Checkmate

Nothing is so good it lasts eternally
Perfect situations must go wrong
But this has never yet prevented me
Wanting far too much for far too long

Looking back I could have played it differently
Won a few more moments who can tell
But it took time to understand the man
Now at least I know I know him well

Wasn't it good?
Wasn't he fine?
Isn't it madness
He can't be mine?

No one in your life is with you constantly
No one is completely on your side
And though I move my world to be with him
Still the gap between us is too wide

Didn't I know
How it would go?
If I knew from the start
Why am I falling apart?

Lyrics from "I Know Him So Well" from Chess by Benny Anderson, Tim Rice and Björn Ulvaeus

* * *

Skimming over the tops of the snow-covered trees, flying fast and parallel with the road to Hogsmeade, Harry was crouched low over his Firebolt, grinning in anticipation of seeing Draco again. The rush of cold air in his face, crisp with the frosty scent of snow, was exhilarating and the slanting afternoon sun sparked tiny brilliant prisms of light from the white surfaces blurring beneath him as he kept watch for the Portkey hub. From the air he thought he should be able to spot the hub easily as a large clearing in the forest and not have to bother looking for that old signpost Draco had uncovered.

I must be nearly there. . . .

Almost as soon as he thought it, he overshot a round open space in the trees below and drew a sharp, excited breath. He grinned wider, for he'd caught a glimpse of a slim blond figure in a black cloak stepping from the trees on the far side, walking toward the center of the circle.

Draco!

Harry quickly banked his Firebolt in a tight arc, slowing and angling down to land at one edge of the clearing. In his haste, he jumped from his broom without even touching down.

With a swift glance over his shoulder as he hurriedly leaned the two brooms against a tree, he saw Draco striding toward him across the unbroken snow, and when he turned around a moment later, Draco was right there. Without a word being spoken, Harry was enveloped in a fierce hug. He melted into the embrace with a sigh. God, it felt so good to hold Draco again - the ache of separation he'd carried inside him for the last two long, distressing days evaporated instantly as Draco's body pressed eagerly against his own.

"I was so worried," whispered Harry, closing his eyes and turning his face to nuzzle Draco's ear. "I'm so glad you're back. Everything will be okay now."

"Shhh," whispered Draco and moved his head to kiss Harry.

With a thrill of elation, Harry felt the magic of the Ti'kira binding flare between them as Draco's mouth closed over his. A vivid explosion of warmth flooded through him, a warmth that radiated out from his heart, reassuring and uplifting him, coalescing into that deep, comforting sense of belonging he always felt with Draco. He was aware, too, as he held Draco in his arms, of another binding that joined them; the powerful resonance and echo stirring at the very center of his own magic confirmed that their magical auras were joined. But he didn't wonder about that, caught up as he was in kissing Draco and simply being awed anew by the intensity of these connections he felt with the other boy. It still amazed him how perfectly they seemed to fit together, and how Draco's very presence, his touch, filled Harry with strength and calm and a sense of wholeness and completion.

Another thrill, purely physical, surged through Harry as Draco deepened the kiss. God, I missed you, thought Harry, tightening his arms around Draco. His original intention to invite Draco to go flying was quickly shifting into a fervent desire to get Draco back to Hogwarts as soon as possible and into bed. Cloak and sweater and gloves, armor willingly donned against the cold, now became clumsy, unwanted obstructions between Harry's hands and his need to touch Draco's bare skin.

Harry slowly, gently, ended the kiss. He wanted to look at Draco's face, to see the smile he loved and the warmth kindling in the light gray eyes.

Draco released Harry from the kiss reluctantly and leaned his forehead against Harry's, holding on tightly. He seemed desperately unwilling to let go.

"Come on," said Harry, smiling, pulling back a little more. "I brought your broom -" he started, meaning to ask Draco to fly with him, though now only as far as the window to Draco's room. Then Harry saw Draco's face clearly for the first time and the rest of his teasing words died unspoken.

Draco wasn't smiling. His mouth was tightly drawn and his eyes remained closed as if he couldn't meet Harry's eyes, almost as if he was close to tears. He seemed to be struggling to say something difficult.

"Draco? What. . . ?"

After a few seconds of tense silence, Draco took a deep breath and looked up, and Harry's heart faltered a beat. The gray eyes were awash with sadness and regret.

