A/N: Muggle AU. Yep. Enjoy.

Virtual cookies to Queen Bookworm the First for helping me out with the plot, and to Kefalion for betaing :)

Word count: 2154 (according to MS Word)

QLFC Round 9: Chaser 3 – Use the Disney movie Lady and the Tramp as an inspiration for your story. (used elements: a character being grounded despite not having committed anything, this character meeting somebody on the streets)

Extra prompts:

1. (quote) "Okay is wonderful." – AVPM

10. (song) 'Use Somebody' by Kings of Leon (used the lyrics "I've been roaming around" for inspiration)

11. (restriction) Exactly three characters must feature

"And don't you dare trying to come out of your room until your parents come home, young lady!" The harsh voice of Pansy's aunt rang from outside the door of the girl's room, followed by the click of the door's lock. The last thing Pansy could hear before complete and utter silence fell was the echo of footsteps rushing up the stairs.

She was grounded—again. To make matters worse, she was grounded because of something she hadn't committed; she had been a mere spectator. It wasn't her fault that her little brother had knocked that goddamn vase over! On top of that, when her aunt—who was looking after the two of them while Pansy's parents were on holiday—had seen the remnants of the ceramic artefact, she'd decided that it must have been Pansy's fault. The girl knew it wasn't, and she also knew that she got punished because her aunt had always favoured her brother, ever since the moment he was born. Still, she couldn't help the blinding fury that was threatening to burst out of her as she plopped down onto her bedsheets with an expression of annoyance plastered on her face.

However, as soon as she sat, she was already on her feet again, an idea having struck her. It seemed stupid and uncharacteristically bold of her, but she couldn't take her aunt bossing over her anymore. Having to bear with her aunt's presence for one more week was something Pansy didn't want any of, so it only made sense to escape it. A nagging voice in her head did tell Pansy that it wasn't the best way to deal with her frustration, that she should stay put; however, her mind was on auto-mode, shutting down her doubts as fast as they came. She had never been known for her bravery, but she supposed it was time for her to break the stereotype.

It was dark outside already, but fortunately for her, the room she was locked in faced the street and was on the ground floor. So, after throwing her essentials—phone, a good load of pounds, and clothes, in case of emergency—into a bag, she opened her window, and was faced with the fact that she didn't have shoes on yet. Inwardly cursing herself for being forgetful, she threw her wardrobe door open, hoping to find the spare pair she knew would be hidden deep between her clothes. Soon, though, she emerged back with a victorious smirk on her face, a pair of simple black boots in hand. However, Pansy didn't have time to waste, so she slipped her shoes on as quick as she could, and, having grabbed her backpack, jumped out the window, right onto the pavement.

Not knowing where to go at first, Pansy turned her gaze left, then right, and after concluding that if she stayed in one place much longer, she'd be found out, she started taking hurried steps towards where she knew the nearest bus stop to be.

Pansy tried turning her thoughts off for the time being. Somewhere deep inside, she knew that running away was a rash move that would bear consequences worse than if she stayed, but she had to admit: the freeing feeling of not having to care for once was worth it.

~oOo~

Pansy was lost. She had been wandering around the neighbourhood for what seemed like hours, but she couldn't find a bus stop to save her life. She knew she was still in the outskirts of the city because the houses still looked familiar—simple family houses with miniature gardens and garages—but she couldn't recognise the street names anymore. Her phone's battery was on the verge of dying, so she no longer dared to use her GPS in case she needed to use her phone to call the emergency number. Not that having access to the phone's map had helped her much; she had always had terrible sense of navigation.

Having grown tired of wandering aimlessly, Pansy soon let the exhaustion get the better of her, and she plopped down onto the nearest bench she could find. Her limbs were heavy, and her eyelids felt like they were weighing twice as usual. Pansy yawned.

She had no idea where she was, where she was headed, and if she would ever make it back home. Alas, she had no more energy to spare. In retrospect, it had not been the brightest idea to set off into the night, but what could she do now? A suffocating feeling of regret washed over her as she dropped her head onto her backpack, troubled thoughts racing through her mind as she was taken away into the realm of dreams.

~oOo~

A pat on her shoulder brought Pansy back to the waking world, shaking her out of her light sleep. She groaned, her back aching from having slept in a sitting position, and opened her eyes, only to find that it was still dark outside, and the only provider of light was the street lamp above her.

Next to her, a tall, lanky boy was standing. After giving him a once-over, Pansy concluded that aside from his fiery, almost unnaturally bright ginger hair and his freckles, nothing much stood out about him. Besides the fact that his palm was still resting on her shoulder, that is.

"What brings a girl like you here?" he said, his voice soft, although, Pansy could make out a hint of shakiness and uncertainty in it as well.

"I could ask the same thing," she answered, glancing at the concrete before settling her eyes on the boy once again. "How late is it?"

The boy shrugged, letting go of Pansy's shoulder, not bothering to check his watch or cellphone. "Somewhat after 1 AM, I think."

She'd been asleep for hours, it seemed. That didn't make her feel easier, but at least she had gotten some of her energy back.

"So… wanna talk, or something?" the boy said after a lengthy awkward silence. "No?" he continued after seeing that Pansy was not in the mood for answering.

"I ran away," she blurted out of nowhere. Even she herself was surprised that she had said it; most of the time, she restrained herself better than this. Her eyes widening, her hand shot up to hide her mouth, as if she had said something forbidden.

