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Chapter Text

Ron Weasley was brave. Even if others did not think so, he was sure of it. He had sacrificed himself in a life-sized game of wizarding chess for his friends, went into the Chamber of Secrets to save his sister, and stood up against Sirius (who at the time Ron believed was a murderer) to protect his best mate. So, yes, Ron Weasley was brave.

But it was not bravery which inspired Ron to ask Fleur Delacour to go to the Yule Ball with him. In fact, Ron really had no idea what it was that made him do it. But there he was, standing in the entrance hall in front of Fleur, Cedric Diggory, and a huge crowd of onlookers, feeling like he had gone absolutely mad.

So, Ron Weasley, who wasn’t afraid to stand up to murderers or enter dangerous dungeons, decided that the best course of action at that point was to turn around and run for it. So he did.

He dashed quickly out of the entrance hall. Then he turned a corner and after that decided that he wanted to put at least a few more hallways between him and Fleur Delacour. It was after a few more corners and staircases and turns that Ron had realized he was far from the Gryffindor common room— which would probably be the best place to hide from the embarrassment.

Ron rounded another corner to make his way back to his common room when he collided straight into someone! It took him a moment to get his bearings.

The person who he had run into was Pansy Parkinson.

Her shoulder-length black hair was messy, and her bangs were out of place and covering one of her eyes. She quickly pushed them back and Ron realized her cheeks were red and puffy. Tears pooled in the corner of her eyes.

Pansy stood up straight. “What’s wrong with you, Weasley?” she spat out. Ron could tell it was an attempt to divert away from her crying, but he honestly had no idea how to respond. Girls, especially when they cried, were still mostly a mystery to him. Pansy could obviously tell he had nothing to say, so she continued speaking, “You look like you are going to be sick. Been practicing dancing with Granger, then?”

“I’m not going to the ball with Hermione,” Ron said bluntly. He might have given a mean comeback to the girl after what she said, but the sight of Pansy had completely caught him off guard. He wasn’t about to make fun of a girl, even one he rightfully hated, when they were crying.

She sniffed hard and showed off an impish smile, “You don’t even have the nerve to ask big-tooth Granger to the ball? You’re pathetic.”

“I asked someone to the ball,” Ron stated matter-of-factly, “Just now, actually.”

“Is that why you look so pale? Got rejected, then?”

He had completely set himself up for that and decided just that moment that even if she had very obviously been crying and just barely qualified as a girl in his mind— that he had just about had enough of Pansy Parkinson.

“What— Draco decided to take Eloise Midgen instead of you? She’s far prettier.”

Pansy’s smile wiped from her face instantly. “Shut up, Weasley,” she said through her teeth.

“Struck a nerve, did I?” Ron said as he grinned, “So Draco really decided to toss you for someone else?”

“It was the other way around,” Pansy said as she stomped. Then she pulled out her wand and pointed it at Ron’s chest. He did not flinch, and Pansy just spoke again, “He’s stupid and insufferable— just like you!”

“So, you don’t have anyone to go with? I’m not even sure there’s a bloke desperate enough to go for you besides Malfoy— unfortunately.”

“Well seeing as you just got rejected, Weasley, I’d say you are the most desperate of them all.”

Ron laughed and prepared a perfect response. He thought about it twice over in his head before he spoke. But before he could speak, Pansy used the sleeve of her robes to wipe away the tears from one of her eyes. In that quick, passing moment, she did not look like the Pansy he knew at all. She looked vulnerable and hurt.

Suddenly his mind was jumbled again, but he had already begun speaking. Whatever came out of his mouth next was hardly something he could control.

“What, do you want to go to the ball with me or something?”

Ron stopped, and Pansy gave him a completely bewildered look and brought her wand back to her side.

Ron wondered if the words he spoke really came out of his mouth. What Ron meant to say was something sarcastic like, “Someone really wants to go to the ball with me,” or “I’m flattered you want to go with me but no thanks,” or quite frankly anything that was not what he had just said.

He could feel everything burning. First Fleur and now this? What good was bravery when his stupidity kept getting in the way?

“Fine. I’ll go with you,” Pansy said quickly enough that Ron nearly missed it.

“W-what?”

“It’ll drive Draco and Granger both mad and there’s hardly anyone left but third years and I won’t suffer that. So yes, since you very pathetically asked me, I’ll go to the ball with you.”

“No, w-wait, I—”

“Meet me at the library doors at seven after dinner tonight, I have a few dresses to pick from so I’ll decide before tonight and get you the color. I’ll let you know what time you should be at the Slytherin common room doors the night of the ball to pick me up.”

With that, Pansy Parkinson turned away without a smile or a goodbye or anything at all and left Ron standing alone.

Ron stood still for what must have been twenty minutes, or maybe it was only a few seconds, or maybe he stood there so long that the year was already over, and Harry had won the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He had no words to yell out to Pansy as she left him alone. None that he could find, anyways. He simply could not comprehend what had happened. So, he just stood in the middle of the hallway, frozen like he had been hit with a full body-bind.

When his feet finally did work after some undetermined amount of time, he slowly made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. Did he truly just ask Pansy Parkinson to the ball? He had not meant to, obviously. So, it didn’t count. But it did since she thought it did— but he didn’t want to go, so it didn’t have to count, right? His thoughts continued to race but they made very little sense. He replayed the conversation in his head with every step he took.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Ron spotted Harry seated in one of the chairs in the corner. Ginny was standing awkwardly next to him. They were talking to each other— but after a moment they both turned to look at him. Was he really about to tell them what had happened? He couldn’t tell Ginny. Not yet. Hopefully, not ever. He’d tell Harry. Harry could help him!

“Are you recovering from a slug-vomiting charm?” Ginny questioned him with a laugh, “You look terrible, Ron.”

“I want . . . to . . . uhh . . .”

Harry hadn’t said anything yet, and Ron’s words seemed like they couldn’t find a way out. Ginny just rolled her eyes, “I was asking Harry if you had asked anyone to the ball yet. There’s not a lot of options left! You both need to ask someone!”

“I err . . . tried,” Harry butted in. Ron looked over at him. “I asked Cho Chang to go with me just now, actually.” Ginny stopped smiling. Harry looked away from them and spoke dully, “She’s going with Cedric Diggory. Then I was going to ask Parvati. Maybe she could have helped get you a date too, Ron. But I was waiting for you, and some Beauxbaton boy got her first.”

“Damn,” Ron said quietly, “Well, Ginny you can go with Harry. I’ll just, uhh—”

“I-I can’t!” Ginny yelped as she turned a bright shade of scarlet, “I mean— I would have, maybe, no— I’m going with Neville already. He asked Hermione and she said no because she already has a date and then he asked me after, and I didn’t think I’d get to go otherwise.”

“Hermione doesn’t have a date. She just said that to get rid of Neville probably. Besides, why’d you want to go with Neville?” Ron questioned her, “Who’d want to do that?”

Ginny puffed, “Because he asked me! And Hermione really does have a date and she’s not going to bail you out of going alone!”

With that, Ginny stormed away and then through the portrait hole with her head bowed. That left Harry and Ron alone. Harry shrugged at him, “What are we going to do?”

Ron rested on the arm of the chair Harry was seated on. He spoke as quietly as possible as he leaned close to Harry, “I— Pansy Parkinson thinks I’m going to the ball with her.”

“Pansy Parkinson?” Harry announced much louder than he should have.

“Shh!” he smacked Harry in the chest, “You can’t tell anybody! Really Harry, not a soul!”

“So, you asked her to the ball?”

“C’mon,” Ron stated bluntly, wondering why Harry would even ask that, “I didn’t ask her. She pushed it on me.”

“Why didn’t you just tell her no?”

“Because she was crying!”

“She was crying?”

“Yeah, her and Malfoy had a big row or something.”

“So, then she asked you to the ball?”

“No. I asked her.”

“You just said you didn’t ask her.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to. I was going to say something mean again, but she was crying—”

“Because you were being mean to her or still because of Malfoy?”

“I don’t— she was nasty to me first. That doesn’t matter . . . I’m supposed to meet her at the library for, I don’t know, her dress size or something.”

Harry did not say a word, and the boys just stared at each other blankly. As the reality of his situation hit him, Ron frowned and pulled his hair back. “I can’t go to the ball with Pansy Parkinson.”

“Well, at least you’ve got a date,” Harry said dryly.

“A date that I don’t want! A date that nobody except Malfoy would want! What do I do?”

“You said you were supposed to meet her at the library, right?” Harry asked as the two boys exchanged a look. Ron nodded slowly and Harry responded, “So just go and tell her you don’t want to go with her. It’s as easy as that.”

“Fine,” Ron said quickly, “But you’re coming with me!”

At dinner later that night, Ron hardly ate anything. Which to anyone who was paying attention would have been a clear sign that something was truly wrong with him. He feared that if he messed up his words a few more times, he might end up married to Pansy. So, Ron kept repeating the same line in his head through the entire meal.

I am not going to the ball with you.

I am not going to the ball with you.

I am not going to the ball with you.

After dinner, he pulled Harry away and the two made their way towards the library. Harry was walking ahead of him. It was just after seven and the library was up ahead. Harry stopped and pulled Ron to the side, pointing towards the large library doors.

I am not going to the ball with you.

“There she is,” Harry told him quietly, “Go on, Ron.”

She was leaning next to the large doors and nobody else was around. The library at this time was almost always empty— so Ron wanted to act quickly before anyone could stumble across what was about to happen.

I am not going to the ball with you.

He mustered up all the bravery he had. If he was as brave as he thought himself to be, surely this would be an easy task. Pansy noticed him walking over, and it took all of his resolve to hold on to his bravery for dear life. He puffed his chest as he got close and spoke, “I am—"

“Here,” Pansy did not wait a moment before interrupting him, she put a purple fabric square in his hand, “It’s lavender. That’s the color of my dress. Make sure you match it exactly. I was going to with a baby pink but your awful hair—”

“You’re serious about this?” Ron interjected. He honestly could not believe the words she was speaking. Was she really thinking of going to the ball with him?

Pansy put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow, “You were the one who asked me. Remember, Weasley?”

Ron turned red, “I— I didn’t . . . I am not going—”

“What?”

Ron suddenly weighed out his options. Hermione was supposedly going with someone else. Harry’s plan to ask Parvati and get them both a date had failed. Fleur, whatever happened there, would haunt him forever especially if he ended up going alone.

Pansy was a girl, or close enough to it, anyways. That was something. That was better than a third year. Or was it? Maybe it was. Either way, going with someone was better than going alone.

He looked over at her. Her black hair was no longer messy like before. She had pulled some of it back in a bun, and two locks of hair were dangling near the edges of both her cheeks. Her eyes were big, which Ron supposed weren’t too terrible to look at even if her face was scrunched up in anger. Pansy, he surmised, was at least something of a girl.

“Harry needs a date,” Ron told her, “We were helping each other, and I can’t just—”

Pansy stuck her head around Ron and spotted Harry who was very obviously standing at the end of the hall. Harry gave out an awkward wave when he noticed they were both staring. Pansy let out a sigh, “You two seriously don’t go anywhere without each other? That’s pathetic.”

“Do you know anyone he can take ? If not—”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe you are giving me demands to go to the ball with you, Weasley. You should be grateful the options are between you or some drooling third years. Anyways, it’s Potter. Doesn’t he have a whole adoring fan club he can ask?” Ron didn’t say anything and just looked back at Pansy. She sighed again, “Fine. Daphne is waiting for me in the library. She said no to a few guys since she was planning to go home for Christmas. But I’ll get her to say yes to Potter if that means Daphne and I will be around each other at the ball.”

“Who?” Ron asked.

“Daphne Greengrass. She was in our potions last year.”

Ron had no idea who Pansy was talking about, “Never heard of her.”

Pansy waved her hands and gave him a disgusted look, “Hello? Do you seriously not pay attention to anyone outside of Gryffindor?”

Ron shrugged, “Is she, you know . . .”

“What, Weasley? Just say it.”

“C’mon,” he spoke quieter, “If I’m going to set Harry up she should be, at least—”

“Pretty? Fit?”

Ron nodded.

“Listen. Seriously. Walk down the hall and tell Potter to go inside the library and ask Daphne to the ball. If he doesn’t, I swear I’m going curse both of you with—”

“Okay, okay— blimey,” Ron responded.

He dashed back to Harry and got close, speaking quietly, “You know Daphne Greengrass?”

Harry nodded with a confused look on his face, “She was in our potions last year.”

“How do you remember her?” Ron asked.

“We got assigned together for something. She was . . . nice, I guess. Why?”

“How was her face?”

“What?”

“Was she, you know, could you look at her?”

“Pretty? I mean, I don’t know.”

“She’s in the library. Pansy says to go ask her to the Yule Ball.”

“So, you’re going with Pansy, then? Are you serious?”

Ron couldn’t believe what he was about to say, but he shook his head and looked at Harry with a defeated frown, “At this point we are just lucky that there are any girls left. If we wait around ‘til tomorrow it’s only gonna get worse.”

“Hermione’s going to . . .”

Ron let out a croak. Hermione. He had not even considered what Hermione would say about him taking Pansy Parkinson to the ball.

“Too late now,” Harry told him solemnly, “We’ll just have to tell Hermione later and see what happens. I guess I’ll go ask Daphne and that’s that.”

Harry turned, leaving Ron alone as he headed towards the library doors. Ron took a few steps to go after him. He was thinking of something to say to stop things so he could have a moment to think. Maybe taking Pansy was an even more terrible idea than he thought it was. The way she treated Hermione, well, all of them for that matter— had been just as bad as Malfoy and most of the other Slytherins.

But the library doors opened, and Pansy was already talking to Harry. Ron could only make out the last few words of what Pansy was saying to him, “. . . don’t mess it up. She’ll say yes. She’s sitting in the back.”

Harry disappeared inside the library and Ron gulped as Pansy approached. “I talked to Daphne and worked it out. Happy? I’ll make sure that you and Harry get at least one dance together.”

“Funny,” Ron retorted, his mind still reeling from his decision.

Pansy gave him a satisfied smile, “Now what was I saying before you made me find a date for sad, little Harry Potter?”

“The color,” Ron groaned, pulling out the lavender square of fabric.

“Right, don’t mess this up. Even someone as simple as you should be able to match a color. Can you dance?”

Ron looked at her incredulously, “Dance?”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Yes, dance. You know that thing that people do at balls?”

“Not really,” Ron responded honestly.

Pansy groaned, “Can Potter dance?”

Her eyes were locked on his. Her face was scrunching up again. Pansy had a hard time hiding any sort of anger in her expression and Ron could read her very easily. Ron sighed before he spoke. “I don’t think so. I’ve never seen Harry . . . not once . . . dance, or anything.”

“Well, I’m sure Daphne is going to be absolutely thrilled about opening the ball with the whole school looking at her with a partner who doesn’t know how to bloody dance!” Now Pansy was nearly yelling, and Ron suddenly became afraid that she would have her wand out again. He imagined that going to the Yule Ball with a girl couldn’t be as bad as being attacked by the Whomping Willow. But now that he was in the middle of it, Ron would have much preferred to be back inside his family’s flying car surrounded by bludgeoning branches. Pansy’s voice grew louder as she yelled, “That’s not even to mention the fact that it’s already embarrassing enough to be stuck with a Weasley but even worse that you don’t—”

“Fine!” Ron submitted, throwing his hands up in hopes that Pansy would be quiet, “We’ll learn how to dance if you’ll learn how to shut up!” Just then, the door to the library opened. Harry emerged with a short blonde girl— even shorter than Ginny. Her button nose was held in the air, and she was gazing over to Ron and Pansy. “Who’s that?” Ron asked Harry, pointing towards the girl next to him.

Pansy let out a huff, “Do you have any manners at all? This is my friend, Daphne. Who else would it be? Daphne, this is my idiot date, Weasley.”

Daphne, who Ron swore he had never seen in his life before, smiled without showing her teeth. Her lips hardly opened when she spoke, “Hello, Ronald Weasley. Nice to meet you, formally. Harry just asked me to the ball, and I think it will be quite fun.”

Ron didn’t exactly like how snooty she spoke, but he did like the way her lips moved as she talked. Daphne might not have been a veela, but looking at her smile he decided she was close enough to one. He cursed himself, wishing he had pawned Harry off on Pansy and asked Daphne himself.

“Weasley here was just informing me how important it was that he and Harry learn how to dance properly,” Pansy said with a mocking tone.

Harry looked at him with a questioning look, and Ron shook his head dejectedly. Then Daphne made eye contact with Ron— and he, again, really wished he had found a way to switch places with Harry. “The Yule Ball is in less than two weeks, so we can teach you and turn you both into proper dancers,” Daphne said cheerfully.

“That won’t be— uhh—”

“That sounds better than being embarrassed the entire night, doesn’t it?” Pansy interrupted Ron before he could say anything. He had to admit— it was already embarrassing enough to be going to the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson, so being spared any further embarrassment would be welcomed.

“That sounds alright,” Harry said. Ron could tell his friend was a bit too eager to agree while they both stared at Daphne who had not stopped smiling this entire conversation.

“Just don’t mess up the color, Weasley,” Pansy spat as she grabbed Daphne’s arm and pulled her away from the boys. Pansy dragged Daphne down the hall.

“Goodbye Harry Potter, and you too Ronald Weasley!” Daphne smiled as she waved with the arm that wasn’t being held by Pansy.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Harry murmured to Ron once they were alone, “I mean— it could have gone a lot worse, you know?”

“Obviously you think so! You get to go with her!”

“Pansy is . . .”

Harry did not finish his sentence. Probably because trying to find anything nice to say about Pansy was a tall task. Even worse, she was— “A Slytherin!” Ron groaned. He looked at Harry who just shrugged again, and Ron whispered harshly, “We are going to the ball with Slytherins! Everyone is going to think we’ve gone mad!”

“It’s just a ball. One night.”

“C’mon, Harry,” Ron grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him, “You know everyone is going to be taking the mickey out of us for years! Nobody is going to forget this! Hermione is—” Ron caught himself again when thinking of her. Pansy had been mean to Harry and Ron, but she was outright cruel to Hermione. Having to explain to her why he was going with Pansy is something he did not want to even think about in this moment.

“Did they tell us when they’ll be teaching us? I think they left in a hurry.” Ron snapped out of thinking about Hermione and shook his head. “I’ll talk to Daphne then and sort it out,” Harry said.

“Of course you’ll do that,” Ron spat. Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron as they started back to the common room. Ron put on his best Daphne Greengrass impression with a high-pitched squeal, “Goodbye Harry Potter!” Harry just chuckled in response and Ron continued, “Harry Potter asked me to the ball and I’m quite thrilled about it.”

“She’s nice,” Harry said still laughing, “That’s all.”

“Nice to look at for sure,” Ron added, “How is it that I’m the one who did you a favor and you ended up with her and I ended up with Parkinson?” Before they entered the common room, Ron stopped Harry, “Listen, nobody knows yet— you know, who we are going with.” Harry shook his head in response, “Do you reckon Pansy and Daphne will keep quiet? Because I’m not exactly ready to have the entire school knowing.”

“Just wait until Malfoy finds out you stole his date,” Harry said with a chuckle.

Suddenly, the idea of taking Pansy Parkinson had a second silver lining besides not going alone. Ron could imagine Malfoy stomping around like the git he was when he found out. “You are so right,” Ron told Harry with a laugh, “I want to be there when that happens. Hell, I want to be the one to tell him myself!”

The boys agreed to keep their Slytherin dates a secret for now— even though Ron had started to feel immense guilt at keeping it from Hermione. A few days passed and that guilt only grew more. Hermione and Ginny were both becoming increasingly insistent that they find dates, but Ron and Harry were able to somehow keep the secret.

Ron had seen Pansy twice in the halls. She had paid him absolutely no mind and Ron was perfectly content to let her pass by without so much as a look. It wasn’t until lunch in the Great Hall one day that Harry nudged him after Hermione had left for the library. “Tonight, after dinner. Daphne said there’s an empty classroom we can use near Ravenclaw Tower.”

“You talked to . . . when? We’re going?”

Harry nodded, “Yes. We talked. Earlier today. I think after . . . maybe we should tell Hermione. Everyone is going to know eventually.”

Ron dreaded that, but Harry was right. “Tonight, after our . . .”

“Dancing lessons.” Harry finished.

Ron let his head fall towards the table and into his arms with a loud moan. Harry just chuckled. Ron reluctantly followed Harry towards the Ravenclaw Tower. They peered into several classrooms and opened a few more doors. Ron was hoping they wouldn’t find them when suddenly Harry called out to him. His friend slipped into a nearby door. Ron supposed all he could do was follow.

After entering a classroom, Ron shut the door swiftly behind him. Inside, Pansy and Daphne had cleared the tables and desks and left a large open circle in the middle of the room. There was a wireless placed on one of the desks. Harry was already talking to Daphne. Pansy just rolled her eyes at Ron and shook her head.

“We placed quietening charms all around and outside,” Pansy told him, “Nobody is going to hear us.”

Daphne skipped over to the wireless, and soon a cheesy waltz was playing. It was only slightly better than those Celestine Warbeck songs his mother and father would dance to. Ron looked over, and Daphne was already showing Harry the steps. Ron turned a bit red when he noticed where Harry’s hands were. Suddenly it dawned on him that he would have to hold Pansy Parkinson’s waist. He was going to be sick again.

“Weasley!” Pansy grabbed his attention, “I haven’t got all night.”

“Right,” Ron murmured, taking a step closer to her. Pansy had both her hands on her side, her face all scrunched up as usual. She did not seem quite as angry as during their previous conversations and Ron could tell some embarrassment had taken over her as well.

“It’s just a box step. Six movements, I’ll lead you. Just follow for now. We’ll worry about everything else later.” Ron just stood there as Harry and Daphne breezed by again. Pansy was starting to look mostly angry again. “Weasley,” she started.

“I know,” Ron interrupted. The thought of stepping forward and grabbing Pansy’s waist was too much for him. But he had been scared (was he really scared now?) before so he decided just to go for it. With his eyes nearly shut, he stepped towards Pansy and lightly gripped her waist. Just as quickly as he did, her hand rested on his upper arm.

Never in a million years had Ron ever expected to be this close to Pansy. In time with the music, Pansy took the first step. Somehow, Ron was able to follow along running on adrenaline at this point.

Then they took another step, then one more. Pansy didn’t say anything at first. They simply danced together. After one slightly clumsy movement by Ron, they were standing even closer together. Ron’s grip tightened on Pansy’s waist. He held his breath. Heart beating faster. He could feel her skin being pressed in even under her robes.

“When you mess up, nobody but you or I is going to notice. Just get back to where you are supposed to be when we go to the next step,” Pansy instructed him. Her voice, for the first time Ron had ever heard, was not cruel or mean or grating. Just a simple, calm instruction.

And so, on the next step, Ron adjusted. They made eye contact. Her grey eyes watched him. She looked away quickly and then spoke, “Just adjust like that when you mess up. If you are going to mess up, you better avoid stepping on my toes.”

The rest of their dancing lesson was mostly awkward. Ron, despite absolutely wanting to be anywhere else, was getting the hang of the steps. He still had to count in his head and still thought a bit too hard about where to go next— but Pansy was able to effectively lead him, and he made less mistakes as they continued.

They hardly spoke to each other at all. She would offer some advice now and again, or mock him when he missed a step. Harry and Daphne, though, had begun talking about much more than just dancing. They talked about potions last year, then the first task. She then told Harry about a dragon reserve she got to visit because her father was some kind of part-owner. Ron hoped he would never have to talk to Pansy as much as Harry and Daphne were talking to each other.

The closeness he was being forced to endure with Pansy started off awkward and quite terrible, but Ron had quickly gotten used to it. The scent of her perfume, floral and airy, was stuck in his noise. His hand still gripped her waist, and Ron tried his best to not hold her too tightly. He supposed his cheeks matched his hair color the entire time.

After a few songs, Daphne turned the wireless off and gave both Ron and Harry a quick round of applause. Pansy just stared at them blankly.

“I think it would be beneficial to do one more practice session next week before the ball,” Daphne said as she looked at Harry, “I just think it best that you are fully confident before we go up in front of everyone, don’t you think?”

Harry just nodded sappily, and Ron dreaded the thought of having to do this again with Pansy.

Pansy looked at Ron and spoke, “Did you get the color matched correctly? You should have brought it with so I could see.”

Ron suddenly remembered what his actual dress robes looked like. He hadn’t thought about them since his mother gave them to him. They were a lacey abomination, pure rubbish. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then it was Harry who spoke up, “He’s got them. Don’t worry.”

Pansy, for the first time that Ron had ever seen, gave him a simple nod of approval before she left the classroom leaving Harry and Ron alone.

“I don’t got them!” Ron yelled at Harry, “Why would you tell her that? She’s going to curse me, or worse, start yelling again with that voice of hers when she sees what my robes look like!”

“We’ll get Hagrid to get you new ones. He can go to Hogsmeade or something. It shouldn’t be too hard. Or maybe I’ll burn them with a fire-making spell, and then McGonagall will have your mum get new ones.”

Ron hated having to say this, but he spoke quietly, “It’s not like I’ve got the money for that.”

“I’ll get them,” Harry said just as quietly as Ron spoke, “You got me a date, so this is payback, alright?”

He thought for a moment about it. One day, when he had a job of his own and galleons in his pocket, he’d pay Harry back. But for now, there was absolutely no way he was going to turn down a chance to escape having to wear his ghastly dress robes. He just gave a simple, grateful nod to Harry.

When they arrived back at the Gryffindor common room not long after their dancing practice ended, there was a groups of girls, probably second or third years, giggling at them as they entered. Ron wondered if he had something on his robes from dinner— or if Pansy had jinxed him without him realizing it.

But then they ran into Parvati and Lavender. They were giggling as well, but suddenly broke into hissing at them like two, girly snakes.

They knew. Ron’s heart immediately sank he prepared himself for the worst. The whole school would be talking about it by tomorrow morning. Fred and George were going to absolutely have something to say about it. And then there was—

Hermione! Suddenly she was standing in front of Ron and Harry. She must had been waiting for them to return. Her hands were at her sides. They were balled into fists, and she looked halfway between crying and anger.

“Pansy?” was all that Hermione said, loud enough for most of the common room to listen in.

Ron did not say anything. The floor suddenly seemed very interesting at the moment, so that’s where he decided to stare. When he looked up again, after however long he managed to avoid eye contact for, Hermione was halfway up the girl’s dormitory staircase.

There were giggles, fingers being pointed at them, and whispers. Harry looked at him for some kind of response, but Ron had nothing to say.

Just what had he gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

Ron wondered if taking Pansy Parkinson to the Yule Ball would be stupidest thing he had ever done.

There was a good amount of competition for that title. The flying car incident and his back-firing slug-vomiting curse were both in the running. But this may have been worse, since Ron had several chances to back out of his mistake and be spared what was to come— but he did not come to his senses quick enough and now the whole school knew about his massive blunder.

It started in the Gryffindor common room the previous night. Between Hermione storming off and everyone pointing and whispering— it was far too late to get out of his Parkinson situation quietly.

In their dorm room that night, neither Seamus nor Dean said a word to him. Whatever friendship they were building while he wasn’t talking to Harry seemingly vanished. Ron felt like a dunderhead for how he treated Harry during the whole not-talking-to-his-best-mate thing. Neville, on the other hand, just gave him a look filled with pity— and when Neville Longbottom pitied you that must have meant you had done something stupid beyond belief.

Ron wondered how the news had gotten out. Either some Ravenclaw student had seen them go into the same classroom for their dancing practice or Parkinson or Daphne had spilled the secret.

It was Saturday morning now, and both Ron and Harry had slept in late. Ron was stalling to avoid leaving their dormitory, but Harry came over and patted him on the back, “C’mon,” his friend said, “We’re going to miss breakfast.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Fred and George were waiting— naturally ready to question and mock him relentlessly. Ron knew what was going to come next and he very badly just wanted it to be over.

“Oi!” Fred yelled, “Is it true, ickle Ronnie?”

“S’none of your business,” Ron told his brothers bluntly.

“It is, then!” George laughed. His brothers came to his right and left side, and both threw an arm around him. Ron turned red, a shade which he would stay for nearly the rest of the day, as he noticed more and more onlookers watching the scene. “What made you go and ask Prissy Parkinson to the ball? We knew you were thick but—”

“Shut up,” said Ron, scowling at them.

“When I told you that all the good ones would be gone—”

“Shut up!” Ron said louder, looking at Fred this time.

“You and Harry didn’t have to go and ask Slytherins to the ball, but at least Harry had the sense to pick a decent one,” George quickly said, causing Ron to snap his gaze at him instead of Fred.

“I said shut—”

Just then, Hermione passed them by. Ron suddenly fell quiet as did most of the common room who was watching the scene. She did not even look at them. Hermione stared straight forward as she marched from the girl’s dormitory staircase to the portrait hole. Ginny was following along with Hermione, but she turned to join Ron and his brothers.

“Why didn’t you just go and take Hermione?” Fred asked him sincerely once Hermione was fully out of the common room. Ginny had just stopped and was now listening in.

“Hermione?” Ron said incredulously.

“You’ve always been thick,” George said to him, “but we never imagined you were this bad. You had a perfectly good choice right in front of you and she would have gone with you. Must be mad to have the easy way out and choose Parkinson instead, I reckon.”

Ron’s heart sank. Maybe Hermione might have gone with him. It would have been much easier. Hermione was a girl. She was his friend. And Ron, well, he wouldn’t admit this to himself let alone anyone else— but he did maybe fancy her a bit. Not that he could make any sense of that fact. Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask her. Girls, especially Hermione and now Parkinson, made little sense to him.

“So why didn’t you ask Hermione?” Ginny asked coolly. Ron looked at his little sister. Her hands were on her hips, and she wasn’t even acknowledging Harry who was standing right beside her.

“What does it matter to you?” Ron snapped.

Ginny rolled her eyes, “She’s my friend. And last time I checked she’s yours too, though maybe not anymore. Parkinson, Ron, really? You’ve got a whole school to choose from and—”

“It was an accident!” Ron exclaimed. It was the truth, but somehow saying it made Ron feel like an even more monumental git.

“How do you ask someone to the ball on accident?” George said with a chuckle. Ron looked at Harry, the only person who had not said anything in the conversation. Harry gave him a knowing look and remained silent. He wasn’t going to save Ron from this situation.

“It was a joke, I mean,” Ron tried to come up with some kind of believable reason, “You know, get back at Malfoy. Steal his date. Right— that’s it.”

Ginny shook her head and looked ashamed, “You really hate Malfoy more than you like Hermione? I don’t think that’s right.” Then, surprisingly, she looked towards Harry. She pointed at him, “And how could you go along with something so stupid?”

