Archive of Our Own ^beta

❆

It’s not that Pansy never wanted to return to London after the War. It’s just she never really saw the point. She’d finished her schooling. She escaped Azkaban and any persecution. 

And most importantly, she was absolutely hated by everyone in Wizarding London. 

It wasn’t an exaggeration. Any time the name ‘Pansy Parkinson’ was dropped into conversation, it usually had ‘that bitch’ attached. 

Escaping to New York was practically a no-brainer. The Ministry decided not to press charges against the seventeen-year-old girl for merely suggesting they hand Harry Potter over to You-Know-Who. It was to save her and her classmates' lives, after all. But that didn’t stop Wizarding London from writing her name down in the history books as the biggest villain of all.  

No, really, they put her even higher than Draco Malfoy because he was brainwashed from a young age to think that way and just needed therapy. Not that Pansy thought that Draco getting therapy was a bad idea, but it was rather baffling how he was absolved since he went to a court-ordered Head Healer. Still, she never even had charges pressed against her, and she was worse than Bellatrix bloody Lestrange. 

New York was the right choice.  

It was the perfect place for Pansy to blossom, pun not intended. While Harry Potter and the War was all over Wizarding Britain, the American Wizarding World only kind-of-sort-of heard about it here and there. The MACUSA was a bit, uh, censoring the details about the War that crossed the pond. 

Which, well, was not right since a government should never censor the papers, but Pansy wasn’t about to complain because not a soul knew her name or about the stupidest moment of her life. 

Once in New York, Pansy became an assistant for the couture Wizarding fashion designer Hey Stephen. Being an assistant was not what Pansy ever envisioned for herself. She picked up laundry every other day, walked her boss’s dogs, and even procured manuscripts before they were published for his snippy teens. 

Pansy kept hoping to be promoted. She was feared and knew everything there was when it came to fashion. She was brilliant at email. To this day, anyone in her office would claim she was the inventor of the ever-so-deadly ‘ per my last email’ signature roast.  

She was in her element. She was only twenty-two, but she knew if she kept working hard, she would get that promotion soon enough. Plus, she didn’t feel twenty-two. She was way more mature than that. She was ahead of the curve. 

This is why it made no sense that she risked her career with a feigned sudden illness and secretly head back to the place that exiled her: London. 

Wizarding London, to be precise. 

She did not need to ever go back to Britain. She hated it there, and it hated her.  

But she was back because of Draco bloody Malfoy, still her best friend despite all the distance.  Apparently, she owed him one, and, of course, he couldn’t explain it in a sodding letter. 

She would murder him with her red-bottom boot if this wasn’t a life-or-death emergency. 

One step into The Leaky Cauldron, and she was met with… nothing? 

Nothing. 

Not one that bitch. Not one glare. Not even a look in her direction, which was actually quite offensive because she was wearing a very expensive and beautiful coal gray cloak with her knee-high boots, and she looked drop-dead lethal. Not to mention drop-dead gorgeous as well. It was like they all forgot she existed. 

Even as she stepped through the enchanted brick arch into the winter wonderland, no one gave her a second glance. She’d put on her best red lipstick and ensured her bob haircut was so razor-straight that it could cut glass. She had dressed for revenge, and… no one gave a shit. 

If Pansy wasn’t so caught up in how no one seemed to know who she was, she probably would have noticed how much Diagon Alley had changed since she had last been. No longer was it the slightly dirty cottage grit that preyed upon the old days. It hadn’t been gentrified, per se, but cleaned up and rebuilt, modernized yet still full of charm and nostalgia.  

Granted, it was decked out with red and green Christmas decorations, so maybe that was where the charm came from. 

Though, instead of cobblestones to catch her stiletto heels, there was a lovely paved street that Pansy was insanely thankful for. She didn’t need to go tripping into a snowbank, thank you very much. 

She checked the letter sent for the name of the coffee shop she was to meet Draco. 

Red Cafe

“Who in the world names their cafe after a color?” Pansy murmured to herself before setting off in the direction the letter pointed. 

❆

The Weasleys. 

That was who. Whom? Who. Oh, it didn't matter.

That was who thought a cafe named Red was perfectly acceptable. 

And yes, maybe, she supposed it was sort of cute in a way since the whole bloody family had red hair, and it was attached to their joke shop, Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Which maybe meant the name was supposed to be a joke? Or maybe the coffee was a joke?   

Oh, it better not be. Pansy was low on caffeine and already grumpy because she was, well, here, and it was snowing and cold and, again, here as in London. So the last anyone wanted to do was prank her at this moment. Or any moment for that matter.

Pansy opened the door to the cafe in a huff of annoyance and was instantly transported into the warmth of a Common Room.  There was a wood-burning fire against one wall with a mantle full of moving pictures of friends, family, and possibly even customers.  The walls were covered with frames holding even more photos and hand-drawn art. 

The cafe was full of customers, sitting in mismatched chairs, chatting among themselves or curled up with a book.  A group of Witches sat near the fire, knitting sweaters and comparing yarn. A man near the window typed on a muggle typewriter that chimed happily after each line.

