Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor am I the wonderful JK Rowling.

A/N: There are a couple not-quite-PG words and a brief encounter within this oneshot, but I didn't feel it was so bad that it would have to be rated M so I stuck it as T. Also, implications of Dramione.

I guess this gives you all an insight to my other Harry Potter ships, which are pretty much all non-canon (with the exception of a few). This was written for a friend after discussing some Ransy headcanons about their home life/first date. I just couldn't resist! I hope you all enjoy reading this, and reviews/PMs are most welcome!

Ron slouched in his chair, staring down at his hands as he fidgeted with them. He could feel his stomach on the edge of another growl and cursed his mystery date under his breath for being so late. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he'd arrived but he was adamant that it had been too long. If she doesn't turn up soon, he promised himself, I'm ordering without her.

It wasn't as if he wanted to be on this date, anyway. It was all Hermione's idea and he had stupidly gone along with it. Although, he wouldn't have if Harry had not agreed with her.

Hermione complained that Ron dedicated too much time to his work – he was quick to point out how hypocritical that statement was, but Hermione just brushed it off with an irate look that Ron had finally learnt was a signal to back off. So what if he did? Ron enjoyed working for George and, though it was sometimes stressful, it was fun and he would never dream of giving it up or putting it on the backburner. Dating just wasn't in his interests at the moment but Hermione had said it was a brilliant idea. Looking to Harry for back up wasn't as helpful as Ron had hoped either.

"I'm not saying you're over-working yourself, mate," he had said, earning a glare from Hermione since that was exactly the point she was trying to make and Harry was shooting it down when he should be building it up. "But maybe you should give this dating thing a go? Let off some steam? It could be good for you."

Hermione offered to set him up on a blind date and he reluctantly agreed, claiming that he was only doing this because they were his best friends and if anything went wrong he wouldn't be dating again. Not for a long time. What made him feel uneasy, though, wasn't the fact he was going on a date he didn't want, nor was it the triumphant smile that Hermione wore knowing that she had succeeded – no, he was used to that. It was, however, a glint in Hermione's eyes; a tiny glimmer of something between scheming and amusement and Ron wasn't at all comfortable with it. Instead of confronting her about it, he had just shook his head and muttered something under his breath along the lines of "the Ferret's a bad influence on you, you know."

Ron felt his stomach growl for the third time since his arrival and suddenly lost it. If his date was willing to turn up late, they would have to live with the consequence of him ordering before they got here. He snapped his head up, ready to glance around in search of a waiter or waitress to bring him a menu when something else caught his eye – jet black hair and a familiar scowl. A bubble of anger floated up from his gut and into his chest.

"Parkinson?"

Pansy jumped at the sound of her name and glanced over her shoulder and, for a second, vulnerability fluttered across her features. She had noticed Ron once she had approached the table and, realising that he was her blind date tried to make an escape but that hadn't worked out the way she hoped. Re-applying her hard mask of indifference, she turned her body ever so slightly to face the table and made her way back over.

"Weasley," she said, taking her seat across from him, her back straight as a poker and her scowl revealing how much she didn't want to be there.

"Wait, you're my da- were you trying to ditch me?" Ron asked, trying to hide his amusement. Although the thought of dating Pansy Parkinson, of all people, was fairly disturbing to Ron, he couldn't help but be tickled by the image of Pansy trying to tip-toe away in a long, silk dress and elegant robes. It was a moment he was sure he'd never forget.

Dark pink stained her cheeks in blotches, though it could have easily been pulled off as make-up.

"No," she mumbled, eyes blazing. It reminded him of Hermione when she was angry.

Ron just smirked and pushed his back into the back of the chair. He folded his arms and tried his best at pulling off the 'nonchalant' look.

"Yes, you were. You were running away from me. Am I honestly that bad?"

Pansy rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Yes, Weasley, you honestly are. If Draco were not one of my best friends, I never would have agreed to this in the first place. And let me tell you," she said, her expression darkening. "He will not be getting let off easy for this when I get hold of him."

Ron's smirk disappeared. He knew exactly how she felt. Neither Hermione nor Malfoy would be getting off scot-free on his watch, either.

"I could hex him! He always hated Tickling Charms, or maybe I could curse boils to appear all over his face… Or horns to come out the top of his head- that would really piss him off…" Pansy muttered to herself, evoking a smile from Ron although he quickly hid his mouth before she could notice.

"Well, you'll be lucky if you even manage to do any of those things. I'll have him bent and buckled over the toilet throwing up trumpets by the end of the night," Pansy turned her attention to him and raised her eyebrow. "Believe me, it's not a pretty sight. Or sound, either. All the gagging and wheezing sort of makes these whiney, squeal-y sounds from the trumpets – it's sort of like a-"

"Shut up, Weasley," Pansy said, half-smiling at his nonsensical rambling.

Ron tried his hardest to restrain the goofy smile that was threatening to erupt across his lips, but his restraint was only about 70% successful and some of his amusement broke through.

"Or," he began, again, "I could call in a favour with George. Did you know he has these sweets – Boner Bon-Bons, I think he calls them – that act as some sort of," he lowered his tone, "Erectile Dysfunction remedy?"

"You're only supposed to take one for it to be effective, and no more, but if someone were to accidentally swap Malfoy's sweets with one of a different brand without him knowing, and he just happened to take a few more than the suggested dose, then who knows what effects it might have," he said, his eyes glinting with joy. Ron was now leaning across the table, resting his torso on his still-crossed forearms. "Would be such a shame, don't you think?"

Pansy's expression went from shocked to hysterical within seconds. Her straight posture slouched into a more comfortable and at-ease position as she laughed heartily and, more surprisingly, genuinely at Ron's suggestion. Ron couldn't help but notice that Pansy was rather beautiful when she was laughing.

