For Em. Chag Sameach, my darling!

Also for

Advent Calendar: fake dating

Bucket List: Weasley jumper

Showtime, Rent: pay

Count Your Buttons: Ginsy

Emporium: ball/party

Bex's Basement, Em: femslash

Christmas Market, cranberry chutney: Ginny

Present Wrapping: snowflake

Snowball Fight: snow

Word Count: 1092

Pansy hates the smirk that plays at Ginny's lips. Having to come to her for help is painful enough; she doesn't need the other woman gloating. Still, she bites her tongue. The last thing she needs is to run Ginny now.

"I'm sorry," Ginny says, and her smirk twists into an annoyingly bright grin. "Can you please repeat that?"

Pansy inhales sharply. Her fingers twitch, and she's half tempted to hex the other woman. "Look, can you help me or not, Weasley? I'll pay you."

Ginny rolls her eyes and folds her slender arms over her chest. "I don't need your money," she says simply. "But you can't blame me for having a few questions."

For several moments, neither of them speak. Pansy bites the inside of her cheek. It isn't every day that an old enemy from school shows up and asks you to be their fake girlfriend. She supposes she does owe her an explanation.

"I want to be disowned." She shrugs. "I've grown bored with my father's expectations, especially now that he has it in his head that I need a husband. Unfortunately, the only way to leave the Parkinson family is through scandal."

Ginny chuckles. "Are you implying I'm scandalous?"

Pansy rolls her eyes. "Please. Showing up with a female partner is one thing. Showing up with a female partner who happens to be a blood traitor?"

Ginny's brown eyes twinkle with mischief. She nods before holding out her hand, which Pansy accepts in a firm handshake. "It would be my pleasure to scandalize your family," she says. "I'll see you tomorrow night?"

She can't help but grin. The thought of being forced into a marriage simply because it's a tradition has been too much for her. Now, she can be free. "It's a date."

…

"What the hell is that?" Pansy asks when Ginny holds up the maroon jumper, emblazoned with the letter P.

Obviously she knows what it is, but she has so many questions. The most important one is does she think Pansy will actually wear that.

Ginny rolls her eyes and shakes her head, brushing the rogue snowflakes from her red hair. "My mum makes them," she explains, gesturing to hers. "This one is Percy's, and since your names conveniently start with the same letter…"

Pansy understands now, and she has to laugh. It's so obnoxiously perfect. To make everything even better, they're going to pretend to be that couple: the one that wears matching outfits and does literally everything together. "Oh, you are brilliant."

With a laugh, Ginny tosses the jumper at her. "Coming from you, that means a lot."

…

Her family's little party is in full swing when they arrive. All the guests are dressed in their finest suits and gowns. Once, the thought of wearing a jumper and being so out of place would have terrified her. Now, she holds her head high and slips her hand into Ginny's.

She can do this. She can pretend, and everything will be perfect.

"Dance with me?" Ginny asks.

Before Pansy can even answer, the other girl leads her through the crowd and onto the dancefloor. Couples quickly move out of their way, shooting dirty looks their way. Pansy doesn't care, and her apathy feels so bloody liberating.

Ginny proves to be a surprisingly graceful dancer. She leads Pansy skillfully, moving perfectly in time with the music.

"Where'd you learn to dance like that?" Pansy asks.

"That's my little secret," Ginny answers, pulling Pansy closer as a slower, more intimate song begins to play.

There's something about the closeness that makes her forget that it's all an act. When Pansy looks into Ginny's eyes…

She shakes her head. This isn't real, and letting those lines blur is dangerous. When this is all over, they will go their separate ways. Ginny will go back to her promising career playing Quidditch, and Pansy will resume trying to figure herself out.

It's just pretend, just a means to an end.

"Ahem. I think you've caused quite enough of a spectacle, don't you."

Pansy swallows dryly when she hears that stern voice. She looks up and finds herself looking into her father's dark, angry eyes. Though she's trembling inside, she manages a small grin. "Lovely party, as always, Father. Have you met my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley?"

The shade of red that stains his olive skin is terrifying. Pansy knows what his temper is like; she remembers all too well the devastation he can cause. She can only hope that he won't do anything extreme with so many guests around.

"I think we should talk," he tells her.

"I would rather dance."

Everyone's looking now. Pansy's heart races within her chest, but she refuses to show how nervous she is. Her lips remain pulled into a smile, and she keeps her hand in Ginny's. The other girl's warmth seems to make her bolder.

"Do you think any man would want a wife who—"

"I think," Ginny says, cutting him off and stepping forward, "it should be fairly obvious she doesn't want a man." She glances at Pansy. "Do you want a husband, my love?"

"Not particularly."

Ginny nods, her expression more serious than the situation calls for. She turns her attention back to Pansy's father, offering him a sweet smile. "In short, Mr. Parkinson, you can take your archaic, traditional bullshit and sod off," she says. "Pansy has made her choice."

…

There's something strangely satisfying about being thrown out of her childhood home. Pansy laughs, throwing her head back as the snow caresses her skin as it falls. "That was brilliant."

"How's it feel?"

Pansy starts to answer, but she hesitates. Her dark eyes flicker to her hand, which is still holding Ginny's like her life depends on it. "Thank you," she says.

"I enjoyed it."

She still doesn't let go of Ginny's hand, and Ginny doesn't make a move to get away. Why should this matter? Why should she care if Ginny holds her hand or not.

"We should go," Ginny adds.

Pansy shakes her head. "I'm not ready for the night to end yet. Can we…?" She doesn't know what she wants. The unfinished question hangs in the air, and she hopes Ginny can make sense of it.

"Whatever you want."

Pansy swallows dryly. She's being ridiculous. It's fake, and there's nothing that can change that.

And yet…

She leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to the other woman's lips. "Can we make it real?" she asks.

Ginny chuckles. "It's always been real for me."