It was already decorated for Christmas.  Garland swooped across the ceiling and lights twinkled in time with the holiday music playing softly from the wireless in the corner.  A fat orange cat sat snuggly in a chair by the fire, eyeing the stockings that teased him by dangling their pompoms just out of his reach. 

Mistletoe hung above the door, and Pansy made sure to sidestep it before it could glue her in place. On the mantle, a gingerbread family in the middle of decorating their house stopped to wave hello. Too cheery, too familiar, too much like the home she never had. It was all too much.  

Pansy was so taken aback by all the Christmas cheer she didn’t even notice the man behind the counter watching her with a curious smile.

The ginger man with freckles splattered across his face like someone threw paint at him, crossed his arms, and quirked one side of his lips up at her in a smirk.  

“Parkinson? Where have you been?” he stated, making her jump and turn towards him quickly. Pansy composed herself, rolled her eyes, and gave a huff of annoyance in case the eye roll didn’t convey it enough. 

“Hi, yes, it’s me,” she said quickly, “Triple, Non-fat, No Foam Latte.” She tilted her head to feign interest in any of the cafe, and especially him, as she placed her coins on the counter. Well, a bit of feigning. He was rather, well, fit. 

She had no idea which one it was. Not Ginny, obviously, but they all looked the same. Even though this one was very tall and, well, if she had to admit to herself, rather handsome in a works-at-a-cafe sort of way. 

“Yeah, nah, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, laughing as he moved behind a rather strange-looking espresso machine. It was ultraviolet with white buttons and levers. Tubes wrapped around it and flowered into the air like trumpets. 

He pulled his wand from behind his ear; Pansy kept her commentary to herself about not seeming like a sanitary location. He tapped the equipment, making it hum alive. It began puffing out little clouds of gold as it worked. 

“What do you mean you don’t think so?” she shot at him, tapping her black coffin-shaped nails impatiently on the counter between them. The Christmas wreath behind him trembled in fear, but he barely batted an eyelash. 

“Just that,” he said, leaning against the machine as it worked, watching her with a pair of very lovely blue eyes. Too bad he was a Weasley. Too bad he was in London, and she would be leaving the very first chance she got. 

Pansy glared back, focusing on her worst stare. With her dark eyes, she’d been told she could give a look of pure death if she wanted to. Which she always wanted to do. Two could play the staring game, and she would most definitely win against a Weasley of all people. 

But instead of cowering, as he should have because she was untouchable, a great big grin broke across his face, dimples and all. 

The machine gave a lovely little ding, then stopped all its humming and cloud-making. 

He kept eye contact as he reached to open a door in the machine. Sitting there waiting, as if it had been made by House Elves, was a red to-go coffee cup with her name already written in black marker on the side.  

Pansy had never seen a coffee made magically. Even the Wizarding cafes in America still made coffee the Muggle way. He handed it to her without fanfare, like he made coffee like this every day. 

Which he did. Duh. This was his job. Pansy should not be impressed by someone just doing his job.  

She reached for her coffee, her fingers brushing against his only for a moment, but long enough to cause a red spark of magic to pop between them. Pansy jumped quickly. 

“What was that?” she asked quickly, pulling the cup towards her chest. 

“It’s yours,” he shrugged. 

“Mine,” she confirmed and took a sip.  

It, in fact, was not her’s. It was not a Triple, Non-fat, No Foam Latte. It was sweet and sugary. It was velvet on her tongue. It warmed her whole body and hugged her like it knew she’d been touch-starved her whole childhood. It danced all the way into her stomach and tasted like happiness. 

Pansy almost gasped as the magic sensation washed through her, and she returned to her normal self. “What the hell was that, Weasley!” 

He tilted his head at her, then looked at the side of the machine, reading some screen she couldn’t see. 

“A Peppermint Mocha,” he said simply before looking back to her, “did you like it?” 

Pansy looked at him, completely aghast. Did she like it? She– she– 

“Oh, Parks, there you are,” Draco Malfoy’s voice cut through the silence of whatever the hell just happened. He was tall, devilishly handsome, and holding his own red to-go cup. She wondered if it had given him the drink he had ordered. “Shall we head out?” 

Pansy looked between Draco with his perfectly tailored suit to the Weasley behind the counter in his flannel. The ginger titled his head at her, not feigning interest but with curiosity in his eyes. 

Pansy took a deep breath and nodded. She set the cup on the counter and turned to Draco. 

“Yes, let’s,” she agreed before leaving through the door. 

She made a pointed decision not to look back. 

❆

Turns out, Draco’s life or death matter was very deathly. 

Deathly in terms that she was going to absolutely murder him. 

Because it wasn’t life or death in the slightest. 

“I need you to help me pick a Christmas present for my girlfriend,” Draco explained as they walked down the street. It had begun to snow again, which caused magical snowballs to zip around and splatter unsuspecting Wix. 

Pansy stopped walking. “A bloody Christmas present? Draco!” 

Draco stopped walking, running a hand through his perfectly styled blonde hair. It fell right back into its perfect place, which was almost as annoying as his answer.  

“Yes, well, it needs to be perfect,” he hedged, taking a step to allow some carolers to pass. Pansy glared murder at them before they even got the idea to start singing. 

