Ron hadn't expected to have a good time at Draco and Luna's housewarming if he was completely honest, He went out of obligation - a former DA member, having seen himself on the friend mural on her bedroom wall, a very peripheral relationship on his part if he was honest, But he played Quidditch, the drinks were flowing, the company was mixed if not interesting. He'd already discussed relative wizarding issues with Hannah Abbott, Astoria Greengreass, and Cormac McLaggen, It was a bit surreal if he was to be honest. He'd spent his entire formative years learning that house lines meant everything, but now in the real world it was every man for himself. He'd seen Harry personally joking around with Blaise Zambini, and he felt a bit emboldened to branch out himself.
Not that he was entirely sure that this meant that he had to endear himself to Pansy Parkinson, yet this was where he found himself. Talking to her and pretending that she hadn't scared the piss out of him in school.
"You can't actually believe this passion project of Granger's is going to get anywhere?" Pansy was asking of the Remus Lupin foundation.
"Why not?" Ron asked flippantly. He probably wouldn't have been so favourably defending the Foundation if it wasn't a mortal enemy questioning it, but the moral high ground was irresistible. "She's helping real people in real need, without any judgement. It's admirable."
"Yes, so admirable," Pansy sneered. "Letting heathens loose on the general public."
Ron snorted. The lengths some people would go to. He might not be on the very best of terms with Hermione but even he knew that the cause was worthwhile. Harry himself had poured a thousand Galleons a year in a five year commitment, something he knew his best friend wouldn't have done without a guarantee of positive change. Had he any money himself he would have donated to the cause, but the first year training salary for an auror was pitiful. Had he not been staying rent free at Harry's he might have considered a different career. As it was his best friends generosity had been keeping him afloat.
"I'd hate to find myself as unfortunate as most in the werewolves position," he said simply. "And I think that given a little self reflection you would too."
Pansy sipped her drink contemplatively. Maybe she would, in that position. After all, hadn't Lavender Brown herself been bitten by Greyback? And she was the gossip queen of the Gryffindor house, the popular girl - and now she had to take a potion once a month for standing up for what she believed in one awful May evening. But she couldn't be so publicly forgiving.
"I'm not sure," she said reluctantly. "Werewolves could hurt other people. I'm just saying she could have started with Goblins or Merfolk and we might not be having the same debate." It was nice though, debating with someone who was real and passionate, who didn't feel the need to degrade her at the earliest opportunity for her house. Somehow Ron Weasley seemed beyond Gryffindor versus Slytherin. He seemed above it all. It was infuriating and yet endearing.
"But they're not so different than you or I. Take Lavender. One year I was dating her - the next she was a werewolf. I can't abandon her based on that alone. Merlin I - so many firsts - it would be inhumane." He blushed at this, a bit weary to share so much with a former enemy. "You know what I mean though?" He asked. "What if Draco had suddenly — ? Anyways, I can't not support Hermione. Besides all that, she's bloody brilliant. She might actually make a difference."
"High praise," Hermione said from behind him. "Especially from the boy who kept calling my first organization Spew." He jumped a little and his ears turned red.
"Mione," he greeted simply. He hadn't been expecting her to be right behind him, hadn't been prepared to talk to her directly. He knew she'd be there of course, but he figured he could do as he had since she'd started seeing Fred - skirt around the edges, be present enough to be in her life but not really go too much deeper. She saw Harry once a week, and he talked to her awkwardly, but that was about it. His brother was so in her life that he was her life. It was just hard.
Then maybe you should have recognized what you had when you had it, he told himself.
Well, it was best not to dwell there, wasn't it?
Thankfully she was called away just then, and Ron breathed a little sigh of relief.
"Trouble in paradise?"
Bloody hell. He'd completely forgotten about Pansy. "Er, no?"
"I'm just asking because that seemed ridiculously awkward. Even for you, Weasley."
"We're friends. Friends who have had differences on house elves. But she's still my friend."
"It doesn't really look like it."
"She is!" Ron said indignantly.
"Mhmm. Cold, distant conversation. I'm more friendly with you than she is right now."
"She's going to be my sister in law. She was my best friend all through school."
"Was."
"She's still my friend."
Pansy wanted to point out that he had classified her as his sister in law before his friend, but he clearly either wasn't receptive or already knew and didn't want to own up to it. Instead she just arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and moved on.
