The Bargain
2: Telling Ginny
By Mr. Intel
Chapter Two — Telling Ginny
To say that Harry was worried about Ginny's reaction to the news that they had to be married in twelve days was a definite understatement. He was downright terrified.
Remus left Harry to return to mingling with the partygoers, so Harry decided to walk around in an attempt to clear his mind. Maybe the cool dusk air would somehow inspire him.
"Hello, Harry," said Luna, who had found him prowling next to the hedges surrounding the garden. She was wearing a bright yellow set of robes with Butterbeer corks sewn onto the hem. "Lovely party."
"Thanks, Luna," said Harry with a small smile. "I’m glad you could make it."
"Yes, well," she began, "it’s not every day that you get to spend an evening in the company of a Weasley, now, is it?" Ron had been manoeuvred into dancing with Luna twice by Harry’s count, and despite his own problems, Harry had to grin.
"I suppose not," Harry said as Ginny passed by behind her, catching his eye for a second.
Luna sighed. "You pursue your Weasley and I’ll pursue mine," she said airily and walked off.
"Wait a minute," said Harry to her retreating form, waving uselessly after her. "I’m not — "
Harry held his arm out for a moment after she disappeared, feeling foolish for yelling.
As he lowered his arm and turned around, he almost ran into Ginny, who was watching Ron try to dodge Luna's persistent advances. She wore a wry smile on her face and held two glasses in her hand. "Care for some punch? Talking with Luna can dry the mouth out like nothing else," she said, pushing one of the cups into Harry’s hand.
"Um, thanks," he said, taking an obligatory sip. "Are you, uh...having a good time?" Harry felt stupid; he was acting as if this were the first time he had ever met her, but thankfully, Ginny didn’t seem to notice.
She smiled. "I am, actually. The punch is good, the cake wasn’t charmed to make us all sprout extra heads, and even Mum seems to be handling all the guests well." Her smile dimmed and she reached out a hand for Harry’s shoulder. "But there’s something wrong with you, isn’t there? I can tell. You seem a little guarded."
Nervously looking at the ground, Harry said, "Do I? Um, well... yes, I suppose I am a little nervous."
"Care to talk about it?" Ginny asked.
Harry looked back at her face and was grateful they had been friends the past year, or their impending conversation would be even more unbearable. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to broach the subject with her.
"I’d actually like a chance to think about it some more, if that’s all right," Harry said. "For reasons that won’t be clear until we talk, you’re the only one I can actually talk with about it."
Ginny’s hand slipped off of his arm. "Well, just let me know when you’re ready to talk," she said with a curious glance and walked past him.
Harry drained his drink and located the punch bowl, looking for a refill. Working up the courage to tell a girl they needed to get married was thirsty work. Before long, he found himself back in the seat he’d been in when Remus had unloaded the news on him in the first place.
After a few minutes of quiet rumination, Ron plopped down across from him, in the seat that had been recently occupied by Remus. "Are you going to just sit here for the rest of the night," Ron began, "or are you going to have some fun?"
Harry blinked. "I think I will just sit here, actually. In fact... that’s a perfectly reasonable solution."
Sending his friend a concerned glance, Ron took Harry’s glass from the small table and sniffed at it. "Not spiked," he said to himself. "You feeling all right, mate? You look well out of it to me."
Turning back to look at Ron, Harry shook his head. "I couldn’t even begin to tell you, Ron. Remus just dropped a very large..." Harry paused as he tried to figure out how he was going to tell Ron without triggering the punishment. "A very large problem in my lap just now and I’m having a tough time sorting through it."
Ron placed Harry’s drink back on the table and leaned back into his chair. "You want to talk about it?"
With a sigh, Harry mimicked his friend, reclining in his chair. "I can’t. It’s part of the problem, actually."
"Well, is it about You-Know-Who?" Ron whispered, inching forward a bit.
"Nah," said Harry with a wave of his hand. "It’s much worse than that. But don’t try to figure it out." A musical laugh resonated across the field and Harry’s eyes instantly found Ginny’s smiling face. "As soon as I tell her, I can tell you."
Ron looked to where Harry’s gaze was fixed and back to Harry. "What’s this got to do with my sister?" he asked in a slightly colder voice. "She’s not in trouble, is she?"
Harry let out a hollow laugh and forced himself to look away from Ginny. "Actually, I’m the one that’s going to be in trouble."
