Defining Secrets // Ron Weasley

Chapter Eighteen: Battle Of The Smarts and A Little Instruction

Elise's POV:

I walked in, overwhelmed by the smell of sweat, butterbeer, and excitement. Although of all the smells, the drink was definitely most pungent and it left me with a delicious smelling aroma for a full day after. But right now, I was choking on it. Nobody liked butterbeer that much - not even me. I fanned my face to lessen the tingle of sweetness in my nostrils.

The room was big and loud. Okay, maybe not the room itself, but the people inside were singing so loud I could have sworn the walls shook as if it were the one breathing. Although it was more of a chant, really. But they sang it with such passion one had no choice but to sing along. Glasses were being filled to the brim, others wiped off their foam moustaches and everybody came together to continue chanting,

"Weasley is our king! Weasley is our king! Weasley is our king!"

Now it was obvious what was happening. But just to check, and because the stench was really getting to me, I pushed through the crowd to get to the centre of the room. But I ended up knocking into the twins before I could make it all the way.

"What is going on here?" I yelled over the voices.

"A chess match." George answered, speaking even louder, "Ron's up."

I laughed, "so who's the one losing?"

"Ugh! This is ridiculous," Hermione huffed, slamming down her last chess piece as she admitted defeat. The room burst into boisterous cheers as Ron raised his fists and pumped.

Fred shook his head then smiled at her pout. "He's unbeatable."

Glasses and cups were slammed together and Hermione found herself back by us. I watched as Ron leant back in a macho grin that shot smoke out of Hermione's ears. The spark in his gaze left me smiling. Unbeatable indeed.

Ron was good at many things. Quidditch, Potions, reading people and fun conversation. But chess was something he was best at. The best at. Sometimes I grinned at the thought of anybody else being able to beat him. Not to toot my own horn, but I'd managed it once or twice.

So taking the fact that nobody had beaten Ron so far as means for competition, I looked back at Fred and grinned. "Wanna bet?"

Everybody roared as I raised my hand, electing myself to be Ron's next competitor. Hands found my arms and brought forwards to the centre of the common room. Ron grinned as I materialised through the crowd. Half genuine, half cocky.

Ron filled his time by cracking his knuckles and soaking in the attention while I busied myself with rearranging the chess pieces. After he got sick of all eyes on him he turned to the board. But instead, his eyes trailed from my hands that were separating his pieces from mine, all the way up to my face. His Adam's apple bobbed when I bit my lip without realising.

Ron adjusted himself then faced me with another grin. "Prepared to lose?"

"Top ten things to said to yourself in the mirror this morning?"

Ron clicked his tongue. "Sure it wasn't yourself?"

"Wow, what a comeback."

"Oh piss off."

I snorted, allowing myself one final glance to soak in his defeat before I annihilated him. Ron gazed over the board, then his hand pushed on the timer. The minute the tick sounded the room fell harmoniously silent. It was game time. He was black, I was white, allowing me to make the first move. I didn't need to look at the clock to see how much time I had. The exact number was already memorised.

The chess board became a fully formed battlefield in my head. Everything was life sized, just like the Wizard's chess we played so many years ago. In my head, Ron and I hoovered above the life sized carvings, watching it play out like a battle. My hand hovered above the second pawn to my right, but then decided against it. Maybe the other side would work? I decided against that, too.