Chapter 4
“Why aren’t you dancing?” Ginny collapsed onto the grass, dark brown eyes fixed on Pansy. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“What a waste of an evening,” Pansy replied, eyes fixed on the bonfire. She had been looking at the moon, hanging full and gold above the forest, but gazing at the moon felt like a dangerous activity when Ginny was nearby.
“Not really, I’m found you, haven’t I?” said Ginny, nudging Pansy’s shoulder and then ducking her head to force eye contact.
Scowling, Pansy turned back to the fire and watched the silhouettes of their classmates dancing. Millicent had finally worked out how to tune the wireless into a Muggle dance station without causing it to belch purple smoke rings and the music spilled across the grass.
“You didn’t answer my question,” said Ginny, reaching over to nudge Pansy. “Why aren’t you dancing? With me?”
“Why would I dance with you?” Pansy kept her eyes on the fire, swallowing thickly as she felt Ginny shift closer to her.
“Um... because you want to?”
“I don’t... I’m not... fuck off, Weasley,” Pansy bounced to her feet as Ginny started sniggering. “Run along and bother someone else.”
“Looks like you’re the one running away, Parkinson.” Ginny scrambled to her feet, the bonfire illuminating a copper halo around her face as she stared at Pansy. “Stop doing that, it’s annoying. Come on,” she took a step forward, “dance with me?”
Pansy glared down at Ginny’s small freckled hand and frantically reminded herself of all the reasons why she had vowed to ignore the youngest Weasley at all costs. The Parkinsons may have come down in the world since the fall of Voldemort but they were not dirty little secrets.
Parkinsons did not allow themselves to be kissed breathless in dark corridors by Gryffindors who got their bravery from a glass of wine and avoided eye-contact the next day.
Parkinsons did not carry around the memory of being fed warm blackberries on cold autumn days for months, aching and hoping and feeling so unbearably frustrated that they just wanted to start tearing down the damned castle, stone by stone.
Despite all this furious self-chastisement, it didn’t really seem to matter what Parkinsons did as Pansy found herself reaching for Ginny’s hand. Again.