Title: Pawn takes King
Author: KC
Rating: R (for imagery later on, and possibly slash) - this chapter is rated PG-13.
Couplings: Harry/Snape(? If they do end up together, it'll be a bit. Though you may see 'hints'.)
Content: Angst/Romance(?)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I claim no profit from this story.
Notes: This...is odd. I don't know where it came from, but it's taken up residence. I currently am writing about three other fics also, though, so updates won't have an official time or anything.
PROLOGUE-
//'Bishop takes pawn. Really, you aren't even trying, are you?'
He looked around, but he couldn't see where the voice was coming from through the almost-forest of chess pieces. He thought for a minute that it resembled McGonagal's giant set from his first year, but the thought was quickly disregarded. Those chess pieces had been...forbidding. They didn't look actively cruel but they did their job of warning the player that this wouldn't be easy. No, this new set wasn't anything any professor of his, pardoning, perhaps, Snape, would've willingly thought up.
The pieces were alien. Recognizable as their part, but just slightly off. Odd. The pawns that normally resembled foot soldiers were still humanoid, but had somehow become more...canine...in aspect. They had fur over skin and muzzles where their mouth and noses should be. Their eyes were oddly bright, reflecting knives that Harry couldn't see anywhere but in their gaze. And instead of spears or swords or anything that would make sense, they carried what looked like a puzzle piece each.
The knights were next in his line of sight, and he winced slightly at the not-quite-right configuration. Where before, they had resembled literal knights and chargers rearing to defend, not they seemed to be a mixture of abstract shapes thrown together and squashed into resembling their old shape. They were sharp edged, like instead of a normal person, full and three dimensional, they were made of paper. His hands suddenly jumped in pain as he was reminded of every paper cut he'd ever received before the pain faded to a dull ache.
The Bishops looked relatively normal...almost. They looked like dignified older men who were about to condemn someone who most certainly deserved it to a lifetime of pain and humiliation. And that they liked the idea. Their hands were the only inhuman parts on either, but they were so eye catching that they didn't need anything else to be truly horrific. The left hands were obviously infected with...something. They looked extremely unhealthy, at any rate. Obviously and outrageously bloated, as if the bones had been taken out and replaced with puss and the blood had thickened. These were reaching out, as if to grab whoever they were condemning, and Harry felt his stomach turn at the idea of those infected hands touching anyone... But even so, they were better than the right hands. They were skeletal. Literally. They were bones with little strings on muscle and vein still attached. They seemed to be in a constant state of decay and the air around the right hands was thick with what looked like fumes, and they were pointing directly at him. The faces of the pieces were staring at him and their disapproving, sickly excited expressions didn't sit well with him and he moved on.
The rooks were still towers, though these too had changed. These rooks were decidedly sinister, tattered banners flying and dark clouds gathered to the tower peaks and rocky, deceiving harbors at the bases added to the bleak depression that surrounded the fortresses.
The Queen and the King...they seemed like the most normal pieces on the board until you reached the faces, that is. They didn't have one. Where their faces should've been, they had blank slates, almost. There was the faintest impression of features, but the only thing discernible were two hole where the eyes should have been. He found he couldn't look away from them, and it seemed he could just barely make out flecks of something in their depths... He really wanted to look away, and he didn't know why. The features were becoming clearer and he just knew that something horrible would happen if they formed completely. He really wanted to look away.
'Well, are you going to make your move, or are you forfeiting? I wouldn't blame you if you did, you know. In fact, it'd be easier on both of us.'
'I don't understand...' He couldn't look away from the faceless Queen despite wanting to with everything he had and he could just now start to make out a mouth... The voice was still coming from somewhere he couldn't see, and all he really wanted to do was look away. Why couldn't he look away?
'Well, of course you don't. Too early in the game for that. Are you going to make your move any time soon?'
'I...' His mouth felt sticky, and he had an overwhelming after taste of clover honey... The Queens face was almost half formed and there was a thick liquid slowly dripping down his back. The smell of honey suddenly overpowered him.//
Harry woke up gasping, faintly nauseous and shivering uncontrollably.
