A/N: Wow! It's finished. Sorry it took so long folks, but it's been a wonderful journey. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Reviews are an author's meat and drink.

As always, see disclaimer on bio page.

Pansy looked up at the storm clouds building in the sky and cursed loudly. If she didn't hurry, she would be soaked. The clouds looked ready to drop torrential rain at any moment. Trust Ron to call her out to a hut in the middle of a monsoon. She attempted to ignore the fact that she was the idiot actually going out to a tiny hut in said monsoon willingly. She felt a drop of rain on her face just as she reached the door of the groundskeepers hut. Pansy knocked loudly. There was no way she wanted Ron to open the door and see her looking like a drowned rat.

Ron peeked out a crack in the door. When he saw who it was, he opened the door wide and pulled Pansy inside, his eyes taking in the state of the sky. He closed the door quickly. As soon as he did, sheets of rain began to batter down on the roof of the hut. Pansy was a little surprised that the roof didn't leak, but it seemed that the hut was well made. It was also cozier and cleaner than she had expected, with a fire going and a chessboard sitting on the table. Ron had obviously been playing himself since the pieces were arrayed across the board in the semblance of battle. She glanced up at Ron expecting to see him looking sly or smug, but his expression only held confusion.

"Pansy, I'm glad to see you, but what are you doing here?"

Pansy frowned. "You sent me an invitation this afternoon."

Ron looked at her in shock, shaking his head slowly, then his eyes narrowed. "I knew that there was another person interfering. All those times our spells backfired on each other…"

For some reason, this made Pansy angry. She had thought the invitation a brilliant move, and truth to tell, she had expected tonight to be the night that she would win this little game. She was starting to fear that if she didn't end it, she wouldn't be able to walk away from him. His proximity was making her breathing quicken, and she knew she had to get away. This wasn't a part of the game. Neither of them had made this move.

Damn. She hated people interfering with her business…especially when she didn't know who it could be. Pansy began to pace in a way that reminded Ron uneasily of a caged panther. She began to mutter. "Bloody hell, who could it be? Whoever it is must be clever…a Slytherin? No, no one in our house would dare—" She stopped, then resumed her pacing. "No, he knows I would hex him like I did the last time, and he can't afford to lose another one…" Pansy chewed on her lip and glanced at Ron, noting the speculative gleam in his eye. He must know something. She waited expectantly. Ron simply looked at her and smiled, seemingly no longer concerned about the interloper in their game. Pansy felt a hot flush rise in her face, signaling that her anger was steadily rising.

"Well in that case, "she stated haughtily, "I'll just head back to the castle. I have other matters I could be attending to." She sauntered saucily to the door, but Ron grabbed her arm.

Pansy turned back to tell him just what she thought of men trying to keep her from going where she pleased, but his earnest expression stopped her.

"Pansy, wouldn't you rather stay here instead? It's raining nifflers and kneazles out there." He smiled softly. "We could play chess."

Just his words caused goose bumps on her skin as she remembered the way he had breathed in her ear during their last game of "chess". Her anger faded, only to be replaced by an emotion that caused a different kind of heat to suffuse through her body. Her eyes slid to the chess board and back to meet his steady gaze.

"Well, I suppose I have time enough to beat you once or twice."

Ron simply smiled and pulled out a chair for her.

Ron glanced out from beneath the hair falling over his forehead at Pansy. They had been playing for a little over an hour and she still hadn't beaten him. He could sense her frustration. Pansy was a more than decent player—good enough to have earned a reputation in Slytherin House. She wasn't used to losing, he could tell. But there was another emotion he couldn't read under the frustration. Almost like…fear. He wasn't certain why she would be afraid or losing a game of chess, but there it was—in the way she twirled a curl when he took another of her pieces, in the way her breath fluttered in and out of her throat. Pansy was scared.

Barely glancing at the chess board, Ron moved his queen. "Checkmate in four moves."