His sister left without saying another word and followed Hermione out of the portrait hole. Harry looked like had just been hit with a stunning spell. Ron knew Ginny was always weird around Harry. He guessed it was all because Ginny fancied Harry. She had gotten a bit better about the whole thing this year and she was at least forming whole sentences around him. But his friend had just gotten the first real look at how touchy Ginny could be.

After his sister left, Fred and George turned from mocking him to just pitying him. “You really messed this up,” one of them said. “Hermione will get over it soon, you are going to have to apologize at some point,” the other added. Somehow, the twins trying to comfort him made the situation seem entirely worse. If Fred and George felt like they had to make him feel better— Ron had truly made a mistake.

The trudge down to the Great Hall for breakfast was excruciating. Between the whispering and pointing, Ron had already had enough for the day even though it was only nine in the morning. Ron thought he understood what it was like to be the focus of rumors and drama. Standing next to Harry had put him in the line of fire many times before, like their second year when most of Hogwarts thought Harry was Slytherin’s Heir.

But when you were the one at the center of the attention, the feeling was completely different. Ron felt anger, embarrassment, shame, and rage all at once. But he couldn’t show any emotion because then people would just laugh and point more. It grew increasingly frustrating as he followed Harry to the Great Hall.

If Ron wasn’t already feeling like the world’s biggest prat for how he treated Harry this year, he was now after as he was experiencing what his friend’s life could be like. It was not a good feeling. Ron determined he would not make the same mistake again when it came to standing by his only friend. Harry truly did feel like his only friend at that moment.

Luckily, the Great Hall was almost cleared out. Ron and Harry found a spot at the Gryffindor table away from everyone else and began to eat silently. Hermione and Ginny were nowhere to be found. Ron had hardly taken a bite when he heard a voice from behind him. “Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley. I was hoping we could speak about scheduling one more dancing lesson.”

Daphne Greengrass, who was drawing far too much attention to them, was standing with her hands behind her back. She was smiling, seemingly unaffected by the stares and the pointing.

Harry, to Ron’s relief, spoke quietly, “Daphne. Hi. Maybe we could— uhh . . . talk somewhere, y’know?”

The girl understood Harry and nodded to them. She still wasn’t looking around at anyone and Ron wondered how the stares and the glances did not get to her. Harry got up to follow Daphne, but Ron shot a look at his friend. “Do we really have to go?” Ron mouthed silently to Harry. His friend looked at him, then at Daphne, then up and down the table to the Gryffindors who were staring shamelessly. Harry just nodded.

Ron groaned as they left their breakfast and followed Daphne out of the Great Hall. There were more curious looks from passing students in the halls, but luckily Daphne moved swiftly. Ron and Harry had to step quickly to keep up. They were in the Clock Tower Courtyard when Daphne finally stopped. There were a few Ravenclaws nearby, but they only stared for a moment before turning away. The courtyard was quite cold with a light blanket of snow, but it was at least there were not many people around which Ron thought was worth shivering for.

“How does tomorrow at seven after dinner in the same classroom sound for our lesson?” Daphne said without missing a beat from their conversation in the Great Hall. “Pansy and I need to finish up a Charms essay during the day but—"

“Parkinson still wants to do this?” Ron interrupted bluntly. There was no way his so-called date wasn’t looking for a way out. Ron, at this point, had nothing else on his mind but trying to formulate ways to escape his situation. He thought maybe screaming at Parkinson that he wasn’t going with her to the ball would do the trick. There had to be plenty of people around to hear but then he could be done with it. He could ask a third year Gryffindor after. He might still make it out of this mess with some small amount of dignity.

“While Pansy does feel she made a mistake—”

“That makes two of us,” Ron butted-in again. Harry looked at him as if to tell him to let Daphne speak, so Ron relented and quieted down.

“I was saying,” Daphne stated a bit harshly, “Pansy feels she made a mistake, but she would rather not leave me alone at the ball since we had all agreed to go as a group. She is a proper friend.”

Ron grunted, “Sure, I bet she is. Well, it doesn’t matter because I’m done with this. I’m going to tell her off and that’s—”

“Ron,” Harry interrupted.

Daphne quickly spoke after that, “Please, don’t make this any worse for her. In fact, another reason I came to speak with you today was because I wanted to ask that you be nice to Pansy, at least until the Yule Ball is over.”

Were Ron’s ears deceiving him?  Was he really being asked to be nice to Pansy Parkinson? George’s nickname for the girl was spot on. Prissy Parkinson had only ever treated Ron, Harry, and Hermione terribly. Telling her off and dumping her was the right thing to do.

Ron was turning red with anger just thinking about the situation, and Daphne obviously caught on. “Please, Ronald. Pansy thought that going with you would get back at Malfoy. But now that he’s found a date, she is feeling—”

“Malfoy found a date?” Ron asked inquisitively.

“He asked my sister,” Daphne said quietly, “I thought everyone knew.”

“Your sister?” Ron asked again. If he had known Daphne had a sister, he would have told Pansy to sod off yesterday and would have found a way to ask whoever Daphne’s sister was. But here he was again, losing out on every opportunity to get out of this situation.

“My sister is Astoria. She’s two years younger than us but she’s quite pretty. I’m very glad that my sister will be attending the ball, but Pansy is my friend as well— and she is quite hurt at the moment. So please, Ronald, all I am asking for is a week’s worth of kindness. After the Yule Ball I’m sure things will return to normal.”

Ron did not want to think about the situation any longer, but there was something he needed to know. “Did one of you let it go that we were going to the ball together?”

Daphne looked away, “I may have told some close friends about how Harry Potter asked me to the Yule Ball, yes.”

“And did that story you told happen to include that me and Parkinson were going together?” Ron fumed.

“I’m afraid so,” Daphne said so quietly that Ron could hardly hear.

He thought Daphne was too good to be true— but now he had found the trait that made her a Slytherin indeed. Daphne Greengrass was a gossip. Surely he was overreacting, but at the time he needed to place his anger somewhere.

“Everyone was going to find out anyways,” Harry said, in a tone Ron thought was far too kind, “We’re both going to show up to the ball with them so everyone would have seen us together then. Not like we could hide it forever. Not that I want to . . . y’know, hide it—”

Ron looked at his friend. Harry, much to Ron’s chagrin, seemed quite thrilled to be going to the ball with Daphne Greengrass. Obviously she was pretty, but she was also helping Harry learn to dance so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in from of the entire school.

Between how Ron had acted earlier in the year and Harry offering to help Ron pay for better dress robes— Ron owed Harry, even beyond him finding Harry a date in the first place. He owed him enough that Ron felt compelled to make Daphne happy. And to do that there would be no screaming at Parkinson and telling her he’d rather go to the Yule Ball with a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

Ron nodded solemnly at Harry, and his friend seemed to instantly understand that what he was about to do was for the sake of their friendship. “Right. Sorry, it’s fine. Harry’s right. Everyone would have found out anyways,” he said dully, looking at Daphne. He sucked his breath in. He had to force the next words to come out, “I s’pose I’ll try. Being nice to Parkinson— for the week. I can try that.”

The girl clapped her hands together, “Marvelous! Thank you,” she smiled at Ron, seemingly no longer affected by his passing anger, “She did want me to ask once more about the color of your robes. Were you able to take care of that?”

“We were going to go down to Hagrid’s today to ask him to go to Hogsmede to get what Ron needs. You know, match the color, and maybe get him . . . new robes entirely,” Harry explained while trying to rush through the last part.

“Indeed,” Daphne raised her eyebrows suspiciously, “Have you gotten your measurements taken?”

Ron looked at Harry. The boys exchanged confused looks. When Ron looked back at Daphne she had her wand out and was stepping forward towards him. “Since you will not be there in-person to get fitted, allow me perform a measurement-finding charm.”

Daphne squatted down and picked up two small rocks from beneath the thin layer of snow. With a quick flick of her wand, the rocks turned into a piece of parchment and quill. Then, Daphne pointed her wand at the newly transfigured quill and parchment. “Camisium Scriberum!”

The quill and parchment were now floating between Daphne and Ron. With a final flick of her wand, the quill shot forward and started taking measurements of Ron’s waist and chest.

“Stand still, if you would,” Daphne politely commanded, “The spell works much better if you resist moving too much.”

Ron held his breath. He never remembered his mother using this sort of spell, but then again Ron wore mostly hand-me-downs. Once the quill had taken a few measurements, it flew back over to the parchment and began to write down what it had learned. After that, it resumed, this time measuring Ron’s arms.

“Brilliant,” Harry seemed genuinely enamored watching the quill glide through the air and take Ron’s measurements, “How’d you learn that?”

“My mother taught me,” Daphne said to Harry, “She was always very—”

“Alright, blimey,” Ron interrupted. The way Daphne spoke to Harry truly made Ron a bit queasy and he did not want to hear about how Daphne’s mum taught her how to make a quill take notes for her. The thought of having to show up to the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson would keep Ron in a bad mood this entire week— especially since he had just agreed to be nice to her. The last thing we wanted to hear was Harry and Daphne gushing over each other.

“Oh! That’s right, Harry,” Daphne clapped her hands together again as she giggled. The quill had moved onto Ron’s legs now. “I put some thought into your mysterious shrieking egg.”

“You told her about that?” Ron asked while scrunching his face. That queasy feeling once again took hold.

“Figured it was worth a try,” Harry responded, then looking back to Daphne.

The girl smiled and held her hands together, “Well, you said it sounded like a banshee. To me, if something sounds like a banshee then it is at least very likely not human. If it’s not human then Hagrid might be able to help you figure out what kind of creature a screaming noise like that could come from.”

“That makes sense. But he’s a professor and he’s already helped me out with the last task,” Harry stopped to think for a moment before he spoke again, “I don’t want to get him in trouble for helping me.”

“It’s simple then,” Daphne rolled up the parchment paper with Ron’s measurements and smiled, “Don’t let anyone catch you when you ask him.”

Later that day, the boys stopped by to see Hagrid. Harry had collected all the Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts he had on him. Ron felt guilty and ashamed— but he truly did need Harry’s help.

Hagrid did not need any convincing to help get Ron new dress robes, but Ron and Harry both offered to help with taking his Blast-Ended Skrewts for walks on the weekends. Hagrid welcomed the help, and Ron immediately cringed at having to do that again.

Hagrid also needed no convincing to help Harry with the egg. Ron covered his ears preemptively when the egg shirked loudly. Fang darted under the table and did not come out for the rest of their time there. When Harry finally closed it, Hagrid looked like he was thinking.

“Don’ think it’s a banshee,” he crossed his massive arms as he spoke, “Could be Mermish. I’ve heard ‘em screech like that before ‘n that sounds pretty close to me.”

The two boys thanked Hagrid and headed back to the Gryffindor common room. On their way there they brainstormed ideas for what the second task could be based on what Hagrid told them. Ron thought Harry would be fighting Merpeople, and tried to console Harry that it did not seem as bad a Hungarian Horntail. Harry seemed only minorly relived.

Once back in the common room, Ron spotted Hermione sitting alone with her nose in a book. Ron nodded at Harry and went towards the girl alone. She looked up before Ron could get too close, so he decided it was best to just try and say anything at all.

“Hermione—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted him before he could get another word out, “Don’t say anything. I’m not ever going to be in mood to hear it.”

Ron had never heard Hermione so upset. Even when they were fighting last year about Crookshanks and the rat he thought was Scabbers, they were still friends during it. This seemed different. “Please, Hermione,” he practically begged, “Look, I’m sorry. Just say something, I just want—”

She shut her book loudly enough for most of the common room to turn to see what the commotion was, “I have nothing to say to you.”

With that, Hermione stomped away. Between what happened with Harry earlier in the year and now how he had hurt Hermione, Ron could not help but think Fred and George were right and that he was truly one of the thickest people around. Ron felt like he was perceptive enough to see these situations coming but couldn’t help be always fall into them regardless. Maybe growing up was about finding ways not to always be an idiot.

When he returned back to Harry again, his friend picked up on Ron’s failure quickly, “Didn’t go so well with Hermione, then?”

“Tried to apologize,” Ron said quietly, “She wasn’t having any of it. It was just a mistake after all. I swear she always sees the worst in me.”

“Kinda like how you thought I put my name in for the tournament?”

Ron cringed. Harry did not often come right out and say it, but it was a fair point to make. “Right,” he admitted, “I guess so.”

“How long did it take you to come around?”

“Too long,” he answered confidently.

Harry nodded and smiled, “Keep trying and she’ll get there.” Ron wasn’t very comforted by his words, only because he was not sure if he believed them. He had never seen Hermione this angry with him. He hoped that she would come around— because while Ron would not admit this to anyone, he did miss her terribly.

The next day was filled with more of the same. Rumors, finger pointing, and snide remarks. He had gotten used to it a bit but was also expecting it to die down by now. But with Christmas Day approaching quickly, it seemed like more and more people had joined in on the mocking as that date grew closer.

After dinner that night, Harry dutifully reminded Ron that it was time for their dancing lesson. Ron supposed he would be right giddy as well if his date was sweet like Daphne Greengrass. “Oh, Ronald,” her quiet voice would have said to him. His date with shrieking Parkinson was a far cry from gentle Daphne. Pansy’s screeching made Harry’s screaming golden egg sound as sweet as Daphne Greengrass in comparison.

Ron followed Harry again towards Ravenclaw Tower. Unfortunately for them, when they turned down a particular hallway Malfoy and his usual gang of Slytherins were walking towards them from the other way.

“C’mon,” Harry said confidently, “Don’t let them mess with you.”

Ron had not seen Draco since the news broke. He was the one person Ron wanted to find out, if only to see his reaction. But learning that Draco had found a date, a pretty one at that, completely ruined any satisfaction Ron would get from the situation— even if his date was a second year. Neither group wavered from walking forwards, and they met after a few tense moments.

“What’s wrong, Weasley?” Malfoy spat first before Harry or Ron could speak, “Embarrassed you were caught picking through my trash? Nothing to be embarrassed about— your family does it all the time, I’m sure.”

Ron wasted no time firing back, “Had to go with a second year, huh, Malfoy? Your date got stolen away and you couldn’t find a third year to fool. Had to ask someone with no other options, then?”

Malfoy had his wand in his grip and stepped closer. Ron had his at the ready as well. They were walking towards each other when Malfoy spoke again, “She was always annoying. Now I know it’s because she likes to dirty herself with blood traitors and Mud—”

“McGonagall!” someone nearby yelled.

The attention of all the boys was immediately drawn to Professor McGonagall, who had joined a group of seventh year students to chat at the end of the long hallway. She had not yet noticed what was happening between Malfoy and Ron.

Suddenly Malfoy shoved Ron hard with his shoulder as he, Crabbe, and Goyle passed by them, “Have fun with my trash, Weasley,” Malfoy said harshly as he left.

After they left, Harry put his away his wand, and Ron followed suit after. “He’s a git,” Ron mumbled to himself, “I hate him, I bloody hate him.”

“C’mon,” Harry said consolingly, “He’s not worth it. We’re already late.”

When they finally made it to the empty classroom near Ravenclaw Tower, Pansy was waiting for them with her arms crossed. “You’re late,” she scolded them.

“We ran into Malf—”

“My fault,” Harry interjected quickly, “I uhh . . . had to finish something.”

“That is quite alright,” Daphne immediately said as she popped out from behind Pansy. Then she moved towards the wireless. “Now do not tell anyone but I’ve managed to ascertain what song they will be using for the opening dance— the one we will be leading, Harry.”

She waved her wand and in a quick moment the dreamy opening waltz filled the air. Harry and Daphne were off to spinning and chatting like last time.

The awkward pause between Ron and Pansy lasted much less longer than during the previous lesson, and Ron did not have to be told that dancing required two people to stand very close to one another. Soon enough, the pair were painfully near again and their feet moved in sync. His hand still felt like it was burning as it rested on her waist.

“So, you ran into Malfoy,” Pansy stated, breaking the silence between them.

“No, who told you that?”

“C’mon, you were about to say that when Potter stopped you. Did you end up with slugs in your mouth again? Or did you finally get revenge for that? Not sure which one of you I’d want to see with a mouth full of slugs more right now.”

“Hilarious,” Ron said through his teeth, “What’d he do to make you hate his guts anyways?”

“That’s none of your business,” Pansy coldly retorted.

“Well, by the way he was talking it sounds like he hates you as much as us Gryffindors.”

“Draco doesn’t hate you because your Gryffindors.”

“Sure, he also hates me because I’m a Weasley. But Harry, what reason has he got to hate him besides that Harry’s a Gryffindor?” He felt a knot in his throat after speaking. Their parents were on opposite sides of a war, and Ron wondered if Pansy was about to dive into that uncomfortable topic.

“Do you remember first year on the train? Draco tried to shake Harry’s hand.”

Ron vaguely recalled the incident. He wondered how Pansy even knew about that. “A handshake? Malfoy hates Harry ‘cause he wouldn’t shake his hand?”

“Do you need everything spelled out for you, Weasley? Draco hates Potter because he’s the only student with a last name more famous than his. Obviously he envies Potter. But I also think he envies you. He doesn’t hate you just because you’re a Weasley, but because Harry picked you over him— in his mind, you got the second-best thing to being the most famous student at Hogwarts and he was denied that. That’s why the handshake mattered.”

What Pansy said made absolutely no sense in Ron’s mind. He tried to think back to what happened exactly between Harry and Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express their first year— but it was so long-ago Ron had nearly forgotten the conversation entirely. He was still processing Pansy’s explanation of Draco. Could Draco really be jealous of him? It was silent between the two as they danced.

Harry and Daphne’s conversation pulled him away from his thoughts. They were talking about how Harry felt about being entered in Triwizard Tournament against his will, and it was just a little too sincere that Ron couldn’t help feel that queasiness again.

“We should talk,” Pansy broke the silence between them, “I mean, while we dance. It’s good practice. If you can talk and dance at the same time, that means you’ve got it down.”

“Who told you that?” Ron said sarcastically.

“My mother,” Pansy snapped, “Unlike you I was raised with culture.”

“Sound boring,” Ron snorted.

“Well, I suppose most of it was,” Pansy said dryly. He was caught off guard that Pansy just said something self-deprecating.

Daphne stopped by the wireless briefly and swished her wand. The same song repeated, and Ron wondered how many more times he was going to have to hear the same song over again.

Pansy’s grip on Ron’s arm loosened as they danced in silence again. Ron suddenly remembered the promise he made to Daphne. He let out a sigh, and for the sake of Harry he continued their conversation, “Your mum,” Ron tried his hardest to speak cordially, “She made you talk and dance at the same time, then? Why’d she teach you that?”

Pansy, for once, did not respond with an insult, “The conversation is a distraction. If you can manage the distraction while not missing any steps, it means the dance is truly ingrained into you. There are going to be distractions at the ball, people wanting to talk while we dance, so it’s good practice.”

“Right,” Ron nodded, “That actually makes sense.”

“Yes, well I’m glad even uncultured swine such as yourself can understand the intricacies of teaching one how to dance.”

How was he supposed to be nice when she kept prodding him like that? Ron let out a puff, “It’s not that hard at all. I didn’t even need lessons, really.”

“As your teacher, you very much did. If you don’t like my methods then run back to Granger,” Pansy sounded truly bitter, “She spends all day teaching you how to tell your head from your ass so this is just one more thing she can—”

“Don’t talk about Hermione,” Ron stated firmly. Pansy just stared at him, her grey eyes not giving anything away. But her face was scrunched up— Pansy couldn’t hide her anger from him at all. He remembered he had to be nice, but he also needed to stand up for Hermione. “Listen, for this week and the night of the ball— don’t talk about Hermione. Alright?”

“Whatever,” Pansy responded. Ron imagined that was as much of an agreement as they were going to get between each other.

The next week passed by slowly and painfully. The stares and the rumors only got worse. He heard some Hufflepuffs saying that Pansy had Ron under the Imperious Curse. The Ravenclaws believed Ron had used a love-potion to steal Pansy away from Draco. The rumors weren’t any nicer to Pansy than they were to Ron, and he almost felt a tinge of guilt and anger when he heard people speaking about her like that.

Christmas Day was rather uneventful. The Yule Ball, which was that night, hung over Ron’s head and he hoped that the moon would just stay put for once and spare him.

But the moon did rise, and night came.

Ron was a nervous mess. His dress robes, at least, fit surprisingly well. They had stopped to see Hagrid and the robes were waiting there for him. The robes must have had some kind of charm built into them because while they looked quite uncomfortable— Ron felt like he was wearing simple school robes with plenty of mobility. Even still, he was feeling quite self-conscious. His bowtie and vest were lavender, which he was just thankful that they were more purple than pink. It was leagues better than what his mother had given him. He had Harry to thank for that.

After making themselves as presentable as two teenage boys could, Harry and Ron went to leave through the portrait hole together— but not before one final round of pointing and giggling from the Gryffindor common room. Fred and George intercepted them and said their farewells far too loudly.

“Give a kiss to Prissy Parkinson for us, Ronnie!”

“Hope she doesn’t bite!”

After going through the portrait hole, they walked to their meeting place at the Clock Tower Courtyard. The four had decided meeting in front of either of their common rooms would add more unnecessary suffering to their situation. Harry and Ron waited under a covered hallway to avoid the gently falling snow of Christmas.

Ron could tell Harry was nervous, he was pacing and could only mumble a few words when he spoke. “We look alright,” Harry stated, but it sounded much more like a question than a fact.

“Sure, mate,” Ron tried to reassure him, “We look alright.”

Ron was feeling sick. He was about to go to the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson. The whole school was about to see him with her, and his head was rightfully spinning. He imagined the laughing and the stares and the pointing—

Attending the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson was going to require no small amount of bravery on his part.

Just at the peak of his worrying, the sound of clicking heels against stone echoed from down the hall. When Ron finally looked over, his stomach twisted in knots.

Pansy’s dress matched his lavender bowtie and vest perfectly. Her dress exposed her bare shoulders, and her black hair was curled just slightly enough so that when it bounced as she walked it just barely touched the skin of her shoulders.

The top half of her dress clung to her tightly— and Ron was confronted with the fact that she was very much a girl. Then the thought of holding her waist with only that little sliver of fabric between their skin creeped into his mind and it made Ron woozy. The bottom part of her dress waved outward with elegant ruffles, but Ron hardly noticed that.

Ron stared for far longer than he expected to. He kept imaging how he was going to place his hand on her waist. He stared at her bare shoulders. Then there were her black curls, her piercing grey eyes, and the scent of her airy perfume—

In a moment of clarity, Ron convinced himself that Prissy Parkinson looked absolutely terrible.

Didn’t she?

Chapter Text

“What’s wrong, Weasley, never seen a girl before?”

Ron’s very obvious staring had not gone unnoticed by Pansy— an embarrassing start to a night that he thought was only going to get worse. Before he could think of something to say, Pansy raised a finger and pointed to his chest.

Ron, still in a bit of a trance, flinched at Pansy’s movement. She pulled her hand back reactively and the two stared directly at each other.

“I was just going to say you somehow managed to get the right shade of lavender,” she said in a mocking tone. He looked down at his vest and tie.

“Ronald had a bit of help, or so I’m told.”

Ron’s eyes darted to Daphne, who he had failed to notice up until the moment she spoke. It wasn’t because he was staring at Pansy— he tried to think of a reason, but he was coming up blank.

Daphne, who Ron now noticed, had her long, blonde hair curled much more dramatically than Pansy’s. Her seafoam green dress was coated with more sparkles than he thought any piece of clothing should have.

“It was mostly Ron. I didn’t do much at all,” Harry mumbled in response. Ron could tell his friend was trying his hardest to say anything at all to the two girls. He also appreciated Harry’s effort to make him look better, but he knew it would be for nothing.

Pansy put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes, “Weasley and Potter mustering all their intelligence together to not mess up matching a color. High marks.”

Somehow, Pansy insulting them like usual eased the tension in the group. Ron never thought he would be in a situation in which Pansy berating him would make him feel better— but there he was.

“You look . . . nice,” Harry told Daphne. Ron winced at the crack in his friend’s voice.

The girl responded by taking Harry’s arm and tugging him gently to begin walking. Daphne complimented Harry back (several times, all of which made Ron cringe) and the group started to make their way to the Great Hall. After a few more compliments, Daphne turned her head back to Ron and Pansy. “Doesn’t Pansy look quite stunning as well, Ronald?” she said in a gentle tone.

Daphne turned back to Harry before Ron could say anything. The discomfort between him and Pansy only grew worse. Ron, for his part, remembered the promise he made to treat his date nicely. It took all of his strength to conjure up the words and he attempted to compliment her, “Good . . . err . . . dress.”

“What, this dress is good? Are you a fashion expert, then?” Pansy snapped.

“Are you an expert at being bloody annoying?” Ron responded. He was getting better at matching her fast derisions of him.

“I am,” Pansy held her nose up sarcastically, “It gladdens me to be recognized by such a prestigious annoyer such as yourself.”

It was a joke. Pansy made a joke.

Ever since Pansy had called him out for staring at her, he focused on looking anywhere else. He wasn’t staring because she was pretty, mind you. In fact, it took all of that makeup and a dress and her slightly curly hair which bobbed gently when she walked for him to realize she was actually a girl— so it must have been him staring in disbelief. Ron convinced himself of that over and over in his head.

Without thinking, he stared at her lips for a few moments. It almost looked like they were slightly curled up in a smile from her own joke. He quickly darted his eyes away when she looked towards him again. He could have sworn it was a smile, but she was back to her usual, prissy look.

Unfortunately for him, they were beginning to get closer to the Great Hall and more students began filling the halls around them. Girls wore dresses and robes of all shades. Boys mostly wore black dress robes like Ron had on. He felt grateful to at least be spared the embarrassment of having to wear what his mother had tried to curse him with.

Pansy took a step towards him as it got tighter to move down the corridors. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws gave them prying looks. A few sixth year Gryffindors pointed them out as they walked. Ron tried his best to ignore it.

When they finally reached the Great Hall doors, Ron sorely wanted the night to be over. He would have much preferred standing in the Clock Tower Courtyard in the cold. He stopped his mind from racing and focused on the task at hand. There was no turning back from going to the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson now.

It was going to be a long night.

McGonagall was standing at the entrance to the Great Hall. There were students pouring in around her as the doors opened. Most everyone had dates, but Ron spotted Crabbe and Goyle who must have been following Malfoy. Neither of them had dates. Ron grinned to himself at the sight. He wondered before if going alone would have been preferable to going with Pansy, but now he had his answer. Parkinson was better than going alone.

Daphne had pulled Pansy aside and they were talking too quietly for Ron to hear. McGonagall was waving Harry down. Ron supposed Harry and Daphne would be off in a moment.

“You alright, mate?” Ron had to speak a bit loudly so they could hear each other as a wave of excited students were headed inside.

Harry had gotten himself together, “Yeah. Alright. See you in a minute?”

Ron nodded and tried to look as confident in his friend as possible, “You beat a dragon. I reckon one dance shouldn’t be too hard.”

Harry gave him a crooked grin before Daphne was at his side and the two followed McGonagall. Ron turned back towards Pansy, realizing that he would be alone with her for a good part of the night. Ron sighed as the crowds passed. He could feel Pansy waiting impatiently next to him.

“S’pose we should go in,” he mumbled as the cheerful conversations around him drowned out his voice.

“What?” Pansy leaned closer, which only made Ron more uncomfortable.

“I suppose we should go in,” he said loud enough for Pansy to hear him. They awkwardly joined the crowd and walked side by side.

When they made it inside, Ron saw the walls of the Hall were covered in shining frost. Bushels of mistletoe and ivy were patterned across the starlight ceiling. There were no House tables like he was used to, but over a hundred smaller, round tables that could only seat a few students.

And now Ron had the task of choosing one.

Where were they supposed to go? There was no way he could bring Pansy to a table with Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and the other Gryffindors. But then there was also no chance he could stand sitting with the likes of Malfoy and the Slytherins. Harry and Daphne would be at the Champion’s table, which was a fact Ron wished he would have considered before this moment.

Detention with Snape was better than this.

Most tables were beginning to fill with students, and more than a few were staring their way. Pansy stood in silence next to him. It felt like his frantic search for a table would never end when he spotted Neville and Ginny alone at a table tucked away in the back. Never was he so glad to see Neville Longbottom in his life.

“C’mon,” he looked at Pansy and nodded towards the back. He did not wait for Pansy’s annoyed look or protest. The pair uncomfortably moved between chairs and tables.

As they were walking, he swore a table of older Slytherins said something to Pansy. The boys at the table were laughing but when Ron stopped to look back at Pansy, she bumped into him. The table laughed harder as Pansy pushed past him and now Ron was following her. There was nothing to be done about it, so he kept moving.

“Over there,” he pointed out. Pansy quickly took a seat, leaving a few empty chairs between her and Ginny and Neville.

“Hey, Ron,” Neville said nervously as he eyed them, “And err . . .”

Ginny did not even acknowledge Ron or Pansy. Maybe that was for the best, he thought. Pansy just rolled her eyes before facing towards the dance floor. Ron sat next to her and cautiously spoke, “What did those Slytherins say to you?”

“It’s not important,” she snapped, not even sparing him a glance.

Ron was just happy to have found a table where he and Pansy would not be noticed by most. There was a table of Hufflepuffs and another with seventh year Gryffindors blocking them in, and neither of them paid Ron or Pansy any mind.

After a dull time sitting without a word spoken at their table, applause broke out. Everyone was standing and moving towards the dance floor. Pansy was off in an instant. Ron followed her as best he could. He was supposed to do that, right? They did come to the Yule Ball together— and that’s what someone who was being nice, as he had promised, would do.

Ron and Pansy were pushed together with a mass of other students. He ended up pressed clumsy against her. He tried to play it cool, but between her bare shoulder pressed into his chest and the scent of her perfume— he wasn’t sure if playing it cool was possible.

Just then, he spotted Fleur and Roger Davies leading the group of Tri-Wizard Champions and their dates towards the dance floor. He briefly re-lived his Fleur-related embarrassment before he saw who was next. It was Viktor Krum and a girl he swore he recognized.

“Is that Granger?” Pansy said in full astonishment. Ron’s heart sank at the realization that Viktor Krum’s date was indeed Hermione. She had done something with her hair and was wearing periwinkle-blue robes which flowed elegantly behind her as she walked.

Ron had instant regret upon seeing Hermione with Viktor.

Before he could think too much of it, Cho and Cedric were next, finally followed by Harry and Daphne. The four couples had spread out evenly on the dance floor. Ron did not know whether to watch Harry or Hermione. A familiar waltz began to play as the Yule Ball officially began.

Harry was doing well! Ron could tell his friend was trying his hardest not to mess up. Their dance lessons paid off. Harry and Daphne moved perfectly together as the waltz carried on. “Look at her,” Pansy said to Ron, or maybe just to herself, “Daphne’s spot on. She’s even making Potter look good— always the perfectionist.”

