4th year,
Finally, the potions classroom came into his sight, along with the figure of Pansy Parkinson who was leaning against the stone wall, a hand draped in the air just in front of her face so that she could inspect her nails - which really should be referred to as talons, despite the fact that she was a fourteen year old girl, Ron did not doubt for one moment that, if she was so willing, she could pluck his eyeball out with a jab of her pointed finger tip.
“You’re late.” She sneered at him.
She’s just a girl, she's just a girl, she's just a girl.
She raised her eyebrows to express that she was expecting an answer from him, a retort, a witty comeback, literally anything.
But all Ron could muster was a low, incoherent grumble as he shoved open the door to the classroom and dragged his feet inside.
“Very bright, Weasel.” she chittered. “Salazar save me, you get more eloquent by the day.”
His bag unceremoniously thudded onto the closest desk.
“Just shove off Parkinson! It’s bad enough that you got us in detention, at least let us get through this in silence.”
Ron began to read through the instructive lists left by Snape that, very vaguely, described how Pansy and himself were to restock the ingredient closet.
It was when he registered the silence in the room that he turned around to see that Pansy was staring at him with such distaste that he genuinely feared that Harry’s jokes about this being the night he died may come to fruition.
“It’s bad enough that I landed us in detention?” she tilted her angular chin to the side in curiosity.
Ron gulped, “That’s what I said.”
“I hardly think it to be my fault that you are the worst excuse for a potions partner to ever be seen by these four walls.”
She stalked over to the shelves of ingredients and began to organise the jars according to the lists.
“You were the one who kept making snide comments, you can’t expect your partner to perform well if you critique every part of their being.”
He shoved in, cross legged on the ground next to her, and started at work. There was no way he was going to get stuck in another detention all because she complained about him not carrying his weight. He was Ronald Weasley, participant of many a snape-decreed detention; he knew how this worked.
Pansy’s face cut into a wicked grin, “Interesting, you’d think that after shacking up with that little swot Granger, you would be used to that.”
“Hermione and I have not shacked up, you-”
“Oh no, that’s right, you didn’t take her to Yule Ball, did you?” Ron could feel the red in his face, “No, no that was Victor Krum, right?” she smiled innocently.
“You don’t know anything.” he spat at her with all the viciousness he could muster.
“I know that you just contaminated the flobberworm mucus with the billywig slime.”
He looked down at his work to see that he had, in fact, done just that.
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
Pansy surged forward to take the jar from his hands and in their scramble he threw the contents of the jar into her face.
shit, shit, shit, she was actually going to kill him.
Taken aback, she stood and pushed the slick, goop-soaked hair from her face, her expression was the most scrunched and pug-like it has probably ever been. Ron couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of her.
“What’s so funny.” she snapped, enraged, “You think it’s funny that you’ve wasted school resources to humiliate me?”
“Actually,” he was practically wheezing, “I was thinking about how Malfoy is such a narcissist that he’d probably fancy you a bit more with your hair that way.”
Her body stilled completely and, after releasing what could only be described as an impeccable impression of a deranged harpy cry, she snatched up her bag and slammed the classroom door shut behind her.
Ron: 1, Pansy: 0
5th year,
“Cough up slugs again, wear my dress robes in public again, lose every game of wizarding chess for the rest of my life-”
Hermione snapped her book shut next to him, “Ronald, what on earth are you mumbling about?”
He leant his head back against the seat of the couch that he was sprawled out in front of, “I’m listing things that I would rather do instead of going on Prefect rounds with Pansy Parkinson.”
“She can’t be that bad. I mean, besides the fact that she’s in Slytherin.”
“And incredibly rich.” Harry interjected
“And a pureblood.”
“Yes, and then there’s the matter that she hates our guts of course. Can’t forget that.”
“Oh! And the time she hit you with a bat-bogey hex for no good reason.” Hermione giggled.
“Exactly! She’s the devil incarnate - I’ll be lucky to make it back here with all of my bones!”
Hermione sighed at him, “Get over it Ron, if it makes you feel any better I’m stuck patrolling with Malfoy tomorrow night.”
That information did not make Ron feel any better but all that aside he threw on his Gryffindor robes over his uniform, the shiny Prefect pin catching the light of the fireplace and walked out into the metaphorical gallows.
Pansy Parkinson was waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase, arms crossed, scowl set.
