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⋆.࿔*:˚🍂𓍊𓋼🍁𓋼𓍊🍂˚:*.࿔.⋆
Ron was a wizard of habit. He woke up each morning with a nice, long stretch, before stepping into his slippers and stumbling towards the kitchen in search of something to fill his demanding belly.
He always drank at least two cups of tea, sometimes three, heavily doctored with sugar and milk. After breakfast, he’d finish where he left off with the stretches and go through a series of exercises that never failed to cover him with a sheen of sweat. Perfect, since what followed after was a shower.
In the past, he hadn’t needed to think hard about what he was going to wear to work; he had only to put on his Auror uniform and badge. Done.
Now, however, he had the freedom to choose–a “freedom” that felt more like torture given who he was married to.
“Ronald, plaid is not an acceptable print to wear; I don’t care how casual those Quidditch players are.”
Pansy Parkinson, now Weasley, stood blocking the closet door with both hands propped up on her waist. He would have compared her to Hermione if he valued his life any less.
“Babe, I’ve told you this before. I’m just a reporter. They really don’t care what I wear as long as I do my job.”
Nostrils flared as she jerked her head from side to side, sending the silky black tresses he loved so much flying around her shoulders. She’d grown it out since their school days, the length now reaching halfway down her back. Just last night, he’d wrapped the surprisingly strong strands around one fist as he’d–
“I. Don’t. Care. You have an image to maintain, one that does not allow you to show up like one of those tree-cutting mountain men, or, daresay, Hagrid!”
Ron stroked a palm over his stomach, taking comfort in the soft flannel. The blue and grey pattern matched his eyes, or so his mother had told him when she’d gifted it to him in the first place. He liked the shirt because it kept him just warm enough in the cool fall air as he flew around on his broom through the stadium taking notes of teams and their players.
“Don’t you think the blue looks nice with my eyes?” He batted his eyelashes at Pansy, trying his best to seduce her with his manly charm.
She snorted, then strode right past him to reach further into the closet. This was his chance to escape, but Ron had learned his lesson from attempts to do so in the past. Parks was wicked fast with her wand and not afraid to use it on him. She knew a terrifying variety of spells to immobilise, trip, freeze, float, and summon. So, he waited.
A similarly blue button-up was thrust before him.
“Wear this one.”
He accepted the offering, but pouted as he fingered the material. “Babe, this isn’t anywhere near as warm. I’m gonna have to wear another layer over this.”
“So?” she asked, nonplussed as to what the problem was.
“I like this,” he tapped his chest for emphasis, “because it’s warm. And soft. And matches my eyes.”
Hers rolled. “Are you, or are you not, a wizard? Just cast a warming charm.”
She had a point.
Still, he frowned as he considered the shirt she’d handed him. When he looked back at her, her eyebrows jumped high as if to ask, What are you waiting for?
Just as he was about to start unbuttoning his collar, her earlier question floated up like a message from Merlin himself. Are you, or are you not, a wizard?
“Baby? Pansy?”
“What,” she said flatly, still refusing to budge from her position in front of the doorway.
“What if you charm the pattern on my shirt, so that it’s still the same colour and fabric, just without all the…lines?”
She tilted her head, lips pursed and bright eyes scanning his figure.
Like a magpie, she saw shiny, notable things, whether or not they were actually worth anything, and declared them her own. It was the same look she’d levelled on him when their social circles had started overlapping and he’d surprised her with unexpected observations. It was the look she’d flicked up at him from the chess pieces on the board as they took turns dancing around one another, trading wins and losses. It was that look, coupled with her slowly growing grin, that cemented his love for her.
“I can do that,” she conceded.
He sighed with relief, then spread his arms out and waited for her expert hand. The familiar warmth of her magic wound around his torso and arms, lines and squares vanishing in its wake. In hardly any time at all, he stood in a solid blue flannel shirt.
“Thanks, love.”
But, when he leaned down to peck her on the lips, she ducked away and narrowed her eyes. Anticipation caught his breath. What had he done now?
“You can also wear that tonight.”
Tonight?
September 4th. Their anniversary. Only their third, but still. He was a pillock. An arse. A bellend. What was it Hermione had called him? A wizard with the emotional range of a teaspoon?
“Y-yes. Of course,” he choked out.
He needed to arrange plans and fast. Owl Ginny and see if Blaise could wrangle something up…wait, no. Ginny would skewer him alive, as would Hermione. His mind jumped to Harry, but then recoiled at the memory of Theo’s wagging tongue.
Bill! He’d ask Bill. Surely he and Fleur had a list of appropriate places for just such an occasion.
Pansy’s close-lipped smile was the last thing he saw as he vanished through the Floo. That smile transformed into a chuckle, which then became a hummed melody as Pansy went about picking out her clothing for the day. She knew Ron had likely forgotten all about their wedding anniversary. Were he anybody else, she would have exposed him without mercy.
But this was Ronald. He wasn’t the sentimental sort, nor did she expect him to be. She was the one who excelled with special dates and plans, and she was more than happy to do so as long as he stood at her side wearing that grin that never failed to send her heart racing.
If he managed something halfway thoughtful tonight, she’d reward him, because, as much as she’d never admit it publicly, she agreed with him. He did look nice in the original shirt. The combination of sapphire blue and slate grey with his vivid red hair did unspeakable things to her knickers. It was really for other people’s wellbeing that she kept the sight to herself.
He could lumberjack her all he liked.