"I haven't done anything with Miss Belby," Ford insisted, making anther grab for the magazine and this time managing to latch onto the corner before she could pull it away. "I don't know where anyone got the idea —" he started, before drifting off to quickly skim the article, or at least what he could see of it while it was still firmly in his sister's hands.

"I can't believe we let you read this trash," he said as he finished, letting go of the magazine and retreating to his chair, shaking his head. It had no basis in fact whatsoever, except that he had spoken to Miss Belby twice, as the article stated. But if speaking to a woman was all that was necessary to form an unbreakable attachment or, apparently, conceive a child, he thought a great many of the unmarried women of wizarding England would find themselves in similar trouble.

Before he reached his chair, a horrible thought occurred to him. "How many women read that trash?" he asked, already a little afraid of her answer.