"…and Ernie MacMillian with Pansy Parkinson," said Gerald Renton, who was a Hufflepuff and Head Boy, finishing off the list of Prefects who were to patrol together.
Ernie looked up from his notes, which he had been taking mechanically to gape at the Head Boy. He caught glances from Hermione Granger and Hannah Abbott that seemed to say, 'Rough Luck.' Pansy was sitting three seats down the table and opposite him. She looked up from filing her nails and glared at the Head Boy.
"Me," she said, sitting up, "with him?" She swept a criticizing glance at Ernie. "I think not. Could you switch me with Granger?"
"No," Gerald said. "Hermione's with Malfoy, and that's final. Sorry, Parkinson, but there's no arguments. Meeting over, everyone's dismissed." He got up and left with the Head Girl, Beatrice Ryjik who was a Gryffindor whose parents were Russian.
Soon the only two left in the room were Ernie and Pansy, who were looking at each other distastefully.
"So," Ernie said, coughing, "where d'you want to get together for our patrols?"
"Sod off, MacMillian," Pansy replied. "I'll do my bit, and you do yours, but I'm not going to patrol with you." She picked up her bag and started to leave when Ernie called after her.
"Who d'you think you are?" he exclaimed. "I've worked hard for six years to be a Prefect, and I'm not going to have my record besmirched by the likes of you!"
"'Besmirched'?" she asked, smirking. "Hufflepuffs. The House with the ancient vocabulary. Come up with something better MacMillian, and perhaps I'll waste my time with you."
Ernie stood there fuming as she glided from the room, filing her nails as she went. He shoved his hands into his pockets and left the Meeting Room, heading in the opposite direction.
"Night Hermione, night Draco," he said to the two shadowy figures in an alcove, behind a statue. Ernie had gotten used to seeing Hermione and Draco hiding in some obscure alcove, "spending time" together, as Hermione put it. He didn't mind as long as the inter-House relations were kept out of the Meeting Room. Or the Library.
The night of his first Prefect patrol, he stood in the Entrance Hall for half and hour waiting for Pansy before giving up. As he started up the marble staircase, he heard a clicking noise from the stairs that lead to the dungeons.
"MacMillian," Pansy called. "Hold on, I'm coming." He stood in the middle of the staircase as he waited for her to climb up.
"Why'd you come?" he asked.
"Don't," she said, adjusting her robe, "ask." She looked up at him. "Well? You ready or what, MacMillian?" She started up the staircase, not looking back. Then he did something surprising. He laughed, and followed her.
"You know," he said, following her, "I never thought that Slytherins had much of a sense of humor."
"Oh, we have so much more," she purred. "But we can joke around, just so you know."
"I have a feeling," Ernie said, "that this won't be so bad."
Pansy looked at him, surprised. "So do I," she admitted.