“It better be a gods-damn engagement ring because this is not what you call in a bloody life debt for,” she shot at him, her anger rising. 

“I hardly think helping you get an assistant job was a life debt. But, no, not there yet. Like not early days, but still early days, you know?” the blonde shrugged like he hadn’t just asked her to travel by international Portkey to help pick out a gift. 

Not that it was very hard to get one. Or take a long time. It was nothing like Muggle airplanes. Took barely an hour to secure and travel, if she was being honest, but she was still going to be annoyed.

“No, I don’t know,” she grumbled and started walking again, this time more in an angry stomp than a nice stroll. “Don’t you have other friends that could help you?” 

“Yes, of course, but, well,” he said as he hustled after her, “you’re into fashion and things. You know this stuff. And I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but not enough to travel around the world to the place that absolutely despises me,” she ranted, gesturing to the winter wonderland that looked disgustingly inviting and nothing of how she described it. “Why couldn’t you have come to New York?” 

“I’ve told you, London’s over it all. Potter gave a good ranting at everyone to be nice years ago,” Draco rolled his gray eyes in a way that suggested he practiced in front of the mirror. “He just shacked up with Theo if you’d believe it.”

“I knew he was gay. I told you he had a crush on you, did I not?” Pansy grinned in victory. 

Draco gave a suave smile and gestured to all of himself. “Well, I mean, who doesn’t? Voted Hottest Wizard in Britain three years running.” 

“Merlin, I feel sorry for your girlfriend. Are you sure she likes you?” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. But she had to admit, part of her had missed these moments with her friend.  It was just like walking through the halls again, bickering and sniping, making the other laugh and pushing each other's buttons. 

“Yes, and I love her,” Draco said simply, looking at Pansy sincerely.  He really was smitten. 

“Gross.” Pansy sighed and looked around the street; no one noticed the two former Dark Side members and continued their holiday shopping. Maybe things weren’t as she remembered after all. 

She absolutely wished she had kept that coffee now, wrong order or not.  

“Fine, let’s find her a gift.” 

❆

Pansy and Draco visited just about every shop in Diagon Alley and were still giftless come dinner time. They bickered about trying the next day again. Pansy knew she had to return to work, she could only feign sick for so long, but Draco had mastered the puppy-dog eyes and pout at a young age. She hated she still absolutely fell for it.  

For all intents and purposes, staying an extra day was even worse than being in London. Pansy debated for a very long time just getting a room at The Leaky Cauldron, but something about the holiday cheer and the way families were gathering for dinner made some sort of weird emotion consume her heart.  

Guilt. It was guilt. Ruddy, stupid, guilt.  

This is why she woke up in her childhood bedroom with a full breakfast brought to her by her Mother’s House Elf. Pansy felt even more guilt when she couldn’t remember his name. Hermy? Or was it Horny? No, that would never be it. Happy? Well, at least that was better than Horny. 

She thanked the elf and ate some of the waffles she was brought. She wasn’t sure the last time she even had breakfast. Usually, she was too busy to even think about anything more than burnt toast. 

The only thing home was missing was good coffee. 

And, as much as Pansy would never admit it, she couldn’t stop thinking about her one sip of Peppermint Mocha. 

“Bloody Weasleys,” she groaned as she admitted defeat. All she could hope for was a different ginger behind the counter that morning. 

She wore black jeans that hugged her body and a beautiful lavender cashmere sweater. However, she decided to ditch her murder boots for a pair of white trainers. It wasn’t that the heels hurt; it just seemed wiser to wear comfortable shoes when dragged from shop to shop by a very indecisive Draco. 

After saying goodbye to her parents, Pansy made her way over to Diagon Alley. Her parents were more than happy to have their daughter visit for a holiday and tried to convince her to stay through Christmas. 

The street was once again filled with even more holiday shoppers. Even the ones that noticed her didn’t seem to be repulsed by her presence. In fact, some even smiled. 

Completely weirded out by this new change in the Wizarding World, Pansy ducked into the Red Cafe with hopes that maybe the Weasleys were finally rich enough to hire help and not be behind the counter. 

But, of course, it was still the same tall, blue-eyed, very fit redhead from the day before. He was even taller without her heels. It was, well, she wasn’t going to remark about what that made her feel.  

Maybe this was one of the older Weasley men. That’d explain why she couldn’t place him or found him, well, sort of attractive.  

And, yes, it was obvious he remembered her because he was smirking like Christmas had just come a week early. 

“Hi, yes, it’s me,” she sighed, trying to ignore his grin. “I’d like a Triple, Non-fat, No Foam Latte.” 

“Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I wouldn’t order it if I wasn’t,” she told him, trying not to grind her teeth. 

“If you say so,” he hummed, taking out his wand and tapping the machine. Pansy crossed her arms in front of her chest as she waited, challenging him with her eyes to give her the incorrect drink again. 

“Why won’t you tell me your name?” 

“You didn’t ask for it,” he smirked. 

Pansy gaped, not used to being called on her shit. “Fine, what’s your name?” 

He snorted at her very inelegant phrasing. “Ron.”

“Ron? Ron, as in Potter’s friend, Golden Trio Member, Ron? Are you sure?” Pansy practically spat out in disbelief. 

