hellooooooo aw what a nice question and my goodness, where have you been! although agh this changes for me all the time depending on how well I am remembering things (usually whatever I’ve most recently read is freshest in my mind) but I answered a version of this recently. I would now add the percy chapter in TCG 2 (not any particular line, it’s just a chapter that does a lot of Work in kind of a subtle way) and many lines from the neville diary in Modern Romance, most notably “but this is the truth: nobody can ever tell you what you’re worth. you will never believe them over the things you tell yourself in secret.” definitely Stone’s Throw, definitely part IV of Alone With You in the Ether, definitely things I’m not currently remembering. 

I’m also quite fond of this, from The Immortality Project:

also this line from Awe of the Night Approaching, which I posted once before:

it was late.

beyond late, really, but it was the only way pansy could bring herself to go and see him.

she’d heard the news at breakfast that morning, via a gossiping daphne and company. 

“did you hear about weasley and lavender?” daphne gushed as the food appeared on their plates. 

pansy’s stomach flipped. ron and lavender were supposed to have been over. had he… no, he wouldn’t. would he?

“i overheard her talking to that patil friend of hers just now,” daphne started in, not waiting for their reactions. “weasley was apparently poisoned last night, or something.”

pansy couldn’t stop the gasp that left her throat. poisoned? her legs itched, begging to carry her out of the hall and to the hospital wing. 

but daphne didn’t notice, instead she continued on as if someone almost dying wasn’t even the good part of the story. “he’s in the infirmary now but… well, lavender’s just devastated,” daphne laughed, taking entirely too much enjoyment in the emotional downfall of the girl. 

“what?” pansy asked, trying to keep her tone even. 

“yeah, i guess she thought she’d swoop back in, take care of him until he came too and hope that he’d take her back.”

“why anyone would go through all that trouble for a weasley is beyond me,” millicent mumbled, poking at her breakfast but not actually eating it. 

“why is she devastated, though,” pansy pushed, trying to keep daphne talking until she could her level on internal panic to a manageable level. 

daphne laughed. she really was cruel. pansy eyed her under he bangs. she’d been like that, once. but times had changed, things had changed. 

“well,” daphne started, her eyes alight, “apparently lavender had been by his side all morning when he finally stirred and started mumbling. and she got all excited thinking he was trying to talk to her but then,” she stopped, pausing for dramatic effect, and pansy had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “then he said someone else’s name!” 

daphne and millicent fell into a fit of giggles but pansy’s heart dropped. 

“whose?” millicent manged to ask. 

“well that’s the mystery, isn’t it? she couldn’t make it out fully, but it definitely didn’t sound like lavender.” 

pansy wanted to leave, to run to him, but she couldn’t. not then, not in front of them. so she waited. 

and now she walked the dark halls, alone and hoping not to run into peeves. 

one of the doors to the infirmary was thankfully opened, but she was still careful to slip in as quietly as she could. 

luckily ron seemed to be the only patient there, and she found him quickly. 

there was a chair already near his bed, the one she assumed lavender had been in just this morning, but she sat in it just the same. 

it was then she realized she didn’t really know what to do. was she to take his hand? move his hair from his face? what did people do in this situation? when people they don’t want to admit they care deeply for are in such a state?

“you’re an idiot,” she mumbled, deciding to rest her hand on the bed near his hand. “i mean, really,” she continued softly. “poisoned? how do you even manage that?”

his eyelids fluttered and she startled. “pansy?” he mumbled, his voice thick and raw. she didn’t say anything, couldn’t. he swallowed and his eyes started to open. “i knew you’d come,” he whispered when he saw her. 

“really, weasley, if you wanted my attention you could have thought of something a little less dangerous.” 

his fingers twitched, searching for her hand. she let his fingers rest on hers, but didn’t move to actually hold his hand. “oh i’m fine,” he insisted, and it almost sounded as if he were drunk. 

