Checkmate

Checkmate

All my life I have loved chess - the simplicity, the control one must exercise, the skill involved in taking out the king, the sacrifices. I love the rules that no one can break without forfeiting the match. It does help that I am good at chess, since I am rubbish at everything else.

I once hoped to impress Hermione with chess. Intelligence was no use since there is no student at Hogwarts as smart as Hermione so I couldn't just study hard to win her attention. Quidditch was a no-go as well, Harry had the prowess on the Quidditch pitch and the one game last year where I played well, She went off with Harry and Hagrid into the Forbidden Forrest. That hurt. That was last year though, back when I thought that Hermione and I were meant for each other. I know now that this could never happen. She's so smart, to the point of extreme annoyance and I'm, well, never mind. Let's just say that the Hogwarts students don't think too kindly of people like me. That is why no one but Hermione knows.

I remember my first game of chess. I was five years old and Bill was teaching me. He taught all of us but I was the only one with the self-control to sit still. Even Percy got bored and wandered off in search of Scabbers. I remember the thrill of taking my first piece, a pawn, but a piece nevertheless. Bill beat me of course but now I beat him easily. I have the natural ability that he knows nothing of.

This was why when I see the notice for chess club on the Gryffindor notice board; I let out a whoop of delight that I cannot disguise as a cough.

"Ron!" Hermione grimaces. "I'm studying."

"Sorry Hermione," I say, throwing myself into a soft armchair. "It's just that I'm so pleased. There's a chess club starting up."

"I saw," Hermione says briskly, her quill scratching over her History of Magic essay, the one I should be writing actually, and her bushy chestnut hair even frizzier than ever. "You're going." A statement not a question. Of course I'm going.

*

Professor McGonagall has organised the chess club. She looks worn and frazzled, a lot older than before she was stunned. Her greying hair is tied in a bun so tight that her temples are pulsing. She smiles at me, remembering my first year when I got past her giant chess set.

I am the only Gryffindor at the meeting. The majority at the meeting are Ravenclaws, prized above all else for their logic. A few Hufflepuffs are there, Ernie Macmillan who is trying to build up his extra-curricular activities, Susan Bones and a third year whose name I cannot remember. There are also the Slytherins. Blaise Zabini, his dark features and hawk-like nose, pug faced Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy, my most bitter enemy. He is taller than Harry now but still pasty, with a pointed chin and nose and hard grey eyes. He gives me a sneering glance but Professor McGonagall signals for silence. My cheerful mood has been depleted by the mere sight of him.

"Students, today you are to learn the basics of chess. If you are an advanced chess player, please assemble at the far end of the classroom and I will be with you right away."

I wander down to the back of the room. I am definitely not a beginner. Padma Patil, Susan Bones and Draco Malfoy join me, Malfoy with the usual sneer on his smug face. Professor McGonagall comes to talk to us which is lucky because I have to grip the chair legs so hard that my knuckles are turning pasty yellow and any moment I would have flung myself at him, pummeling the smirk off his jaw.

"You will play one another at chess. Then, the winners will play each other. Susan Bones please play Draco Malfoy, Ronald Weasley against Padma Patil." Padma wrinkles her pretty nose delicately. She is obviously remembering the Yule Ball.

We set up; Malfoy looking disgusted at having to play a Hufflepuff, Susan simply looking distant. I am white so get to start. And the game begins.

From the beginning, I know that I will beat Padma. She has skill, yes, but careful skill. She doesn't take risks and she barely takes a single piece of mine before I have swept five of her pieces off the board in fragments. Her large brown eyes signal defeat and I know that she knows. We finish before Malfoy and Susan. Personally, I'm rooting for Susan. I don't want to play Malfoy at chess.

Susan puts up a good fight; I'll say that for her. She has something that Padma lacks, a sort of energy. Her eyes light up when she has an idea and she nibbles her bottom lip in thought. Apparently, I bite my fingernails while I play, but I never notice - not until afterwards when my fingers are raw and pink. However, Susan loses inevitably so I have to set up my board again, this time to play against Malfoy.

There are no insults coming from Malfoy, veiled or otherwise. He seems out of focus, in another world, the chess world. We start and a furious game begins going long on into the night. Professor McGonagall has dismissed the beginners and is sitting at her desk under the flickering candlelight, marking our Transfiguration essays from the other day. Every so often, she makes a small 'humph' noise.

