Wizarding Archaeology Today

Wizarding Archaeology Today

"Oh come on, Pansy. Where's your sense of adventure?"

Pansy gave Ginny a disdainful look. "Oh, so sorry," she drawled. "I left it behind in the pocket of my other cloak."

"But it'll be fun!" Ginny cajoled, with an enthusiastic sparkle in her eyes.

"I hardly think so," Pansy replied in a bored tone, flipping through her copy of Wizarding Archaeology Today.

Ginny was about to try again, when the third occupant of the room spoke up. "Ginny," she chided, "don't pester her. She's probably just worried that she'll be awkward and out of place."

Pansy gave Hermione a narrow-eyed look. Awkward? Out of place? They would see about that! She stood up, dropping her magazine on the table. "I'll see you two on Friday," she snapped, striding out of the room.

Ginny and Hermione exchanged a cautiously victorious look as soon as she was gone.

***

Ron took a swig from the flask of Firewhiskey. It was pathetic. Reduced to hiding under the stairs in his own home. He never should have agreed to this. This was a bachelor establishment, damn it! It was not right that his home should be full of witches. Having a pretty witch over once in a while was one thing. This was entirely different. His home was overrun! It seemed like the entire place was swarming with witches. They were rushing hither and yon, giggling and chattering, frantically getting ready for the party.

He hadn't wanted to agree when Ginny asked if they could all get ready at his place, but Ginny had simply overridden all his protests. Rather than earn yet another lecture about his house being far too large and empty for a single wizard, he'd given in. He got enough lectures from his sister already.

He didn't know why it bothered her so much. There was nothing wrong with having a big, empty house to yourself. For most of his life, he'd lived in the Burrow, surrounded by a loud, boisterous family. He was tired of it. Once he'd finished his curse-breaker's apprenticeship and could go out in the field on his own, he'd taken every difficult, dangerous job he'd been able to get. They paid the best, and often included hefty bonuses, as well. As soon as he'd saved enough money, he'd bought himself a big house of his own. He quite liked the fact that the large rooms were empty and silent most of the time.

Although he admitted that it would be rather nice to have a special witch to share his cavernous, silent rooms with him. It had been a bit lonely lately. His last girlfriend had stormed off in a snit because she hadn't liked the way he constantly went gallivanting around the world. He had invited her along, but a disastrous trip to Tibet to remove a curse from a temple statue had simply been the final straw as far as she'd been concerned.

Ah well. He consoled himself with the thought that he didn't have to listen to her constant complaining and endless chatter anymore. She hadn't even liked Quidditch, the daft cow!

Ron was roused out of his reflections by the excited exclamations heralding another new arrival. He leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Splendid. One more witch to contend with. Morosely, he took another swig from his flask and sighed heavily. Soon, he'd have to come out of hiding and be sociable. If only he could stay hidden under the stairs for the rest of the night. Ginny would never let him get away with that, though. She was determined to drag him to this party whether he wanted to go or not. She had even arranged a date for him, he remembered with a grimace. He decided he'd best prepare to crawl out from under the stairs when nobody was paying attention. It wouldn't do for anybody to know where his hiding spot was. Feeling resigned, he opened his eyes.

Ron couldn't see anything other than a pair of legs. Of course he could have seen something else. All he had to do was tilt his head to the side slightly to see around them. They weren't particularly fat legs or anything like that. It would hardly take any effort at all. But really, only a madman would voluntarily tear his gaze away from such a sight.

Ron was no madman. So, all he could see was a pair of legs. And what a pair of legs. Not excessively long. The witch they belonged to obviously wasn't all that tall. But they were definitely long enough to give rise to all kinds of naughty thoughts. Shapely calves were accentuated by the high heeled, black-patent, strappy sandals she wore. His eyes travelled upwards. The legs were not skinny, but not too fat. They were quite nicely proportioned and curvy, encased in sheer, black, silky stockings. He could feel his hands literally start itching to touch those legs.

He wondered whether he would get kicked in the face if he reached out to stroke them, or whether he'd be able to dodge out of the way quickly enough to avoid injury. The mind that played chess so brilliantly began calculating his chances. From his vantage point, he could just barely catch a glimpse of the lacy tops of her stockings when her short skirt rode up slightly. He leant forward. A witch who actually wore stockings! He had a secret weakness for them. Stockings were so superior to pantyhose in every way that there was no comparison. Ron would willingly give up his subscription to Quidditch Illustrated for the chance to meet a witch who liked to wear stockings. Especially if she had legs like the ones filling his field of vision at that moment.

