A Guy, a Girl, and a Cucumber (A Ron/Pansy Fic)
Reveals are up at ronpansy_fest, and there's some really lovely fic over there, so go check it out!
Here be mine own, originally posted here.
Author: turkeyish
Recipient: xalexandriam
Title: A Guy, a Girl, and a Cucumber
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~2300
Warnings: Strong language
Genre: Rom-Com
Summary: Four times in which Pansy Parkinson wonders why she associates with Weasleys at all (and one time in which she wonders the same thing about a certain Malfoy).
Original Prompt: Ron and Pansy bump into each other while grocery shopping (Ron's buying Molly ingredients for a dish, Pansy's there for food). Sometime later, they see each other again at a May Day party Fleur throws for the adults in the Weasley family. Pansy's invited because she works with Ginny. Here's where my penchant for D/G comes in: Draco's Pansy date so he can see Ginny. Ron and Pansy spend the night together. They have breakfast the next day, 'cause Ron's adorable like that.
Author’s Notes: First off, a huge thank you to the amazing mods, who were more than understanding when real life reared its ugly head. You guys rock! I hope you find this to your liking, xalexandriam! It was a joy to write - your prompt was too fun.
A Guy, a Girl, and a Cucumber
I
It all started with something political scientists and hippies alike fondly refer to as The Green Movement.
A few years ago, when the monster was still barely stirring in its womb, a couple of wide-eyed twenty-somethings from somewhere in the southern United States decided that there was a need for a grocery store that sold only all-natural, organic, and sustainable products. The world scoffed, but flash-forward to the present: The Whole Foods Corporation now operates hundreds of grocery stores all over the globe. All of the shops look the same: cute, kitschy, bohemian-chic. But don’t let such outer appearances fool you. Whole Foods has cornered and monopolized an entire market that is now rapidly expanding and booming in the face of the twentieth-first century’s search for the next big thing. And right now, it looks as though the next big thing is going to remain The Green Movement for many years to come.
And so it was that Ron Weasley found himself passing through the automatic doors of the closest Whole Foods one fine Wednesday afternoon. There was a Whole Foods on nearly every street corner of London, it seemed, and when Molly Weasley had Floo’d her youngest son and shoved a grocery list into his hands, Ron’s feet had automatically turned themselves towards the Whole Foods that sat only a block away from his flat.
A short while later, Ron whistled softly to himself as he lazily pushed his shopping cart towards the vegetable aisle.
“Fuck,” a feminine voice muttered ahead of him - a slightly husky voice that came with the best pair of legs Ron could ever remember seeing in his entire life. Ron grinned and took a moment to appreciate the way the woman’s slender but shapely legs spilled out from beneath a form-fitting skirt to end in a pair of high heels. He’d never seen shoes with red soles like the unknown woman’s - he noted idly to himself that he quite liked the touch.
Ron pointedly cleared his throat as he wheeled his cart around so that he stood beside the woman. “Do you need any help?”
“Fuck!” The woman turned towards Ron, a scowl on her face. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to sneak up on people like that?” Her impossibly blue eyes widened as they met Ron’s own. “Weasley?”
Ron couldn’t help but laugh. He’d know those jet-black locks and upturned nose anywhere. “Pansy? What the hell are you doing here?”
Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes. “I do eat too, Weasley. The question is what are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know,” Ron said amiably, leaning against his cart. “Quidditch finally pays me enough money to eat.”
“That’s good to hear,” Pansy murmured, eyeing the tall man haughtily. She lasted all of ten seconds before her face broke out into a massive grin and she launched herself at Ron for a huge hug. “I haven’t seen you in two years!” she exclaimed, punching him on the arm to emphasize any displeasure she felt at that fact. “You couldn’t owl me, at least?”
“Jesus, Pansy, I’d forgotten the fact that you punch like an Auror,” Ron grumbled good-naturedly, rubbing the spot. “You know how it is, playing Quidditch abroad. And I’ve only been back since yesterday.”
“No massive Weasley dinner to welcome you back?”
“Not until I report back to Mum with all these groceries,” Ron answered, waving at his cart.
Pansy laughed. “Poor Weasley, shopping for his own homecoming dinner.”
“Oi, Mum’s special casserole will be well worth it. Why don’t you come over?”
“Oh, I can’t,” Pansy said, a look of real regret on her face. “I’m meant to host a dinner party at my place tonight - Blaise finally asked Luna to marry him.”