He couldn’t help himself and glanced towards Hermione. Viktor held her waist tightly as they spun. Ron thought he was going to be sick.

He focused back on Harry to attempt to forget what he saw. Just as he did— it happened. Cho and Cedric had moved slightly too close to Daphne and Harry as they danced. When Daphne stepped back, her heel caught itself on Cho’s dress.

With the entire school watching, Daphne Greengrass slipped on Cho’s dress and fell forward into Harry’s arms. Harry acted swiftly. He swung Daphne up before her knees could get too close to the ground and the couple stumbled back into dancing after a few wobbly steps.

Though Daphne and Harry never completely fell— the damage was done. The laughing and pointing had broken out around Ron. He began to boil with anger. It wasn’t even Daphne’s fault! It was too-good-for-Harry-Potter Cho Chang who had caused Daphne to trip.

“We need to get up there,” Pansy leaned into Ron hard, “She needs me.”

Suddenly Dumbledore raised McGonagall’s hand in the air and the laughs were overtaken by applause as the they joined the champions on the dance floor followed by a dozen other couples. Pansy looked back at him, and her words were sharp, “I’m serious. Let’s go.”

Without time to put up an argument, Ron followed closely behind her as Pansy pushed through a crowd of unsuspecting Ravenclaws. They were just at the edge of the dance floor when Pansy turned back to face him. Ron knew the steps. He could do this. So why weren’t his feet moving? Why wasn’t he grabbing her waist?

“Ron!” she pulled on his upper arm roughly. This was the time to be brave. Anyone looking on be damned, he would not cause further embarrassment as he could tell people in the crowd were beginning to stare.

Ron confidently grabbed Pansy’s waist and they stepped out onto the dance floor together. He knew the steps, but Pansy was pulling him towards the middle of the dance floor which made it harder. First they passed by his sister and Neville. Ginny winced as Neville stepped on her toes. Ron was careful not to do the same to Pansy.

Next they passed Malfoy with Daphne’s sister and a few Slytherins. Pansy lengthened their strides to move past them as quickly as possible.

Finally, they were near the center of the dance floor. Luckily for him they breezed past Hermione and Viktor without them noticing. Pansy and Ron floated perfectly next to Daphne and Harry.

“Well done, both of you,” Pansy told them during a step when they were all close together. Pansy being nice made him feel dizzy. Even still, it did not matter. Harry looked rightfully pale, and Daphne did not smile at the compliment.

Just as they had gotten to their spot next to Harry and Daphne, the waltz came to an end with another round of applause. Students and professors began making their way back to their seats.

Ron suddenly felt Pansy pull away from him. He watched as she pushed between Cho and Cedric to leave the dance floor. Harry was soon standing next to Ron. It almost sounded like he was out of breath, “Daphne. I don’t know— I think she just left.”

“Left?” Ron grimaced. Daphne must have moved so quickly that he did not notice.

“She did good. Cho got too close and— it wasn’t Daphne’s fault. We were doing good. I don’t know. She said sorry and then just ran off.”

“I think Parkinson followed her,” Ron responded as he looked towards the Great Hall doors. Just then, Hermione and Viktor Krum appeared in front of them. She was saying something to Ron and Harry but there was too much happening at once. Ron took a deep breath and thought to himself. What did he need to do?

He wanted to talk to Hermione, to either apologize or yell. Maybe both. Maybe neither. But Ron still owed Harry. For the suit, for forgiving him. He knew that. Then Ron knew how he was going to repay him.

“Hermione,” Ron looked at her and nodded, trying his best not to rage with jealousy at Viktor. He then turned back to his other friend, “Harry, stay here. I’ll go get Daphne.”

He did not have time to explain. He bolted off and pushed through a crowd of students. One of them must have been Malfoy since he heard his far-too-familiar whinging. Ron did not stop, not even to hex Malfoy. Nothing was going to hold him back as he darted out of the Great Hall.

He scanned up and down the corridors and analyzed the situation. Which way was the Slytherin Common Room? He mapped out the path in his head before taking off to his right. He came to another split and went left.

Before he could go further, he found Pansy standing over Daphne, who was seated on a stone bench. A few fairies floated above them near bundles of hanging garland. Compared to the Great Hall, it was almost silent. Only a few sobs could be heard coming from Daphne, which sounded as soft as dripping water.

He had no time to think about how he usually stumbled through his words at the sight of a crying girl— quite like the situation with Pansy that got him into this mess in the first place. Instead, Ron tried just speaking.

“Harry said you did perfectly.”

Pansy and Daphne both turned to him with surprised looks. Daphne had a handkerchief to her cheek and Pansy’s face was scrunched up which meant she was angry. “Weasley, what are you doing here?” Pansy asked bitterly.

He gulped hard, “That’s what Harry said. He told me you did perfectly, Daphne. He was going to come tell you himself but—”

Daphne stood after wiping her cheek again. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. She spoke quietly, “He really said that?”

“I was surprised to hear it. Harry normally doesn’t say stuff like that,” Ron’s voice cracked. His throat was dry.

Harry had said she did good, but stretching the truth to help a friend and make a crying girl feel better was okay, he hoped. “Just don’t tell him I told you that. Besides, everyone knows it was Cho’s fault.”

Pansy remained silent with her hands on her hips. Her face was un-scrunched. Ron avoided her gaze by keeping focused on Daphne. “Everyone laughed,” she stated harshly.

Ron chuckled, “He’s used to that. Blimey, it happens all the time. C’mon, those ‘Potter Stinks’ badges?”

“I made it worse,” Daphne said dejectedly.

“Nah. It was Cho’s fault. Not yours. You taught him to dance. It would take a perfect teacher to get him to dance like that.”

The crying girl started to compose herself. After fixing her dress one final time, Daphne Greengrass straightened her back. “It was wrong of me to leave him alone. He’s a Tri-Wizard Champion and I am his date. I shall go find him now. Thank you, Ronald.”

She touched his arm and gave him a weak smile before she rushed off. His cheeks were burning. He tried his hardest to fight against it. Girls, he surmised. Ron and Pansy did not move for a moment.

“She was inconsolable,” Pansy told him, “How’d you—”

“You said she was a perfectionist.”

Pansy gave him a genuine look of shock. Ron, for the first time in a long while, was quite proud of himself. Then Pansy’s brows furrowed, “Harry really said that about her? Called her perfect?”

She was far too deductive. Or nosy— which is the way Ron preferred to think of her as she was, after all, a Slytherin. Ron sighed and tried to change subject, “We should get back.”

Pansy did not move, “No. I want to know. Did Harry call Daphne perfect or did you just lie to make her feel better?”

Ron threw up his hands, “What does it matter? He obviously wanted Daphne back with him and it wasn’t either of their faults that they fell— so let’s just go back in there and have a terrible time together.”

He started to walk away when he realized Pansy wasn’t following. He turned to her and she crossed her arms, “Thanks, I guess.”

Pansy ran a hand through her hair, tucking a curly strand behind her ear. Her eyes reflected the fairy-light from above them. When her face was un-scrunched it didn’t look so— he was staring again. He stopped the thought immediately. This time Ron composed himself and turned away while mumbling, “Yeah, c’mon.”

It was not until they were nearly back in the Great Hall that he realized Pansy had thanked him. It was probably the most civil interaction he had ever had with her.

Pansy entered the Great Hall first, slipping between the large doors that were propped open enough for one person to pass. Ron followed, only to see that nearly everyone was seated. Pansy was already walking quickly to their table far in the back of the Hall.

Their re-entrance had not gone unnoticed. Several tables watched them as they maneuvered the tiny walkways between chairs. Ron was a few strides behind Pansy. He looked towards the front, seeing that Daphne had joined Harry at the Champion’s table.

When he looked back to Pansy, one of the older Slytherin boys who had laughed at them earlier had stood up and stopped her. Ron saw him say something but wasn’t close enough to hear. He marched forward until he was beside them. The boy was older, maybe a sixth or seventh year. He was not much taller than Ron.

“What do you want, then?” Ron blurted out.

Pansy attempted to move around him, but the older boy stepped in front of her again.

“I was just telling Ms. Parkinson that she should be careful while doing charity work. It’s dirty business, or so I’m told,” he said sarcastically.

Ron wanted to reach for his wand, but he honestly hadn’t remembered which pocket in his very complicated dress robes he had stored it in. Before he could remember it was on the inside of his vest, Pansy was already standing on her tip toes and staring up at the boy.

“Out – of – the – way.”

Pansy’s threat to her fellow Slytherin scared Ron.

The older boy laughed nervously this time. The others at his table looked away while holding in laughter. He stepped out of the way a moment later. Pansy stomped away fiercely, leaving Ron alone. The Slytherin boy pointed at him, “Draco’s trash is the best you can do, huh?”

He really wanted to go for his wand but decided against it. He briskly followed Pansy and finally returned to their table. It was still only Pansy, Neville, and Ginny— but Ron would take the awkwardness of their table if it meant he did not have to interact with any more Slytherins.

Neville leaned forwards and spoke to his plate, “Pork chops!” In an instant, juicy looking pork chops appeared on his plate. Ginny followed and ordered the same. Ron glanced at the menu and decided on the goulash.

Pansy asked for steak, but the plate must not have heard her the first time. “Steak!” she nearly yelled the second time, and it was on her plate almost before she finished saying the word.

Ron wanted nothing more than to tuck in, but he remembered where he was. He took measured, careful bites, fighting his instinct to scarf his food down. Pansy had taken a single nibble of her steak before pushing it away.

Ginny and Neville had started talking about something he couldn’t quite hear. There was still something bothering Ron, so he was hardly listening anyways. He glanced around the Great Hall and soon found what he was looking for.

“Loo,” Ron told Pansy bluntly. She did not even acknowledge him. Ron made his way through small walkways between tables. Other students had begun moving around while waiting for dessert, so there was less attention on him.

Ron finally reached his destination and lowered his head between two people seated at the table, “I need your help.”

Fred and George both turned to him, smiles on their faces. “What will it be, dear brother?” George spoke first.

“Bit off more than you could chew with Parkinson?” Fred inquired.

“It’s not that,” Ron told them, “It’s something else.”

After explaining exactly what Ron needed from his brothers, they agreed to help. Though Fred and George took the mickey more often than he liked, they were always there when he needed them.

Now back at his table, Ron’s attention was focused elsewhere as he eagerly waited for dessert. After a few moments, it appeared on the table on the table with a pop. There was Christmas pudding, eggnog, sponge cake— and custard creams.

Only a few moments later, several large canaries caused a scene at the table of Slytherins that had laughed at him and Pansy moments ago. Fred and George’s Canary Creams had worked perfectly! Laughter broke out in the Great Hall.

“What did you do?” Pansy was leaned forward in her seat, watching with a half-amused look on her face.

Ron grinned, “Nothing.”

He gazed over to his twin brothers, who were standing and laughing the hardest. Pansy followed where he was looking and saw them herself, and she rolled her eyes, “You’re ridiculous.”

The Slytherins eventually molted. Their feathers fell off, returning to their much-less funny Slytherin-selves. Fred and George promised to watch Ron’s back the rest of the night, so he tucked in for his dessert and he could have sworn he heard Pansy chuckle to herself.

Not long after his successful revenge, dancing began again. Ron was dreading having to go back out to the dance floor. He wondered if Pansy would even want to— but before he could find out, Hermione was in front of them.

“Ron. Umm . . . Pansy. Would you like to dance Ron? Just one dance.”

Ron was ready for Pansy to say something nasty. But to his surprise, she just quickly responded, “I’ll go find Daphne.”

Ron followed Hermione to the dance floor. It was a difficult to look at her. Her hair was different, more like the other girls and less like Hermione. Her dress robes were elegant and even her face looked different— it was only make-up, but Ron wasn’t thinking straight enough to figure that out.

They stopped at the edge of the dance floor awkwardly. She looked at him and for some reason it was easier to grab Pansy’s waist than it was Hermione’s then. Maybe he had gotten used to Pansy. After a bit of shuffling, they were dancing together to a steady, almost-boring waltz.

“Who taught you how to dance?” Hermione asked inquisitively, their faces far too close for him to pretend to be comfortable.

“It was— err,” Ron started, trying to figure out where to begin. His mind raced to find the right words. He glanced up at Hermione. She was smiling. It was the way she smiled when she had a quip or something funny to tell him. “You already know!” Ron amusingly said, “Why are you asking me, then?”

“Harry told me everything during dinner.”

“Look, Hermione—”

“Ron, I’m sorry. I wish you and Harry would have told me before the whole school found out, but I also should have trusted you both and not gone so mad. It’s nice what you are doing for Harry. Pansy really is just terrible, and so I jumped to conclusions.”

“Well, how do you think I feel? I’m the one who has to dance with her.”

They were both laughing. It was like a stunning spell had been lifted from him. Harry must have told her the entire situation and did it so well that she apologized to him. Ron had just found a way to get out of Harry’s debt by bringing Daphne back to the Ball, and now he was indebted to Harry once more.

“Hermione, look, I’m sorry too. We should have told you before it got out. She was my only choice, really.”

“No, she wasn’t. Next time there’s a ball, ask me before someone else does.”

Ron looked thunderstruck but tried to compose himself. “I’ll remember that,” he said meekly as they spun together. He sucked in his breath and tried to move on from the subject, “How is Vicky doing, then?”

“Viktor is just fine. Has trouble pronouncing my name but the rest of it has been quite nice.”

They talked a bit more and at the end of the song she smiled at him. “Friends?”

“Always,” Ron grinned back at her.

They separated, just in time to be greeted by Harry and Daphne with Pansy following behind them. Unfortunately, the next song was already starting.

Harry and Daphne were off dancing. Hermione had gone to find Viktor. That left Ron and Pansy standing in the middle of the dance floor as disgruntled couples stepped around them.

Ron once again reminded himself of his promise to be nice. He stepped towards Pansy and held out a hand, and they slipped together quickly without fumbling.

His hand pressed into her waist. During the first dance of the night, he was so pre-occupied with getting to Harry and Daphne that he did not notice how thin her dress material was compared to the robes they practiced in. Her familiar, airy perfume and her hand on his arm— it was becoming quite natural at this point.

“What did Granger want?” Pansy asked. She was so close that only he could hear her. It was rather intimate talking to someone while dancing, a fact that only made it tougher for Ron to deal with.

Ron cleared his throat, “She apologized.”

“She apologized? For what?”

“We both apologized, actually” Ron did not want to give Pansy ammo against Hermione, “Just this whole Yule Ball—”

“Stop,” Pansy rolled her eyes, “I forgot that I don’t care. And besides— I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about Granger.”

“You’re a git,” Ron snapped at her, messing up their step.

Pansy laughed.

Ron could not believe it. It wasn’t a snarky, cruel laugh like it usually was when she was insulting him. It was a real, genuine laugh. He called her a git, and she laughed. Pansy pulled him towards her, and they both corrected their next move at the same time.

“Your sister is dancing with Michael Corner.”

He almost fell over as he swiveled his head, “Who? Where?”

“Merlin, Weasley! Do you want us to trip like Harry and Daphne?” She broke their front hands away from each other. She placed her hand on his head. Her fingers were soft and cool on his temple. The scent of her perfume was stronger than ever. She forcefully tilted his head and his line of sight locked onto his sister dancing with a dark-haired boy who definitely was not Neville Longbottom.

“That’s Michael Corner?”

Pansy sighed, “You really don’t know anyone outside of Gryffindor, do you?”

“What’s he doing with my sister?”

Pansy sighed again, “Dancing, I imagine.”

Their leading hands were clasped again. It happened without him even noticing, “Well, why has he gone and done that?” Ron asked angrily.

Pansy sighed even louder as she tried to steer them away from Ginny and Michael, “Because he probably fancies her.”

“He fancies Ginny?”

“She has grown since last year.” Ron turned beat red and had nothing to say. She gave him an impish smile, “You have a hard time identifying girls, don’t you?” Ron wanted to lash back at her, but she just shrugged. “You’re doing good,” she said in a monotone voice.

Ron somehow was turning even more red. “Knock it off,” he spat out, those being the only words he could put together.

“You managed to dance while having a conversation. You must have had a perfect teacher.”

They danced to one more song before going with Harry and Daphne to get a drink. On the way there, the four ran into Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass.

“Daphne! Pansy!” the younger girl pressed her hands together, much like Ron had seen Daphne do several times over the past two weeks. “You both look very pretty tonight.”

“So do you,” Pansy told Astoria. Ron felt strange hearing the endearing tone in her voice.

The three girls chatted while Draco, Harry, and Ron said nothing. Ron wanted to make a comment— something snarky to take Malfoy down a peg. Ron glanced at Malfoy. He was staring off pretending to be anywhere else. Ron, fighting his instincts, remained silent.

“We’ll go get drinks,” Harry announced, causing everyone to look at him.

“Punch, please! Thank you!” Daphne smiled.

“Water,” Pansy looked at Ron.

Harry and Ron were almost away from the awkward situation when Astoria called to them, “It was nice to meet you Ronald and Harry! You both look handsome tonight as well!”

Ron groaned as he dashed away, leaving Harry to formulate something cringe-inducing to say back to Astoria.

“Had to impress the little sister?” Ron said with a bit of snark and laughed at Harry when they were at the punch line together. His friend just shrugged with a smile. Ron kept laughing, “It must be going well— you seem way too giddy.”

“Daphne’s nice,” Harry knocked Ron’s arm with a punch, “You don’t seem that upset about being here.”

Ron threw his hands up in protest, “I’m miserable, Harry!”

An electric guitar suddenly blared out a heavy riff. Punch slushed out of the side of the bowl as the table next to Ron shook. Drums and bass joined in, and everyone’s attention was towards the stage.

Daphne sprinted up to them. She took the punch that Harry had poured and quickly drank half of it. She offered him the other half, which he declined, and then finished it herself. She shouted, “The Weird Sisters!” before taking Harry’s hand and leading him away.

Ron was left alone. He returned to his empty table as the Weird Sisters blasted “Do the Hippogriff” loudly. What good was a date when she left you alone? Pansy was nowhere to be seen. She was probably off dancing with Malfoy or some other slimy Slytherin.

Not that Ron wanted to dance to the Weird Sisters— and certainly not that Ron wanted to be near Prissy Parkinson. So, he concluded being alone was an improvement. But if that was true, why was he so bothered?

There was nobody next to him. All the other tables had cleared out. A song or two went by. Ron tried not to focus on thinking about where his date had gone or who she was pressed close to.

“Are you having a pleasant night, Mr. Weasley?”

Ron turned, only to be met by Professor Dumbledore. His white beard was styled more extravagantly than normal, only to be outdone by his white, silk robes which seemed to emanate light.

There was a twinkle in his eye when he spoke again, “Such a marvelous thing, when members of houses which are usually quite hostile to one another manage to set aside such petty grievances for an enjoyable experience. Forgive me, I’m afraid Madame Maxime is waving me down. Have a wonderful night, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron, who was back to being alone, wasn’t having quite a wonderful night at the moment. The Weird Sister had moved onto “This Is The Night”, and some students were getting drinks while the slower song played.

“Ron?”

His attention turned to the voice, and it was Lavender— with Parvati standing next to her. Both of their hair was messed up from dancing, and they had drinks in their hands. Lavender smiled and asked, “Where is Prissy Parkinson? Did you finally tell her off?”

Ron lazily pointed a finger towards the dance floor, “She’s out there, I reckon.”

Lavender giggled, “So she left you here alone?”

Ron shrugged, not really wanting to engage further, “Something like that.” At this point, he would have preferred being alone to dealing with Lavender.

“Why didn’t you just ask Hermione?” Parvati inquired, speaking up for the first time over Lavender, “Or anyone else, really.”

“What does it matter to either of you?” someone else said harshly.

Ron, Lavender, and Parvati were all caught off guard as they turned towards Pansy. She had her hands on her waist and her face was scrunched up enough for Ron to know there was trouble. “Ron can take who he likes, he doesn’t need approval from the likes of either of you.”

“Hermione was upset for weeks,” Lavender lashed back.

“Granger is not even your friend last time I checked— just because you got stuck with fidgety Finnigan doesn’t mean everyone else regrets their choice too. Maybe Ron will ask you next time if you manage to stop being so annoying all the time.”

Lavender stared blankly at Ron, waiting for him to say something. He knew better than to get involved— so he just carefully looked back towards the dance floor hoping this would be over soon.

He got his wish. Lavender stormed off and Parvati followed.

Ron looked at Pansy, who shot him a harsh look, “What, was that too prissy for you?” she mocked.

Her nickname was catching on around Hogwarts. She must have heard it. Ron suddenly felt guilty for calling her that more than once. “No. Those two were getting annoying, anyways.”

Just then, Dumbledore stepped onto the stage and with an amplifying charm, he spoke, “This will be the final song of the evening— and we will say farewell to a fantastic night at the Yule Ball, and a merry Christmas.”

With that, the opening waltz which Ron was far too familiar with played again. Only this time it was softer, the violins taking center stage which gave the dreamy tune a more emotional sound. The Hall went quiet as couples made their way to the dance floor.

“C’mon,” Pansy mumbled quiet enough that no one else could possibly hear.

He glanced up at her in disbelief, still seated at their table in the back of the Hall. She started to walk towards the dance floor, but stopped when she realized Ron was not following her.

“Come on,” she loudly repeated. If anyone else had said that, it would have sounded like a command. But Pansy’s usual indignant tone was missing.

Ron, unsure why his feet were moving, stood up and followed her.

They reached the dance floor, and it was second nature at this point as they folded into each other. Ron’s hand gripped her waist without embarrassment and their leading hands clasped without worry of being seen together.

“That felt good back there,” Pansy said as they started to dance. The steps were slower, easier.

Ron snorted, “What, telling some Gryffindors off?”

Pansy did not rise to his bait, but just kept speaking, “It’s not like either of us wanted to be here. You did it for Potter’s sake and I thought it’d make Malfoy jealous and make Granger’s head explode. Draco took Daphne’s perfect little sister and Granger’s here with Krum so— didn’t exactly go as planned for me. So, yes, it felt good to tell someone off.”

They danced without speaking for a long while as Ron processed. Wasn’t she defending him back there against Lavender and Parvati? But at the same time, getting back at Malfoy and hurting Hermione— that was what Pansy said she wanted when she said initially said yes after he mistakenly asked her to go with him. It almost made him as mad as sitting alone.

“Well, sorry this has been such a terrible night for you,” he said coolly, trying to mask his anger.

Pansy, once again, surprised him, “It hasn’t been all too terrible.”

Ron’s mind was racing as his cheeks burned. Which part of the night, he wondered, had she thought wasn’t terrible? Was it dancing with him? Was it when he got revenge on those Slytherins? Why did it matter to him what part of the night she liked— and why did he hope it was some part that included him?

And just like that— before Ron could fully process that Pansy might have actually liked spending some part of the night with him— the waltz ended with a bittersweet note.

Daphne and Harry quickly found them, giving Ron no time to respond to Pansy. “Let’s go back to the Clock Tower Courtyard,” Daphne told them, still somehow filled with energy, “We can say goodnight there!”

After a long walk, in which Daphne and Harry talked about all sorts of topics that made Ron want to throw up his dessert, they made it to the courtyard where they had started the night together.

They were under a covered hallway, but he could feel the cold, winter air. It was a bit of a relief, feeling the cool breeze after a night of dancing. Just as he and Pansy stopped, Ron realized that Daphne had whisked Harry away as they disappeared down a corridor. Daphne’s giggles echoed and Ron had the sense of mind not to follow them.

That left Ron and Pansy alone. They stood together in silence. Pansy then stepped out into the courtyard. Ron decided to follow.

It was nearly midnight and the last snow of Christmas fell around them. He came to a standstill next to her. Ron wondered if Pansy’s feet would be cold. She was wearing heels, after all.

When he looked at her, Pansy was staring up at the stars. He followed where she was looking, making out a few constellations above them. In that moment, he did not mind the silence between them. They simply stared at the stars together.

After a bit of time, Ron heard Harry and Daphne heading over to them. Harry was saying something, and Daphne was giggling quietly.

Ron had done it. The night was over. His massive mistake of asking Pansy Parkinson had been dealt with, and everything could go back to normal after tonight.

But then there, under the starlight, Ron saw Pansy smile at him for the first time. It wasn’t a big smile, like one you’d have on your birthday— but the end of her lips curled up just enough that he could make it out. It was a smile like two people would share when they had some inside joke but couldn’t speak it out loud.

“Goodnight,” she told him without malice, or sarcasm, or ill-intent. He could see her breath as she spoke it. Flakes of snow dotted her black hair like stars across the night sky. Her grey eyes were carefully fixed on him. Her bare shoulders were red from the chill and her lavender dress stood out from the dark around them.

“Goodnight,” he responded.

For the first time, Ron admitted to himself that Pansy Parkinson wasn’t so terrible to look at— especially when she smiled.

Chapter Text

Almost everything had returned to normal after the Yule Ball.

Ron was happy to have Harry back as his best mate. He and Hermione were friends again as well. It took a few days for the awkwardness to go away, but now they were back to talking and bickering like nothing had ever happened.

As things often did at Hogwarts, Ron and Pansy going to the Yule Ball together had stopped being the most talked about gossip— especially with the second task of the Triwizard Tournament coming up next month.

Pansy Parkinson seemed to treat their experience at the Yule Ball as something that never happened.

The first time they passed each other in the hall, Ron’s heart fluttered. He wondered why it did that. It was not at all that he was fighting to keep the memory of her standing in the Clock Tower Courtyard and smiling at him as she said goodnight out of his mind. There was no way he thought about that several times a day. The way her lavender dress clung to her, the feeling of their clasped hands— nope. Ron never thought about any of that anymore.

He must have eaten too much for lunch the day he passed by her in the hall the first time. It was not his heart fluttering at the sight of Pansy Parkinson. It was just indigestion. That must have been it. Because what was more likely? That Ron gorged a little too hard in the Great Hall or that he fancied— he stopped thinking about it because even the thought was ridiculous.

Most of the Gryffindors had stopped bringing it up as well. His brothers still made a rare comment, but even they seemed bored of it. Ginny was in a better mood and was even talking to Harry like a normal human every now and then. Maybe that was because of Michael Corner. Ron was not too thrilled about that.

Dean and Seamus had come around as well. All of the boys were getting along again. Ron’s dormitory was back to feeling like a second home.

In fact, almost everything was back to normal.

Everything besides Daphne Greengrass.

For as much as the jokes and rumors about himself and Pansy Parkinson had lost their edge, Harry and Daphne were the focus of nearly every romantic rumor in Hogwarts.

This was because, against Ron’s silent and unspoken protests, Daphne Greengrass would not stop spending time with Harry.

When Daphne and Harry left Ron and Pansy alone at the end of the night of the Yule Ball, Ron had wondered what his friend was getting into.

“Did you snog?” Ron asked Harry when they were walking back to their common room that night.

“Did you?” Harry retorted. Snogging Pansy is something Ron would never, ever think about. Suddenly, he felt another surge of indigestion at thought.

“D-don’t change the subject! You fancy Daphne, don’t you?”

The look on Harry’s face answered that question for him.

But it was now mid-January, and it seemed like Daphne Greengrass was showing up everywhere. Breakfast, lunch, dinner— she had no shame in joining the Gryffindors at their table when she pleased. In between classes, snowball fights, even the library.

On a particularly gloomy Saturday, Ron was leaving detention with McGonagall. It was a detention he got because of Daphne. Ron had slept in late because Harry decided to get up early to go meet up with Daphne instead of waking him up. That made Ron late for class and naturally that meant that it was Daphne’s fault.

As he was leaving detention, Hermione quickly joined him. “I waited for you. We’re going to meet up with Harry in the library to help with the Second Task.”

“It’s Saturday,” he said wearily. Hermione gave him a look and he relented. They walked side by side down a few hallways without saying much. “Will Daphne be there?” Ron asked with a groan, breaking the silence.

“Yes, I imagine she will,” Hermione responded, “She’s quite . . . nice. And Harry fancies her.”

Ron rolled his eyes, “Of course he does. Oh, Harry Potter asked me to the Yule Ball, and we had an absolutely splendid evening together. ”

His Daphne impression had only gotten better.

Hermione sighed but there was a smile on her face, “Don’t be rude, Ron. Or are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” Ron was turning red, “W-Why would you say that?”

“I’m not really sure who you are jealous of. Harry for getting to date a nice, pretty girl or Daphne who is taking up all of Harry’s time and leaving none for you.”

Ron threw his hands up, “Bugger off!”

The pair had eventually found Harry in the library, and they were quickly joined by Daphne. She wore her blonde hair perfectly straight and her robes were without a wrinkle.

“We’ve taken what you’ll surely miss,” Daphne quoted the clue that Harry had heard from the golden egg. “I spent some time pondering what that could mean. Is there some object, a keepsake or such, that you hold dear, Harry?” Harry just shrugged and Daphne smiled at him, “Well, my assumption is you will have to retrieve something of yours during the task.”

“What about the water?” Ron blurted out, causing a few tables around them to state. Ron talked quieter when he spoke next, “What are we going to do about that? Didn’t it say it would be a whole hour?”

“An hour you’ll have to look,” Hermione quoted without looking up from a book about merpeople.

“I suggest Transfiguration,” Daphne folded her hands together and looked at Harry.

“That’s quite advanced,” Hermione responded, looking at Harry as well, “There are sixth and seventh-year students that struggle with Human Transfiguration. Messing up could leave Harry unable to complete the task at all.”

Ron sighed, “Ol’ Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret. How hard would it be for Harry to turn himself into a merperson? Blend right in, I’d reckon.” Hermione glared at him and he gulped, “Maybe there’s another way, though. A potion or something?”

“It’s worth a look I suppose,” Harry told the group.

After two hours of skimming through dense books on potions, the group gave up for the day and left for the Gryffindor common room.

Harry stopped them right outside the library and looked nervous, “Hang on. There’s something I need to ask Daphne.” 

He dashed back inside, leaving Ron and Hermione to question what was happening. When Harry returned he had a defeated look on his face.

“Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Oh,” he mumbled, “Asked her to Hogsmeade. She said no.”

“Her loss, really,” Ron patted Harry’s back as Hermione rolled her eyes.

“It’s not like that,” Harry explained, “She said she already made plans with Pansy to visit the stores together.”

Hermione then gave Ron a look. Ron knew what the look meant but he couldn’t believe it. Did Hermione really want Ron to step in and offer to help? Even if that meant— there was that indigestion again.

“Well, what if we all went together?” Ron cringed as he spoke. But then a plan hatched. If Hermione was really going to make Ron offer himself up, she was going to go down with him. “Right, Hermione will bring along Vicky and I’ll—”

Ron’s voice stopped for a moment as he thought about gazing up at the stars with Pansy that night. Ron mumbled, “I’ll make sure Parkinson stays out of your way, mate.”