Pansy just glared at him. This certainly wasn't going the way she had planned. Ron could tell just by looking at her. He had managed to put Pansy off balance. Apparently, Slytherin dorm had not heard much about Ron's ability at Wizard's Chess. He actually managed to look smugly at her without looking stupid. But then a strange gleam came into her eyes. She licked her lips as if she were imagining the taste of something delicious. Ron's pulse suddenly shot up more than could be warranted from simply winning a game of chess. She leaned forward, and her voice was husky when she spoke.

"Why don't we…try something different?"

Ron was wary. Pansy had her Slytherin game face on. That meant she was up to something sneaky. Still, Ron knew that he had been holding his own with her. Strategizing was something he could handle. This move and countermove relationship had given Ron a little bit more confidence in himself. This had nothing to do with Harry or Hermione. His games with Pansy belonged to them only. He grinned at her, letting a little of his confidence show. "What do you suggest?"

"Just something to make the next game a little more interesting…"

Pansy scowled at the chess board. It wasn't her favorite ploy, but it had always worked in the past with other games and other boys. They would play strip chess and Ron would be less and less able to focus as clothing was removed. After all, Pansy had never before met a boy who could truly focus around a scantily clad female—except for Draco of course, and that Weasley chit had done him in without removing a single article of clothing.

The Weasley in front of her seemed similarly unaffected by the rules to which Pansy was accustomed. If anything, his playing had improved one she began removing her clothes. In fifteen minutes, he had managed to divest her of everything but her bra and her skirt. He had only lost his robe and shirt. Pansy's eyes flickered to his toned body even as she cursed herself for a fool. She had seen it before, when this whole charade had begun—when she had been assiduously counting his freckles. She couldn't understand why she couldn't tear her eyes away now. Maybe it was knowing somewhat the kind of strategy of which he was capable. He was no longer just a body to give her pleasure—the twists of his mind fascinated her. Pansy had no idea that Gryffindors were able to come up with such devious spells and plans.

She glanced up and realized that he was smirking. Looking at the board, she grimaced in dismay as another of her pieces was smashed to bits. Not wanting to give him satisfaction, she slid her skirt off under the table and flipped it onto the pile of clothes beside her. He didn't even take his eyes from hers. It wasn't that he wasn't interested—of that she was certain. His gaze was intense in a way that sent thrills of expectation spinning through her body, running shadowy caresses up her nerve endings. At the same time, it scared her witless. More so than she had ever been, and that was saying a great deal. The confidence in his face was part of what frightened her. He wasn't reacting to her because he knew which way the game was going.

Pansy chose her next move carefully. Somehow, it seemed very important to make the right move. Thinking of Ron's first gift to her, the knight he'd enchanted so carefully, she knew what to do. She watched as her black queen smashed Ron's white knight to small pieces. She hoped he would catch the symbolism. Searching his face for signs she had struck a nerve, Pansy only saw signs of amusement. He understood the mockery of her move, but he also understood the underlying reasoning behind it.

He met her eyes as he made his next move. His other knight, seemingly coming out of nowhere, took her queen, and too late Pansy saw the trap into which she'd fallen. Her mouth dry, Pansy watched the words ghost over Ron's lips. It wasn't good to be jealous of air.

"Check mate."

Pansy's last bit of armor—lacy, green armor—fluttered to the ground like a bird taken by the hunt.

"Scourgify."

Ron's soft spell brought Pansy to her senses. She watched as he muttered the longer incantation that restored the chess pieces and cleared away the game. He had his back to her as he placed the game on a shelf high along the wall of the hut. His muscles rippled under his freckled skin, and Pansy suddenly remembered Draco telling her how much training a keeper had to do to stay in shape for Quidditch. He had been grousing about Slytherin's keeper, who was a rather lazy fellow.

She forced herself to focus. Why was this so damn difficult? Why was this situation so different from all the other times she had found herself in a less than fully clothed state with a boy? Subconsciously, she knew the answer, but Pansy was stubbornly ignoring that part of her mind. The truth of it all was that when it came down to it, she didn't want Draco to have been right. If she left right now and insisted on ending the game, she knew that Weasley wouldn't persist. No matter how clever his mind, he was still a Gryffindor and a gentleman.