"Anyways, it's an uncontrollable disease if you miss your medication for even one night, and Lupin proved that. I'm not willing to put myself at risk."
"Yeah, because you have so much to lose," Ron scoffed meanly, and he could see the second Pansy registered his words and hardened towards him.
"Well," she said, her eyes piercing through him. "I guess I just figured out why you and Granger aren't friendly any more." She started to walk past him, leaving a trail of icy air behind her. The nerve! It wasn't bad enough that her single action of self preservation during the most high pressure and bleak time of the war had cost her friends and societal position, but no, she also had to endure scandal from the lips of the likes of Ronald Weasley.
"Pansy." But she was already gone. He groaned. "Pansy, wait!" He turned and reached for her arm to stop her. When she stopped and turned around expectantly, Ron realized that he hadn't exactly expected her to stop, and offered a rather lame, "Er, sorry about that."
Pansy huffed, unable to believe she'd stopped for him. Then she felt a hand grab for her a second time. "What?" She asked as high and haughty as she possibly could. Her patience was running thin with him.
"I didn't mean that. You were right, there's something off between me and Hermione, and I took it out on you. I'm not... I'm not always very nice. I'm sorry." The statement surprised both of them. Ron hadn't really thought of himself as a mean guy before, but he was realizing a lot about himself after the war.
For Pansy, she had expected him to just disappear as most men did after her glance, so the act of him trying to make good over his blunder carried a bit more cache than it might have with her previously. "That's alright," she said cautiously, "I'm not always very nice either, and I make no apologies for it." But she smiled at him then, slyly, and Ron dropped a little under her spell.
"D'you fancy another beverage?" he asked, offering his arm. And to both of their great surprise, she took it.
"Why not," she said, a bit wide eyed at her own freedom of spirit. She decided to blame the drink she'd already had. "I could use another glass of red wine."
They got some looks, Ron had to admit, especially when he did something like lean forward and murmur in her ear. "I feel rather scandalous, consorting with the likes of you." But he said it with a flirt in his voice, and Pansy blushed.
"I should think that if my parents could see me now they would indeed find this the height of scandal. Consorting, as you put it, with Ronald Billius Weasley."
He gave her a sidelong glance. "How'd you know my middle name?" Ron asked shrewdly.
"One knows these things, raised as I was."
"And how's that?"
"To know all pureblood families in grand detail. I also happen to know your entire family's birth dates, lineage, and the rest of their middle names too."
"And here I thought I was special."
Well now. She hadn't realized how she'd wanted an opportunity like this until it presented itself. She lowered her head a spot and looked at him through his lashes. "Maybe I... maybe I do think you're special." She took another sip of wine for modesty's sake, feeling a bit more drunk than her imbibing could really be blamed for. "Or rather, maybe I would like the opportunity to find the special things about you."
Now it was Ron's turn to blush, and Pansy felt much like a cat that swallowed the canary. Until an uncertain shadow found her companions face.
"Well," he said bashfully, "Maybe there isn't much special there to find." And he managed to fade away then, taking an opportunity to turn and talk to Seamus when he passed by to rib him about a Quidditch bet.
Pansy slipped off then, feeling a bit foolish. She'd reached her hand out, not an easy task for her, only to be slapped back. Gently, but still, and it stung more than it ought to have. She made her excuses then to Draco and Luna, ever the gracious guest, and took the Floo home. She threw the powder down and called out her destination, the flames jumping and engulfing her. And at the ruckus she saw Ron turn around to see who was in the fire. And he saw the too sad face of Pansy Parkinson, her party mask already slipping away a half second before she spun and disappeared.
Ron and Harry left together. Ron didn't think it was proper to leave without him, suddenly self conscious and not wanting to seem rude. But Harry was having a good time, laughing about with Draco, having deep conversations with Luna. Flirting with his sister, of course. And being Harry Potter he had dozens of people vying for his attention at all times which was nothing new.
Not Pansy, he thought, the idea coming to him without will. She'd had eyes only for him. And Merlin, the eyes on her. Deep, honey brown and full of stars.
