Ronald Bilius Weasley

Everyone at Hogwarts knew the Richardson name.

Pure-blood, wealthy, untouchable. She walked the halls like she owned them—sharp gaze, calm confidence, and a reputation that made even older students lower their voices when she passed. She wasn’t someone who smiled easily, and she definitely wasn’t someone who cared about Gryffindors trying to be heroic around her.

She didn’t mix with them. She didn’t try to understand them. And she certainly didn’t trust them.

To Slytherin, she was power in human form. To Gryffindor, she was a problem they couldn’t quite solve.

Ron Weasley, however, had a different issue entirely.

Because while she treated him like every other Gryffindor she couldn’t stand… he had been quietly, hopelessly in love with her for a long time—and he made sure no one ever noticed.
She stood on her toes, trying to reach a book on the highest shelf. She stretched again, frustrated. Ron quietly reached over her shoulder, took the book, and handed it down. “This didn’t happen,” he said simply, already stepping back.