“Well, last I checked, I was. I hope you weren’t hoping I’m Percy. He’s still an awful twat if you ask me,” Ron said, giving her a playful smile, crooked and dimpled. She hated how much she liked it. 

“No, just, you’re, well,” Pansy tried to find a word that wouldn’t completely embarrass her. She was most definitely not going to admit he was fit, but he also seemed a bit more relaxed and, well, happier, in a way. She supposed it wasn’t hard to be more comfortable without a War on. 

She took in the way he casually leaned against the odd machine. His cardigan looked extremely comfortable. There wasn’t an ounce of product in his hair, allowing it to fall freely around his face. There was none of that easy-to-rile aggravation she remembered back in their school days. 

“You’re different,” Pansy finally settled with because she couldn’t, for all intents and purposes, think of an adjective that wouldn’t thoroughly embarrass herself. It seemed like an insult with the right sort of venom in her voice.  

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, a smile spreading over his face. He either did not pick up or decidedly ignored her slight. She had a feeling it was the latter. 

“You do?” Pansy asked. 

“Different is better than the same, don’t you think?” he shrugged. 

As Pansy contemplated her answer, the machine made the melodic ding that it was finished. He again pulled a red cup out of the door and handed it to her. This time, Pansy made sure not to let their fingers touch. 

“Sometimes the same is better,” she told him, “it’s safe.” 

But as she took a sip of her drink, she knew it wasn’t the drink she had ordered. It was the Peppermint Mocha again, wrapping its loving sweetness around her heart and dancing with holiday cheer.  

“You never told me if you liked it,” he said, nodding to the drink. 

Pansy, never wanting to admit she was wrong about anything, gave him a look of contempt. 

“It’s acceptable,” she said before leaving to meet Draco in Muggle London. 

❆

“Lemme guess: Triple, Non-fat, No Foam Latte?” Ron asked as Pansy entered Red Cafe for the third day. 

She and Draco had spent the entire day, once again, trying to find his girlfriend the perfect gift. She wasn’t into fancy, expensive things and had everything she could ever want. She also didn’t care about grand gestures or over-the-top dramatics. This left Pansy confused about why this girl would be into Draco because, well, had she met him? 

“Yes, if your silly machine even knows what that is,” she scoffed, looking at the offensive object.  

Ron’s smile lit up his face as he pulled his wand from the apron around his waist. At least that was a bit more sanitary. “It knows what that is. It just knows it’s not what you want.” 

He tapped the machine, and it began its usual whirring. Yet, this time, the machine started blowing red and green bubbles. 

“Interesting,” Ron noted, watching the bubbles rise to the ceiling. They didn’t pop but added themselves to the Christmas garland like they were ornament baubles. 

“What's interesting?” Pansy asked, unable to hide her curiosity. 

Ron shrugged. “Just have to wait and find out. Like a Christmas present.” 

“Have I mentioned I hate Christmas?” Pansy ventured, eyeing the magical coffee machine and surrounding holiday decor with skepticism. 

“No one hates Christmas,” Ron scoffed, though his grin never left his face. “You hate the crazies or the capitalism or the earworms, but no one hates Christmas itself.” 

“I do,” Pansy shot at him. 

He snorted a laugh. “Okay, Pansy, whatever you say.” 

He said it very unconvincingly, and if his lopsided smile said anything, he definitely did not believe her. 

Pansy fumed, tucking her hair behind her ear, and tried to not focus on how he called her by her name or how she liked it. She did her best not to stare at Ron again, but he was nothing from what she remembered. Back at school, she had always thought he was a bit, well, actually, she didn’t really think much of him. She purposely ignored him unless it was to insult him, really. 

She wished she could think of a good insult to shoot at him right now. 

The machine made a lovely jingling noise, and the door opened.  

“Not what I expected,” he said, then looked at her with curious eyes. She hated that she noticed how pretty his eyelashes were.  

Instead of the usual red to-go cup, her Peppermint Mocha was in a tall glass mug with whipped cream. 

“What does that mean?” she asked, looking between the drink and Ron. 

“That you want to stay,” he smiled. 

Pansy’s eyes widened. She absolutely did not want to stay. She wanted nothing more than to get away from this… this… Weasley.  

Then again, it’s not like she had anywhere to go. Her parents were busy, and Draco was at work until noon, so she didn’t have plans for the morning. She was still calling in sick so doing any work, even despite the time difference, would look a bit suspicious. 

Before she could accept or deny the drink, Ron picked it up and carried it to the bar for customers to sit. There was a couple at the other end, making paper rings from their napkin holders and so deep in conversation with each other they didn’t even look up. 

Pansy followed, wondering what in Weasley-magic was this machine and why it was telling her to stay because she certainly did not want to. No, that was preposterous. 

“If I’d known I was staying, I’d’ve brought a book,” she sighed as she sat. She took a sip of the drink and felt its beautiful perfection fill her body. She hated how easily it made her smile. 

“Guess you’ll just have to endure some conversation,” Ron teased. She shot him a look that dared him to even try.  

He poured himself a cup of water and took a sip. He took her dare and asked, “What’d you end up doing after school?” 