He bit his lip. What to do? What to do? He didn't want to let this one get away without finding out who she was. The muscles in the shapely leg closest to him flexed as his mystery witch shifted position slightly. Unconsciously, Ron leant forward a bit more, the urge to reach out and touch getting stronger by the second.

Already distracted and off balance, he was taken by surprise when the witch suddenly took a step closer to the stairs to dodge out of somebody's way. He tried to pull back, but his reflexes were slowed by the Firewhiskey he'd had. He lost his balance completely and tumbled out from under the stairs, sprawling at her feet.

He caught another glimpse of the lacy tops of her stockings as the witch jumped out of the way with a surprised exclamation and spun around to face him.

Ron's eyes slowly travelled upwards, over those glorious legs, past the hem of her skirt, ever onwards, pausing briefly at the curve of her hips and once again at her full breasts. Her silky, dark red dress hugged her body closely. The thin, beaded straps holding it up looked fragile enough to make a wizard optimistically think that they could give way at any moment. He dragged his eyes up a little higher and found himself looking at a familiar, fair-skinned, snub-nosed face surrounded by silky, black hair.

Ron's jaw dropped as he stared up at her. He finally found his voice. "Parkinson?" he gasped, completely gobsmacked. "Merlin! If I'd known you had a figure like that under your robes, I would have made a move on you when we were still at Hogwarts!"

"Weasley!" she spat. "As if I ever would have given you the time of day. What are you doing, hiding under the stairs? Trying to ogle unsuspecting witches on the sly?"

Ron scrambled to his feet so that Pansy had to tip her head back to look him in the eye. He noticed that her eyes were an interesting, light, blue-ish green. He thought her eyes were rather pretty, even with the unpleasant scowl marring her features.

"No, Parkinson," he retorted, brushing himself off. "For your information, I don't have to ogle witches on the sly. There are plenty of witches who like it when I ogle them."

"I'm sure," Pansy drawled, disbelievingly. Her eyes swept over him. "What are you doing here at all? I thought all the wizards were arriving later."

"I live here, Parkinson. This is my home you lot have invaded," Ron said coolly, matching her glare for glare. He would not be intimidated by her disdainful looks anymore. Like his dress robes, his formal suit was of the highest quality. All right, maybe he couldn't afford extravagances like this all that often, but there would be no more second-hand clothes for him. Parkinson could turn up that little, snub nose if she wanted, but he knew there was nothing in his appearance to be ashamed of. Actually he thought his tall, rangy frame looked rather good in a dinner jacket and tailored trousers.

"You live here?" Pansy asked. "Well, you have come up in the world, haven't you?" she commented with a delicate sneer.

Ginny bustled up to them, forestalling Ron's retort. "There you are Ron! I've been looking for you all over!" Ron manfully ignored Pansy's amused expression and turned his attention to his sister. Ginny noticed his companion and beamed at them. "Oh good! You've both met your dates, already!" She reached out and straightened Ron's bow tie, which had been knocked askew. "You can keep Pansy entertained while the rest of us finish getting ready." She winked mischievously. "Don't get too much of a head start partying, you two."

Pansy stared at Ginny, completely speechless. Ron was her date for the evening? She glanced at Ron and her stomach seemed to flip over. She didn't trust the wide smile that slowly appeared on his face. Why in the world did he look so happy? The last she'd heard, he heartily despised her.

"Well, I'm going to help Millie get ready," Ginny said, brightly. "The last time I saw her, Hermione was fussing over her hair, and Millie looked like she was about to commit murder. We can't have a Hit Wizard raid ruining our fun, can we?" She turned and darted away, leaving Pansy gaping after her.

"So, you're my date for the evening," Ron said, rocking back on his heels, still with the daft grin on his face. He held out his arm to her. When she didn't react, he grabbed her nerveless hand and wrapped it around his upper arm, holding it in place with his other hand. "Would you like the five-Knut tour?" he asked, gently tugging her along as he began walking down the hall.

***

Pansy was in a state of total confusion. Ron had spent the past twenty minutes showing her around his home. Contrary to all her expectations, he had not only been attentive, he'd been friendly and entertaining. If she didn't know better, she'd think he had been trying to charm her. In fact, when he'd shown her the master bedroom, dominated by the huge iron bed, she almost could have sworn that she saw a certain glint in his eyes.

But of course that was rot. This was Ron Weasley. They'd always been enemies, if only because of her association with Draco Malfoy. He was obviously up to something. She would just have to keep her guard up, that was all.

What was he doing with that over-sized, iron bed anyway? He lived alone, didn't he? Pansy gave him a sidelong look. A bed like that was simply wasted on him. Wasn't it?

