Title: Infatuation Part III

Author: Amethyst/Katie

Author E-mail: AmethystJackson@hotmail.com

Category: Romance

Keywords: Ron, Pansy, Secret Meetings, etc.

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Pansy has revealed her feelings to Ron. Now they must face each other and the obstacles between them. Yes, I could have come up with a lamer summary, thank you very much.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

*****

I travel as surreptitiously as possible through the halls, hurrying to the place where we'll meet. I can't believe the note I received; his reaction today left me no inclination that he might ever have the urge to speak with me. It doesn't matter. I won't look my gift horse in the mouth, so to speak.

I realize quite suddenly that I've made it to the darkened third floor, and that the door to my left is the entrance to the once-forbidden corridor. I enter, silent but eager. I am not left waiting. He stands there already, handsome from the light of a torch that has been left in a sconce in the wall.

"Hello," I say shyly. I'll leave it up to him to address the topic of this conversation.

"Hello," he replies. There is a tense moment of silence before he speaks again. "I came here because Hermione insisted that I talk to you. She believes you, for some reason."

I smile. "She understands, I suspect."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asks, suspicious.

"Isn't it obvious?" I say. Of course I've noticed; you would have to be blind, deaf, and mute not to. Hermione's quite in love with the man.

"No, it isn't," he says. "Do you know what's going on with her?"

I find it funny that he's asking me about his best friend, but then again, I suppose people tend to miss what is right in front of them. "She's in love, Ron," I say, smiling still.

"Of course she us – she said so earlier. But with who?"

"If you can't figure it out for yourself, I shouldn't tell you. It's her business, after all."

He stares at me like I've grown and extra head and my face is inside out for a minute. Then he seemingly regains his composure and dives back into the focal point of the meeting.

"Anyway, I'd like you to explain this," he says.

"What is there to explain? I've fallen in love with you. I just – I can't help it, and I can't explain it. Love is so unpredictable…it can't be controlled…" I trail off, knowing he must think me quite insane. Perhaps I am.

"But – it's impossible! You're a Slytherin. You hate me."

My smile turns rueful at his words. "Slytherin. What a fine Slytherin I turned out to be."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Ron," I sigh, leaning against the wall behind me. "You can't possibly understand Slytherin politics. We're supposed to have pride in being a Slytherin. Slytherin honour. But you know how I feel when I think about Slytherin? Ashamed. God, my parents would be so disappointed in me…" I look down, unable to meet his stare as a pour my heart out to him. "And then, I fell for you. That's not allowed – Weasleys are straight Gryffindor. Slytherins don't love Weasleys. Mum expects me to marry Draco Malfoy, you know. I'd rather die."

He looks at me in a way that I don't like, skeptical, almost.

"You still don't believe me," I state, unquestioning.

"I don't know what to believe," he responds.

I begin to pace, as is my habit when I am deep in though. I feel his eyes on me with every movement. Finally, I speak.

"What if I could do something to prove it to you?"

"Like what?"

"Anything. I would do anything."

"I – I don't know what you could do," he stammers.

"What if I became a Gryffindor?" I say suddenly, realizing I could. He gives me the courage it requires. To be near him is all I need. I wouldn't mind leaving Slytherin so much. I would lose my family and my house, by what loss would that be? Not a great one, that is for sure. I won't be accepted as a Gryffindor, I know, but that doesn't matter. As long as he accepts it, I'll be fine.

"A Gryffindor?" he repeats, gawking.

"Yes," I say. "Wouldn't it make a difference if I was a Gryffindor instead of a Slytherin?"

"It would make a huge difference!" he says, "But you're – you are a Slytherin!"

"I'm no Slytherin. I'm not terribly cunning, and I've lost all my ambition. I'm not proud of my house or the things I've done; I'm not concerned with heritage or anything else that make Slytherin what it is, for that matter. I could be a Gryffindor."

"You," Ron says flatly, disbelieving.

"I can!" I cry. "I can, and I will."

With that, I dash out of the hallway, intent on heading straight for Dumbledore's office. I can't go now, though. I'll do it tomorrow, when it's not midnight…and I figure out where his office is.

