Checkmate

Checkmate

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"Another game of chess?" Harry Potter eagerly asked his best friend, Ron Weasley.

"What's the point? I've slaughtered you every game tonight, not to mention every game we've played ever," Ron responded, nevertheless gathering up his chess pieces and setting them back on the board.

"No," Harry protested, "there was that one game in third year that was kind of close - I wouldn't say you slaughtered me."

"Yeah, I don't remember that, though, so it doesn't count," Ron said through a stifled yawn.

"It does if I say so," Harry countered as he took one of Ron's pawns. "Ha!" he yelled triumphantly in light of this great feat.

"Whatever, the point is, I still won," Ron muttered as he nonchalantly captured one of Harry's knights. "Ha!" he added as an afterthought, counteracting Harry's previous exclamation.

"Not this time, you won't," Harry said confidently, capturing yet another of Ron's pawns.

"You're already losing this game," Ron pointed out, gesturing at the board as he took one of Harry's bishops, which was shouting furiously at him as it was dragged off the board.

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised how quickly the tables can turn," Harry commented, bumping off yet another of Ron's pawns.

Ron seemed not to have heard this, though, as he was looking toward the corner of the Common Room where Hermione was packing her well-read copy of Numerology and Gramatica in her book bag. "Ugh, no, she's going to come over here and tell us to clear off 'cause it's midnight. And then she's gonna dump all that crap about prefect's duties on me and make me feel guilty about being down here - "

"You just don't want to talk to her because of that row you two had the other day about Viktor," Harry said wisely.

"Well, I don't see what business she has writing that git, Vicky, letters twenty rolls of parchment long all the time!" Ron snarled. "'Oh, Vicky, I miss you soooo much. I can't wait to come to Bulgaria next summer and snog you senseless - " he mimicked.

"That's not what she writes," Harry said dully. "And the only reason you're so mad about it is because you like her," he added.

A blush crept from the tips of Ron's ears and across his face in no time, making him look strikingly like a tomato. Utterly embarrassed, he instantly leapt up, beat red and fuming, "I - what makes you think - that's ridiculous - honestly, that I would like her - really, that's completely crazy, you're off your rocker - what if she heard you?!" he sputtered shrilly, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.

"She didn't," Harry reassured him calmly, moving on to take one of Ron's knights.

"Yeah, well, if I like Hermione, then you like Loony Lovegood," Ron spat heatedly as he sat back down, his face slightly less red, but his body still shaking with suppressed fury.

"I know," Harry said coolly, not even looking up from the chessboard. "And it'd be great if you would refrain from calling her 'Loony;' it's rude, you see."

Ron stared at Harry in shock for a moment, but quickly shook his head and turned to Hermione, who had finally managed to drag herself and her ridiculously heavy book bag over to their table.

"It's midnight," Hermione announced to them.

"Yeah, I know," Ron muttered grumpily, "and it would be great if we could put this game on hold and head on up to our dormitories. After all, I am a prefect, and it is after curfew, and we do have classes tomorrow, so there's really no good reason to be up this late, especially when I'm not working on homework," he recited, as if he'd heard that particular speech one too many times. "I've heard it before, 'Mione," he sighed.

Hermione gave him a confused look. "Tomorrow's Saturday, Ron."

"Oh."

"I was just saying it's getting late - anyhow, who's winning?"

"Who do you think?" Ron smirked.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure that you're ahead, Ron," Harry said mysteriously. Looking up at Hermione, he declared very matter-of-factly, "I'm going to win this game," and promptly returned his gaze to the board.

"I dunno what his deal is," Ron told Hermione, rolling his eyes. "He keeps making a big deal about beating me, saying he's going to win this one."

Hermione crossed her arms and frowned at him. "You shouldn't be so arrogant," she scolded. "I bet he does win."

Ron waved a hand unconcernedly at her. "Oh, rubbish," he chided teasingly. "I've never lost a game of chess in six years, especially not to Harry; this game's not going to be any different," he chuckled. "Really, dear Herm-o-ninny, I can't believe you would even suggest such a thing. Honestly, Harry beat me - really, that's the most ridiculous thing I've heard all day - Harry liking Loony included."

