Chess

1976 — Wizard Race is Rising

"You wanna lose your only friend?
Well, keep it up, you're doing fine!"

Hermione was red in the face as she shouted that, her hair surrounding her head like a wild bush.

For a moment Ron looked taken aback by her fierce reply, but in a second he banished the look of confusion from his face.

"You? A friend?" he retorted. "You don't act like one. As far as I know friends support each other, and don't do their best to start arguments at any given moment!"

"And that's my fault, I suppose?" Hermione answered.

"Besides," Ron said, changing the subject, seemingly at loss about what to answer to Hermione. "Harry has always been my friend, too, and we'll be best friends forever! He doesn't run off to spend time with others just like that!"

"Really? Then tell me why your best friend wasn't watching your match today! And why is he sitting in the kitchens right now with Neville, drinking hot chocolate and playing a nice, friendly, peaceful game of chess with chessmen that look like you and Malfoy would after having taken some spoilt Polyjuice Potion!"

"Neville's not a Slytherin!" Ron shouted, then thought for a moment. "They are?"

"Yes, they are!" Hermione shouted back.

"You're lying! You just can't take it that you're not as good a friend as he is!" Ron spat at her.

Hermione felt tears springing into her eyes, and she almost started punching Ron in fury.

"Besides, if I remember correctly, it was you that drank Polyjuice Potion with a cat hair in it! So don't go blaming your faults on others!"

"That was my fault, now? It was a human mistake!"

"Well, whose mistake do you think it was then? Bulstrode's? Of course, how can I be so stupid; she should have told you after you fought with her in the Duelling Club that in case you had taken a hair from her robes and were planning to use it in a forbidden potion you should be careful because she had a cat! Naturally it was all Bulstrode's fault!" Ron shouted sardonically.

"Why this humiliation?
Why treat me like a fool?
I've taken shit for seven years
And I won't take it anymore!"

"Now it's me humiliating you, isn't it? May I remind you that I'm the chess champion here!"

"You're not the champion yet! You must beat Malfoy first!" Hermione replied.

"Malfoy? Piece of cake! He's just a cheating bastard, a Slyherinish spawn," Ron said in an offhand way.

Hermione almost choked on air hearing Ron use the very words she had used earlier, though the Slytherin they were insulting was different. But she quickly drowned the though, and turned her anger towards Ron again.

"You have no right to call him names, what with how you're acting yourself!"

"I'm only teasing Slytherins
With gentle bonhomie
And you've a better reason
To be anti-them than me," Ron said.

"There's a time and there's a place!" Hermione spat acidly.

"Well how about here and now? Are you for me or for them?" Ron asked.

"There's a time and there's a place," Hermione repeated.

"1976 — Wizard race is rising
1976 — Wizard race is fighting," Ron started in a low menacing whisper.

"What? That's when Voldemort became a general threat, wasn't it? That has nothing to do with chess!"

"Voldemort has something to do with everything!"

"And now it's 'wizard race' for you, I see," Hermione said. "Not 'Voldemort' or 'pure-blood pig-heads' as it used to be. What's gotten into you!"

"Well, you might not understand, but maybe I'm a little under pressure here! And maybe I have a responsibility to win for my house, my family; for my girlfriend!"

Ron was as close to Hermione now as Malfoy had been just some minutes ago. Hermione felt his breath now brushing over her face; saw the pure, fiery, depressive anger in his eyes. There was nothing even resembling the cold calculation she had seen in Malfoy's eyes, instead she saw burning passion.

Out of nowhere she suddenly remembered what she had pondered earlier — was that passion for her or for chess? Now, standing here, only inches away from her boyfriend, she was convinced that she was so much more that a stupid game, and that there was no way Ron could value playing chess more than being with her.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said suddenly in a silent voice, tears now freely streaming down her cheeks. "Of course you're under pressure."

Ron seemed to feel uncomfortable. It was as if he had preferred a fighting and shouting Hermione to that crying Hermione.

He sighed. "It's just—

"I'd have thought you'd support
Any attack on these people
On the people who ran
Mindlessly over your lineage."

"Please," Hermione whispered, "let's try to keep blood out of this all."

"Why should we if they don't?"

"Please, for my sake!"

"Don't let them fool you for
Twenty years on they're the same."

