Ron Weasley

Sorry about that, friend!

The answer is that Harry didn't really get sick a lot when we were in school. He said he'd never really gotten sick a lot. Maybe it was some kind of residual magic from the protection spell or the horcrux thing. Who knows?

He gets sick now once in a while same as we all do. However, when it comes to hiding it? I think we can all agree that he's about the worst liar ever made. So, even if he tries to hide it, he doesn't succeed. None of us are great at hiding anything from each other, so I reckon it's a pretty useless idea, and I'm sure he feels the same by now.

Easy.

My Wedding. For obvious reasons.

My kid 's being born - I know it's cliche, but it really was a hell of a thing. Just like... One minute you're not a father and the next minute you are. It was wild both times.

Their first train rides to Hogwarts

“Who gives a shit how you are on a broom, you’re a world famous war hero, mate. You should milk that for all it’s worth!” Seamus laughed at his own words, but was willing to drop the subject at that point. Who knows, maybe Ron really did want to be an Auror, and just wanted to downplay it for whatever reason.

By the time they’d arrived at the club, Seamus was more than ready for a drink. He was pleasantly surprised when they stepped inside, it was a lot less obnoxious than many of the clubs he’d been to. He even sort of liked the kitschy decor, although he did think it was funny that out of all the muggle bars in London, Ron managed to end up with the one with the magic theme.

“I’ll grab the first round, yeah?”

“Oh, nah,” Ron shook his head. “I couldn’t do that. I mean, sure fame has to have some rewards or whatever, btu I wouldn’t want to make a team unless I was just as good as everyone else on it. That wouldn’t be... I dunno... It wouldn’t feel right.”

Funny, of course, because if you’d asked Ron a few years ago, he’d have thought he’d be more than willing to take advantage. However, now that it was finally actually there, he couldn’t imagine ever feeling good about something like that.

“Sure,” he agreed, “I’ll get us a table. Just get me a lager, yeah?”

Despite Seamus’s first impressions of the niceness of the house, it seemed that the surrounding neighborhood was considerably more run-down. Once again, he wondered how they’d gotten their hands on the house, and why they’d decided to live in this particular neighborhood. He was interested in seeing what this club would be like.

“Glad to do it. But if you want to play Quidditch, now’s the time,” Seamus decreed. Being an Auror was a big accomplishment, definitely, but it was a hell of a serious career choice to make just because your best friend was doing it. “I guarantee you could find at least one team that would sign you just for the ticket sales.”

Ron was decent at Quidditch, sure, but Seamus wouldn’t go so far as to say he’d make it in the professionals without his name. But he’d made his name fair and square, right, so why shouldn’t he capitalize on it? Surely one of the lower-ranked teams in the league would take him, just for the publicity of saying they had him. And since he was so fond of the Chudley Cannons, very possibly the worst team in the league, maybe he could even get a spot on his favorite team.

“If only, mate. But I’m hardly professional league material,” he said, snorting. “I’m like... high-grade mediocre at best, and I know it. I’m much better channeling that energy into taking out whatever dark wizards are left.” 

The streets weren’t terribly busy this evening. Ron hoped that the club wouldn’t be too deserted. He didn’t want Seamus to think he’d suggested a dead place that wasn’t any fun.

“Hope he feels better,” Seamus said politely. He liked Harry just fine, and wouldn’t have been at all disappointed if he had joined them on their night out, honestly. But he couldn’t deny that he had a much better shot of persuading Ron to engage in truly reckless, borderline unhealthy levels of drinking and shenanigans without his more responsible friend by his side.

“You ready to go?” he asked. He would happily partake in a tour of Ron’s place at a later date, but at the moment, he was a man on a mission. A mission that couldn’t be distracted by such petty things as home tours. 

Always impatient, Seamus didn’t even particularly wait for Ron to answer before he started inching towards where he assumed the door was. “Congratulations on the whole Auror thing, by the way. Life long dream and all that, yeah?” 

“I dunno if it’s life-long,” Ron snorted as they headed out into the night. “Primarily, it’s just sort of something I realized I could do after the war. Harry’s always wanted to be one, and I just sort of tagged along.”

