A/N: I'll post here (in different chapters) different Ron/Pansy drabbles (499 words max) for a competition on livejournal. The drabbles are different stories. None has any connection to another. The competition is a LDWS, which stands for Last Drabble Writer Standing. Each week a prompt is given and people write a drabble inspired by it, then people vote (no one knows who wrote what) and each week two writers are out of the competition. I didn't do very well the first week and I have a feeling I'll be out this week (week 2), but I'll keep updating this until I'm out :)
The recollection of drabbles is called Colours fo Love because that's the name of the competition. Each week/prompt is related to one colour.
Here's the drabble for week 1
Title: The Observer
Pairing: Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: PG-13 (for slight sexual implications)
Prompt: "He liked to observe emotions; they were like red lanterns strung along the dark unknown of another's personality, marking vulnerable points." - Ayn Rand
Word Count: 397
Summary: Another Saturday night, another whiskey in his hand. Same bar, same table. Ron watches Pansy.
A/N: Originally written for Challenge One: Red on ronpansy_ldws . I barely made it, so I'll most probably be out next week.
Another Saturday night, another whiskey in his hand. Same bar, same table. Ron watches Pansy from a far, dark corner of the dimly lighted place.
She talks to a blonde bloke, sipping at her drink every time he says something.
He is boring.
The next week, the same table awaits him. Ron smiles to himself as Pansy pushes her long hair behind her ear for the hundredth time that night.
Her dark locks fall in uncharacteristic curls down her back, the product of the humidity outside.
She feels uncomfortable.
The following Saturday, he observes her again. The muscles in his shoulders tense as Pansy giggles and touches a man's arm.
She pretends not to catch him looking down her low-cut blouse.
She wants to fuck him.
The whiskey doesn't burn his throat anymore. It's a routine, just like observing her. Ron feels himself relax for the first time in a week when he sees Pansy's last conquest is nowhere in sight.
She's wearing her grey sweater and a short skirt.
There's something bothering her.
Another weekend finds him in the same place, but there are no signs of Pansy in the pub. Ron waits and waits, but the girl he's been observing for months hasn't shown up.
A sense of loss invades him.
He misses her.
The next Saturday, there is already someone at his table when he arrives at the pub. Pansy looks at him intently with two whiskeys on the table. Ron sits in front of her, his curiosity greater than the fear of her discovering him.
"You've been watching me, Weasley."
Straight to the point. Of course, she's wearing her red dress today. She is determined.
"I've been reading you," he says shortly, his blue eyes burning into her hazel ones.
"Is that so?" she asks, lifting her chin just so, a move almost imperceptible to anyone but him. "Would you tell me what you read?"
Ron leans across the table. The scant distance between their faces makes her painted lips all the more inviting.
"You're just as vulnerable as I am… as any of us. But you like to pretend that's not true."
Her cold laugh rings in his ears. The sound is supposed to be denigrating, but only confirms his theory.
"You think you know everything, Weasley."
"I don't. I just know you," he whispers before kissing her firmly on the lips.