Ron shook his head in mock sadness. “I can’t believe they’ve lasted this long. I can’t believe we allowed it to happen.”
“Trust me,” Pansy said with another laugh, “I wonder why all the time. Especially when Blaise goes all googly-eyed every time Luna starts going on about Wrackspurts - which we all know she does about once every hour.”
Ron grinned at what they both knew was the truth - Luna was slightly odd, but Blaise was head over heels in love with her. “So you’re cooking? Since when?”
Pansy flashed a rude hand gesture at Ron, who merely held his hands up in surrender, with an entirely too innocent expression on his face. “I’m not, actually - Malfoy is. But he made me do the shopping. No idea why, it’s not as though I’m any better at this than I would be at cooking.”
Ron laughed. “It can’t be all that bad. What do you need?”
Pansy thoughtfully eyed the contents of her own cart for a moment, and then glanced at a list she held in one hand. “I have everything I need…aside from a cucumber. I need one cucumber.”
Ron swept a hand out in a majestic sort of way, indicating the cucumber stand in front of them. “Well then, there you go. All the cucumbers in the world - or, er, greater London, at least - at your service.”
Pansy warily eyed the mound of cucumbers, which reached higher than her own petite frame. And then she eyed Ron and pouted. “But there’re so many. How do I know which one to choose?”
Ron passed very close to Pansy as he leaned forward to grab a cucumber from the pile. “Well, this one seems perfect,” he said, turning it over in his hands so that she could see all of it. “No spots or blemishes or anything. Good green color, and firm.” He held it out towards her. “See? That was easy.”
Pansy saluted him as she took the proffered fruit. “Thanks, Weasley. Looks like being a mummy’s boy really does pay off,” she said with a smirk.
Ron just flashed a crooked grin at her, blue eyes sparkling. “You know how else you can tell if a cucumber is worth buying?”
“How?”
“Decide if the shape of it is something that would bring you maximum…pleasure.”
Pansy’s brow furrowed for a split-second. And then - “Jesus, Weasley! Why do I associate with you at all?”
Ron grinned down at her as she silently placed the cucumber in a plastic bag, brow furrowed once more in concentration.
“So,” Pansy said casually, once she had tied up the bag. “Do girls really do that? Does it really work?”
Ron’s laughter echoed throughout the entire store.
II
“Here you go, Pans,” Ginny Weasley said as she swept into the office that they shared at the headquarters of The Quibbler on Thursday morning and set Pansy’s customary cup of coffee down in front of her.
“Thanks, Gin,” Pansy murmured as she continued to pore over the story she was currently working on.
“No problem,” the petite redhead said as she settled herself at her desk. “Hey, Pans?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing on Saturday night?”
“Nothing that I know of,” Pansy answered, scribbling notes furiously.
“Oh, good. Fleur’s having a May Day get together, and you should come.”
“May Day?” Pansy asked, finally looking up at the other woman. “Who celebrates May Day?”
“We do,” Ginny sniffed, flashing a rude hand gesture at her friend.
Pansy laughed. “And by celebrate, of course you mean use a random bank holiday as an excuse to get piss drunk?”
“Well,” Ginny said with a grin, “we are Weasleys, after all.”
“You lush. I can’t believe I associate with you at all,” Pansy said affectionately, letting out a laugh as she ducked the ball of parchment that Ginny tossed half-heartedly at her head.
III
On Friday evening, over their customary end-of-the-week dinner, Draco Malfoy asked Pansy what she was doing on Saturday.
“Oh, you know, going to some thing at some Weasley’s place,” Pansy answered, pretending not to notice the way Draco leaned over the dinner table with more haste and less elegance than usual, an intent look in his eyes.
“Oh yeah? So I take it you can’t hang out with your oldest and best friend?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “I see you every day, Malfoy. I haven’t seen the Weasleys in ages. And Ginny doesn’t count, I work with her. Not a very exciting way to spend time with a friend.”
“But what else am I supposed to do tomorrow night, Parks? You’ll be off surrounded by at least ten thousand Weasleys, and Zabini will be off searching for the Loch Ness monster with Lovegood or something.”
“Christ, Malfoy, are you pouting?”
“No, never,” Draco pouted.
Pansy let out a long-suffering type of sigh. “Well, I guess you could be my date tomorrow night, then.”
The blond man smirked as he leaned back in his chair. “Excellent.”
