Disclaimer: I am entirely right-less.

A/N: Sorry I missed last week. Fanfic was acting up.

Challenge: Ring Around the Boyfriend

Pairing: Daphne Greengrass/Ron Weasley

Prompt: Fire

We were sixteen the first time it happened. (And the last ime. But that's not the point.) Me and Ron Weasley. We had detention at the same time, from McGonagall, unsurprisingly. She didn't like me, and she didn't really care about him. We were sitting in her room doing lines – mine were "I will not hex students who do better than me in class" and his were "It is not appropriate to sit in the back of the classroom and have phrelations with other students." As we sat there writing, we kept glancing out each other. Then, McGonagall had to run out for some reason, so it was just me and him.

"So," I said, smiling at him and throwing down my quill. "Couldn't keep your hands off Lavender long enough to do your work?"

He scowled at me. Unexpectedly, nerves erupted in my stomach. That hadn't happened since Draco in first year. "Shut it and mind your own, Greengrass," he snapped. I smirked at him, noticing the way his red hair curled at the ends.

"Well, I guess I just can't resist talking to you," I informed him boldly. His ears turned bright pink, which was oddly endearing.

"I – you – er – you –" he spluttered at me, his entire face the color of a ripe tomato.

"What, not used to girls talking to you? Other, that is, than that leech you like to make out with," I said pleasantly. He seemed unable to speak, so I stood and walked over to him. I sat down on top of his desk.

"Hey! Get – get off!" he exclaimed, shocked out of silence.

"Hm… No, I don't think I will," I said slowly. Then, seductive, I leaned forward and kissed him deeply. Unfortunately, he pulled away, looking a little frightening in his anger.

"Get off of me, you slag!" he said loudly, and I jumped off his desk, taken aback. I'd been called my fair share of names before, but never by a guy I was interested in and trying to get to.

"Excuse me?" I snapped, getting in his face. "Who the hell do you think you are to say that to me?"

"You just tried to – I have a girlfriend!" He stood up so I wasn't standing above him, and it put him much taller than I was.

I laughed harshly. "As if that matters to any guy! All you want is sex, I've been with enough guys to know that for a fact."

Ron glared at me. "That's not true!" he retorted angrily. "Not every guy is like that! Maybe every Slytherin bloke, but not the rest of us!"

"Okay, yeah, sure. Then why are you with Lavender Brown? It's obvious you don't give a shit about her, you're in love with Hermione Granger, aren't you? Admit it, every guy just wants sex." I folded my arms. Some small part of me wanted him to prove me wrong, but the more realistic part knew it was impossible.

Now, the blush drained away to be replaced by paper-white. "I – that's – it's complicated!" he stammered, no longer yelling.

"Oh," I said, catching on. "You don't know how to break things off with her."

He gave up trying to avoid the subject. "Yeah. Pretty much."

I shrugged. "Just tell her, 'oi, Lav, you're a leech and I don't want to see you anymore.' It's not that hard."

He ruffled his red hair. "It is that hard, though." He sighed, then shook his head and straightened his shoulders. "But anyway. It's not your business."

"I'm just trying to help. You don't have to be rude," I said sternly, smiling to show that I wasn't serious.

He looked a little uncomfortable with the flirting. I assumed it was the whole Gryffindor/Slytherin thing. Before I had the chance to comment on it, though, he got mad again. "I'm not being rude, it's really not your business!"

I decided it was time to take a more direct approach. "Oh, just shut up," I muttered, then leaned in and kissed him again, with a more insistent edge this time. To my pleasure, he didn't even bother pulling away; he returned the kiss heatedly without a pause.

I'm not quite sure how it progressed so quickly, but suddenly I found myself half-naked on the floor with a fiery blood traitor, and not at all unhappy about it. He was surprisingly sexy with his shirt off – he had a better body than I'd always imagined.

Ahem. Not that I'd ever wondered about his body. Really. I swear.

Anyway. Just as we were getting to the good part, McGonagall walked back in. Not one of my proudest moments – being caught rolling around on the floor with a Gryffindor in the middle of a detention. He got like a month's worth detentions for that. McGonagall referred me to Slughorn, since he was my Head of House. I got away lucky – only one detention, since he liked me.

And even better, Ron and I continued to meet. He didn't break up with Lavender, which did kind of hurt, but I didn't expect him to. He wasn't that kind of guy. He couldn't hurt a girl who trusted him. He didn't think I cared about him, so he didn't worry about hurting me. And he never even thought of breaking up with her for me.

We would meet in the Room of Requirement in the middle of the night. At first it was only on the weekends, but as we grew more and more attracted to each other, it became more often. Almost every day, in fact. I couldn't get enough of that boy. He was the first guy I'd "dated" who would do anything other than make out with me. He wasn't necessarily talkative, but he would hold me sometimes. Just gently holding me as we'd lie next to each other. And he remembered my birthday. No guy had ever been around long enough to remember that before. He snuck me out to Hogsmeade and we had lunch at the Three Broomsticks. And then we went back to our Room to... properly celebrate my turning seventeen.

But it couldn't last forever.

After all, we were nothing but flames. We burned out in our passion for each other. We fought and had sex. I guess that was pretty much what our relationship was for him – an angry escape from a clingy girlfriend and a confusing best friend.

It was more for me, though. Ron Weasley was the first guy I truly fell for.

He was my first fire.

I wasn't enough for him, though. He hurt me in the end. He wasn't the first one to hurt me, but his was the worst. He left Lavender first, and then, a few blissful months later, he hurt me as well. I'd already known it couldn't possibly last, but for some reason I let myself believe it would anyway.

It made me a different person. I was already cynical about men in general; I'd been hurt in all the worst ways by strangers and friends. But I'd never been heartbroken. Not until Ronald Bilius Weasley walked away from me with a relieved smile on his lips only seven short months after we got together.

It was my own fault. I was always told not to play with fire. But I did, and the burns and scars it left behind will never go away.