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English
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Published:
2024-03-24
Updated:
2025-08-22
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56,317
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17/?
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Ron Weasley's guide to protecting Harry Potter in a variety of unethical and illegal ways

Summary:

When Ron Weasley first saw the scrawny little boy with black hair covering a lightning scar and green, green eyes behind taped together glasses, the first thought that had popped into his head was “Mine”

There aren't enough deranged and codependent Ron and Harry fics so I decided to fix the problem

Y’ALL WE GOT TWO (2) BETA READERS!!!!! SHOUT OUT TO MY BESTIE (voluntarily suffering my bullshit) AND MY BOYFRIEND (involuntarily suffering my bullshit) THEYRE FANTASTIC (they’re also gonna die when they see this note from embarrassment but I plead “I’m just a little guy your honor 🥺”)

Chapter 1: It was at this point everything went to shit

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ron Weasley had met the infamous Harry Potter on a day in September at train station 9 ¾. He can’t remember the exact time it had all began, but he can recall the moment he first saw him perfectly.

Ron had been sitting in the train car, minding his own damn business might he add, when someone had decided to disturb any peace he might have had with one merlin damned question. 

"Can I sit here?" a small voice piped up from behind him. 

Ron didn’t want them to sit there, he was there first, and was about to tell whoever had said that -he hadn't looked at them as he was currently very busy staring at the wall across from him and counting to ten so he wouldn't break the fuckers nose-to sit somewhere else, before he remembered Mum had told (threatened) him to play nice.

(Even god would feel fear when faced with Molly Weasley's wrath, especially when she was armed with a rolling pin)

So he took a deep breath, pasted on a painfully forced grin, and turned around to make a polite introduction like someone who was socially adept would. 

“I’m Ron Weasley mate, you?”

“Uhm, Harry Potter.”

Harry Potter, he mused thoughtfully. It felt almost familiar, but it probably wasn't that important.

(Turns it was actually that fucking important) 

Ron stopped, blinked, and then blinked again as he took a second take at the boy.

The boy, (Harry, a voice that sounded a lot like Mum’s scolded), looked, how you do say, a little different then he expected.

And by different he meant the complete and utter opposite.

Harry was a downright midget that was skinny as a twig and drowning in his oversized clothes; looking like a light breeze would send him flat on his arse. His hair was a tangled mess that would make even the most seasoned barber faint in horror, sticking up in directions that defied gravity, magic, and common sense. There was lightning scar traveled along his forehead and over one of eyes, branching out onto the rest of his face. It was pretty, with pinkish scar tissue raised into ridges over tan skin.

The most stunning thing of all about him were his eyes that were hidden behind taped together glasses. They were some color that probably had a fancy name like the shiny green rocks in that book Percy had read (They aren’t rocks Ron, they’re gems, get it right) that Ron could wax on about for pages if he had a single poetic bone in his body. 

A single thought in Ron’s mind. 

Mine

He was entranced.

“You’re pretty” he blurted out, like a stupid git, and Harry flushed like he’d gotten hit with one the twins color bomb before he started stuttering and flailed in a very accurate impression of those ‘automobiles’ Dad was always working on before they exploded either through sheer fucking luck or the wonder duo's penchant for arson. 

(Thank Merlin fire extinguishers existed or the burrow would have burned down a loooonnnggg time ago)

“Thank you uh-than-thanks you’re pretty too!” Harry yelled, standing up ramrod straight like he had broom shoved up his arse.

“Uhm, your welcome mate?” Bit of an odd reaction that 

Harry shrunk into himself through incredible feat when he took up about two feet of the room maximum and mumbled something that sounded like 'shut the hell up and stop making things awkward Harry' before he collected himself once again.

“So what’s the famous Harry Potter doing with a bloke like me all alone in a train car?”

“Famous?” Harry said in a distinctly confused tone. 

“Uh yeah mate, you killed ‘He who shall not be named’ or whatever when you were a baby.”

“You mean Voldemort?” Harry said, tilting his head cutely like he didn’t just mention the murderer of his parents and bane of the wizarding world casually.

“That’s the one”

“Oh. Yeah I did do that didn't I. I forgot." 

Ron's mouth fell open in shock. Who forgets defeating the fucking dark lord???

“You’re interesting, mate” Ron said with a small smirk, (that was really just him bearing his teeth in a poor approximation of a smile), and Harry looked at him with bewilderment. 

“What, never had someone tell you that?”

“Well….no.” Harry said shyly, looking down at his loafers that were apparently extremely interesting at this current moment in time. 

“Fair enough I suppose, never happened to me neither.”

Harry looked flummoxed at the prospect. “Well why not, don’t you have any friends?”

“I’m not that nice in the first place mate.” Which was, as they say, a disgustingly gross understatement

Harry’s face furrowed like he couldn't begin to fathom the thought, before passionately declaring “Well I think you’re plenty nice, and they’re right idiots if they didn’t notice” before nodding like he had made an executive decision. “I’ll be your friend instead then.”

“You want to be my friend?”, Ron said incredulously. No one had wanted to be his friend, well, ever, if he was honest. 

“Will you be my friend?” Harry fired right back like the petulant eleven year old he was.

“I mean yes, but are you sure mate-” Ron said back, trying to give this poor, poor delusional soul a chance to run screaming for the hills. 

“Yes, I’m perfectly sure, thank you very much, now scoot over, I want to sit by my friend.” Harry huffed petulantly before plopping himself down almost on top of Ron and making himself comfortable with the audacity of a house cat. 

As he looked at the boy who lived that decided to be his friend without any input from him whatsoever, he felt a dark sort of…..satisfaction fill him, and the same feeling he had when he saw blood ooze to the floor. 

His friend.

His.

Ron had only a few things that were truly his, most everything he owned was hand me downs. He didn’t blame his parents, there were a lot of mouths to feed and only so much to go around.

But what he did own, he guarded more fiercely than a dragon over her eggs.

After all, Harry was his, and he was Harry’s now, plain and simple.

So like any responsible friend, Ron would protect and keep him far away from all the trouble and strife that was sure to follow the little boy with too sharp eyes and a lightning scar and a wizarding world on his scrawny shoulders.

Because Ron Weasley protected his own, and Merlin fucking help anything that dared to touch them.

Notes:

Thank you PopularLonerOnyx AND MarchioDoesntCare for pointing out vermillion is actually red a VERY long time ago I just remembered to fix it because I am a dumbass BUT my incredible readers saved my hide once again ❤️