Malfoy Manor Ball ✓

Part 6

"In the flesh," Pansy replied, gesturing to her body with her free hand not holding her plate.

Ron was never one to excel in masking his emotions.

His mouth remained agape as Pansy shifted her weight onto one leg. After waiting thirty more seconds, she set down her heavy plate and placed a hand on her hip. "Weasel got your tongue?" she smirked.

This broke Ron out of trance and he shot her a look of annoyance. As much as he wanted to retort and give her a sarcastic reply, he just felt tired of it all tonight. He pushed past her to grab some roast beef from the charmed table without saying a word.

"What, not even going to fight back?" she hurried after him, her bright red, skin tight dress restricting her movements. "Not even a rubbish insult?"

Ron glanced at her sideways with his eyes without moving his head. "I'm not in the mood, Parkinson. Sorry to disappoint." He found some bread rolls and placed a few on his plate.

"What's up with you?" she gave him a dirty look.

"It's none of your business." Ron searched for the butter.

"He got his girl stolen tonight," Blaise suddenly answered coming around them. He smirked as he directed Ron to the location of the butter plate.

"Who? Granger?" Pansy asked her fellow Slytherin alum.

Blaise sighed with impatience, "Who else?" He leaned his body lightly against the table.

Ron finished packing his plate and turned to the two. "She's not my girl. Bloody hell, what's a man got to do to get some privacy around here?" The fire-red-haired boy began to walk away, slightly shoving his shoulder into Blaise's along the way.

Pansy widened her eyes. "Wait, where is he going?" She asked to Blaise who's eyes were on the retreating boy.

"How should I know?" Blaise turned to look at Pansy but she was no longer next to him. He twirled around and saw her following briskly after the weasel. That dress definitely accentuated her curvy arse. Blaise decided to kick off from the table he was leaning on and trail after them, as well.

"Ron, where are you you off to?" Pansy called after him, shuffling in her body forming dress and high heels.

He looked back at her as he continued to walk. "Oh, so now you know my name? What happened to 'weasel?' Why do you even care where I'm headed? Stop following me."

She caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn around. Caught off balance, his full plate flew out of his hands.

"My beef!" Ron cried.

He braced himself for the crash, but it never came. Ron looked around with confusion and found the plate and pieces of roast beef and bread floating in the air. He stepped back and saw Pansy holding her wand out pointed towards the levitating food. He looked up at her with wild, slightly impressed eyes as she put on a red-lipped smirk only Pansy Parkinson could pull with a tilt of her head. She had definitely grown into her features, Ron thought.

She fixed his plate for him with a twirl of her wand and floated it back into his large hands. Ron swallowed and turned around to walk away again.

"Um, you're welcome?" she said expectantly and leaned towards him.

"Right. Thanks," he quietly shot over his shoulder.

Blaise nudged her with his hip and nodded in Ron's direction. "Weasel is acting . . . more 'weasel-y' than usual, wouldn't you say?" He silently praised himself at his choice of words. Pansy, on the other hand, scoffed at the lack of them.