The Dungeons

Dear Pansy,

I've tried to write this note at least twenty times now, and managed to convince myself every single time that it's a bad idea, or I'm mad, or you'll laugh at me for being such an idiot. Well, perhaps the latter you should, given the way I'm fumbling about here. I suppose I'm hoping you'll think it's a charming Gryffindor quirk.

I know I'm a Weasley and you're a Parkinson and never the the twain should meet lest the world go spinning off its axis into oblivion, but, well, we already did that, right? And the world's still here. And I suppose I'm hoping that if Harry and Draco can get past seven years of loathing each other without the space-time continuum collapsing on itself, and if Elle and my brother Charlie can sort through the whole Gryffindor and Slytherin conundrum, then maybe you wouldn't object to me taking you to dinner one night this week?

Ginny

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Along with the note is one late-blooming white rose from the garden at Celyn Cottage.

Dear Ginny,

Finally. I'm glad to hear from you. You do remember I had told you to stay in touch? And yes, that kind of touch, too. I wouldn't have said so if I hadn't meant it.

I did feel the world move a bit that night, but yes, it did not spin off of its axis in the broader sense. So perhaps we can risk it again. I'm not sure the space-time continuum is safe, but I daren't ask Draco.

How's Thursday?

Pansy

PS The rose is lovely. Thank you.