Pansy was humming to herself again. She felt that breakfast had gone very well indeed. She had run into Draco outside of the great hall when she was making her perfectly timed exit. He had been staring at the Gryffindor table almost as if he were under a spell. Pansy had followed his line of sight and realized it fell upon a certain red-haired weaselette. Draco had of course come up with some very lame excuse as to why he was even looking in that direction.
"Draco, really. You are a Malfoy, for Mordreth's sake. Go after what you want. No matter what or who it is. Sometimes it's almost as if you're not a Slytherin at all. Are you sure you weren't sorted into Hufflepuff?
That did it. The smirk returned, the spine straightened, and Pansy could almost see the gears turning behind the pale, grey eyes once again. He stalked off in the other direction, certainly planning a way to get what he wanted.
Pansy's sly grin graced her face. Well, that got him out of the way. He would now be too busy with his own conquest to interfere with hers. Pansy slipped away through one of the castle's secret corridors and managed to get to Transfigurations early. She carefully arranged herself to fullest advantage in her seat, which would be visible to Weasley when he and his friends entered the room.
Pansy knew that she was not, technically, pretty. Her nose, which was truly her worst feature, tended to turn up in a rather tragic way and her face was a bit too round. However, her violet eyes and currently glossy dark curls, as well as full lips and figure, drew most of the attention away from her flaws. Pansy also had patience and persistence. There was a reason why her patronus was a hunting cat.
It was a bit disappointing when Potter and the mudblood entered without her quarry, but not entirely unexpected. Pansy was aware of what kind of effect she could have on boys. When he did come in, she made certain that she was very carefully not looking in his direction. In fact, she waited until he had been staring at her for almost a minute before she gave him a sly glance. It really was quite adorable the way he turned all red like that. His face almost matched his hair.
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Ron spun around suddenly, once again feeling like someone was following him. As he had done this several times in the last few minutes, Harry and Hermione were beginning to be a bit worried. The first few times could just be attributed to the fact that he was Ron, but it was beginning to be a bit ridiculous.
"Uh Ron, there still isn't anyone back there mate. Has Peeves been playing pranks on you again?"
"Ron, really. We're going to be late for lunch again. Then you'll be upset when there aren't any more current buns…" Hermione trailed off as she took in Ron's now rather spacey expression. She knew about Ron's obsession with food, but he hadn't, as far as she knew, ever daydreamed about current buns right in the middle of walking to lunch.
Ron gulped suddenly and looked very determined. "Well, hurry up you two; we haven't got that much time. We might be late." With that, he strode forward purposefully, robes flapping around his ankles. Harry and Hermione exchanged puzzled glances and followed behind.
With his head held high, Ron walked into the Great Hall, desperately trying to keep his eyes from straying to the Slytherin table. He almost made it. However, Luna chose that moment to start her Gryffindor hat roaring. Ron instinctively looked in that direction. He was poised at the very edge of his house table. Harry and Hermione were right behind him. They too had looked over when Luna set off the hat and were laughing about it. It took them a moment to realize that Ron had not resumed walking to the table. Without saying a word to them, he turned on his heel and walked directly out of the Great Hall. Harry ran after him, but Ron stopped, looking rather panicked, and told him that he wasn't hungry. He insisted that Harry return and eat. Although Harry didn't want to leave Ron in this uncharacteristic state of no appetite, Ron didn't seem to want him around, so he gave up and left.
Ron ran directly to the nearest rest room and began splashing water on his face. He looked in the mirror almost to be certain that it really was himself looking back.
"Okay Ron, think of something not related to Pansy…Umm, quidditch!" He paused a moment, glanced down, and quickly looked back up at the mirror. "Snape in a dress…Snape in Pansy's dress…Pansy without her dress…Oh gods!"
Without hesitation, Ron turned and began to smack his head against the wall. Moaning Myrtle, apparently drawn by an aura of misery surrounding the boy, floated up beside him.
"Come now, it really can't be that bad. After all, you're still alive."
Ron looked up at her with a look of abject wretchedness. His voice, when it came out was low and husky, although it cracked in the middle a bit. "She—she had a banana!" With this ostensibly gloomy statement, punctuated by a particularly painful sounding head smack against the wall, Ron slid to the ground insensible.
Moaning Myrtle looked at the now unconscious Weasley with some concern, thinking about what he had said. She looked at him again, her eyes wondering. Suddenly a cunning look came onto her face and her eyes grew wide.
"Oh my."
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Meanwhile, Pansy, unaware of the effect that she had on a certain redhead, was brandishing the banana at Draco, that having been the first piece of fruit she managed to grab.
"You git, you can't do that to a girl. I'm surprised she didn't hex your balls to fly around like bats. Great, now I'm going to have to come up with a plan for you to follow to keep you out of my hair. I'm having enough Weasley problems as it is without having to focus my creative energies on yours." She punctuated each word with a resounding smack on Draco's arm from the abused fruit in her hand.
Draco smirked obnoxiously, still slightly sullen from having been beaten with a phallic symbol. Pansy glared at him.
"The weasel either has more will power than I gave him credit for, or he really is as dense as I've always believed. She risked a surreptitious glance at the Gryffindor table and found that the Golden Trio seemed to only be a duet today. She gave a frustrated growl and threw the rather mashed banana over her shoulder, hitting Blaise in the back of the head. He turned around, wand drawn, but seeing Pansy's scowl and Draco's frantic warning from behind her, he simply inclined his head as if she'd given him a present and turned around. Blaise was very brave in ordinary circumstances, but not in the least stupid. He knew when to let something go.