“you could have died.” she snapped. she looked from his face down to his neck and shoulders, to his arms covered in pale white swirling scars. she thought of how he’d gotten those, and of the half a dozen other stories he’d told her of how he’d almost died. everyone of those had happened while he was with that damned harry potter. “you’re going to die,” she added sharply, “if you keep in with potter.”

he reached, and fully grabbed her hand. “shhh,” he said, closing his eyes. “you’re too shrill to be getting so upset, pomfrey will hear you.” 

she stared at him, watching him as he appeared to be drifting back to sleep, ignoring the dampness growing around her eyes. 

she heard her parents in her head, talking in hushed tones and half sentences about what was soon to come, about the dark lord and taking back of the wizarding world, returning it to what it was. 

she knew what that meant for him and his brash gryffindor sensibilities. she knew that he’d never truly abandon potter or granger, never give up the cause for anyone, even her. 

she knew that soon they’d be on opposite sides of a war

“Um, Hermione,” Ron started, just the tiniest bit tepid. “Don’t panic too much, but… Mr. Lovegood is chatting with your parents.” He nodded in their direction and Hermione’s attention followed. 

“Shit!” She handed her glass to Draco. “Hold my champagne,” she said, picking up the bottom of her ivory dress so as to not trip in her haste. 

Draco and Ron watched her cross the room in a moment of blissful ignorance, but the awkwardness of them being alone together quickly settled between them. 

Ron cleared his throat. “It was a-a beautiful ceremony,” he mumbled. 

Draco nodded, glancing about the room to avoid eye contact. “Thank you,” he said, drinking the rest of Hermione’s champagne in one gulp. 

Draco was just about to ask after the joke shop, grasping at anything to quell the tension, when he spotted Pansy heading their way. He let out a small breath, relaxing with relief, but saw that Ron was holding his breath, only growing more tense the closer she got. 

“You’re mother’s really out done her self with this reception,” Pansy gushed, motioning to the room around her.  

Draco nodded in agreement. “Her best work yet, I’d venture.” 

Pansy blinked, and seemed to realize who was standing beside him. “Weasley,” she greeted, a nearly flirtatious smile hiding in the corners of her mouth, “who knew you cleaned up so well?” 

“I- uh- thanks?” Ron shifted his weight and Pansy rolled her eyes, already bored before she’d even began. Draco saw the connection between them start to drift off and made a play for it. 

“Ron and I were just discussing the dull, muggle nature of most everyone’s attire,” he began, ignoring the dumb look on Ron’s face. 

Pansy glanced at Ron, skeptical that he could ever have anything to say about fashion. 

Ron, at a loss of what do to, just gave a nervous chuckle. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I-I mean I know Hermione’s muggleborn and all but-”

“But that doesn’t mean that everyone should blend into the scenery,” Draco picked up, saving Ron from himself. 

Pansy gave a small laugh. “They do, don’t they.” 

“Ron was actually just in the middle of joking about how everyone looked exactly the same when you walked up in that dress and rendered him speechless.” 

Pansy crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Ron who’s mouth moved, but didn’t produce any words. Draco jabbed his elbow into his arm. 

“Uh, yeah. Y-you definitely outshine everyone here,” Ron stammered. “Except Hermione, of course. What with her being the bride and all.” 

“Yes, of course,” Pansy said, as though she felt that last part was merely a formality. Her eyes darted from Ron to Draco, who gave her a quick, hardly noticeable yet encouraging look. Pansy pulled her shoulders back and straightened her spine. 

“I am absolutely parched,” she said, a hand going to her breastplate, eyes glancing to the beverage table. “I’m going to fetch a drink, and then I dare say I’ll be ready for a dance.” She smiled and cut her eyes back to Ron for a quick moment before turning on her heels and heading for her drink. 

“Wait, what?” Ron said, looking to Draco. “We’re you hitting on her for me?”

ron x pansy for the @hprarepairnet​ & @slytherdornet love song challenge | capsized,  you+me 

we were two ships in the night / passing by in the pale moonlight and capsized we were two ships in the night / hellbent on trying to survive and capsized 

his lips light a fire wherever they land, leaving blossoms of heat to radiate from her jaw, her neck, her clavicle. 

his hands, large and rough, grip at her hips, his dirty fingernails trying to get at her bones as he pulls her closer. 

he smells like earth and spice, liquor and smoke. 

she keeps her eyes shut tight, knowing that if she opens them she’ll see that treacherous flash of ginger hair and those all telling freckles splattered across his shoulders and she’ll lose her nerve. 

she can’t even remember how she’d gotten here, to this point, to straddling him of all people, feeling him pressing into her thigh even through his jeans, to being excited by it. 