“So glad your master plan to ogle Ginny worked out well for you,” Pansy said casually, taking a stab at her dessert.
“What?!” Draco sputtered.
“Honestly, sometimes I wonder why we associate at all,” Pansy drawled. “I’m not thick.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Parks,” Draco said with a sniff. “You’re clearly going around the bend.”
Pansy hid a grin. Malfoy was so cute when he was in denial.
IV
“It’s really rather pathetic, isn’t it?” Ron asked Pansy on Saturday night. They were standing in Bill and Fleur Weasley’s backyard, watching in a shared cocktail of one part amusement and one part exasperation as Draco and Ginny continued the bickering that had begun as soon as they’d caught sight of each other.
Pansy made a noise of agreement in the back of her throat. “Maybe not as pathetic as the fact that Draco changed his outfit a total of five times before he’d even set foot outside his door.”
“That ponce,” Ron said, taking a swig from the bottle he held loosely in his fingers. “Ginny only changed hers three times.”
“Do you think they’ll go home together tonight?” Pansy asked casually, studying her own drink. “And what is this you’re making me consume, exactly?”
“Fuck’s sake, Pansy, don’t do that to me. Talk about mental breakdown. And don’t worry about it - it’s good, isn’t it?”
Pansy smirked and touched her glass to Ron’s drink. “I concede, oh great bartender. And just so you know, I do think they’ll be shacking up within the hour.”
“That’s it,” Ron grumbled, “no more drinks for you.”
“Oh, come on,” Pansy said with a laugh, “she’s a big girl now.”
“She’ll forever be my younger sister,” Ron said, glowering now at Draco and Ginny, who had taken their bickering to the makeshift dance floor. The rest of the party gave them a wide berth, all smirking knowingly.
“Thank God I haven’t got any older brothers,” Pansy joked, nudging Ron with her elbow, “if they’re all as annoyingly overprotective as you.”
Ron’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on his drink as the wind changed suddenly, bringing towards him a waft of her light perfume. It was intoxicating - it was completely Pansy. “Yeah,” he choked out, “nobody I’d have to suck up to.”
At Pansy’s confused look, he set his bottle down on the table next to them and grabbed her hand. “Come on, Pansy,” he said, tugging her towards the dance floor. “Don’t tell me you can’t dance in those shoes.”
And as Pansy’s brain caught up to her, she grinned wickedly at Ron’s back, allowing him to lead her forwards. “Oh, Weasley,” she drawled, “I think it’s you we have to worry about.”
Ron idly tugged on a lock of Pansy’s silky hair as they swayed slowly to the beat, her curves pressed up against his own lean frame. “I wanted to do this more than anything two years ago, you know,” Ron murmured, breath caressing the fragile curve of her ear.
Pansy shivered at the reassuring press of his hand on the small of her back. “What, dance? At your going away party?”
“Mmm,” Ron agreed, piercing blue eyes studying her intently from underneath heavy lids.
“Then why didn’t you ask?”
“Because I was a git. And I was leaving for a two-year stint abroad the next morning - can you really blame me?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Honestly, why do I associate with you at all? You should have asked, Weasley. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to beat around the bush like we are now.”
Ron grinned down at her. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
“Hmmm,” Pansy mused, pressing a finger to her lips, drawing Ron’s attention to the fullness of them. “I suppose you could try kissing me.”
Neither of them, of course, noticed as Draco and Ginny snuck off into the darkness hand-in-hand.
V
On Sunday morning, Pansy awoke to the delicious feel of one Ron Weasley hugging her to himself in his sleep. Her lips curved up into a smirk as she recalled the previous night - she’d always had her suspicions that Weasleys were packing more than they let on.
“What’s so funny?” a now-awake Ron murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to her bare shoulder.
“Just wondering if all the Weasley men take after each other.”
There was a beat as Ron’s sleep-fogged brain processed her words. And then - “Damnit, Pansy!”
Pansy laughed as she pressed a hand to his stubble-roughened cheek. “You know you’re the only Weasley for me, Ron.”
“So,” Ron said, after spending long moments snogging Pansy senseless, “what would you like to have for breakfast?”
“A man who’ll cook for me? I think I’m going to have to keep you.”
“You’d better believe it.”
“What do you think we should have for breakfast?”
Ron leered at Pansy. “I did buy cucumbers the other day too, you know.”
“Honestly,” Pansy said with a snort, “sometimes - ”
“ - sometimes you wonder why you associate with me at all, I know.”