"You're quiet," Harry noted as they shared a nightcap by the fire Kreacher had lit on their return. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah," Ron said, because nothing was wrong really. But he didn't feel like sharing, didn't want to see the look on his best friends face when he admitted his unlikely flirtation with Pansy Parkinson, who'd offered to give him up as sacrifice. "I'm just a bit tired. I think I've either had too much to drink or not enough. Either way I think I'm headed up." They bid each other goodnight and Ron escaped upstairs. He spent a long night thinking about her lovely long lashes and the unsettled feeling he got in his chest that only seemed to grow the longer he considered her.
Pansy took off her shoes straight out of the Floo, leaving them by the fire and then closing it up for the evening. She caught her own reflection when she passed by one of the inherited antique mirrors in the sitting room. A mistake — she looked awfully tired, and it didn't cheer her spirits any. She was quite awake, buzzing really, but her heart felt like it was weighing her down. She closed the door behind her when she found her bedroom, an awfully long walk from the main fireplace, even though no one was in the house but her. Sometimes she entertained guests, distant relations usually from outside the country, but often times it was her alone in the manor house.
Both parents in Azkaban, fewer friends than she'd care to admit. She wasn't sure who to call if she needed anything. Draco, probably. Maybe Blaise. But then she'd been a bit surprised to receive her housewarming invitation. And judging from the first looks on several faces at the event she'd surprised a great many people by accepting and showing up. She wasn't going to, was fully prepared the chuck the invitation in the fire, but for the additional note enclosed.
Pansy,
I'm not sure how welcome this invitation will be, but I've got an idea of how I might feel if our situations were reversed, so I feel I ought to explain. I've found myself rather unexpectedly in the company of Luna's friends. In fact, I was rather unexpectedly in their company when I was reacquainted with her. I've felt a relief of the burden of my past that I can't begin to describe to you, though I'd very much like you to feel the same in your life. Our relationship, along with our old way of life, is long over, but my fondness for you is not. You tried to support me at an impossible time and I consider you my oldest friend. Please do make an attempt to appear at the party so that the others in our lives might get to know the Pansy that I've always favoured.
Best,
Draco.
It hadn't been an easy decision to step out of the house and into public again. It wasn't exactly high society, a casual housewarming with plenty of drink and Quidditch and all, but it was still a party with other people, people whom she'd been avoiding since the fall of the Dark Lord. Since her parents were sent away. She'd been a shut-in, leaving only when strictly necessary. She hadn't taken the occasion to put herself together in quite some time. She'd attended an event shortly after the world finally started to get back to normal and the experience had soured her. No one had said anything outright to her of course. In her circles it would have been unspeakably rude. But gossip was somewhat of a sport, and she had been quite aware of the ladies whispering behind fans and stealing furtive glances at her. It wasn't quite a fall from grace, as she wasn't sure she'd ever really had a solid standing socially outside of her parents shadow. But she'd at least had a load of money and Draco Malfoy's association to keep others bowing their heads respectfully her way. Then all she had was the money, which as it turned out wasn't quite enough to keep her above the public shame of having parents in Azkaban. Worse, having parents in Azkaban who kept strong in their beliefs and publicly stated their support for the Dark Lord at their trials.
Pureblood above everything. Even their own daughter. They were never getting out now, not after all they'd admitted to. Pansy had always been under the impression that they'd been peripheral supporters, staunch in their beliefs but only taken action when required. But the crimes they'd committed, that they'd confessed to — it hurt knowing that the people who had raised her could be so cruel. So inhuman. No one had ever accused Pansy of being gentle of spirit, but she'd been horrified. She'd begged them to recant, to take it all back, but they'd refused. Besides being true, they explained, the last time the Dark Lord had gone out of power those who had abandoned him were not welcomed warmly when he returned. And since he'd done so once they had every reason to believe he'd do so again, despite his demise being witnessed by hundreds of people. It all seemed very final to Pansy so far as she had heard, though she hadn't been there herself. She hadn't been far, but she hadn't been there. Hiding out in Hogsmeade, waiting for word from her parents.
Her cowardice haunted her.
The next morning, bleary eyed from yet another night of fitful rest, Pansy sat at the antique writing desk in her sitting room with a cup of hot tea that contained a generous drop of whiskey in it. She hadn't had occasion to use it in a while, not keeping correspondence with many people and not getting near as many invitations to events as she'd expected to have at this stage in her life, post Hogwarts. She contemplated the blank page before her before rubbing her hands over her face and setting her mind to writing.
