Disclaimer: I do -not-, under -any- condition, own -anything- by JK Rowling, or the song 'Angel in Blue Jeans' by Moron 5... if I did, I wouldn't be here, on my knees, begging not to be ratted out... I dun wanna get sued!!
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Angel in Blue Jeans
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Ron sat at breakfast, as perusual. He stuffed the food pilled up on his plate into his mouth and periodically swallowed to make sure he didn't choke, as perusual.
As perusual, he chatted aimlessly with his friends. As perusual, he bad mouthed Malfoy. As perusual, he joked about Neville...
Something out of the ordinary? He was sitting at the end of Gryffindor Table, the rest of the 'Dream Team' no where in site...
Between bites of food he glared down the table where one Hermione Granger and another Harry Potter glanced at him worriedly.
'Stupid 'Mione and her stupid cat...'
I saw an angel in blue jeans today
I felt that she melted all my bitterness away
After awhile, Ron got bored of the company there... of the small talk... of the laughing...
This wasn't an 'as perusual' arguement... they had really touched a nerve this time. He wasn't certain when he'd make up with them... -if- he'd make up with them...
Standing up from the table, he strood outside... it was a beautiful Saturday morning. Clear skies all around...
So why was he so glum?
'Oh yeah. Fucking Hermione and fucking Harry and their fucking know-it-all ways...'
Really, was it their place to judge whether he had been in any good relationships or not? Was it in their place to tell him -who- to date? Yeah, sure, they were only trying to help, but who fucking cared if he decided to bang a girl! He -really- liked her, and because of them, she hated him!
Then he saw her...
Who was she? Hell if he should know.
Ron stopped dead in his tracks, and just gazed at her... a dark haired beauty, sitting poised by the edge of the lake, looking at her own reflection. Her cloak was clutched around her, as if to ward off the cold, and her jean encased legs curled beneath her...
Even from afar, she was breath taking...
If only... if only he knew who she was...
You always tried so hard to hide your wings behind your coat
Ron dropped to the ground, hypnotised by her distance figure... there were butterflies dancing around in his belly, that he just couldn't seem to squash...
'Okay... I must be feeling like this because she is the perfect person to ask out on a date to spite those two.' Ron settled in his mind. Even though this thought eased the gentle flutter of wings, he didn't move to go and greet her... didn't try to catch her eye...
He just... sat there, watching her... and as he watched her, he forgot. Forgot why he was glum... forgot why he hated his best friends... he just, forgot...
She pulled her cloak tighter around her, curling up into a tight ball. Her shoulder shook slightly, and it occured to him that she was crying... over what, he didn't know.
He stood up, and she looked up at him. She was too far away for him to place who she was... but she looked somewhat of an angel.
Standing up hurridly, she through her cloak around her, turned, and ran.
And he watched her.
So let it be and let them free
So you can hoover low above the ground
Another week went by, perusual. He trugged to class, jotted down notes, tried to stay awake, all perusual. What wasn't perusual you ask?
He didn't have Hermione to copy notes from... Harry wasn't there to help him lie in divination...
Finally, after a week of torture, it was the weekend again. As perusual, he sat down for breakfast. As perusual, he pilled his plate high with nasty, greasy foods that he knew he shouldn't be eating.
Not as perusual, he just stared at his plate for minutes on end, no thought coming to mind...
"Mate, are you alright?" someone asked him, causing him to jump. He looked up into the curious eyes of Neville Longbottom, who he had begun to spend more time with now then ever...
"Fine Neville..." Ron muttered, pushing his plate away. "Just at a loss of appetite..."
He grew sick of it... grew sick of the laughter, the cheer. Grew sick of the worried looks, and the casual glances. Grew sick of not seeing his angel...
Standing up abruptly, he turned on his heel, and exited the Great Hall. Making his way outside, he followed the paths to the Quidditch Pitch, where he slowly sunk down against one of the goal posts. Not paying attention, he sunk his head into his hands, and groaned loudly.
"Why me!" he hollard almost painfully. "Damn it... why did I have to get stuck with them as friends! Why!"
What he didn't know... is that someone was watching him...
'He looks... tired.'
You look so tired you've got moonbeams in your eyes
And if I believed I know you'd be the first to fly
Way up on the other side of the pitch, perched delicately on a broom, it wasn't hard to recognise him. His flaming hair gave him away.
"He looks upset, doesn't he?" she whispered. The barn owl perched beside her hooted softly. "Yes... yes he does..."
Sighing, she carefully balanced herself on her broom, and reached into her pockets for parchment... She grabbed for her broom a moment later, almost falling backwards, and causing the barn owl to flap her wings wildly.
She sighed, and zipped up to the stands, sitting with her legs dangled over the pitch instead. Getting the parchment and ink, she fished around for a quill.
Sighing in frustration, she went to search another pocket, when her owl landed beside her. She had one of her long feathers clutched in her small beak.
"Thank you Artimus," she said with a small smile. Now she fetched her wand, enchanting the end of the feather so that it worked like a quil, before she started her scribbling...
After a moment, she put down her new quil and ink, looking for something to tie the parchment with. Pulling out her silver hair ribbon, she reluctantly tied it to Artimus' leg. Before she even said a word, the owl swooped down to take the letter to the boy in distress...
