A/N: The title is really terrible, but I guess it's better than Blaise, Pansy and some other stuff in the present tense which was the original title.
Response to The Weather Challenge by Wotcher-Tonks.
This takes place on Pansy and Blaise's sixth year, few days after Christmas.
Blaise puts his hands to the windowsill and shivers suddenly. It's cold here. Snow falls from the sky and piles against windows, the wind gets stronger all the time. He can't see anything else than masses of white and realises how stupid it is to stand there, in the cold.
He should have gone home for the holidays, he thinks and then clenches the sill. There are so few students spending the Christmas holiday in Hogwarts, not even a dozen. Only four Slytherins, Blaise, two younger ones he doesn't know... and Pansy.
Blaise swallows and lets go of the windowsill. It's going to be quite a blizzard this night, and dreadfully cold here in the dungeons. If only... He turns his back to the window and looks at the common room instead, eyes searching the familiar figure.
She sits on the sofa near the fireplace. She looks relaxed and – yes, happy. These last days have been peaceful, quiet, nice, the like she would enjoy. Blaise can remember how she once told she loathed Christmases she had to spend in big crowds and noises.
Blaise can remember almost every word she has ever said to him.
He walks to her and sits down to the other end of the sofa. He welcomes the warmth of the fire, Pansy smiles faintly. The other two Slytherins have already gone to their dormitories, so it's just the two of them in the common room.
He looks at Pansy – Pansy looks at the fire.
"Why didn't you go home?"
Pansy bites her fingernails. "Mum and Dad went to France, to visit Mum's sister. I would've wanted to go too, but you know how I can't stand Cousin Irene – and the feeling is mutual, mind you. So I decided to stay here." She sighs and lifts her feet to the sofa, knees against her chest. "And you?"
"Mum is..." Blaise hesitates and Pansy's fingers touch his before withdrawing. He finds suddenly hard to remember what he was about to say.
"Mum is engaged", he splutters, swallowing the word 'again'.
Pansy's eyes are bright and knowing. "And you are not happy about it?"
"She is", Blaise says. "Happy, I mean. That is the most important thing. And he adores my mother, and is even willing to like me. It's not his fault I don't like him."
"I see."
"It doesn't matter so much anyway", he continues. He has already said too much, why not to continue? The clock on the wall chimes eleven times, Pansy looks confused. "I prefer spending a Christmas with you, Pansy."
She doesn't say anything for a moment, then a quiet "Thank you" is being murmured. A silence follows. Blaise would want to say something – the war has already caused far too many silences – but can't think of anything to say and lets the silence continue.
"Blaise..."
He turns his head to see Pansy, and is surprised to realise how close to each other they are sitting.
"Yes?"
It's quiet for a while, then she looks away and room feels so much colder. The wind howls outside.
"Nothing, nothing. I guess I'd better go to sleep."
She gets up and smooths her hair.
"Good night, Blaise."
"Good night, Pansy."
Blaise watches how Pansy starts to walk away and then suddenly stops.
"Hey, there's a blizzard outside", she says, sounding amazed. "So tomorrow there will be a lot of snow around..." Her face lights up. "Remember how we used to play together when we were little children? I loved it. We could have a snowball fight tomorrow, right? For old times' sake?"
Blaise thinks of Pansy, laughing, her clothes and dark hair all snowy, snowflakes on her eyelashes. Maybe...
He smiles. "That sounds good."