A/N: Oh gosh I haven't written in months and I don't really have an excuse other than life got busy! Hopefully you'll like it, it feels kinda weird to write them, it's been a while. But you know, it also feels a little like coming home ;)

Also 50!


50. Hazy

Ron is six. He sits tall, in his father's shed, on a stool he helped fix a few weeks earlier.

Arthur is trying to repair a television and Ron observes him attentively. He is chewing on a chocolate frog his dad handed him, half mumbling not to tell his mum about it.

Suddenly the television turns on and his dad beams. His smile is infectious. Both stare at the screen, mouths agape, it's nothing but little black and white dots moving frizzly on the screen.

Snow, Hermione will tell him many years later.

For now, he doesn't know what they are and find it curious that muggles would want to look at it for too long. It's only been a few seconds and it makes him hazy.

His father turns off the dots, "better luck next time huh?" and ruffles Ron's hair.

...

Ron is thirteen. And confused.

His best friend is coming to his house for the Quidditch World Cup and he tells his father about it in the damp air of the shed. Arthur is yet again, working on the television.

Ron hands him a piece of chocolate.

"I don't understand what seems to be the problem son, Harry came over plenty hasn't he? Why is it different?"

But Ron isn't talking about Harry. And his father seems to realise it as soon as he's finished talking.

Oh.

He turns away from the television to face Ron, an hint of a smile on his lips and a knowing glint in his eyes.

Ron frowns, "What?"

Arthur shrugs, he taps the television a couple times, slightly amused, "when your mum and I-"

He doesn't finish though, because the television turns on and it's not snow anymore, but images dancing on the screen. They keep moving left and right and there is no sound even though Ron knows there's supposed to be.

Almost as quickly as they appeared, the images fade and the screen turns black again. Arthur sighs, talking to himself about muggle technology and magic.

"She's here!" They hear Ginny scream towards the shed.

A small tremor runs through him as his heart quicken.

"You'll figure it out," his father offers, "I did." He pushes Ron out towards the house.

...

Ron is nineteen. He kisses his girlfriend senseless in the shadows of the shed.

He pushes her against the stool he once climbed to feel taller. Hermione hops on it, and he can barely catch his breath.

As he bends to capture her lips again, they hit the television sitting on the shelf next to them.

Ron doesn't even notice, too enthralled by the woman in front of him slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

She is the best thing that happened to him.

Hazily - he cannot think when Hermione is lazily trailing her hands against his skin - he realises that he finally figured it out.