“Brilliant,” Harry smiled at them both, “I’ll be right back!”

Ron really could not believe it. Harry’s first task was a dragon and his second was going to be merpeople. Ron’s first task was the Yule Ball and his second would be Hogsmeade.

But for as much as he was convincing himself he wasn’t looking forward to going to Hogsmeade with a group that contained Pansy Parkinson, there was a part of him that was just a bit too giddy that he refused to emotionally examine.

Hogsmeade day finally came much quicker than Ron anticipated, and he found himself having to curb his excitement. There was no way he was about to come off giddy . He hadn’t run into Pansy all week and wondered if she was even going to show up.

But there she was, standing with Daphne as students poured out onto the path leading to Hogsmeade. It was an unusually sunny day for winter. Viktor was nearby as well and they all met together under a large archway.

Harry and Daphne immediately were at each other’s side, and Viktor had approached Hermione and kissed her hand.

“Hey,” Ron looked at Pansy, who had just now made eye contact with him. She was wearing heavy, dark winter robes. Her black, sheen hair had grown out a bit since the ball and Ron noticed it fell past her shoulders now. Her clear eyes pierced straight through his far-too-nervous gaze.

Ron was worried he had stared too long when she rolled her eyes. “Weasley,” she said in a monotone voice.

Ron rolled his eyes, mimicking her. “Don’t look so excited, Parkinson.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes again in response, but with an extra level of exaggeration that reminded him of Ginny.

And then Ron laughed.

He laughed . 

The entire group must have heard because they quickly turned to stare at him and Pansy. Everything went silent around them. Ron had just laughed with Pansy Parkinson and they all heard. Before Harry, Hermione, Daphne, or anyone else could say anything— a carriage pulled up besides them. Two large, white horses pulled the carriage and an older man who must have been from Hogsmeade held the reins.

“A v’agon, for us all,” Viktor announced, motioning to the carriage. There were several students paying attention to the wagon now.

“That’s very thoughtful,” Hermione responded.

Ron, eager to get everyone’s attention away from the fact he just laughed with Pansy, slapped Viktor’s back, “Yeah, mate. Well done. That walk in the cold is dreadful.”

Pansy went inside first, followed by Daphne and Harry. Viktor was holding the carriage door open and Hermione was next to him, so it was Ron’s turn.

The cramped interior had two sides. On one, sat Harry and Daphne very close together. Pansy was on the other. Ron gulped. If he did not sit next to Pansy, that would mean Hermione would have to. That sounded like a disaster waiting to happen so Ron— for the sake of Hermione and for no other reason— sat next to Pansy.

Hermione came in next, and Ron soon found himself with Pansy Parkinson on one side of him and Hermione Granger on the other. The carriage was tight, so he could feel both of them pressed against each of his sides. Ron would have preferred jumping into the Black Lake at that moment. At least then nobody could see the shade of red he was fending off from his cheeks.

The carriage ride started off painful. Daphne and Harry giggled to each other while the rest of the cabin was silent. Ron, not being able to stand the awkwardness, looked at Viktor.

“Hell of play catching the snitch against Ireland. Even though, y’know.”

Viktor nodded, “Thank you.” It was silent again before Viktor spoke, “vhat are your vavorite teams? In ze British league?”

“Not Puddlemere,” Harry said as he joined their conversation, “Maybe the Falcons— Tutshill isn’t terrible this year, either.”

Ron grinned, not missing the chance to talk about Quidditch, “The Chudley Cannons!”

Daphne clapped, “Oh! That’s Pansy’s favorite team!”

The whole carriage was quiet. Ron did not believe Pansy Parkinson liked anything besides being miserable and makeup. He wanted to say something, but Pansy spoke first as she rolled her eyes, “For obvious reasons.”

“Her father is a part-owner. She’s been a fan since we were little,” Daphne explained.

Ron, in disbelief, felt the need to challenge this. He turned towards her, not fully realizing how close they were to one another. “Who’s your favorite player, then?”

Pansy crossed her arms and huffed, “Craig Payne. Who else?” It was cold enough inside the carriage that he could see her breath.

Ron lit up, unable to hide his excitement, “His rookie season— that was a fifth place finish! The gaming winning catch against Arrows—”

“In the pouring rain, after two hours. I was at that game,” Pansy stated proudly.

“In the Top Box, correct?” Daphne added with a sly smile that Ron was far too preoccupied to notice. He hardly ever got to talk with another Cannon’s fan.

“The TOP BOX?” Ron nearly squealed, “You are tellin’ me that you saw the 1990 match between the Appleby Arrows and the Chudley Cannons from the Top Box? Payne caught the Snitch right in front of it so—”

“So, I had the perfect view,” Pansy’s lips curled up, “The team hasn’t been the same since he retired.”

“Right? Williams isn’t half the seeker Payne was on his worst day.”

“Pansy used to hide flyers with Craig Payne on them from her parents when we were growing up,” Daphne laughed with a hand over her mouth, “She had quite the crush on him— we still joke that her type is anyone who looks like Craig Payne.”

If Ron was paying any attention at all, he would have realized that one of the reasons Ron idolized Craig Payne so much when he was young was because they resembled each other. Payne had the red hair and freckles to fit right into the Weasley family.

“Well, Ron still has his posters up on his wall,” Harry joked, causing Viktor to laugh.

Ron turned away from Harry, only to be met with Pansy. Her big, gray eyes were staring up at him. The floral, airy scent of her perfume felt familiar to him now.

“Who knew Weasley didn’t have completely awful taste in everything?” Pansy said with almost a chuckle at the end.

They were so close that her joke felt intimate. It made Ron woozy. Just then the carriage hit a bump, and Ron shot up to the ceiling and banged his head.

The whole carriage laughed— even Pansy.

When the group arrived in Hogsmeade, their first stop was Zonko’s Joke Shop. On their walk to the shop, the stares and pointing had already begun. Ron thought for a moment about what they must have looked like to an outsider's perspective. It must be strange seeing him, Harry, and Hermione walking together with Viktor Krum and two Slytherin girls.

The effect of the attention seemed to bother him much less. The Yule Ball had already put him to the test, and now the shame only really felt like a light drizzle instead of a storm.

When they swung up the doors to Zonko’s, two voices were almost immediately heard.

“Oi! It can’t be!”

“Our ickle Ronnie and Prissy Parkinson!”

Fred and George were at each of his sides, and in front of them stood a very unamused Pansy. The others had dispersed into the shop— but for some reason Pansy did not move. Ron felt a tinge of guilt at Pansy’s nickname being used by his brothers.

“I’m standing right here,” Pansy said in response to them. For her part, Pansy looked mostly unfazed.

“That you are,” Fred motioned, “Right here next to my dearest little brother on a Hogsmeade date.”

“It’s not a bloody date,” Ron pushed at his brothers, trying to break their grip. They were still just a bit stronger than him, so he gave up after a few tries.

“Right,” George inquired, “It’s just a boy and a girl going to Hogsmeade together with two other couples.”

“A group date, so to speak,” Fred summed up.

“We’re here for them,” Pansy crossed her arms, “That’s all.”

“Come on, Parkinson,” Fred let go of Ron and waved his hands, “Is Ronnie really that terrible?”

“Awfully so, and that still makes him much less terrible than you.”

George laughed this time, and Fred pointed at her in response, “But you did go to the Yule Ball with him and now you’re here in Hogsmeade together.”

“We’re not—”

“And one could be led to assume that you like spending time together.”

“This isn’t—”

“And that’s what the whole school is going to think if you two keep finding yourself on these casual outings together.”

The conversation stopped for a moment. Ron looked at Pansy, who had an annoyed stare and crossed arms. She let out a large sigh and after a moment Pansy simply walked away.

“Out of all the girls, Ron,” George sighed.

“Mum’s gonna have a fit,” Fred added.

“It’s not like that. We’re not together. We’re just—”

“Friends?” George asked.

“That’s almost worse,” Fred added.

Were they friends? Was Ron friends with Pansy Parkinson? Surely not. Daphne was the only link Ron had to Pansy and as soon as Harry moved on from her they would never interact amicably again. Ron had a slight bout of indigestion at the thought.

Fred and George left the shop, and Ron was left alone with his conflicting thoughts about Pansy. Nobody ended up buying anything from Zonko’s, so Honeydukes was next. Ron was particularly in the mood for salt water taffy, but he only had a few galleons left for the rest of the year.

As he turned down one of the aisles, he was met with Daphne who was seemingly waiting for him.

“Your brothers,” Daphne said quietly, “They called Pansy that name. Prissy Parkinson.”

Ron tried to shrug and play cool, but his heart sank. “W-What of it?” he asked incredulously.

“You do not know what it is like for Pansy in her own house. The rest of the Slytherins have cut her out and she hardly has a friend besides my sister and I. It is not too pleasant for me, either, but her situation with Draco has made it worse for her.”

“How’s that my problem?” Ron asked, trying to keep up his facade.

“She suffers enough. At least I thought here, with her friends—”

“We’re not—” Ron interrupted before stopping himself.

Just then, Pansy turned the corner. She had a handful of salt water taffy. From the other end of the aisle came Hermione. “Harry and Viktor are buying a few things,” Hermione started awkwardly, “If anyone else—”

“What is this, then?”

The group of four turned, only to be met with Draco and a Slytherin girl that Ron did not recognize.

“Bugger off, Malfoy,” Ron cursed, his hand finding the hilt of his wand in his pocket.

Draco first looked at him, then Hermione, “You two will get what’s coming in time.” Then Draco looked at Daphne and Pansy. His face turned from a sneer to disapproval, “The rumors about you two are already bad enough.”

“Draco,” the girl with him pulled at his robes. Draco swiftly raised his hand to break the girl’s grip.

“Worse than that, what will your parents think about you two spending your time with the likes of them? You’re Pure-bloods, raised to be around other Pure-bloods. Not this blood traitor and Mud—”

Ron’s wand was at Draco’s throat. As pulled his wand out he had knocked into the shelves and a row of blood-flavored lollipops spilled down onto the floor.

“Say it,” Ron said through his teeth. 

Draco did not move a bit, as if calling Ron’s threat a bluff. “You’ll see, Weasley. Once Daphne and Pansy get bored of hanging around Potter, they’ll come back to their own kind and you’ll be back to your Mudblood. She’s the only type of girl a blood traitor like you deserves.”

Ron was ready. Some type of spell or curse was nearly at his lips when he felt a hand pull at his arm. His wand was lowered. He turned to see Pansy staring back at him. “You’ll get us all in trouble.”

The other Slytherin girl pulled Draco back from them, and they turned to walk away. Draco gave one last look back to Ron, who held his wand at his side.

There was a bitter taste in Ron’s mouth.

“I should have done it,” Ron said aloud, his stream of consciousness leaving his mouth as his rage boiled over.

“Vhat’s ze matter?” Viktor said as he and Harry emerged from the other end of the aisle.

“I apologize for my housemate's vile use of that word towards you, Hermione,” Daphne said quickly, stepping towards Hermione.

“Was that Malfoy?” Harry asked.

“Vhat did he say?” Viktor had a concerned look on his face.

“He called me a Mudblood,” Hermione said dryly.

“Zat is—” Viktor started.

“You don’t believe that then?” Ron sent a harsh look to Daphne. For whatever she was, she was still a Slytherin. She could apologize all she wanted. Her and Pansy both still had a long history of hanging around Malfoy.

“No,” Daphne refuted immediately, “It is dehumanizing and wrong.”

Pansy did not speak. In fact, nobody did for what seemed like a great deal of time.

“At Drumstrang,” Viktor started again, “Ve do not have these problems. M-Muggle-borns—'' he suddenly stopped speaking as Ron could tell he was realizing what he was saying.

“Muggle-borns are not allowed in Drumstrang,” Hermione finished his sentence sternly. She gave Viktor a pained look, “And do you agree with that?”

“No,” he said plainly, “I ‘ave played Quidditch with Pure-bloods and Muggle-borns alike. There is no difference.”

“How about we go to the Three Broomsticks next?” Harry suggested. His attempt to change the heavy subject did not go unnoticed by the group. Ron let out a long breath and thought about what he had almost just done. If it wasn’t for Pansy, he would have done something terrible to Malfoy. It would have been deserved, but Ron would have certainly been in trouble. Expelled, even.

“That sounds lovely,” Daphne replied.

As the group left the store, Pansy walked a few paces behind them. She did not go unnoticed by Ron.

He wondered what Pansy’s answer would have been if he had asked her instead of Daphne what she thought of Muggle-borns. The chance of her answer being a toss-up made Ron nervous. Part of him wanted to not think about it again, but another wondered if his former Yule Ball date was all that different from Malfoy.

The group arrived at the Three Broomsticks and found a table near the back. Ron, Harry, and Viktor brought filled-up mugs of butter-beer back to the table. The girls were on one side, with Daphne separating Hermione and Pansy. The three boys squeezed into the other, with Ron being pressed up against the wall and across from Pansy.

The table was painfully awkward. Ron wanted the previous conversation about Pure-bloods and Muggle-borns to be swept from the air so he spoke, “Oi, Viktor. What are you doing about the second task, then?”

Hermione gave him a disapproving look, “Ron! They are not supposed to work together.”

“Says who?” Ron asked with sincerity.

“I imagine that defeats the whole point of the competition,” Pansy said dryly.

“Ze egg,” Viktor spoke, causing the whole table to go silent, “You have . . . figured it out, ‘Arry. Yes?” 

Harry nodded at Viktor. 

“Good,” Viktor said, “Best of luck in ze task.”

“You too,” Harry replied.

“Her-my-o-nee,” Viktor then said carefully, “Please, I ‘ave planned zomething for you and I.”

With that, Viktor motioned for Hermione and started walking to the door. Hermione began scooting from the bench with a grimace. “I have a feeling it’s Madam Puddifoot's.”

Surprisingly, Pansy replied, “It’s the absolute worst.”

It was a strange moment of understanding between the two very different girls. Ron held his breath. Hermione just let out a sigh and spoke quietly, “I better go.”

It was now just Harry, Ron, Daphne, and Pansy. It was mostly more small talk. Ron was okay with that. Daphne asked them all about their favorite shops and Pansy did not say much at all.

Some time passed, and Ron noticed Harry was looking a bit antsy. Ron knew his friend well enough and tried to play it cool as he thought of a way to help Harry out. “You know, I could use another butter-beer,” Ron said loudly, his plan fully formulated, “So if you two wanted to, y’know, go somewhere while I had one— that would be fine.”

“I’ll have another, too. I guess,” Pansy signed, leaning back into the booth.

“Well, I really am quite satisfied,” Daphne looked at Harry as she spoke.

“And, uh,” Harry started, pulling some courage together, “There was somewhere I thought we could, y’know—”

“Come on, Harry,” Daphne was already standing and whisked Harry away towards the door.

Daphne had left a considerable amount of galleons on the table. Ron pointed to them and looked at Pansy, “She left ‘em.”

“Great observation,” Pansy rolled her eyes, “She paid for everyone, even you. She has a bad habit of doing that. Annoying, really.”

The table was silent. A few half-empty glasses filled the table which now only Ron and Pansy sat at. Ron gulped, “Where do you think . . . Harry and Daphne—”

“Who knows?” Pansy’s eyes were looking elsewhere, “Probably off snogging in some corner somewhere.”

Ron suddenly became very aware that he was alone in the Three Broomsticks with Pansy Parkinson. To anyone watching them— it would have looked like a date. The thought made Ron light-headed.

The silence was weighing on him, and the sudden need to engage Pansy—to make sure she wasn’t bored— the feeling took over him. Did Ron really want to impress her? His mind felt like it was turning into ooze.

“Nice, uh— the Yule Ball. It wasn’t . . . y’know.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow and looked at him, “What?”

Ron gulped, “It was . . . I don’t know.”

Pansy let out a sigh, “You don’t have to make small talk, Weasley. The Yule Ball is over and you no longer need to placate me to make Daphne happy so that Harry forgives you.”

“You know about that?” Ron was surprised.

“The whole school knew about you and Potter breaking up.”

Ron turned beat red. 

He suddenly heard a table of Ravenclaws near them break out in hushed laughter. They were pointing towards Ron and Pansy. They were whispering now and he could not make out what they were saying, but he was having none of it. “Oi!” he spat, “Mind your business!”

The onlookers got quiet and turned away quickly. Then Pansy let out a laugh. “Someone’s gotten a bit prissy ,” she said between laughs.

Ron laughed. It was funny. Parkinson could actually be funny.

After a few more moments, the table was back to being silent. But Ron’s eyes met Pansy’s and a question just seemed to slip out of him, “That Pure-blood nonsense,” he started awkwardly, “You really believe all that?”

Pansy looked away. She put a hand over her mouth as she spoke, as if to muffle her voice, “It’s just the way things are.”

“I didn’t ask that,” Ron retorted, “Do you think it’s right? The way some Pure-bloods think—”

“Granger is the smartest witch in our year,” her voice was strained like she was having trouble admitting what she was saying, “But it doesn’t matter if it’s right or not. Like I said, it’s just the way it is.”

“So, you don’t agree with it, then.”

“What do you want me to say, Weasley? You really want me to just say all Slytherins are terrible people and the proud Gryffindors are perfect—”

“No,” Ron stopped her. She had her elbows on the table, leaning forwards and giving him a new look. It wasn’t the usual contempt, but she was angry. Ron thought before speaking, “Daphne is a Slytherin, and she said she doesn’t agree. Viktor didn’t even go to school with Muggle-borns ‘til he came here and look at him off with Hermione. I want to know if you— if you think it’s right to look down on Muggle-borns.”

“You just want me to admit it, why?” Pansy questioned him, “You want to feel like you are better than me and my whole Pureblood supremacist bloodline. That we’re all just tainted with evil—”

“It’s not what I meant—”

“You want me to side against everything my family—”

“It’s wrong. What your family believes in—”

“They are my family!”

“But I want to know what you think!”

“Why? Why does it matter—”

“Because if you're going to be around Hermione, it’s not right if you think she’s lesser than me or you.”

There was heat in the air. Pansy’s face was scrunched up in a way he had not seen before. Ron hadn’t planned for their conversation to get so tense. But now Pansy wasn’t looking him in the eye. She just stared down at her drink, the foam had evaporated leaving only the golden liquid.

He searched for something to say to break the silence. He wanted her to answer clearly. He wanted her to be— not like Malfoy. He did not want to feel what he felt towards someone like that.

Ron sat back in his seat. Pansy looked at him and for a moment and they just observed one another. He thought about what Daphne had said. Pansy was no longer welcome in her own house. It simply was not right, despite who she was. He felt guilty for bringing her into that situation, even if she had agreed to go to the Yule Ball with him.

He put his thoughts aside. Then Ron spoke carefully, “Y’know, you can— be around us. Hang out, or whatever. Daphne does it all the time. In the library, when we eat.”

Pansy looked back at her drink and grunted, “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

Ron was not going to take the bait, “But only if . . . you don’t believe that Muggle-borns are lower than Pure-bloods. If that’s what you think then you can’t be around Hermione, and I wouldn’t really want you around either.”

It was the truth, but that made it no less painful to say out loud.

Pansy didn’t say anything else until Daphne and Harry returned. When the carriage arrived back at Hogwarts, Pansy left without saying goodbye to any of them.

Two weeks had passed since his forced outing with Pansy. Rumors had once again stirred about their supposed relationship, but Ron must have been getting better at dealing with these things because he hardly noticed the pointing and the whispers.

It was a windy winter day as he crossed through courtyards and dashed down hallways to reach the library. Harry, Hermione, and Daphne (who Ron no longer completely dreaded having to interact with) were already at work searching through books.

Ron joined them and picked up on the conversation.

“I believe the best course of action would be to begin attempting Transfiguration,” Daphne exclaimed.

“It’s too advanced!” Hermione retorted, “Human Transfiguration—”

“What choice do we have?” Harry groaned, “It’s better than having no plan.”

Just then, a voice interrupted their conversation. 

“May I sit here?”

Ron and the entire table turned to look— and Pansy Parkinson was standing at the end of the table with her books and a roll of parchment under one hand.

She gave Ron a look. He knew immediately what it meant. Ron just nodded gently at her, which luckily nobody at the table picked up on.

Hermione then perked up and pointed across to some other students who were getting up, “There’s one over—”

“She can sit with us, there’s room,” Ron said swiftly. With a quick swish of his wand the scattered books on their table stacked onto each other, making room in front of the empty chair.

“Hi Pansy!” Daphne chirped, “Getting a start on that History essay for Binns?”

Pansy groaned, “Unfortunately.”

“W-We got that too,” Ron felt strange making small talk.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Let me guess, haven’t started it either?”

“Not even close,” Ron replied with a grin.

Hermione turned to him with a grimace, “You said you started it.”

“He’s a terrible liar. You haven’t picked that up by now?” Pansy already had her books out and wasn’t making eye contact with any of them.

“Can we get back to the problem at hand? I’d really prefer not drowning in front of the whole school,” Harry said grimly.

“My vote is for Transfiguration,” Daphne stated once again.

Hermione sighed, “I guess we should at least get started trying to learn. Maybe we can get a sixth or seventh-year to help. We can get some advice on the easiest animal. A fish, or something simple like that.”

Ron sat back in his chair, “There has to be something else in this heap of books to get you to breathe underwater. Maybe we are looking in the wrong place.”

Then, someone spoke.

“You just need to breathe underwater, Potter?”

All of their attention was on Pansy, who for the first time since joining them had taken her focus away from her essay. Harry gave her a nod and a shrug and she put her quill down.

Pansy looked at Ron briefly. She smiled. Pansy smiled. At him. In the daylight. With other people around. What was happening? Ron wanted to scream. That was the appropriate response. Wasn’t it?

Then, as if she hadn’t just flashed her brilliant smile at him, she turned back to Harry and asked, “Why not use Gillyweed?

Chapter Text

Ron was having a wonderful, deep sleep. He hadn’t remembered the last time he slept so well. It was like one of those summer nights after a long day of playing Quidditch with his brothers. He would leave the window cracked and the cool night air made it feel like he was sleeping up among the clouds. His sleep continued, dreaming of summer days spent up on his broom and Christmas nights staring up at the stars.

And then, there was water.

It was all around him and he thrashed for a moment before getting his bearings. He then coughed and expelled a tall sprout of water. He gazed up into the shining sun and took a deep breath of air.

Ron was now treading water and saw Harry catching his breath nearby.

“Wet, all this is, isn’t it?” Ron joked, calling out to Harry. He then noticed Harry was having trouble keeping afloat, being weighed down by a small girl at his side with blonde hair. “Oi!” Ron called out again as he swam his way towards Harry, “What’d you bring her for?”

Everything was coming back to Ron. Dumbledore’s office, sitting with Hermione, Cho Chang, and Fleur Delacour’s sister, being told how the second task would happen.

“Fleur didn’t make it, I couldn’t leave her down there,” Harry panted.

Ron came up next to Harry and the girl. Together they each gripped an arm and the three were stabilized. He heard a great roar from the crowd as he was able to focus more. He was still fighting a bit to stay afloat, but he got a glimpse of the large structures built at the edge of the lake for the task and realized they weren’t too far away.

“Harry,” Ron laughed, “You really didn’t take it seriously, did you? Nobody was in any real danger.”

“The song said—”

“It’s alright mate, listen to the crowd go.” They both looked up ahead and it was true. The crowd was cheering madly as they held their heads up above the water. “Looks like you acting the hero is gonna earn you some extra points.”

They pulled Fleur’s sister through the water as they approached the bank. Ron noticed for the first time that a troop of merpeople was guiding them to shore. They had smiles and sea-weed like hair. The tips of their spears poked out of the water like asparagus in a garden. The merpeople did not look particularly threatening to Ron, but he wondered without the smiles and down in the depths of the lake if it was a different story for Harry.

Ron could make out Madam Pomfrey standing over Hermione, Viktor, Cedric, and Cho Chang. All of them were wrapped in towels and Ron was suddenly aware just how cold the lake water was.

“Gabrielle! Is she alright? Let me go!”

Ron’s attention was suddenly caught by Fleur, who was restrained by the towering Madam Maxime. “Ze task is not done until they are ashore!” the tall woman scolded as she held Fleur back.

They were nearly at the shore when Ron saw his brother, Percy, moving through waist deep waters just a bit further ahead of them. Harry had pulled Gabrielle up and soon Fleur was upon them. Percy reached Ron and helped him up, “Get off, Percy!” Ron told him as they walked to the shoreline. Everyone was watching, and Ron did not need to look like he needed help, “I’m alright! Swear!”

“I’m glad,” was all that Percy was able to say before Ron was pulled away by Madam Pomfrey. He was given an unnaturally warm blanket and a potion that made it feel like he was in a warm sauna.

Then, without missing a beat, Daphne Greengrass appeared. She stood above Harry and clasped her hands together, “Marvelous, Harry! You brought back both Ronald and Gabrielle! That has to be worth something.”

Harry gave her a crooked grin as he adjusted his glasses, but then Hermione joined the conversation. “Harry is outside the time limit though,” Hermione told them. Harry let out a large sigh and Daphne did her best to encourage him.

“Just wait for the scores,” Daphne finished with a smile.

Fleur appeared after a moment, thanking Harry and planting a kiss on both of his cheeks. Daphne seemed a bit peeved, which Ron supposed made some sense. Fleur obviously paid no attention and was soon in front of Ron.

“And you too.” 

She kissed his cheeks as well, one after the other. Ron simply returned a nod and smile to Fleur. If this were a few weeks ago, his response would have been much different. Pretty much every boy in Hogwarts had dreamed of being in his shoes at that moment—  but Ron felt nothing besides two, wet presses of lips against his cheeks.

“Herm-own-ninny,” Viktor moved towards the group after Fleur had returned to Gabrielle’s side. He reached towards Hermione and brushed something out of her hair. “You had a water beetle— it vas in your hair.”

Ron cringed a bit at the scene. It was somewhat obvious to him that Viktor was growing more desperate for Hermione’s attention as the weeks had gone by. Hermione now being Viktor’s “ thing he would sorely miss ” was only going to make it worse. He truly felt bad for Viktor, all of the girls he could have chosen and he fancied the one who didn’t fancy him back. You didn’t choose who you fancied, though, so there would be no easy road ahead for ol’ Vicky. 

Ron was almost relating to the situation when suddenly someone appeared from behind Daphne, and she spoke in a sarcastic tone, “You’ve got one in your hair too, Weasley.”

With a swish of her wand, Pansy Parkinson cast a wind spell that blew Ron’s hair back. “Ah, apologies,” Pansy said with an impish grin and her hands now on her hips, “You looked much better with it in your hair.”

The group was a bit taken aback at first, but then Ron let out a great laugh and everyone else joined in after. Ever since joining them on that day in the library, Pansy had become something like a shadow around them. She never really said all too much at first, especially if Hermione was around, but everyone had accepted her presence. Day by day the conversations became a little more frequent, and Ron felt far too giddy each time she joined them in the library.

Ron, still soaking wet and with his hair now pushed back out of his eyes, was admittedly happy to see Pansy Parkinson there to greet him. Not that he would let anyone else, especially her, know that fact. They made eye contact and Ron squinted, “Bet you’re upset I made it back, are you?”

“Devastated,” Pansy rolled her eyes, “We were almost rid of you for good.”

There were laughs again, but Ron noticed Hermione sitting in silence next to Viktor. The two girls hadn’t at all warmed up to each other. Ron couldn’t blame Hermione for the situation. A part of him felt truly guilty that Pansy was hanging around them and how that must have been affecting Hermione. He had been wanting to bring it up, but never found the right time.

Before he could think further or Pansy could make another joke, Ludo Bagman’s magically amplified voice boomed out all around them. Harry ended up taking second place for the task, and everyone around Harry burst out into cheers.

“There you go, Harry,” Ron yelled with a sincere joy in his heart, “That puts you tied for first with Cedric! That hero move paid off!”

He had his arms around Harry when suddenly Daphne was leaning down in front of his friend. She placed a hand gently on one of Harry’s cheeks, and planted a kiss squarely on his lips. The crowd let out a whoop and a whistle.

Ron slapped Harry’s back as he laughed harder at his blushing friend.

Pansy then leaned down and put a hand on Daphne’s shoulder to stabilize herself, “If that’s what Harry gets from Daphne, what should he get from the person that he’d ‘ sorely miss’ , then?”

Ron, without missing a beat, planted a big, wet kiss on Harry’s cheek. He felt Harry pull back, but Ron took the mickey a bit longer and held Harry’s head for a few more seconds as he continuously barraged his friend with exaggerated kisses. The crowd erupted even louder for Ron’s kisses than they did for Daphne.

Once Ron pulled away and Harry called him a prat a few times, Ron turned to give Pansy a triumphant look, only to be met with her brilliant smile and a true, honest laugh. They could have thrown him back into the lake at that moment and he wouldn't have minded after seeing her smile.

“I’m sure you’ve been dreaming of that forever,” Pansy teased.

Ron shrugged, “He’s the Boy-Who-Lived, who hasn’t dreamed of that?”

Harry shoved him, but then his friend looked up at Pansy. “Hey, thanks for the Gillyweed. I seriously would have looked like a fool trying to turn myself into a fish.”

Pansy just nodded. She had been the one to suggest using Gillyweed. Then she had worked with Daphne to also find enough of it for a test run and for the task itself. Ron remembered that day standing not too far from where they were now. Daphne and Pansy had met them by the lake. Hermione seemed nervous but Pansy handed over two clumps of Gillyweed to Harry.

Ron asked where they managed to find it, but neither girl came forward with their source.

Pansy Parkinson helped Harry Potter with the second task, and Ron officially declared this year as the year things had really stopped making any sense at all. Giant chess boards, a phoenix, and Harry’s godfather who could turn into a dog all made some sort of twisted, logical sense to Ron— but watching Pansy Parkinson willingly do something nice for Harry Potter had shattered any notion Ron had of normalcy. He was not all too upset about it, in truth.

Harry had earned the admiration of most of the school after the second task, and some of that glory was rubbing off on Ron. Each time a group came up to him asking about the task, Ron embellished the story on his part each time. Even Parvati and Lavender, who had been quite pissed at him for letting Pansy go at them at the Yule Ball, were swooning over him as he told his triumphant tale.

Ron supposed if things were different, he’d be loving the attention from the girls. But for as much as he tried to convince himself of it, his heart was not in it.

He wanted to accept his feelings that had been brewing, truly, but his logical thinking kept holding him back.

“ What would mum think? ” he remembered one of the twins saying at Zonko’s that day they went to Hogsmeade. There were always suspicions and doubts he had about the whole Pansy thing, but Ron was just unable to shake how he felt.

A few days after the second task, Ron was seated with just Pansy on a Sunday afternoon— Harry and Daphne were taking their sweet time as always and Hermione had yet to show up. It was then he noticed for the first time that nobody seemed to approach him when Pansy was around. He found it amusing that helping Gabrielle Delacour to shore made him a hero, but when he was hanging out with Pansy he reverted back to a pariah.