"I'm so sorry, love," said Draco, his voice hushed, nearly breaking. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Sorry?" repeated Harry, completely perplexed by Draco's words and his demeanor, so utterly different than what he'd expected.

Draco let go of him without answering, stepping back slightly to take something from a pocket in his cloak. "Keep this safe," he said solemnly, handing Harry a much-folded piece of parchment.

"What is it?" asked Harry, both confused and worried by Draco's strange behavior.

"Just keep it for now," Draco repeated. "You can read it later."

Harry hesitated for a second, bewildered, before tucking the paper down into the pocket of his jeans.

Draco smiled at him then, a tight, sad smile very like the one he'd given Harry as he'd left his room on his way home for Christmas, but before Harry could ask anything more, Draco's hands slid around Harry's waist under his cloak. He pulled Harry back into his arms and kissed him again as if he never wanted to stop.

Surrendering to this kiss, Harry almost forgot his questions and his confusion, until the rustle of a cloak followed by a short, derisive laugh made him break abruptly away. Draco slipped away from him and took a step back.

Over Draco's shoulder, Harry saw with a shock that Lucius Malfoy was standing in the center of the clearing, his wand aimed directly at them. Oh God, he thought in alarm, Snape was right - I never should have let Draco go home! He clutched at Draco, meaning to pull him out of the line of fire, but Draco shrugged him off, avoiding his grasp. Then Harry saw, with an even greater shock, that Draco held Harry's wand, had stolen it from Harry's back pocket as they'd embraced. An icy chill that had nothing to do with the cold winter breeze that ruffled his hair shivered up between Harry's shoulder blades. Betrayal and anger and disbelief flooded his face, and he looked up frantically at Draco for an explanation. But Draco was turning away toward his father. Harry caught only a glimpse of Draco's face - a face that was undeniably cool and unsurprised as Draco acknowledged his father's presence with a silent nod. Taken aback, and seized with a sense of unreality, of the impossibility of what he was seeing, Harry felt sick with horror.

"Well, well, Potter," said Lucius. His voice was silky and pitiless, and he smiled with obvious satisfaction at Harry's stricken expression. "It seems you've gotten involved in a rather . . . treacherous . . . little affair." He gave another short, contemptuous laugh, then his voice grew stern. "Step aside, Draco," he said. "We need to do this fast and get out of here."

"No," said Draco, still standing resolutely between his father and Harry. "There's something I have to finish with him first. It will only take a moment." He stood unmoving, uncompromising, meeting his father's angry glare willfully, blocking Harry until Lucius, tight-lipped, nodded.

"King to E1," said Draco, turning back to face Harry.

Harry stared at Draco, incredulous, his mind racing to make sense of what was happening. It was obvious that Draco had known his father was coming. He had not reacted with any surprise at all. And he had kept Harry here. They had had more than enough time to jump on their brooms and fly safely away, yet Draco had deliberately delayed their leaving with his kisses - and had taken Harry's wand. Harry just couldn't believe what that implied. He had to believe that Draco was being forced - somehow Lucius had discovered their plan to meet and had coerced Draco into this while he was home. That he could understand, but now . . .

Now Draco was standing here in the midst of this threatening situation, facing him seriously and . . . making a chess move? What the bloody hell was he thinking? And this move! This was not Draco almost making a bad move by mistake - this was intentional. Draco was knowingly moving into the one situation that would lose him the game, that same fatal position they had already discussed the night of the Yule Ball.

Then Draco's words from that night came back to Harry in a heart-stopping rush - "It would have been practically . . . suicide," - and suddenly Harry forgot all about Lucius as realization struck. Draco had made sure he'd seen this move that night. It had not been a mistake then either. Was it another hint - like the ones Draco had given him when he'd pretended the break-up? But, oh God, what the bloody hell did it mean!?

Practically suicide. . . !

Panic rose up inside Harry in a churning tide of emotion and he knew, as the ground seemed to shift and slide away beneath his feet, that Draco had intended him to know this. "You can't move there," Harry whispered, his voice failing in the fear that gripped him now. "You said you had a strategy for winning. What about that?" he asked desperately. "You said it was working perfectly . . ."

Draco reached out and touched Harry's face with his fingertips, tenderness unmistakable in his touch. "And it did," he said softly as his hand dropped and he stepped back. "This was my strategy, Harry. It was you that I wanted to win." He turned his head and glanced at his father, gauging the man's rising impatience, then turned back to Harry. "It's your move," he said.