Author: KC
Rating: R (for imagery later on, and possibly slash) - this chapter is rated PG-13.
Couplings: Harry/Snape(? If they do end up together, it'll be a bit. Though you may see 'hints'.)
Content: Angst/Romance(?)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I claim no profit from this story.
Notes: This...is odd. I don't know where it came from, but it's taken up residence. I currently am writing about three other fics also, though, so updates won't have an official time or anything.
PROLOGUE-
//'Bishop takes pawn. Really, you aren't even trying, are you?'
He looked around, but he couldn't see where the voice was coming from through the almost-forest of chess pieces. He thought for a minute that it resembled McGonagal's giant set from his first year, but the thought was quickly disregarded. Those chess pieces had been...forbidding. They didn't look actively cruel but they did their job of warning the player that this wouldn't be easy. No, this new set wasn't anything any professor of his, pardoning, perhaps, Snape, would've willingly thought up.
The pieces were alien. Recognizable as their part, but just slightly off. Odd. The pawns that normally resembled foot soldiers were still humanoid, but had somehow become more...canine...in aspect. They had fur over skin and muzzles where their mouth and noses should be. Their eyes were oddly bright, reflecting knives that Harry couldn't see anywhere but in their gaze. And instead of spears or swords or anything that would make sense, they carried what looked like a puzzle piece each.
The knights were next in his line of sight, and he winced slightly at the not-quite-right configuration. Where before, they had resembled literal knights and chargers rearing to defend, not they seemed to be a mixture of abstract shapes thrown together and squashed into resembling their old shape. They were sharp edged, like instead of a normal person, full and three dimensional, they were made of paper. His hands suddenly jumped in pain as he was reminded of every paper cut he'd ever received before the pain faded to a dull ache.
The Bishops looked relatively normal...almost. They looked like dignified older men who were about to condemn someone who most certainly deserved it to a lifetime of pain and humiliation. And that they liked the idea. Their hands were the only inhuman parts on either, but they were so eye catching that they didn't need anything else to be truly horrific. The left hands were obviously infected with...something. They looked extremely unhealthy, at any rate. Obviously and outrageously bloated, as if the bones had been taken out and replaced with puss and the blood had thickened. These were reaching out, as if to grab whoever they were condemning, and Harry felt his stomach turn at the idea of those infected hands touching anyone... But even so, they were better than the right hands. They were skeletal. Literally. They were bones with little strings on muscle and vein still attached. They seemed to be in a constant state of decay and the air around the right hands was thick with what looked like fumes, and they were pointing directly at him. The faces of the pieces were staring at him and their disapproving, sickly excited expressions didn't sit well with him and he moved on.
The rooks were still towers, though these too had changed. These rooks were decidedly sinister, tattered banners flying and dark clouds gathered to the tower peaks and rocky, deceiving harbors at the bases added to the bleak depression that surrounded the fortresses.
The Queen and the King...they seemed like the most normal pieces on the board until you reached the faces, that is. They didn't have one. Where their faces should've been, they had blank slates, almost. There was the faintest impression of features, but the only thing discernible were two hole where the eyes should have been. He found he couldn't look away from them, and it seemed he could just barely make out flecks of something in their depths... He really wanted to look away, and he didn't know why. The features were becoming clearer and he just knew that something horrible would happen if they formed completely. He really wanted to look away.
'Well, are you going to make your move, or are you forfeiting? I wouldn't blame you if you did, you know. In fact, it'd be easier on both of us.'
'I don't understand...' He couldn't look away from the faceless Queen despite wanting to with everything he had and he could just now start to make out a mouth... The voice was still coming from somewhere he couldn't see, and all he really wanted to do was look away. Why couldn't he look away?
'Well, of course you don't. Too early in the game for that. Are you going to make your move any time soon?'
'I...' His mouth felt sticky, and he had an overwhelming after taste of clover honey... The Queens face was almost half formed and there was a thick liquid slowly dripping down his back. The smell of honey suddenly overpowered him.//
Harry woke up gasping, faintly nauseous and shivering uncontrollably.