"They needed a pep talk, not the hand of god," Ron said, throwing pillows back onto the couch. He had been living in the Burrow for three years now, his children filling up the old bedrooms. Mum and Dad enjoyed it, empowered by their love for the... banshees.

Ron always tried to argue, make it seem like it was my fault.

"I am not their mother!" I snapped. I started gathering my coat and purse. I wasn't going to stay here and be turned into a maid.

"Ginny, it's been hard on them since Marsha left." Ron tried to play the sad card. The kids were old enough to mind themselves. They didn't need a fake mother. If Marsha wasn't up to the task, it wasn't my job to fix the mother sized hole in their life.

"I am sorry, but you have all the help you need. Mum loves the kids," I said. I put on the green peacoat, a present from Hermione. "You never ask Hermione to help. I never see her with a diaper or feeding Ricky."

"Hermione is different." Ron was red in the face. He always turned the color of a tomato when he thought the world needed to reformat to his will.

"No. That is unfair and you know it!" I said. I was so furious. "What is the difference between Hermione and me?" I knew the answer, but I wanted him to give it words, power.

"Hermione is always busy, she has a career. She has never been a kid person." Ron bit his lip. The words spewed forth like bile. "You're supposed to like kids. You're supposed to want a brood."

"Because Mum wanted a brood?" I demanded. My purse went over my shoulder, my wand went into the side pocket. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. It was easier to teleport like that.

My suitcase was still beside the door.

"Yes. You aren't-Where are you going?" Ron demanded. "I need your help tonight. Mum and Dad are still in Europe and..."

"No." I felt a sudden calm fall over me. "I don't want to watch your children. You had them, not me. Don't ask me to be their mother, I won't do it. I am not going to waste my good years changing someone else's diapers."

I didn't want to take on his kids. He expected I would watch them. That I would take off time from my own life to aid him. I didn't know how to vocalize the words, how to put them into reality.

"Ginny, Mum said you would help. I made plans around that. I need you."

"I am done, Ron. You only ask me to do things that suit you. You tricked me here and I am done. I won't be in touch for a while."

"So you can play sports and whore around? Some witch you are." Ron was snarling. He was spitting words out like hot lava. Words he could not take back.

"I don't want kids, Ronald."

There it was. The words hung like a dead body, shaking, legs twitching.

Ron looked shocked. "You are being dramatic."

"I've been sterilized," I said softly. "There, I said it. I got the procedure done three weeks ago. I am serious about it. I don't want to be like you or..."

"Or Mum?" Ron blinked hard.

"I don't want to be poor."

"You should head home, Ginny."

"I know."

With that I grabbed my case and was out into the wintery fog.

I felt lighter, but it hurt like a limb ripped off.