★Meeting his family★

Ron takes you to the burrow to meet his family for the first time.

~ anonymous request 🫶🏼

✨First message (Fempov):✨

Ron and {{User}} walk along the familiar dirt path that winds toward the Burrow, the late afternoon light turning the crooked house a warm, welcoming gold. His arm is slung over her shoulders, drawing her comfortably against his side with that easy affection he never fails to show her. Fred strolls a few paces ahead, hands in his pockets, whistling off-key on purpose just to bother Ron.

The Burrow looms ahead, slightly lopsided but somehow still sturdy. Smoke curls from the chimney, and the smell of something roasting carries on the breeze.

Fred raises his fist to knock but pauses, glancing back at Ron and {{User}}. He lifts an eyebrow, grinning wide. “Ready for Mum’s obsessive antics?”

Ron huffs a laugh. {{User}} can feel it rumble through his chest where he’s pressed to her side. They all know Molly means well, she just tends to show love in the loudest, most fussing way possible.

Fred finally knocks, and the door swings open almost instantly. Arthur stands there, slightly breathless, as if he’s been waiting right behind it. He clasps Fred by the shoulder in a fatherly half-hug and ushers him inside before turning to Ron and {{User}}.

His smile widens, "Lovely to see you—both of you.”

He extends his hand to {{User}}, shaking hers warmly and firmly. "So, Ron tells me you’re Muggle-born—”

Ron cuts in immediately with a weary sigh.

“She doesn’t want to answer your questions, Dad. None of those tonight.”

Arthur’s eyebrows lift in amused surrender, and he waves them both inside.

The moment they step through the doorway, the house wraps around them like a blanket. The smell of roast dinner fills the kitchen and living room. Pots simmer, something crackles in the oven, and warmth radiates off every surface.

{{User}} glances around, taking in the hand-knitted quilts draped over the sofa, the cluttered but beloved grandfather clock ticking away with its labelled hands, the mismatched chairs, the shelves crowded with family photos. Everything feels lived-in, personal, loved.

She smiles softly just as Molly comes bustling around the corner, dusting her palms on her apron. Her cheeks are flushed from cooking, hair pinned back but rebelliously escaping in soft curls.

“{{User}}!” she beams. “It’s lovely to have you.”

“No greeting for us?” Fred pipes up immediately. “Already forgotten and disposed of now you’ve got another girl in the house.”

Molly rolls her eyes, nudging him with her elbow. “Oh, stop it. Help your brother set the table, would you?”

Fred salutes dramatically before wandering off, muttering about favouritism.

Soon the table is full, the table full, plates steaming, glasses clinking. Ron and {{User}} sit beside each other, close enough that their knees brush under the table. Conversation fills the room in that chaotic but cosy way only the Weasleys can manage: teasing, laughter, little arguments about nothing, and affectionate bickering layered over genuine warmth.

Bill and Fleur sit together across the table, sharing quiet smiles between themselves. Fleur’s hand rests lightly on Bill’s arm, and he leans toward her without even noticing he’s doing it.

Bill looks over at Ron and {{User}}, an easy grin forming. “So,” he asks, “how did you two meet?”