While playing I am aware of everything going on around me, Susan and Padma discussing Hogwarts: A History, the odd portrait making strange snoring noises, Draco Malfoy grimacing over his next move. Yet, I am also watching my game, almost as though I am in the game. Every piece I lose, I feel furious and every piece I gain, I cannot disguise the look of triumph on my face, nor do I try to.

The game is reaching its end. I can sense it. I cannot tell who will lose and neither, I feel, can Malfoy. His face is tense and drawn and his eyes flicker. Was that a flicker of triumph or defeat? His eyes never show emotion no matter how strained or jubilant his face or smile are.

It's my move. I move my last pawn left on the board, one square forward. I see another flicker. Behind the stone there is fire, I can tell. He moves his bishop. "Check." I glance wildly at the board. How did he do that? I think for a while. The Kouzminova shuffle. Well, I've lost, I think. I move my pawn, knowing defeat is imminent no matter where I place my King. "Checkmate," Malfoy says softly. My King is smashed into the chessboard.

I stand up slowly, shaking a little. How can someone with that much skill be so evil? During the game, I had almost forgotten that I hate him. All my emotion becomes too much and I take in a deep breath, readying myself for insults. "Weasel lost. Suppose you're used to it by now, Weasel King?" but none come. Malfoy nods his head at me and leaves without a second glance.

Professor McGonagall leaves her desk. "He's a brilliant player, Mister Weasley. Don't beat yourself up about it." I nod tensely. It's not that. I just can't help but see Malfoy in a different light. Chess has always been my first love and now to have someone I despise, someone whose entire person from his family to his name are evil, beat me. There must be some good in him to play that well.

I walk back to Gryffindor with Susan Bones. She is the essence of Hufflepuff, loyal to a fault, kind and unassuming. A couple of years ago I would have been interested in her. But a couple of years ago, I thought of Hufflepuffs as a bunch of idiots. I've learnt not to judge, especially considering what I am. We part at the second floor, her turning off down a long corridor and me going up more stairs to the Gryffindor common room.

There is someone waiting outside the portrait hole to Gryffindor. A thin blond someone with cold grey eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Malfoy?" I whisper furiously.

Malfoy raises his eyebrows. "Language, Weasley. I suppose you don't want to hear what I have to say."

It is my turn to raise my eyebrows. "Hear what you have to say? It'll be something nasty no doubt."

For the first time ever, Malfoy looks uncomfortable. "Just shut it Weasley. I came here to say good game. You're a brilliant chess player."

"Thanks," I say, surprised but not displeased. "You're pretty damn good yourself."

"Well," Malfoy says. "I'd best be off. See you on the Quidditch pitch, Weasley."

I don't know what makes me do it. I reach out and touch his hair. It is silky and feathery light under my fingertips, not like the gelled helmet I was expecting. Malfoy is staring at me in an odd manner. Fair enough really.

"You," he whispers, pointing his finger at me. "You're gay?"

I have been found out at long last. Only Hermione worked it out, spotted me watching Seamus out of the corner of my eye, saw the anguish in my face. But Hermione is my best friend not my greatest enemy. I wait for the jeers but they never come. I wait for the sound of footsteps running off to tell their nasty Slytherin buddies. I wait for the defamation of me. But it never comes. Something happens that even I could not expect. Malfoy leans in slightly. I can smell his scent, like Hallowe'en in autumn when the air is cool and smoky. His lips brush against mine. And again. This is my first kiss, I think. It's not but it feels that way.

"You are too?" I ask, when we stop kissing.

Draco (I cannot call him Malfoy now) nods slightly. "You'd be surprised at how many confused Witches and Wizards there are who think these sorts of feelings are a sin," he says quietly. "I know I did."

"Does anyone know?" I ask.

"Yes," he says shamefacedly. "Pansy was my cover. She's a true friend. You?"

"Hermione worked it out. Hermione always does."

"Saw you watching the great Harry Potter." Draco states. His face draws into a sneer.

"No," I say quietly. "Seamus Finnegan."

Draco raises his eyebrows and grins slightly. "You and me both mate."

"It's the blond hair," I say grinning. "I'm a sucker for blonds."

For the first time ever, I see happiness in Draco's eyes.