Leigh!fic | A Mutual Arrangement (1/1) | Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Title: A Mutual Arrangement (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: PG
Word Count: 831
Summary: They'd both agreed it was for the best, but Pansy had never expected to be jealous.
Author’s Notes: Written for scarletladyy as part of my Spring 2013 Drabble Meme. This was fun to write, Fairy, and I hope you enjoy it!
She was not jealous.
Pansy Parkinson was many things. She was a Slytherin to the core; a bitch with a heart of stone who routinely hexed Pygmy Puffs and stole candy from small children for amusement (or so her detractors believed). She was fabulously wealthy, being the last surviving Parkinson. Even after the Ministry had claimed war reparations, her Gringotts vault was still stacked to the ceiling.
She could be moody, catty, and judgmental -- often at the same time. Her favorite hobbies were drinking wine and judging others. But she was not -- Merlin forbid -- jealous.
Especially not of some two-bit trollop from Ipswich who didn't have the sense the gods gave a flobberworm.
But here she was, practically seething at the sight of Rose Zeller -- a girl barely out of Hogwarts, mind -- pressing her breasts against one Ronald Billius Weasley's arm. The little girl was all blonde hair and sunshine, with plump lips and round hips. She looked like some dairy maid fresh from the countryside.
Ron was oblivious to everything. He didn't notice the way the little harlot clutched at him, giggling breathily at everything he said. And he certainly hadn't noticed the death glare aimed at his date for the evening.
She sniffed delicately and took a sip of her champagne. Why should she, one of richest and most beautiful witches in England, be jealous of that?
The answer was simple. Because Rose 'Trollop' Zeller was her boyfriend's date.
"It's your own fault, you know."
Lips pursed, Pansy gave her supposedly best friend a side-eyed glare. "Do shut your mouth, Draco, before I spell it so for you."
Draco smirked, nonplussed at the threat. As her date for the evening, it was his duty to see to her every whim. Instead, the prat was deliberately poking at her unstable mindset -- for fun. His gray eyes glanced towards Ron and Rose, one fair brow rising when the blonde leaned in to closer to hear something her date said -- displaying her ample cleavage prominently.
"They make such a striking couple, wouldn't you agree?"
"I agree that my foot will be striking your nether regions shortly," declared Pansy heatedly, "if you do not shut your mouth and fetch me another drink."
He 'tsked' at her. "Another? What does that make by now, my dearest? Four or five?"
"As touching as your concern is," she replied, leveling heated blue eyes at him, "it's champagne, not Firewhiskey, and it is needed to get through this farce of an evening."
"A farce which, I repeat, is your own fault."
"Oh, shut up."
She didn't want to admit it -- so she wouldn't -- but he was right. Her relationship with Ron was in early days yet, and neither of them were sure how to handle it outside the privacy of their homes. She was not ashamed of him, but it had taken her nearly a year to discern her feelings for Ron Weasley -- feelings that were no longer those of scorn and mutual loathing. She was quite protective of what they had and was not yet ready to subject their fledgling partnership to the outside world.
He'd agreed -- which was why they'd attended the annual British and Irish Quidditch League gala separately. They'd even gone so far as to bring their own dates; a decision which Pansy was sorely regretting at the moment.
"Fine, don't admit it." Draco shrugged and leaned against the balcony next to her, sweeping his gaze out over the ballroom. "But you know I'm right."
"I have absolutely no idea what Astoria sees in you."
"Sheer animal magnetism," he answered smugly. "I'd ask you what you saw in the Weasel, but I don't feel like losing my dinner just yet."
"Please do us all a favor and throw yourself out the window, darling."
"And deprive all the ladies of the sight of the most handsome man in attendance?" Draco scoffed. "I'm cruel, Pansy, but I'm hardly a sadist. You're the masochist in this arrangement."
Unbidden, her eyes once again sought out the object of her torment -- blue eyes meeting blue when she noticed he was staring up at her. She held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, though it was likely only a few seconds. Pansy hoped Draco didn't notice the slight color that rose to her cheeks, the way her lips tugged upwards in her first smile of the evening.
And then Ron's attention was pulled back down to Rose, and the moment was broken.
Her impervious expression returned, and Draco sighed. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over her cheek. "Come down and dance with me. Let's make these sots jealous."