"Well, my girlfriend dumped me and kicked me out," the boy answered nonchalantly, Pansy's scheme of hiding her face going unnoticed. "Guess we're even."

"You live with your girlfriend? Just how old are you?" Pansy asked. The boy seemed to be around her age, but now, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"Eighteen," the boy shrugged again. "Can't go back to my parents, so I was just about to go and crash at a friend's who lives around here when I found you snoring on this bench," he said, sitting down next to her.

"So, you're homeless, essentially?" Pansy said, making the boy go red in the face.

"Yeah. Right now, at least," he answered. "How about you?"

"Uh…" Pansy was at a loss for words. She wasn't yet sure if she could trust this mysterious boy—or rather, if she wanted to talk about her aunt at all. She was not used to talking about her personal life, not with complete strangers, at least.

"You said you ran away, right?" the boy asked. Pansy nodded, hesitance clear in her movements. "Well, do you have any reasons for it? Like, your parents, or something?"

"…My aunt," said Pansy after a moment of uncertainty. After all, the boy had already given her his story, so it was only fair if she told him hers, right?

"Your aunt?"

"Yeah," Pansy said. "She's babysitting my brother while my parents are away, and she grounded me because of a broken vase that was not my fault. So, I left. I was planning on going to my granny's but, um… I kind of didn't make it to the bus stop."

"So you decided to sleep on a bench?"

"Shut up, I was tired," Pansy snapped, then retreated. "Sorry. I'm a bit jumpy right now."

"You should see my mum," the boy grumbled. "Anyway. You said you ran away, but you don't know what to do, right? Well, if I did the same, I'd probably call Harry up, and then…"

Pansy drifted off somewhere in the middle of the strange boy's rambling, letting her thoughts roam on their own. She came to realise that she had nowhere to stay for the night yet—not that there was a lot of time left from the night anyway—and spending hours asleep on the streets was unappealing as well. She could not take chances with being robbed, or worse. Asking the boy for a place to stay sounded ridiculous—they'd just met. Besides, she didn't even know his name yet.

"What's your name?" Pansy asked, which seemed to strike the boy out of the blue. He looked somewhat taken aback, his shoulders clenching for a moment before he relaxed and leaned back on the bench.

"Right, should've started with that one. I'm Ron. Ron Weasley," he said, nodding once. "How about you?"

"Pansy Parkinson," she replied. "So, what were you saying again?"

"I just said that after finding a job while I crashed at Harry's, I'd…" he continued on, and Pansy's mind started wandering again. Could she do any better than going with this boy—Ron—to wherever he was headed? Finding her way back home seemed out of the question before, but everything else was just absurd. She didn't even know where she was, after all.

"Or, you know, I could go back home after a while," Ron said, his gaze locking onto Pansy. "So, what do you think?"

"Yeah, sure, that's… a good idea," Pansy replied, hoping it was the answer the boy was looking for. His face lightened up at her answer, so she supposed it succeeded. Ron was a bad judge of character, she decided. "Hey, um, let's say, hypothetically, if you were me, would you go home in this situation?"

"I'd ask this guy next to you for help, because surely, he knows what to do." Ron nodded with a triumphant smile before furrowing his brows in concentration. "But, um, I guess I'd also be wary? Is that the right answer?"

"There's no right answer, really," Pansy said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes scanned the pavement in front of her; she was no closer to a solution than she had been before. Should she go back home? Should she ask for help? Nothing was of use.

It was a cold, quiet night, the silence only interrupted by the chirping of the tickets. Calm, Pansy thought, before all of a sudden, it was interrupted by the familiar whoosh of a bus, which jolted her out of her train of thoughts. It gave her a scare, so that she grabbed the thing nearest to her, which also happened to be the hand of the redheaded boy sitting next to her. As soon as her fingers gripped his, she let go, and felt a blush creeping onto her face.

"I'm sorry," she said, embarrassment laced in her voice.

"It's fine," Ron replied, somewhat flustered. "Hey, um," he continued, an obvious attempt to force conversation between the two of them again, "have you decided what to do yet?"

Had she? Pansy was wary of giving an answer yet, but deep inside, she already knew what she was supposed to do.

"Do you happen to know where Ontario Street is?" she asked. "I'm going to go home."

"Go back home?" Ron said. "Okay… Well, Ontario Street is, I think, about two bus stops from here. If you want, I could show you the way."

"Thanks." Pansy nodded. Then, after moments of silence, she went on. "Any chance that we'll meet again?"

Ron shrugged. "Sure. Just give me a call."

"I don't have your phone number yet."

With a sigh, the boy thrust his hand in his pocket, rummaged for a bit, then pulled out a slip of paper. "Do you have a pen?"

"Do I look like I have one?"

"Honestly? No." Ron shook his head. "Hm… You know what? Just give me your phone."

With an exasperated sigh, Pansy reached down for her phone, unlocked the screen, and thrusted her arm towards the boy, indicating for him to take it. Ron snatched the phone from her hand, tapped on the device a couple of times, then placed it back in the girl's hand.

"Now you do," he said. "Can we go now? Harry—uh, my friend—is expecting me soon, and I gotta go."

"You know," Pansy said as the two of them walked down a nearby street not long later, "you're an okay guy."

"Okay is wonderful," Ron replied, "and you're pretty okay, too."