"Ron, what the hell did you do?"

Ron jumped. He was slumped in the armchair beside the fireplace. "What did I do?" Ginny stood in front of him.

"I just got a distress call from Parkinson. She was a mess, crying all over the place. She wanted me to explain why you'd gone off your tree at her when all she'd done was be civil." Ginny didn't look happy.

"I… I don't know. She was openly admitting to manipulating me, and then she said she just wanted to be friends…" Ron had been moping in the chair by the fire for hours now, and he still didn't understand why he'd gone off like that.

Ginny's face softened. "Oh, Ron. You're a nincompoop, you know? When are you going to tell her that you like her?"

"I what?"

"You like her. You want to spend the rest of your life with her. Have her babies. All that rot."

Ron sat up. "I do not like her. She's a Slytherin. She's sneaky… She's got a nasty sense of humour. She's got freckles on her nose. Shit, I do like her. Merlin, what do I do now? She doesn't like me at all, she just wants a friend."

"So be her friend. Let her figure out if she likes you too, then do something about it."

Ron grimaced. "It sounds so much easier when you say it."

"The benefits of giving advice." There was a sadness in Ginny's face, but when Ron asked about it, she shook her head. "I'm just realising that Harry's really gone."

"Is that going to drive you into Malfoy's arms?"

Ginny gave Ron a sad look. "Ron, did you really think I was playing?" At Ron's startled look, she gave him a wry smile. "I want to stop the amendments of this law too, Ron. It won't be long before the Ministry and the Wizengamot take away all our freedom and start making all the choices for us. All of us. We need to stop this law before we trade away our souls. And they won't get rid of the law until the prime movers are married. Prime mover number one? Malfoy."

"That's very… honourable of you, Gin. But do you really have to sacrifice yourself on the altar of Malfoy to do it?"

Ginny sat on the arm of the chair. "Ron, I'm not sacrificing myself. He's actually not bad company. I… I just always thought that Harry would take up the challenge and chase me. He put more effort into chasing horcruxes than he ever did into me. I wanted to feel important. But he didn't get it. And Parkinson told me that the Greengrasses have foisted Astoria off on him… And I've been doing all the chasing of Draco, as well. I…"

Ron pulled his sister into his lap. "Gin, you deserve the best. You really do. If you don't want to chase Malfoy, then don't. Harry's an idiot for letting you get away. I know this law's ridiculous, and we'll fight it. But you don't need to be miserable."

Ginny relaxed into her brother's arms and let herself be comforted. "Thanks, Ron."

After a few minutes, Ginny got up and went to bed. Ron, despite having training the next day, kept staring at the fire in the grate.

In the morning, he woke freezing and sore. The fire had gone out, and he was still sitting in the armchair. Groaning, he worked the kinks out of his muscles and rushed off to training.

There was a letter waiting for him when he got home that evening. He could tell that his mother had been curious all day by the way she avoided looking at him when he went to take the letter off the table. He considered it for a moment, but he could see the way his mum was looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He wondered what spells she'd used to try and get the contents out of it before he got home.

He took the letter up to his room. He knew it was from Pansy. He turned it over and over again in his hands with indecision, guilt and fear weighing in his stomach. Finally, he sighed and opened it.

Ron, the letter said, Gosh, I'm sorry for last night. You bring out all the candidness in me, and I sometimes forget that I'm not the most tactful person in the world. I don't know exactly what I said to tip you off like that, but I'd really like to work it out. Let me take you out on Friday? Pansy.

Ron searched the letter again and again for clues about what the woman was thinking, but after the third time he gave up. He'd see her; of course he'd see her. But he had no idea what to expect. With a sigh, he confessed to himself that he'd never understand women.