The Game of Risk

DISCLAIMER: "This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended."

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Chapter Three:

Let the Games Begin

After I had calmed down and dried my eyes, I trudged back down the staircase to the Common Room. The room was mostly empty except for a few mischievous fifth years plotting their next prank and...Ron and Harry playing a game of Wizard's Chess. I feel the anger boil my blood as I watch Ron laughing carelessly. I walk up to them and stand facing Ron with my arms crossed and my gaze cold. Harry greets me casually, but I ignore him. Ron looks up and I notice a glimmer of fear in his eye, which he immediately attempts to disguise with light-hearted conversation.

"How long?" I demand harshly.

"What?" he asked dumbfounded.

"You and Lavender. How long has it been going on?"

Ron glanced around the room, probably wondering if anyone was listening to our conversation. He sighed and mumbled, "A few days."

"A few days?" I repeated in astonishment. "How come this is the first I've heard of it?"

"I...well, Lavender and I..." he stuttered, "We were sort of worried how you would take it."

"So you were trying to hide it from me when you knew I was bound to find out sooner or later?"

"I didn't want to hurt you, Hermione," Ron said quietly, his eyes on the floor.

"So you started dating her behind my back?" I exclaimed. "Dammit Ron, I don't understand you at all! What kind of logic is that? You don't want to hurt me, so you keep it a secret from me knowing well enough that I'll find out? You're pathetic!"

"Listen, Hermione, I'm sorry," Ron pleaded. "I should have told you before."

"I can't believe I didn't see this coming," I said more to myself than to Ron. "You two have been spending a lot of time together." I sighed, wishing away the tears that were filling my eyes. "Ron, I thought you loved me."

"And I thought you loved me," he retaliated, looking me in the eye with determination. "Get over it, Hermione. I've been waiting around for you for months. You have shown my nothing besides friendship. A guy can only wait so long. Can you blame me for moving on?"

"But, Ron, I'm standing right here!" I begged, throwing my dignity aside. "I didn't know you feel the same way I do! We can be happy again...together."

"No, Hermione," he said sternly. "I had feelings for you. Now those feelings are for Lavender. Can you just please accept it? I don't want this to ruin our friendship."

"You think we can still be friends?" I asked cynically as I wiped away my fallen tears.

"Of course, Hermione," he said with a smile. "You've been a great friend for the past six years, and I don't want to loose you. I want to be able to count on you to bug me into doing my homework and to be the logical thinker when Harry and I take you on our dangerous adventures. Please, Hermione, say we can still be friends."

I was about to shoot him down when a brilliant plan developed in my mind. My lips curled into a smirk and replied, "Of course we can, Ron." I looked at my watch; it was almost ten o'clock. As Head Girl I sometimes had the responsibility of patrolling the halls after curfew. Tonight was one of those nights. I watched Harry and Ron finish their game of chess and then headed back upstairs to my room for my cloak. It was cold everywhere in the castle except in front of the fire. I said goodbye to the boys and made my way out of Gryffindor Tower to begin exercising my authority as Head Girl.

I walked in a daze through the castle. I found myself walking down the stairwell to the dungeons. As soon as I reached the dark haven, I felt free. I felt like I was no longer trying to hide behind a strong façade. All of the pain I was feeling resurfaced; all of the tears I was harboring fell. I was glad to be in the secret darkness of the dungeons. I glanced around to assure my solitude. I leaned against the cold stone wall and lowered my shaking body to the floor. My painful sobs resounded through the long corridor.

I had thought I would be safe to express myself in the dungeon corridor. I had thought I could cry out my tears until the pain was relieved. I had thought I was alone.

I didn't hear his hollow footsteps as he approached. I didn't feel an intrusion when he knelt down beside me. It wasn't until he whispered in my ear that I realized he was there.

"What's the matter, Mudblood, scared of the dark?" drawled the silky voice of Draco Malfoy.

My head snapped up and I glared at the pale-skinned Head Boy. I hastily wiped my tears with my sleeve and made to stand up, but my weak knees would not support me and I fell back to the floor. Not up to toy with Malfoy's childish taunting, I sighed and leaned my head against the wall. When I didn't retaliate after Malfoy's lame comment, he studied me with curiosity.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, the silk gone from his voice.

"What does it look like?" I snapped, annoyed.

Malfoy took a seat next to me, leaning his back against the wall and regarding me carefully. "It looks like you're curled up in the dungeon corridor crying your eyes out."

"How observant of you," I remarked sarcastically.

There was a long moment of silence. Malfoy and I sat next to each other without a tennis match of rude remarks for the first time in our history of hatred. For that moment I actually felt like I could look at him like I could any other guy. Out of the corner of my eye I regarded how he had matured over the summer. His blond hair was longer than it had been. It reached his jawline and fell in his eyes. His body was fine-toned and muscular. For that moment I looked at him and saw him as more than "ferret-boy" or Lucius' spawn or even a Death-Eater-in-Training. I actually saw him as good-looking. He was well beyond the title of "boy", unlike Ron, Harry, or any of the other boys Hermione familiarized herself with. Draco Malfoy was a very sexy man.

I was jerked back to reality with Malfoy's demanding question:

"Why?"