"I don't want to win," said Harry, struggling to think of some way to stall, to stop what was happening. "Not like this. . . ."

"It's over," said Draco with stark finality, making a small helpless gesture with his hand to indicate his father's wand aimed at them.

The words and gesture cut Harry to the quick. Over? All that they had shared? All his hopes for the future? Over? Meaningless?

With that sickening feeling of horror crouching, dark and heavy, in the pit of his stomach, Harry raised his hand against Draco. Even without his wand, he was not going to be taken like an unresisting, defenseless Pawn, as part of a chess game. He'd only done wandless magic accidentally, but he knew now that it was possible, and he would certainly try to fight that way before letting Lucius Malfoy capture him.

But with a slight shake of his head like a subtle warning, Draco spoke again, his voice gentled, almost pleading. "I just want to hear you say it, Harry. Please." He paused, his eyes holding Harry's intensely. "It's your move."

Searching the gray eyes that held an ocean of anguish and apology, Harry sought an explanation, any clue to tell him what Draco was doing. The eye contact seemed to last an eternity and Harry felt he might drown in the sadness of those eyes. And once again, though Draco's actions and words appeared incriminating and wrong, Harry still saw the boy he loved, the boy he trusted in those eyes. Draco was begging Harry to trust him. Harry could sense it, as sure and steady as the beating of his own heart. He could still feel, even now, in this fragile, precarious moment, the intimate bonding of the Ti'kira magic between them and the mysterious, powerful joining of their magical auras. He remembered the passion they had shared, remembered how he'd believed, as he lay in Draco's arms that last night together, that he could trust Draco with his life.

And Harry knew that was what Draco was asking him to do. It was what he had to do. For what was trust, he understood suddenly, if one cast it aside at the first test . . . however great a challenge that might be? Harry chose to believe. With a lump rising in his throat and the feeling that his knees might give out beneath him at any moment, he dropped his hand.

"Knight to C2," said Harry very quietly, making the move that would take Draco's Pawn and reveal his own Queen to win the game. He swallowed against the painful constriction in his throat. His eyes never left Draco's. "Checkmate," he said finally, barely a whisper.

Draco nodded. "Good game, Harry," he said evenly, his voice betraying none of the emotion in his eyes. He turned his back on Harry and walked to where his father stood waiting, and stopped, facing Lucius. "I did what you forced me to do, Father," he declared so that his words carried clearly across the snow-covered circle, "and got Potter here. If you want him, take him . . . but I won't help you do it."

"Just get out of the way," said Lucius, seething with annoyance, "and get that Portkey ready."

As Draco walked away to stand several paces behind his father, Harry found himself face to face with Lucius. Lucius's wand was pointed straight at his chest.

"Imperio," said Lucius, not wasting another second.

Harry didn't even have time to blink before he felt the beginning sensations of the forbidden curse, that very familiar floating, happy, empty and carefree feeling, brush across his mind. He knew this spell intimately, had learned to throw it off completely back in his fourth year DADA class, and steeled himself to fight it now . . . but it seemed to simply wash over him and fade away. He heard Lucius's mental command: Come here . . . come with me . . . as a faint ineffectual whisper in his mind, and then the spell dissipated completely.

Harry gazed blankly at Lucius for a second, momentarily baffled by the unexpected failure of the curse, then he crossed his arms over his chest and met Lucius's angry glare with challenge in his green eyes. "It didn't work," he said bluntly.

Lucius stared at him, scowling. "Imperio!" he repeated forcefully, and his wand trembled in his hand from the effort.

Come with me NOW!

Again Harry heard the words, but as if from a great distance, and felt only the slightest touch of the spell in his mind before it melted away.

"Sorry, no," said Harry, his confidence growing. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Why isn't it working?" Lucius growled at Draco without turning around, without taking his wand off Harry. "It's impossible. He should have no resistance at all. I spelled that ring myself, before you gave it to him."

My ring? Spelled?! Harry looked to Draco, alarm and doubt flooding through him at this startling new revelation. This wasn't something that had happened when Draco went home! Draco had given him the ring before he left! And he remembered Draco's urgent words quite clearly - "Promise me you won't ever take this ring off again. Not for any reason . . . no matter what happens." Had Draco been planning this with his father all along?!