Then he turned and raised his head to look at her. Blue seared through her, blistering and intense, and she knew that she wouldn't leave. No one had ever looked at her like this. She had seen people look at her with lust, fear, admiration, hatred…but how could a gaze seem to devour you and replenish you at the same time? His eyes never leaving hers, he slipped out of his remaining clothes, once again putting them on an even playing field, giving up willingly his advantage over her. Her breathing came in quick bursts and her knees felt like they wouldn't be able to lift her from the seat where she still sat, naked and without any of her usual defenses. Dizziness washed over her, and she wondered if she had stopped breathing without noticing. Then his lips were on hers, and breathing no longer seemed to be all that important.

He pulled her to her feet, and into his arms, skin brushing skin. Pansy's eyes fluttered closed and she knew she should curse herself for her weakness and promising herself she would…later.

Still kissing her slowly and heatedly, each sigh and breath seeming to bring them both closer, Ron gently laid her back on Hagrid's table. She almost told him to stop—she could only imagine what else had been on that table, but now Ron's earlier muttered spell had made sense. He had scourgified the table. The git had planned this. Pansy begin to struggle in indignation, but at that moment, Ron slid down to her stomach, cheek skimming warmly across her skin on the way.

Ron plunged his tongue into her belly button and laughed when Pansy shuddered. He was holding her hips down against the table and it was driving her mad. Pansy had just time enough to be grateful that the table was smoothly sanded before Ron leaned back over her body and kissed her surprisingly kindly. She looked up into the blue of his eyes, which were sparkling with glints of feigned innocence. Her violet eyes narrowed and filled with something very close to a predatory gleam.

She trailed her fingers, nail tips applying just the right amount of pressure, down Ron's abdomen, tracing the lines of muscle that inevitably narrowed…and then she stopped, just shy of the destination she was certain her adversary desired. Pansy smiled, leaned forward and viciously bit Ron's shoulder, breaking the skin. She expected him to jerk back at the unexpected pain given where pleasure was expected. He didn't. The bastard actually smiled and kissed her on the nose. She looked back up into his eyes and noticed that they were filled with more desire than before. Well. That certainly made things more interesting.

She was so busy contemplating the heated look in his eyes, that she was startled when she felt warmth press against her. Pure, fiery heat. He was still looking directly into her eyes, and Pansy suddenly realized that he hadn't gone straight for her chest or anything else. Even though they were both stark naked, he seemed fascinated with studying her and…cherishing this moment. She looked away from the promises she saw in his eyes, not knowing if she was ready to accept them and make promises of her own.

Ron brushed a hand against her cheek and trailed his fingertips down her throat, across her collarbone, and down her side, lightly brushing her breast, causing her to shudder involuntarily. She looked up and was shocked to see him blushing. He had seemed so confident, but the flush of his pale skin told her otherwise. Somehow, that restored Pansy's own confidence because she was on solid ground here. She had dealt with nervous boys before. Grinning wolfishly, she captured his freckled, callused hand in her own manicured, smooth one and placed it brazenly on the breast that he had brushed. She watched as his pupils dilated and smugly thought to herself that even in this position she could still make a decent countermove. He hadn't won this completely. His victory would not come so easily.

Studying her silently, Ron decided that Pansy was still trying to play the game. He smiled lovingly at her, and was rewarded when she scowled. Ron realized that he would have been disappointed in her had she given up so easily. Leaning down slowly, keeping eye contact with her until the very last moment, Ron gently brushed a kiss across her hardening nipple. He felt Pansy shiver underneath him. His muscles were straining at the position, but he didn't want to give into them yet. This was the most delicate strategy game he had played yet, and one that he couldn't suffer the loss of –he had only newly converted to his belief in the possibility of this relationship.

Lowering himself on top of her, Ron Weasley began his worship.

In the corner, Fang woofed quietly and covered his eyes with his ears.

Pansy couldn't say how long Ron had been reducing her to incoherent need, but if he didn't take her soon, she felt that she might just explode. It wasn't that she truly wanted to end this slow, rapturous torture…she just didn't think she could handle much more.

