Red is her Colour
Title: Red is her Colour
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Pansy Parkinson, Ron Weasley
Genres: Drama, Romance
Warnings: None
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Pansy just had some bad news.
Author's Note: Written for the ronpansy_ldws Round One, Challenge One. The prompt was the quote "He liked to observe emotions; they were like red lanterns strung along the dark unknown of another's personality, marking vulnerable points." by Ayn Rand AND/OR this image, and word count was supposed to be 150-399 words. Original prompt can be found here. I won Mods' Choice!
Length: 399 words.
She swirled and twirled on the dance floor, a flurry of red where there used to be pink. Pink’s a girl’s colour, she’d said. I’m a woman now. Red is my colour. It suits me better.
No doubt that she was a woman inside out. Ron watched her as she was completely lost to the music, oblivious to her dance partner, caught in her own mindless passion. She was strong, accomplished, passionate-but today someone had managed to pierce her armour, to make it around her defences, and she was now nothing but a wounded animal, bleeding all over the dance floor as her flimsy red robes billowed around her.
Draco’s getting married. To my best friend’s little sister! she had said, her tears threatening to spill.
Ron looked away. There was a bitter taste in his mouth that he couldn’t swallow, and a heaviness in his chest that couldn’t be made to go away. She shouldn’t care if Malfoy was getting married. She should be over him by now! The fact that she wasn’t... it was too telling. He couldn’t stay any longer. He turned away, intent on going home.
Hermione appeared in front of him, looking worried. “Don’t do anything rash,” she said. “Don’t let jealousy cloud your judgement. We all have baggage.”
Jealousy? Ron looked back at Pansy, a bright red spot in a sea of muted pastels. She made the rest of the world look washed out and dull. She was passion. She was life. This red haze he was feeling coursing through his body was not some irrational, happiness-robbing emotion. It was her, creeping into his system, taking it over, and telling him... he should’ve been someone else. He couldn’t make her happy. “It’s fine,” he said and left. He knew Hermione didn’t believe him, but it was still easier to lie.
He hadn’t been home long before Pansy suddenly appeared at his door, angry and flushed, as always running red hot with emotion. He loved the way her eyes sparked at him. It made him feel like she cared. “Never do that again! Never leave me behind,” was all she said.
“What’s the point?” he quietly asked. “Why torment me when you’d rather be with him?”
At that, she merely smiled and reached up to touch his hair. “I told you. I’m a woman now. Red is my colour. It suits me better.”
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Pansy Parkinson, Ron Weasley
Genres: Drama, Romance
Warnings: None
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Pansy just had some bad news.
Author's Note: Written for the ronpansy_ldws Round One, Challenge One. The prompt was the quote "He liked to observe emotions; they were like red lanterns strung along the dark unknown of another's personality, marking vulnerable points." by Ayn Rand AND/OR this image, and word count was supposed to be 150-399 words. Original prompt can be found here. I won Mods' Choice!
Length: 399 words.
She swirled and twirled on the dance floor, a flurry of red where there used to be pink. Pink’s a girl’s colour, she’d said. I’m a woman now. Red is my colour. It suits me better.
No doubt that she was a woman inside out. Ron watched her as she was completely lost to the music, oblivious to her dance partner, caught in her own mindless passion. She was strong, accomplished, passionate-but today someone had managed to pierce her armour, to make it around her defences, and she was now nothing but a wounded animal, bleeding all over the dance floor as her flimsy red robes billowed around her.
Draco’s getting married. To my best friend’s little sister! she had said, her tears threatening to spill.
Ron looked away. There was a bitter taste in his mouth that he couldn’t swallow, and a heaviness in his chest that couldn’t be made to go away. She shouldn’t care if Malfoy was getting married. She should be over him by now! The fact that she wasn’t... it was too telling. He couldn’t stay any longer. He turned away, intent on going home.
Hermione appeared in front of him, looking worried. “Don’t do anything rash,” she said. “Don’t let jealousy cloud your judgement. We all have baggage.”
Jealousy? Ron looked back at Pansy, a bright red spot in a sea of muted pastels. She made the rest of the world look washed out and dull. She was passion. She was life. This red haze he was feeling coursing through his body was not some irrational, happiness-robbing emotion. It was her, creeping into his system, taking it over, and telling him... he should’ve been someone else. He couldn’t make her happy. “It’s fine,” he said and left. He knew Hermione didn’t believe him, but it was still easier to lie.
He hadn’t been home long before Pansy suddenly appeared at his door, angry and flushed, as always running red hot with emotion. He loved the way her eyes sparked at him. It made him feel like she cared. “Never do that again! Never leave me behind,” was all she said.
“What’s the point?” he quietly asked. “Why torment me when you’d rather be with him?”
At that, she merely smiled and reached up to touch his hair. “I told you. I’m a woman now. Red is my colour. It suits me better.”