They ended up back in the entrance hall, where a sizeable group had gathered. Witches in brightly coloured gowns and wizards in Muggle formal-wear were standing in small groups, chatting with each other. A number of wizards were sitting on the stairs, laughing and talking. A cluster of witches stood nearby, giggling and twittering to each other, while throwing frequent looks at the wizards posing and preening for them on the stairs. It reminded Ron of a Benu mating dance he'd once seen. True, the large, gangly birds had been slightly more active, but even so, the resemblance was uncanny.

"They look just like Benu," Pansy murmured.

Ron felt his heart skip a beat. Great legs, an outstanding figure, stockings... and a mind that worked the same way his did. What were the chances? All right, they'd gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, what with him falling out from under the stairs and blurting out the first thing that popped into his head. He couldn't blame her for reacting the way she had. But he was starting to feel more optimistic. Surely she was starting to warm up to him, now.

Pansy saw the slow smile that crept over Ron's face and, once again, wondered what he was up to. Part of her brain kept worrying over the problem of Ron Weasley's strange behaviour, even when her attention was captured by Ginny, who had eased her way through the crowd and was now standing near the top of the stairs, where everybody could see her clearly. Pansy felt Ron tensing up and glanced at him. She smirked at the dark look he was giving the wizards who lounged at Ginny's feet, looking up at the attractive, shapely redhead, admiringly. When she found herself thinking that Ron's brotherly protectiveness was very cute, she took herself firmly in hand. Cute? Hah! Ginny wasn't a child who needed an older brother to take care of her. Ron's overprotectiveness was positively barbaric, that's what it was. Pansy sniffed disdainfully. No doubt, the great lummox would charge up the stairs and attack one of them before too long.

"I'd like everybody's attention, please," Ginny said, loudly. The laughing and talking died down until everybody was looking at Ginny expectantly. "Right! We're finally ready to leave. I'd like to thank everybody who came tonight," she said with a brilliant smile. "This will be much more fun with such a large group." She paused and grinned as she looked around at the crowd gathered in the entrance hall.

"How are we getting there?" one of the wizards lounging at her feet, asked.

"We'll all be apparating to the Pucey manor house, which is not far from our destination. There will be limousines waiting there to drive us to the party." She gave them an expectant look. "So, those of you who aren't used to travelling in a Muggle automobile, will have a new experience tonight."

There were loud groans from scattered individuals around the room.

"Now, everybody remember!" Ginny said loudly, to be heard over the theatrical groans. "This is a Muggle party, so there will be no magic. Quite a few of the Muggles at the party already know about wizards because they have relatives at Hogwarts or have married into wizarding families, but it's likely that at least some of them don't know about us, so be careful. Keep your wands hidden and definitely don't perform any magic where somebody can see you. In fact, it's probably best if you don't perform any magic at all, while you're at the party."

***

Ron looked around the crowded room, feeling a bit bored. He didn't know what was so great about Muggle parties. This looked pretty much like every boring wizarding party he'd ever gone to, minus the magical entertainment and fairy lights. Muggles had something they called fairy lights, but Ron couldn't see any fairies anywhere so he had no idea what they were on about.

He watched a few couples dance past him, and shook his head. If he'd wanted to dance, he could have gone to a wizarding party. At least then he could have apparated there and back again, instead of wasting time with a limousine.

"I thought your sister said this would be fun," said a disgruntled voice from the vicinity of his shoulder.

Ron looked down at Pansy. She looked just as bored as he felt. "It is fun! Don't you enjoy seeing how Muggles do things?"

Pansy gave him a look that said she thought he was barmy. "As far as I can see, they do things the same we do them... only without magic," she said, quietly. Ron had to bend down quite a bit to hear her. Surrounded by the large, boisterous crowd and with the band playing loudly to be heard over the many laughing chattering voices, there wasn't much chance that they would be overheard... but it was best to be careful, anyway.

Ron turned his head so his mouth was quite close to her ear - he took the policy of wizarding secrecy very seriously, after all - and asked, "Do you want to add a little spice to the evening?"

"Add a little spice to the evening?" she parroted back. Inexplicably, her heart sped up at the question. "How do you plan to add spice to the evening?" she asked, suspiciously.

Pansy stepped away from him slightly. It wasn't because he unsettled her or any kind of foolishness like that. She just didn't think it was wise to be so close to him. That bint, Lavender Brown, was around somewhere and everybody knew what an inveterate gossip she was. Now that she was writing the society column for the Prophet, nobody was safe.

Ron took a step closer again, and leant down to say, "Why don't we try to mingle with some of these Muggles?"

Pansy looked up at him blankly. "That's your idea?" she asked. "You want to spice up our evening by mingling? With them?"

