A/N: As always, the disclaimer can be found on my bio page. Here it is folks! A new chapter for a new year. There's one more chapter left, so stay tuned for the match point of this little game.

Ron sighed as he leaned his head against the cool stones of the dungeon wall. This was getting to be ridiculous. Pansy's spell had finally worn off, but Ron didn't seem to need any extra encouragement to think of Pansy in connection with pleasure. He really needed to talk to her though. He felt certain that another player had entered their game. Just the other day, he was sure that he heard sniggering coming from behind a statue after he and Pansy had enjoyed one of their flirting sessions. However, no one was there when he went to look. He'd even swept his hand around the area, keeping in mind Harry's invisibility cloak, but nothing had come of it.

Hermione had become something of an issue as well. All of a sudden, she seemed to hang on his every word and take every opportunity to touch him. The other day he had pulled away from her instinctively, and she had just exploded.

"I suppose you would rather consort with harlots. How could you Ronald Weasley? I-I thought you loved me!" Hermione practically wailed the last line and everyone in the common room was staring at them.

Ron had been more than angry at this point. "Shut up! What I do is not your business anymore Hermione. Go back to writing letters to Viktor. You've chosen him, so stick with him. I've moved on. It's time you do the same."

She had stormed off heatedly and in tears. Ginny had seemed torn. In this case she actually somewhat agreed with her brother. However, he wasn't in tears and he had Harry if he needed to talk. Shooting an apologetic look Ron's way, she hurried after the other girl.

Harry had been sitting next to them during this argument. Ron turned to him almost wearily.

"So I suppose you're going to yell at me too."

"Why would I care who you're dating or messing around with so long as you're happy, mate. Besides, I'm dating Blaise and you haven't said a thing about it, so I think I owe you one."

Ron regarded Harry with something akin to shock. He was certain that he looked like a fish that had fallen quite suddenly out of its bowl. How had he missed this development? There had to have been some foreshadowing, but he couldn't even remember suspecting that Harry might swing that way.

Harry, meanwhile, had been gazing nonchalantly at Ron. However, he began to laugh and took pity on his friend. "I'm just kidding, Ron."

"Oh. Umm, okay…"

"Blaise isn't my type at all. I prefer blondes…" At Ron's startled look, Harry shook his head and laughed again. "Really Ron, lighten up. I think that all of this mess with Pansy and Hermione has gotten to you. You've chosen; now make that choice worth the trouble it will cause you later with Hermione. I'm knackered, mate. I'm for sleep." Still laughing, Harry walked up the stairs to the dorms. Ron had made a mental note to spend more time with Harry—he must have way too much spare time on his hands if he was making jokes as odd as the one he just pulled. At least, Ron hoped he had been joking…

In any case, Ron was on his way to talk to Malfoy. It was actually a rather good thing for Ginny that Ron had been dealing with Pansy, or he would have had more time and energy to berate his sister for her appalling taste in men. However, Ron had to admit that Draco had been civil, and the few times he hadn't Ginny had quickly prodded him into apologizing. Half the time Ron suspected Malfoy didn't even notice that he had offended someone. Of course, he had Ginny to notice such things. Ron could almost feel sorry for Malfoy. Ginny was just as much a firebrand as Molly Weasley. Ron sobered as he imagined the conversation that he and Ginny would soon have to have with their mother about their respective relationships—if Ron could even count what he had with Pansy as a relationship. That was why he needed to see Draco. Hence the reason he was standing outside of the Slytherin common room waiting for him to appear.

"You must really like her." The cool, cultured tones slid into Ron's thoughts so smoothly he didn't even jump. He simply turned and nodded at Malfoy cautiously. Then he just looked at the Slytherin, unsure of where to start.

Draco sighed and looked at the red head, wondering what in the world Pansy saw in him. However, he knew if he was ever going to get his best friend back, he would have to get her to accept that the game was over. The only way he could do that was if she herself fell for someone. Weasley was the closest Draco had ever seen her come and as much as he detested the idea on principle, he missed her enough to help Weasley as much as he could. Besides, he owed it to Ginny.

"You want to know a little bit about the game and whether or not Pansy is attainable." Draco didn't make it a question. Ron simply nodded.

Draco looked at Ron. "This is going to take awhile, so let's go sit down somewhere. Under the circumstances, I doubt my common room would be ideal, and with Granger on the warpath, Gryffindor is out. Shall we go to the library? I'm supposed to meet Ginny there later anyway to study."

"Umm, sure." Ron had a flash of gratitude that they were going to somewhere populated. It wasn't that Draco was untrustworthy, exactly—it was just that Ron was in such a habit of not trusting the git. This was going to be a very…interesting conversation.

Ron left the library with a new appreciation for the complexities of the Slytherin mind. Strangely though, instead of feeling discouraged by the rules of the strange and perverse game that Malfoy and Pansy had come up with, Ron felt like he did when he had played that life or death game of Wizard's Chess back in second year. A little nervous, somewhat terrified, awed by the opponent, and completely exhilarated. The game was in some ways truly inspired—twisted—but inspired. He had to find Pansy. It was time to up the stakes.
Pansy once again checked her appearance in the mirror. She told herself that it was all part of the game. Simply a strategy. She was in this to win, right?

