Chapter Three- ZugZwang.

There's a tapestry on the wall just outside Professor Fix's classroom with a horrid flower pattern on it, but if you pull it away from the wall there's a little alcove with just the proper dimensions for snogging. That's where Lisa dragged me one minute before the start-of-period bell.

It's a mixed blessing to have a girlfriend that's as tall as you, something I was still in the process of discovering at that stage of the game. Lisa had her arms wrapped around my neck and was kissing me enthusiastically before I even realized where we were headed. After what I deemed a healthy interval (being a sixteen-year-old boy and all) I squirmed out of her range and tugged at her hands. "Turpin, you're going to make me late..."

She snorted. "You've got Muggle Studies, Weasley, that's right next door." She swooped in for another kill; I ducked.

"All right, you're going to make yourself late. I know for a fact you have Alchemy next—" She cut me off with another kiss, and it took a lot of self-control to wiggle out of that one. "Damn it, I thought you Ravenclaws liked school..."

"Doesn't mean we can't like boys better," she said, but she flipped back the tapestry and ducked out. Some fourth-years giggled as we emerged, but I shot them a death glare and they scattered. "Besides, it's been nearly a week since we had some time alone together. I'm feeling deprived."

"So go jump Harry in the halls, it's his fault I got that detention." Which was not, technically, a lie; like I told Professor McGonagall, I was provoked.

Lisa giggled and tossed her hair over her shoulders; it was brown and curly, not like Hermione's is curly, but like a piece of ribbon is curly. "He's not nearly so much fun, though. And anyway, he's short."

"Not his fault."

The bell rang, and I swore. She grabbed me and got in one last peck on the lips before tearing off for the dungeons, and I bolted the last few yards to Fix's room. I managed to get into my seat before the bell stopped.

Professor Fix is not, let me say, a bad teacher. He can't help it if the sixth- and seventh-year Muggle Studies course is the sort of class that people only take if they need another course for their N.E.W.T.s and don't want to actually think. (Or, in my case, if your Muggle-born girlfriend guilts you into taking it and you can't swap out after you break up with her.) I'm sure that he's really an excellent teacher, but the fact remains, though, that this was senior Muggle Studies, and nobody ever paid the slightest bit of attention if they could help it.

Which was remarkably easy to do, when he wasn't even in the room.

A few moments after I sat down, some sort of silvery thing ricocheted through the door, swerved around the room, and hit the chalkboard; the chalk rose up and began to write it Professor Fix's infamous curvy script: Had to take student to hospital wing for duct tape accident. Will be back shortly. Continue in Romeo and Juliet and take notes. Everyone groaned; Fix's obsession with Muggle literature bordered on maddening, although I secretly didn't mind some of the stuff we read...not that I'd admit it where Hermione might overhear.

Still, we now had a free period, since no one in their right mind was actually going to complete the assignment except for Mandy Brocklehurst, who sits in the front row and only ever talks to argue with Fix. I turned around and scanned the room: of the students who hadn't skipped, three girls had immediately claimed a table in the corner and were reading Teen Witch, one was Mandy, two were exes (Justin and Blaise Zabini, although the latter had been a one-night stand in the Quidditch cupboard) and one...was staring at me.

"See something you like, Malfoy?" I called to him. I noticed Justin giving me a dirty look before going into the corner to bother the magazine girls.

He just smiled. "Just wondering if you're quite as...skilled as I've heard." Ever since the drag show on Halloween, we'd been treating each other with a sort of guarded indifference; this wasn't the first time I'd caught him staring, usually with an intense and almost hungry expression that disappeared the moment I looked at him. I couldn't really quantify what I felt for him now; simple enmity does not involve erotic dreams or aggressive flirtation. But, then again, it didn't really matter, seeing as I had Lisa now. Right?

I leaned back in my chair and tried to match his expression. "Just wondering? Why not find out?" He raised his eyebrows, and without speaking, produced a chessboard out of his bag and began to set it up. "You carry that around for your health, do you?"

"I like to be prepared," he said idly, and started setting up the white pieces in front of himself. He gave me a look of open challenge, just a flick of his eyes from behind his hair, and, well, I had no choice but to take him up on it

"So, Malfoy, are as bad at chess as you are at Quidditch?" I stood and started crossing the classroom towards him.

He looked up innocently. "I could ask you the same question."

"At least Gryffindor doesn't have to cheat to win." I pulled a chair up to the other side of his desk, in front of the black pieces. "Fancy a match?"

He smiled again, lazy and slightly...triumphant? "I'm all yours."

I dropped into the chair, straddling the back. "Your move, then."

He played aggressive chess, not surprisingly, although he didn't stick to any opening that I was familiar with. I played it safe with a king's pawn move. The pieces were really quite nice-looking—as if you'd expect anything less, with a Malfoy—and didn't say a word about our strategies. When it looked like he was about to fianchetto his black bishop, I asked, "Are you sure about that?"