“I work for a fashion designer. In New York City.” She felt rather awkward, just drinking her coffee with nothing to do. She hadn’t really sat with nothing to do in ages. Usually, she at least had her phone to check messages, but it didn’t work in Diagon Alley. 

“Really? New York? What’s that like?” he asked, leaning on the counter on his elbows, eyes full of interest. She blushed slightly and swallowed at the attention she wasn’t used to. Usually, people paid attention before they were scared or angry at her, but never, well, just interested. 

“Busy. Loads of people everywhere, really. Bright lights. But also really beautiful. There’s always something to do, somewhere to go,” she explained, stirring her straw in her drink, and mixing in the whipped cream.  

Pansy’s breath caught in her throat. The attention was too much. She hated how vulnerable she’d gotten after such an innocent question. It was the drink; it had to be. There had to be some sort of magic in it.  

“What about you?” she asked, trying to change the subject and regain some of her that bitch attitude, “did you always want to just make coffee?” 

Ron snorted with a chuckle and shook his head. “Barely. I tried being an Auror for a bit. Made it through training, but George was having a real hard time running the shop without Fred. Having a hard time even getting out of bed.” 

Pansy suddenly felt guilty for her sass. “Oh, I’d forgotten that you– I’m so–” 

He held up his hand to stop her. Like he heard it too many times. Like she was the last person he wanted to hear it from. But then he kept talking like he wasn’t upset with her at all. “You didn’t cause it. I know they made it sound like you did, that every Pureblood did, but none of us knew what we were doing, you know? We were grieving before the deaths even happened. The fear that stole everything from us.” 

This time, Pansy stayed silent. It was the most genuine thing she had ever heard about the War. They had been on different sides, but their fear and need to stay alive haunted their every decision.  

“Anyway, I took some time off to help out and just liked being around, helping people. Then we invented that thing by accident and, well, kind of had to share,” he said, pointing to the coffee maker with his thumb. 

Pansy glanced over at the purple machine. “You invented that? What was it supposed to be?” 

“A wish granter,” he laughed, “but all it makes is coffee. Never tea, which, you know, odd for Britain?”

Pansy couldn’t help it: a soft laugh bubbled through her.  

Ron mirrored her laughter, his smile taking up his whole face. Even with his pain and grief, he seemed full of softness and light. She had no idea it was possible to be in such a way after the War. 

“I think I went to New York because no one knows me there. Everyone there was someone else before so I can go anywhere, and I’m no one,” Pansy revealed without thinking.  

The confession spilled without her meaning. She blushed again, taking a sip of her drink to hide behind as she composed herself.  

The man in front of her bit his lip as he let her words sink in. 

“You’re not no one,” he told her softly. “When you’re young, you just run, but you come back to what you need.”

Pansy stared up at Ron, her heart beating in her throat. She’d never felt so seen by someone, and all they were doing was just chatting. She swallowed hard. 

The bell above the door rang, and they both turned to see a group of teenagers tumble in out of the cold. 

“Duty calls,” Ron smiled and headed over to the counter. 

Pansy finished her drink while waiting for him to finish with the teens. For a moment, she debated about waiting, just to keep talking. 

But that was silly. This whole thing was silly. She didn’t come back to Wizarding London, and certainly not because she needed anything. She was asked, and she’d be leaving soon. Maybe even tomorrow, she’d be back in New York, and none of this would have even mattered. 

❆

Draco flaked; he had back-to-back meetings and never met Pansy. She threatened to head back to New York, seeing as it was ridiculous she was there in the first place. Still, some rather pathetic begging and carefully calculated gaslighting caused her to stay. 

We haven’t hung out in years, and you’re just going to leave me stranded? Giftless? Possibly ruin the most important Christmas of my life? I thought you were my best friend, Parks. 

Most important Christmas, her ass. It wasn’t even an engagement ring! Though, proposing on Christmas was way too cliche for her taste. Almost as bad as proposing on Valentine’s Day. Pansy groaned; she would have to make sure he didn’t pull that cheesy stunt in two months. 

She waited as the machine made her drink; she didn’t even attempt to order when she arrived. Ron raised an eyebrow as she paid without a word, biting his lip to keep his smirk under control. 

It’s not like it was going to make her order anyways.  

This time, it played jingle bells when the glass was ready. Once again, it was in a glass mug, not the red to-go cup. 

As if it overheard their last conversation, there were now red and green sprinkles atop the whipped cream.

Ron raised an eyebrow at her, and Pansy rolled her eyes. She was absolutely not filled with Christmas cheer and wanted none of it.  

“I think your machine is broken,” she told him. 

Ron snorted. “Sure it is.” 

Pansy gave him a wry smile, grabbed her drink, and headed to a table. Knowing that the machine never gave her what she asked for, she brought a book. She had time to kill, after all. 

She was just going to sit far away from Weasley this time. 

Pansy was halfway through her chapter when Ron pulled out the chair in front of her and plopped down.  

“You came prepared,” Ron chuckled as he sat. Pansy raised an eyebrow. She did not invite him to sit.  

She glared at him and then tried to keep reading. But with his soft blue eyes watching her, she couldn’t concentrate.  