Ron knocked back the rest of his punch with a loud swallow and set the glass down on the table next to Harry’s. "Personally, I think that if it hasn’t got anything to do with Lord Nutters, then you’d better thank your lucky stars." He rose and stretched, then jabbed a thumb in Ginny’s direction. "Oh, and Harry? Stop staring at my sister’s bum."
Harry’s face heated. "What are you on about?" he hollered. "I’m not staring at her. I’m not even thinking about her."
"Whatever you say, Harry. I’m off to find Hermione," he said with a significant look. "Wish me luck." Ron walked back to the knots of people milling around the food table, presumably to find their bushy-haired friend.
Harry rose as well, but headed for the small hill that overlooked the village, grateful he was of age now and could cast his own Insect Repellent Charms. The lights of the village were just now coming on as the sun set on the horizon, already masked by the trees in the distance. The air seemed sweeter here and the music from the party filtered up to his ears.
Having only closed his eyes for a second, Harry was slightly startled when he heard someone say, "Mind if I sit here?"
Blinking his eyes open, Harry found Ginny sitting next to him, her back to the same tree as his. "Of course you can sit here. You live here, after all."
Ginny looked thoughtful and said, "Well, you live here too, you know. Mum wouldn’t have it any other way and since you don’t have to go back to your aunt’s again, and since you have to sleep somewhere...."
Pulling himself forward, Harry broke off a few blades of grass from the ground and twirled them in his hand. "I suppose you’re right. Your family means the world to me, you know?"
Her hand slipped into his and Harry’s stomach seemed to drop to the ground. "I know, Harry," Ginny said with a smile. "You mean the world to us, too."
They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment before Harry’s gaze fell to their hands. "There’s something I need to tell you, Ginny... something big, and I don’t know exactly how to say it."
Ginny squeezed his hand and said, "Whatever it is, Harry, it sounds like it’s got to be said. So just tell me."
Harry looked up again and found her smirk entirely too cute for what was about to happen. "All right. But you have to promise two things. First, don’t interrupt me until I’ve finished and second... no hexing me. It’s not my fault."
To Harry’s consternation, her smile only increased. "Well, that’s a switch. Harry Potter admitting that something isn’t his fault."
"You’re laughing now, but I guarantee you won’t be in a few minutes," Harry said.
Ginny’s smile fell, and she gave him a penetrating stare. "What could possibly be so terrible, Harry? Just tell me," she pleaded.
Taking a deep breath, Harry cleared his mind and began. "There’s this ancient Wizarding tradition that’s apparently still legal, and our fathers, yours and mine," he said, pointing a thumb at her, then him, "somehow invoked it just before you were born. There’s no way to get out of the bargain once it’s been made without activating this whopping bad hex. I’m the only one that can tell you and no one can say anything about it until I have, so we can’t ask your father anything at all until I’ve told you."
"Harry," Ginny interrupted. "You still haven’t told me what it is."
"Right," Harry said. "You see...we, um...have to get married."
Silence was his only answer as Ginny stared dumbly at him.
"Ginny?"
The expression of confusion that had momentarily been jammed on her face cleared. "You’re joking, right?" she blurted. "This is a joke and you’re really Fred or George and you’ll change back and yell ‘GOTCHA!’, right?" Ginny buried her face in her hands and whispered, "Tell me you’re joking."
A burning glob of bile swelled in Harry’s throat. "I’m not that bad, am I? I mean, it’s not like I planned this, you know."
"No, Harry. You don’t understand," Ginny replied shakily, her face still hidden.
"Then explain it to me," Harry said, getting more and more aggravated by her reaction.
"I can’t, Harry. It’s not that simple, and I’m not sure I understand myself."
Harry stood and started to pace in front of the tree. "Well, let me finish telling you the rest of our situation. Not only do we have to get married, but we have to do it by your birthday." Ginny was watching Harry, and he saw the colour drain from her face. "Oh, it gets better," he continued. "If we don’t get married, or don’t...how did Remus put it? If we don’t consummate our marriage within thirty-six hours of the ceremony, or don’t follow a whole host of crazy rules, your body’s time clock goes forward forty years and my... er... thing stops working. Forever."
"My birthday is in less than twelve days!" Ginny exclaimed. She brought her knees up and folded her arms across them, letting her head sink onto her arms. "It’s too fast," she muttered.
"I know!"
Ginny’s head jerked up. "You know when my birthday is?"
"Of course I know," Harry said testily. "That’s not the issue here."
"There’s no need to get shirty with me, Harry," she told him calmly.