"You know," she started once she had calmed down, "that is a very devious idea. I could almost be surprised you were not a Slytherin."

Ron scrunched his face in disgust.

"Woah, slow down! I wouldn't go that far."

Pansy smiled a casual, breezy smile. Ron thought it made her face light up in ways he would never have thought possible.

"Maybe not Slytherin, then, but you're not as bad as I thought, Weasley," she said.

"Yeah," Ron thought aloud, allowing himself to smile also, "neither are you, Parkinson."

It was then, as if right on time, that a waitress interrupted their conversation to pass them some menus. Funnily enough, Ron had forgotten all about his ever-growing hunger.

They both read through the menus and picked what they wanted within seconds. Ron raised his eyebrow as Pansy placed down hers and announced that she was ready to order whenever he was, and smiled. It had been awhile since he had been to dinner with someone who didn't take half an hour to choose and then deciding to change what they wanted whilst they were ordering- actually, he was unsure that he had ever been to dinner with someone who didn't do that. It was refreshing to have a change, especially one that meant he could eat food sooner rather than later.

"Me too," he said, placing down his own menu across his plate. He leant in closer to Pansy again and spoke in hushed tones. "I wouldn't advise looking, but you'll never guess what two loving, and incredibly intrusive friends of ours are hiding in the corner booth?"

Pansy's eyes widened. "No!" she gasped in shock, the hairs prickling on the back of her neck.

"Yup," he confirmed. "I know that we aren't the best of friends – well, to be honest, we've never really liked each other – but what do you say we start our revenge tonight? They're clearly doing this for their entertainment and hoping that this will turn pear-shaped, so why don't we pretend otherwise?"

Pansy smirked, unfamiliar admiration dancing in her eyes.

"I always thought Granger was the brains of the group," she admitted, laughing slightly. Ron grinned goofily at the compliment.

Pansy then slipped her hand across the table and caught Ron's own, squeezing it lightly. They both smirked at each other and Pansy proceeded to compliment Ron further, telling him that the devious, cocky look suited him.

"You should do the whole "scheming" thing more often," she said.

"Yes, we should," he replied, purposely switching pronouns.

Pansy caught on blushed furiously at his implication, earning another goofy grin from Ron. The rose-cheeked look really suited her.

"Where did they go? They only just walked out here," Hermione asked, glancing from left to right. The road in front of them was cobbled and very narrow so it was unlikely they could have hidden anywhere or ran away without still being in sight.

"Probably apparated away from each other as quickly as they could," Draco scoffed. "Couldn't stand another moment in each other's company, I think." Draco straightened his posture and done up the buttons of his coat, walking behind Hermione as she investigated the area – not that it was necessary.

"Well, they certainly looked like they were enjoying each other's company tonight, Draco," she challenged, raising her eyebrow. Ron and Pansy had been acting close all night and Hermione was baffled that Draco still thought they hated each other.

"Don't you see, Hermione? It was all a show! Put on for you and me to push us off course and think that our plan was ruined!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, unwilling to encourage his silly ideas. Although, apparently he didn't need Hermione's encouragement and was happy enough to continue, regardless.

"I bet it was Weasley's idea. He does look the epitome of stupid but there must be something there, otherwise he wouldn't have secured his old job as an Auror, would he?" he rambled. Hermione stopped in her tracks and Draco did the same, although his gaze was fixed on the bottom button of his coat. It was stubborn and refusing to fasten properly – damn Muggle fashion!

"I doubt it was Pansy's. She'd never associate herself with the Weasel, even to get back at me- although, according to that logic she wouldn't have agreed to his plan to sabotage us, so that would mean… No, of course not." Draco shook his head and scoffed at his own idiocy, taking out his wand in the process. "Of course she couldn't!" he said, using magic to fasten that persistent button and sliding his wand back into his pocket. "Pansy would never dare lower her standards to a Gryff-"

It was then that Draco had looked up and followed Hermione's gaze. It was then that he realised they had stopped, and why – because across the road, in the dark alleyway, pinned up against the brick wall was Pansy. And she was being pinned up by none other than the- the-

"Weasel!" Draco hissed, and Hermione swatted him across the arm.

Ron's hands were all over her, roaming her body and appreciating every curve, while his mouth done some appreciating of its own, too. The kiss wasn't put on – not for Draco or Hermione or anyone that happened to walk past – it was real and fiery and passionate. It was years of pent-up anger and hatred, months of insulting each other across parties and Ministry Gala's, and a night's worth of realising all this was a cover for their burning lust for one another.

And Draco thought he was about to throw up.

"What was that you said? 'She'd never associate herself with Ron'?"

"'The Weasel.' I said she'd never associate herself with 'the Weasel'," he corrected, his face turning a sickly pale. He tried to spit his words out in hatred but he was too appalled by the scene in front of him to do anything whole-heartedly.

"Hm," Hermione mumbled, unimpressed, "and what was that about lowering standards to Gryffindors?"

That, however, got Draco's full attention. The colour returned to his cheeks in thick, dark red blotches. He whipped his head around to look at Hermione and spluttered, trying to find the right words to correct this situation but there were none.

"Hermione, I-"

Hermione cut him off with sudden raise of her palm. The expression on her face was less than pleasant and Draco waited in anticipation of what she was going to say next, his Adam's Apple bobbing nervously in his throat despite the hard, indifferent expression he wore. Except, she didn't say anything – which was ultimately worse than her going off in a tangent. Instead, she grabbed onto Draco's bicep and apparated them back to their flat.

Things had certainly turned out differently than expected. There was one thing, however, that Ron had been able to predict – Draco did end up spending that night throwing up various orchestral instruments. Though it wasn't Ron who had cursed him that way.