"Sure. Think of the challenge," Ron said. "Trying to pass as Muggles. Trying to fit in... We've both grown up in the wizarding world. Do you think we can do it?"

"I can do anything I want, Weasley. Anything," Pansy said, tossing her head defiantly. "Furthermore, I don't feel the least bit awkward or out of place," Pansy stated, lifting her chin challengingly.

Ron's eyebrows twitched up in mild surprise at this outburst. "I don't expect there's much that can make you feel awkward or out of place, Pansy."

Had that been a compliment? Pansy looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Once again, he had managed to disconcert her. She latched onto the one thing in his statement that she could criticise. "Did I say you could address me by my first name?" she asked, pursing her lips disapprovingly.

Ron's eyes focused on her full, pursed lips and he leant even closer with a lazy smile. "I think it's all right for us to be on a first-name basis. You are my date, Pansy," he said, putting extra emphasis on her name and drawing it out slowly.

Pansy flushed and looked away from him. When she'd been a little girl, she had liked her name. That had been before she'd grown up... when she could still pretend that she was Princess Pansy, waiting for her dashing Black Knight to ride over the crest of the hill to kick that irritating, smarmy White Knight's arse and sweep her up and away on some grand adventure. Later on, she had come to despise her name, wishing for something more authoritative, something that would make people take her seriously. She had decided that Pansy was a childish, wishy-washy name.

Only, when Ron drew out her name like that in his low, deep voice, it didn't sound childish or fanciful or any of the things she despised; it sounded alluring. It sounded like thick, rich toffee on his tongue. It sounded... Dear sweet Circe, it sounded sexy. Pansy stiffened her spine. This wasn't her Black Knight. This wasn't even the smarmy White Knight. This was Weasley! He had absolutely no business sounding sexy. None at all.

"Pansy," Ron murmured, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder.

Pansy looked up into his eyes and he forgot what he was going to say, simply standing and staring at her like a moonstruck calf. He tried to shake himself out of his bemusement. This was getting ridiculous. A fine pair of legs and a gorgeous body shouldn't be having this kind of effect on him, no matter how nicely they were packaged up. Especially not when it was Pansy Parkinson. Had somebody slipped something into his flask without his knowledge?

Ron heard a loud burst of laughter nearby and turned to look, grateful for a distraction. There was Adrian Pucey in the midst of a crowd of Muggles. They were all laughing about something he had just said, and a few of them looked like they were teasing him. For somebody who had almost refused to come along, he was sure getting into the spirit of things. Two of the Muggles grabbed him by the arms and began dragging him toward the dais where the band was playing, whilst the rest followed behind, calling out encouragement. Adrian was shaking his head and making laughing protests, but he went along with them. In a few moments, they had Adrian on the dais with a microphone in front of him.

"How do you make this work?" Adrian asked, looking at the microphone. "Oh. Hullo. It looks like it's already working." He surveyed the audience, smiling crookedly. His face looked flushed and he seemed to be a bit unsteady on his feet. Ron wondered how much Adrian had already had to drink that evening. Maybe he had a flask of Firewhiskey in his pocket. Or perhaps he'd settled for some Muggle Scotch. "Ah well... Umm... Millie? Are you out there?" he asked, squinting to see past the bright lights that were blinding him. There was a commotion on the dance floor as Millie was pushed to the front of the crowd by her friends.

Ron thought Millie looked as though she'd like to hex somebody if only she thought she could get away with it. The tall, statuesque witch had a thunderous expression on her face. She crossed her arms over her ample chest and glared up at Adrian.

Adrian looked down at her with a slightly dazed, but still completely besotted expression on his face. "Millie, you are the most magnificent wi... err... woman I have ever met. I don't know of anybody else who can hold her own in a fight the way you can. Or who can ride a br... Err... scratch that. I don't know anybody else as good at curs... Oh, bugger it. I love you Millie. I love you more than... than... anything or anybody in the world."

Ron shot another look at Millie when he heard this unexpected declaration. She looked completely thunderstruck. Adrian jumped off the dais and came teetering to a stop in front of her.

"Not the most romantic declaration, but then Adrian never did do anything conventionally," Pansy murmured. "And he should get credit for his sheer bravado, even if his delivery was a bit sloppy."

Ron gave her a sidelong look. "Not much for public proclamations of love, are you?"

"Ron, he's drunk," she whispered, giving Ron a little shiver when she said his name. "Did you hear the number of times he almost slipped up? We almost ended up having to Obliviate half the room. And how romantic is a drunken declaration of love, anyway? Will he say the same thing when he's sober? That's what I'd like to know." She looked at the couple, now kissing passionately in the middle of the dance floor. "They do look rather nice together, though. Don't they?" she commented sounding a bit wistful.

