When Ron awoke to a splitting headache, a crick in his back due to sleeping half-on half-off of a futon, and a missing sock and shoe (on opposite feet), he was quite sure indeed that his day could not possibly get any worse. This delusion was rudely shattered when he opened his eyes to find the one and only Savior of the United Kingdom grinning down at him, a steaming mug of tea in one hand a copy of the Prophet in the other.

Ron waited a moment - partly out of politeness; partly to force down the rising feeling of nausea - but when it seemed Harry was content to simply beam down at him like his own personal sun, he decided it would be best for everyone's interests if he took the initiative.

"Good morning, Harry, mate."

Harry seemed to be caught in a loop of looking at the front page of his newspaper, looking at him, and suppressing laughter. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat strained with the effort, "Why, good morning, Ron." He started to say something else and then stopped himself in favor of setting the mug and paper down on a convenient side table. "We'll deal with the consequences of last night in time; first, you need to get cleaned up!"

Ron raised a warding hand to fend off Harry's exuberant proclamation, "Not so loud, eh? Had me a bit of a night…" he trailed off and then froze, as the meaning of Harry's words sunk in. By now he had managed to scoot over so his back is propped against the wall, and so he was able to lean forward and put his head in his hands. When he spoke, his muffled tone was primarily one of weary resignation, "What did we do?"

There was silence but for more rustling of paper, and Ron lifted his head to see Harry holding out the newspaper with a gleeful look on his face.

"Oh no."

Harry's mad grin somehow grew even wider as he said, "Oh yes."

Ron reached out to grasp the paper with trembling fingers, swallowed hard, and then gently unfolded it to read.

War Hero Ronald Weasley Announces Ministerial Bid

Ronald Weasley shocked all those present at the Ministry's Office for Formal Declarations late last evening when he arrived quite suddenly, without the customary prior notice. He cut a dashing figure, striding in purposefully with Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom flanking him.

…

The article continued in this way for some time, and Ron impatiently skipped over the flowery praise being heaped upon Harry, as was customary whenever he appeared in the publication these days.

…

And so, after swearing the traditional oath upon his magic, and with his companions serving as witnesses both of the swearing of the oath as well as Candidate Weasley's character references, the race for the Minister of Magic position has taken quite the turn. A representative from Minister Shacklebolt's office declined to comment on the matter, but with this first lot being cast from such an unlikely source, the upcoming election promises to be far from the boring contest that had previously been predicted.

The article continued on an interior page, but as the implications fully settled upon him, Ron felt himself losing his battle with nausea; Harry was kind enough to summon a nearby rubbish bin directly into Ron's arms, and he hugged it gratefully as he hung his head inside to reintroduce the contents of his stomach to the light of day. Once he had collected himself and rinsed his mouth out with a swig from a glass of water, also provided by Harry, the resultant mess and smell were vanished with a casual wave of Harry's wand.

With that taken care of, Ron said, with a heavy sigh, "Bollocks."