But Lucius was turning to Draco now, too, the first hint of suspicion showing on his face. "What did you do?" he hissed.

Harry saw the triumph shining in Draco's eyes, and with a sudden thrill, realized that the look wasn't directed at him, but rather at Lucius.

"I had Dumbledore counter-spell it," said Draco with a hint of pride in his voice, "and I added an advanced Hex-Off spell. I never had any intention of letting you take him."

Lucius stared at Draco, speechless for a half-second, his face turning livid with rage. "You little fool," he said in a low, measured, infuriated voice.

Draco's chin came up, defiance danced in his eyes. "Rather a fool for love than the heartless puppet of a madman that you've become," he stated boldly, bitter scorn laced distinctly in the tone of his words.

"Love!" Lucius nearly spat the word. He eyed Draco with contempt, one corner of his mouth curling upwards in disgust. "How pathetic."

Harry thought he should run while Lucius was distracted, but he couldn't leave Draco. Lucius was turning his wand on Draco now, and Harry was frozen in place, not able to tear his eyes from the drama playing out in front of him.

"I had such high hopes for you, Draco," said Lucius icily. "We should have stood side by side, raised to power together with the Dark Lord." He paused, studying Draco with a calculating gaze. "It's not too late, son," he said, and his voice now seemed warmer, conciliatory, yet Harry still heard the callous manipulation in his tone. "No one needs to know about this little . . . lapse in judgment, but us. Put this childish idea aside and do what is required of you."

"I have my own ideas about what is required of me," said Draco blatantly.

Lucius glared at him, discarding all pretense of patience. "You took the vows!" he nearly shouted, and his voice shook with anger. "The Dark Lord will never let you go now." He raised his wand higher, pointing it straight at Draco's chest. "Don't you understand that as his servant, I can't let you go! Don't destroy your future, boy!"

"I never had a future," retorted Draco, his voice rough with emotion. "Not of my own. You intended to control me in every way, torturing me with the Cruciatus Curse to ensure my obedience, forcing me to be a Death Eater, ordering me now under threat of my life to betray the only person I have ever loved. You've already destroyed my future!"

"So you decided to defy me?" snarled Lucius, a note of incredulous disbelief in his voice. "You! You're just a child! Did you actually think you could stop me from taking Potter?"

"No," said Draco coldly, quietly, and triumph sparked again in his eyes. "I didn't plan to stop you at all."

At that, six men who had been stationed in a ring around the edges of the Portkey hub threw off their Invisibility Cloaks and stepped forward, their wands drawn and aimed at Lucius Malfoy. Anti-Disapparation Cuffs appeared in the same instant on Lucius's wrists.

Harry almost gasped out loud with surprise and relief. He recognized Arthur Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody standing together opposite him and guessed that the other men were Aurors. One of them came forward to take a stand beside Harry, as if to guard him.

Draco silently held up the only other means of escape, the little black key that Lucius had made into the Portkey back to Malfoy Manor, which Draco had artfully removed from his father's possession.

"Lucius Malfoy," said Moody in a loud, severe and formal tone. "You are under arrest. You've confessed to being a Death Eater and cast an Unforgivable Curse before all these witnesses. We've seen more than enough here to send you to Azkaban for the rest of your life."

Lucius completely ignored him. "You betrayed me?" he hissed at Draco. "This was your plan!?"

"You demanded a plan," said Draco, an edge of insolence in his otherwise calm voice, "that would prove to you where my loyalties lie. I did exactly what you asked."

"You traitorous whelp! Your loyalty should have been to me!"

"That's enough, Lucius," said Dumbledore's stern voice from behind Harry as the old wizard's firm hands settled on Harry's shoulders. "Lower your wand and surrender."

At the sound of Dumbledore's voice, Draco turned his head and looked for Harry, meeting Harry's eyes with his own.

Harry barely heard Dumbledore's words. All of his attention was focused on Draco. Standing across the clearing, in a patch of late afternoon sunlight that slanted down, pink and honey-gold, through the snow-covered trees, Draco seemed to shine. Harry's heart filled with sudden elation and he smiled. He felt the deep magical ties that bound them together, strong and solid and secure, and when Draco smiled back, a shared emotion of exultation surged between them.

Lucius didn't even acknowledge Dumbledore with a glance, but let his arm fall to his side while he continued to glare furiously at his son.

