time: 6:30pm location: faculty lounge status: @gincvra
“dreadfully boring,” pansy says, as she lets her body fall next to ginny’s, trying not to get her clothes creased. “we have to perform a waltz, be pleasant, hold proper conversation over dinner, and not get absolutely shit-faced while doing so? why didn’t they put that in the orientation pamphlets?” they’re sitting on the floor, backs against a surprisingly comfortable couch as blaise, neville, draco and luna make conversation in the background. the sun necklace burns a hole in her pocket, but instead, she turns to ginny.
“i’m assuming you’re not particularly pleased with your… waltz partner?” she takes a quick look at neville, thinks of their conversation mere hours ago. “i’d offer to trade but i think neville’s still scared of me, and nobody wants to talk to mcgonagall about changes in the itinerary today.” she presses her fingers against ginny’s forearm, tracing random symbols on her skin. “plus, blaise wouldn’t have it. if you learn how to waltz with someone, you’re bound to be partners for life.”
ginny smiles in spite of herself, her head bows forward in defeat to the unwanted grin pansy finds in her, and coaxes out. “you say that like anyone but you actually read those pamphlets,” she teases.
a sardonic laugh leaves her before she can swallow it, her eyes open to find the back of neville’s head. “neville taught me how to waltz. sort of. so maybe we’re bound to be as well. besides, it... it can’t be that bad,” she mutters. how much more could she disappoint neville? she anticipates the shared awkwardness, she only hopes that awkwardness is all that is shared between them. “and if it is, you are cordially invited to get shit-faced with me in the garden right after. maybe even teach me how to dance properly while you’re at it.”
her head finds its resting place on pansy’s shoulder, as her eyes follow the fingers trawling along her forearm. her forearm flexes under the tickling touches. “besides, i don’t know why you’re dreading tonight. isn’t this what you were trained to do? make small talk, play nice, and prance? i can just imagine little pantheia and little blaise learning how to waltz. so proud to show everyone at the next big societal ass-kissing party,” she jibes, as she tries to hide her smirk, all too wide and all too pleased with herself, in pansy’s shoulder.