"Without a doubt," Ron said, keeping his eyes on Pansy. He was fast losing interest in the other couple. It wasn't as though they were his friends or anything. On the other hand, they were giving him some ideas involving the witch standing next to him. "D'you want to get something to eat? I saw a buffet table by those windows over there."

Pansy tore her eyes away from her friends. "Sure. That sounds all right."

They strolled to the buffet table, chatting desultorily about the weather and England's chances of making it to the Quidditch World Cup finals. Ron racked his brain, trying to think of something more interesting to talk about. The way things were going, he'd never find a way to get Pansy out on a date.

"So, what are you doing at a Muggle party with a Weasley, anyway?" Ron asked. "I thought you'd be married to some rich wizard and throwing stuffy, highbrow parties of your own." He tried to dredge up some of the gossip that Ginny had told him about Pansy, but he didn't remember much, other than some tidbits about an engagement. Truth be told, he rarely paid attention when his sister droned on about her friends. He only remembered some of her comments about Pansy because he'd been so amazed when they'd struck up a friendship.

"I'm a working witch, now," she said with a toss of her head. "An independent witch and that suits me right down to the ground."

Ron smirked. "It didn't work out with that twat, Bletchley, did it?"

"He didn't like my choice of career so I sent him packing," Pansy said, with a martial gleam in her eyes.

Ron reached for a puff pastry. "Oh really? What kind of job do you have?" he asked, not really caring, but not wanting to stand there as dumb as a post either. She was probably the head of some obscure charity, or something else suitable for a high-society witch. He was just trying to fill in the silence until he thought of something else to talk about.

"I deal in magical artefacts," Pansy informed him. "Miles didn't like all the travelling I have to do. He also thought it was risky since many old artefacts are cursed." Pansy shrugged. "He gave me an ultimatum. I don't much like ultimatums."

Ron froze with the pastry half-way to his mouth. "You deal in magical artefacts?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes. That's what I just told you," she said, impatiently.

He blinked, lowering the pastry again. "And you travel?" he asked.

Pansy frowned at him. "Yes. I just said Miles didn't like all the travelling I do. Logic dictates that I must, therefore, do a lot of travelling."

"Where?" Ron asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Pansy gave him an odd look. "All over the world. North and South America. There are quite a few magical artefacts there, you know. Thailand, Egypt, Turkey, Finland, Sweden... all over."

Ron couldn't believe it. A witch who travelled and dealt in magical artefacts? One who didn't mind going to strange, exotic locales on the trail of magical objects - even ones that might be cursed? Pansy Parkinson actually had good points, other than her magnificent legs and voluptuous figure? This was an opportunity that was not to be missed!

Ron quickly disposed of the inconvenient pastry by tossing it under the table and wiped his fingers on a serviette, which followed the pastry.

"Why don't we take a little stroll on the terrace?" He cupped his hand around Pansy's elbow and began steering her toward the French doors, looking for some privacy so he could properly chat her up. "What kind of magical artefacts do you deal in?" Ron asked, casually.

Pansy shook off his hand and came to a stop. "Not dark artefacts. I don't import or sell anything else illegal, either," she snapped, crossing her arms and glowering at him as though he had actually accused her of doing those things.

His eyebrows shot up. "I don't recall saying you did," he said, trying not to sound annoyed. "I was just curious."

Pansy regarded him suspiciously, but started moving again when Ron placed a hand at the small of her back to urge her along. "I deal in all sorts of artefacts," she said, stiffly. "Jewellery, mirrors, books, paintings... Anything really." She glanced at him sidelong. "Except for dark artefacts," she added, defensively.

"Not one of those dodgy Slytherins one hears about all the time, eh?" he said with a chuckle.

Pansy came to an abrupt halt, spinning around to glare at him. "I knew it!" she hissed. "You're just hoping I'll slip up and say something to incriminate myself. You still think I deal in dark artefacts."

A muscle started jumping in Ron's jaw. "I didn't say I think that," he said, through clenched teeth.

Pansy sniffed, indignantly. "You don't have to. I know what you think. You've always despised Slytherins. You might have a lovely house and beautifully tailored clothes now, but I doubt you've changed." She raised her chin combatively. "It doesn't matter what you think about me," she said, her voice wobbling only the tiniest bit at the end. "Your opinion doesn't mean anything at all."

Pansy felt a light touch on her arm and turned around to find Connor Warrington smiling down at her. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

"No," Ron snapped, with a scowl.

"Yes," Pansy said, with a toss of her head. She pointedly refused to look at Ron as Connor led her into the dance.

Ron glared at the attractive couple as they waltzed farther and farther away from him. What had put Pansy into such a snit? Making a sudden decision, he marched out onto the dance floor.