Draco and Luna,
Thank you so much for the invitation to your housewarming party. I had a very nice evening and it was lovely to tour the home, which has refreshed itself in style since I last visited.
I am writing to ask if I might return the favour by having you both to dinner. I am arranging a small dinner party for no reason other than to have one, as I found yesterday's events to be a welcome change of pace from the quieter life I've been living. It reminded me how much I miss entertaining.
I hope to see you Saturday next at six o'clock for cocktails followed by dinner. Please do let me know if you can come, and if there are any foods I ought to steer clear of. I'm afraid I don't know Luna's taste as well as I'd like to.
Cordially,
Pansy Parkinson
She wrote a formal invitation to Blaise plus a guest, aware that he was dating some former Gryffindor or another though he wasn't sure which. This was information she would normally have filed away last night, but in her unrest she had brandied herself to bed and her memory of such details was fuzzy around the edges. Was it Alicia? Angelina? Katie? No, not Katie, she'd been with George. Blaise was such a natural flirt that she figured she ought to get a pass on not knowing how serious they were, so the plus one could be appropriate.
Gods, she needed to stop drinking. She added more whiskey to her cup.
She started a letter to Ron then, though she crumpled it and restarted it a few more times before she felt she had something passable to send to him.
Ron,
It was nice to see you last night at Draco and Luna's. I still can't get over that match — it makes one feel that anything is possible, doesn't it? I've invited them to dinner next Saturday at six with a few others at my place, and I wondered if you'd like to come, being mutual friends and all. Please let me know if you are free to attend.
Kindest regards,
Pansy Parkinson.
She sent the letters quickly before she had a chance to change her mind. She stood then, deliberately leaving the tea behind and heading outside to the dewy morning for a walk as she often did. Only more often than not she took her spiked tea with her, and she convinced herself that she needed more and more whiskey until she was sleeping at noon and spending the rest of her day in a haze. Usually the haze helped her through, but today she couldn't face the fog. Not with so much to think about.
Well. She needed less of a fog.
She walked through the misty gardens of the manor house, worn out beyond lack of sleep. The party had reminded her of things she'd always thought better forgotten — of times when she could have fun, when she could be surrounded by people without feeling anxious, of times when she could flirt with a man and think it might lead somewhere. And maybe that was the real reason Ron's subtle rejection had stung so much. Because she hadn't had a romance since Draco had left school, because she had been a ghost of her old self and flirting with him had made her feel like a shade of a full person again. And then he'd so quickly turned away from her and Pansy wasn't sure how to deal with that now, and she thought a little too much about the way he was reassuringly tall and the tips of his ears went red when he was embarrassed and, Merlin, why did that make her heart skip?
When she wandered back to her sitting room the tea was gone, spirited away by house elves, and a few letters sat on her desk. Quick replies — she wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but she'd only been out for a few hours. The first was from Blaise, who confirmed that he and Angelina could make it, which made her wince. Damn, it was Angelina. She remembered a rude comment she'd made in school about her hair and hoped the other girl didn't. Then a reply from Luna and Draco in an unfamiliar hand that had to be Luna Lovegood's also accepting. And then Ron's messy handwriting.
Pansy,
I'm usually not free on the weekends due to my auror training, but Harry owes me a weekend off as I took one of his shifts so he could see Ginny last week at Hogsmeade. So I called in my favour and made myself available.
There were ink spots on the parchment then, as though he'd tapped his quill while trying to decide what to write.
I've been thinking about our conversation yesterday and how I might like to find the things that make you special too.
See you Saturday,
Ron Weasley.
Pansy exhaled. So she hadn't been crazy after all — there was something there, something that he'd felt too. She ordered herself to walk away and not to respond to him, not trusting herself to do so without making a fool of herself. Better to wait for Saturday when she could see him in the safety of a small group, make sure she wasn't being too rash. She didn't do spontaneous well, usually ended up regretting it, and she had to take a measured approach here.
But damned if he hadn't lifted her mood.
