Resistance

May God Save Us All

…

Betrayals are found within the board, and hell rising from each and every death like a BAMF.

…

It's always the quiet ones who win.

"So what? We just take over the world now?" Dean questioned, eyeing the map.

"You're Muggle born, Dean. How the hell do you not understand this game?" Harry wondered, leaning back against the red pillows. He vaguely worried if Ron had slipped another knife off the table again.

The boy shrugged. "Eh. I don't know where either of you two got it from anyways. I just don't recognize the bloody game."

"Hermione's. We just nicked it off her." Ron grimaced. "Wasn't pretty."

Seamus allowed a long whistle. "Must be pretty desperate for a game."

"With exams done, we got nothing this week to do. It's so…" Ron trailed off, throwing his hands up.

"Boring." Harry finished, chucking cards at each of the boys. "Take two men of your colours, and set 'em up on the countries you got. Then you use add your extra men to wherever the hell you want."

Dean placed two yellow men on Peru. "You know, this game has the unique prospects of transforming it into something better. I'm thinking 'Strip Risk'."

Neville paled, eyes darting to the bathroom's doors. "Please no."

"I would say yes, for the sole purpose of destroying Neville's sanity. But seeing as how this is a bloody six hour game, I have to say no." Harry dismissed the idea, waving his hand.

Ron nodded strongly. "I agree. You suck when it comes to strip games."

"You know, I could say a lot to that statement, Ron." Dean grinned, watching as Neville hesitantly placed three pink men over on Alberta, next to the black one's Seamus had already placed.

"I will curse you, if you dare." Ron threatened, taking out his wand.

Dean sighed. "Put your wand away, Ron."

"Oh shut up," Ron threw a pillow at Dean whom merely ducked.

"Hey! Are we ready to play yet?" Seamus interrupted quickly. "Because Harry is going to kill you both if you don't shut the hell up, and I'm going to watch."

"I'm your best mate!" Ron cried out, glaring at Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You tried to stab me last time we played. You got no ground to stand on."

"Stab you?" Neville's eyes widened to the size of tea cups.

"I killed him out of Europe and he ran out of countries. He tried to get revenge by stabbing me in the back. We had to stun him in the end." Harry explained, returning Ron's glare. "Bloody traitor."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You were the one who killed me, you arsehole!"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I'll kill you again if you don't set up your bloody men."

"That's a threat! You threatened to kill me!" Ron paled under the weight of the angry stare the Boy-Who-Lived was bestowing him.

"You're damn right it's a bloody threat." Harry swore, chucking a dice at Ron's forehead. "Now get your bloody men out of Russia."

…

"So. Harry likes Russia, I'm assuming?" Neville grimaced at the killed red men of Ron's. Harry managed to wipe out five countries of Russia and surrounding areas.

"Bloody maniac. His first target is always getting Russia, and be damned if anyone gets it before he does."

"Maniac?" Neville whimpered, looking fearfully at the coloured dice in his hands.

"Homicidal maniac, Mate." Ron corrected, "He's damn well corrupt."

"That 'homicidal maniac' is sitting right here, Ron." Harry glared, looking down at his cards.

"I gotta say, insulting the poor nut job right in front of him." Dean chuckled, rolling his white dice. "What the hell is with all of this pink?"

"I'm sorry?" Neville spoke, removing his three men off of Brazil.

"Stop apologizing, for Merlin's sake," Seamus groaned. "You're a bloody Gryffindor. Gotta have a bit of backbone there, mate."

Neville paused before speaking again. "… Sorry…"

"Enough of this talk. Talking is for the birds. We are men, fighting for the world." Harry grimaced, throwing a fist in the air.

Seamus pumped a fist in the air as well. "Bloody well damn straight."

"Pass a Butterbeer, will you?" Dean asked Ron, eying the board. "How has Neville managed three counties?"

"We've all been fighting for the big countries. Some bloody green eyed git won't give up Asia." Ron adjusted his red men residing upon Greenland.

"S'not my fault you can't roll the dice properly," Harry muttered, "Now roll, Neville. And die easily."

"Sorry?"

"Oh damn it," Seamus swore, chucking the Butterbeer cap across the room, landing neatly in the bucket.

…

"So. He has both South America and Asia." Dean whistled. "In the grand total of two hours."

"The essence of Seamus clear from the board." Ron added. "And Seamus drank to his 'death' before collapsing." The ginger prodded the sleeping Irish boy, surrounded by empty Butterbeer bottles.

Dean continued the statement with ease. "He has also traumatized Neville in a matter of minutes."

"He can also hear every word you are saying." Harry interrupted, glaring. His eye twitched.

Ron swore. "We're all dead. We have no chance. He'll slaughter us in our sleep, and feed out mangled bodies to the Snakes!"

Harry blinked. "Calm down. I just want to kill your men and win this game."

"He admitted it!" Ron bellowed, jumping to his feet. "He wants to kill me!"