"Well, if you’d show a little bit of sympathy here, I might be calmer about it," he retorted.
Ginny stood, brushed her skirt off and pinned Harry with a steely gaze. Harry stopped pacing.
"Listen here, Mister Potter. Neither of us asked for this. This isn’t just about you anymore, so I’d appreciate it if you’d consider someone other than yourself for a minute."
Harry guffawed. "I would if you’d tell me what you have against being married to me!"
"It’s complicated!" she shot back. "I’m not even sixteen yet. Do you expect me to just jump into your arms, smile, bat my eyelashes and fall in love with you?"
"Well, no," Harry spluttered. "But you could at least not act as though I’m half-troll or you’re about to be sick or something."
Ginny narrowed her eyes and stepped up to Harry. "With the way you’ve been acting, it’d be no small surprise if we found out you were half-troll."
"Hey!" Harry said as she strode past him. "At least I’m trying here."
Ginny stopped and turned around to face him. "You’re right," she said with a sigh. "I’m sorry. It’s just that I can’t quite grasp this whole situation."
"Tell me about it."
"All right," Ginny said with a sudden grin. "I will. You know all about my crush on you, so you know I’ve had...feelings for you ever since I was a little girl."
Harry nodded, not entirely sure where this conversation was going.
"Hermione told me she said I had given up on you. Is that right?"
He nodded again.
One of Ginny’s fingers found a piece of her long red hair and began to pull on it absently. "When I said that, I had mostly reckoned that you would never be attracted to me that way. So I started dating other fellows..."
"Michael Corner, Dean Thomas, and Colin Creevey," Harry said, counting them off on his fingers, giving a small shudder at the last name.
She smiled. "That’s right," she said. "You and I had become pretty good friends, and when I was dating Dean, I reckoned that it was better to be your friend than to not be anything to you. When I broke up with Colin, I realized something, though. I realized that none of the boys I was dating were what I needed and that what I needed, you had, Harry."
Looking at Ginny then, the rising moon sending a pale glow around her face, Harry had to wonder why he hadn’t ever used the word ‘pretty’ to describe her. "I have something you need?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to his ears.
"Yes, Harry. I realized that I’m still powerfully attracted to you."
Harry swallowed as she moved closer to him.
"But what you’ve just told me.... What we’ve got to do in twelve days. It’s just...it’s just crazy, Harry." Ginny put her hands on his bare arms and a shiver ran up his spine. "Do you see how crazy it is?"
"Barking mad," Harry said. "The whole concept. But you do understand the consequences, don’t you? What’s going to happen if we don’t get married?"
Ginny’s hands fell away from his arms and wound around her chest. "Yes. Mum went through menopause a couple of years ago. I’m all too familiar with the effects. Poor Dad, he really bore the brunt of the changes, though."
Harry shrugged and said, "Yeah, well, according to Remus, it’s not just menopause, the urges won’t go away, either. So imagine being ravenously hungry, having piles of food in front of you, smelling it, watching other people eating it, but your mouth is sealed shut and you can’t ever get it open to taste it."
Ginny made a face. "That would be miserable," she said.
Looking over her shoulder, Harry noticed that the lights in the Burrow had come on and people were filtering inside. "Listen, Ginny. I know this isn’t going to be easy, but let’s at least think about it, all right?"
"Just tell me one thing, Harry," Ginny said, pushing on his chin until he was looking at her. "How do you feel about me? Could you...could you love me?"
Harry fought off a flush of embarrassment. "Could I? Well, of course I could," he said, looking back at the Burrow. "It’s not like you’re ugly or anything."
"What?" she screeched. "So I’m just another pretty face to the great Harry Potter?"
"N-No," Harry stammered, back-pedalling. "I mean, you’re my friend. I just haven’t really ever looked at you that way before."
"No," Ginny repeated, still shooting daggers at him. "I suppose that’s the problem, isn’t it?"
She turned to leave, but Harry caught her arm. "Hey! What did I say?" he asked, grasping for control of the conversation.
"When you’ve sorted out how you feel about me, then we’ll talk about this, all right? Until then, I’d suggest you leave me alone."
Ginny struggled to release Harry’s grasp, but he wasn’t finished. "How I feel about you? You’ve never told me how you feel about me! Why do I have to be the one to sort things out first?"
A wicked grin flashed on Ginny’s face. "You don’t get it, do you, Harry? You’re the wizard, I’m the witch. You have the obligation to initiate things. I don’t even have a ring yet."