Connor felt a tap on his shoulder and came to a stop, turning his head to see who wanted his attention. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry when he saw Ron Weasley glowering at him.

"May I cut in?" Ron asked, tersely.

"No!" Pansy hissed.

Connor looked from Ron's narrow-eyed, tense expression to Pansy's red, angry face. He turned back to Ron with a smirk. "Be my guest," he said, stepping back from the dark-haired witch. The fierce scowl Pansy turned on him promised dire retribution, eliciting a chuckle from the tall wizard. "I'll just go see if Madley or Granger would like to dance," he said, to nobody in particular. With that, he turned and sauntered away, still chuckling to himself.

Pansy turned to walk off the dance floor, but a strong arm wrapped around her waist, swinging her back into the dance. She stumbled, coming to rest against Ron's chest and pulled back with an indignant huff, glaring up at him.

"I don't want to dance with you, Weasley," she snapped.

"Fine then, we'll go outside, instead," he said, unceremoniously pulling her through one of the French doors and out onto the terrace. This had been his original objective before Pansy had gotten so brassed off, but now he wasn't sure it was such a good idea. Especially given the temperature outside.

"It's cold out here!" Ron exclaimed in irritation.

"It's winter," Pansy pointed out, snippily.

"I know but..."

"We're at a Muggle party," she reminded him, snidely. "They don't have heating charms."

Ron took a deep breath, reminding himself that snapping at her wouldn't help. He didn't know what had happened. He had thought they were getting along fine and then she'd just gone mental. He noticed Pansy shivering in the cold gust of wind that curled around the corner of the building and took his dinner jacket off, to drape it over her shoulders. Birds liked it when a bloke did that sort of thing, didn't they? Maybe it would help thaw her out a little.

"D'you want to go back inside?" Ron asked.

"Not quite yet," Pansy replied. She gave him a sidelong look. "Unless you're too cold," she said, with a hint of challenge in her voice.

"Oh no," Ron denied, stoically. "Not cold at all." He put his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Why don't we walk a little?" he suggested.

Pansy kept her gaze averted from him as she slipped her arms into the sleeves of his jacket. She shrugged her shoulders and pulled the edges of the jacket closer together. "Fine," she said, shortly.

The strolled slowly along the edge of the terrace, Pansy brooding and Ron occasionally shivering when a gust of wind hit him.

Pansy abruptly stopped walking and turned toward him. She glared at him through narrowed eyes and stuck her chin out, pugnaciously. "What are you up to, Weasley?" she demanded.

Ron, who had been contemplating how nice Pansy looked in her stockings and little red dress - and how much better she'd look minus the little red dress - looked at her blankly. "What?" he asked, sounding a bit like he'd just received a heavy clout to the head.

"Don't try to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Pansy snapped. "I know you're up to something. You might as well tell me what it is."

Ron was completely baffled. He looked at her warily, trying to figure out what she was going on about. He made an effort to concentrate on what she was saying, but it was hard to do when he kept getting distracted by the little glimpses of her heaving chest that he could see through the opening of his jacket.

"What makes you think I'm up to something?" he asked, hoping that this would all start to make some sort of sense if she just kept talking.

Pansy made an indignant noise that sounded like a cross between a whistling tea kettle and an agitated chicken. "Oh, let's see... what could have given it away?" she asked, sarcastically. She began counting off her points on her fingers as she continued to rant. "One: There's the shifty way you were skulking about under the stairs in your own home."

True, that probably had looked a bit odd. But he wouldn't have gotten such an excellent view of her legs otherwise... so he couldn't very well say he regretted it, could he?

"Two: You looked so happy when you found out that I was your date," she said, fiercely.

Damning evidence, indeed, Ron thought to himself, barely refraining from rolling his eyes.

Pansy wasn't finished yet. "Three: You were so nice to me - acting all friendly and charming while you showed me around your home," she spat out.

What? What was suspicious about that, for the love of Merlin? He was just... Wait a minute... Pansy thought he was charming?

"Four: You asked all those questions about my work, as though you were actually interested."

He was interested! Why was that so hard to believe?

"Five: You gave me your jacket so I wouldn't get cold!" she said, sounding as though she had just presented incontrovertible proof that he was planning something nefarious. She took a step closer to him, reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt in a small fist, pulling him down slightly so she could glare directly into his eyes. "Now, tell me what you're up to," she said, in a low, dangerous tone.

Ron just stared at her for a long moment wondering if she was completely off her trolley. Then he decided he didn't care. Half the people in his family were nutters anyway, and it would take somebody a little bit crazy to willingly put up with the twins and their jokes, not to mention that prat, Percy.

