Game of Chess
'I have never played before, headmaster.'
Albus gestured towards a seat, which Severus took with some hesitation. He felt uneasy under the old man's piercing gaze, and he had no fond memory of this office to say the least.
'That is no bother, I rather enjoy explaining rules', the headmaster replied lightly. 'Now, tell me. How was your first week?'
'I am not a sore loser, headmaster, but I must say I am not enjoying playing a game in which I always wind up defeated.'
Dumbledore had been the one, once again, to say checkmate after a long hour of intense thinking and plotting on both sides, and Severus, frustrated at himself, was overcome by a deep, childlike disappointment he felt unable to hide completely. The headmaster and he had been playing for a long time now, and he had been an exceptional student; but the headmaster, it was known, was an exceptional player, with not far from a century's worth of experience. This obstacle left the young Potion master with only a handful of victories to his name, all of which he attributed to distraction, unwilling or not, on the older man's part.
He was discouraged.
'Do you know that there is someone in this castle who is even more skilled than I am?' Albus asked cheerfully, rearranging the pieces.
'And who would that be?' Severus asked, genuinely intrigued.
He watched as the headmaster smiled and looked towards the door, as if expecting someone. Right at this moment a figure appeared at the entrance: it was none other than Minerva McGonagall. Severus immediately felt uneasy and turned back towards the headmaster, expecting him to speak. Albus acknowledged the other Gryffindor with a respectful nod, sensing as much as the two others did the tension that had suddenly filled the room. He was perfectly aware that both of them disliked one another - Minerva could not help but distrust the boy and looked at him with a perpetual air of suspicion, which chagrined the headmaster deeply; Severus, used to being looked upon in such a way, responded with a mixture of shyness and disdain inherited from his school years. Yes, deep down, he did not like her and he had all the reasons not to. To him she was the teacher who had turned her back on him, and, contrary to Albus, had given him no reason to disregard the fact, or at least put his feelings aside; to Minerva, he was a death eater, and he had not given her any reason to think otherwise, for he remained very secretive and incredibly protective of his own house.
She put down a handful of papers on Albus' desk, only acknowledging her younger colleague with a quick glance.
'Minerva is even more gifted than I am', the headmaster said, thanking her in the process. 'Now she wins almost every time. But even her, Severus, did not beat me after only two years of practice.'
Minerva smiled slightly.
'That's right. It took me three years.'
She was silent for a moment.
Then, for the first time, she turned towards Severus, examining the board before looking at him directly.
'What moves has he taught you already?'
'Oh, quit the disapproving glare, Minerva. I am still going to win this time.'
'Yes, but you could have done it in only three moves'.
'Let's say I am purposely making the game last longer to savour every moment of the headmaster's agony', Severus replied viciously.
'Ah. Well, not such a bad strategy, then.'
Albus folded his arms.
'You both are so cruel.'
'That is very dramatic. Tell me again why you are going out of your way to build this? Do you expect there will be a sensational unfolding of some sort, and that you will be there to see it?'
Minerva looked up at her colleague, stepping away from the life-size chess board she had been working on the whole morning. She grinned upon hearing Severus' sarcastic tone, not only because she was glad he had finally decided to come down and help her, but because she knew exactly what to reply to him.
'I would hope so', she replied ironically. 'Besides, do you really think you are the right person to criticize my "dramatic" aspirations, Severus? Albus showed me your poem - he read it all to me last night.
The Potion Master blushed.
Severus shook his head categorically, looking down at Albus who was standing at the bottom of the stairs.
'I have told you no already, headmaster, and I am not known for changing my mind so easily. Now, if you will excuse me, I have 50 essays to grade, and aspirin to take before I even attempt it.'
'No potion?' Albus asked innocently.
'Whatever the Academy says, there are muggle medicines no potion can outdo, and I really don't see why that is such an issue.'
'An opinion which we very unfortunately have to keep to ourselves', Albus replied suggestively. 'Listen, what would you say about a challenge? A game of chess - if you win, you do not have to come.'
'Are you really expecting me to attend a Christmas party involving Gilderoy Lockhart, Albus?' Severus asked exasperatedly, taking a few more steps up.
'No, but I am quite sure you won't say no to a challenge, am I right?'
The younger man sighed. 'Fine. I'm in. What are your terms?'
Albus smiled angelically.
'Mine? Oh, none. Minerva will be my champion. You shall ask her tonight. Have a nice day, dear boy!'
Severus looked indignant.
'Albus, that is not what we have agreed upon! Albus-'
'See you on Christmas Eve, Severus!' Albus shouted merrily, swiftly disappearing from view.
'So?' Minerva asked, almost anxiously. Severus was smiling, looking at his drink and pretending not to mind the ongoing conversation. Albus put his glasses back on.
'I am afraid it is official, Minerva: there is a tie. Same number of victories against one another this year.' Turning towards Severus, he added, 'Congratulations, my boy!'
Severus grinned and, turning to Minerva, declared quite dramatically: 'My dear friend, it seems that our next game will be of the utmost importance. The person unfortunate enough to lose will have to... Be the one dealing with Umbridge's complaints for the entire week.'
Suddenly revitalized, Minerva straightened up in her seat. She gave Severus a merciless, ominous look.
'Deal'.
Severus looked down at the board, frowning in concentration. He was oblivious to Albus' and Minerva's intense stares, though they would have been quite unsettling to anyone else - they had decided to team up tonight, and that seemed to him like the ultimate challenge. The atmosphere in the office was dense, almost electric, and for all they knew nothing existed in the world right now outside of the chess board in front of them.
At last Severus made a movement towards the Bishop - but he gasped suddenly - he dropped the piece, gripping his left forearm. It was a brutal, painful wake-up call for all three of them.
'I am summoned', he said blankly, getting up in a hurry.
'Severus -'
'I will be alright, Albus. Don't worry about me'.
His voice, again, sounded bitter. Minerva looked down at the Bishop which lied still on the carpet beside her foot.
It had taken her weeks to gather the courage to come back in again. As she had expected it, not much had changed, and all was terribly still. Through the white light coming out the windows she could see spirals of dust suspended in the air, and behind them was the headmaster's chair, empty, heavy, half hidden in the shadow.
It was clear that Severus had not dared touch anything that had belonged to Albus. It was all there, even his collection of old magnifying glasses which they had often thought took up a ridiculous amount of space in the room.
Minerva could feel Albus's portrait staring at her, she felt his gaze burning her back, but she did not turn, looking obstinately at the massive wooden desk in front her. On its left side was the chess board. She smiled fondly, feeling a lump form in her throat; but as she came closer, her heart sank suddenly. It sank, if it were possible, even deeper in her chest, more violently and painfully than it had done these past few weeks.
The chess game was untouched. It was exactly like they had left it more than a year ago, during the last game they had ever played together, that night when the Dark Lord had so brutally interrupted them. They had never gotten the chance to resume it. Albus had carefully put it aside, and then... And then...
Had Severus stared at it every time he had been in the room?
Silent tears escaped her eyes and she stood there motionless, squeezing in her fist the Bishop that had been placed beside the board. She tried to wipe her tears away with both her hands, but they kept coming, fierce, rebellious - and suddenly she could breathe, and she started weeping out loud, unashamed and terribly, terribly heartbroken.
From behind her, a grief-stricken voice rose:
'I think, Minerva, that he was about to win.'