If there was one thing that Pansy knew how to do properly it was throw a dinner party. With only six people she set three places across from three more places. She would make it informal and not sit at the head of the table, but she did take care in placing the seat arrangements, being very precise with the place cards. She was in the middle on one side and had set Ron across from her as the only other single. There would be a couple facing each other on either side of them. That Ron was by default the only other single at the table was very deliberate, though she wouldn't admit that to anyone under torture. She arranged the floral centrepiece herself, deep purple roses, white lilies, and other complementary flowers. She made it low and long, wanting to make sure everyone could see each other over the display. She put together a menu, a five course affair consisting of an amuse bouche, appetizers, starters, the main course, and dessert. Her parents had hosted a twelve course meal for dozens of people in this very room before, stretching the table to fit everyone. Unaltered it allowed for thirty two - fifteen on each side and one at each end. Elegant women in gloves and tiaras had sat at this table, along with foreign dignitaries and other witches and wizards of great import. She'd paid careful attention to her mother's teachings on hostessing and party planning, which was the main job of a pureblood wife. She had just assumed this was her future as well, hadn't dared dream beyond it. Now people rarely called and she found herself purposeless, drifting through life.
No matter, she decided, pushing down the now familiar panic that accompanied this realization whenever she made the mistake of dwelling on it. No one was affected by that except for her, and there was no room for her feelings in the post-war world.
She heard the clock strike three and glanced at the half empty bottle of wine that she'd been working on since ten that morning. To calm her nerves, she'd told herself. But now she was trying to stay away from it until dinner and the attempt was harder than she'd expected which made her very uncomfortable. So she kept herself busy, fussing with already perfected details for the evening, She was relieved when it came to be time to change for dinner, finally able to give her hands something to keep herself busy with something that felt productive. Choosing a wardrobe, applying her makeup and scent, selecting her jewellery for the evening. Every detail seemed to matter much more than before.
Pansy stood in the grand entrance ready to receive her guests, twisting her chunky gold bracelet nervously. She wore an emerald green dress with sheer black sleeves, modest yet elegant. She owned all manner of dresses from ballgowns to sundresses, had never in fact been able to feel comfortable in long pants, and had wanted to look nice without appearing too formal. This was a mistake, she thought a few minutes before six, but it was too late to cancel now for no good reason other than she'd become a bit of a recluse.
When guests started arriving she graciously welcomed them to her home. Blaise and Angelina arrived first, promptly at six. Blaise wore a black suit with a black dress shirt — typical for him, showing no colour or personality despite being one of the most interesting people she knew. Angelina was on his arm in a powder blue skirt and white silk blouse, and she complimented her guests delicate pearls. Draco and Luna arrived shortly after, Draco in his own black suit but with a white shirt and green tie. Luna wore an all white lace frock that made her appear a bit angelic with her pale skin and blonde hair. She showed the guests through to the parlour for cocktails, keeping an ear out for the house elf she'd assigned to watch the fire for Ron. He was late which both irked her and made her more nervous, but fifteen minutes after he was expected Ron appeared in the fire.
"Sorry, sorry," he said. "I got held up at the Ministry." In truth he'd been a bit distracted for the evening and had fumbled his way through training that day which had earned him extra work. He'd barely had time to change before jumping in the fire, glad he'd opted to go dressier Just in case when he saw everyone else. His charcoal gray suit rarely saw use but he'd paired it with a black shirt and tie and had reasoned that he could discreetly take he tie off when no one was looking if he was overdressed. No need now, he saw. Both of the other men were dressed in suits too and he was relieved he fit in. He wasn't really sure what to expect at Pansy's, but he knew she probably didn't sit around in a tee shirt and jeans on a Saturday, let alone for a dinner party.
He held out a bundle of flowers for his hostess, manners drilled into him from his mother long ago. "For you," he said unceremoniously, handing Pansy a bouquet of purple tulips he'd picked up on his way home from work.
"For you," she countered, taking the flowers and trading them for a glass of amber liquid. He took the drink gratefully. "I'll just put these in water," she explained, moving from the room. And only after she disappeared to the kitchen for a water, vase in hand, did she let herself smile tenderly at the blooms.
When she returned to the parlour the five guests were discussing Quidditch, of course. Or rather, four of them were talking Quidditch seriously and Luna was chiming in where she felt appropriate with whatever she felt was applicable to the conversation, and usually wasn't. Pansy didn't follow Quidditch beyond the basic cheering on of school teams, but she was reasonably certain that 'losers lurgy' wasn't a thing. Since Pansy herself wasn't an expert on the topic she decided to change it as quickly as possible.
"Ron," she said, and he turned his attention fully towards her. "Tell me about your Auror training. What exactly do they have you doing?"