Of course, lately she had been asking herself exactly what it was that she was trying to win. What exactly would be the outcome of this little charade? There were times when she forgot it was a game—when she looked into those blue eyes and he smiled just at her, when she teased him about his freckles. She almost…

Pansy cut of that thought viciously. Stop it. Just stop it. Relationships are cages—golden cages perhaps—but cages nonetheless. Besides, it would never work. He was a bloody noble Potter-loving Gryffindor. She was the Slytherin—she stopped. The Slytherin Slut. That was what they called her behind her back in the other houses. They wouldn't dare in her won house—she had too many powerful friends…like Draco. Damn that arrogant prick—she missed him and she had to keep telling herself that this was all his fault.

Composing herself carefully, she wiped all traces of emotion from her face. This wasn't the time to be questioning her motives or her actions. She was a Slytherin. She had her pride and she wore it like Snape wore his robes. It was time to meet her opponent.

He was leaning against the wall outside potions, which was her next class. There was something…different in the way that he was standing—just a bit straighter maybe—that put her on her guard immediately. He looked up, sensing her as he seemed able to do recently, and she was suddenly engulfed in hot blue intensity that drilled straight through her carefully prepared, already brittle defenses. She made herself catch her breath and painstakingly rebuilt them—or at least the semblance of them. He moved forward with the air of a predator hunting particularly delectable prey. There was a hungry look about him as he stalked towards her, reminding her of the way he approached the Gryffindor table at meal times—which made her think of his insatiable appetite—which made her think of…oh Morganna!

That bastard was changing his strategy mid-game.

"Hello, Pansy."

Pansy barely repressed the shiver that traced up her spine. Then she lazily stretched her arms over her head, keeping eye contact with him, breathing in slowly as she stretched her spine. His eyes followed her movements, and she detected a slight change in his breathing.

She smiled and leaned forward just a bit. "Check."

His eyes narrowed, and he moved around her, sliding so that he almost was touching her, but never really doing it. Pansy felt his breath ghost across her neck like the brief heat of sunlight. She turned, a hand reaching up to loosen the collar of her shirt, but paused.

Ron was resting an elbow against the wall just over her head, already loosening his tie, the freckles on his collarbone peeking around the white button-up he wore. Her eyes flicked suddenly up to his.

He grinned. "Check."

A crowd had somewhat gathered at that point on both sides of the opponents—mostly students who were in potions and those who had walked with them. They watched, fascinated, as the oblivious pair continued their strange dance.

Pansy stepped out from underneath the shadow of Ron's arm, twirling gracefully away and then looking over her shoulder, while she undid the top two buttons of her blouse. She placed herself slightly out of reach, but offered him the rather tantalizing expanse of creamy flesh at her throat.

In the crowd, Draco and Ginny watched in slightly spellbound disbelief. Harry had come up next to Ginny, chuckling quietly, with Blaise slightly behind him.

Blaise watched the scene with growing, rather shocked admiration for Ron. He noticed with some amazement that each time they moved, they each ended up on a different square of the granite flagstone floor. Each move was intricate, like a well-choreographed dance, but somehow spontaneous and passionate. Then he heard Pansy say "check." Merlin, it was deliberate! Every little move on their part was thought out. This had to be the steamiest game of chess he'd ever seen.

Then Ron managed to get behind her again. He gently caught hold of one of her dark curls and leaned over until his lips brushed her ear.

"Check," he breathed, his voice husky.

She turned to look at him, their faces so close that they were breathing each other's air. Then the bell rang and she slipped away, her curl trailing through his fingers like silk.

Those students who needed to get to potions stood a moment, completely gobsmacked by what they had witnessed, before the threat of Snape's tardy punishment forced them to move.

Ginny leaned up to whisper in Draco's ear. "Are you certain you have to go to potions today?"

He looked down at her, taking in her slightly flushed cheeks, her light fluttering breath, and the expression in her eyes which surely matched his own. "No, Snape loves me. I don't think it's really necessary for me to go today." With that, he grabbed her hand and they hurried down the corridor.

Harry and Blaise exchanged amused glances.

"Isn't that the direction of the Slytherin dormitories, Blaise?"

"It is indeed."

Elsewhere in the castle, Hagrid was holding a barely civil conversation with Filch.

"Thumping thestrals, ye old caretaker. I'm givin' him my permission ter visit my hut. Ron's goin ter look out fer Fang while I'm gone. I don't want you stampin' around and scarin' him. He's got Dumbledore's permission to stay the night, seein' as how Fang's scared of the dark."

Flich sneered, his beady eyes showing intense dislike for the half-giant. But he dared not protest too much if Dumbledore had agreed to this. He nodded curtly and left, mumbling about how students were given too many freedoms these days and how they should be locked in their dormitories at night. Ms. Norris waited until Filch had left to allow Hagrid to pet her, before following her master from the room.

Hagrid snorted mightily and stumped off to find Ron and give him some final instructions. Harry had detention this week, and Hermione was not very agreeable recently, so Ron had volunteered. Fang like him a lot anyway.

In the hallway behind him, a strange noise could be heard from within a cedar cabinet. Winky was humming to herself happily as she dusted the artifacts inside.

Later that day, Pansy received an invitation. It was on beautiful creamy paper. There was a chess piece on the front, a black queen, highlighted with silver and green accents. Inside was written: 'Queen to Hagrid's hut, 8:30 tonight. Your move.' There was no signature, only a tiny white knight embossed under the message.

Pansy smiled before she could help herself. The look in her eyes made the portrait on the wall blush.