She made another attempt to leave, but Harry tightened his grip on her arm. Ginny grimaced and flung out her other hand. A bolt of yellow light flew from her fingers and zapped Harry below the belt.
"AHH!" yelled Harry, releasing Ginny and falling to the ground.
Then, without another glance at Harry, Ginny strode swiftly down the hill and into the Burrow.
"What just happened here?" Harry asked himself, as he examined the smoking hole in his trousers.
*
On the verge of both crying and screaming as many profanities as she could recall, Ginny stormed down the hill and through the tight knots of party guests. She ignored Hermione and Luna as they approached her from different directions, concern on the former’s face, airy indifference on the latter’s. Reaching the Burrow, Ginny flung open the kitchen door and raced for her room, where she could finally allow her control to slip.
Once the door was shut, she let out a feral cry and grabbed the first sufficiently heavy thing that was within reach, her Charms spellbook. It flew across the room and slammed into the wall, leaving a sizeable dent in the plaster, then bounced onto her bed.
It wasn’t enough.
Ginny grabbed her book bag and slung it around until the contents were strewn across the floor. Then she kicked at her chair and winced at the stabbing pain in her toe.
"Sodding Harry Potter!" she yelled, balling her fists and sinking to the floor.
Her door sprung open and Ginny heard her mother suck in a breath. "What in the name of Merlin...?"
Ginny didn’t answer, too afraid of letting loose with the many epithets swirling around in her head. Instead, she let her hair fall in front of her face and vainly hoped that her mother would leave well enough alone.
Instead, her mum pushed the strewn quills and parchment out of the way and sat awkwardly down on the floor in front of her. "Ginny? What’s got you upset, dear? Did I hear Harry’s name?"
A twitch started in Ginny’s eye at the mention of his name. Still, she remained silent, though her breathing was now becoming more rapid with the effort to not scream.
"Come here, pumpkin," Molly’s voice said soothingly and she took her daughter into her arms.
Ginny let her, not really caring at first, but as her mum’s hands rubbed her back, she found herself relaxing. Her fists unclenched and her emotions rushed towards the opposite end of the spectrum. Tears blurred her vision and Ginny gave a great shuddering sigh.
"I really do love him," Ginny said into her mum’s shoulder, not really talking to anyone. "He’s kind and caring and brave and..." She sighed again. "Such a great, stupid pillock."
Molly’s hands stilled and she pushed Ginny away slowly, looking into her eyes. "What did Harry do, sweetheart?"
Ginny pushed her hair out of her face, wiped her eyes and said, "It’s really not his fault. It’s sort of Dad’s fault."
"Arthur?" Molly asked. "What does your father have to do with Harry?"
With a grimace, Ginny thought quickly. She didn’t want her father to get into trouble with her mum, but all the same, he was the one responsible for this mess. "Well, he sort of promised Harry’s father that we’d be married and that promise is kind of...binding."
The colour drained from Molly’s face. "You mean like an arranged marriage?" she said, her voice rising in pitch at the last word.
Ginny nodded. "Exactly like that, except...there’s all these rules and — and punishments if we don’t do things exactly right, and I don’t think there’s a way out of it."
Molly’s jaw was set and she was staring at a point somewhere over Ginny’s shoulder.
"Mum?" Ginny asked quietly. "Don’t hurt Dad too badly. I know this is all really sudden, but the last part of the arrangement is that we have to be married by my next birthday or..."
Her mother’s eyes were getting wider and wider as Ginny spoke and when she stopped, Molly said, "Yes? Or what?"
"Or," Ginny said tentatively, "or Harry and I both lose the ability to make babies."
Ginny had never seen her mother’s face go from white to red so fast, nor had she ever seen Molly move quite as quickly as she did just then. The door to Ginny’s bedroom was blasted open, leaving it dangling precariously on one twisted hinge. Molly was at the bottom of the stairs before Ginny could even get off the floor.
*
Having discharged his duty to inform Ginny of their mutual predicament, Harry made a beeline for Arthur. The eldest Weasley was fiddling with the wireless receiver by the punch bowl, and as Harry approached, seemed to find the station he was looking for. A slow parade of music came out of the unit and the dancing resumed.
"Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked tentatively.
Turning around to face Harry, Arthur set his drink down and said, "Ah, Harry. How does it feel to be an adult?"
"Absolutely corking," Harry deadpanned. "Do you mind if Remus and I have a word with you?"
Remus had apparently spotted Harry and Arthur and was making his way over from where he had been dancing with Tonks.