This piqued everyone's interest, and Ron was a bit surprised to find himself as the centre of the conversation. He was usually more of an input at the topic at hand kind of guy on the every day. People rarely asked about him directly, which tended to happen when you were the sixth of seven children and the most famous wizard in the worlds best friend.
"Well, there's a lot of supervised training with spells and enchantments and potions. There's a lot of bookwork, but we go out with fully qualified Aurors too so we know what to expect on raids. You get assigned to an Auror and you move when they move, basically. In another two years I'll be fully qualified though and out on my own, but at this rate we might be done a bit quicker."
"Why's that?" Blaise asked.
"Well they've got a shortage after the war. A lot of the department was killed or compromised. We're two trainees to an Auror now as it is. But also there's just a lot of work to do now. There's a lot dark wizards to catch these days, hiding after Voldemort fell."
It hadn't phased him to use Voldemort's name in quite some time, but he could tell it made the other guests uncomfortable. Even Luna looked a bit vexed by it, so he felt a bit awkward mentioning him by name. "Er, sorry. We're not allowed to say You-Know-Who anymore, new Auror department rules."
"Don't be sorry," Pansy said, even as her pulse raced. "That's what he called himself. Besides, he's dead. It's superstitious to be afraid of him now." It did make for rather a awkward dinner party topic though, so Pansy shifted away from him. "Is it terribly dangerous when you go out on raids?" she asked him, and Ron regaled them all with his tales until the dinner bell rang.
They found their place settings and took their seats. To balance the table between men and women Pansy sat between Blaise and Draco and across from Angelina, Ron, and Luna. Her mother said it always made for boring dinner conversation to sit couples next to each other as they tended to talk more to each other. This way they spoke across the table and anyone could join in. Plus it gave her a chance to catch up with her old housemates, although she didn't have much to catch them up on.
"Tell me, what are you doing for work these days," she said to Angelina, trying to make a concentrated effort to be nice to her. She hadn't really bothered too much with Luna in school, or Ron really, but Angelina was a girl on the Quidditch team opposite her boyfriend, so she'd been a bit merciless as far as picking on her.
"I've been studying wandlore," she explained. "Working under Ollivander. Luna introduced us as they're friends."
"That seems like an awfully complicated profession," Pansy said.
"It is," Angelina confirmed, "Especially as there's a lot of learning in the beginning. But I'm starting to make my own wands now, and it's incredibly rewarding. There's an art to it that I didn't realize when I first started."
"You should see our apartment," Blaise said cheerfully. "Wood shavings everywhere. It's like living in a hamster cage."
Angelina laughed. "I've been practicing designs at home. All my wands are a bit plain, I'm afraid."
"You're getting much better," he said, and Angelina shot him a warm look.
"Mr. Ollivander told me that he's starting to rely on you," Luna said kindly. "In fact he suggested you to me for an article on wandlore. Sort of as an assignment to your apprenticeship."
"What are you looking for?" Draco asked, interested.
"Well not much is known about it really since there are so few wandmakers, and it's a very specialized profession. I think readers would find it interesting to read about practical aspects of the job as well as an insiders perspective on the superstitions and rumours surrounding different wand types."
"Do you want an interview or do you want a written article?" Angelina asked.
"I'd take either based on what you'd prefer, but if you write an article yourself you get a publishing credit for your own resume."
"That one," Angelina decided quickly. "Wandmaking is a slow profession so anything I can do to help me move ahead or be more credible is a bonus."
"Ollivander though you'd see it that way," Luna said happily.
Pansy felt a bit left footed talking about careers even though she'd started the conversation. Luna was gearing up to run a whole magazine by herself, though she was in the planning stages right then, and Angelina was clearly very fascinated by her own job. Ron's job was busy, challenging, and exciting, and she knew Blaise and Draco's business affairs took them all over Europe. As heirs to great fortunes they had been raised to run the empires while she'd been raised to marry one of them and be largely ornamental.
She wished she had something in her life that interested her like the others did. Apathy and aimlessness coupled with a crippling anxiety after the parents arrests had held her down, but her isolation hadn't shown her just how much. She found more and more that she had little to contribute to every conversation, glad to be playing the role of hostess where it was more appropriate to ask questions instead of make the conversation about herself. In between sips of wine she had everyone opening up about themselves, joking, and sharing school stories.