He smiled, showing off his teeth. I wondered if vampirism ran in his family. "Quite."

I prepared for a fianchetto of my own, and suddenly found myself staring at his white bishop, poised to capture my own. I glanced at his face again; he was smirking at me, the bastard. He thought he was clever. I drew back my bishop and scowled at him.

Malfoy had girl hands, I realized, as I watched him contemplate his moves. Dainty, slender hands, with elongated palms and bony fingers. His nails were the longest I'd ever seen on a boy. He traced one pointed fingertip along the edge of the board, then tapped the same one against his lower lip. His eyes remained glued on the board, apparently lost in thought, but as I watched the tip of his tongue darted out and circled the pad of that errant finger. What must that taste like? I thought, without warning. Dust, maybe, or ink...or whatever it is that Filch used to clean the desks. I had never actually tasted a Hogwarts desk before, although that was not for lack of effort on the part of the twins. Or maybe he tastes like lemons...

"Your move."

"Hmm?" That flirtatious fingertip traced deliberately across his lips before he tapped it in the edge of the boad. Damn it, he'd caught me staring at him.

He smiled, again showing teeth. "It's your move."

I looked down at the board, and quickly advanced a bishop to complete the finachetto. Normally I have a good chess face, I don't know what it was about Malfoy that had me giving away so much. It's not like I actually like the git or anything. He attacked my queen with his other bishop and I blocked him, hoping to inspire a quick exchange. Instead, he pressured me, forcing me to make an odd, closed knight-move to relieve the pin. And then he retreated, apparently giving up a tempo and returning back to the starting square.

I tapped my foot idly against the leg of the desk, analyzing possible moves in my head. I'm good at that sort of thing when Malfoy's not distracting me. My position was too closed...I need to make room for my pieces to maneuver. I'd also managed to leave an open diagonal for his white bishop, something I should have been smart enough to avoid. I hesitated over my queenside knight, wondering if I could put a little pressure on him—

—and then all thoughts having the slightest thing to do with chess left my mind as I felt Malfoy's foot sliding up my leg. When had he removed his shoes? I locked eyes with him, but he looked bored and innocent, a few strands of pale hair hanging in his eyes. Underneath the desk, I could feel his foot, tracing the outline of my calf muscles through my trousers and heading up. I very quickly moved the first piece that came to hand, which happened to be a bishop. He immediately pinned it against my king, at the same moment he began to knead the inside of my thigh with his toes. I made the first move that came into my head, castling kingside, and tried to bat him away before I ended up with a hard-on in the middle of class.

He moved his bishop and smiled. "Check."

I pushed his foot down and tried to concentrate, refusing to be defeated before a single capture had been made. He merely began his ascent anew. I tried to kick him, but because of the way I was sitting I couldn't do more than glance a blow off his shin. I couldn't capture his bishop...if I tried to block it with a piece, we would just end up trading material...and (as I pushed his goddamn foot off me again) I refused to back my king into a corner from which there was no escape. There is a reason, I thought darkly as he started up for the third time, that sex and chess don't mix.

In a burst of inspiration, I blocked him with a pawn, then stomped on his foot for good measure. His face turned very pink and his eyes bugged out, and he exhaled forcefully through his nose. "Your move," I said cheefully, leaning back to savor the tears of pain forming in his eyes. He glowered at me and looked back at the board, quickly moving his queen to defend his bishop. He placed it down on the board so forcefully that it turned around and made a rude gesture at him, which he completely ignored in favor of glaring at me.

I moved a knight after a little hesitation; I needed to create a more open position. He merely pinned my other knight against my rook. Little bastard. I moved a bishop, and then, just because I felt like being annoying, I said, "You know, it's really no wonder that Parkinson left you."

He moved a pawn and stared at me. "Why's that, Weasley?"

"The cow's put on so much weight in the past year, she'd squash you during sex," I said. "Your move."

"At least I kept her for more than three days," he said haughtily as he moved a knight. "What about you? What's's it been, three different lovers in four weeks? I've heard of sowing your wild oats, you know, but that's getting silly."

"Four, actually, " I said, determined to out-cool him. "But at least I know they're not with me for my wallet."

"No, they're probably the ones paying you, aren't they?" He smiled insolently.

I glared at him. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"Of course, I can't imagine you charge much, seeing as you'll apparently shag anything that's breathing and able." He moved his rook over to pin a pawn. "Boys, girls...I've heard rumors about the giant squid..."

"Go to hell." Actually, the closest I'd gotten to...well, intercourse had been with Zabini, which, for myriad reasons, didn't count. But that didn't mean I was still a virgin or anything. Not that I'd explain all that to Malfoy, mind you...

He planted his queen on the queen's six square and batted his eyelashes. "You're the one who brought it up, Weasley. I'm just trying to keep up my end of the conversation.