And then, of course, Ron took it into his very capable hands to remind Pansy precisely why.
Fin.
Here be mine own, originally posted here.
Author: turkeyish
Recipient: xalexandriam
Title: A Guy, a Girl, and a Cucumber
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~2300
Warnings: Strong language
Genre: Rom-Com
Summary: Four times in which Pansy Parkinson wonders why she associates with Weasleys at all (and one time in which she wonders the same thing about a certain Malfoy).
Original Prompt: Ron and Pansy bump into each other while grocery shopping (Ron's buying Molly ingredients for a dish, Pansy's there for food). Sometime later, they see each other again at a May Day party Fleur throws for the adults in the Weasley family. Pansy's invited because she works with Ginny. Here's where my penchant for D/G comes in: Draco's Pansy date so he can see Ginny. Ron and Pansy spend the night together. They have breakfast the next day, 'cause Ron's adorable like that.
Author’s Notes: First off, a huge thank you to the amazing mods, who were more than understanding when real life reared its ugly head. You guys rock! I hope you find this to your liking, xalexandriam! It was a joy to write - your prompt was too fun.
A Guy, a Girl, and a Cucumber
I
It all started with something political scientists and hippies alike fondly refer to as The Green Movement.
A few years ago, when the monster was still barely stirring in its womb, a couple of wide-eyed twenty-somethings from somewhere in the southern United States decided that there was a need for a grocery store that sold only all-natural, organic, and sustainable products. The world scoffed, but flash-forward to the present: The Whole Foods Corporation now operates hundreds of grocery stores all over the globe. All of the shops look the same: cute, kitschy, bohemian-chic. But don’t let such outer appearances fool you. Whole Foods has cornered and monopolized an entire market that is now rapidly expanding and booming in the face of the twentieth-first century’s search for the next big thing. And right now, it looks as though the next big thing is going to remain The Green Movement for many years to come.
And so it was that Ron Weasley found himself passing through the automatic doors of the closest Whole Foods one fine Wednesday afternoon. There was a Whole Foods on nearly every street corner of London, it seemed, and when Molly Weasley had Floo’d her youngest son and shoved a grocery list into his hands, Ron’s feet had automatically turned themselves towards the Whole Foods that sat only a block away from his flat.
A short while later, Ron whistled softly to himself as he lazily pushed his shopping cart towards the vegetable aisle.
“Fuck,” a feminine voice muttered ahead of him - a slightly husky voice that came with the best pair of legs Ron could ever remember seeing in his entire life. Ron grinned and took a moment to appreciate the way the woman’s slender but shapely legs spilled out from beneath a form-fitting skirt to end in a pair of high heels. He’d never seen shoes with red soles like the unknown woman’s - he noted idly to himself that he quite liked the touch.
Ron pointedly cleared his throat as he wheeled his cart around so that he stood beside the woman. “Do you need any help?”
“Fuck!” The woman turned towards Ron, a scowl on her face. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to sneak up on people like that?” Her impossibly blue eyes widened as they met Ron’s own. “Weasley?”
Ron couldn’t help but laugh. He’d know those jet-black locks and upturned nose anywhere. “Pansy? What the hell are you doing here?”
Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes. “I do eat too, Weasley. The question is what are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know,” Ron said amiably, leaning against his cart. “Quidditch finally pays me enough money to eat.”
“That’s good to hear,” Pansy murmured, eyeing the tall man haughtily. She lasted all of ten seconds before her face broke out into a massive grin and she launched herself at Ron for a huge hug. “I haven’t seen you in two years!” she exclaimed, punching him on the arm to emphasize any displeasure she felt at that fact. “You couldn’t owl me, at least?”
“Jesus, Pansy, I’d forgotten the fact that you punch like an Auror,” Ron grumbled good-naturedly, rubbing the spot. “You know how it is, playing Quidditch abroad. And I’ve only been back since yesterday.”
“No massive Weasley dinner to welcome you back?”
“Not until I report back to Mum with all these groceries,” Ron answered, waving at his cart.
Pansy laughed. “Poor Weasley, shopping for his own homecoming dinner.”
“Oi, Mum’s special casserole will be well worth it. Why don’t you come over?”
“Oh, I can’t,” Pansy said, a look of real regret on her face. “I’m meant to host a dinner party at my place tonight - Blaise finally asked Luna to marry him.”
Ron shook his head in mock sadness. “I can’t believe they’ve lasted this long. I can’t believe we allowed it to happen.”
