"All right, anything else?" Ron looked up and asked.
"Gotta be good at Quidditch." Draco finished, then quickly added, "Even if she's not in Slytherin, that's fine."
Ron, eyes bleary with drink, stuck out a hand and started counting off on his fingers for Draco: "I remember them all! Pure Blood, good-looking, really strong, plays Quidditch well, doesn't have to be in Slytherin…"
At that point, Ron suddenly stopped.
Because he'd just thought of someone who pretty much perfectly fit Draco's criteria.
The reason it was "pretty much perfectly" instead of "perfectly" was because that person was none other than Ron's little sister, Ginny Weasley.
"Malfoy!" Ron suddenly bellowed in tragic fury. "You've actually got your eye on my sister!"
"No, when did I…" Draco still hadn't realized how serious this sounded, but once Ron said it out loud, it really did open up a whole new world for him.
This…
This was seriously a path he'd never even considered.
Thinking of Ginny's pretty face, Draco felt like… maybe it wasn't impossible.
Gryffindor is Gryffindor, whatever. She's from a Pure-blood Family, isn't she!
As for the Weasley family being poor?
Does that even matter? Is that important?
This young master has never judged girls by their family's finances anyway—none of them are richer than mine!
Seeing Draco stop arguing, Ron knew full well Draco might actually be interested in his sister.
He let out a roar and, using the momentum of the alcohol, launched himself at Draco.
"Malfoy!"
"Wait a sec!" Draco was sobered a little by Ron's yell. He hurriedly said, "Don't get the wrong idea, Weasley—your sister already has a boyfriend, doesn't she? That guy in your House who's pretty dark-skinned… Dean Thomas, with Muggle African blood, right?"
Hearing Draco's words, Ron suddenly choked up.
He let his fist—about the size of a sandbag—drop limply.
If Draco hadn't brought up Dean Thomas, it would've been fine; but the moment he did, Ron suddenly felt that Malfoy might actually be… acceptable.
At least Malfoy was a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than that Thomas guy—
People, huh. It's all about comparison.
"Why don't you just go after my sister then." Ron sighed, covering his face with both hands. "I really don't think much of that Dean Thomas at all, he seriously doesn't deserve Ginny, okay?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley." Draco said righteously, "She has a boyfriend. How could I possibly cut in?"
The three of them suddenly fell into a weird silence.
"What about you, Ron?" Neville, who'd been madly eating melon on the sidelines, tossed out a fresh bit of gossip. "Who do you like?"
However, Ron's snores were already rumbling.
Neville reached out and shook Ron, only to find he couldn't wake him at all.
"This guy." Neville shook his head helplessly.
How could you possibly wake someone who's pretending to be asleep?
"Forget it, let's just go." Draco stood up and helped support Neville. "I'll walk you back first—where's your room again?"
After the two of them staggered out of the room, Ron finally opened his eyes.
He sat up, hesitated for a long time, then finally pulled out his Crystal Ball and opened Hermione's chat.
"I'm sorry." He sent Hermione a message.
He didn't have to wait long—Hermione's reply came almost instantly.
"It's okay," she said.
...
In his room, Harry had no idea how dramatic things had gotten out there; he was busy lecturing Cassandra. It only took an hour to turn Cassandra from haughty and untouchable into a tearful puddle begging for mercy.
He'd just sat up to drink some water when Harry noticed his Crystal Ball pinging.
"Is that a message from Vivi?"
He muttered to himself, reaching for the Crystal Ball, only to see the message was from Ron.
"Mate, Hermione and I made up!"
With it came a reaction image—this was a new feature Mr. Leme had just developed.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, in the middle of the night," Harry grumbled in pure disdain.
Middle of the night and you're messaging me—for this?
Unbelievable.
What he didn't know was that Ron hadn't only messaged him; he'd very democratically spammed everyone in his contacts.
The next morning, Ron's vibe was completely different from everyone else's.
He was all cheerful and bouncing with joy, while the others were glaring daggers at him.
Clearly, most people present had received his midnight messages.
As they ate, Mrs. Weasley was giving her final briefing.
"Tomorrow is Christmas," she said. "And on the third day after Christmas, it's Miss Fari and Little Sirius's wedding. We've got to get everything ready—"
"How are we supposed to get ready, Mum?" the Weasley Twins asked in perfect unison. "Should we prepare a surprise for Little Sirius and Miss Fari at the wedding?"
"You had better not." Mrs. Weasley said sternly, her expression serious. "If I find out you're planning any sort of prank at that kind of occasion, don't blame me when I deal with you! Did you hear me?"
"Got it, Mum!" the Twins chorused, sounding utterly deflated.
But the way their eyes were darting around said loud and clear that things were not going to be that simple.
"Let's finish the work we didn't manage to do yesterday," Mrs. Weasley suggested. "Besides the sitting room, each of your rooms should get a bit of decoration too. It's the holidays, after all—we need some Christmas atmosphere."
"Okay, Mum." Ron picked up the platter of braised meat and asked Hermione, "Want some braised meat, Hermione?"
He was so eager to please that he didn't hold it steady; the platter slipped right out of his hands.
Luckily Hermione reacted fast, flicking her Magic Wand so that the spilled meat rose into the air and obediently fell back onto the plate.
"You're just as clumsy as Tonks," Fleur said to Ron after planting a kiss on Bill. "She always knocks things over—"
"I invited dear Tonks," Mrs. Weasley said, thumping the carrots down and glaring at Fleur. "But she doesn't want to come… have you talked to her lately, Remus?"
"I have, but Tonks wants to go back to her own family, doesn't she?"
"Mm." Mrs. Weasley said regretfully, "Maybe. I get the feeling she's planning to spend Christmas alone."
She shot Lupin an annoyed look, as if getting Fleur as a daughter-in-law instead of Tonks was entirely his fault.
Harry glanced over at Fleur, who was feeding Bill pasta with her own fork, and felt Mrs. Weasley had already lost that battle.
"Sometimes, when it comes to who the kids choose, there's nothing parents can do." Harry murmured to Cassandra.
But Cassandra felt there was something more behind Harry's words. After all, at the beginning, her father Septimus had really disliked Harry too, but in the end he'd still compromised.
He hadn't really had a choice—she was his only daughter, the kind he was afraid would fall if he held her in his hand, and melt if he kept her in his mouth…
Meanwhile at the table, Ron was still constantly fawning over Hermione, serving her a bit of this and a bit of that.
Harry was starting to feel a little regretful; if he hadn't persuaded Ron to apologize to Hermione back then, would Ron be a lot less annoying today?
If he'd known, he would've let them stew until after Christmas before patching things up, right? Wouldn't that have kept everyone's nerves a bit calmer?
"By the way, when's Vivi coming?" Pabi, sitting on Harry's left, suddenly asked. "I haven't seen Vivi in quite a while."
"No set time yet." Harry glanced up at the clock. "But I figure she should be here before five this evening no matter what. It's Christmas—she's the Minister of Magic, sure, but she should still give herself a break and spend the holidays with family, shouldn't she?"