Hermione gave Ron the strangest of looks, but before she was able to say anything, Harry had managed to look up from the chessboard long enough to say, without the slightest trace of embarrassment, "Yeah, well, at least I can admit it when I like someone, unlike some people," he stressed, looking pointedly at Ron. "Oh, yeah, and don't call her 'Loony,'" he added before re-immersing himself in the chess game.

"Really, I don't know what's gotten into him," Ron said to Hermione, pointing his finger at his temple and rotating it in a clockwise motion.

"I saw that," Harry called without once looking up, while Hermione tried to stutter out that she was happy for Harry, not succeeding very well. She did, however, manage a spectacular imitation of Professor Quirrel.

"Erm, so, what's up with you lately?" Ron asked Hermione, searching desperately for a subject change.

"Oh, nothing much," Hermione said casually. "You ought to know - I've got homework and classes every waking hour, and then there's prefect duties on top of that. Boring and busy, that's me," she finished in a rather strained voice.

"What you need," Ron stated, as he moved a bishop, "is to relax. Lay off the homework for a bit, sleep through Binns' class, play a game of chess - against me, maybe. And lose, just as Harry will tonight."

"I'm going to win," Harry put in, staring determinedly down at the chessboard.

"I'm not going to sleep during Professor Binns' class!" Hermione shrieked, sounding scandalized.

"See, there's your problem," Ron proclaimed wryly. "I sleep through every one of his classes, and you see how well I get on," he grinned.

"Ron - "Hermione moaned exasperatedly.

"All right, all right, there are other ways of relaxing," he amended hastily. "Like, well, there's Quidditch, but then, that's not always relaxing, and you don't play anyway, so I guess maybe - "

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend on Valentine's Day," Hermione said quickly, her face flushing a bit pink. Ron stared at her.

"Yeah, that works," he said.

"Well, I'd been meaning to talk to you about it anyway," she began, wringing her hands and blushing a bit more.

"Uh-huh," Ron said, motioning for Hermione to continue.

"So, I was thinking," she said, making wild gestures with her hands as she searched for words, "we could go together," she finished nervously, blushing even harder.

"We always go together," Ron said stupidly. "You, me, and Harry."

"Well, see," she began, gesturing still more wildly with her hands, "that's the problem. I meant you and me."

"And Harry."

Hermione was unquestionably at a loss for words now, and was waving her hands about even more frantically. So Ron stood up and grabbed her hands, holding them tightly by the wrists, gazing intently into her eyes. Hermione's face was a deep, scarlet red and she looked incredibly embarrassed. She shook her head. "Not Harry," she whispered.

Not Harry? But that meant - Ron could feel himself blushing now - "Like a date, then?" he asked.

They stood that way for quite awhile; holding hands, looking into each other's eyes, faces viable shades of crimson from blushing. Finally, Hermione nodded. After a beat, a grin crept onto Ron's face. "Good," he said. And before he even knew what he was doing, Ron had stepped forward and kissed Hermione full on the mouth.

Hermione was a bit shocked at first, but once her mind was able to wrap itself around the fact that Ron was kissing her - finally - she leaned eagerly into the kiss. It was a feeling unlike anything she had ever experienced - more intense and passionate than all of her rows with Ron put together. Every inch of her was tingling with delight, and a red-hot jolt of passion was flowing through her veins. Overcome by the heat and warmth spreading throughout her body, but still longing for more, Hermione pressed up closer to Ron's body. As his hands released their grip on her wrists and found their way onto her hips, she entwined her hands in his vivid red hair. She wished the kiss could have lasted forever, but for lack of breath, she had to pull back.

Forehead resting on Ron's, gazing into his deep blue eyes, Hermione finally felt perfectly content. "So, is it a date, then?" she whispered.

Ron, being the typical clueless guy, had almost forgotten about their conversation prior to the kiss. "Is what a date?" he asked.

"Hogsmeade, silly," she replied, gently pushing a strand of orange hair off his forehead.

"Oh, that," Ron said, turning a bit pink but nevertheless grinning. "Of course it is. So long as we don't have to go to Madam Puddifoot's, that is," he added with a smirk.

"Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry about that," Hermione said, smiling back.

She was just about to lean in for another kiss when a completely oblivious Harry moved his bishop and triumphantly declared, "Checkmate!"

"I guess you lost after all," she said, smiling a bit.

"Nah," Ron grinned, looking directly at Hermione. "I won."

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-El fin