seduction is like a game of chess, and i'm the queen
Hermes sat across from her, leaning back in his chair with an arm slung over the back frame, brow furrowed in thought as he studied the chess board between them. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, showing off his forearms. He had unbuttoned one more shirt button than usual.
Ron felt rather like one of those extremely repressed birds in the historical romances her mum sometimes failed to realize she had left lying around in the living room, the types who went on about men’s fingers or earlobes or other such details, but really it was Hermes’ fault.
Unlike other boys in Hogwarts—including literally every one of her brothers—Hermes did not go around taking his shirt off when given the slightest excuse. His shirt stayed firmly on, even in the summer at the Burrow. Like right now.
It was unfair, really. Other girls with other crushes were getting eyefuls of uncovered torsos at their leisure, and her she was restrained to Hermes’ few singlets if she was lucky.
He moved one of his bishops into an extremely poor position. Ron restrained a snort and studied the way his hair curled around the nape of his neck. It was getting long. It brushed the collar of his shirt.
The shirt he was still wearing.
She had hoped that having the game in her room, the stuffiest one in the house on account of being the furthest up, would encourage him to take his damn shirt off. She’d take a singlet underneath, even. But no, he’d just undone a button.
Criminal. He was doing this on purpose, surely. This was a plot to kill her.
One of these days she was going to have enough of waiting and convince him to play strip chess with her. It didn’t matter to her who was doing the stripping exactly, as long as it led somewhere. She could not survive off of forearms and slight slices of chest alone.
It just couldn’t happen in the Burrow where any of her siblings could barge in.