“Trust me,” Pansy said with another laugh, “I wonder why all the time. Especially when Blaise goes all googly-eyed every time Luna starts going on about Wrackspurts - which we all know she does about once every hour.”
Ron grinned at what they both knew was the truth - Luna was slightly odd, but Blaise was head over heels in love with her. “So you’re cooking? Since when?”
Pansy flashed a rude hand gesture at Ron, who merely held his hands up in surrender, with an entirely too innocent expression on his face. “I’m not, actually - Malfoy is. But he made me do the shopping. No idea why, it’s not as though I’m any better at this than I would be at cooking.”
Ron laughed. “It can’t be all that bad. What do you need?”
Pansy thoughtfully eyed the contents of her own cart for a moment, and then glanced at a list she held in one hand. “I have everything I need…aside from a cucumber. I need one cucumber.”
Ron swept a hand out in a majestic sort of way, indicating the cucumber stand in front of them. “Well then, there you go. All the cucumbers in the world - or, er, greater London, at least - at your service.”
Pansy warily eyed the mound of cucumbers, which reached higher than her own petite frame. And then she eyed Ron and pouted. “But there’re so many. How do I know which one to choose?”
Ron passed very close to Pansy as he leaned forward to grab a cucumber from the pile. “Well, this one seems perfect,” he said, turning it over in his hands so that she could see all of it. “No spots or blemishes or anything. Good green color, and firm.” He held it out towards her. “See? That was easy.”
Pansy saluted him as she took the proffered fruit. “Thanks, Weasley. Looks like being a mummy’s boy really does pay off,” she said with a smirk.
Ron just flashed a crooked grin at her, blue eyes sparkling. “You know how else you can tell if a cucumber is worth buying?”
“How?”
“Decide if the shape of it is something that would bring you maximum…pleasure.”
Pansy’s brow furrowed for a split-second. And then - “Jesus, Weasley! Why do I associate with you at all?”
Ron grinned down at her as she silently placed the cucumber in a plastic bag, brow furrowed once more in concentration.
“So,” Pansy said casually, once she had tied up the bag. “Do girls really do that? Does it really work?”
Ron’s laughter echoed throughout the entire store.
II
“Here you go, Pans,” Ginny Weasley said as she swept into the office that they shared at the headquarters of The Quibbler on Thursday morning and set Pansy’s customary cup of coffee down in front of her.
“Thanks, Gin,” Pansy murmured as she continued to pore over the story she was currently working on.
“No problem,” the petite redhead said as she settled herself at her desk. “Hey, Pans?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing on Saturday night?”
“Nothing that I know of,” Pansy answered, scribbling notes furiously.
“Oh, good. Fleur’s having a May Day get together, and you should come.”
“May Day?” Pansy asked, finally looking up at the other woman. “Who celebrates May Day?”
“We do,” Ginny sniffed, flashing a rude hand gesture at her friend.
Pansy laughed. “And by celebrate, of course you mean use a random bank holiday as an excuse to get piss drunk?”
“Well,” Ginny said with a grin, “we are Weasleys, after all.”
“You lush. I can’t believe I associate with you at all,” Pansy said affectionately, letting out a laugh as she ducked the ball of parchment that Ginny tossed half-heartedly at her head.
III
On Friday evening, over their customary end-of-the-week dinner, Draco Malfoy asked Pansy what she was doing on Saturday.
“Oh, you know, going to some thing at some Weasley’s place,” Pansy answered, pretending not to notice the way Draco leaned over the dinner table with more haste and less elegance than usual, an intent look in his eyes.
“Oh yeah? So I take it you can’t hang out with your oldest and best friend?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “I see you every day, Malfoy. I haven’t seen the Weasleys in ages. And Ginny doesn’t count, I work with her. Not a very exciting way to spend time with a friend.”
“But what else am I supposed to do tomorrow night, Parks? You’ll be off surrounded by at least ten thousand Weasleys, and Zabini will be off searching for the Loch Ness monster with Lovegood or something.”
“Christ, Malfoy, are you pouting?”
“No, never,” Draco pouted.
Pansy let out a long-suffering type of sigh. “Well, I guess you could be my date tomorrow night, then.”
The blond man smirked as he leaned back in his chair. “Excellent.”
“So glad your master plan to ogle Ginny worked out well for you,” Pansy said casually, taking a stab at her dessert.
“What?!” Draco sputtered.