They headed down the street. Ron figured they’d just walk since it wasn’t really all that far and it was a nice night. “Given my choice of careers, I’d much rather play professional quidditch, but... this is a pretty good back-up plan.”

Seamus wasn’t terribly worried about the cost. He’d been picking up some odd jobs lately, and had some money saved up. And what better occasion to blow his savings on than getting thoroughly trashed with an old school friend?

“Number twelve Grimmauld Place,” he repeated to Ron, “See you there.” Seamus finished getting ready and after a short hunt for his wallet, Flooed out of his flat. It took a couple stops, but he arrived at Ron’s place mostly without any road blocks.

“Hello,” he greeted, stepping out of the fireplace into what seemed like a very old, very posh house. He wondered where exactly they were in London, and how Ron had gotten his hands on such a nice place.

“Hey,” Ron said, standing from the chair where he’d been waiting. He was ready to go, having finished getting changed and eating his sandwich quickly. Harry had turned down the chance to go along, insisting that he really was just too tired.

“I did invite Harry, just so you know,” he offered. “He’s sleeping, though. Said he felt like death warmed up. I think he’s coming down with something, actually, but he never admits it when he’s sick. Stubborn.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “So, it looks like it’s just us.”

Seamus calculated how long it would take him to get to the International Floo Station, and then through to Ron’s, and decided it would probably be best to head straight out to the club and beat last call, larger bill be dammed.

“I can be there in a half hour or so,” Seamus told Ron. He wondered what this place they got in London was like. He knew rent was mad expensive there, but from the way Ron was talking, it didn’t sound like they were holed up in some shoebox flat.

“And don’t sell yourself short Ron,” he commented pleasantly. “Drinks or no, you’ve always seemed like a pretty cheap date to me.”

“Half an hour it is, then,” Ron said, happy to have plans on what had seemed like a boring evening a moment ago. It was a relief to know that he could still count on his classmate to be able to stir up a good time.

He shook his head, grinning at Seamus’s retort. “I will have you know that you’re going to have to rethink your strategy if that’s what you’re banking on, mate. I might be broke, but I’m not cheap.”

Seamus was polite enough not to laugh at the imagine of Ron checking in with Harry, as though he were his mother, even though it was a hilarious image. Harry in a flowered apron, ironing Ron’s trousers and baking him a pie. 

Jokes aside, it did sound nice for the three of them to all be living together as a big, happy family. He assumed that was what Ron meant by “We’re all living in London” at least, in a location that he didn’t actually know of.

“Haven’t the foggiest,” he admitted to Ron. He’d have to get across the Sea, which wouldn’t actually be too bad if he went the magical way as opposed to the muggle, and then, he supposed, show up at Ron’s. Floo would probably be the easiest, if that was possible. “Can I Floo in?”

“Sure you can,” Ron said. “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place will get you here. Then you can see the house. I’ll give you the grand tour, even.” 

Granted, it wasn’t all that impressive, probably, but it was theirs and that made it feel more... adult to Ron. Grown up. Like they were really going to tackle this reality thing full-on. “We can have a drink or two here before we go, even, if you like. Make me a cheaper date,” he snickered.

Being tall, he wasn’t a quick drunk by any means. Still, he had galleons to spend and so did Seamus it sounded like, so it was shaping up to be an incredible evening. 

A Halloween-themed club in muggle London sounded…interesting, but he supposed it was Ron’s night out, and if that’s what he wanted to do, then that was what he wanted to do. 

“I don’t need a costume, do I?” he joked, although he hadn’t really worn a Halloween costume since he was about eight years old. As he spoke to Ron, Seamus started lacing up his shoes. Ron was right, they’d have to hurry to get to the place in time.

“Should I meet you there, or at your place?” he asked, a more serious question this time. “How soon will you be ready?”

“Nah, it’s not that sort of Halloween, really,” he shrugged. “It’s just... I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s a good time and it’s a muggle club.” He was doing a shit job of explaining it, but it was a place that served alcohol and that was really the important thing at this point, wasn’t it? “You can meet me here at Number Twelve, if you want. D’you know where it is?” he asked, looking down at himself. A different shirt was probably in order. “It’ll only take me few minutes, really. I’ve got to change shirts and put some shoes on. Finish my sandwich.”