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Author's note: The pairing of this chapter was suggested by Heptagon. Thank her (or blame her...)

Chapter 7: Dolores and Ron

It was ridiculous, everyone would admit that. And even he did.

He was the best Auror the Ministry had. Well, that was if you didn't count Harry, but as Harry usually didn't like to be counted it was all right. Harry wasn't an Auror either, per se, he was just the guy everyone would turn to if there were extremely dangerous situations ahead, and the guy who would always come and help them out then, no matter how much he grumbled in the process.

So, he was the best Auror the Ministry had. For the past few years he had fought the most skilled Death Eaters almost on daily bases. All right, maybe not on daily bases now, but a small exaggeration doesn't hurt. He definitely would still fight them all the time if there were enough of them left. And he had always defeated them, one hundred percent (maybe that's another small exaggeration, but that is only human), so he should have been competent in other areas of life, too. Or at least in other areas of magic.

But, as it came out, he wasn't.

It was just his luck that the only thing he got for his respected status at the Ministry was this silly accident being hyped up, so that instead of the usual procedure where the Magic Reversal Squad would take care of accidents like that, his case was to be handled through the Cabinet.

So here he was, standing in the ante-chamber of the Minister's office, leaning on the wall with the side of his missing arm, hoping that no one would notice (at least none of those people who hadn't heard of it, yet). To make things worse, everyone knew that the Minister was on a visit to some small and pointless country somewhere whose population of wizards was only about a couple hundred, and Ron's worst worry was that he might end up with Percy as the one to document his mistake and take care of the consequences.

In addition to that, he really hoped that Hermione was taking good care of his arm. Especially in hiding it. He definitely had put the few locks of Hermione's hair that had come with him safely in the chest pocket of his robes. It would be a horror if the press found out how hopeless their great hero-Auror was at Apparition.

The door to the Minister's office finally opened, and Ron saw something short and pink and fluffy stepping out.

He quickly re-evaluated his situation. All right, Percy wouldn't be that bad.

"Mr. Weasley," Umbridge smiled, forgetting to add her usual cough to the sentence. "Mr. Percy Weasley has been assigned to take care of your situation." She smiled again.

Huh. Thank Merlin, and Dumbledore, and Potter. Ron almost smiled in relief.

"But as his senior official I sent him to take care of your friend, who I'm sure is the one to blame for this unfortunate mistake, and I'll be handling your part of the paperwork myself. Come in."

And all this time she didn't fake coughing even once.

Ron followed the human toad into the office, and almost staggered back out when he saw what it looked like.

There were cushions everywhere. And not just plain usual homey cushions; the colour of those ranged from bright pink to soft velvety light red, and most of them had embroidered ducklings on them (two on each, with their beaks so close to the other as could be, and a podgy red heart springing out from there). The desk was covered with a tablecloth just as pink as the rest of the room, a couple of knitted doilies thrown on it for effect.

"Sit down," she said in the most girlish voice possible, indicating to a pink couch which was almost unnoticeable due to the curtains hung over all the walls of the office, therefore efficiently blocking all view the portraits would have. (Ron couldn't but think that the portraits must have been really happy not to see.)

He took a quick half-step out, and meant to close the door and run for it, only then remembering he was missing the particular hand he wanted to use for closing the door.

"Hem-hem!"

Ah, here it was.

"Make yourself at home!" she insisted with an overly sweet smile, grabbing hold of his remaining hand and pulling him into the room. The door closed on its own volition, and the resounding click made Ron wonder whether he would risk leaving his other arm, too, if it meant the rest of him would have Apparated out of the room.

Umbridge clung to his hand almost violently as he was thrown into the sofa, and a moment later almost suffocated by Umbridge following him there. Ron had all kinds of sentences going through his head at that moment (and at a quite high level of voice), starting with long ones like "If you don't get away from me this instant, you fat filthy toad, I'll curse you, even though my wand is probably in my hand somewhere near Hogsmeade!" to the much shorter "Help! Can somebody hear me? Help!" to the minimal and desperate "PINK!"

But, he was still a polite Ministry employee at audience with his superior.

"When is the Minister returning?" he asked, trying to block his eyes from seeing anything of the offending colour, and hoping the answer would be something like "In two minutes."

He wasn't as lucky.

"Next Friday. We have ample time." And short stubby fingers were placed on his armless shoulder.

Ron gulped.

"I hope I can sign the papers with my left hand, Ms. Umbridge?" he said, trying to slip out of her embrace, and towards the desk, as he willed his brain not to notice its appearance.

"You may call me Dolly," Umbridge said.

Ron squeaked, and started wriggling to get away.

Umbridge seemed not to pay much attention to it, though. She was telling him something, but as he didn't want to hear it, he just didn't listen. He was in enough trouble trying to work his way out from the squashy sofa that he was pressed into with only the help of one arm.

"Hem, hem," he heard her say some time into the struggle. He didn't give in.

"Hem, hem!" This came a bit more forcefully.

"I'd rather you sat calmly." A pink smile followed it. "You have some signing to do."

"Finally!" Ron bellowed out, then blushed as red as the rest of the room was, and stopped fighting.

'Dolly' had in the meantime pulled out a roll of parchment, which was infuriatingly pink and had vines and flowers and hearts and doves drawn on its edges. Ron almost tore it to pieces as he grabbed it from her, jumped up from the couch, ran to the desk, took a quill from there, and dipped it in a pot of ink (red, naturally). Quickly he scribbled Weasley in the gap that was meant for his last name.

Only when he had already placed the tip of the quill in the gap that read 'First (and middle) name(s)' did he notice the title on the top of the parchment.

"Biding Magical Contract — Magical Marriage. What does that mean?"

"You signed it?" she almost shouted in glee, her eyes bulging in eagerness.

The door flew open and a familiar red head popped in.

"Did I hear you right? He signed?" Percy asked, his cheeks flushed in excitement.

Ron shot a look at both of the others, then gazed back at the gap where his hand had already started to draw his name. Without a second thought he wrote down Percy Ignatius as the 'first name', and then jumped back when the parchment glowed bright red in his hands.

Making sure that nobody was holding onto him, he turned on the spot, Disapparating from the Minister's office.

Author's note: This settles it; I'm completely mad. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for the chapter to take this direction, but it just did... Sorry.

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