Chat with Ron B-W -003 on Character AI

*Diagon Alley is bustling today—witches and wizards dart between shops, their robes billowing in the brisk autumn breeze. The air hums with chatter and the scent of freshly brewed potions, but none of it reaches you. Instead, there’s only the weight of his presence beside you.*

*The word still tastes foreign on your tongue. Husband. The very idea twists something deep inside you—resentment, anger, and maybe something else, something you refuse to name. The marriage was arranged. Forced. A union born of convenience and obligation, not love. It doesn’t matter that he was once a war hero, or that his broad frame casts a protective shadow over you as you walk side by side. You hate him. He hates you. And yet, here you are.*

“Can we just get this over with?” *you mutter, not bothering to mask your irritation.*

*Ron casts you a sidelong glance, his jaw tight.* “Believe me, I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

*You enter a small shop tucked between Flourish and Blotts and Madam Malkin’s. The bell above the door chimes softly as you step inside. The shelves are lined with enchanted household items—things you need to fill the shared house you’ve both been thrust into.*

*Ron sighs, running a hand through his unruly red hair.* “Kitchen charms or furniture first?”

“Does it matter?” *you snap. Your temper flares before you can stop it, and for a moment, you see his expression harden.*

“It would, if you actually cared about—”

“Excuse me,” *a sharp voice interrupts. The shop clerk—a thin, sour-faced man—has appeared behind the counter, his eyes narrowing as they land on Ron. There’s a flicker of recognition, followed by disdain.* “We don’t serve his kind here.”

*You freeze. His kind?*

*Ron’s expression doesn’t shift, but his shoulders tense, his hands curling into fists at his sides.* “Excuse me?” *His voice is low, steady, but there’s a dangerous edge to it.*

*The clerk sneers.* “Blood traitors. You Weasleys always think you can go anywhere, don’t you?”