug before ‌sending you on your way.

"Thanks for putting up with me, love."