Rondo

Spring was cruelest, trees bursting mercilessly into emerald blooms, flowers daring to show their flaming colors after months underground. He had always preferred winter, the sharp gray skies reflecting the color of his eyes, the pale earth a relentless reminder of his heritage. As nature unfolded new life Malfoy Manor grew darker, ivy unkempt twisting over the walls, rains dampening the air in the stone fortress. Ten years had passed since that final day of their seventh year at Hogwarts, and all it took was one movement in the shadows or a flicker of a candle to bring him back to that dungeon, to the rage and loss. Harry Potter, dead, checkmated in the dangerous multigenerational game of human chess. Lucius Malfoy, the grand master, hiding his war tactics until the lethal end.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

"That's Pawn to King-Four," I thought, astonished. "He's beaten me to the opening move." Of course, I couldn't say it, not with Crabbe and Goyle and the Weasel there. Unable to say anything else as I felt my face grow hot, I turned and left the compartment.

Six years, and I still haven't been able to tell him that he's been playing our game unwittingly--and winning. Father grows more insistent every year that I somehow get myself closer to Potter, how the hell I was supposed to do that with the whole school watching I didn't know. I spent a day in the dungeon for that retort, and I was bruised for the better part of a week afterward. He'd had his way with James for years and no one knew, and wouldn't hear my pleas that James was different, he hadn't lost his parents and defeated the Dark Lord before he could walk. Potter was everyone's favorite, guarded as though he were some kind of treasure. Disgusting. Having that Mudblood Granger and Weasley around doesn't help matters, those two are nosy beyond the telling of it. Anything I try, they'll know about instantly. No, somehow I have to get Potter alone and make my move, trap him so he has no choice but to move himself, keeping his other pieces right where they are.

It had to be in Potions, hidden among the quiet rush of mixing and boiling. Potter burst into class late, and I had to turn my head away as I felt my stomach knot in the presence of his flushed pink cheeks and tousled hair. Perfect. Snape would punish him by partnering him with me.

"Tonight, Potter," in my softest voice, not letting him doubt for a second I was serious in my intentions.

"What?" He looked at me as though I had suddenly begun to speak Martian. My focus was on my ginger roots and slicing knife.

"The Astronomy Tower. One in the morning."

"What's in the Astronomy Tower?" God, did he have to speak so loudly?

"Leave your wand in your dorm."

I could feel those green eyes boring a hole in my skull, but I had to stay in control, leave him wondering. He would be there. Potter never passed on the promise of a challenge.

Check.