Ron was exhausted, but he was actually the happiest he’d been in months (which, really, wasn’t all that happy, but it was still an improvement). He’d gotten himself on a routine, and thanks to George in most respects, he’d stopped gambling which lead to a drastic reduction in his drinking. Working at the shop, nearly every day, was tiring but in a good way. It didn’t frustrate him the way being an auror had. And so, a nice nap on the couch after dinner was just what he needed.
When the door flew open Ron jumped to his feet as quickly as he could muster, and grabbed for his wand before he realized who it was. Ron glared, but dropped his wand back onto the coffee table. “Fuck do you want storming in here like you own the place. Come to take more from me?” He knew, in a logical way, that Harry hadn't 'taken' anything from him, but that wasn't the point, not in that moment.