"Well," Arthur started uncertainly, "of course, Harry. What can I do for you?"
Remus arrived and gave Harry a significant glance. Harry nodded and said, "I told her, Remus. She left a nice little something to remember her by, too."
When Harry pointed to the charred hole in his trousers and the red mark on his leg, Remus bit his lips together and said, "Yes, that can happen."
"Who did that?" asked Arthur. "It wasn’t Ginny, was it?"
"Actually," Harry replied, "that’s precisely what I need to ask you about."
Arthur looked from Harry to Remus and back again. "We’d better get ourselves a drink, then. This sounds too serious to be without some lubrication."
Remus raised his eyebrows but followed Arthur as they all re-filled their cups at the punch bowl.
Once they were settled on some chairs, Harry started in. "What do you know about the Wizarding Decree of 1016?"
*
"Let me get this straight," Arthur said ten minutes later. "Your father and I made a binding, arranged, magical marriage. Now you’ve got to marry my daughter by her next birthday, or you both become the equivalent of an unwilling monk and nun?"
Harry’s face was in his hands and Remus sighed. "That about sums it up," he replied for Harry.
"What we’d like to know," Harry said, bringing his head back up, "is how on earth did this all happen? Did you really pledge to marry your daughter off to me?"
Arthur hesitated and opened his mouth, as if to say something. Then he closed it again and let out a breath. This repeated a few more times before he finally said, "I’m not entirely sure. There was one time James and I were on an assignment for the Order. He may have said something like, ‘I’ll marry my son to your daughter if we get out of this alive’ but...I didn’t think it would be of any significance. I mean, it’s just one of those things you say in moments like that."
Harry snorted and Remus leaned back in his chair, folding his arms and stretching out his legs. "Well, it seems that it was a binding contract, Arthur. You and James made a pledge. You were both purebloods, you shook hands on it, and you both survived the ordeal, making the contract binding."
When Remus finished, Arthur drained the rest of his drink and with one word summed up how Harry felt. "Blimey."
"I’ll say. So, what do I do now?" asked Harry. "Ginny’s mad at me for Merlin knows what. She doesn’t want anything to do with me, let alone get married to me, and we’ve got twelve days to sort this out before I lose the ability to do something I haven’t even had the chance to do yet!"
Both Arthur and Remus started chuckling, annoying Harry even more. "Ginny’s an emotional young lady, Harry," Arthur soothed. "Much like her mother, if there’s any doubt, but I...."
However, Arthur didn’t get a chance to finish, for out of the Burrow came the very person they were discussing. Molly Weasley was walking as fast as Harry had ever seen her move without running, and as she made her way to their location, Harry could hear the same high-pitched, high-volume voice that made her Howlers legendary.
"ARTHUR HAROLD WEASLEY! What in the name of Merlin were you thinking? How utterly careless and irresponsible could one wizard be? Selling off his daughter’s love to a family we hardly knew!"
As Molly approached, Arthur rose to his feet, hands behind his back and head bowed. Remus and Harry rose also, in a show of solidarity, though Harry thought that many of Molly’s points quite closely summed up his own feelings on the matter.
"Now, Molly, dear," Arthur began, when she had stopped in front of him.
"Don’t you ‘Molly, dear’ me. I’ve half a mind to hex your bits so they don’t work properly, either." Arthur blanched, but Molly wasn’t finished. "And what’s worse? We have twelve days to figure something out. Twelve days!"
"Yes, Molly, you see...."
"I don’t want to hear one word of excuse from you," she said, her finger wagging accusingly at him. "We need to go to the Minister and have this whole affair overturned at once. It’s the only proper thing to do."
"W-Well," Arthur spluttered. "It’s not that simple, I’m afraid."
Remus, apparently seeing that Molly was ready to have another go at Arthur, stepped into the conversation. "As egregious as this is, he’s right, Molly. Dumbledore took a look at the rules and it’s quite explicit that any attempt to break the contract would result in the immediate inflicting of the punishment. There are only two outcomes to this, I’m afraid."
Molly looked from Remus to a thoroughly dejected Arthur, and finally, to Harry. "Oh, my dear boy," she said, and enveloped him in a tight hug. "And you don’t even have parents here to demand explanations from."
She pulled away, but kept her arms around him. "We’ll think of something, Harry. You and Ginny will be all right, no matter what we have to do."
For the first time since Remus had appeared at his party, Harry felt a small surge of hope that, even though his friendship with Ginny was currently ruined, they would find a way to mend things.