“Would it absolutely kill you to be somewhere on time for once in your miserable life or is this just something stuck in your blood traitor genetics?”
Don’t react, don’t react, don’t react.
“Let’s start near the Hufflepuff dorms and work around from there.” he managed to grind out.
They made their way through most of their routine checks in a tense silence. Each could tell that the other was waiting for something to feed on.
Unsurprisingly, it was Ron who snapped first.
“Can you stop fiddling with that ridiculous pin?” he emphasised the demand with a stomp - he was being a child and he knew it.
“Oh? This old thing? I think I’m allowed to be proud of my achievements, Weasel. I understand you’ve never been in a position to do the same.”
His expression darkened in a stroppy way, “I’d hardly call being on the inquisitorial squad an achievement but okay.”
If she heard him she chose not to acknowledge it.
“We know that you and the rest of the Gryffinfdorks are up to something by the way.” she said primly, chin up. “You make it painfully obvious, did you think people wouldn’t start to notice that the same students were disappearing somewhere in the castle at the same time every week?”
Ron stopped a step behind her and felt his face flush.
“Salazar save me, you really didn’t?”
He grew indignant, “‘Mione probably did, she’ll have a plan.”
Pansy laughed loudly.
“Why don’t you just turn me in right now if you know I’m up to something?”
She stepped closer to him, eyes challenging him, “Maybe I will!”
“If they end up snogging you owe me a chocolate frog.”
The voice whispered clumsily from the alcove that the quarrelling pair hadn’t realised they’d stopped outside of.
All of the blood in both of their bodies rose to flush their faces and Pansy’s expression sharpened in a way that struck terror right into Ron’s bone marrow.
“Come out here right now.” she spat, and out shuffled a couple of fourth year Hufflepuffs who, based on the state of their ties and hair, had been up to no good in the alcove.
“10 points from both of you for being in the halls after curfew and an extra 5 for suggesting that I would ever consider snogging Ron Weasley.”
If the last part of her statement tasted like bile in her mouth then Pansy definitely didn’t let it show in her face. The shared looks of horror and embarrassment on the reprimanded Hufflepuffs nearly erased the odd stinging sensation in Ron’s chest and he smiled as they scurried away as soon as Pasy dismissed them.
“What are you smiling about?” she snapped.
Ron immediately caught himself, “Nothing.” she held him under her scrutinising gaze and then walked down the hall to finish up their rounds.
Ron: 2, Pansy: 0.
A few days later,
Ron burst into the common room like a storm, dead set on his mission.
“‘Mione! Harry!” He found the pair standing by the stairs to the girl’s dormitory and it all tumbled out of him: “It was Parkinson, she told Umbridge about the DA. It was her.”
Hermione's eyebrows creased together, Ron didn’t understand what there was to be confused about.
“She told me, during our prefect rounds, that she knew we were up to something and that she would turn us in. It was her, she told Umbridge just like she said she would.”
Harry grabbed his friend's shoulder, “Ron, mate, it was Marietta Edgcombe who betrayed the DA.”
“What?”
“I charmed the sign up parchment to clearly mark any person should they betray us. Marietta’s walking around with puss-filled zits that spell out ‘sneak’ because she was the one who ratted us out, Ron.” Hermoine clarified, looking concerned for her friend.
“Oh.”
Ron felt winded.
Ron: 2, Pansy: 1.
6th year,
One thing was for sure, Ron was absolutely not going to spend the entirety of this night sulking in his room and he was not going to let himself be jealous over the fact that some snotty potions professor didn’t think that he was as interesting as his two best friends. He would, however, allow himself to be a little bit bitter over the fact that the aforementioned snotty potions professor considers his little sister to be more interesting than him.
That is how he ended up on his way to the astronomy tower in hopes that he would come across Lavender Brown. He found Lavender to be a bit annoying, if he was being honest, but that she provided him with a consistent comfort that was nice to be aware of even if he couldn’t quite reciprocate it and was in no mind to be weighing up the moral cost of the matter at the minute.
“Lav?” he asked as he began to reach the top of the spiralling staircase.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Ron froze.
That sure as hell wasn’t Lavender.