“Honestly, sometimes I wonder why we associate at all,” Pansy drawled. “I’m not thick.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Parks,” Draco said with a sniff. “You’re clearly going around the bend.”
Pansy hid a grin. Malfoy was so cute when he was in denial.
IV
“It’s really rather pathetic, isn’t it?” Ron asked Pansy on Saturday night. They were standing in Bill and Fleur Weasley’s backyard, watching in a shared cocktail of one part amusement and one part exasperation as Draco and Ginny continued the bickering that had begun as soon as they’d caught sight of each other.
Pansy made a noise of agreement in the back of her throat. “Maybe not as pathetic as the fact that Draco changed his outfit a total of five times before he’d even set foot outside his door.”
“That ponce,” Ron said, taking a swig from the bottle he held loosely in his fingers. “Ginny only changed hers three times.”
“Do you think they’ll go home together tonight?” Pansy asked casually, studying her own drink. “And what is this you’re making me consume, exactly?”
“Fuck’s sake, Pansy, don’t do that to me. Talk about mental breakdown. And don’t worry about it - it’s good, isn’t it?”
Pansy smirked and touched her glass to Ron’s drink. “I concede, oh great bartender. And just so you know, I do think they’ll be shacking up within the hour.”
“That’s it,” Ron grumbled, “no more drinks for you.”
“Oh, come on,” Pansy said with a laugh, “she’s a big girl now.”
“She’ll forever be my younger sister,” Ron said, glowering now at Draco and Ginny, who had taken their bickering to the makeshift dance floor. The rest of the party gave them a wide berth, all smirking knowingly.
“Thank God I haven’t got any older brothers,” Pansy joked, nudging Ron with her elbow, “if they’re all as annoyingly overprotective as you.”
Ron’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on his drink as the wind changed suddenly, bringing towards him a waft of her light perfume. It was intoxicating - it was completely Pansy. “Yeah,” he choked out, “nobody I’d have to suck up to.”
At Pansy’s confused look, he set his bottle down on the table next to them and grabbed her hand. “Come on, Pansy,” he said, tugging her towards the dance floor. “Don’t tell me you can’t dance in those shoes.”
And as Pansy’s brain caught up to her, she grinned wickedly at Ron’s back, allowing him to lead her forwards. “Oh, Weasley,” she drawled, “I think it’s you we have to worry about.”
Ron idly tugged on a lock of Pansy’s silky hair as they swayed slowly to the beat, her curves pressed up against his own lean frame. “I wanted to do this more than anything two years ago, you know,” Ron murmured, breath caressing the fragile curve of her ear.
Pansy shivered at the reassuring press of his hand on the small of her back. “What, dance? At your going away party?”
“Mmm,” Ron agreed, piercing blue eyes studying her intently from underneath heavy lids.
“Then why didn’t you ask?”
“Because I was a git. And I was leaving for a two-year stint abroad the next morning - can you really blame me?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Honestly, why do I associate with you at all? You should have asked, Weasley. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to beat around the bush like we are now.”
Ron grinned down at her. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
“Hmmm,” Pansy mused, pressing a finger to her lips, drawing Ron’s attention to the fullness of them. “I suppose you could try kissing me.”
Neither of them, of course, noticed as Draco and Ginny snuck off into the darkness hand-in-hand.
V
On Sunday morning, Pansy awoke to the delicious feel of one Ron Weasley hugging her to himself in his sleep. Her lips curved up into a smirk as she recalled the previous night - she’d always had her suspicions that Weasleys were packing more than they let on.
“What’s so funny?” a now-awake Ron murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to her bare shoulder.
“Just wondering if all the Weasley men take after each other.”
There was a beat as Ron’s sleep-fogged brain processed her words. And then - “Damnit, Pansy!”
Pansy laughed as she pressed a hand to his stubble-roughened cheek. “You know you’re the only Weasley for me, Ron.”
“So,” Ron said, after spending long moments snogging Pansy senseless, “what would you like to have for breakfast?”
“A man who’ll cook for me? I think I’m going to have to keep you.”
“You’d better believe it.”
“What do you think we should have for breakfast?”
Ron leered at Pansy. “I did buy cucumbers the other day too, you know.”
“Honestly,” Pansy said with a snort, “sometimes - ”
“ - sometimes you wonder why you associate with me at all, I know.”
And then, of course, Ron took it into his very capable hands to remind Pansy precisely why.
Fin.