This Dance We Do

Chapter 7: Chess Skills

Ron and Hermione ate lunch in silence, aside from Hermione's huffs and scoffs. Ron decided that it might be a threat to his personal well being if he tried to argue Harry's point, so he said nothing as he ate. After lunch, Ron suggested a game of Wizard's Chess. Hermione glared at him, but did not seem to be able to find a problem with his suggestion, so she conceded.

Ron really did not feel right beating her game after game. Whenever Hermione was in a temper she never played well, and his attempts to let her win did not help matters.

"You saw that I would be able to take your rook, Ron."

"No, I didn't. How could you know what I did and did not see?"

"Because it was blatantly obvious. You reached for your knight to take my queen, but then you changed tactics and simply moved a pawn. I've watched you play enough chess games to know your methods, and I know when you try to let me win. If you're not going to actually play I'm going to go up to my room and read."

Ron simply looked at her. "Fine," he moved his bishop five spaces, "checkmate."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, then settled on glaring at Ron in indignation. She opened her mouth once again, clearly to tell Ron off for being cheeky.

"You did tell him not to let you win, you know."

Both Ron and Hermione whipped around to see Harry leaning casually against the door frame. Ron watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye, ready to intervene if he had to. It was obvious that two very strong emotions were battling within Hermione: part of her wanted to tell Harry off for being so rude all day, but another part of her knew that his coming downstairs on his own was a very good sign.

It seemed that logic won out, because Hermione simply smiled and said sweetly, "Harry! Did you have a good rest?"

Harry shot Ron a look that said that he was worried for Hermione's sanity.

"Yeah, pretty good, thanks." Harry sat down next to Ron. "You mind if I play her before I play you? I haven't played in a while and I'd like to warm up first."

Ron struggled to hide his smirk and had to bite the inside of his mouth against the laughter that was trying to bubble up at the sight of Hermione's face.

"Just what are you implying about my chess skills, Mr. Potter?"

"Nothing, Ms. Granger," Harry said innocently as he began to set the pieces back in their correct places, "aside from the fact that they're a bit shoddy."

Hermione let out a cry of indignation as Ron whooped with laughter. Harry simply carried on setting up his side of the board as if he did not realize what was going on around him.

Realizing that his friend's safety was in jeopardy, Ron spoke up.

"They're not shoddy, per se, just not as good as everything else you do." Harry rolled his eyes dramatically as Hermione turned on Ron. He held his hands up in front of him. "Don't snap at me, okay? It's just, well, Harry has Quidditch, I have chess, and you have everything else."

Ron silently prayed that just this once stroking Hermione's ego would do the trick. It did. Sort of.

"That still doesn't make my chess skills shoddy; just not as good as yours or Harry's."

"Oh, for the love of hippogriffs!" Harry exclaimed. "Fine, prove your wonderful chess skills to us then!"

Hermione continued to stare sullenly at the board. Ron knew the silent battle that was being waged behind her clouded eyes. On the one hand, she knew just as well as Harry and Ron did that she was terrible at chess; on the other, she hated admitting that she could not do something.

Ron stretched out his leg and poked her ribs with his sock-covered big toe in an attempt to spur her to life. Hermione jumped and squeaked, clasping her side where Ron made contact. Suddenly, he had an idea. He turned to Harry in hopes of silently communicating what he planned to do without alerting Hermione. It seemed that Harry had much the same idea, because when Ron met his eyes they were gleaming. Harry nodded ever so slightly and they both turned back to the chess board.

All at once they sprang to life and attacked Hermione. Ron took both her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head while Harry restrained her ankles. Ron poised his fingers above Hermione's ribs, and Harry followed suit.

"Okay, Hermione. We're going to give you one last chance to admit that you can't play chess." Ron wiggled his fingers threateningly.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh?"

At that moment Ron and Harry began a simultaneous attack on Hermione, tickling her ribs and her hips, causing her to squirm, buck, writhe, and giggle.

"No! No--Ron--stop! Harry--please!" She screamed as Ron tickled a particularly sensitive spot on her hip. Hermione kicked her legs in an attempt to get Harry off of her, narrowly missing catching his cheek with her knee. Harry cautiously laid himself over her knees to prevent any possible damage.

"Come on, Hermione, admit it," Harry said as he moved to tickle her feet. "Admit it and we'll stop."

"Fine! Fine! I'll admit it!" Ron and Harry paused, but did not move. They looked pointedly at Hermione and waited for her to catch her breath. "I'm a shoddy chess player, all right? Now get off me."

Harry looked at Ron and said, in a very good impression of Fred, "Is that good enough for you?"

"Yes, I do believe it is," Ron said in his best impression of George, "but I do believe we could make our point clear, don't you?"

"Yes, indeed."

"No!" Hermione began to scream and laugh again as Ron and Harry continued to attack her most ticklish spots.

Ron was just in the middle of considering whether he should see if her belly was ticklish when he heard someone clear their throat. He and Harry stopped dead and looked up at the doorway to see Mr. Granger watching the whole situation with a slightly bemused expression on his face. The room went silent, save for Hermione's ragged breathing.

"Um...Eileen just sent me to tell you lot that dinner's ready and the table needs setting." He turned to leave the room, but paused, and added in a conspiratorial tone to Ron and Harry, "She's really ticklish behind the knee."

"Daddy! No!" Hermione shrieked as Ron and Harry began a new attack.

They sat down to dinner ten minutes later, red faced and gasping for breath, Harry with a bruise forming where Hermione's knee had finally connected with his face, and began discussing their plans for the next day.

Ron dragged himself out of bed at an ungodly hour the next morning. They had decided that they would go into London today so that Harry could get his swimming trunks and they could finally start making use of the local swimming hole.

Ron groggily stumbled down the stairs, pulling a shirt on over his head as he went. When he reached the breakfast table, he found Harry half asleep and almost falling into his plate of eggs. Ron elbowed him hard in the ribs before turning to his own plate, which Hermione had kindly fixed for him.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione was as awake as ever. She was writing something busily on a piece of parchment as she sipped a cup of tea.

"Hermione?"

"Mmm?"

"Whatcha writing?"

"I'm making a list of the places I'd like to show you and shops to take you and Harry to."

Ron nodded and ate his breakfast. Of course, this was Hermione, she had lists for everything. Why did he even bother asking?

They ate breakfast in a sleepy silence, occasionally interrupted by Hermione's quill scratching as she continued to write out her growing list. When they all had finished, Ron and Harry huddled near the fireplace as Hermione dug around for the Floo Powder.

"Now, just step out when you reach the Leaky Cauldron. We'll go to Gringotts first, then we can make our way around Muggle London, all right?"

Ron nodded unconcernedly as he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, tossed it into the fire, and stepped into the pleasant green flames.

"Diagon Alley!"