A Skirmish of Wits
“Behold this skirmish of wits!”
Ignoring their raucous friends, Ron smiles, looking far too confident for someone Draco is determined to write off as an oaf.
“Still single, Malfoy?”
Draco looks from the chessboard to the redhead sitting opposite him.
“You know me, Weasley. Black-hearted, with love for no one.”
“Truly? How fortunate. Imagine if all eligible wizards were troubled with you as a suitor.” Ron’s laugh is warm. Carefree. Teasing. He leans back in his chair.
“Your move, Malfoy.”
Draco makes a move, still expecting to easily win the game. “I do myself the favor of trusting no one, so I’ll stay a bachelor.”
Ron counters.
Behind them, Blaise cackles and quips, “Draco, I’d bet half the gold in my vault that I’ll see you pale with love soon.”
Draco just shakes his head and moves his knight.
Ron regards him for a long moment and moves his own knight in response, signaling the beginning of his endgame. He has the audacity to wink at Draco as he takes a bite of an apple and waits.
He knows he’s lost, and yet Draco’s heart tightens with a sudden wanting, a needing, an urge to write a fucking poem or something, unsure how the common, obnoxious, dirt-poor, broad-shouldered, strong-looking, blue-eyed Weasley with that slightly too long messy hair can inspire such nonsense in him.
He’s determined to die a bachelor. Isn’t he?
Of course, when he said that, he hadn’t thought he’d live long enough to get married.
And he’s been feeling things he didn’t think he could feel.
Ron barrels on. “So our friends swear you love me? I mean, I’d give in to save your life — I hear you’re basically dying with longing.”
Draco blushes and their friends roar with laughter, while Ginny yells, “Oh come off it you two. We have enough messages from both of you to prove that you’re goners for each other.”
“Ignore them. They’re like a bloody Greek chorus or whatever. But, they’re not wrong.”
Draco opens his mouth to protest, to deny. “I —”
Leaning over the chessboard, Ron shoots him an insolent, lop-sided smile, and brings his lips close to Draco’s. “Peace. Or I will shut you up.”
And kisses him. Slowly, languidly.
“Checkmate, Malfoy.”