"I also want to kill Dean and Neville to, but you don't see them flipping out. Do you?" Harry frowned.

"Neville doesn't count. You already broke him." Dean grimaced, looking at the boy. His eyes had widened, and hands began trembling.

"You monster!" Ron cried, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Eying the colored dice in Dean's hand, Harry mused, "If I did kill Ron, do you think I could have the potential of getting away with it?"

Shrugging, Dean replied, "Eh. Depends mate. First you gotta lay out the setting. The backup plan. You got to get the lure, the cover up. The sexy nurse waiting for you behind the scene."

"I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. Shouldn't that be enough?" Harry grimaced, removing one Green man from Alberta.

"Nah. To obvious. You need to hire someone to kill him for you. And thus, no one can say you went dark and evil."

"WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT KILLING ME?" Ron screeched, outraged. Betrayal was etched across his face.

"Like hiring you?" Harry raised an eyebrow, tossing two offending yellow men off of a neighboring country. He had lost track of what it was he was fighting for, other than the mere fact that it wasn't his, and he wanted it.

"Depends how well you pay, mate."

…

"I'm glad my life means so much to you, Harry." Ron pouted from where he sat cross legged. His small European Nation was crumbling away, red pieces strewn across the room.

"You know, after you attempted stabbing me in the back the first time around, I'm not answering that."

Ron swore as he rolled a one. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Did Snape, when he discovered you stole Hogwarts property?" Harry questioned. "And gave you a month of detention for next year?"

"Pretty impressive. I don't think the Twins ever managed doing that." Dean approved, sticking his foot out to kick the sleeping Irish boy.

"Shut up. I'm hoping he forgets about that."

"He didn't forget about the incident with Malfoy. I wouldn't hold your breath on that one." Harry replied, rolling a six. "You got three men left, Ron. Just give up."

"Never!"

Harry sighed. Once he killed the prat, he'd never hear the end of it. "Then die in bloody glory, you idiot."

"I will. Now leave me in peace!" Ron cried, rolling a dice across the floor.

"That's a two. This is a four." Harry smirked.

"Oh God. Not the smirk." Dean muttered, flinging the defeated red man away. "You're just about dead. Any last words?"

"He's coming after you next, Dean. He's a fiend!"

"Oh give it up," Harry grimaced, wiping out the last of the red. "Just you and me, Dean. And Neville."

"Sorry!" Neville cried out.

…

"I'll be damned, but Ron was right. You are a bloody homicidal maniac." Dean glared, shoving his cards to Harry.

He shrugged, passing yellow men over. "That's ten good men, Dean. I'll kill 'em in the end."

"You are so pleasant. What a cheery bundle of joy you are." Ron spoke up from where he play, tossing Dean's football from hand to hand.

"One of my best features," Harry rolled his green eyes, watching as Dean placed them on Australia. "Hurry up. You have three territories, roughly twenty men standing soon to be dead."

"Go… away!"

"Eh. Too much amusement watching you suffer at the moment."

"Son of a bitc-"

….

"You killed me." Dean said blankly, looking at Harry horrified.

"Yep."

"You killed me," He repeated, grasping hold of his dead men.

"Yeppers. I enjoyed it to."

"I cannot believe that you killed me. That's not fair!" Dean exclaimed, searching for something under the blankets. "Where's that knife?"

"Murder in the dorm rooms. This ought to be fun to explain to Dumbledore." Harry grimaced.

"It'll be damn well worth it to!" Dean swore, "You murder both Ron and I in cold blood!"

"What about Seamus?"

"That was Ron, wasn't it?" Harry questioned.

"Nah. Remember? He was still trying to figure a way to keep Ne-"

"Neville." The two looked at the boy.

"Time to cash in?" Neville asked hopefully, holding a stack of cards.

…

"Not Russia!" Harry cried out, practically flinging his rolls.

"It's all mine, Harry." Neville smirked. "My six beats your five."

"No! Damn you!" Harry howled.

"Siberia now?" Neville offered, already shaking the dice.

"Oh, go to hell."

…

"That was fun." Neville smiled, studying the pink laden bored.

"He won." Ron grimaced.

"How the hell did he beat me?" Harry whined, looking at the twenty men holding Russia hostage.

"Easily." Neville smirked. If only they knew half the cards that he handed in had been originally nicked from the main pile when they hadn't been looking.

"How?" And that the number of pink men on the board had been far more than the original number had been supposed to be.

"Magic."

…

"He cheated."

"He had to have cheated."

"Nah. Neville wouldn't have it in him to cheat."

"Neville won?"

…

We all know that the quiet ones win, right? Well, if not… Neville did. Why? Because I forgot about him until the end. Anyways. I was looking back over the first chapter and was all like… so many mentions of the guys… no displays from the guys. So… no stripping, sadly. But plenty of misery induced amusement.

Enjoy.