“I don’t get it,” Ron said aloud, letting his thoughts run freely.

“What, how to read?” Pansy pointed at the book that Ron was only pretending to read, “I suppose I could help you.”

“Funny,” Ron sighed, “What I don’t get is how everyone is ignoring me now just ‘cause I’m sitting with you.”

Pansy put down her quill and looked at him inquisitively, “You just say whatever's on your mind, don’t you?”

Ron gulped, “Sorry. Guess it was rude.”

“Don’t grovel. I like it— you’re bold.”

Ron’s heart felt like a mandragora being pulled from the dirt. His cheeks burnt like he had spilled a failed potion onto them. Pansy’s eyes widened as she became acutely aware of the words she just spoke. Ron tried to babble out something, but Pansy beat him, “I mean— it’s refreshing. You don’t lie. You don’t play games. The whole school hates me and you aren’t afraid to say that to my—”

“The whole school doesn’t, y’know—”

“They do,” Pansy laughed, “The Slytherins hate me because I’ve made the absolutely mad decision to spend my time with you and Potter and Granger— and the Gryffindors hate me, because, well, I don’t need to explain that. The Hufflepuffs think I’m snooty and the Ravenclaws think I’m prissy so that about covers it.”

“Well,” Ron shrugged, “I don’t hate you.” Pansy smiled and shook her head sarcastically. She was just so— he couldn’t even finish the thought without feeling dizzy. Ron was doomed. “I don’t hate you much ,” Ron added with a sly smile of his own trying to cover his light-headedness.

The two both had large smiles plastered across their lips.

“Hello.”

Ron and Pansy turned to face Hermione, who was standing awkwardly at the end of the table.

“Oh, Hermione,” Ron motioned to the empty seats, “We’re early. Harry and Daphne should be here soon.”

“Yeah, in the meantime you can teach this one how to read,” Pansy shot a look at Ron causing him to laugh.

“I just— forgot something.”

With that, Hermione dashed off and disappeared behind some library shelves. Ron knew something was up and he wanted to go follow her, but he also hardly got time with Pansy alone. Was he choosing time alone with Pansy Parkinson over going to comfort his friend? Ron felt like a git but his choice was made.

“What’s wrong with her?” Pansy asked.

“Dunno,” Ron replied.

Harry and Daphne showed up after a few minutes (which Ron savored) and Hermione returned not long after they did.

“It’s a maze,” Harry announced as the rest of the table listened in. He spoke quickly and quietly, “A hedge maze. They brought us all out there last night. They are growing it near the Quidditch pitch. Twenty feet tall hedge walls. Obstacles, creatures, curses we have to break—  the Triwizard Cup is placed at the center and the first one to reach it wins.”

Ron leaned back in his chair and held his chin, “So what do you reckon you’ll need to learn this time?”

Hermione answered, “A bit of everything I presume. The way they explained it to Harry makes it seem like this task will test all of your capacities as a wizard.”

“So I’m just supposed to learn— what, everything?”

Daphne rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Ron supposed he would find it sweet how Daphne was with his best mate, that is, if he didn’t find it entirely repulsive at the same time. “You're a great wizard. I doubt any of the other competitors have fought off a swarm of dementors before.”

“You told her about that?” Ron asked.

“You fought off a swarm of dementors, Potter?” Pansy followed up looking somewhat impressed.

“I know!” Daphne clapped her hands together and moved in closer to Harry. “I’m sure everyone at this table has a spell they can help you master. Everyone has to be good at something, right?” Daphne looked at the others, who all had questioning expressions on their faces. “So we can help teach you what we know, so you’ll learn a bunch of different types of spells!”

Hermione nodded, “It’s not a terrible place to start.”

“Alright then,” Harry looked at Ron, “Is everyone in?”

Ron truthfully did not know what he could teach Harry, but he would worry about that later. “Sure, mate,” he nodded to his friend.

“Next time you're in Hogsmeade I want a big bag of salt water taffy,” Pansy told Harry.

"Those are the best," Ron added, "I want a bag as well!"

Hermione rolled her eyes but Harry just smiled. “Deal,” he said.

A week later, the group met on a Saturday and started to make their way down to a quiet spot by the lake. Harry, Pansy, and Daphne were a few paces ahead, talking about something Ron couldn’t quite hear. He wanted to be up next to them, but he also felt bad for Hermione who was silently walking next to him.

“How’s Vicky, then?” Ron asked, breaking the silence.

Hermione sighed and looked over to him, “You know that night with Mr. Crouch— Harry and Viktor were only out there because Viktor pulled him aside to ask if there was anything going on between us.”

Ron laughed but felt a tinge of pain, “Between us? Like me and you— together?”

Hermione laughed back and nodded, “Right. Viktor knows Harry and Daphne are whatever they are but I guess he sees us together a lot so—”

“That’s ridiculous!” Ron commented.

“Right. Ridiculous,” Hermione said solemnly. Ron picked up on her tone and his heart sank. But before he could figure out what to respond with, Harry had stopped the group underneath a particularly shady tree.

“Alright then,” Harry looked out at Ron and the three girls, “I’m ready to learn. Who’s first?”

“Right,” Ron announced, stepping forward, “I’ve been thinking about what I’m good at— y’know, better than you at, at least.” Harry nodded and Ron breathed in and then spoke, “Shielding charms.”

It was silent for a bit but then Hermione was the first to speak, “I’m sure Harry knows how to use a shielding charm.”

“Sure, but not as good as me. He’s better than me at most other spells, but how do you think I know that? We’re always partnered up. Defense or dueling club. I’m the one shielding myself whenever Harry gets his practice in. I was tired of getting hit all the time by his spells so I’ve picked up a few things.”

Harry smiled and nodded, “Show me.”

Ron walked Harry through a bunch of tips he put together. Harry’s wand movement was all wrong and his shields were weak. His feet never planted firmly and squarely like Ron’s did. The stance helped. The others kept wondering how, but when Harry was planted correctly— the differences began to show.

Then Ron showed him how to change the size of the shield by switching up the motion. He even showed him how to cast the shield to different locations to block others, a skill which Ron admittedly picked up only when he was practicing alone to make sure he could really teach Harry something useful.

By the end, Harry’s shielding charms were stronger and more natural. Ron felt proud. For the first time, he felt like a proper wizard. If he could keep up with Harry Potter, even in only one thing, that was good enough for Ron.

Hermione was up next and she taught Harry to use bluebell flames. Everyone had all joined in on trying to learn each other’s spells. It was decently easy to pick up on, Ron got it after only a few tries. 

“You need to learn to hold the flame or put it into a jar as well,” Hermione instructed, “Lumos is great for lighting up an area— but if you can keep a bluebell in one hand you’ve got a light source and a backup offensive spell ready to go while your wand stays free. Don’t worry, the flame won’t burn you.”

Summoning the flame was easy, but Ron had a hard time holding and commanding the flame. It would disappear before he could manage to do anything with it, leaving only trails of pale blue smoke. Pansy, on the hand, was already tossing the flame up and down. Her flame seemed to listen to her while Ron’s was content to piss off as it felt.

“Listen to Granger,” Pansy told him, “The movement is different if you want to hold it. Don’t stress the swish so much. You keep trying to force it instead of hearing her words.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ron said, a bit embarrassed that Pansy saw him struggling.

“If you want to hold it, then take Granger’s advice and concentrate. If not then then there’s no point in trying to improve by just doing the same thing over and over.”

Ron held his breath for a moment. He focused on what he needed to do. Keep the swishing at the end of the wand movement to a minimum. He concentrated and cast the spell. He carefully guided the bluebell flame from the tip of his wand to his hand.

“Well done, Ron!” Hermione cheered.

Ron had done it. The flame danced in his palm, not slipping away like it had done before. He looked up to see if Pansy was watching. She stared at him for a moment before rolling her eyes and returning to help Daphne.

Once Harry was holding his bluebell flame, sending it out to different locations, and calling it back all with ease— Daphne was up next.

“The plant protector charm,” Daphne proudly announced.

“The what?” Ron responded.

“The plant protector charm turns any plant around you into a fierce defender who will guard you or what you tell it to at all costs. And since Harry is going to be surrounded by an entire hedge maze, it will be quite a useful spell!” Daphne finished as she looked proud of herself.

“What’s a plant going to do?” Ron questioned.

With a swish of her wand and an incantation Ron had never heard, a green light shot from the tip off Daphne’s wand to the tree next to them. Suddenly, the tree sprang to life. It shook its branches first— as if waking up from a long nap. Then it leaned down towards Daphne, pulling its large branches around her.

“Wicked, it’s like a tiny Whomping Willow,” Ron grinned, “Where’d you learn that?”

Daphne looked proud, “My family grows hard-to-find potion ingredients, so we use this charm to protect the rare plants as they grow. You can’t stare at a Sopophorous plant all day and night to keep it safe, so we cast this on nearby plants, trees, and vines to keep bugs and unwanted critters away.”

“Mate, you could turn all the vines and shrubs into a weapon,” Ron laughed as he pointed to the moving tree, “Imagine you’ve got the whole maze working for you!”

Learning the plant protector spell took longer than the others. Ron seemingly had an affinity for it, as he was quickly making the spring flowers and nearby bushes come to life. It took Harry a bit longer, but Pansy and Hermione were only able to get it a few times before the end. 

After an hour or so, Harry had the large tree near them coming to his aid, so only Pansy was left. The group was staring at her and she started with a long sigh.

“My mother is an Avery,” Pansy explained, “an old Pure-blood family. Part of the sacred-whatever. Doesn’t matter, anyways— they were all good with wind spells and I suppose I am as well.”

“A wind spell?” Ron questioned.

“That’s second-year,” Hermione added.

“For the basics, sure. Not the way I use it.”

Pansy flicked her wand in a quick V-shaped motion and in a quick burst of suctioning wind, Ron’s wand was plucked from his pocket and flung out above him. Before it fell much further, Pansy snapped her wrist again. His wand was now held in mid-air, wisps of rushing air circling around it. Then, gracefully, the wand was lowered until it was in front of Ron. He held out his hand and Pansy maneuvered the wand perfectly into place.

“There are other spells like levitating and summoning charms— but nothing can pull, push, lift, or bring down something like the wind. You’d be surprised at what sorts of things can be moved with a strong enough wind charm.”

“Teach me,” Harry simply replied.

For the next hour, Pansy walked Harry and the rest of the group step by step through different variations of wind charms. She was blunt, a bit impatient, and could take the mickey too often— but Ron was impressed that the girl who was calling them names only a few months ago was now teaching them without petty insults or strife.

By the end of the lesson, Harry was pushing and pulling Ron away like it was nothing. It felt strange to be wrapped in the flowing air, like flying but without the broom. The day was deemed a success, and Harry had thanked them all. Ron still had a queasy feeling at the fact that Pansy Parkinson was now somewhat their friend.

A few more weeks went by like this. Harry and Daphne grew closer. Ron had fully accepted that they were dating at this point. He was happy for Harry, truly. The year had started off terrible (which was partially Ron’s own fault) but everything had worked out.

The third task was only in a few more days and Ron was falling behind on his schoolwork. Between helping Harry prepare himself and never getting any work done when he was in the library with Pansy, his marks weren’t going to be pretty unless he turned it around. So Ron found himself up late in the common room tackling a History of Magic essay while most of his other classmates were asleep.

It wasn’t long before Ron was hunched over sleeping himself. But then Hermione’s soft voice caused him to jolt up.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I—” Ron started as he came to his senses, “Well, maybe just a bit.”

They both laughed softly as Ron sat up straight and started to organize the mess of books and parchment in front of him, “Bloody Binn’s essay,” Ron mumbled.

“It’s due tomorrow,” Hermione said diligently.

“Why do you think I’m up so late?” he joked. Hermione smiled again but Ron felt a twinge of guilt. He never got around to his essay while he was in the library early that day because he was talking to Pansy the whole time.

Hermione then looked around nervously and then back to him. The small, crackling fire and a few candles were the only light sources in the common room. Their shadows were the only other occupants there with them.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Hermione said as she looked away from him. She started again after a few moments, “These past few weeks, ever since Christmas, really, things have been—”

Hermione then stopped and looked over at Ron. Her eyes had a pleading look and he could feel his heart beating nervously in his chest as he anticipated her words. It was a few more grueling seconds before Hermione spoke again. When she did, her words were rushed, “Do you fancy Pansy?”

The question hung in the air like the bad odor of a dungbomb.

Ron was speechless for too long. His lips started moving on two separate occasions, but no words came out. Hermione seemed to take notice and she scooted a bit closer to Ron, as if getting closer would help Ron get the words out.

“Ron—”

“W-What do you mean?” he asked. It was all he managed to get out.

“I just— do you fancy her?”

Ron waved his hands as the reality of the situation struck him, “She’s just our friend.”

“Your friend,” Hermione said bitterly.

“C’mon,” Ron retorted, finally finding his bearings in the conversation, “She’s not—”

“She’s terrible,” she said boldly, “You know the way she’s treated us. The things she has said about me.”

“Parkinson doesn’t believe in that stuff,” he responded, looking away.

“How do you know that? Did she tell you?”

“Well, no. But she’s friends with Daphne and she doesn’t agree with that Pure-blood stuff.”

“So that means Pansy doesn’t either?”

“I don’t think—”

“How can you know Ron? Really?”

“Harry went and got himself a girlfriend,” Ron said a little bit louder as he sat up. He looked at Hermione and sighed, “The least I can do is get along with her friends. For Harry, y’know. Even if Daphne’s friends were a group of trolls— I’d do it for Harry. ”

Hermione did not seem convinced at the answer. Her lips pressed together as she looked away to collect her thoughts. 

“And Hermione,” Ron started as he thought about his words carefully, “I’m sorry it has to be Pansy, you know? Harry could have dated a Gryffindor and her friends would have been people we know . . . or at least a Hufflepuff. But he never makes it easy.”

It wasn’t long before she gazed back over to him, “So you don’t fancy her then?”

“No,” Ron said. It was the only answer that would satisfy Hermione.

She gave him a big smile and then stood up, but Ron’s heart sank instead.

Ron had just lied to Hermione— and he had been lying to himself about his feelings for Pansy ever since gazing up at the stars with her on Christmas night.

Chapter Text

Ronald Weasley fancied Pansy Parkinson.

It was the morning of the third task when Ron finally let that thought ring through his mind without holding it back. “There are stranger things than magic,” his father always used to tell him. It was only now that Ron was realizing what that meant.

Still lying in his bed that morning, he thought methodically on when he began to fancy Pansy. Maybe it was last week when she smiled at him in the library, or it was during the second task when she blew his hair with a wind spell, or maybe it was the night of the Yule Ball.

Then he wondered on the why . Why did he fancy her? He liked the way she could take the mickey but never took it too far. He liked her rare smile. He liked, well, the parts a bloke liked about a girl. But he also liked that he always knew what she was feeling and that she was not afraid to simply tell him what she thought clearly.

But there were also darker things lingering. Pansy was a Slytherin. Her family had a long history of leading the Pureblood cause in the Ministry. Ron believed she was not like that— but could he ever know for sure? And still, his feelings remained the same despite what family she came from.

There were things stranger than magic and who you fancied was one of those things, Ron supposed.

Ron finally managed to roll out of bed, and Harry was waiting for him in the common room. He was hunched over on one of the couches, tapping his foot. Together they made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. There was a mix of excitement and uneasiness in the air as some of their fellow students wished good luck to Harry, and others just stared at him strangely. A few Slytherins still had it in them to mock Harry as they passed by.

“Bunch of prats,” Ron told Harry, “Don’t give them any mind.”

Ron, Hermione, Daphne, and Pansy had done their best to help Harry and practice every spell they had time for. He was as ready as he could be. But Ron knew it was still natural to be nervous, and his friend could not hide the dark look on his face. 

Harry had gone to meet his family not long after they finished their breakfast. Ron wondered if the slimy Durselys were truly here at the castle to watch Harry compete. Surely not, he thought to himself.

But an hour later, Harry came through the Great Hall doors for lunch and Ron stood up with excitement when he saw who was behind him.

“Mum! Bill!” He leaped from the Gryffindor table to greet them. Not caring that four large tables of onlookers were watching them, Ron let himself get wrapped into a tight hug from his mother, followed by a jostle by Bill. After spending half a year getting stared at and mocked for being friends with two Slytherins, Ron was immune. “What’re you doing here? Where are the Muggles?” he asked.

“Dumbledore said it would be alright if we came to watch,” his mother smiled, avoiding his question about the Dursleys, “It will be a nice change not having to cook! How did you do on your exam?”

Ron shrugged, “Binns. I made up a few goblin names. How is a bloke supposed to remember them all? They all sound the same too. Ulf and Ulg and Urg and Ulp.”

His mother shook her head and Bill laughed, “Don’t let the goblins at Gringotts here you talk like that.”

Hermione soon joined them, but Ron realized that his mother looked less-than-thrilled to see his friend. Ron pointed out to her, “Mum! You didn't believe the rubbish that dirty Skeeter wrote about Harry and Hermione, did you?”

She turned red as a rose, “Well— it’s not true then, is it?”

Hermione and Harry both shook their heads, and Ron threw up his arms, “Of course not, Mum! How could you believe any of that?”

His mother let out a great, big sigh of relief, “It obviously wasn’t true! I never believed it for a moment! Especially that part about you Harry and that Slytherin girl— you're far too young and I can’t imagine what your—”

“Mum”, Ron stopped her before she said something she’d regret. Harry looked somewhere between embarrassed and ashamed. Ron knew what his parents meant to Harry. They were practically his family at this point. He took a breath, “That part is true enough. Well, not all the exaggerated bits. Daphne’s been helping him with these bloody tasks and she’s nice. Helps me study. I would have had to make up more goblin names if she didn’t give me her notes to study.”

“It’s true, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione added, “Daphne has been nothing but helpful. She even taught Ron and Harry how to dance for the Yule Ball.”

Mrs. Weasley smiled gently and looked at Harry, “You’re just . . . young is all, Harry. Have you been a gentleman?” 

Harry nodded meekly. Ron had to keep his composure and stop himself from laughing. Then his mother looked at him and raised an eyebrow, “And who did you take to the Yule Ball, Ronald Weasley? That detail seemed to be missing from your letters and I notice your siblings have left it out of theirs as well.”

Ron gulped. He had sworn them to never tell in exchange for doing some of their chores over the summer. “One of Daphne’s friends,” he stammered out, “A uh . . . girl.”

“Does this friend of Daphne’s have a name?” his mother folded her arms while staring him down.

“Prissy Parkinson!” Fred nearly yelled as he joined the group.

“Ronald and dear Pansy!” George echoed, “Our Ronnikins has plucked a sweet, spring flower!”

“It was just a favor!” Harry waved his hands to draw his mother’s attention. Ron at that moment was a shade of red deeper than any tomato in their garden at the Burrow. Harry kept talking, “I asked Ron to take Pansy so we could all stick together at the dance. He was going to ask a Hufflepuff girl but he decided to help me.”

Fred and George both made motions of sealing their lips, seemingly impressed with Harry’s newfound ability to fib to their mother. Ron decided to go along with it, “R-right, it was nothing, Mum.”

But it did not feel right to lie. Not to his mother, not to Hermione, not to himself. He had taken the first step of admitting his feelings to himself. He still felt a deep sense of shame that he had to dismiss Pansy to his own mother. Would she want to be with a person who had to hide what he felt? Ron’s train of thought was barreling down the tracks. Did Ron want to be with Pansy?

Luckily the topic of the Yule Ball had passed, but Ron noticed his mother watching him more carefully than usual— in a way that was typically reserved for the twins.

Not long after lunch, Harry, Bill, and Ron’s mother went for a long walk around the castle grounds. Ron felt a strange sense of jealousy that his family was at Hogwarts and spending time with Harry, but he recognized it and let it pass. Ron knew Harry needed the support.

So Ron went to potions with a clear mind. He used to loathe potions. Snape had only gotten worse with each passing year and sharing the room with the hostile Slytherins made trying to focus on anything useless.

But now— there was Pansy. Harry and Ron always sat at a table behind Daphne and Pansy. While they never talked much since their professor was Snape, Ron had become an expert on what the back of Pansy’s head looked like.

After staring at the back of Pansy’s head for longer than he cared to admit, Snape finally dismissed them. Hermione bolted off, leaving Ron with Daphne and Pansy.

“Was that your family here, Ronald?”

He nodded at Daphne, “My mum and my brother, Bill”, Ron smiled, “Here to support Harry, since, well— y’know . . .”

“That is very kind of them,” Daphne smiled at Ron.

There was something unspoken between them, that they were not welcome to talk with Ron’s family. Why? Because the assumption was that Ron’s family would not want to converse with two Slytherin girls?

Ron left them feeling conflicted, but the dinner feast in the Great Hall started only an hour later. He joined his family, Harry, and Hermione at the Gryfindor table. Ginny arrived as well, greeting her family for the first time that day and the group tucked in for a meal that had more courses than usual.

They caught up on all of the goings-on and news about the tasks and school. Ginny complained about the third-year workload and the twins talked about a prank they pulled on Snape. Bill laughed hard and his mother sighed more than once. It felt good to have his family here. Ron could admit that towards the end of the year, he would long for a home-cooked meal surrounded by his family.

Dumbledore then made an announcement, and Harry left for the Third Task. Ron stood up with him and managed a word in before he left, “You’ve got this mate, what’s a hedge maze compared to a Basilisk?”

Harry nodded back with a smile and was soon off to join the other champions.

On the way down to the Quidditch pitch, he found himself walking next to Bill. The others were far behind and his older brother looked down at him. “So you fancy Pansy Parkinson then?”

Ron shot his brother a look, but he couldn’t bring himself to think of a witty thing to distract from the situation. “I—”

“It’s alright. I’m not Mum,” Bill gave Ron’s shoulder a shake, “It's pretty obvious the twins and Harry were covering for you. Besides, your face gave it away.”

Ron groaned, “Do you think Mum knows?”

“Definitely,” Bill responded.

“Great. Listen, Bill . . .  you can’t tell anyone, alright? Hermione and Harry— they don’t—”

“Why her?” his older brother gave him an odd look. Ron could tell he wasn't being judged, just questioned.

“I don’t know,” Ron murmured, “She’s just— different. I didn’t mean to, y’know, with a Slytherin. When we talk I don’t have to impress her. I say what’s on my mind and she just— blimey, I’ve gone mad, haven’t I?”

Bill laughed, “I don’t know her but it sounds like you do. People are more than just their family name. It’s your judgment that matters and you're a good bloke.”

Ron sighed, “That’s what I’m worried about, it’s my judgment! She’s Pansy Parkinson for Merlin’s sake! What am I thinking?”

“I work with a bloke named Harold Rowle. His family are real Pure-blood types, just as bad as the Malfoys. Slytherin too. And guess what? He goes to the pub after work with the rest of us— goblins, Muggle-borns . . . he gets along with all of them. I reckon, Ron, people are more than the color of crest they wear at Hogwarts or the last name they carry. If you fancy Pansy Parkinson, it must be because you see the good in her. Nobody else really matters in your choice, do they?”

Ron thought about his brother’s words for a moment. It did feel shameful to hide what he felt. Bill was right. Both Daphne and Pansy had proved Ron wrong this year— and it was time to grow up. “I s’pose you're right,” Ron admitted to his brother.

Ron got a slap on the back from his brother, and Ron felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. He had at least one other person who shared his secret and the conversation seemed to go okay.

When they finally found their place in the Quidditch pitch stands, Ron got a good look at the crowd. The Houses were all scattered across the various stands. Ministry workers and foreign officials were mixed in as well.

Then Ron gazed down at the pitch. He could make out the four champions being spoken to by Professor McGonagall and Ludo Bagman. Then he peered down at the stand he was in. Pansy and Daphne had taken a spot just a few rows in front of him, but he lost view of them as others piled into the crowded stands.

After a moment, Bagman’s magically amplified voice rang out, “Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!”

Ron could just hardly make out Harry staring up towards the stands. Bill let out a holler first, then Ron, Ginny, and the twins joined in. Even his mother waved her arms frantically. Harry seemed to notice them, which only made them grow louder.

“Give ‘em hell, Harry!” Fred yelled.

“Let’s go, Harry!” Ginny screamed.

“So . . . on my whistle, Harry and Cedric first!” boomed Bagman. “Three — two — one —”

There was a loud blast of a whistle. The crowd went absolutely mad and Ron could hardly see down into the pitch as Harry and Cedric entered the maze. Shortly after, Viktor and Fleur followed them. After a few minutes of cheering and fanfare, the crowd seemed to realize that none of them had quite a good enough angle to make out what was happening from above.

Occasionally one of the stands would break out in cheers or gasps— their viewing angle giving them a quick glimpse at some action that Ron was unable to see.

Ten minutes had passed when Bill pointed down to a part of the maze. “It’s Harry!”

Everyone’s attention in their stand was focused. Their sightline was just perfect to look down at Harry standing face to face with a large Blast-Ended Skrewt. A green flash emanated from Harry’s wand, and the maze around him came to life. The Plant Protector charm had worked perfectly. Vines and roots shot out from the walls of the maze and pulled the Blast-Ended Skrewt away.

The whole stand around him burst into cheers.

“Daphne taught him that spell!” Hermione told his mother, loudly enough so she could hear.

“Five points to Slytherin!” George joked upon hearing that.

Then, Harry had continued on and was once again out of view. The crowd grew bored once again, but gasps filled the entire Quidditch pitch only a few moments later when red sparks lit up the sky from a far off corner of the maze.

“Fleur Delacour has been eliminated from the third task!” Bagman’s voice boomed out.

Cheers went up again. Hogwarts and Drumstrang students shouted loudly as Beauxbatons students mostly remained seated in silence.

It was not long after Fleur was eliminated when red sparks once again lit up the Quidditch pitch. The stands held their breath. After a few moments, Bagman’s amplified voice rang out again, “Viktor Krum has been eliminated from the third task!”

The entirety of the Hogwarts students and staff, including the Slytherins, were up on their feet. Ron had his arm around George and Ginny as they celebrated. Faroff chanting from another stand made its way to theirs, and Ron proudly joined in.

“Glory to our Hogwarts— all four houses sing! Glory to our Hogwarts— we won the whole damn thing!”

It was ten more minutes before the stands finally settled down. The excitement had passed, and Ron was now on the edge of his seat waiting to see if it would be Cedric or Harry who would return with the Goblet of Fire.

Time passed, and then it passed more. Fred had purchased some popping popcorn that he and George passed back and forth. There was a loud pop everytime they chewed down on a kernel and it annoyed Ron to no end. His mother and Bill started discussing the Ministry and politics. Ginny and Hermione had begun talking about summer break. As time went on, something clicked in Ron. How long had it been since the red sparks had gone up for Krum?

He leaned on George and stood up.

“Where are you off to?” Fred asked inquisitively.

“Uh . . . the loo,” Ron lied, stepping quickly away from his family.

Ron maneuvered his way through the tightly packed stands. When he finally arrived where Daphne and Pansy were seated, they managed to make room between them. Ron found himself pressed tightly between the two Slytherin girls. 

“Your mum might see you talking to us,” Pansy teased.

Ron paid no attention to Pansy taking the mickey, “It’s taking a long time, isn’t it? The last flare for Krum went off awhile—”

“I am sure it is perfectly fine,” Daphne cut Ron off speaking quickly, not breaking her gaze from the dark maze below. She gave him a brief glance and smiled meekly, “It is a Ministry-run event and there are officials patrolling all around the maze. Harry must be doing great.”

Ron turned to look at Pansy, who gave him a knowing look. Ron took a breath. It was clear Daphne was deeply worried about Harry. Ron put a smile on and then spoke, “S’pose your right.”

“Besides,” Pansy leaned forward to look at both of them, “Potter wasn’t going—”

But before Pansy could finish consoling Daphne, a great whirl of wind and color burst out from where the four champions had entered the maze. The crowd let out an audible gasp and the many rows of seated onlookers jumped to their feet.

Ron stood as carefully as he could, trying his best not to topple over as bodies shifted upward around him. He helped both Daphne and Pansy to their feet. Ron had enough height to see over the crowd. Daphne was still gripping his arm when she yelled, “What is going on? What can you see?”

Ron was able to see clearly down into the Quidditch pit where the swirling wind had appeared, and there in its place was Harry, kneeled over with the Goblet of Fire in his hands— shining even brighter than Ron had remembered it. But covering Harry and the goblet was blood. Lots of blood. That’s when Ron noticed the body that lay motionless at Harry’s knees.

“HELP!” Harry’s voice echoed loudly enough that the entire pitch could hear him, “HE’S HURT! HELP!”

There was a mad rush of people moving to surround Harry, and in a flash Ron was no longer able to see his friend. The stands became a frenzy of bodies shoving to get to a better view. Shrieks and cries rang out and Ron could barely hear his own thoughts.

“Harry!” Daphne called out as she gripped Ron’s arm so tightly with both arms that Ron thought she might pull it off.

Pansy on his other side tugged on his robes. Ron looked down at her, and their noses were nearly touching.

“Go. I’ve got Daphne,” Pansy told him. He could feel her breath on his lips.

“Right,” Ron responded. He wasted no time moving from the stands to pushing through the crowds and trying to make it to the stairs. Most people were moving against him, trying to get a better look down into the pitch. Ron fought against the current, shoving his way through until he made it to the tall, wooden staircase.

His heart raced as he moved quickly down the stairs. Once at the bottom, he could see straight into the pitch, but the frantic shuffling of people were still obstructing his view.

He took a few more steps before he realized two men in Auror robes were blocking his way.

“Back up!” one of them commanded. Ron froze where he was. Could he find a way to slip around? Could he even make it to Harry?

“Ronald!”

He instantly recognized the booming voice of his mother. She swiftly descended from the stairs and pulled him away from the men blocking the path towards the Quidditch pitch. Then she stood in front of them, with her hands on her hips.

“Let— me— through!” she demanded, pointing at one of the Aurors, “I am here standing in for Harry Potter’s guardian and I will not be kept from him!”

Just then, another Auror arrived and spoke to the two that were blocking their way. Ron couldn’t hear what he said over the shrieking and wailing of the crowd.

The first Auror looked at his mother and then nodded, “Mr. Potter will be escorted to the Hospital Wing. My colleague here will lead you there.”

His mother let out a huff then turned to Ron. She placed her hands on his shoulders, “Go get Bill and everyone else. Meet me in front of the Hospital Wing. Do you hear me, Ronald?” He simply nodded. “Good,” she smiled and pressed a hand against his cheek, “It will be alright, love. Now go!”

Ron rushed back up the stairs, finding his family and Hermione at the top of the staircase. He quickly told them to follow him, but he stopped for a moment before leaving.