“What?” she snapped at him, closing the book with her bookmark secure. 

“You read differently,” Ron noted. 

Pansy wrinkled her brow, pulling her hair back into a small messy bun. “Is that a compliment?” 

“Um, yeah, kind of?” he laughed, “I’m so used to Hermione reading to learn. You look like you’re having fun. I mean, you’re smiling even.” 

 Pansy felt her cheeks heat. “Oh, well, it’s just a silly romance book.” 

She held the book up for him to read the title. 

“The Last Great American Dynasty,” he read aloud and cringed. “Don’t tell me it’s a… family romance.” 

Pansy’s eyes grew as she connected the dots. “Not like that, you weirdo.” 

Ron broke out into loud laughter. She tried her best to roll her eyes, but his laughter was contagious. Before she knew it, she was laughing along with him.  

“Well, you are a pureblood,” he teased, making her gasp. She threw her napkin at him, making him laugh even harder. He seemed so relaxed, so happy. She had never really met someone lit from within.

“So are you!” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.  

Wiping at his eyes, Ron nodded. “Okay, okay, fair point. But still.” 

“No, but still ,” Pansy declared, although little giggles still escaped.  

She smiled softly at him. He returned it while biting his lips. She was sure there was a slight flush to his cheeks.  

“So you and Hermione….” Pansy trailed off. 

“Good friends, that’s it,” he answered. “We tried dating a bit, didn’t work. Believe it or not, she’s engaged to my brother now.” 

“Percy?” Pansy teased. 

“No, I told you, he’s a twat. George,” Ron explained with no animosity in his tone. “She keeps him in line; he makes her laugh. They’re good together.” 

Pansy nodded, taking a sip of her drink. She wasn’t sure why she was interested in Ron’s love life. Why was she interested in his life at all? It’s not like they would keep being friends once she left. It’s not like they’d be talking if it wasn’t for his exceptionally good coffee maker. 

“When are you returning to New York?” he asked, leaning on the table and biting his lip. A bit of his fringe fell into his eyes, and Pansy had to resist reaching out to tuck it back behind his ear. 

“Um, soon, I suppose. I’m helping Draco with something, and as soon as that’s done,” she explained. She raised an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Just wondering if your drink’s going to change now,” he shrugged, glancing at the new customers that just come through the door. He stood up from the table with a mysterious smile. 

“Why would it do that?” she asked. 

Ron shrugged. “You seem happy.” 

He moved away to the counter without another word. 

Pansy bit her lip.  

She hadn’t really noticed she was unhappy. 

❆

“I cannot believe–” 

“Do you not miss me at all?” Draco shot back. 

Pansy huffed. “Of course I miss you.” 

“And Theo? And Blaise? And Millicent?” 

“Yes, I miss all of you, but–” 

“But you’re coming. End of,” Draco solidified.  

And that is how Pansy ended up in the middle of 12 Grimmauld Place wearing a very ugly sweater with two gnomes kissing under mistletoe embroidered all over it. It had no style. It was a disaster. 

It was oversized and actually rather comfy.  

She would wear it in secret back home, fine, but here? In public? It went against every bit of fashion sense she ever had. Even her red lipstick and sharp eyeliner couldn’t save her. 

She supposed it could be worse. Draco wore a sweater decorated with a hippogriff tangled up in Christmas lights that lit up.  

The living room was full of everyone Pansy remembered from school from every House. They were milling about, talking and laughing, drinking spiked eggnog and mulled cider. There was no House animosity or good versus evil. No, everyone was having a good time, enjoying their friends. 

Pansy stood against the wall, sipping her champagne. When she arrived, Potter greeted her at the door with a hug and thanked her for coming like she hadn’t tried to be an accessory to his possible murder. A few of her former friends had come up to speak with her. Blaise introduced his fiancee Luna, whom Pansy had never formally met in her school years. Theo kissed Potter under the mistletoe. Hannah Abbott was now Hannah Longbottom. Even Millicent was holding hands with one of the Patil twins. 

It was all rather bizarre.  Like snow on the beach. 

“Why does Draco look like he just got hit with a Sectumsempra spell again?” a familiar voice joined Pansy at the wall. She turned to see Weasley in a Santa hat that clashed with his hair.  

Pansy glanced over at Draco across the room and snorted in laughter. Three red scratches ran down the side of his left cheek. “He got his girlfriend a Scottish Fold for Christmas. It doesn’t like him much.” 

“Oh, Ginny’s allergic to cats,” Ron said. 

Pansy’s eyes grew as she looked back at Weasley. “He’s dating Ginny? Your sister? Motherfucker!” 

“I think you mean sister-fucker,” Ron suggested, chuckling.  

Pansy was about to go into a rage. All this week, they had been searching high and low for the perfect gift, and one of the people that knew best, that probably knew exactly what to get, was literally sitting in front of her every day this week. 

She could have been back in New York enjoying one of her fancy Holiday office parties and not this ugly sweater party. Though Ron seemed to escape that one, he wore a maroon sweater with a gold R across the chest. Not very Christmasy, in her opinion; she had been told everyday sweaters were not an option. 

“You mean to tell me that he could have asked you to help him find a gift, and he had me come all the way from New York?” she growled, trying to keep herself in check. 