Ron's arms suddenly wrapped around her. Pansy didn't have a chance to utter more than a startled squeak before his mouth covered hers in a hard kiss.

Pansy's first, instinctive reaction was to stiffen up, but she wasn't a witch to let surprise get the better of her for very long. Ron was surprised - albeit very, very pleased - when Pansy's arms wound around his neck and pulled him close. The kiss heated up more quickly than he ever could have dreamt when Pansy started kissing him back with a fierceness that left him feeling breathless and light-headed. He didn't know how long the kiss lasted, but it seemed to go on forever, both of them struggling for dominance as they each tried to pull the other one closer.

However, like all good things, their kiss had to come to an end, if only because Ron quite simply couldn't breathe anymore. He dragged his mouth away from hers, gasping for air. Obviously, his impulsive decision to kiss Pansy Parkinson was one of the best choices he'd ever made. The end result was proof that, sometimes, too much planning was just a waste of time. Too much planning turned you into a dotty, plodding bore. You only had to look at Hermione if you didn't believe that. Being impulsive, on the other hand... Ah yes, being impulsive came with all kinds of wonderful rewards... A sweet armful like Pansy, for instance. One of his hands slid down to the small of her back to pull her snug against him. Her soft, curvy body felt every bit as good as he'd imagined. Possibly even better. Unable to resist, he bent down to kiss her again, but this time, it wasn't a hard, ravenous kiss like the last one had been. This time it was a slow, wet kiss that made his nerve-endings hum. Ron felt that he could go on kissing Pansy for hours. Maybe he would just do that. This was a much better way to spice up the evening than mingling, wasn't it? Pansy must have thought so too; she seemed to be enjoying it just as much as he was.

Pansy was struggling just to think coherently. It was a monumental effort, but she finally gathered together some miniscule semblance of control. She finally pushed him away enough that she could speak. "What was that all about?" she asked. She silently berated herself for sounding so breathless and... girly when she'd fully intended to sound like an angry Harpy who was out for blood.

"You wanted to know what I was up to," Ron said, sounding more than a little breathless himself. "Now you know." He tried to pull her close for another kiss, but she braced her arms on his chest to keep him at a distance.

"Wait!" she said. "You expect me to believe that you've been acting the way you have because you wanted to kiss me?" Pansy tried to pull away from him, but Ron still had one arm firmly wrapped around her waist and the other hand came up to keep her small hands pressed firmly against his chest.

"I'd like to do a lot more than just kiss you," Ron said, "but I thought it was a good start."

"Oh, that's so much more believable," Pansy scoffed, trying to ignore the fact that she could feel the thudding of Ron's heart under her hands. "We've never exactly been friends, have we? I haven't even seen you since we were at Hogwarts... and you can't say you liked me back then."

Ron straightened up and gave her a narrow-eyed look. "Yes well... it's hard to like somebody who's making fun of your shabby clothes all the time," he pointed out.

"It's hard to like somebody who calls you 'Pansy the Pug'," Pansy rejoined with an angry flash in her eyes.

Ron paused. She had a point. He'd given as good as he'd gotten, hadn't he? "Well, there you go," he said with a grin. "We're even. So there's no problem starting over again." He bent down to nuzzle the curve of her cheek before beginning to deposit a trail of kisses from her cheek down to her soft, pouty mouth.

"Wait! I don't understand!" Pansy exclaimed in frustration. "Why are you suddenly interested in me?" She twisted her head to the side before his mouth could cover hers again. She hated having to admit that she felt out of her depth and the feel of Ron's mouth teasing her lips made it too difficult to focus. Of course, it didn't help her think any more clearly when Ron's teeth lightly closed on her earlobe, instead.

Ron didn't answer her question directly. He pulled back slightly, with a small sigh, and looked down at her. "You know," he said, casually, "the life of a curse-breaker can be a lonely one. I travel a lot. I'm always dealing with strange, cursed objects. Tramping through ancient, bug-infested tombs and temples. There aren't that many witches who are willing to put up with my lifestyle." Pansy looked up at him with wide, blue-green eyes and he almost lost his train of thought. "It would be nice to find a witch who could share all that with me," he finally said, in a near whisper.

Pansy looked searchingly into his eyes. Could he be telling the truth? "Is that why you seemed so happy to be my date tonight? Because you thought I might be willing to share your lifestyle?"

"No. I didn't know about your career until later," he reminded her. "I was happy to be your date tonight because you have glorious legs and you wear stockings. Even before I fell out from under the stairs I wanted to meet you," Ron admitted with a cheeky grin. "Your sense of adventure has turned out to be a very nice bonus."