*****

"Professor Snape?" I say anxiously as he looks up from his grading. I hope, being one of his students, that he will help me.

"Yes?"

"Could you tell me where the Headmaster's office is? I really need to see him."

"The Headmaster is very busy," he replies coolly, and I know he'll tell me nothing. "If you have a problem, you'll just have to bring it to my attention instead."

I hesitate. How might Snape react, should I tell him that I want to transfer to Gryffindor? No, better not risk it.

"Never mind," I announce. "It's nothing life-threatening."

I flee the classroom, knowing who I can go to. He's been to see the Headmaster many times, with all the Gryffindor-taunting he's done.

"Draco?"

"What do you want, Pansy?"

"I need to know where the Headmaster's office is."

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because, we're Slytherins, and Slytherins help each other –"

"What kind of bloody Gryffindor crap is that? We're Slytherins. We help each other when there's something in it for us. So, what's in it for me?"

"I-I don't know. What do you want?"

"Think of something."

"Tell me where the Headmaster's office is, or I'll tell Blaise Zabini what you said about her yesterday."

"Why should I care if she knows?"

"Because. I know for a fact that she's got her sights set on Potter."

"What?"

"You know how Blaise is! She's got to have the richest, most famous person around."

"I have more money than Potter."

"Yes, but you don't have the fame and the prestige."

"So? I buy her enough shoes, and she'll give up on Potter right quick."

"Yeah. Sure."

"What are you implying, Pansy?"

"This is Blaise we're talking about. She wants what she wants, and she won't give up until she gets it, or until she finds something better – and you are going to have quite a time convincing her that you're better."

"Pansy, what does this have to do with anything?"

"I need to find the Headmaster."

"Why?"

"None of your business."

"Well, then, I guess I can't help you…"

"All right, fine! It – it has something to do with…erm, getting back at Potter and his friends."

"Why wouldn't you tell me that?"

"Because – it's a complicated plan, and I'm not sure you'll like it."

"As long as it ruins Potter – will it?"

"Yes, completely."

"Second floor, that stone gargoyle. Password's 'toffee-flavoured.'"

"Thanks," I say, overwhelmingly pleased with myself and my improvisational abilities. If I can talk Draco into giving me something, I can talk Dumbledore into this easily.

I hurry off to the second floor, nearly flying in my elation. I barely stop long enough to utter the password before I'm dashing up a staircase that I barely feel under my feet. This is it; I'll finally be a Gryffindor – with Ron.

I knock on the door, holding my breath.

"Come in," says the Headmaster. With nervous excitement, I open the door and step in.

"Miss Parkinson," he says kindly. "How may I help you?"

"I don't think I'm in the right house," I declare, getting straight to the point.

"Oh? And what house do you think you ought to be in?"

"Gryffindor," I say firmly.

"You aren't by any chance doing this for someone else, are you?"

"Well, - " I start to say, but he interrupts me.

"Is this for Mr. Weasley?"

"How did you –" I start to say, incredulous. Can he read thoughts?

"Mr. Potter and Miss Granger came to visit me this morning. They seem to believe that you're in love with Mr. Weasley."

"Well, I –" I begin, blushing, but he interrupts me once again.

"I have no doubt that they are correct. The question is, do you really want to be a Gryffindor? Slytherin will turn on you without question."

"I don't care about Slytherin. I hate Slytherin. I do want to be a Gryffindor."

Dumbledore smiles at me. "In that case, enjoy your stay in Gryffindor. The password is 'fig leaf.' Have Miss Granger show you around – your things will be waiting for you in your new room. If you have any more questions, you can go to Miss Granger or Professor McGonagall."

I break into a large grin, my heart feeling as though it might burst, despite that horrid cliché. I'm finally a Gryffindor.

"Thank you!" I exclaim. "Thank you so much, Professor."

Without waiting for a response, I get up and leave his office, taking the stairs two at a time. Gryffindor! Who would have thought?

I find myself standing in front of the Fat Lady, shaking with nerves. What will they say? What will I say?

"Fig leaf," I announce, forcing myself to act.

I walk in slowly, getting stares all around.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Well, there's an answer to one of my questions.

*****

As they say in Mexico, el Fin. (for now)