She gasped again as he gently nipped the inside of her thigh and brushed against the cleft between her legs with his cheek. Then his fingers were inside her, finally, and she thought she might cry because it felt like her blood was singing with magic as he brushed his fingers over sensitive flesh, but she knew what she really wanted and what he had to want. Merlin he must be a saint to have lasted so long.

Pansy looked at Ron's face. His eyes were closed, focusing on the administrations of his fingers. She realized suddenly what he was doing. Her mother had once told her about finding a man who made sure his partner received as much or greater pleasure than himself and held back until he was certain he had accomplished this goal. Pansy's mother had told her never to let him go if she found him. Her mother said this while nursing a firewhiskey and looking around fearfully to make certain Pansy's father wasn't around. That was the only time Pansy really remembered her mother outwardly showing even a spark of anything other than bland, bovine contentment. Pansy had often wondered about that as she watched her mother drink herself to death.

At that moment, Ron's eyes opened as if he sensed Pansy's thoughts. He slid up her body, every movement a delicate torment of sensation. As he looked at her, his breathing showing that he needed this as much as Pansy hoped he did, his eyes asked a question. In answer, Pansy pulled him down and rolled him over. He looked startled for a moment, looking up at her, but he seemed to realize her intention and if the look on his face was anything to go by, he wasn't averse to the idea at all.

Pansy liked to be in control. There was so much in her life that had been dictated for her. That was part of the reason that she had like the game. She controlled every aspect of her liaisons. With only her and her friends' parents' marriages as models of how relationships went, she had always thought that being in a relationship would mean that she no longer would have any control in any aspect. But if Ron was willing to let her do this, then maybe things would be all right.

Reaching down, she gave some attention to Ron, realizing that this was the first time that she had really touched him. He was so close that she couldn't do too much, because she wanted him to be sheathed inside her when he gave up his control. The entire time, he had his eyes locked on her face, letting his expression tell her everything she needed to know.

Pansy returned the gaze as she straddled him and aligned herself carefully. She lowered herself slowly, letting gravity help and felt muscles stretching that hadn't been stretched like this the entire time she and Ron had been playing their game. That fidelity should have been her first clue she thought vaguely, distracted by the look on Ron's face and the feeling of him inside her as they slid together, creating friction and increasing the heat they were generating. His hands were large and strong on her thighs and hips, helping her as she guided him.

It didn't take either of them long. Since Pansy was guiding him, she peaked before he did, but seeing her come undone was enough to take him with her. He sat up, with her still in his lap and wrapped his arms around her. They were both shaking, whether from physical exhaustion or strong emotion, Pansy wasn't sure—perhaps both. She knew that was the case for her. Pansy had never actually slept with any of her conquests; she always left when the act was finished (or more likely kicked them out of her bed with a sneer and smirk). However, when Ron picked her up and put her on the big bed in the corner and lay down beside her, once again putting his arms around her, Pansy knew that this time, she was going to stay and that she would wake up in his arms in the morning.

Fred and George Weasley sat in the Hogshead lounging at one of the back tables. They were deep in conversation with a rather ragged looking hag with a monstrous cold when the bar tender alerted them that their next appointment had come. The twins concluded their business with the hag, who seemed satisfied about something and indicated that they were ready to see the other visitor. This was not dinner with a customer, but a celebration with a partner in mischief. A small wrinkled female house elf with a flower on her head made her way to their table, weaving slightly. Her eyes, however, were bright and clear.

The twins looked at her questioningly, and she grinned. It had been a success, the entire operation, with no one the wiser.

Fred, George, and Winky toasted each other.

"To uniting Hogwarts," Winky exclaimed.

Fred added, "To getting our brother,"

"and sister," George grinned.

"out of our hair and into the wonderful world of the truly and thoroughly shagged."

All three conspirators grinned and sipped their drinks.

Not too far away, in a tiny hut, one truly and thoroughly shagged Ronald Weasley looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms. He really would have to send his brothers a thank you note…but that could wait until morning.