Disclaimer: I don't own stuff. J.K. Rowling does.

Chess?

"Chess, Hermione?" Ron offered softly, trying not to disturb the quiet atmosphere of the common room in the evening.

"Sure, just let me finish this chapter," I responded, not looking up from my book.

"How many more pages?" he asked me cautiously.

"Dunno," I sighed.

"Check, then," he suggested.

"You know, I'll finish faster if you stop talking," I informed him coolly.

"How about you play now, read later?" he asked hopefully.

"No," I replied, not annoyed enough to come up with a better retort.

"Please, 'Mione?" Ron pleaded, his voice growing louder.

"Ronald, shush, I'm almost done." I did my best to ignore him as he crawled over to me and peered over the edge of my book.

"No, you're not. You'll take hours." He accused loudly.

"I will not," I answered decisively.

"Will too," he argued, his voice louder than any other noise in the room. I glanced around, seeing how many people were staring at us.

"Shhh! Stop it, Ron. I'll be finished in five minutes." I told him sternly. His expression went from surprised to chagrin to angry to mischievous to determined, all in a matter of a few seconds. I impressed myself by catching and identifying each one.

"No," he said with a finality that surprised me. "You're finished now." And he snatched my book from my hands so quickly I barely saw it.

"Hey!" I protested loudly, forgetting the other fifty people in the common room. Even after standing, Ron was at least a head taller than me. He held the book high above both our heads, stretching his arm up as high as it would reach.

"Play chess and you'll get it back," he urged.

"Give it back and then I'll play," I revised.

"Nope," he smirked as I stood on my tiptoes and jumped as high as I could, still not even close to reaching the book.

"It's sad, is what it is." I screamed at him, frustrated. "You're so bloody blind that you think you have to force me to spend time with you? Two more minutes, was all I needed, and then I would have happily lost to you in chess…again. You're so thick, you know that?" I ranted, going up on my tiptoes to better see his reddening face. His face, I could look at, but his eyes were to be strictly avoided during arguments. One glance at those endless pools, was more than enough to make me forget what I was yelling about, agree with him on anything. "You honestly think I don't want to talk to you? You just had to go and be your annoying self, don't you? Your annoying, adorable, irresistible, mind boggling bloody self! You just had to go and be all lovable, didn't you? If you didn't make me fall in bloody love with you it wouldn't me so damn difficult! I don't even- oh." I stopped, just realizing what I had admitted.

I stared up at his shocked expression, his surprised deep blue eyes and I panicked. Turning on my heel, I tried to run out of the room, tears already stinging my eyes. But a large hand closed around my wrist, restraining me, keeping me from running. I spun to face him, to deny everything I had just said. Before I could utter so much as a single syllable, his soft lips were on mine, silencing every word on my tongue and thought on my mind.

It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening, but as soon as I did, I hastily returned his gentle kiss. His arms dropped to my waist, pulling me closer as mine snaked around his neck, toying with his ginger hair. We parted eventually, needing air. Ron stared at me intensely, and if he hadn't been holding me, I could swear my knees would have buckled.

A cheer tore us from our own perfect world, and we looked around to see 100 eyes locked on us, 100 hands clapping for us. I blushed, looking back at Ron's red face as he shrugged and bent to kiss me again.

"About time," I heard Harry mutter as he passed us.

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