"Why, what?" I repeated, knowing full well what he meant. I was trying to stall, and judging by the smirk on his face, he knew it as well.

"Why are you sitting on the cold floor of the dungeon corridor in the middle of the night crying yourself hoarse?" he explained mockingly.

"Thank you for clarifying," I said, mimicking his smirk and sarcasm. I sighed loudly and turned away from him, staring blindly into the surrounding darkness. "I'm not really sure..."

"Of course you are, Granger," he said persistently. "Why are you crying?"

Suddenly, my blood started to boil again. My head snapped to face him, and I glared at him. "Why do you care?" I spat angrily. "You never did before. You couldn't have cared less; hell, you would've liked to see me dead! So why do you suddenly care what's going wrong in my life?"

"Calm down, Granger," he said as he held up his hand in mock-surrender. "I don't care about you. I just don't feel like strolling around the halls for another hour. I figure a conversation will pass the time, even if it is with a Mudblood."

"If you don't like the responsibilities, why did you accept the position as Head Boy?" I asked harshly.

"Oh, please, Granger, don't even pretend like you enjoy walking these halls instead of getting well-deserved rest...or partying, in my case," he added with a smirk.

"I enjoy the solitude," I spat angrily. The little ferret had the uncanny ability to annoy me with nothing more than a few well-chosen words.

"Well, so do I," he said quietly, the sarcasm absent from his response.

"You?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I like a little time to myself?" he asked.

"Not at all," I answered sincerely. I elbowed him jokingly. "Little Parkinson giving you trouble?"

"You have no idea!" he exasperated. "Actually, you probably do. Still dating Weasley?"

Immediately the lighthearted atmosphere disappeared and was replaced with a suffocating cloud of tension.

"Uh...no," I said in a small voice. "We broke up at the end of last year and nothing has started up again."

"You could've fooled me," Malfoy said mockingly.

"Well, I was fooled, too, as a matter of fact," I remarked cynically. Without realizing what I was saying, I found myself spilling the whole story to my enemy of the past six and a half years. Surprisingly, it felt good to talk to someone who wasn't biased on the situation. I never felt right complaining to Ginny about her own brother, and now I couldn't talk to Lavender. I pushed away any thought that I might have actually enjoyed talking to Malfoy, and simply convinced myself that he had been in the right place at the right time. When I finished my story, my face wet and shining with uncontrolled tears, we sat in silence for a long time.

Finally, Malfoy broke the silence.

"He doesn't deserve you," he said quietly. My head snapped to face him, confused by his remark. He didn't look at me, but continued to look straight ahead. "He's too immature to know how to treat a woman properly. He might grow up one day but--" he turned slowly to face me "--he's not worth wasting the best years of your life waiting for him to grow up."

"It's not that," I said defensively. "I think he just likes making me jealous."

"Of course he does," Malfoy said with a laugh. "He may be immature, but he's still a normal guy. Why have the affections of one girl when you can have them fight over you? Besides, it's the ones we can't have that we can't live without."

The lightbulb in my head switched on. The plan that had been floating in my mind finally made sense. No one would play a better role in it than the man sitting next to me.

"Malfoy, I have an idea," I said seriously. He regarded me with his undivided attention. "How would you like to play a little game?"

"A game?" he repeated with interest. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well..." I hastily gathered my thoughts, "I want to attack the 'normal guy' in Ron. You said guys want who they can't have, so what if I was no longer available to Ron? What if I no longer doted over him, but instead...?"

"Over someone he despised?" Malfoy finished with a glint of mischief in his eye.

I winked. "Exactly. So what do you say? Can you help me?"

"What do you mean by 'a little game'?" he asked.

"The Yule Ball is this weekend. I need you to take me as your date, after which we will pose as Hogwarts' controversial couple," I explained. I felt a blush creeping into my cheeks and was glad the corridor was dark.

Malfoy stroked the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "What's in it for me?" he asked carefully.

"Do you have anything in mind?" I replied. I had to be careful with him. I knew the Slytherin King's reputation.

"Actually, I do..." I said slowly. I reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of my face. I slapped his hand away angrily.

"Not on your life, you sick bastard!" I exclaimed, offended.

Malfoy started laughing. "Relax, I'm just joking, I don't want that from you. What I want is for you to write my Seventh Year Dissertation."

My jaw dropped and my breath caught in my throat. "Your Seventh Year Dissertation?! You must be insane, Malfoy! Do you know how much work that paper is?"

"Of course I do," he remarked casually. "That's why I want you to write it."

"No way, there's no way," I said shaking my head.

"No dissertation, no deal," he said, making moves to get up. I grabbed his muscular forearm to stop him.

"Let's compromise," I begged. He appeared to be willing to consider, so I continued. "You outline your dissertation, and I'll write the final draft."

Malfoy leaned against the stone wall and thought over the compromise. I watched him as my heart raced. I held my breath as he considered his options. Finally he turned to me and held out his right hand.

"Deal," he said. "Will you come to the ball with me, Hermione?"

I shook his hand in a business-like manner. "I would be delighted, Draco."

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[A/n]: Special thanks to all my reviewers, I love you all!!! I hope you liked this chapter...hey, why don't you review so I know? Please, I love reviews!! Much luv&thnx ~m.o.e.