I focused on the chessboard, trying to shut Malfoy out entirely. I could see what he was planning with his queen, but I couldn't think of any way to actually stop him that didn't involve a sacrifice. Figuring the tactic had worked well once before, I reached out to move a pawn and block the appropriate diagonal. He quickly reached out at the same moment, and one of those dainty, girly hands brushed slowly over my big squarish one. I glared at him; he merely smiled and said, "J'adoube," before adjusting a pawn in its square.

I made my move and glared at him. "You're a bastard, you know that? A complete and utter prat. D'you just get off on annoying people or what?"

He smiled and reached out, leaning very far over the chess board until he was nearly in my face; I could only lean back so far without toppling over. "Why?" he aske. "Do you get off on being annoyed?" With great drama, he captured one of my key defending pawns, and plucked the stunned figure off the board by himself.

I fought down the little tickles that were crawling up my spine and stared at the board. There were no moves left to make...not unless I intended to sacrifice a whole hell of a lot of pieces for relatively small gains. There was no way I was going to sacrifice anything to Malfoy, though. So what choice did I have...?

A sudden scramble in the corner of the Magazine Girls was the only warning we had before Professor Fix appeared. He frowned at the relative disorder in the room as he wiped his nose with a hankerchief. "I thought I gave you an assignment," he said, sounding slightly annoyed.

"We finished it, Professor," Zabini piped up. The Magazine Girls nodded enthusiastically.

Fix looked doubtful, but nodded. "All right, then...back to your seats. Let's read this out loud, starts at the beginning of Act Three. Mr. Finch-Fletchly, if you'd read Romeo...Mr. Weasley, Mercutio...Miss Brocklehurst, I trust you don't mind reading Benvolio? Right...ah, Mr. Malfoy, let's have you read Tybalt..."

I went back to my desk and made a hopeful face at Mandy, because I'd forgotten my text. She sighed but moved to a desk next to me and spread her book out between us. The next half-hour was one of the most boring in my life, because, while I'm pretty sure there was a sword fight going on in the bit we were reading, nobody except Fix and Mandy understood enough to follow it. But I got to insult Malfoy...okay, my character insulted Malfoy's character...but it sort of made up for having to watch his eyes flash at me from across the room with that knowing little smirk. All in all, it was a big relief when the bell rang for lunch, and I ran out of the room as fast I could.

As I sat down at lunch, though, my eyes strayed to the Ravenclaw table. Lisa was chattering away rapidly with Padma Patil and that Chinese girl whose name I always forget. As I watched, Blaise Zabini came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder; they started whispering, and I could have sworn they looked straight at me. Then Harry started bugging me about Quidditch practice, and when next I looked up, Blaise was gone and Lisa was scowling unpleasantly. What on earth did Zabini tell her to piss her off? Surely not that, it was a week before we even started going out...okay, five days...still...

When Lisa got up, I excused myself and tried to catch up with her in the entrance hall. "Lisa! Wait up!" She slowed down a pace, but her posture was oddly rigid, and she had a funny little frown on her face I'd never seen before. I tried to put my arm around her, but she dodged me. "Er...say, I've got a free evening tonight, you want to, er, talk a walk or something?" She was acting mental and it was putting me off.

She tilted her head and looked away from me. "I don't think that'd be a very good idea, Ron."

Okay, did she or did she not gripe in the corridor about missing me? "What? Why?"

"I just...maybe we shouldn't be seeing each other anymore." She finally looked at me, and I realized what that funny little frown mean; she was angry with me, not just miffed or annoyed. What the hell?

"What the hell?" I looked around and dropped my voice. "Is this about what Zabini told you? Because I can explain that, honest, there were extenuating circumstances—"

"Weasley." She put up her hand. "Just...just stop, all right? I don't want to hear it. Please, just leave me alone now."

"But what did I do?" I asked, bewildered.

She shook her head. "You really are thick, you know that?" she said acidly, and then took off up the stairs. I tried to follow her, but she ran ahead, which left me standing in the middle of the entrance hall yelling her name like a prat. Great.

"Ron?" I turned around to find Harry and Hermione coming up behind me. "What happened?"

"Lisa just dumped me," I said, raking my fingers through my hair.

Hermione looked aghast. "Oh, Ron," she said, "what have you done now?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"That what you said when Justin—"

"But this time I mean it!" I shook my head. "Blaise Zabini told her something during lunch, and just now she said she doesn't want to see me anymore and she won't tell me why!"

Harry shook his head in a sympathetic sort of way. Hermione just frowned. "What's Zabini got to do with anything?"

"Er..." Oh, shit, Weasley, you never told them about the Quidditch cupboard... "We have Muggle Studies together."

"What's that got to do with Lisa, though?" Harry asked.

That's when it clicked. Zabini must've seen me playing chess with Malfoy in Muggle Studies. And Malfoy coming on to me. And then told Lisa about it... "I'm going to kill them both," I said quietly, the whole thing coming together in my head in a grotesquely elegant sort of way.

"Who? Lisa and Zabini?"

I shook my head. "Never mind. Just...never mind, okay? Let's just get to class."

I don't know how these things happen to me sometimes.