Ron. Ron Weasley.

I'm Ronald Weasley.
Youngest son and second youngest child in a family of 9.
Best mate of the Chosen One. Basically just... Harry Potter's stupid friend.
I'm a fifth year. Prefect. Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
What of it?

OOC:
This is a roleplaying blog. I own nothing and only follow my fellow roleplayers.

kurtelizabeth--hummel Asks:

George walked down the mostly empty halls of the school, save a kid here or there running to their respective housing areas. He sighed. His cheeks were still tear stained, his eyes red and puffy. His footsteps echoed off the walls, filling the silence to a small extent.

Where he was headed, he wasn't sure himself. He just needed to think. If anything, though, he was praying to someone that he would find Ron, so he could fix what he had ruined.

harrypottersstupidfriend Said:

Ron wandered aimlessly through the corridors. It was almost curfew, and most of the students had returned to their common rooms. He didn’t want to go back there, where the other Gryffindors would try to talk to him and, if he didn’t plaster a smile on his face, bother him about why he was upset.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened over the past few days. He had managed to ask George to tutor him. Hermione had been eavesdropping and was probably mad at him about that, though it wasn’t showing anymore. Fred had kissed her. George had kissed him. He had kissed George. George had run away, saying something about a love potion.

He still had the little vial in the pocket of his robes, unsure of whether he should turn it in or not. Probably not. If he understood George correctly, it was the potion itself and not the antidote. It would be better to just skip the assignment.