“I keep telling Ginny he’s a right tosser,” Ron shrugged and drank some of his beer from a plastic Christmas cup. He seemed not phased in the slightest. Even his insult lacked any real venom, as if he was perfectly fine with his childhood enemy dating his baby sister. 

“I could try introducing her to Goyle; he’s actually very nice,” Pansy suggested. Served Draco right for playing her like this all this damn time. 

“Nah, he married this Muggle girl, Juliet. She always has the wildest drinks when she comes in,” Ron explained, eyes full of delight at the thought.   

Pansy swallowed the rest of her champagne in a single gulp. “Is everyone coupled up?”

“Oh, did you not get the invite? We’re the only single people here,” he nodded to the crowded room.  

Pansy looked around the party and took in the scene. He was right. They were the only two not coupled up. Even Ginny had shown up, and Draco claimed her with an arm around her shoulder.  

Not only were they the only two single people there; everyone was more than aware of their status and watched her and Ron’s every move. Potter kept glancing their way, trying to hide a smirk behind his drink. Millicent was most definitely talking about Pansy with how she turned away quickly. When she caught Draco’s eye, he dared to even give her a wink. 

“He really does have a death wish,” Pansy growled under her breath. She took a quick step away from Ron, putting some distance between them.  

The last thing she wanted was to be set up. She didn’t even want to be here. She thought she had his whole plot figured out, and now this? She was going to give Draco a big sack of coal for Christmas. 

Ron followed where Pansy was looking and shrugged. 

“Ginny likes him, though, a lot,” he said.  

“My condolences,” Pansy snarked into her drink. Ron laughed. 

“I know, the ultimate betrayal,” he sighed like he was extremely put out, but his smile made him lack any real conviction. They returned to watching Draco and Ginny again. Their smiles seemed to fit together to complete a puzzle. They looked at home in each other’s arms.  There was no longer us versus them, dark and light.  Everything had changed. 

It would be cute if Pansy wasn’t completely annoyed. 

“He should get her a necklace with his initials,” Ron said, breaking the silence.  

“Really? Are we talking about the same Ginevra Weasley?” Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow. From what she remembered, Ginny was more of a badass that didn’t treasure shiny things. Which also went with what Draco said when they were looking at jewelry earlier in the week. 

“Yeah, I mean, she’s going to give him shit for it, but she’ll never take it off,” Ron explained with a wicked grin.    

“Okay, I might have some respect for her again,” Pansy sighed, committing the suggestion to memory so she could tell Draco later and the cat could be returned before it ruined more of Draco’s face. 

“Merlin, love’s the most maddening,” Pansy sighed. Next to her, Ron nodded. 

“Forever and always,” he said. He finished the rest of his drink in a single gulp. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Pansy glanced at her friends, laughing and happy with their significant others. Her heart didn’t break with jealousy or cry in loneliness. Instead, it danced, knowing the War was over, and they were all free to finally be themselves and love who they wished. 

It was what she felt when she drank her coffee each morning. 

“Yes,” Pansy smiled, turning to Ron. “Please.” 

❆

Pansy and Ron silently walked down the white winter street. The snow fell soft around them, keeping the street quiet save for the soft crunch under their shoes. Whenever Pansy glimpsed a peek at the man walking beside her, she caught him looking right back at her. 

She had to bite her lip not to smile. He seemed to be having the same problem. 

When she gave a little shiver, he unwrapped his scarf from his neck and held it out to her.  

“Thank you,” she murmured, blushing slightly. As she placed it over her shoulders, she smelt the Christmas joy of peppermint candy canes mixed with the warm smell of just him. 

Pansy had to swallow hard whatever feeling that elicited in her.  

“Wizarding London is nothing like I remember it,” Pansy admitted softly into the universe. 

“No?” 

“No. I expected, well, it was so full of darkness and hate when I left,” she tried to explain. She looked back up at Ron, not sure what she was expecting. The snow sparkled on his hat. “And I know I deserved it, but it still hurt.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ron told her.  

“I should be apologizing to you,” she scoffed, remembering all the times she was just purely awful to him in school. 

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, waiting for a moment. 

Pansy sighed loudly and dramatically. “Ron Weasley, I am sorry for being such a bully.” 

“Apology accepted,” Ron said with a laugh that echoed in the empty street. 

There was too much going on here. Wizarding London had changed so much she could barely recognize it and this, whatever it was, was part of that whole mess that she couldn’t even begin to understand. Her heart was elated, thinking about the happiness her friends had found in each other and others, but it still wasn’t her. She didn’t live here. She had moved on. 

She was happy for them, but this wasn’t her life. Her life was back in New York. 

“Thank you for walking me,” Pansy said softly, turning to him as they reached the Apparition Point. 

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. He shifted on his feet awkwardly. “You know, Pansy, I really like spending time with you. And I was thinking–” 

“I leave tomorrow,” Pansy blurted out before he could finish whatever he was saying. 

Ron froze and looked down at her with his big, blue, sad eyes.  

“Figured out Ginny’s present, so no reason to stay,” she solidified her statement. 

“Not even for Christmas with your family?” he tried. 