"As for you, Arthur," Molly said, releasing Harry and turning to face her husband. "I don’t expect to see you darken the doorway to our bedroom for at least a week."
She turned on her heel and walked stiffly, slowly, proudly back to the Burrow. Remus’s eyes were dancing and Arthur was doing a reasonable impression of a goldfish.
"Well, Harry," Remus said. "Do try to get some sleep tonight. I suspect that things will be much better after some rest."
Not the least bit convinced, Harry reluctantly followed Molly and walked into the Burrow. When he entered the kitchen, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.
"Quick, Harry," Hermione whispered, shooting a nervous glance at the stairs. "You had better come with us to the living room."
"All right," Harry said, but was instantly quieted by Hermione’s frantically waving arms.
"Shhh," she hissed. "Come on."
He followed them into the living room and sat on the sofa across from the loveseat they occupied. "What’s going on?"
Harry shrugged. "I don’t really know."
Then, for the third time that evening, he related how his father had left him an inheritance, but that the inheritance was neither wealth, nor property, only an unending headache involving another redhead in the life of a Potter.
When Harry had finished, Ron’s jaw was threatening to hit the table, Hermione was looking like someone who would rather be eating glass and Harry just wanted to be asleep. Then, without warning, Hermione rose and walked over to the fireplace.
"Where are you going?" Ron asked, now apparently capable of coherent speech.
Hermione grabbed a handful of Floo powder and, acting as if he hadn’t said anything, said, "Light a fire for me, Ron."
"Tell me where you’re going first," he demanded, but took out his wand just the same.
"To the Ministry. We’ve got to do something."
"Do something?" he replied. "What could we possibly do? Harry’s in a mess bigger than anything we’ve ever dealt with before and charging into an empty Ministry building isn’t going to help."
Hermione set her jaw and said, "You light that fire and I’ll worry about what’s useless and what’s not, Ronald Weasley."
With a flick of his wand, a cheery fire burned in the grate and Hermione was gone in a flash of green flames.
"Completely mad, she is," Ron said, returning to his spot on the sofa.
"Yeah," agreed Harry. "But you have to love her."
Ron crooked an eyebrow and said, "Is that why you’re upset with this whole marriage thing? Because you love Hermione?"
It had been a source of endless amusement for Harry and Ron to tease each other about the other one being in love with Hermione. "Nah," said Harry with the wave of a hand. "She’s too bossy for me. You, on the other hand, need a girl like that in your life to keep you humble."
"Me?" Ron said with feigned shock. "I like my girls curvy and quiet."
"Yeah, right," Harry said noncommittally. "You and Victor Krum."
"What’s Vicky got to do with anything?" Ron retorted. Harry thought he could see the humour leave Ron’s eyes.
"I’m just saying that you both have similar taste in women, and they don’t involve curves or quiet." Harry smirked at his friend’s silence, but was instantly regretful when Ron turned the tables.
"So you must be right happy with this whole thing with Ginny." The smug look on Ron’s face made him sick. "I mean, you’ve been pining over her for at least a year and now you’ve got your chance to ask her properly."
"Since when did the idea of me and your sister appeal to you so much?" Harry asked to deflect the attack.
Ron’s smile, if it were possible, widened. "So, you admit it? You do fancy her?"
"Even if I did," Harry temporized, "she’s not exactly tripping over herself to get to me, now, is she?"
Ron sat back in his seat and his grin changed from an expression of sadistic pleasure to a grimace. "No, I suppose not. One thing about Weasley women you’ve got to learn is how to distract them from what they think they want with what they really want."
"Huh?" Harry asked, thoroughly confused.
"If you know what a girl wants," Ron started explaining more slowly, "but she’s upset at you for something stupid, say...you said she looked fat — then all you have to do is give her what she wants in the first place."
"Ron," Harry said, shaking his head. "You aren’t making a bit of sense."
"What I’m saying is, you know she wants you — you know she wants you to sweep her off her feet and do things properly. Make the best of the situation and she’ll forget all about how much she hates you right now."
Harry rubbed at his temples with his middle fingers and pushed his headache out through his nostrils. "So how do I know this? What makes you so sure that she wants me in the first place?"
The smug look returned to Ron’s face and he tapped his head. "I’m her brother, I understand how a Weasley thinks; I live above her, I hear almost everything that’s said in her room. I’ve got inside information."
Ron walked into the kitchen and leaving Harry sitting and wondering why in the world Ginny would want anything to do with him — especially now that he’d messed things up so badly.