She was perched on the edge of the tower, with her surprisingly long legs threaded under the railing so that she wouldn’t slip down the side. Next to her was an open bottle of wine that probably cost more than Ron’s house and in her hand she held a lit cigarette in a delicate grip. She threw the short ends of her hair (that Ron noticed had grown out during the past few months) off her shoulder and let out an irritated sigh that was likely the closest thing to grunting that her childhood etiquette training would allow. She regarded him with pure annoyance and one might’ve said that, in that moment, Pansy Parkinson was the most alluring sight that Ron had ever set his eyes on.
He shook his head to clear it and remembered why he’d come up here, “Has Lavender Brown been past here?”
“That name doesn’t ring a bell to me, Weasel.”
“Short, probably wearing a pink bow in her hair.” he probed.
She gave a pale laugh, “Oh, her. Yeah she got right out of here as soon as I showed up. Sorry ‘Won-Won’.”
The nickname coming out of her mouth made him grimace.
“I could get you in detention for having all this contraband you know.”
“But you won’t.” she retorted.
He considered the situation for a moment and then decided: “Only if you share.”
She looked out over the scenery and sighed annoyingly but held out the bottle to him nonetheless.
It was undeniably awkward for Ron Weasley to be sitting atop of the Astronomy, pity drinking with Pansy Parkinson but they made do.
“Bit far from the dungeons aren’t you?” He passed the bottle back to her and she pursed her full lips around it, taking a leisurely sip before answering him.
“I was following Draco and I didn’t really like what I found, so, here I am.” She was being vague on purpose, he suspected. “What about you? Didn’t pitch a Weasley to be sneaking around and shagging pink-bow-wearing girls in dark towers. Almost Slytherin of you.”
The last comment made Ron wonder just how much she’d had to drink.
“Oh, I’m just feeling like a sidekick in my own life as usual. Lavender is very empathetic.”
“Ah, I’m sure she is. Are your wounds the only thing that she likes to lick?” She asked the question very seriously and then she burst into a fit of giggles so squekish-ly uncharacteristic of Pansy Parkinson that he found himself following suit until his ribs ached, “No, I suppose not.”
Once they composed themselves they both took in the night sky in front of them.
“Suppose you know all the constellations do you?”
“I know enough of them.” She reached up to trace her finger tip as if she could connect the dots into pictures that made more sense.
Ron watched her.
“What did you find that you didn’t like?”
“Hmm.” she didn’t look away from her stars.
“When you were following Malfoy.”
She folded up one of her legs so that she could rest her chin on her knee while she looked at the Weasley boy in front of her, “Why aren’t you with Granger right now? I thought the two of you were an item.”
Ron’s face contorted slightly in confusion, “I uh, I don’t know.”
Pansy made a contemplative noise and passed the bottle back to him.
Ron: 2, Pansy: 2
7th year,
“Ron! Duck!”
Ron did as Hermione said and watched the curse collide with a wall right where his head would have been.
Hogwarts was crumbling to pieces around them, the dark magic infecting the halls and rotting it from the inside. He had to get the Horcrux and Hermione to the Chamber of Secrets, it was the only thing they could do to help Harry right now.
They continued on their path, deflecting spells and dodging debris as they went.
Ron’s body was on fire with adrenaline and fear, which made it horrifically obvious that something was going wrong when his blood froze into dead weight in his veins.
“‘Mione, can you feel that?” his whisper wouldn’t have been heard over the chaos three seconds ago but the air had turned into a vacuum and everything was eerily silent.
Hermione didn’t need to answer as she pointed behind Ron who turned and saw as the fleet of dementors continued on their descent like a plague. The grip of the creatures felt like a vice in Ron’s chest, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything.
“Expecto patronum!”
Ron watched through hooded lids as the light of the patronus radiated through the fog.
“Ron, whose is that?” Hermione asked with great effort.
The Patronus in question was a regal ragdoll cat and, despite its small stature, forced out the dementors with surprising ease.
The feeling returned to Ron’s body and the adrenaline returned as he snapped back to reality.
Horcrux, Hermione, Chamber of secrets.
He burst back into action, grabbing Hermione’s arm and turning them to continue to the Chamber.
“At least try not to die Weasley!” a voice screamed at him and he met Pansy’s eyes over his shoulder. Her face obscured by ash and her hair ruffled but her usual composure was all their and intact.
“On your left!” Ron bellowed back and he made sure to see that she had deflected the curse that was thrown at her before allowing Hermione to urge him away.
Of course Pansy Parkinson’s Patronus was a stuck up, posh cat.
