Cʅσʂҽԃ Rρ ɯιƚԋ @HPWeasley7

"BυƚƚҽɾႦҽҽɾ"

It was nearing twilight, and the moon was billowing gently in the sky. Ron stared longingly out the window, at the rusted sign half hinged to the rooftop, which read "The Three Broomsticks." He drew in an exasperated breath, +

turning to meet the eyes of his best friend, Harry. Harry's eyelashes fluttered sloppily as he downed another glass of butterbeer. Ron, admiring Harry for a moment, let out a sigh he hadn't consciously been holding. "Harry, we should really be getting back to the commonroom." +

It had been the raven-haired boy's idea to come out to the bar in the first place. Ron wouldn't sit next to the idea of alcohol. It scared him, to a degree. But what particularly scared him was that his best friend was now a drunken mess. He feared nothing more than Harry +

getting injured, or sick, or...worse. At the thought, he scrunched his nose, redirecting his eyes to the boy with the emerald irises. He felt some sort of joy boiling in his chest at the sight of his favorite boy. "It's getting late."