Ginny smiled at the woman and pointed to her own butterbeer. "I'm afraid that pitcher is all on you." Ginny wasn't daft enough to accept drinks from strangers. She'd survived a war and heard countless stories of those that had been more trusting.
Before Ginny could make another Quidditch comment, a familiar voice had greeted her. Ginny looked up to see Ron, and smiled, "Oh, yes, of course. Ron, this is..." Ginny looked at the woman, "actually, we've just met."
Ginny felt a bit foolish, she was just waiting for an over-protective big brother moment. This woman was a stranger, but she felt so familiar. It was difficult to put a finger on exactly why.