He had a point, but Pansy shook her head no. “I have a lot of work I need to catch up on.” 

Ron nodded, taking a small step away, putting some distance between them. She hadn’t noticed they’d been so close. She rather preferred him there to the cold winter air. 

“Alright,” he nodded. “Well, I hope it doesn’t take another five years for you to visit again.” 

“Depends on my work,” she said definitely, stubbornly, needing to get away from him before he broke something inside of her even worse. This was too delicate. 

“Of course,” he replied, a softness in his tone ripping through her heart. 

Pansy nodded. “Thank you, again, for the coffee,” Pansy said, reaching to pull off the red scarf. 

“Keep it. As a Christmas present,” he told her as reached up to stop her.  As their hands touched, red sparks popped between them, making Pansy jump once again.  She remembered the first time it happened, the words they said. 

He seemed to remember too as he wet his lip and leaned in. 

Pansy, instead, took another step away, keeping herself from doing something foolish.

“Goodbye, Ron,” she said, leaving him standing crestfallen on the landing. 

❆

Pansy returned to a pile of paperwork taking over her desk. 

Her inbox was filled to the brim with department memos, and her email was in the triple digits. Her boss barely welcomed her back. Her coworkers were too busy to say much more than hoping she felt better. 

With a soft sigh, Pansy settled into her desk and got back to the life that she was so keen to return to. 

Yet barely an hour into her day, Pansy found herself missing something. 

She needed a bit more than the coffee from the break room, so she grabbed her purse and headed back downstairs.  

The Starbucks was barely a block away and took less than ten minutes to walk. Pansy waited in the long line, desperate for what she would never admit last week. 

“Hello, may I get a Peppermint Mocha?” she asked the barista. 

There was no fun conversation as the barista wrote her name in the blank space or she while waited for her drink. No one looked in her direction. No one seemed to care how her day was or what her life was like. Everyone was wrapped up in their own world, chatting on phones or waiting impatiently for their drink. She wished she’d worn her trainers instead of her stiletto heels. 

“Pansy!” the barista called and placed the white to-go cup on the counter with no care.  

Pansy said thank you, but the barista had already moved on. 

Knowing it was not best to dawdle, Pansy headed back to her office. Snow began to fall as she waited for the light to change. No one looked up to watch. No holiday cheer seemed to erupt.  

Everyone went on with their day. No one looked her way, not even to smile or enjoy the day.  She was tired of being someone else.  

Pansy sighed and took a sip of her drink, knowing at least that would brighten her spirits. But one sip and she knew everything was wrong. 

It just tasted like coffee and chocolate. 

There was no happiness in her heart or joy hugging her soul. It didn’t warm her like blue eyes and a lopsided smile. 

“Bloody Weasleys,” Pansy grumbled as she threw her cup into the nearest trash can. 

She knew what she had to do all too well. 

❆

With a deep breath, Pansy opened the door to Red Cafe. 

This time she hoped for a certain ginger to be behind the counter.  

She wasn’t disappointed.

Ron stood behind the counter, speaking with his sister as she showed off a new necklace.  

Pansy waited patiently as he gave his sister a shove to get away and turned to face his customer. 

A smile spread across his entire face, igniting his dimples like Christmas lights on a house. 

“Hi,” she said. 

“Hi,” he said. His smile grew as he noticed she was wearing his red scarf. 

Pansy had spent the entire time packing up her tiny New York apartment while thinking of what she would say at this very moment, and now she was completely speechless. She’d forgotten how beautifully warm and inviting his smile was. It hugged her with a magnetic force and filled her soul with every bubble of true happiness. 

Instead of speaking, Pansy reached out, taking Ron’s flannel shirt in her hands and tugging his lips to hers. 

It was more than the completion of her heart. It was the crushing sort of forever that felt like haunted souls. It was the story of them, together, lost in a daydream. It was the best day of her life and where she felt safest. Red sparks erupted around them like fireworks. 

It was exactly how a Peppermint Mocha tasted. 

His calloused hand moved to her cheek, pulling her closer. Any respectable woman would never do it, but Pansy didn’t care as she sat on the counter, right where drinks were served, so she could kiss him deeper. 

He was magic and music. Christmas cheer and love that lasted a lifetime. There was happiness. He held onto her like it was his only chance, but she knew this was her real wish granted. It was time to let go of her fears and her ghosts. 

“By any chance, are you free tonight?” she asked, smiling against his lips. 

“Most definitely not,” he said, laughter bubbling out of him and breaking all romantic pretense of the moment. Pansy felt her heart drop to the floor. 

“Oh. I’m sorry. I–” she stuttered over her words, blushing fiercely.

 “Pansy,” he said sincerely, grabbing her hand so she would stay. “I’m busy because it’s Christmas Eve and my mum would AK me if I missed dinner.”

“Oh, right.” Pansy almost fell right off the counter. She had been in such a whirlwind in quitting, packing, and moving all her things back to her parents she had completely lost track of the days.  

“But if you’d like, you could be my date?” he offered, biting his lip in a shy smile. 

“Well, seeing as I’m really starting to like Christmas,” Pansy smiled and kissed him as her answer. 

❆HAPPY HOLIDAYS❆