He took a few steps into the stands and called out, “Daphne! Pansy!”

The two girls joined them. Nobody had time to acknowledge each other. Together the group made their way to the Hospital Wing.

“Where is Harry?” Ron could hear his mother’s voice demanding information from down the hall as they neared the entrance to the Hospital Wing. She waved Ron and the rest of the group down. They made their way across the long hall and joined her.

“We do not have that information at this time,” an Auror who was guarding the door replied solemnly.

“And just when will that information become available to us, then?” Mrs. Weasley demanded again, but to no avail. Then, Madam Pomfrey appeared as the large doors to the wing opened up.

She ushered them inside, but she too could not provide any information on where Harry was. Five, ten, then twenty minutes had gone by.

“We should go look for him,” Ron announced to the group after waiting in silence.

“Yes,” Daphne instantly replied, standing to her feet, “Harry could need our help— be in danger—”

“Dears,” Mrs. Weasley looked at Daphne, and then to Ron, “Dumbledore and the other staff were there. Harry . . . will be in safe keeping. Madam Pomfrey will return with news of when Harry will meet us.”

She did return only a few moments later. When Madam Pomfrey announced that she had no new information on where Harry was, his mother had joined them in demanding to know more about the situation.

Then, the large Hospital Wing doors were pushed open. Dumbledore entered first, looking worn with a dark expression that made Ron’s stomach churn. Then finally Harry stepped out from behind him, with a large black dog at his side.

“Harry!” Daphne and his mother both exclaimed at the same time. But Dumbledore had stepped between them and Harry, with only a wave of his hand conveying the seriousness of his request for them to stop.

“Molly, Ms. Greengrass, all of you,” Dumbledore pronounced, “Please heed the words I am about to speak to you. Harry has been through a most terrible ordeal tonight. He offered to relive it for my sake as well just moments ago. What he needs now is sleep, peace, and recovery. If he would like your company,” Dumbledore gave Ron a peculiar look, “that is his decision to make.”

The group nodded. “Headmaster,” Madam Pomfrey spoke up, simply pointing to the large dog that Ron knew to be Sirius.

“The dog is well-trained, and will remain with Harry until I deem it so.”

Dumbledore paced to the door, and turned back before leaving, “I would also like to share with you all— young Cedric Diggory has been sent to St. Mungo’s. I am told, thanks to Harry’s bravery which was beyond his calling, that Cedric will live. He will not be the same . . . but he will live.”

The doors shut, leaving the group alone with Harry and the large black dog staring out at them.

Before Mrs. Weasley or anyone could move ahead of her, Daphne pulled Harry into a hug. Her arms slipped around his neck and Harry gripped her back tightly.

“He’s back,” Harry’s muffled voice was just loud enough for Ron to hear, “He’s back.”

Ron knew.

“Harry, you’re safe,” Daphne told him.

The group watched on in silence.

Eventually Harry was brought to a bed and given a dreamless sleep potion. Daphne leaned down to whisper something in his ear, then pressed her lips against his cheek.

“I think it’s best if we go back to our common room,” Daphne told his mother and Madam Pompfrey. His mother seemed caught off guard by Daphne’s demure attitude.

“Yes, dears,” his mother said, smiling at Daphne and giving a questionable look to Pansy, “Ronald. Walk them back to their common room, yes?”

“If anyone asks, you have my permission,” Madam Pompfrey added.

After a long, silent walk, Daphne retreated into the Slytherin common room before Ron could say anything.

The halls were empty and dark.

“Are you okay?” Pansy’s voice asked in a hushed, gentle tone.

Her question caught Ron off guard. He took a step back, then their eyes met. Her eyes were low, and her lips were pressed together.

“It’s Harry that was . . . ” Ron trailed off before finishing his thought.

“You are his best mate,” Pansy reminded him, “and if Granger ever decides she’s had enough of you, he’d be your only friend.”

There was a slight, pitiful smile on Pansy’s lips. Ron sighed with a smile. “Bugger off,” he said weakly.

“Your best mate who you never go anywhere without showed up from the final Triwizard Tournament task covered in blood after being attacked by—”

Pansy stopped herself before she finished her sentence. The silence she left said everything. The reality of the situation had come to crush her words. The Dark Lord . The name was left unsaid. That’s what families like the Parkinsons called him. The Dark Lord.

He had returned. Ron knew it in his heart. So there he stood, a proud Gryffindor with a family who would surely fight once more in the coming war, together with a Slytherin, whose family had long paraded the values of Pureblood supremacy in the Ministry and would bend their knees in support and worship of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

“Everyone is going to be asking if Harry is okay,” Pansy broke the silence as she spoke quickly, “I’m sure he’ll absolutely hate that. But nobody will ask if you are— so I just wanted to.”

Despite his thoughts of her family, which side most Slytherins would take, the horror of the coming war— Ron still fancied her. Because despite the entire school watching Harry, she was watching him.

“I’m fine,” he said, hardly convincing himself.

“Lying doesn’t suit you,” Pansy simply replied.

She took a step closer to him. Pansy then motioned to his hand. Ron, without questioning her, held his hand out. From her pockets, she pulled a handful of saltwater taffies and placed them gently in his hand. Then he felt her cool touch as she closed his hand around them.

“You should get back before your mother sends a search party.”

Ron put the candies into his pocket, “Right.”

Pansy looked at him once more, and Ron remembered how the stars reflected in her eyes the night of the Yule Ball. He swore for a moment he could still see them.

“Goodnight, Ron,” she said.

“Goodnight,” he replied.

The following days were mostly a blur. Harry said very little of what happened to him the night of the Third Task. On Dumbledore’s orders (which Ron took very seriously) he did not pry despite every fiber in his being fighting against it.

Harry, Ron knew, was prone to keeping things to himself to his own detriment. If there was something going on with his best mate, Ron wanted to know. That’s what a good friend would do— help shoulder the burden.

But neither Ron nor Hermione had touched upon the subject. Ron wondered if he spoke about it with Daphne. The two still spent time together, but the giggling and the joy and the things that usually made Ron cringe had come to an abrupt end. Daphne spoke even quieter than she normally did. Pansy, for her part, came around far less than usual. 

One night, Ron found himself studying alone with Harry in the common room. Other students had gone off to sleep, and Harry was hard at working attempting to finish a Potions essay.

“Harry,” Ron started cautiously, “Are you— are you alright, mate?” His friend looked at him, only replying with a shrug. “You’re just . . . wound tight. Y’know?”

Harry looked to the last few embers of the fire, and then spoke carefully and quietly. “I almost stopped it. I was this close, Ron.” Harry had his pointer and his thumb close together, but then put his hand down dejectedly. “It was Wormtail,” Harry told him.

“Wormtail?” Ron asked.

“He was the one . . . found us in the graveyard first. He attacked Cedric. Used a killing curse.”

“Blimey . . . ”

“I just— I used a wind spell. I’ve gotten good at them. I don’t think Cedric was ready at all and I had to get him out of the way. Then I was dueling Wormtail, trying to shield Cedric at the same time. But a slicing curse got his—”

Ron had heard the rumors around school that Cedric had lost an arm. He could see the pain on Harry’s face as he recollected it.

“Then you dueled Wormtail more,” Ron surmised, trying to help Harry move away from what happened to Cedric.

“I had him, Ron. I used to think . . . everyone in the stories from the first war, they were all powerful, y’know? The amazing wizards and witches who fought in the war— the evil Death Eaters who knew terrible curses . . . it all seemed so beyond anything I could achieve. I was just a kid. But I had him Ron, if I had just focused a bit more, had trained a little harder—”

“Harry,” Ron stopped him. He wanted to say that it wasn’t Harry’s fault, but Ron knew how much he had heard that and grew to despise it. “I don’t know. Wormtail’s a bloody Death Eater . . . we’re just—”

“I’m going to get better,” Harry said with full confidence as he looked into the fire, “I could have stopped him.”

Ron sucked in his breath, “Alright then. Me too.” Harry looked at him questioningly, but Ron just shook his head, “All the training we did this year, I felt it too, y’know? If you’re going to get stronger, so will I.”

Ron stood, and held out a hand to Harry. Harry grasped it and Ron helped him to his feet, “These lessons, training sessions, whatever,” Ron started, “Let’s keep doing them, yeah? Next year.”

“Brilliant,” was all Harry responded with.

The last few remaining days of Ron’s fourth year were upon him. The end of year exams were nearly finished, and the mood around school had gotten a bit lighter as the events of the third task were a few weeks behind them.

Ron, for his part, had a new issue at hand. In all of his wisdom, he turned to sister for answers.

“Ginny!” Ron called out a week before the school year ended. He rushed across the common room, pulling his sister away from her friends and to a secluded corner.

“What the hell do you want, Ron? I was talking with my—”

“Ginny, how do I tell a girl I want to, y’know, write to her over the summer?”

His sister had a dumbfounded expression on her face. Then she looked at Ron and could tell her was being sincere, which made her roll her eyes and grin. “You write Hermione all the time,” she said with a mocking tone, “Finally figured out you fancy her?”

There was a silence, and Ginny suddenly looked like she was hit with a stunning spell as her eyes widened. Ron wanted to speak, but Ginny lunged forward and grabbed his robes to shake him, “You aren’t talking about— blimey, Ron. Parkinson?”

“Get off!” Ron swatted his sister’s hands away and straightened his robes out, “And yes, it’s Parkinson. Alright? You don’t have to say it so loud.”

“No. No way. Hermione’s my friend. If it’s not her I’m not going to give you tips—”

“Hermione’s your friend, but I’m your brother, Ginny. Besides, if you don’t help me I’ll tell mum about Corner.”

Ginny shook her head a few times and then gave in, “Fine. Alright. Merlin, Pansy.” She signed deeply and then looked up at Ron, “Okay, okay. It’s simple, really. Tell her you are going to miss her over the summer and that you should write to stay in touch.”

“Miss her? That’s rubbish— I’m not saying that— to her!”

“Well, if you weren’t going to miss her, why do you want to write to her?”

Ron was silent.

“Ew, Ron— Pansy! You are going to miss Pansy Parkinson! Tell her that. If she fancies you, it will work. Just make sure I am not in the room because that is disgusting!”

Ginny took a few steps away before Ron stopped her. “Ginny,” he said quietly, “Thanks. I know I haven’t been, y'know . . .”

“What?” Ginny looked at him with a puzzled look.

“After, the chamber . . . ”

Ginny’s sarcastic, mocking face melted away, leaving Ron staring at his sister’s pale, blank expression. “I wasn’t the best brother I could have been. You were just . . . I didn’t know what to say.”

“S’okay,” Ginny said weakly.

“No, you’re my sister— alright? I know I used to tell you to bugger off, especially around Harry—”

“Ron—”

“Things are going to be different now, and with what happened this year,” Ron told her, “I’m going be a better brother, alright?”

Unexpedely, Ginny wrapped herself around Ron. Ron let out a breath of air and folded his long arms over her. “I don’t know what Parkinson sees in you,” she murmured sarcastically.

Ron laughed and they broke apart. Before Ginny could leave again, Ron called out once more, “Oi! And if that Corner kid ever—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ginny mocked, “I’ll be sure to send you after him if he ever breaks my little, fragile heart.”

It took Ron three days to muster the courage to talk to Pansy. He tried several times, pacing back and forth in front of the library doors when he knew she was seated alone, or turning back at the last second when he tried approaching her and Daphne by the lake.

Finally he decided one morning that he would commit to his plan. He unexpectedly saw her passing through the Clocktower Courtyard first thing in the morning. It took all of his bravery to call out to her.

“Pansy!”

He awkwardly began jogging up to her. Then realized how strange he must have looked with his gangly arms flapping at his side. So he stopped, then took smaller steps. Realizing he now looked like a penguin walking over ice, Ron tried his absolute hardest to walk like a normal, regular person.

After walking what felt like the entire span of the Great Hall, he was standing in front of her and she seemed totally unimpressed and unamused.

“Pasny,” he said again, nearly out of breath.

“I heard you the first time you said my name. What do you want?”

This was Ron’s moment. Harry had dragons, the Black Lake, and a hedge maze as his tasks— Ron had the Yule Ball, Hogsmeade . . . and this moment was his third. He mustered his courage and tried to think of anything besides what shade of red he was turning. Then, he nearly belted, “Miss you— me— over the summer, I mean. I’m going to miss—”

“Merlin, Weasley. Spit it out. This is sad, even for you.”

Ron stood up straight, “I am going to miss you over the summer, and I want to write to you!”

“Have you gone mad ?” Pansy rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. She turned away from him and took three steps. Then she stopped, and Ron’s heart felt like it was about to fall straight through his gut.

When she turned back to face him, she had a devilish grin on her lips, “I will send my owl. I’ve seen yours— I don’t want that thing anywhere close to where I live.”

Then she was gone, and Ron felt like he could take on ten Death Eaters by himself right then and there. 

Pansy didn’t just agree to write to him, she would be sending the first letter. Which if Ginny was right that meant— Ron’s heart could hardly beat faster.

Their final day had finally arrived. Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny made their way to the Hogsmeade Station with the rest of the other students.

Ron was nearly aboard the train as they approached. He lost Harry and Hermione in the crowd when suddenly he felt a firm tug on his sleeves. “Get over here,” a voice commanded. He turned to see Pansy, with a dark look on her face. He quickly obliged, and she dragged him to a desolate spot at the Hogsmeade station.

“It’s about Daphne,” Pansy started.

“What?” Ron interrupted her, “Is she going to buy out the snack trolley for us?”

“She isn’t coming back to Hogwarts next year,” Pansy stated grimly. Ron was stunned. His first thought was of Harry, and if knew. “Her parents wrote her. With what happened— being too close to Potter and everything— they are sending her to Beauxbatons. Her sister, too.”

“Blimey,” was all Ron could say.

“Just . . .  she’s telling Harry now.” Ron just nodded and Pansy pressed her lips together. “I should go.”

With that, Pansy disappeared into the crowd of students leaving Ron alone. He stood still for a moment. This was reality. Slytherins and Gryffindors . . . they were on opposite sides of what was to come. Daphne was sent to an entirely different school just to keep her away from Harry. Ron selfishly thought of Pansy. Would they still be friends next year? Could they ever . . .

The train whistle pierced through the air and Ron was suddenly made aware of his surroundings again. When he finally boarded, he found Harry and Hermione seated silently in a cabin together. 

Harry hardly said a word the entire trip. Hermione had asked him if he was okay, and Ron just made an excuse that they were all up early packing since they forgot to do it the night before. Harry did not seem interested in any form of conversation and just stared out the window.

Ron’s family was waiting beyond the barrier when they arrived in London. He spotted the Dursleys as well, standing away in a corner. 

“I think Dumbledore will let you come to the Burrow this summer,” his mother told Harry as she hugged him tightly, “Keep in touch, okay?”

Ron stepped up after and clapped Harry on the back, “See you soon, Harry.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied meekly, “For this year . . . for helping—”

“I was a prat this year,” Ron admitted to Harry, “No need to thank me.”

“Not all year,” Harry said with somewhat of a smile. Hermione was next, and then Fred and George thanked Harry for something that Ron was unaware of.

Ron watched as Harry went to meet the muggles. “It will be alright,” his mother held his arm as she spoke to him, “I know this year . . . was difficult. With what happened, we need to stand by each other. What will come, will come.”

Returning to the Burrow made Ron feel younger. It was as if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wasn’t out there plotting. There were no trials or fighting or problems. Just chores and family meals and racing Fred around their makeshift Quidditch pitch. No matter how easy it was to be home, Ron knew that darker things were just outside their door.

When Ron finally woke on his first morning back in the Burrow, he found himself drawn to the window. It became a morning routine, but a week went by without any sight of an owl. Would Pansy really write to him? No, it was more likely that she had come to her senses. And what was Ron doing, pinning over a girl he fancied like a love-potioned prat? The whole situation made him want to rip his hair out.

Then finally, ten days after being home, a large, black owl that was taller than a house elf pecked at his window.

I suppose you want a letter detailing how exciting my summer has been so far— or something of that nature. Since you have very few friends, and even fewer who can actually read or write, I will indulge you. 

My summer has been a bore. Please bring me some form of escape if yours has been interesting at all because I may truly wither away from the monotony. And please feed Lilith and give her water before sending her back. The water should be clean, which might be hard for you to find on the farm or wherever it is you live.

Pansy

Ron grinned and went to reach for his quill.

Chapter Text

Ron learned almost everything about Pansy Parkinson that summer.

Ron learned that Pansy was an only child. She lived in a manor like the Malfoy’s but her parents both worked at the Ministry and were hardly home. Lully, Numsy, and Muppy practically raised her. Ron asked her what it was like being parented by house elves.

“Confusing,” she wrote back, “They were torn between following my mother's orders, which were to make sure I listened, and following my own orders, which were to let me slack off. I made it more difficult for them and looking back I do feel bad about that. Numsy used to bash her head on a cauldron when I demanded to eat sweets instead of practicing potions.”

Ron learned that Pansy could actually fly a broom quite well. “It just does not interest me all that much,” she wrote him in her third letter, “I would rather be the coach than have to do laps everyday. Or better yet, just own the team.”

Ron learned that Pansy’s favorite subject was Care of Magical Creatures. “That’s really your favorite subject? I thought you hated Hagrid,” Ron wrote back impulsively.

“I have warmed up to him,” she wrote in her curled handwriting, “He has a natural gift for handling magical creatures. And yes, it is my favorite subject. Crups and Doxies do not annoy me like humans do. They should be applauded for not being people.” He laughed when he read her response.

Ron learned she followed the Chudley Cannons even closer than he did. “Did you hear that Galvin Gudgeon is going to miss the next match due to the birth of his son?”

“He’s married?” Ron wrote back confused.

“He’s not! That’s the whole scandal! Are you even a Cannon’s fan or not?” Pansy wrote back, underlining the last line for maximum impact. Ron never expected there was anyone who obsessed over the Chudley Cannons more than him.

Ron learned Pansy had a rebellious side. “Dumbledore told me and Hermione not to write to Harry much this summer, to keep the news and what’s happening in a secret from him,” he wrote her, feeling guilty over questioning his headmaster’s request. “I’m his best mate, and he got shipped off to the muggles again. It feels wrong to leave him stranded there without a solid word.”

“Well if Dumbledore didn’t give a good reason, that sounds like bullocks to me,” she wrote back to him without commenting further. Ron sent a letter off to Harry right after he read it, and included a few snippets from the Daily Prophet, even knowing what effect they would have on his friend.

Ron learned just how bad Pansy had it in the Slytherin Common Room during the past year. “Nobody talked to me unless it was to mock me. I only had Daphne and Astoria. Without them next year . . . not looking forward to it.”

“You can hang out with us next year,” Ron wrote, trying to not come on too strongly, “The whole thing was my fault anyways.”

“Great. I get to hang out with the Boy-Who-Lied and his delinquent friends. If The Daily Prophet keeps running hit pieces on Potter then I’m sure that even I will get mentioned at some point. My parents will love that. And it was not your fault. I am content with my choices last year.”

Ron’s heart fluttered when he first read the words. The Daily Prophet might have branded Ron as the “delinquent follower of Harry Potter with 8 cases of detention,” but he cared much more about what Pansy’s next letter would say instead.

Ron learned she did not have much family at all. She was the last child of the Parkinson name. Her father had no siblings. She wrote how her parents still had not stopped trying for a boy. “My father resents us. My mother for failing to produce a male heir, and me for not being one.”

He felt guilty when she asked about his family in return. He wrote back about Bill and Fred and George and the rest of his family and about the Burrow and the holidays they all spent together. He wrote about how his mum knit them all sweaters. 

“But sometimes I feel overlooked,” his hand was shaky when he wrote back to her, “Mum never gave me the colors I asked for, it was always maroon sweaters and socks. I was just another boy, but Ginny got special treatment for being a girl. I used to feel that way a lot. I guess being best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived didn’t make it any better. Things are different now, though, I suppose.”

Sending that letter was difficult, but the words had nearly written themselves. Had anyone learned that Ron Weasley was opening up about his emotions to Pansy Parkinson . . . the thought made him queasy.

He worried even more about how she would respond to his insecurities. She might just take the mickey— but the more he thought about it, the more he trusted her. Over the course of twenty-one letters sent back and forth, almost daily, there was something new forming between them. 

“I’ve never told anyone this besides Daphne,” Pansy wrote, “The feeling that I could never live up to my father’s expectations . . . it makes me a worse person, I think. It makes me do things I don’t want to do just to please him. This year, I stopped worrying about that so much.” 

Pansy trusted him. It must have meant something. And Ron, for his part, trusted her.

Then, the letters stopped coming.

They were writing nearly daily at that point. So when three days went by without a letter, Ron began to worry he had scared her off.

Who would want to be with some insecure prat who complains about the color of his sweaters? It was stupid. Ron was stupid for writing it. It wasn’t brave to take a chance on someone you fancy, it was stupid.

After a week, he had read back through her old letters dozens of times. “After what happened, I do not think Hogwarts will be the same next year,” she wrote grimly in one of their last letters. They both were grappling with the reality of the situation.

Maybe this was just a well-timed plot to expose him. Ron opened up and whined about his life so Pansy had found the right moment to betray him. Ron had a terrible vision of the Slytherins using what he wrote in Pansy’s letters against him. But she would not do that . . . he trusted her, didn’t he?

Two full weeks passed when Ron had given up any hope. His mind was consumed, constantly wondering about different reasons for her not writing back. From catastrophizing about Pansy betraying him to the somehow worse scenario of her simply not fancying him.

Ron’s head felt like it was going to explode and his heart felt like it had been petrified.

If this was what fancying someone did to you, Ron wondered why anyone ever put up with it.

It was late one night when Ron was tossing and turning in bed thinking about Pansy. In a huff, Ron shoved all of her letters under his bed and snuck out of his window. The stars above reminded him of that night at the Yule Ball, so he just stared down at the grass as he made his way to the home-made Quidditch pitch.

Ron flung open the doors to the broom shed, only to reveal Ginny, who was carefully placing Charlie’s old broom back into place.

“Ron!” Ginny said, startled at the sight of her brother.

“Shh!” Ron held his finger up to his mouth, “They’ll hear us! What are you doing out here anyways . . . are you . . . flying?”

Ginny shrugged, “No, Ron, I just came out here to tidy up. Of course I was flying!”

“You like flying?” he sincerely asked.

“None of you lot ever let me fly with you,” Ginny said meekly, “So I sneak out at night to fly. Mum would have a fit anyway so I just . . . ”

Ron felt like a git. His sister seemed genuinely hurt. “You . . . want to race?”

Her face lit up, “Really?”

Ginny was faster than him, maybe even faster than Harry. They went from the pitch to the tallest nearby tree and back four separate times. Ginny came out ahead in every race. Then Ron played keeper for a while and was surprised how good his sister’s aim was. “You’ll need more power if you want to make the team as a chaser.”

He was surprised when she listened. The quaffles came flying towards him as Ginny gave everything she got, and Ron wondered how she got this good flying alone at night.

“You haven’t been yourself,” Ginny mentioned as they were putting their brooms away.

“What?” Ron pretended to act surprised.

“Pansy stopped writing to you.” It was silent. Ron was simply too tired to feel embarrassment, so he just stared blankly at his sister. “You asked me for advice about writing Pansy and then a huge black owl I’ve never seen started showing up here at the Burrow. Then it stopped coming around. Then you’ve acted like a gormless git the past few days.  It’s not that hard to put the pieces together.”

Ron just let out a long sign. “Yeah, well it’s not like it matters much anymore. Does it? She stopped writing to me.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow, “So? I haven’t written Corner in a month.”

“Aren’t you two dating?” Ron asked sincerely.

“We are,” Ginny responded, “But his last letter was such a bore and I just haven’t felt the urge to write back yet.”

Ron suddenly started wondering if that’s what Pansy felt about his letters. “So you don’t fancy him anymore?”

“I never said that,” his sister stated.

Ron had just begun to think that he maybe slightly understood something about girls, but trying to make sense of Ginny’s reasoning had shattered that illusion. If she fancied him, why not just write back? 

Ron groaned, trying to make sense of it. He then mumbled, “But if you fancy him . . .”

“Are you worried Pansy doesn’t fancy you, Ron?”

“Yes,” Ron admitted as he sat down on an old wooden chair in the broom shed, “Yes I am worried that Pansy bloody Parkinson does not fancy me. I embarrassed myself in my last letter and I think it’s over. There, I said it. Are you going to take the mickey now or can I expect it later? Just get on with it.”

Ginny brushed off the other chair and sat across from him. She let out a sigh and looked out the clouded shed window towards the empty, dark Quidditch pitch. “I know what it’s like . . . y’know.”

Ron looked at her strangely, “What are you on about?”

“You’re an idiot,” she said bluntly, her face scrunching up in anger.

“Oh,” was all that Ron managed to say in response as he came to the realization of what she was referring to.

“Yeah,” Ginny spat, “ Oh . Real nice.”

“Ginny,” Ron started carefully, “Harry. Y’know, he’s my best mate, but the bloke can be a bit . . .”

“I spent four years hoping he would notice me. After he saved me in the Chamber . . . I thought . . . maybe now he would talk to me, get to know me. But then the Yule Ball came and I was right there and he went and asked a Slytherin instead.” Ginny looked at him with genuine hurt in her eyes, “S’pose I’m not as pretty as the perfect Daphne Greengrass.”

Ron stood and lifted his sister into a hug. “Don’t say rubbish like that when you know it’s not true.”

“Why her?”

“Who knows,” Ron told her truthfully as he tightened their hug, “Harry can be a mystery even to me.” Ron suddenly realized what he actually needed to say, and it had nothing to do with his best mate. Maybe he did understand girls, if only just a bit.

“You’re special, Ginny,” Ron mumbled, “ You’re smart, better at magic and flying then I’ll ever be, hell, you could join the Harpies with that speed of yours.”

He held her shoulders and pushed her back a bit. He could see the dark, pained expression on her face that felt all too familiar to Ron now. He had only felt it for a few weeks, but Ginny had felt the pain of pining for someone for years .

Ron tried his best to cheer her up, “Don’t tie your worth to some idiot bloke, alright?”

She laughed weakly, “That's your best mate you're talking about.”

“Well, it takes a gnome to know a gnome, right?”

She laughed again and hugged him once more. “Thanks.”

He smiled, “Don’t mention it.”

Before they left the shed, Ginny looked at him once more, “And listen, Pansy fancies you. Alright?”

Ron was caught off guard, “What?”

“A girl just knows these things.”

“Then why’d she stop writing?”

Ginny frowned, “Ron . . . can you think of anything going on right now that might make her stop writing to you?”

The reality Ron had hid from could no longer be denied. Even if Ron still thought Pansy no longer fancied him . . . Ginny made a valid point. You-Know-Who . . . what was coming . . . 

Suddenly a voice called out, “Ronald! Ginevra! Get inside this instant!”

“C’mon,” Ginny flung the door open and left him alone, “Mum is gonna lose it if we don’t hurry!”

When Ron’s head hit the pillow, his mind only raced further.

Either Pansy no longer fancied him, or the world would never let them be together. He did not know which explanation was worse.

It was the very next day when his mother announced the news. They were leaving the Burrow immediately. “We aren’t safe here,” his mother stated without looking directly at any of his siblings who had gathered around the kitchen table. She folded her arms and spoke, “Sirius Black has offered us protection and everyone here will be going to stay with him. That’s final.”

There were questions from his siblings, but his mother sent them upstairs to pack. He stood alone as he watched his mother swish her wand to set the dishes back to their place.

“Won’t the Ministry help us? Y’know, protect the Burrow?” Ron asked.

His mother turned back around, giving Ron a pained look. “They don’t believe there is anything to protect us from,” his mother sighed, “The official stance of the Ministry is that Harry was attacked by Sirius Black.”

“That’s not what happened!”

“Well, the Ministry doesn’t believe him,” she responded softly.

“What about Cedric?” Ron threw up his arms, “Hermione told me that he’s recovered and he’ll be back at Hogwarts next term. He was there! They just need to talk to him!”

Just then, Ron’s father walked through the door. He looked at Ron and spoke sternly, “Cedric told the Ministry he has no recollection of the events. Him and Harry grabbed the Goblet of Fire at the same time. That was Cedric’s last memory.”

“So the Ministry is just . . . going to lie about You-Know-Who being back?”

“Go up and pack your things,” his father said in an unusually serious tone, “We are leaving before noon.”

“But Dad, this is bullocks—”

“Ronald.”

Ron made eye contact with his mother again, but she did not look upset. She took a few strides towards him and pulled Ron into a tight hug. “I need you to promise me, look after your siblings— Hermione, dear Harry . . .  keep everyone safe this year.”

“Me?” Ron croaked. What could Ron do to protect them? Between his siblings, Hermione, and Harry, he was the worst with his wand. Ron suddenly remembered his promise he made to Harry before they left Hogwarts, “If you’re going to get stronger, so will I.”

Ron decided at that moment he would have to keep that promise, for everyone’s sake.

His mother pulled Ron back and held his shoulder tightly. Then, she placed a warm hand on his cheek and Ron felt for a moment that he was much younger again. The feeling would not last, he knew, “You’ve been by Harry’s side through— you’re strong, Ronald. With what’s coming . . .”

“I know,” he replied quietly.

His mother let him loose, and he looked to his father. He simply gave Ron a nod and knowing look.

“Go pack your things, dear. Hurry,” his mother said as she gently nudged him towards the stairs.

After an hour, Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron had dragged their school trunks and other belongings into the kitchen. You could hardly take a step without having to move around a piece of luggage.

“How are we meant to take all this?” Ginny asked as she plopped herself onto her school trunk.

“We’re not,” his father added as he entered the kitchen, “Bill and I will come back for this. We’re apparating. Ginny and Ron, with me. Hold tight.”

In a blur of color and light and sound, Ron found himself on a quiet, brick street. It was just after noon, and the sun was high above them. Ron surmised he was in London. As he came to his senses, Fred, George, Bill, and his mother appeared not too far from where they were standing.

“Right”, his father announced as he unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket. “Pass this around. Read the sentence carefully. Go on,” his father handed him the crumpled piece of paper, “You first, Ron.”

Ron read carefully, reading out each word to himself.

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

As if out of nowhere, a decrepit door appeared from between numbers eleven and thirteen. The bricks themselves had shifted to create room for the house that was putting itself together before Ron’s eyes. Ron could hear the muggle wireless still blasting a song that sounded similar to the Weird Sisters. The muggles inside must have not noticed the movement at all.

Ron passed the paper to Ginny, and when they all had read it his mother quickly cast a vanishing spell on it.

“What’s the Order of the Phoenix?” Ginny blurted out.

“Hush!” his mother scolded, “Never say that aloud again! Do you hear me? All of you!”

