The Evanescence of Doubt
Title: The Evanescence of Doubt
Author: Carrie_Leigh
Characters: Ron/Pansy
Prompt: Always
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me.
Author's Note: The reason for all this spam (or writing) for the hp_humpdrabbles community's Hump Madness Event is because by a miracle of gigantic proportions, I WON! I beat thirty other people, I think. Go figure. Tens of people voted for me. :) Extra credit goes to jandjsalmon for being my super sweet and talented beta!
It was only a fleeting feeling when he came into St. Mungo’s trauma ward and Pansy treated him for severe spell damage. Auror Ron Weasely grinned at her, placed a hand to her cheek and whispered, “…So pretty.”
Pansy was fairly certain it was the pain potion talking.
But it happened again a month later, when his messy-haired, speccy, savior-of-the-world friend arrived, hanging onto life by a thread. After hours of intensive work, when she finally walked into the crowded waiting room and proclaimed tiredly, “He’s going to be fine,” she was swept up into a bone-crushing hug.
It was evanescent emotion, she was sure. Changeable. She’d saved his mate, after all. And Pansy wasn’t exactly the hugging type.
Ron Weasley seemed not to care.
After that, Ron began pursuing her. He’d arrive at the hospital with flowers and a dinner invitation. He’d come and sit in the cafeteria during her break, daily enduring hospital food. When she told him that she was not his type, he dismissed it altogether.
And then the thought crept into Pansy’s mind that perhaps to Ron Weasley, she was more than a passing fancy.
A grin as wide as she’d ever seen split his face when she finally consented to go out with him. He was so happy that he leaned down impulsively and kissed her, his arms holding her in a passionate embrace, his lips making her forget her doubts. When his hand threaded through the back of her hair and his tongue brushed against hers, her knees actually buckled a bit.
Pansy Parkinson’s knees did not buckle.
But the buckling led to a date. And then another.
It ended with Ron taking her home and undressing her, running his hands against her warm skin, trailing his lips to places that made her tremble and shake with want.
Pansy was still certain that the relationship wouldn’t last.
She was wrong. He continued to put up with her terrible schedule and her cranky moods. When she argued that their relationship was temporary, he disagreed with her and they shouted and fought. At the end of it all, Pansy decided that it was over, indeed. She’d been right. It was only ever a transitory arrangement. Ron Weasley wasn’t something that she could have for always.
A little over two months later, when he came into the hospital again, barely breathing, his heartbeat slowing by the moment, a sense of panic flooded through Pansy. It wasn’t a panic of a healer saving a patient, it was the feeling of utter stupidity, that she’d let someone that she loved, and who genuinely loved her, slip away.
Pansy slaved to save his life all night and well into the morning. She worked tirelessly, performing one countercurse after another until she was hoarse and exhausted. When Ron finally awoke, he looked into her eyes, smiled and whispered, “…So pretty.”
Pansy knew it was not the pain potion.
It was them. It was love. They were forever.
They were always.
Author: Carrie_Leigh
Characters: Ron/Pansy
Prompt: Always
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me.
Author's Note: The reason for all this spam (or writing) for the hp_humpdrabbles community's Hump Madness Event is because by a miracle of gigantic proportions, I WON! I beat thirty other people, I think. Go figure. Tens of people voted for me. :) Extra credit goes to jandjsalmon for being my super sweet and talented beta!
It was only a fleeting feeling when he came into St. Mungo’s trauma ward and Pansy treated him for severe spell damage. Auror Ron Weasely grinned at her, placed a hand to her cheek and whispered, “…So pretty.”
Pansy was fairly certain it was the pain potion talking.
But it happened again a month later, when his messy-haired, speccy, savior-of-the-world friend arrived, hanging onto life by a thread. After hours of intensive work, when she finally walked into the crowded waiting room and proclaimed tiredly, “He’s going to be fine,” she was swept up into a bone-crushing hug.
It was evanescent emotion, she was sure. Changeable. She’d saved his mate, after all. And Pansy wasn’t exactly the hugging type.
Ron Weasley seemed not to care.
After that, Ron began pursuing her. He’d arrive at the hospital with flowers and a dinner invitation. He’d come and sit in the cafeteria during her break, daily enduring hospital food. When she told him that she was not his type, he dismissed it altogether.
And then the thought crept into Pansy’s mind that perhaps to Ron Weasley, she was more than a passing fancy.
A grin as wide as she’d ever seen split his face when she finally consented to go out with him. He was so happy that he leaned down impulsively and kissed her, his arms holding her in a passionate embrace, his lips making her forget her doubts. When his hand threaded through the back of her hair and his tongue brushed against hers, her knees actually buckled a bit.
Pansy Parkinson’s knees did not buckle.
But the buckling led to a date. And then another.
It ended with Ron taking her home and undressing her, running his hands against her warm skin, trailing his lips to places that made her tremble and shake with want.
Pansy was still certain that the relationship wouldn’t last.
She was wrong. He continued to put up with her terrible schedule and her cranky moods. When she argued that their relationship was temporary, he disagreed with her and they shouted and fought. At the end of it all, Pansy decided that it was over, indeed. She’d been right. It was only ever a transitory arrangement. Ron Weasley wasn’t something that she could have for always.
A little over two months later, when he came into the hospital again, barely breathing, his heartbeat slowing by the moment, a sense of panic flooded through Pansy. It wasn’t a panic of a healer saving a patient, it was the feeling of utter stupidity, that she’d let someone that she loved, and who genuinely loved her, slip away.
Pansy slaved to save his life all night and well into the morning. She worked tirelessly, performing one countercurse after another until she was hoarse and exhausted. When Ron finally awoke, he looked into her eyes, smiled and whispered, “…So pretty.”
Pansy knew it was not the pain potion.
It was them. It was love. They were forever.
They were always.