Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the computer I'm typing on. But please enjoy anyway.
"What are you doing here?" Ron scowled, his face twisting with disgust toward the familiar, pug-faced girl. The limp black hair that harshly framed pale, pointed features and red-rimmed eyes. He had only wanted a moment to himself, a quick gathering of thoughts before he set off with Harry and Hermione. A last goodbye to Hogwarts that had now officially been ruined by the sight of the Slytherin girl, who was crouched low beside a tree on the very outskirts of the Forbidden Forrest. "Shouldn't you be busy plotting the rise of…of You Know Who?"
"The Dark Lord doesn't need my help." Pansy wiped a hand over her eyes furiously as if to rid herself of any last strains of emotion and pulled herself to her feet. "There are those who are trained to help Him. Don't try to talk about what you don't understand, Weasel."
"Like your ickle boyfriend Malfoy?" He sneered, ignoring the feeling that he should leave her alone, that maybe her tears were punishment enough. They weren't. Dumbledore was dead. "You miss him? On the run from the Ministry and most of the wizarding world, isn't he? Really doing well for himself now!"
She narrowed dark eyes at him as her mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile. "I'd be more worried about your own girlfriend if I were you. Once He comes back to power, the first to go will be those dirty mudbloods."
He thought of Hermione, muffling sobs against the fabric of his robe at the funeral and felt his temper rise. Snape and Draco had escaped relatively untouched, Dumbledore was gone, and Ron had never felt so helpless, so completely useless, as when Hermione curled up into his side and cried against his shoulder. The memory, however, now seemed tainted by the smug, tear-stained face of Pansy Parkinson staring up at him. He jerked his arm toward the wand in his pocket, but unfortunately for Ron, she'd had hers behind her back the entire time.
"Expelliarmus!" His wand soared easily from his pocket into the space behind him. "You Weasleys really are stupid." A sense of panic spread through him as he attempted to inch his way back toward his wand. She pointed the tip of her own thin, well-crafted weapon directly at his chest, freezing him in his tracks. "I'd hate to even touch that filthy thing. Pathetic. Tell me, Weasely, are even your wands hand-me-downs?" She steadily circled around him until she reached the wand, kicking it further away with the toe of her shoe. "You'll see," she spoke haughtily, a few particularly stubborn tears still trailing down her cheeks, wand held out and ready. "He'll be back. Draco and the others will help bring the Dark Lord to power and then he'll come back for me."