Her tone was unusually fierce, and there was silence amongst the rest of the siblings.

His mother and father were already on their way up the crooked and worn stone steps that had appeared and led up to the new number twelve door. With some hesitation, Ron followed his family inside the house.

Ron was immediately hit with the smell of damp wood and rot. When the door closed behind George, who was the last inside, they were left in complete darkness. Ron swore he felt something move past his legs— but he did not dare to make a noise.

Suddenly there was light from his mother’s wand. Ron could now make out the peeling wallpaper and the threads of an old carpet that lead down the long hallway in front of them.

Then, there was light and a voice calling them from far down the hallway. “Oi! Welcome! The place isn’t as bad as it looks— it’s worse!” The voice turned to laughter and Ron could finally make out that it was Sirius Black as the Weasleys poured into the entranceway of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

“Arthur, Molly, nice to see you again,” Sirius shook both of his parents' hands as Ron looked bewildered at the decaying house around them.

“You’ve met each other before?” Ron then asked inquisitively.

“We’re compatriots,” Sirius announced with a laugh.

“Compatriots?” Ginny questioned.

“Enough of that,” his mother huffed as she looked on at the state of their new residence, “Children, this is Sirius Black. We’re to be his guests here at his . . . his home.”

“Not much of a home,” Ginny snorted.

Sirius laughed, “I’m sure it pales in comparison to the charms of the Burrow. There’s still plenty of cursed objects around. Books on dark magic, that sort of thing. Oh, and please, mind my dear Mother—”

“Cursed objects?” his mother cried.

“D-dark magic?” his father gasped.

“Your Mum is here, I mean— she lives ‘ere with you?” Ron asked with his eyebrows raised.

“She’s here, but she’s not exactly living,” Sirius laughed again.

“Mr. Black . . .” Ron’s father started, “Could we—”

“Have a word?” his mother finished sternly.

“Please, call me Sirius. Right this way to the kitchen. Oh!” Sirius pointed up the stairs, “Take whatever room you can find up there kids, just uh . . . give it a good check before you make your choice. I’ve done a good sweep but Moony was up there earlier and got bit by an old jewelry box. His fault for snooping around but—”

“A word, please,” Molly interrupted again.

“Right,” Sirius said as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Ron’s parents turned to him and his siblings, but then stared back at each other. “Why don’t you kids go upstairs and—”

“Arthur!” his mother whispered harshly, “We can’t send them up there! Who knows what evil —”

“Molly, please,” his father pleaded, “Listen, everyone. We’re staying here for the rest of the summer.”

 There were groans and protests, mostly from Ginny and his mother, but Ron stayed silent, “The Burrow is not safe, and Sirius Black welcomed us into his . . . his place , so we’re to be respectful. Understood, Weasleys?”

It was silent, and his father sighed, “And don’t . . . don’t touch anything you don’t have to.”

His parents left them as they followed Sirius into the kitchen, a quiet, whispered argument sparking between them as they left.

“This is exactly how I wanted to spend my summer,” George said in a mocking tone.

“Oh yes, dear brother,” Fred added, “A five star stay with the most modern of accommodations.”

George lifted his finger and poked at the decorative wooden serpent that sat upon one of the staircase banisters. In an instant, the wooden serpent sprang to life. Its long body dashed out and its wooden teeth clamped down on George’s wrist.

“Bloody hell!” George squealed.

Fred pulled his wand out and aimed carefully, “Stupefy!”

The wooden snake released from George’s wrist and fell against the wooden floor with a loud clunk. Ginny, without saying a word, kicked the wooden serpent down one of the nearby hallways. It clanked against the floor as it disappeared into the shadows.

George winced in pain and held his wrist. Then he let out a groan, “Five star stay, that’s a load of bollocks.”

That first night, Ron could not sleep. His room felt strange. His eyes darted to dark corners of the room as he swore he could see shadows crawling just out of his view, but he could never catch them. Finally, Ron gave up. He decided a midnight snack was in order and went down to the kitchen.

He pulled a freshly baked biscuit from a large glass jar his mother had found and cleaned thoroughly. But before he could take a bite he turned swiftly to the doorway. There stood Sirius Black.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” the man said quietly.

“S’okay,” Ron mumbled, “Just hungry.”

Sirius then placed two objects on the table with a loud thud. Sirius pointed down at them “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Ron leaned down and looked over two old, dirty mirrors. Ron swallowed a large bite of his biscuit before speaking, “To do his hair, then?”

Sirius laughed, “No. Though I s’pose someone ought to do something about that mess on his head as well. These are two-way mirrors. If he needs to talk to me at school, I just thought since  . . . maybe it was a bad idea—”

“No,” Ron interrupted Sirius, “It’s a great idea.” He thought about how much Harry would need Sirius this year. With You-Know-Who back and the Ministry lying, Harry needed family. “He talks about you a lot. When he can, only to me and Hermione, y’know? It’ll be good that you can talk to him at school.”

Sirius gave Ron a beaming look, “Really? He talks . . . about me?”

“Not everyone has a godfather that can turn into a dog.”

Sirius laughed, “I s’pose that’s true!” After a moment, Sirius stopped laughing and looked down at the table. His look turned from happy to solemn in an instant, “How is he, Ron? Tell me the truth. I haven’t got to talk to him since . . . You-Know-Who.”

Ron did not want to lie, but he also did not want to speak for Harry. He looked away from Sirius trying to think of something to say. “The truth, please,” Sirius said, in a way that Ron wasn’t sure if he was commanding or pleading. “He’s all I have left of them,” he finished grimly.

Ron knew Harry did not like it when others talked about him. But this was his godfather. Sirius had a right to know . . . and maybe he could help if he knew what Harry was feeling. 

Ron stuttered as he spoke, “Harry’s not himself. Not good, y’know?” It was quiet and Sirius seemed unsatisfied with the answer. “It was just a lot last year. The tasks, how it ended, the Daphne thing—”

“The Daphne thing?” Sirius asked with a strange look. “The mess that Skeeter wrote about . . . and she was there that night in the hospital wing . . . it was all true, then?”

Ron gulped nervously, “Not the exaggerated parts that Skeeter wrote about but uhh . . . he did, y’know, date her.”

“Harry dated that Slytherin girl? She’s a Greengrass, right?”

“Daphne Greengrass. They kind of, I mean, not really he just—”

“That kid,” Sirius said in an amused, proud tone.

“They broke up, though,” the word just slipped out of Ron’s mouth.

“Why?” Sirius questioned.

Ron, feeling like he had already said too much, found the floor very interesting at that moment. “Just . . . ask him.”

“Your Mum was saying something about a Slytherin girl you took to the ball too, are you still dating her?”

Ron was being questioned about his love life by Sirius Black. He never expected his day would end like this when he woke up. “No!” he responded after a moment, “We weren’t like that.”

“But you wanted to,” Sirius asserted, “I can tell. She was there too that night.”

“Sure,” Ron simply gave up in trying to hide it, “But it can’t happen, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin.”

“The world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters. The Slytherins are kids, just like you lot.”

“Malfoy is nothing like us,” Ron protested as he met Sirius’s gaze.

“Maybe not,” he sighed, “But he could be. Different parents, different circumstances, we’ve all got both light and dark inside us. It was a Gryffindor who betrayed Harry’s parents. My favorite cousin was a Slytherin, but she went off and married a muggle-born.”

“But Malfoy chooses to be evil, dark,” Ron responded again, “That’s his choice.”

Sirius just shook his head, “It’s not a choice if you’ve been given no other options. Get upstairs before your mum hears us, she’ll have my head up on the wall if she thinks I kept you up late.”

Ron went to leave the kitchen, but Sirius spoke once more. “Thanks for telling me about Harry.”

“Right,” Ron said quietly, “g’night then.”

It was only a week later when Hermione arrived. Nobody had told him that she was coming, Ron simply turned a corner to head to the loo one morning before he nearly ran into her while turning a corner.

“Ron!” she laughed, fixing her hair as she stood up straight. They quickly hugged, before Ron fully made sense of what was going on.

“Hermione— you’re here. When did—”

“Just now,” she responded quickly, “Dumbledore gave the order and then it was Tonks and Lupin and Moody who showed up and my parents weren’t overly thrilled to have the Mad-Eye Moody come stumbling into my living, the real Mad-Eye Moody, mind you, and then—”

“Merlin, Hermione,” Ron laughed, “It’s good to see you but let me use the loo.”

Hermione chuckled, “I’ll see you downstairs alright?”

In that moment, Hermione’s laugh and her smile reminded him why he used to fancy her. Used to . Ron wondered for a moment why he couldn’t just fancy Hermione again. But he couldn’t. She was perfectly fanciable, especially seeing her now.

But fancying someone was not a charm you could cast or dispel as you felt.  If it was, Ron supposed his love life would be much easier. There were stranger things than magic, and who you fancied was one of them.

Having Hermione around Grimmauld Place helped, mostly because it was another set of hands to help with chores and another voice to distract him from thinking about Pansy.

It was only a few mornings later when Ron woke to the familiar pecking of Hedwig at the window. It was Pansy in her letters who convinced Ron to ignore Dumbledore and continue to write to Harry. But Ron wondered now if that was the best course of action. 

Could he still trust Pansy? Was her judgement on writing Harry a mistake? Or was it intentional sabotage?

He refused to start spiraling over a girl when the sun was hardly out, so he quickly snatched the letter from Hedwig and cleared his head.

Ron started reading, but quickly sat up as his eyes poured over Harry’s scrawled writing. “I’ve been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I need to get out of here, Ron.”

In an instant, Ron was on his feet. He read that line over and over as he slipped out of his room, careful to avoid a cursed floorboard that would stun you if you stepped on it.

Ron had almost made it to the kitchen when he heard a booming voice.

“MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER! WHEN I GIVE YOU A TIME TO END YOUR DUTY THAT IS THE EXACT TIME I MEAN FOR YOUR DUTY TO COME TO AN END— NOT A MOMENT LATER!”

“Dumbledore, please—”

“STEP OUTSIDE, I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK IN PRIVATE WITH YOU.”

Ron immediately recognized the angry voice as Dumbledore’s. He glanced over to see Hermione had silently joined him at the door.

“He’s furious,” Hermione whispered, “What’s gone on?”

“Harry sent a letter . . . dementors.”

Hermione gasped and Ron swung the door open to the kitchen. Immediately, Mad-Eye and Tonks had pushed past him, followed quickly by an angry looking Dumbledore and Mundungus. His parents were speaking with Lupin in the corner.

“What’s going to be done about Harry?”

Ron had not realized what he had given away by speaking aloud, but luckily it was only Sirius who heard him. Sirius flashed Ron a knowing look, then pointed to Harry’s letter that Ron was still holding in his hand. Sirius raised both eyebrows and Ron immediately realized his mistake.

Ron quickly shoved the letter into the pockets of his pajamas just in time for his parents to take notice of him. Sirius had a wide grin.

“What’s going on?” Ron said again loudly.

Ron’s mother approached both of them slowly. “Harry, dears, he—”

“Is he hurt?” Hermione interrupted.

“He’s fine. He was . . . he had an encounter with a few dementors.”

“He’s an expert at dealing with those, at least,” Ron grinned at Hermione, who looked no less comfortable at his remarks.

“A few of us . . . I mean, the adults . . .”

“You mean the Order,” Ron said boldly.

His parents had denied it for long enough. Fred and George were the first to piece together what was truly going on at Grimmauld Place.

“Do you think Mum and Dad are working for Dumbledore?” Ginny had asked one night when they were speculating together. “This whole Order of the Phoenix thing, y’know?”

“I think the whole lot are,” George replied, holding out his hand to show Ginny and Ron their latest invention. The Extendable Ears worked well enough to hear the secret meetings of the Order of the Phoenix. They had caught Lupin whispering to Sirius during one of the meetings.

“I never thought I’d live to see the Order of the Phoenix reborn,” Lupin said quietly.

With that, Ron and his siblings knew.

Ron stared at his mother and now his father who had joined in on hearing Ron speak the words blatantly.

“Who told you what the Order is?” his mother asked with a serious look on her face.

“Mum— we’re living in the headquarters. It was not all that hard to pick up on.”

“The Order of the Phoenix,” his father started quietly, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder and looking towards Hermione, “We follow Dumbledore’s word . . . to fight against, you know . . . it’s for adults, it’s our responsibility. You must never speak of this to anyone. Understood?”

Ron and Hermione nodded together and he sighed and his shoulder slumped down, “Right, then. Some of the members of the Order are going to pick up Harry and bring him here. Get Ginny and the twins up. Find a room for Harry, clean it out best you can.”

Ron felt a strong sense of pride that his parents were members of the Order of the Phoenix. But he also felt a new twinge of guilt for disobeying the only order Dumbledore had given him. If he ever wanted to become a member of the Order . . . Ron wondered if he had hurt his chances. But helping Harry was more important. Wasn’t it? Ron wondered about it for the rest of the day until Harry finally showed up.

His arrival was announced by none other than Hermione. “HARRY! Ron, Harry’s here! He’s arrived. Oh, how are you? Are you well? You’re not hurt? I know we hardly wrote— please don’t be furious with us. And merlin the dementors I cannot imagine—”

“Hermione!” Ron interjected as he approached them, “He’s only just arrived, lay off him! Let him breathe!”

Ron examined Harry. He frankly looked terrible. Too thin, too tired. It was even worse than previous years. “Hedwig’s upstairs, woke me up early with that letter this morning.”

“Thanks for keeping me in the loop the past few weeks,” Harry told Ron, before shooting a piercing look over at Hermione.

Hermione looked at Ron, then back to Harry. Then she crossed her arms and let out a huff, “Ron— you— disobeyed Dumbledore! We received orders!”

“Orders?” Harry responded harshly.

“Not to clue you in . . . or write too much to you,” Ron said plainly, “Dumbledore told us.”

“And someone refused to listen!” Hermione shrieked, “You could have put both of yourselves in danger, there was a reason Dumbledore told us, it’s what he wanted—”

“What about what I want?” Harry looked at Hermione and his words were harsh, “Ron did what a true friend would do and he—”

“That’s not fair!” Hermione retorted.

“Really, mate, she was just—” Ron tried to get a word in.

“I was alone, nobody was telling me anything—”

“Dumbledore thought you were the safest with your family and he told us not to write. That was our order and if you want to be mad at me for that, fine!” Hermione spoke loudly over both of them and let out another huff at Harry.

“Have you been attacked by dementors this summer, Hermione?” Harry’s bitterness was on full display, “Why would Dumbledore want to keep me in the dark anyways? What’s the point?”

“He didn’t want you to know anything, mate,” Ron stated matter-of-factly, “Neither of us are sure why.”

“Can’t be trusted, probably,” Harry said grimly.

“You know it’s not that,” Hermione mumbled. Ron could tell she did not have a clear answer either, and it was bothering her as well.

“What about the Order of the Phoenix then?” Harry asked them. “Well?” Harry asked again in a forceful tone, “What’s the next big secret I am being left out of?”

“Me, Hermione, the twins, Ginny,” Ron told Harry, “We’re too young, so we can’t go to the meetings. It’s Dumbledore’s secret society. For fighting . . . You-Know-Who.”

“I want to join,” Harry said adamantly.

“It’s like Ron. Harry, we’re too young. They will not let us near any of the meetings. Either way I think this is something the adults should—”

“WHO SAVED THE SORCERER'S STONE FROM VOLDEMORT? WHO GOT RID OF THE DIARY AND RIDDLE? WHO FOUGHT OFF DEMENTORS TWICE?”

“Harry—” Hermione tried to interject to no avail.

“WHO HAD TO OUTFLY A DRAGON? ESCAPE MERPEOPLE AND FIGHT THROUGH A MAZE? HOW MANY OF THE MEMBERS OF THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX HAVE FACED VOLDEMORT? NOT MANY I RECKON BUT I HAVE! AND YOU HERMIONE, FOUR WEEKS I’VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE AND NOT A WORD FROM YOU ABOUT ANYTHING THAT MATTERED—”

“That’s not fair mate!” Ron grabbed Harry’s shoulders, trying to calm him down, “You can’t blame her for—”

“YOU DIDN’T TRUST ME TO KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON, HERMIONE,” Harry shoved Ron’s arms away but before he continued shouting, a harsh shrieking rang out.

“Filthy scum! Dirt and vile! Half-breeds, freaks, and impure mutants! Begone from the house of my fathers! Your ilk should be punished for setting foot—”

“Shut up, you horrible old hag!” a new voice yelled back. Ron, Harry, and Hermione whipped their heads from staring at the portrait back around to Sirius, who had charged out of a doorway to get between Harry and the large portrait of Walburga Black.

Ron had been subject to her bombardments several times already, but she had been quiet for the past few days. Ron had wondered if she had finally settled down for good, but it seems that Harry’s yelling had riled her up once more.

“You!” the portrait howled with her eyes bulging from her head. She pointed outwards at Sirius as her face shriveled up, resembling a trembling prune, “Back to shame me! The curse of my own flesh! A blood traitor in my own house— burn the branch I did! You abomination, you miscreant, you—”

“I— said— SHUT— UP!” 

With that, Sirius yanked the curtains closed. The curtains fought him, whipping back open.

“Blood traitors! Making your bed with Mudbloods and their vile—”

“SHUT UP” Sirius yelled back again.

Ron leaped forward, grabbing one of the curtains. Sirius then grabbed the other with both hands, and together in unison they pulled the curtains over Walburga once again. The curtains fought back once more, but this time they were each able to hold the curtains in place until their resistance ceased and the portrait was silent.

Both Ron and Sirius let out a big sigh of relief. Sirius turned back towards Harry and let out a chuckle, “Hello Harry. It looks like you’ve met my mother.”

It was Sirius who was finally able to calm Harry down. After an argument between Ron’s mother and Sirius (which Ron stayed out of for his own safety) it was Sirius who was able to fill in all of the questions Harry still had and Ron was able to sit in and listen.

Days passed, and Harry’s hearing at the Ministry for the use of underage magic and magic in front of a muggle had hung over them all. Harry was in a right foul mood. Hermione became the target for his outbursts. Ron tried his best to talk him down when the lashing out became too much to bear. Hermione, for her part, had apologized more than enough times.

It was unfair of Harry, but Ron could understand where his resentment was coming from. Hermione, just like Ron last year, would simply have to tough it out. It was the cost of being close to Harry, Ron supposed.

The only time Harry’s mood lifted was when Sirius was around. It was more often than not, since it was not like Sirius could leave Grimmauld Place. Ron could see the bond between the two forming stronger. Walburga Black and the Dursleys weren’t all that different. Ron could see that Sirius truly understood Harry on a level few did.

The date for Harry’s hearing came, and when he arrived home that day he announced he was cleared of all charges.

“He got off!” Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny cheered for the rest of the night.

They celebrated with butter beer and treacle tart. Ron did not think of Pansy a single time that entire day, until he leaned out of the window for fresh air before bed. He looked up at the stars, and thought of what she might be doing right at this moment.

It seemed he could not escape her. He groaned and attempted to sleep with the thought of their letters on his mind.

Summer holiday came to an end, and the booklists arrived. There in his letter from Hogwarts, was something scarlet and gold.

George snatched the letter and the badge fell into George’s palm.

“ Prefect ?” George laughed, “Ronnie’s been made Prefect?”

There was a roar of excitement and confusion as everyone had their input.

“It’s Ron— not you, Harry?” Hermione questioned.

“I don’t believe it!” his mother cried, “Oh, Ron! Wait until your father hears! You could make it as Head Boy, just like Bill and Percy!”

During the commotion, Ron felt proud. It was his moment, stepping outside the shadow of Bill and Percy and Hermione and Harry— he was being recognized now and it felt good. Ron did not need to revel in it.

For once, he felt proud to be Ronald Billius Weasley.

They had gone off to pack their trunks and his mother left for Diagon Alley to do their shopping for them. As they went up the stairs, Harry looked back towards Ron. Harry spoke plainly, “Listen . . . Ron— well done. You deserve it, mate.”

Ron nodded, “Never thought it would be me. Neville or you or something—”

“I’ve caused too much trouble,” Harry grinned.

“I know,” Ron retorted, “That’s why I didn’t think they would pick me, I was there for most of it.”

The day finally came. Ron was not nervous to start a new year. He was not nervous when it came to his new Prefect duties. He was not nervous to return to potions with Snape.

Ron was only nervous to see Pansy Parkinson again.

With Harry and Hermione around, and all the excitement with Harry’s hearing and packing, he was able to keep her out of his head most days. 

But then the Cannons would come on the wireless and Ron thought of Pansy sitting in the Top Box watching Craig Payne catch the snitch. Sirius would talk about pranking Slytherins during his time at Hogwarts, and Ron thought of Pansy. His mother brought home salt-water taffy and Ron thought of Pansy. Hermione talked about being an only child with Ginny, and Ron overheard and thought of Pansy.

Everything seemed to boil down to her, and Ron wanted to pull his hair out.

Stepping onto the train, his heart raced. Pansy could be around any corner. At any moment he could see her. What would Ron say? What would he do?

An answer. That is what Ron needed. Why didn’t Pansy write back? Her potential answer was making him more nervous than anything else.

“We need to go to the Prefect’s carriage,” Hermione announced, stopping Ron’s runaway thoughts.

Harry nodded, “Good luck you two”

“Right,” Ron sighed, “Had I known this meant I’d have to go to a bunch of meetings . . .”

Harry chuckled and Ron followed Hermione. They began making their way towards the front of the train when they were stopped by a meek voice. “Ron? Hermione?”

The two turned, only to be faced with Cedric Diggory. The boy hardly resembled his former self. His hair was shorter and thinner. Bags under his eyes and visible cheekbones made him look ghastly. His robes seemed to drape off of him strangely, and it was then Ron remembered that Cedric’s right arm was severed by Wormtail’s curse.

“Cedric,” Ron said, not knowing what else to say.

“Hello, Cedric,” Hermione elbowed Ron, “Glad to see you. How was your summer?”

“It’s just . . . is Harry—” Cedric stopped himself. He looked like he was going to be sick. “Nevermind,” he stammered out. Cedric turned swiftly, and left Ron and Hermione alone again.

Ron realized Cedric had not made eye contact with them at all. The brave and bold boy from the Triwizard Tournament was no longer, and it seemed to Ron like Cedric was just the ghost left behind now.

Something about that struck a fear in Ron. Nervously, he grasped at his robes. Everything that happened last year was real. You-Know-Who was out there. A war was coming. A war in which Pansy would be on the opposing side.

“He looks terrible,” Hermione whispered.

“Need the loo,” Ron grumbled, “I’ll meet you there.”

Ron darted down the carriage and tried to shake the gnawing feeling that Cedric and Pansy and last year all brought on. When he swung open the train car door to find a loo in the next carriage over, someone was on the other side.

“Weasley,” Malfoy spat out with a devilish grin.

Ron took two steps back, and Draco Malfoy slithered forward. The feeling of despair vanished and hatred replaced it. Ron focused on Malfoy’s impish sneer.

At the very least, Ron had grown over the summer. There was something satisfying about being able to look a few inches down at Malfoy.

“Heard they made you Prefect. They just hand the title out to anyone in the Gryffindor house, don’t they?” Ron then noticed Draco’s Prefect badge attached perfectly to his robes. If being a Prefect meant Ron would have to spend more time with Malfoy, he was ready to give the damn badge over to Harry.

Draco took a step forward and Ron had a grip on his wand in his pocket. “You and Potter . . . you’ll get what’s coming soon.”

Draco shoved passed him and Ron turned and watched as he strutted away. Ron debated, as he always did, if hurling a curse at Malfoy would be worth it. But Ron decided it would not be a good look for a Prefect to be starting fights before the year had even really started.

Ron turned back, forgetting what it was that he was doing— when his heart completely stopped.

There, just behind where Draco was standing, was Pansy Parkinson.

It was her eyes first. Ron stared at them. He remembered the stars reflected in them on the night of the Yule Ball, staring up at the sky together.

Then it was her hair. She had grown it out, and now it fell in long, silky strands and blended in perfectly against her black robes.

Then it was her skin. Not pale, but porcelain and perfect.

He had no idea how long he stared at her. 

Ron’s first instinct was to reach out to her, to feel her. More than anything that’s what he wanted to do. But there was also rage. He wanted to scream . . . to yell . . . all of the pain she caused him and the endless nights where he tossed and turned over her . . .

But before he could do anything, or say anything, or ask why she never wrote back, Pansy put her head down and swiftly walked past him. The smell of her airy perfume hit him. He remembered gripping her waist through a thin layer of lavender fabric while they danced, her perfume drawing him in then.

Ron turned to try and follow her— to say something, anything at all.

Pansy was already a few paces ahead of him when she turned back to Ron.

“Watch your back this year, Weasley.”

And then, Pansy Parkinson was gone.

Chapter Text

Ron was not sure what the worst part of his fifth year was. It was either Pansy Parkinson completely ignoring him or Dolores Umbridge ruining Hogwarts.

What Ron was sure of was that his fifth year was turning out to be complete bollocks.

Umbridge was plain awful. The pallid toad made potions with Snape seem like a holiday in the Mediterranean. She made a Binn’s essay seem like a relaxing evening activity. The vile woman made walking Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts sound like an exciting adventure.

Dolores Umbridge ruined Defense Against the Dark Arts and she was well on her way to ruining Hogwarts as a whole. She had just been named High Inquisitor— more bullocks. Ron felt like a vomiting jinx hit him just thinking about it.

I must not tell lies.

When Ron saw the carvings on Harry’s hand he was furious. But it was Harry’s decision what to do about it. “There’s more important things to worry about than her,” Harry had said coolly. Ron and Hermione had begged him to tell Sirius, or anyone adult at all, but he refused.

Harry was another problem.

Last year had changed Harry, and Ron worried it was mostly for the worse. Now that he did not have Sirius around to keep him level-headed like when they were back at Grimmauld Place, his best mate was imploding.

To make it worse, Harry had become public enemy number one for most of Hogwarts.

Even members of his own house had turned on him. Seamus accused him of lying about Voldemort in the middle of the common room with everyone watching. “The Boy Who Lied,” others would whisper as they passed by in the halls. Ron just wanted one normal year where Harry wasn’t the unwilling subject of the world’s attention.

Making the situation even more horrible was the fact that Harry had made himself a target for Umbridge— and it did not seem like there was anyone coming to help. None of the other professors had stepped in. Dumbledore had seemingly abandoned Harry this year. Ron thought about writing to his own mother but knew it would only enrage Harry more.

And to top it off, Harry had yet to let up on Hermione. Ron was trying his best to get Harry to ease up. He was lashing out and Hermione was the closest target. Hermione had tried to apologize for keeping Harry in the dark over the summer. Harry could have his moods. Ron knew this better than anyone else.

“He’ll come around,” Ron told Hermione one night when they were on Prefect patrol together.

"I can’t take it anymore, Ron,” she said quietly. Ron could tell she was sincerely hurt.

Ron also received a letter from Percy, who had been completely consumed by the Ministry. “Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter,” his brother had written in his snotty, curled handwriting.

Ron thought he still had five brothers, it was just that Harry had replaced one of them. Ron burned the letter not a moment after reading it. He never told Harry about it. He was worried that any little thing might be the breaking point for Harry this year.

So between Umbridge, his friends fighting, Percy, and most of the school ostracizing him once again for standing by Harry— this was already a terrible year.

But it all somehow paled in comparison to Pansy Parkinson completely ignoring him.

The fact that Pansy’s avoidance of Ron being somehow worse than all of the terrible things this year brought made him feel like a world-class dolt.

Ron had tried several times to approach her but it seemed Pansy was always with her vile group of Slytherins. Draco was glued to her at nearly all times of the day and it made Ron want to stand in the garden and fling gnomes as far as he could.

How could Pansy go back to hanging around the worst of the Slytherins? She must have always believed the Pure-blood garbage. It was all just some sick, vile joke and Ron’s pathetic attempt at romance was the punchline.

Despite his catastrophizing, there was still a gnawing feeling that kept Ron hoping. It was like a Doxy nibbling at his insides every time Ron tried to give up on Pansy completely.

“Ron . . . can you think of anything going on right now that might make her stop writing to you?” Ginny’s words that night they raced together had stuck with him. Maybe Pansy had really gotten caught. Her parents were strict and they would have punished her for writing to the likes of him.

Once, Ron spotted her strolling across the Clocktower Courtyard alone. There was hardly anyone else around, so he made his move.

“Pansy!” he called out. She had stopped, just for a moment upon hearing his voice. Ron was frozen in place as if hit by a full-body bind. But then Pansy just kept walking, completely ignoring him. Ron had let her go. He wanted to go after her, turn her around and shake her to her senses. But he didn’t.

Whether Pansy had taken the mickey to terrible lengths or if whatever was between them could never be because of her family. . . he needed answers. He needed to hear it from her. Ron would go mad otherwise.

It wasn’t until a particular groggy morning when a ray of hope finally appeared to him.

Ron was scanning the weekly Prefect’s duty list when he came across his assignment.

“Friday, October 13th. Ron & Pansy. After Hours Patrol.”

A rush of heat blazed over him and Ron swore he nearly lit the parchment on-fire in a bout of accidental magic.

Before he could set anything around him ablaze, he was instantly cooled when he remembered her words on the Hogwarts Express at the start of the year. 

“Watch your back this year, Weasley.”

Ron could always tell what Pansy was feeling. There was no mystery like with other girls who said one thing but looked like they felt another.

And her face, there on the Hogwarts Express, showed fear. Her words were not sharp, they were a warning. Ron wanted to believe that to be true more than anything at that moment. It was the reason he still needed to talk to her, and it was the reason that Pansy ignoring him completely was that much more painful.

Or was Ron simply deluding himself? Was he seeing what he wanted to see?

Whatever was the case, they had a shared patrol in less than two weeks. Ron was determined to confront her then and face whatever answer she might give.

There was one relief Ron got from Pansy and Umbridge and the whole school hating him again. Twice a week, Ron and Harry would head out to a secluded spot on the far side of the lake and practice dueling.

This was not practicing like they did in the now-cancelled dueling club. Ron had followed up with his promise to Harry that he made at the end of last year. They both needed to get stronger for what was to come.

Harry was relentless. He was angry. Ron hardly managed to block half of Harry’s disarming charms and stuns when they first started. When Ron finally adjusted to his friend's lack of restraint, he started firing back. Hermione had forbid them from using anything too dangerous in exchange for being their look out, so stunning spells and the occasional impediment jinx were his choice of offense.

Once Harry was forced on the defense after a few weeks, it was his turn to step up. The two friends continued to ramp up their power until their practicing had become all out duels— real duels, with spells and shields clashing, ducking and diving to take cover, tricky spells like turning the ground to ice under the opponents feet, and it always ended with Ron sweating worse than he ever had before.

“Well done,” Harry had told him after one of Ron’s rare victories, “You got me with that tripping jinx.”

