A/N: Ravenclaw, Prefect, Standard, Snail. W/C: 1087

Black as night and shining like the stars, he was beautiful. Every line of his onyx figure made it clear that he was dangerous, and his passion for the game only made him a deadlier opponent. Unbridled determination curved his eyes into a vicious grimace. As the other warriors moved around him, I watched from the sidelines.

There was little I could do but observe, and I did so with a steady gaze as each of his brethren slid into various formations. They approached the enemy with expert precision: first with stealth, then with force, and, finally, with sacrifice. I had seen the game played before, and I understood the risks. He understood the risks.

The rare moments that he was near enough for me to speak to him, I reminded him of my offer to take his place. He knew how it hurt me to watch him suffer and I knew how he hated to see me there, along the sidelines, watching as he was torn apart. I knew he was unlikely to accept the trade; our love set us at a stalemate. As dearly as I wanted to spare him from his role in the war, he wanted to spare me from what was sure to be my death. Soft as I was, I couldn't survive the same level of force that he could. He would be shattered one moment and magically repaired in fine condition the next - the nature of his being and the curse of his existence. I was not so reparable. However, I could hardly stand to see him suffer, and I continued to offer myself in his place whenever he was close enough to hear.

Then, after one particularly grueling skirmish, I made up my mind. When darkness fell, I took my chance.

Night was the only time when I could do what needed to be done, regardless of the cost to myself. This was no time for tears, and I didn't shed any as I scaled the side of his box. His lord, the Master Weasley, was rarely careful enough to put his soldiers away properly, and it was easy for me to get in.

He was laying in a nestled bed of purple velvet, facing away from me. I thought that that was best. His face was strong and sharp, and I would have loved to have seen it one last time, but this was better. It would be easier to carry out my plan if I didn't see his face.

The velvet felt terrible against my skin, but there was nothing to be done about that. My soldier... My love... My knight… I pushed myself underneath him, nudging him with my head and sliding him across my back. When he landed, there was no clatter, just a soft thud. I winced at his fall but was ultimately relieved; he'd landed on the carpet, not the table, and his life would be spared.

I thought only of that as I waited for morning to come. Master Weasley dumped the boxes of soldiers and myself unceremoniously and without looking. I knew the routine well, and took my place atop a black square on the battlefield, between a castle and the King's bishop.

Master Weasley called out orders and my comrades obeyed without question. I strived to do the same, having long since memorized the position of each callout: H7, C3… I knew every order.

So when I was suddenly commanded to take a stand at H6, I did so obediently. It wasn't until I had arrived and lined myself up with the approaching enemy that I realized what was happening.

Master Potter was known to be a poor leader, and we were far superior. However, Master Weasley would often sacrifice low-ranking soldiers in order to take out high-ranking enemies. As I saw the White Queen, head held high, approaching me diagonally across the battlefield, and I realized my fellow soldiers were lined up behind me, I recognized what was happening.

I would be sacrificed, as my love had been sacrificed so many times before, in order to benefit my comrades.

I thought only of him, of my love, as I closed my eyes, and waited for the blow to land.

I waited for the sound of cracking as the queen's sword pierced my shell, or else of the loss of all senses as some softer portion of my body was attacked. Instead, I felt myself being lifted away from my position and I skittered across the battlefield.

My eyes flew open and I looked back in time to see him standing proudly in my place. The White Queen, surprised by this change, hesitated. Then she nodded as my knight drew himself to his full height. Then....

He shattered.

And I think I was shattered, too, inside. To have a love so dear that even an endless battle cannot stop it… That is the game, and one we always win no matter the enemy.

_X_X_

Ron looked down, ready to gloat as he commanded his next piece to take Harry's queen, but he paused. Somehow, a snail had found its way onto the chessboard and was stuck on its side, away from where Ron's knight had just been smashed.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, reaching for it and trying his best not to touch anything slimy. "How did that get on there?"

"It's been there this whole time," Hermione muttered from behind her book. "I wondered how long it would take you to notice."

"You were going to let Harry's queen smash a snail to death?" Ron retorted, a bit horrified. "That's brutal, Hermione.'

"No, clearly not," Hermione scoffed. The book was obscuring her face but her tone made it clear she was disappointed in Ron's assumption. Harry was still staring at the board, no doubt wondering how he didn't see a snail there, and wasn't much support for Ron as Hermione continued. "The knight saved him. You really should've been watching, the knight's been working his way around your elbows to get up there for some time. He took the snail's place in the end."

Ron and Harry exchanged glances and Ron cleared his throat.

"Right then," he murmured. "Uh, bishop to H6."

The queen shattered at the bishop's attack, her pieces falling mercifully away from wear the snail's goo had remained on the board. On the other side, pieces of the fallen knight slowly pieced themselves back together and the snail watched from the sidelines. How beautiful a love, indeed.