Pansy gave him an indignant look, but she couldn't maintain it in the face of his infectious smile. She considered him carefully. She would have to watch this one if she did end up getting involved with him. He probably used that open, innocent expression and inviting smile to get away with all kinds of things. She wouldn't be able to let her guard down for a minute, or he'd have her wrapped around his little finger in no time, cooing and fawning over him like that disgusting, clingy Patil bint. Pansy Parkinson did not coo or cling. Ever.

She bit her lip in unaccustomed indecision, weighing the pros and cons of going out with Ron. On the one hand, he was a successful curse-breaker who enjoyed travelling and adventure. He wouldn't be fazed by her career. He might even be interested in helping her sometimes, she thought, romantic visions of the two of them exploring a dark, dank tomb together dancing in her head.

On the other hand, he was a Weasley. Sure, she was friends with Ginny, but that didn't mean she wanted to get involved with any of her brothers. Even if that Bill fellow was rather attractive. The one date she'd had with him had been a dismal failure, though. It just went to show you that there was more to chemistry than good looks.

It was galling to Pansy that she had the opposite problem with Ron. There was too much chemistry. He made her feel like the ground was shifting underneath her. She felt confused, troubled, hot, bothered... Hot. Now there was an understatement.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not for Pansy. She liked to stay calm, unruffled, collected. Pansy was always the one who had the advantage, because she could stay cool and remote. How could she keep the advantage when Ron made her lose her cool, completely?

Ron watched the expressions flit over her face and bent down to lightly rest his forehead against hers. "You know what happens to people who think too much?"

"No. What?" Pansy asked, warily.

"They become as dull as ditchwater. End up living alone, surrounded by cats, combing the Prophet for interesting gossip instead of living life."

Pansy reared back, slightly. "I'm not dull," she said, eyes flashing.

"I'm glad to hear it," Ron said, releasing her hands so he could run his hand up and down her back. "So, why not do something a little impulsive? Visit Morocco with me."

"Morocco?" Pansy asked, with a hint of amusement. "Are you asking me to come with you to the Casbah?"

"Might be a fun side-trip... but actually, I'm going to be working at some ancient Carthaginian ruins in Volubilis."

"Carthaginian ruins?" Pansy asked, a glimmer of interest appearing in her eyes. "There were some very powerful Carthaginian wizards."

"Yeah. I bet there will be loads of interesting artefacts there," Ron said, bending down to brush his lips over her temple.

"Do tell," Pansy sighed.

"I reckon they had some very intriguing and exotic spells," he whispered in her ear.

"Mmm. Exotic," Pansy breathed, reaching up to comb a hand through his thick, red hair.

"And curses, galore. I'll have to look sharp, to beat them, I'm sure," Ron continued. "There's no telling what I might learn about ancient Carthaginian curses while I'm working there"

"Ancient curses? Fascinating," Pansy murmured, leaning into him.

"And trapping spells."

"I love trapping spells," Pansy purred, curving her free hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down to her.

Ron stopped just short of kissing her. "So, what do you think? Do you fancy a holiday in Morocco?" He held his breath while he waited for her answer.

Pansy froze for a moment, feeling a brief flash of panic. The thought of actually letting herself get involved with Ron was... disquieting. What to do? What to do? Then she decided that she didn't want to be a dotty, old, cat-loving witch who lived for Lavender Brown's inane articles. Feeling reckless she said, "All right, yes. I'll go to Morocco with you." The slow smile that appeared on Ron's face, was infuriating. She tugged sharply on his hair. "Now stop arsing around and kiss me," she said, in a low, husky growl.

Ron made a mental note that he would not just roll over and give in to her every demand... but this one was reasonable enough, and giving in once in a while wouldn't hurt. Might even be enjoyable on occasion, he thought as his mouth closed over hers again.

"You're an evil bint," said one of the witches spying on them, unnoticed, from the shadows on the other side of the French doors.

"I know I am, Millie," Ginny said, sounding as smug as you please.

"Are you sure this was a good idea?" Hermione asked, distrustfully.

"A good idea? It was bloody brilliant!" Ginny asserted with an irritated look at her sceptical friend. "Look at them, they're made for each other." She sighed happily. "I didn't even have to use the potion."

The three witches watched the couple a little bit longer. Ron and Pansy didn't even seem to notice the cold, they were so absorbed in each other.

"Well, if you think so..." Hermione said, still sounding doubtful.

"I do," Ginny said, firmly. "I was right about Millie and Adrian, wasn't I?" Then she turned to Hermione. "Now, Hermione," she said, the determined gleam in her eye causing the other witch to feel a flutter of unease, "what happened to your date for the evening?"

~fin~