it started like any other night, tucking herself away in some nondescript muggle bar and relishing in the fact that no one knew her or what she’d done. and suddenly he’s there, sitting on the stool next to her left, pretending not to notice her, polishing off one drink after another. 

and somehow it end in his dingy flat, on his hideous plaid sofa.

his arms wrap around her, holding her closer to him, tighter, so he can lift her into the air with out breaking from kiss and walk them across the room to his bed. 

his lips move further down, leaving a wildfire spreading through her stomach. 

without warning he pulls at her stockings, ripping them from their fasteners and down her legs and she can’t stop the mortifying gasp from escaping her throat

she feels him pause and finally looks down at him only to find wide, devilish smile spreading across his face and a hunger in his eyes. 

“fuck you, weasley,” she says, but instead of venom all that comes out is a breathy hiss of a whisper. 

his eyebrows quirk. “oh you’re gonna.” his hands grasp at the back of her knees and pull her further down the bed, closer to him as he dips his head.

seconds later and she can’t even keep herself propped up on her elbows. she sinks into the bed, her back arching, her head tilting farther back until she’s staring at the painting above his bed. 

a ship in a storm with the wind whipping at its sails. the sea lashing at its sides soon syncs up with the waves of pleasure that crash onto her, a pulsating warmth washing over her as her body goes slack.

she only faintly hears his belt, then his zipper. his buckle hits the floor and there’s a pressure on the bed between her legs as he kneels over her. 

a second wave, now adrenaline as her pride kicks in and she realizes she needs the upper hand again. she slips out from under him, spinning him down on to the bed, ignoring his chuckle of surprise and the excitement in his eyes. 

she straddles him, positions herself as he sits up and wraps his arms around her, kissing her wherever he can, nipping here and there. 

her focus stays on the painting as she lets the waves help her find the rhythm.

the night continues on in a blur, a hurricane of ecstasy and battling emotions with that stormy ship at the eye. by the end of it all they’re somehow on the floor, panting and sweating and barely even awake and yet she can’t help but stare at the painting.

she feels like the ship, lost at sea in a terrible storm, not knowing what’s going to happen next. and she looks over to him, hand resting on his heaving chest, eyes closed, and can’t help but ask. 

“why do you even have that painting?” 

he looks confused for a second, then lifts his head to look at the spot above his bed. “oh,” he sighs, his head hitting the floor. “it was just a gift,” he says but she has a feeling it’s not the truth. “was that what you were thinking about this whole time?” there’s no wounded ego or hurt feelings in his question, just self depreciation and humor.

she rolls her eyes but doesn’t answer. he’s quiet for a second and then, “there’s another ship, way in the back. i like to think they help each other out of the storm.” 

she’s taken aback, looks at him. he’s staring, searching for something in her, as if he knows there’s more to her than what she puts out.

and she can’t stand it.

“Not today,” Pansy mumbled to herself as Ron walked through the door of her shop. She had way too much on her plate as it was, she couldn’t deal with Ron as well. “Not today,” she said again ash huffed and hurried over to him, her heels clicking rapidly on the marble floor. 

“Hey,” he greeted casually, a goofy smile on his face. “I was just in the area and-”

“You have to stop doing this,” she demanded in a harsh whisper, a hand on his arm trying to turn him around as she looked over her shoulder for any customers that might see him.

He laughed and pulled his arm from her grasp. “Doing what?” His voice was much too loud. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing. This is my boutique, my business, you shouldn’t be here when the sun is out.” 

Ron put a hand over his heart in faux heartbreak. “Are you ashamed of me Parkinson?” 

“Yes, extremely, now go.” She pushed again on his arm and he allowed her to move him closer to the door. He glanced over her head and smiled, then quickly dipped his head to pull her lips to his and wrapped an arm around her waist to bring her closer. 

Her knees weakened and a warm vibrations grew in her chest and radiated through out her body. Her hands gripped his arms again but this time it was to pull him in. Then, just as quickly as it’d started, it ended and he was towering over her with a lopsided but smug smile on his face. 

“I guess I’ll have to see you later tonight then.”

but then i have to have surgery five days later so i can’t really celebrate it like i wanted to (getting lit in new orleans)