Ron's blue eyes nearly popped in the moonlight and the light of his wand, swiveling between his only daughter and the son of that infernal ferret. "Like ruddy sodding hell you're running off to elope! Hermione," he turned desperately to his wife. "Back me up!" Hermione worried her bottom lip, perhaps attempting to come up with something more placating to head off their daughter; in the interim, Kreacher the house elf pushed between the group of adults and folded his arms across his elderly frame with a self-satisfied smirk.