Harry stepped forwards, invading Ron’s space. "Let me guess, Weasley. You think you’re entitled to marry Hermione, just because your parents’ parents’ parents’—et cetera, et cetera—parents’ parents were magical. Despite the fact that you make Hermione cry, you already expect her to do your homework for you, and you eat like a pig. Here’s a word that your Inbred mother should have said to you more, but didn’t: No. As in, No, I’m not breaking my betrothal to Hermione, just because some ginger-haired Inbred demands it."