When dessert was finished they moved into the sitting room for coffee and conversation, and Pansy was glad of the chance to chat with Angelina and Luna. She didn't really have girlfriends even when she was in school, and the opportunity to simply be a girl with no other expectation or requirement was refreshing. The men went out on the terrace to smoke cigars and she had a few moments alone with them.
"Are you seeing anyone?" Angelina asked Pansy, and she quickly revised her opinion on girl chat.
"Er, no. Not at the moment. I didn't really date so much as was paired off with Draco before the war but I've got a — well, I've got an iron in the fire." The admission made her cheeks warm a bit, which made her very uncomfortable. She hadn't dated Draco so much as had been matched with him at a young age so the flirt she'd had with Ron was all very new to her.
"Go on then," Angelina prompted, "Who is it? Anyone we know?"
Pansy bit her bottom lip. "Well," she said, glancing toward the terrace where the three men were laughing and carrying on.
"Oh," Luna said with delight, clueing in first. "Ronald?"
Angelina grinned. "A Weasley? Wonder of wonders."
"It's nothing. Yet. It may never be anything. But we've sort of got a — a — thing. I don't know what to call it. He infuriates me but at the same time —" She broke off then, because he'd looked in through the glass and locked eyes with her, and she quickly looked away. She felt on fire when she looked at him.
"Sounds like a crush to me," Angelina snickered.
"Shut up," she said in a hissing whisper. "They're coming in."
"Right," Angelina said, "Wouldn't want him to know that you want his ginger haired bab —"
"There you are!" Pansy said loudly to the three who re-entered the room, talking over Angelina's teasing. "I was about to send a search party."
"Yes, well, unfortunately I've got to make my way home," Draco said. "Luna's interviewing potential staff writers tomorrow and I've got an early meeting."
"At the Ministry?" Blaise asked, and Draco nodded. "I think I'm in on that one too." They had several overlapping business interests so they often ended up in the same boardrooms, and sometimes even planned it that way. "Blimey, I'd better turn in too I guess."
Pansy walked down with the group to the Floo, thanking them for coming.
"It was truly a lovely evening," Luna said, hugging Pansy before stepping into the fire.
"Amazing food. Thanks Pans," Blaise agreed.
Everyone was gone all at once and Pansy became very aware of her one remaining guest.
"I ought to go too," Ron said. "I work tomorrow and they show no mercy for hangovers, trust me."
"Well." She did want him to leave, wasn't sure how to make him stay. "Thank you for coming. And for the flowers." And she suddenly feared that neither of them would make a move, that this would be a one time flirtation that she had with him and that at the end of the day she'd still be right where she was — no job, no man, no passion in her life whatsoever — and the thought terrified her into action. Because she was tired of living in stasis, in not knowing what the future would hold. It was time to make her own destiny.
So she reached up (Merlin he was tall) and kissed him. It was only a chaste kiss on the lips, but when she pulled away she noticed that he was staring at her lips and it only took him a half second of stupor before he very much accepted her invitation and kissed her back. There was nothing chaste about this kiss though, all need and no manners, and it thrilled her. He pulled her closer and she felt a jolt inside of her when he did so. A small surprised "Oh!" escaped when her body was pulled to press against his. It gave her a heady tingling at her nipples and between her legs, an old aching need waking with his attention.
Yes, there was definitely something there alright.
"Ron," she murmured, and he took her sighing his name as permission to continue. He squeezed her to him again, gentler this time, and moved his hands from their polite placement at her back and waist to cup her bottom. Warning bells went off in her head. Too much, too soon, she told herself. But she allowed herself another guilty minute kissing him before she pulled back, a little breathless.
"Pansy." He moved one hand back to her waist, stroked her cheek with the other. "When can I see you again?" He asked, and Pansy heard her mother's voice in her head warning her not to seem too eager. Then ignored it.
"When are you free next?"
"Wednesday evening."
"Then you can see me Wednesday evening."
"I'll pick you up at six," he promised, and kissed her again. He figured he ought to get in the fire before they both changed their minds. She wasn't that girl, he knew, and he didn't want her to be for him.
He spun away in the fire and his last sight of Pansy was her standing there, watching him go, her delicate hand touching her bottom lip where he'd been a moment earlier. And he thought to himself, Ron Weasley, you're in trouble.