Hermione had joined them by the shore of the lake. She approached cautiously, “I was wondering,” she stopped for a moment and Harry turned to look at her with a cool expression, “If you thought anymore. . . about my idea. . .”

“No,” Harry replied swiftly.

“No as in you haven’t thought about it or no as in—”

“No as in no,” Harry snapped.

“Mate,” Ron started. Harry shot him a nasty look but Ron was resolved to work through Harry’s dark mood, “Hermione’s right that nobody is learning anything about Defense this year. You’re a brilliant teacher, I’m already loads better.”

“I can’t waste time teaching,” Harry said, less venomous than he was before.

“Listen, mate, me, you, and Hermione. . . we know what’s coming. It’s always been us three who knew. But everyone deserves a fighting chance against what’s out there— and we could really use a few more people who actually like us this year.”

It was quiet between the three of them. Harry stared out at the lake and Hermione gave Ron a knowing look. Ron just held his breath and gave her a reassuring nod.

“I lost last year, and Cedric paid the price,” Harry said bluntly. Then he signed, “If I was stronger it would have been different. If I was just. . .”

“Mate, you can’t do this alone.”

Harry shot a piercing look to Ron, “You sound like her,” Harry nodded back to Hermione who remained silent but had a hurt expression on her face.

“Well, it’s true. Hermione says there’s people who want to learn. . . to get stronger with you. If the war. . . when the war starts—”

“War. . .” Hermione muttered.

“There'll be two sides,” Ron reaffirmed himself, “and it’ll be better, I s’pose, if our side knows how to defend themselves.”

Ron thought about who would be on that other side. The thought of her was inescapable, like a sticking charm that never broke.

Harry gazed back out the lake one last time, then stood and looked at Hermione. “Okay,” he mumbled. “Gather them up. I’ll do it.”

Hermione set up the next visit to Hogsmeade to be the first meeting of whatever it was they were putting together. They had chosen the Hog’s Head to avoid prying eyes.

Ron was stunned at the amount of people who had shown up. First was Neville with Lavender and Dean. Parvati and Padma came along with Cho. There was Luna Lovegood, standing wistfully near the back wall. Ginny brought Micheal Corner and his friends— Ron groaned when he saw them walk in. Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, the Creeveys, and more Gryffindors that Ron did not know. A few Hufflepuffs as well. There was a pink-faced blonde one who smiled at Ron when she entered the room.

Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws. . . there must have been close to thirty people packed into the small, cramped room in the Hog’s Head. Just as Hermione was about to address the group, the door opened again.

Nigel Wolpert scammered in. The boy had continuously asked Ron for Harry’s autograph and for a moment Ron wondered how he had found out about the meeting.

Nigel, who quickly picked up on the fact that Harry was staring at him in the doorway, managed to put together a sentence through his embarrassment, “B-Brought a friend. Hope that’s okay?”

From behind him, another student who looked as young as Nigel stepped forward meekly. There on his robes was the crest of Slytherin.

“H-Hello,” the boy mumbled. Ron could hardly hear him.

“What’s your name?” Hermione asked.

“Joshua Rayner, I’m a second-year,” the boy said, speaking louder.

The room grew quiet as the others realized what was happening. Ron did not know what to think. His thoughts of Pansy Parkinson tore his mind in two on how he thought of the Slytherin house.

“Why do you want to learn Defense from Harry?” Hermione asked.

The young boy gulped. Anyone would be nervous in his position, Ron supposed. “My dad. . . my family we’re. . .”

He stopped with a stunned look on his face. Hermione nodded at him reassuringly before he continued, “My f-family is friends with the Greengrasses. Daphne told me last year. . . Harry, she talked about how you were the strongest wizard she knew. . .”

Ron gave a glance over to Harry, who had a pale expression.

“I just— my mum is. . .  I’m a half-blood and I believe you,” Joshua let out quickly.

Hermione looked at Harry. The mention of Daphne was the first time her name was brought up since the summer and Ron gnashed his teeth down waiting to see what Harry’s reaction would be.

“The world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters. The Slytherins are kids, just like you lot,” Sirius had told him that night over the summer at Grimmauld Place.

Ron gathered his bravery. In that moment he did not think about dealing with a pissed Harry or what the others in the room might have thought.

“There’s a spot over there,” Ron pointed at the only spot left in the tiny room. Nigel scurried into the room, but Joshua stalled for a moment. The Slytherin boy looked at Harry, then to Hermione. Finally his eyes locked with Ron and all he could think to do was give the young boy a nod.

Joshua took his place, and Harry made no comment as he turned to address the silent crowd who had been watching the scene play out.

The meeting went off with a few hitches, but ultimately Harry agreed to teach everyone and Hermione exclaimed that she would find a way to swear everyone to secrecy at Harry’s request.

As members of the new-found group funneled out of the Hog’s Head, someone pushed through and entered the room.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione turned to find it was Cedric Diggory. The rest of the room had cleared out and a long silence came in their absence.

“Late,” Cedric stammered before speaking again, “I’m. . . I don’t know if you’d—”

Cedric stopped himself from speaking and his gaze fell to the floor. Ron was still suspicious of Cedric. Not being able to recall a single memory from the night You-Know-Who returned rubbed Ron the wrong way. It was Hermione who finally spoke.

“Did you want to join, Cedric?”

It was silent for longer than felt comfortable, but then Cedric spoke, “They kept me back. . . lost my wand arm.” He held up his left arm as if to show them what was left. “I can’t cast half of what I used to and Defense this year is teaching less than half of what I need.”

“Cedric,” Hermione said sympathetically, “I guess I never thought of how it could— would you like to join?”

“Yes,” he replied quickly.

“Great,” Hermione rushed before Harry or Ron could get a word in, “I’ll follow up when our first session takes place. . . tell no one, alright?”

Ron could not sleep that night. He kept thinking about young Joshua Rayner, a half-blood with a muggle mother. He would be surrounded all day by other kids who hated his mother for not being magical.

He thought of Cedric. Last year he was a champion of Hogwarts and this year he was indistinguishable from a ghoul. The state of Cedric Diggory felt like a dark omen to Ron. Cedric was what losing looked like.

He thought of her. He wondered if she had sleepless nights thinking about him. He worried that she didn’t.

The days leading up to October 13th felt like somebody had cast a powerful spell to slow down time. But the minutes and hours Ron counted finally passed and that morning he woke up without anyone needing to pry him out of bed.

Almost immediately when getting ready for the day, Ron gave in. He did not think about their new, secret club that was having its first meeting soon. He did not think about You-Know-Who or Umbridge. He did not think about Harry imploding or Hermione feeling isolated or dumb Percy at the Ministry.

Pansy Parkinson was what he thought about all day.

He had decided on his strategy. Ron planned to just immediately ask her why she stopped writing and why she was avoiding him. No greetings, no warning— straight and to the point.

Pansy once said when they were in the library that she liked how Ron was blunt, so that was the strategy he was going to deploy.

“Why did you stop writing to me and why are you avoiding me?”

Ron repeated the line in his head like a mantra— like a quote from some important wizard that he needed to remember for a Binn’s test. 

He went his entire Charms class without listening to a single thing Flitwick said. He spent his entire lunch nervously tapping his foot without eating a single bite.

“Why did you stop writing to me and why are you avoiding me?”

“Why did you stop writing to me and why are you avoiding me?”

“Why did you stop writing to me and why are you avoiding me?”

The day had lingered on, but finally curfew time was only moments away. Ron paced himself carefully as he made the trek to the Prefect’s Bathroom on the fifth floor. That was the spot Prefects always met before patrol began so they could sort out who was patrolling where. Ron meant to arrive exactly at the predetermined meeting time.

Ron arrived at the spot first. His heart was pounding against his chest like a quaffle inside its box.

His heart nearly stopped when he spotted a figure at the end of the hall. He realized it was not Pansy. He let out a sigh and he wasn’t sure if it was a sigh of relief or disappointment. Ron ignored the other student and went back to worrying.

“Ron!” the student surprisingly called out. It was only then that Ron realized it was Ernire Macmillan. He was a fellow Prefect.

“You got the schedule wrong,” Ron told him, “It’s not your night.”

Ernie shrugged, “Listen, Parkinson practically begged me to swap with her.” Ernie held up his hand and opened it up, revealing a few golden Galleons in his palm, “This is what finally won me over. Must have really wanted the night off.”

Ron was speechless.

“Hey, didn’t you two date last year?”

“No,” Ron replied, “Never.”

Ron decided at that moment that if Pansy Parkinson wanted nothing to do with him, then he wanted nothing to do with her.

What good was pinning after someone you could never have? What good was pinning over someone who hung around with Death Eater wannabes?

As Ron patrolled the empty, dark halls of Hogwarts that night, he thought only of how he was never going to think about Pansy Parkinson ever again.

When Ron finally got back to his silent dorm room, he took a moment before getting into bed to simply stare out the window.

It was a particularly cloudy night, and Ron could only make out a single star in the sky— it’s light just barely visible from the dark clouds in the black sky.

But when Ron finally fell asleep after tossing and turning, the stars lit up the sky in his dreams as he stood in the Clocktower Courtyard.

Ron woke up the next morning and was no longer thinking about Pansy Parkinson. With all the new space in his brain for thinking about far more important things, he had time to focus on the secret Defense club he was supposed to help run.

There was finally a break-through when figuring out where to have their meetings. Dobby had told them about the “Come and Go Room” that the house elves used. 

After working with Harry and Hermione to test it, the trio found their meeting spot. The Room of Requirement could keep everyone hidden, and Hermione’s contract would keep everyone silent.

Getting everyone into the Room of Requirement on the first day happened without a single issue. For all the bad that had happened so far, Ron felt a surge of pride as everyone piled in. Everyone signed Hermione’s contract one by one and soon enough the room was looking at Harry for instruction.

Harry wasted no time to direct them. “Alright, I figured we’ll start with disarming charms since—”

“Harry,” Hermione stopped him, “I think we ought to have a name for. . . this. Promote a feeling of unity, we’re all on the same team. . . right?”

There were some murmurs of agreement.

“How about the Anti-Umbridge Brigade?” Fred shouted out. There were laughs and the mood was lightened immediately. Even Harry cracked a smile.

“Or the Smarter Than The Ministry Group?” George followed up to more laughter.

“The Defense League?” Cho Chang gave the first serious answer.

Young Joshua Rayner spoke, “How about the The Defense Association?”

There were several nods. Hermione seemed to like the name. She spoke, “We could call it the D.A for short.”

Ginny then stepped forward, “Let’s call it the D.A, but how about it stands for Dumbledore’s Army instead? That’s what Umbridge fears is going on— right? So let’s give it to her.”

There was more laughter and even a few cheers. Harry had a specific look and when the crowd finally looked to him for approval, Harry spoke carefully, “This is bigger than Dumbledore, or Umbridge, or the Ministry." It was absolutely silent as Harry stared out in the crowd. It was so quiet that Ron could have heard the wings of a Snitch.

“This is about us, students who don’t have anyone helping us. It’s about getting stronger so we all can face what’s coming.”

“Potter’s Army!” Micheal Corner joked. There were a few laughs.

Ron thought about what they were doing there. Everyone in the room was risking being caught by Umbridge so they could be prepared. There was no Dumbledore, no adult. . . nobody had come to help them.

Only one thing had helped them in their effort to get stronger.

“The Hogwarts Army,” Ron said loudly.

Harry gave him a wide grin. It was like some fire was lit within his friend again.

“The Hogwarts Army!” Fred and George both shouted. The group was riled up and whooping loudly.

They had found their name.

Hermione handed out fake Galleons that could keep everyone informed on their next meeting time. After that, the first lesson began. Harry had paired everyone up and disarming charms were the first lesson at hand.

“Ron, Hermione,” Harry pulled them aside, “You both know this well. . . can you. . . help? Make sure everyone’s getting looked at?”

“Of course,” Hermione replied with a smile.

“We’re on it,” Ron added.

The sound of disarming charms whizzing through the air filled the well-fitted Room of Requirement. Nigel and Joshua were struggling with the charm.

“Don’t be afraid to hit each other,” Ron added as he was explaining the motions to them, “If you’re going to get better at them, you can’t have any reservations. It doesn’t hurt all that much. Harry’s been lobbing them at me for years.”

The boys hardly improved, but Ron figured it would take time.

Ron glanced over to Cedric who had paired up with Luna. Hermione was helping him and Ron felt a twinge of guilt watching the once-proud sixth-year student reduced to relearning a simple disarming charm.

Ron turned to watch two Hufflepuff girls practice. He recognized one as Susan Bones. Hermiome sometimes chatted with her. The other he only remembered as the blonde girl who smiled at him at the Hog’s Head.

Susan’s disarming charm was sharp and direct. It clashed against the blonde girl with a loud crack before she had a chance to get her shield up. Her wand clattered against the floor near Ron’s feet. Without hesitating, Ron lifted the chestnut wand and held it up towards the girl.

She was pretty enough, her blonde hair was a bit messy but her tiny smile and pink-cheeks were immediately endearing.

“I’m no good,” the girl’s quiet voice told him and she took the wand back. “T-thanks, I’ve already picked it up enough times.”

Susan laughed, and Ron let out a chuckle as well.

“Let me see your disarming charm and then I think I can help with your shielding as well.”

Ron spent nearly twenty minutes helping the nameless girl get her spells right. Her disarming charms barely improved, but she was shielding Susan’s spells much more consistently.

“That’s good!” Ron cheered as her shield came up in time and held its form as a strong disarming charm broke and dispersed against it. “Won’t have to be chasing your wand with a shield like that,” he encouraged.

The girl flashed him a smile and Ron could not help but blush a bit.

The session ended after nearly two hours. The crowd looked exhausted, but there was a buzz in the room that Ron could not explain. Maybe it was hope or maybe it was just their first time properly casting a spell this year— but whatever it was had been successful.

The Hogwarts Army was here, and Ron felt good for the first time. Harry had been a natural as he guided the lesson. Ron could see the tension and struggles lifted from his friend’s brow as their fellow students improved from just a single lesson.

People were hanging around, sitting and drinking water as they waited for someone to dismiss them.

“Ginny, Fred, George. . . Alicia, Angelina. . . Katie and Lee. . . could you all meet me over here for a moment?”

The group Harry called was beginning to form up, and Ron saw Hermione give Harry an inquisitive look. When the group formed a close circle, Harry spoke quietly but bluntly.

“Listen, me and Ron have been dueling, training I guess, much more than what we’re doing here. I thought of this group. . . I trust you all and we can have extra sessions to really train.”

There were hushed whispers of excitement, but Hermione cut through them, “That’s a good idea but I can’t help but see that all of us are—”

“Super tough?” Fred grinned.

“Gryffindors,” Hermione said seriously. “The others are already looking over here and it could hurt group cohesion if they think—”

“Look, we don’t know them that well,” Harry responded, “We’ll do some dueling next week and if we see promising duelers that we can trust we’ll bring them in, alright?”

“Let’s break off before they start asking,” Ron replied, keenly aware they were getting stares.

“We’ll set a time,” Hermione finished as the group broke off.

Ron took a seat next to Neville and Dean and found a drink of water as he caught his breath.

“What was that about?” Dean asked.

“Something Harry needed for next time,” Ron lied without looking Dean in the eyes.

“Hannah’s looking this way,” Neville pointed out with an embarrassed expression.

“Who?” Ron replied.

“Hannah Abbot. She’s a Hufflepuff. Pretty.”

Ron looked up and spotted the girl he had helped earlier gazing over to him. She quickly looked away as if she was never staring at all and Ron scrunched his face up.

“Why’s she staring over here?” he asked Neville, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it said anyway.

Dean leaned over and shook Ron’s shoulder, “I reckon she likes what she sees. Maybe she’s into ginger blokes.”

“Maybe. . . “ Neville started, but drifted off into silence.

“Go get her, mate,” Dean egged on, “Look, she’s staring!”

Ron locked eyes with her, but she swiftly looked away with a smile playing at her lips.

He stood. Ron knew he was acting out of spite. What did it mean to know your reason behind doing something was to get back at someone— but deciding to do it anyways?

Ron had built himself up for nearly four months waiting to confront Pansy. He needed to hear her voice. All that he had gotten for his efforts was bloody Ernire Macmillan.

Ron was done with Pansy. Wasn’t he?

So he stood, knowing exactly that what he was doing was wrong but doing it anyway because it felt good to get back at her. Dean let out a howl and Neville looked away with embarrassment.

Hannah was sitting next to Susan Bones and another Hufflepuff girl he did not recognize, but Ron hardly noticed or cared. As he approached her she took notice but it made no difference in his stride. He stopped when he was standing just above her and it was like some other person had taken control of his voice and body.

“You did great today,” Ron smiled.

Hannah stood up and tucked a tuft of blonde hair behind her ear. She looked up at him, pink-cheeked with a cute smile, “I had a great teacher. I was never very good with shielding charms.”

“There’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend right?” Ron asked sincerely.

Hannah’s face lit up like a firework and Ron could hear the audible gasps of her two friends who were still seated off to the side. Hannah spoke softly, “I-I think. . . yeah, I think—”

Ron cut her off, “Brillant. Want to come with me?” Hannah nodded and pressed her lips together. Ron grinned but his heart stayed still, “Great, it’s a date. I’ll meet you by carriages.”

It wasn’t long before the entire school was abuzz at the fact that Ron Weasley asked out Hannah Abbot. Ron, for his part, felt nothing.

When girls stared and pointed at him in the hallways, whispering to each other, Ron never noticed. Gryffindor blokes he knew slapped his back and said, “Good one, mate!” Ron never responded.

Harry had asked why he did it, and Ron just said he was feeling brave that day. Hermione was a bit stand-offish but Ron could tell she was giving her best attempt to mask her feelings. Ron should have felt guilt for the way he was making Hermione feel. Even if he had done nothing wrong, Ron wanted to respect her feelings. But he didn’t— something in him wasn’t working as it should and all of the stares and the rumors and the feelings did nothing.

Maybe Ron just needed to go on a date first. Then Ron would feel the feeling he was supposed to feel. It made complete sense when he did not think about it deeply.

When the Hogsmeade day finally arrived, Harry had the smarts to take Hermione along on a trip with Ginny and Luna. Ron thanked him as Harry was leaving in the morning. “Don’t mention it,” Harry gave him a cheeky grin, “Good luck with Hannah.”

As Ron made his way across the Gryffindor Common Room, his brothers were waiting for him.

“First a Slytherin,” George sang.

“Now a Hufflepuff,” Fred added.

“Next a Ravenclaw,” George replied.

“Last but not least, our Ronnie will come home. . .”

“To a Gryffindor!” Fred, George, and a few others bolted out together while laughing.

It should have made him mad, but Ron just laughed at them.

He made his way down to where the carriages waited for students. He finally spotted Hannah standing against the wall. She twirled her hair nervously and Ron was worried he’d have to do all of the talking.

“Hey, you look nice,” Ron said as he approached her. He didn’t know if they should hug or shake hands or if there was something else you did when greeting a girl you are taking on a date so Ron just pointed out a carriage, “How about that one?”

Hannah smiled and without a word they entered the carriage together. Ron paid the driver a few Galleons that he was given by Fred and George. “Treat the lady well!” Fred laughed.

“She’s no Gryffindor but a much more sensible pick than last time, Ronnie,” George said.

The horses started trotting quickly and the carriage was bumpy as it began moving. It took a moment but finally Hannah spoke, “The H.A. . . It's been really good. You three are great teachers.”

Ron grinned, “You really think so?”

“I’ve never. . . Defense was always a challenge. Lupin was the only year I really got better.”

Ron laughed, “Lockhart didn’t shape you into a master dueler?”

Hannah giggled. It was sweet and gentle but it felt unearned. On the carriage ride they talked about Ron’s family. Ron asked about her’s and learned about her parents and a younger brother who was a squib.

They strolled through the shops together. Hannah stayed close at his side and occasionally their arms pressed together. Ron looked down at her once and she gazed up to him with a smile.

She was pretty, wasn’t she? Any bloke would be lucky to be on a date with a pretty girl like Hannah. That meant Ron was lucky. So why didn’t he feel that way? He ignored the feeling. . . it would come eventually, he told himself.

In Honeydukes, Ron reached for salt-water taffy. “You like those?” Hannah asked curiously. She laughed again. “The salty taste really ruins it for me. Candy is supposed to be sweet, right?”

“You’re right,” Ron said as he picked up a package of apple rings instead, “Something sweet is probably better.”

Hannah smiled at that.

On their way to the Three Broomsticks to eat together, Ron felt their arms brush up against each other once again and he decided that enough was enough. With a bit of courage, Ron felt for her hand. Their fingers met and Ron felt her hand place itself gently within his.

She was walking closer to him, and Ron hoped that the spark would happen as they walked hand-in-hand, but it hadn’t done the trick.

Hannah ordered a stew and Ron got fish and chips. They talked more about their classes. Hannah asked a bit about how Harry was doing.

“We believe him. Me and Susan and the other Hufflepuffs. . .”

Ron gave a sincere grin, “You don’t know how much that means.”

Hannah reached across the table and squeezed his hand, “You're a good friend.”

On their way back to the carriages Ron had stopped her on a quiet path with tall trees all around. There were only a few Ravenclaws passing them and nobody else around.

Hannah looked up at him without any words. Ron knew what she was waiting for and he wanted to make that feeling happen for himself.

Ron gripped her waist. He could not feel her skin from underneath her winter robes. He gently brought her in close and Ron leaned down instinctively.

This was Ron’s first kiss and he was keen to get on with it.

When their lips met, Ron waited for the spark. He waited for the moment he would realize that a girl who supported Harry and would be on his side when the war came. . . that was the kind of girl Ron Weasley should be with. She was gentle and kind and supportive and everything you could want in a girlfriend. Ron’s mum would have told him that he made an excellent choice.

The spark never came. Maybe to Hannah it felt like a kiss, but to Ron it just felt like two pairs of lips meeting.

As Ron pulled away his heart sank seeing Hannah’s giddy grin flashing at him.

“We should do this again. The d-date, I mean, the kiss was nice and I’d—”

“Hannah,” Ron stopped her. He knew what he had to do. The respectful thing was to call it off and Ron knew that’s what he should do.

Ron gulped down. Something came over him. None of this was right. None of what he was feeling was right.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Hannah pounced on him, her arms clinging around his neck. Ron gripped her waist and Ron could smell her overly-fruity perfume.

Ron pulled her back and kissed her again.

Ron’s feelings were wrong. If his feelings would not cooperate with him, he would make them. In front of him was a perfectly lovely girl who ticked every box and Ron wasn’t going to let the lingering thoughts of someone, who he was definitely not thinking about while kissing Hannah, ruin it.

Ron might have felt nothing for Hannah Abbot at that moment. But her lips were soft and her smile was cute and Ron would find a way to fix how he was feeling and be happy with a girl who could be right for him.

“I’ll be your girlfriend, obviously,” Hannah giggled as she pulled him towards the carriages.

“Great,” Ron told her, “that’s just great.”

All of Hogwarts seemed to care very deeply about Ron’s love life.

“Had a good snog with Hannah today, Ronnie?” Fred and George would ask every time they saw him.

“”Hi Ron!” Hannah’s friends would approach him in the halls now as if they were suddenly the best of mates.

“Snuck her a love potion, did you Weasley?” Malfoy would taunt, having little effect on Ron.

Harry gave him a simple, “Nice going, mate.” After that, Hannah hardly ever came up when Ron talked with Harry or Hermione.

In truth, Ron really did not see Hannah all that much. A few times a day they would find each other in a quiet corner. She would stand on her toes and their kisses were pleasant but fast. She would ask about his day and Ron would complain about his classes.

“Study hard,” she would smile at him, “Don’t slack just because you have a girlfriend now.”

Once they had found themselves in a broom closet. Hannah’s hands brushed through his hair as they snogged and she talked to him quietly. It was nice, even a bit exciting, but Ron still hadn’t had that feeling he knew he was supposed to feel.

“That was fun,” Hannah said with one final kiss, “I know the H.A is tomorrow. . . maybe after we can do this—”

“Same spot?” Ron smiled, the guilt creeping in.

“Maybe this can be our spot?” Hannah smiled as she checked the hallways before darting out of the broom closet.

He would feel it soon. That’s what he told himself every day.

The next Hogwarts Army meeting was all about dueling. Four matches were held at the same time. Ron was paired off in a duel against Harry and most of the crowd had stopped to watch.

Ron defended himself from Harry’s typical onslaught. Harry had grown less recklessly aggressive and there was a better sense of purpose in his offense.

Ron’s shielding had continued to improve. Harry quickly launched a barrage of stunning spells and Ron matched his spells with a strong shielding spell.

The stunning spells cracked against the shield, but it did not break. There were cheers as Ron flung back a disarming charm— hoping to catch Harry off guard. He was ready, though. Harry blocked the charm and fired back one of his own. Ron sent a stunner and the two spells clashed between them to a flurry of excitement from the crowd.

After a heated back and forth, Harry finally landed a dizzying jinx and Ron came crashing to the floor, his wand falling out of reach.

There were cheers from both sides and Harry helped Ron up.

“Back to your duels,” Harry told everyone, “Don’t be afraid, you’ll never become a better dueler if either side is holding back.

Ron watched as Hermione easily took down Luna. Ron grinned at her and she gave him a weak smile in return. Ever since he had started to date Hannah, Hermione spent more time studying for her O.W.Ls than was healthy— even for her.

Susan dueled Hannah. It looked to be a bit of a match before Susan took over and hit Hannah with a disarming charm. “Good work you two, Hannah keep working on your shields,” Ron called out. Hannah came over and gave him a playful shove and Ron smiled.

George and Lee dueled, and neither held back. Half the room was watching when George hit Lee with a burping jinx and Lee belched so hard that he lost grip of his wand.

The lesson had gone smoothly. Harry had gathered Ron and Hermione. “Susan seems strong, maybe she can join us for advanced dueling?” Hermione said.

“She’ll tell Hannah, though,” Harry looked at Ron.

Ron shook his head, “That’s fine. Hannah will understand. Susan is strong and we can trust her.”

“Who else?” Hermione asked.

Ron looked over as Cedric was quickly disarmed by Fred without much of a fight.

“Anthony looked good,” Harry said.

“Cho Chang as well,” Ron added.

“We shouldn’t keep secrets,” Hermione told them, “We should just tell the group that strong duelers will be kept for an extra hour so they can match against equal opponents.”

“Fine with me,” Harry told her.

Harry made the announcement without really considering anyone’s feelings. There were some questioning looks but when the time came, the others had funneled out of the room. Hannah gave Ron a quick kiss, “Guess I’m not tough enough for the big leagues?”

Ron gave her a genuine laugh, “We’re only being fair.”

“I’m just taking the mickey,” she said, “Come find me in our spot after?”

Ron gave her a smile and she was off.

Less than half the group remained once the others had left. Cedric, who was not called on, stood at the exit before turning to the group.

“I want to duel.”

All eyes were on him, and it was Harry who spoke. “We had to pick the best of the best.”

“Please,” Cedric said, a pitiful look on his face, “I have to get better.”

Cho Chang stepped forward and moved next to Harry. “Cedric,” she started, “nobody here wants to see you get hurt.”

Cho and Cedric had broken up at some point, Ron never paid much attention to the rumor mill of Hogwarts but he had heard it enough times for him to know it was true.

Ron spoke up, “Cho’s right. We can’t hold anything back. We need to get better and you could get hurt.”

“Or worse,” Harry said, “Someone could go easy on you and never get any stronger.”

The Room of Requirement was quieter than Snape’s classroom during a test. After what felt like an entire minute, Hermione finally stepped forward.

“Cedric is a Tri-Wizard Champion, he’s the oldest here and he knows loads of spells we don’t,” she took a breath before looking at Cedric, “If you do this, we can’t promise you won’t get hurt.”

“Fair,” Cedric murmured, “Don’t go easy on me.”

Dueling people other than Harry, Ron realized how much he had grown since the start of the year. He took on Lee and Susan without any issues. Fred was tough. Ron nearly went down when Fred hit Ron with a reversing jinx. But Ron shielded himself long enough for the jinx to wear off and he was able to thread a disarming charm through Fred’s volley of jinxes.

Fred’s wand hit the floor with a distinct clink and George was the first to let out a howl. “Little Ronnie! C’mon, Fred! You let him get you like that?”

Fred seemed a bit frustrated, but he played it off, “He’s a tough little bugger, that’s for sure.”

While Ron was cooling off, Ron watched Cedric hit the ground from one of Anthony’s stunning spells. Nobody said much, but Cedric managed to pull himself off the ground.

Ginny dueled Hermione and it was Ginny who came out on top. They dueled again and Hermione adjusted her strategy and took Ginny down quickly during their second round. Ron dueled Ginny next and even though Ron won, his little sister surprised him with just how strong her jinxes were.

Ron dueled again with Fred, this time losing to a tripping jinx. Harry and Ron dueled a few more times. Ron got a single win in and that felt like an accomplishment for the day. He dueled Anthony and was surprised at his arsenal of spells. Susan wanted a rematch and Ron won easily again.

“We went an hour over,” Hermione panicked, calling everyone’s attention, “Prefects might even have started patrol. Someone needs to check the hallways so we can scatter without getting caught together.”

Ron volunteered. 

He pressed his hands against the wooden doors and they creaked open revealing the dimly lit hallways of the fifth floor. He poked his head towards each direction. The hallways seemed clear.

He quietly stepped out into the hallway but noticed a corner not too far from him. He stepped towards it as quietly as he could. The doors of the Room of Requirement were only slightly ajar and everyone inside was waiting on the signal.

Ron’s heart was pounding but when he peered past the corner he felt a wave of relief seeing that the long corridor was empty.

He turned around only to be met with Pansy Parkinson. She was standing between him and the door to the Room of Requirement.

The dim light of the corridor revealed her Inquisitor badge placed over where her Slytherin crest was on her robe. The warm, dim light of a nearby torch rested on her porcelain skin and her black hair was longer than Ron had ever seen it.

Pansy stared at him. He could tell exactly what she was feeling. Pansy was fighting every urge not to open her mouth and speak. Her words never formed and what she would have said remained a mystery.

Pansy gazed over to the door and then back to Ron. She was keeping her face free of emotion, but Ron knew she was holding something back.

Then, she started walking towards him. Pansy stopped and she stood next to him but was gazing down the long corridor behind him.

Ron turned his head to stare down at her. Ron had grown again since the last time they were this close and he had to strain a bit to look at her.

Pansy looked up at him. It was a moment that felt like forever. Pansy did not speak, and neither did Ron.

Her grey eyes met his. She pressed her lips together and looked away from him after a moment that went on too long between them.

Without a world, Pansy walked slowly down the corridor and away from him.

Ron knew that tomorrow he would be breaking up with Hannah Abbot.