Dumbledore motioned to one of the Aurors to take away Lucius's wand.

For Harry, from that point on, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Just as the Auror took the first step forward, Lucius's arm snapped back up, his wand aimed directly at Draco's heart. Harry saw Draco's chin come up, as if Draco had expected this and accepted it, surrendering to its inevitability without even trying to defend himself.

Draco's eyes never left Harry's. The mist-gray eyes were filled with resolve and pride and love . . . and, as his father's wand came up, with profound apology.

And all at once, Harry knew. Everything crashed together, all the puzzling pieces fit suddenly into a horrible, insane sense and Harry screamed.

"Draco! NO!"

"Avada Kedavra!" bellowed Lucius.

"Stupefy!" yelled the Aurors from all sides.

A stream of bright green light shot from Lucius's wand a split second before the crisscrossing barrage of fiery red light from the Aurors' Stunning Spells hit him.

Green light sprayed violently from the ring on Harry's hand and Harry sank to his knees, held upright only by Dumbledore's hands on his shoulders. His ears were filled with a dreadful rushing noise. His heart and breath stopped. The world went black . . .

There was a second, then, of profound silence, marred only by the terrible hushed sound of two bodies falling into the snow.

Immersed in that blackness, in a moment in which time seemed to stop along with his heart, Harry felt all the bindings that connected him to Draco come undone. Bonds that were so strong and vital just a few seconds ago frayed and ripped, and Harry felt a delicate part of himself, yet not himself, split and tear away. Something very intimate and precious, as precious to him as his own life, was slipping away from him, like a long exhaled breath, like a last lingering wishful sigh, to be lost beyond his reach forever.

"No," Harry whispered, ragged breath coming back to him, heartbeat skipping, then pounding. No! With all his strength, in the pulse of that first returning heartbeat, he pulled every bit of healing magic he could summon from the innermost depths of himself to hold on to that last precious unraveling thread.

Harry was only vaguely aware of the sudden flurry that surrounded him, of the Aurors rushing in to secure Lucius who lay Stunned in the center of the circle, of hands trying to help him up, of a voice speaking his name. Staggering to his feet, he wrenched away from those hands that now tried to hold him back and ran, stumbling with despair, across the clearing to find Draco.

Harry found him lying alone, far beyond the tumult of the Aurors encircling Lucius, as if the force of the Killing Curse had thrown him back away from it all. Harry stood for a moment, stunned, numb with disbelief, and stared down at the unmoving body at his feet.

Draco lay on his back in the snow, his hair spread out like pale rays of moonlight on the smooth icy white of the snow, his face peaceful. It was almost as if he slept with his head on the white of his pillow, safe in his bed at Hogwarts. One arm was outstretched, the lifeless hand open, empty. Harry's wand lay a few inches away.

Harry choked back the sob of grief that rose in his throat. No one had rushed to Draco's side, no one had stood beside him to protect him. It wasn't right. Draco shouldn't have been alone . . .

Tears filled his eyes and spilled, running unchecked down his face, as Harry knelt and gently, carefully, gathered the limp form into his arms. Tears fragmented his vision, splintering the world beyond sense into a thousand sharp shards, each holding a different broken image of his hopes, his dreams - a future shattered like glass. He closed his eyes and cradled Draco to his chest, burying his face in the soft, soft hair that was now cold and damp from the snow.

Retreating into himself, Harry turned inward, searching for solace in the center of his own magic, searching, too, for the fleeting bond he had sensed and tried to catch hold of so frantically in that moment of blackness. Had he let it slip away in his panic, was it lost forever after all? Desperately he searched for it . . . and finally, deep in the stillness between the thunderous beats of his own heart, he found it. Fragile and weak, it was nothing more than a faint flutter, but it was there - the heartbeat that was so close to his own as to be barely distinguishable, but was not his own.

Slow footsteps, hesitant and regretful, came to a stop beside him. Someone bent and picked up Harry's wand from the snow.

"Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, a world of sorrow in his voice. He put his hand lightly on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, come away. There's nothing you can do."

"No," gasped Harry, talking with effort, not wanting to take any of his concentration from that faint heartbeat. He pulled Draco closer as if afraid that letting go would sever the tenuous connection he clung to between them. He looked up at Dumbledore, his tearful eyes full of shock and anguish, but also determination. "He's not dead," he whispered.