I Beg Your Pardon, Potter?

Chapter 34

So Pansy and Blaise had almost slept together last week. Ron wasn't sure how this made him feel. Obviously it irked him, but at the end of the day, he was the one who had just made out with her for the better part of an hour and Blaise wasn't. Plus, she had said she had wanted it to be him, which he was going to take as a good sign. Even if she was just saying it so that he would feel better.

He touched a hand to his lips as he made his way up to the Gryffindor tower. Part of him couldn't believe what had just happened. That he, Ron Weasley, had just been kissing Pansy Parkinson. Pansy Parkinson who wouldn't even have given him the time of day a few weeks ago (or, rather, would have, but it would have been in the form of an insult). Pansy Parkinson, who a few weeks ago wouldn't have even crossed his mind if someone had asked him who he would go out with if given the chance. But here he was. Smitten. With Pansy Parkinson.

Perhaps Snape was a matchmaker after all. That was a scary thought.

Ron went through the ritual of getting ready for bed without really thinking about it. Take off costume, pull on pajamas, brush teeth. It was only when he was finally laying in bed, staring up at the canopy of his four poster bed, that he realized how happy he was. He reached out with one arm, brought his spare pillow to his chest and hugged it.

Wait, did this mean they were dating? Or did he actually have to ask her. Dread crept over him, dampening his joy. What if she said no? What if all she wanted to do was have sex with him? (Was that such a terrible prospect?)

He rolled over onto his side, questions now running through his mind. He sighed and clutched at the pillow. He listened to the sounds of his fellow dorm mates snoring, and noticed that there were fewer snores than he had anticipated. Suddenly curious, he sat up and stuck his head outside of the bed curtains. Harry and Seamus's beds were still empty. Curious. Seamus he had expected, but Harry? It was very unlike him to be later to bed than Ron. He supposed Harry was still with Malfoy doing things that Ron would rather not think about. He grimaced and forced his thoughts back to Pansy.

Oh Pansy.

In his mind's eye he could see her dark eyes flashing as she'd caught his eye across the Great Hall at dinner. Her costume had been perfect - her long, dark hair tied up in a ponytail and her dress that hugged all of her lovely curves. Oh, that dress. With its long slit up the side and its floaty, diaphanous material. It had fit her like a glove and yet had flowed in a way that Ron had found incredibly appealing.

Indeed, even just thinking back on it now, he found himself growing excited. He closed his eyes and imagined her lips on his again. Imagined her hands running through his hair. Imagined her hands running over his chest. Imagined her hands moving south and... It was too much. He reached into his pajama trousers and imagined that his hands were her hands.

Oh, Pansy.

Later, he fell asleep with her name on his lips.

...

The morning dawned far too early and far too bright. Harry groaned as he rolled over and scrabbled around on the bedside table for his glasses. He had snuck into Gryffindor tower at an hour so late that he didn't even want to contemplate it.

But it had been worth it. Circe, had it been worth it.

He located his glasses on the nightstand and put them blearily on his face. He could hear the rest of the Gryffindor boys moaning and groaning in hungover unison.

"Why did Halloween have to be on a fucking Thursday?" Seamus asked, voicing the question on all of their minds.

"Why did I drink so much?" asked Neville.