You always tried so hard to hide your wings behind your coat
Ron looked up with a start when the owl sat down beside him. Hesitantly, he untied the letter from the owl's leg, and it flew up to perch on his shoulder.
Why so glum, chum?
He blinked, reading over the four words continously, before he looked around the pitch. His breathe hitched in his throat as he found her...
His angel...
He wrote words frantically, a blush creeping onto his face. Sigh a long, slow breathe, he read over the words in his messy scrawl underneath her neat writing. He was tempted to put it in his pocket, and forget about it...
He tied it to the owl's leg, and let her fly up to the angel. As he watched, he watched... her dark hair whipped around in the wind, as did her scarf...
Silver and green...
'Wait! Silver and green? She's a Slytherin!' Ron felt as if he were going to hyperventalate, before he remembered... 'Wait, she's just to spite Harry and Hermione. Doesn't mean a thing, remember..?'
He couldn't help but smile as she laughed.
So let it be and let them free
So you can hoover low above the ground
She couldn't help but laugh as she read his response. It was so... cute. And highly unexpected.
I'm fine now that I have an angel watching over me... even if I don't know who said angel is.
Anyone ever tell you that your breathtaking? I mean... your stealing my breathe away and I don't even know who you are, let alone have a deffinate vision of what you look like. You just... shout out 'radiance!' to the world!
But I bet you already knew that...
Chuckling under her breathe, she wrote another responce under his, and tied it to Artimus' leg. She watched as the barn owl swooped low to the ground, landing on his leg this time, and chuckled again.
I'll find sunshine sometime soon
Ron smiled as he read over her neat writing.
Well, your saying it, are you not? But really Ronald Weasely, would your family and friends approve?
He almost panicked... 'How does she know who I am? Oh wait... Weasely hair. How can you be so -stupid- Ron?'
He wrote his reply beneath her's, and watched the barn owl fly up to her again...
How can I miss anything about you
When I don't even know what your name is
I feel like I know you as well as I know the sun
So please tell me where is my sunshine now
She read over his words slowly this time, letting them digest. Was this really Ron Weasely? One of her sworn enimies? Or was she just dreaming?
Does it really matter if they approve? It's my life, not theirs. Besides... alls I can do is go back and moan about seeing the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on, and not being able to have her. After all, she's in Slytherin, and she probably hates my guts.
You do, don't you?
Either or... could I at least have a lovely name to put with the lovely face?
The strangest thing? When she looked up, Ron wasn't there. Sighing, she flipped over the parchment, and started to write a long response.
I'll find sunshine sometime soon
Ron was jogging up the steps to the now, taking them three at a time. Yeah, he knew he was crazy... but even if she hated his guts, he needed to know if he was right about her... if she really was his angel.
He would know, right?
He reached the stands, and looked around. She was on the other side of the pitch...
'Wouldn't you fucking know it?' He stopped for a moment to catch his breathe, and just admire her. Every once in awhile, she stopped her writing, and looked to where he had sat before, as if he would return...
Grinning a mischevious grin and pushing some stray locks of firey hair out of his face, he started to run towards the stands where she was sitting...
How can I miss anything about you
When I don't even know what your name is
I feel like I know you as well as I know the sun
So please tell me where is my sunshine now
Finishing the long reply, she laid it next to her to dry.
"Where do you think he went Artimus?" she said, stroking the barn owl. The owl only hooted, nipping at her fingers playfully.
When the reply was dry, she tied it to Artimus' leg... but before she could send the owl off, loud footsteps rang behind her, coming to an abrupt stop.
"Go away Zabini," she hissed under her breathe. The person behind her said nothing. "Really, I don't want to talk to you Blaise," she tried again. She sent Artimus to fly off, trusting the owl to know where to go without her saying...
She flew right behind her. There was a soft hooting, and the sound of the letter being opened.
"Don't you da-" She stopped as she turned around, and figured out who it was reading the letter...
"Ron?"
How can I miss anything about you
When I don't even know what your name is
"Pansy," he said softly, still smiling. Instead of insulting her, as he would normally do, he read over the letter.
"I believe you call me Parkison," she corrected quietly, returning to the possition she was in before.
"Pansy," he repeated, coming and sitting next to her. There was a few moments of silence, and then... "Ya know, I wasn't lying... you really are an angel."
Pansy blushed slightly, looking up at him.
"You don't even know me, Ron," she said softly.
I feel like I know you
As well as I know the sun
"No... but I've been in a very strange vortex of darkness ever since I started hating Harry and Hermione, so I wouldn't mind making friends with you... you, Pansy, not you, Parkison. Parkison is a cold-hearted bitch that I do -not- want to think -ever- as being radiant... no offence."
She just laughed.
"Just as Weasely is a hot-headed jerk who does nothing but insult me... I don't want to imagine that he said all those wonderful things about me."
Ron grinned wildly at her, and cautiously drapped an arm over her shoulder.
"Come eat breakfast with me tomorrow morning, Pansy?" he whispered into her ear.
"Are you asking me out, Ronald?" Pansy asked back, raising a brow at him.
And I wonder where is my sunshine now
"I think I just might be..."