Ron: 3, Pansy: 3
8th year,
At the decree of the Head girl, Padma Patil, this year's Halloween feast was to be a ball. The newly rebuilt great hall was done up to the nines with decorations and lights, the atmosphere denying any and all memory of the violence that tore it apart last year.
Molly Weasley, thankfully, had purchased her son new dress robes for the occasion on account that he was now a war hero and maybe his old ones were slightly old fashioned. So, despite being without a date, Ron was already having a much better time at this ball than he had back in fourth year.
Padma had even gone as far as to point out as much in her opening speech that Ron was a shoddy ball date but he couldn’t even find it in himself to be offended.
He looked to his friends with fondness, even managing to hold in a retching noise at the way Malfoy’s arm was draped around Hermione’s waist and his sister was leaning against his best mate. Absolutely smitten, the whole bloody lot of them, and Ron was perfectly content.
The music started and everyone dispersed around the hall, it was all a shuffle of tulle and glitter.
The eighth years had collectively decided to partake in a slightly complicated dance where they would swap partners every few steps. A sort of performative show at the newfound unity shared between them all post-war. Ron was about to step on many toes.
He started with Katie Bell, and then he twirled Luna, the head girl herself, he even managed to steal Hermione away from Draco, and so on and so forth until-
“All of those poor girls will be limping for the rest of the night now, I hope you’re aware of that Weasel.”
Pansy Parkinson was in his hold. Her hair was pinned back in a way that framed her face and exposed her delicate earrings, her dress was long and shade of green so dark it may as well have been black. The red of her lips had never stood out more-
He shook his head to clear it.
“I can’t be that bad at it. Haven’t maimed you yet.” he smiled down at her.
“I’m not hedging my bets, there's still a few steps left.” and with that he lifted her swan-like arm between them and watched the way her dress moved over her as she twirled, as she stopped again in front of him the music ceased and Ron found himself unable to look away.
“I take it back, the only thing injured was my dignity.” she smirked before bowing her head and gliding away, leaving Ron to stand gaping in her wake.
The night passed with a flurry of laughter and dancing.
Now, the hall was winding down from the festivities, people were saying their goodbye and carrying themselves to their dorms. Ron had just said goodnight to the last of his friends and was about to follow Harry up to Gryffindor when a certain witch slid into his path, a bottle of wine in her hand.
“Astronomy tower? For old times sake?” she looked up at him through long lashes.
“Only if you promise it won’t be nearly as pathetic as last time.” he replied, it made her laugh lightly, “Oh, not to worry. Nothing will ever be as pathetic as we were that night.”
Up on the tower they fell into a content silence, staring out at the scenery together and passing the bottle back and forth.
“I’m sorry for trying to sell out Harry. That was a bit fucked up.” Ron looked at the witch beside him with shock, unsure if the shock was due to the fact that she was apologising or if it was due to the fact that she snapped the silence first.
“I probably would’ve done the same if he wasn’t my best friend.” he said solemnly, vaguely embarrassed at the truth value of the statement. “You made up for it in the end.”
“How? By saving you and Granger?” Ron nodded.
“How do you feel about him being with her by the way?” he asked.
“Probably the same way you do. I love him but that’s because he’s my best friend. Romantically, we were never a good match I think.”
He pondered over what she said in his mind for a moment before adding anything, chewing on every syllable.
“I’ve never been able to keep up with Hermione.” he smiled as he recalled every time she outwitted him and everytime she corrected him. “Malfoy can though. I’m happy that they figured that out. Wasn’t a huge fan of finding out that she’d been seeing him secret for years but yeah, I’m happy for them” and it was true.
Pansy turned to look at him, as if she could discern any implicit thoughts through her eyes, boring into his mind.
“Honestly, I’ve always had my eyes on much taller sights.” she smiled.
Ron was struggling to understand what she was talking about, who the fuck is taller than Draco? The man is like a marble statue.
Neville? No, Zabini? No he’s definitely a good inch shorter.
He caught the way her eyebrows raised slightly as she watched his mind run like a hamster on a wheel.
Oh, Bloody hell.
“Weasley,” she said primly, “you better kiss me before that jaw of yours jaw falls down the tower.”
And kiss her he did, making a mental note to inform a couple of now-seventh year Hufflepuffs of the outcome of that bet.
Ron: 3, Pansy: 4.
the end.