She glanced up at him, a smirk twitching her lips. "Why darling, I thought you'd never ask."
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: PG
Word Count: 831
Summary: They'd both agreed it was for the best, but Pansy had never expected to be jealous.
Author’s Notes: Written for scarletladyy as part of my Spring 2013 Drabble Meme. This was fun to write, Fairy, and I hope you enjoy it!
She was not jealous.
Pansy Parkinson was many things. She was a Slytherin to the core; a bitch with a heart of stone who routinely hexed Pygmy Puffs and stole candy from small children for amusement (or so her detractors believed). She was fabulously wealthy, being the last surviving Parkinson. Even after the Ministry had claimed war reparations, her Gringotts vault was still stacked to the ceiling.
She could be moody, catty, and judgmental -- often at the same time. Her favorite hobbies were drinking wine and judging others. But she was not -- Merlin forbid -- jealous.
Especially not of some two-bit trollop from Ipswich who didn't have the sense the gods gave a flobberworm.
But here she was, practically seething at the sight of Rose Zeller -- a girl barely out of Hogwarts, mind -- pressing her breasts against one Ronald Billius Weasley's arm. The little girl was all blonde hair and sunshine, with plump lips and round hips. She looked like some dairy maid fresh from the countryside.
Ron was oblivious to everything. He didn't notice the way the little harlot clutched at him, giggling breathily at everything he said. And he certainly hadn't noticed the death glare aimed at his date for the evening.
She sniffed delicately and took a sip of her champagne. Why should she, one of richest and most beautiful witches in England, be jealous of that?
The answer was simple. Because Rose 'Trollop' Zeller was her boyfriend's date.
"It's your own fault, you know."
Lips pursed, Pansy gave her supposedly best friend a side-eyed glare. "Do shut your mouth, Draco, before I spell it so for you."
Draco smirked, nonplussed at the threat. As her date for the evening, it was his duty to see to her every whim. Instead, the prat was deliberately poking at her unstable mindset -- for fun. His gray eyes glanced towards Ron and Rose, one fair brow rising when the blonde leaned in to closer to hear something her date said -- displaying her ample cleavage prominently.
"They make such a striking couple, wouldn't you agree?"
"I agree that my foot will be striking your nether regions shortly," declared Pansy heatedly, "if you do not shut your mouth and fetch me another drink."
He 'tsked' at her. "Another? What does that make by now, my dearest? Four or five?"
"As touching as your concern is," she replied, leveling heated blue eyes at him, "it's champagne, not Firewhiskey, and it is needed to get through this farce of an evening."
"A farce which, I repeat, is your own fault."
"Oh, shut up."
She didn't want to admit it -- so she wouldn't -- but he was right. Her relationship with Ron was in early days yet, and neither of them were sure how to handle it outside the privacy of their homes. She was not ashamed of him, but it had taken her nearly a year to discern her feelings for Ron Weasley -- feelings that were no longer those of scorn and mutual loathing. She was quite protective of what they had and was not yet ready to subject their fledgling partnership to the outside world.
He'd agreed -- which was why they'd attended the annual British and Irish Quidditch League gala separately. They'd even gone so far as to bring their own dates; a decision which Pansy was sorely regretting at the moment.
"Fine, don't admit it." Draco shrugged and leaned against the balcony next to her, sweeping his gaze out over the ballroom. "But you know I'm right."
"I have absolutely no idea what Astoria sees in you."
"Sheer animal magnetism," he answered smugly. "I'd ask you what you saw in the Weasel, but I don't feel like losing my dinner just yet."
"Please do us all a favor and throw yourself out the window, darling."
"And deprive all the ladies of the sight of the most handsome man in attendance?" Draco scoffed. "I'm cruel, Pansy, but I'm hardly a sadist. You're the masochist in this arrangement."
Unbidden, her eyes once again sought out the object of her torment -- blue eyes meeting blue when she noticed he was staring up at her. She held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, though it was likely only a few seconds. Pansy hoped Draco didn't notice the slight color that rose to her cheeks, the way her lips tugged upwards in her first smile of the evening.
And then Ron's attention was pulled back down to Rose, and the moment was broken.
Her impervious expression returned, and Draco sighed. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over her cheek. "Come down and dance with me. Let's make these sots jealous."
She glanced up at him, a smirk twitching her lips. "Why darling, I thought you'd never ask."