            The chess pieces roared, and Ron let out a yelp of victory. She rolled her eyes. No surprise Ron won. Harry hadn’t beat him at wizarding chess since last Christmas. And that was only because Harry had gotten Ron disastrously drunk. "Nah, work was bloody well busy all week," Ron muttered, stretching as he hopped up from the table. He clambered over onto the couch, grabbing her legs so they rested on his lap. He tickled her calves, and she kicked him—Ron was always forgetting how she hated being tickled.