"I'm not being fooled," Hermione insisted silently. "I just— I mean Dumbledore started this tournament to promote inter-house unity, but look at us now!" She laughed mirthlessly. "It's crazy around here! Before it was just between Slytherin and Gryffindor, or rather Slytherin and the rest, but now look at how Susan has been glaring at Michael every time they meet, and how Madam Pomfrey is trying to event a potion against all those new variations of the skin-colouring potions… And to top it all this Chess Championship is driving us apart intra-house, as well."

Ron stepped closer to his girlfriend and gave her a comforting hug.

"Besides," Hermione added, "I'm really tired of everyone bringing up the blood purity issue, as I already said. I mean, Voldemort is dead!"

"I know, I know," Ron patted her on her back awkwardly, then let her go of his embrace. "But that's the problem. They can't acknowledge their defeat. And as for our side still angry with them — we have every right for that after all they did. And old habits die hard."

"Believe me, this will one day be the downfall of all wizardry!" Hermione insisted with fierceness in her voice again. Then she mimicked Ron from earlier.

"1976 — Wizard race is falling
1976 — Wizard race is dying."

Ron smiled quietly, to which Hermione answered by curving her lips, too.

"They see chess as a war
Playing with pawns just like Muggles—" Ron started, but his sentence was cut short by a slap from Hermione.

Clutching his red cheek, he looked at a suddenly fuming Hermione.

"What did I do? That was uncalled for!"

"How dare you say something like that!" Hermione shouted, raising her hand for another go.

"Something like what? I said nothing wrong!" Ron said, struggling to get hold of Hermione's both hands, but the latter was wriggling wildly, her hands flaying, so it was impossible for him to succeed, it was rather more probable that his nose would be punched broken in the process.

"How dare you say something like that about Muggles! I mean, compare them to pawns — useless pieces that can be used as shields, but when they've served their purpose can easily be disposed of…"

"I didn't mean—"

"I said I didn't want the blood issue to be brought up, not by anyone, and you just can't respect others' wishes!"

"Herms, I—"

"And what with your own father working for the protection of Muggles, I'd have thought you had more tact, at least." With that Hermione managed another slap at Ron.

"My father is using them just as much as those people you despise!" Ron shouted back, finally cracking again. "He just doesn't kill them, but he uses their brains, their— I don't know. But he just can't have them all dead because then he'd be out of job!"

Hermione felt her mouth fall open. Had Ron really just said that the only reason Arthur Weasley didn't prance around shooting killing curses at people was because then he'd be out of job? Her brain seemed to have forgotten working for a moment, and she didn't know how to answer. So she just turned away and walked towards the Portrait Hole.

"If you walk out on me
They've got you like they got your Crookshanks!" Ron shouted after her.

"Your half-blooded cat," he added as an afterthought. "Were he alive now he'd surely be clawing your face!"

Hermione stopped with one of her legs already through the Hole, and turned to Ron.

"You really are more pathetic than I thought," she spat. "I know you hated him, but this is just ridiculous.

"You know that there's nothing I've done!
That he has been clawing me my whole life!"

"So you finally own it that he's a cruel, savage beast!" Ron shouted victoriously.

Hermione pulled her leg back from the corridor and rounded up on Ron once again, her hand raised for further punishment on him, but this time Ron was ready and managed to get his grip on her hands firmly before she lost her self-control again. It was definitely difficult to look down on someone that was at least a head taller than she, but Hermione did the best she could, giving Ron a glare she thought that only Mrs. Weasley could possibly rival.

"You're a cruel, savage beast!" she said, her voice indicating she was past anger and maliciousness now, and that all that had remained was inconsolable sadness and disappointment.

Ron's fingers tightened the grip on her wrists and Hermione could feel his hands twitching, as if he wanted to hit her. But for some reason this time Ron restrained himself.

"I'd rather you left now," he said silently, but not managing to overpower the intense anger in his voice.

"This is my common room, so I'm not going anywhere," Hermione said, still in this impartial, solitary voice.

"I'll go myself, then," Ron said, fuming, but didn't let go of his girlfriend's arms.

"There's the meeting in the library at five o'clock," Hermione reminded him, and he felt a lump in his throat hearing her voice.

Ron didn't answer. Instead he finally released Hermione, who instantly fell into an armchair like a bundle of unhappiness. When he reached the portrait hole he looked back because Hermione hadn't reacted in any way after collapsing into the chair. He opened the Portrait with one hand, still hoping that Hermione would say something.

Finally his wish was granted.

"And don't call me Herms," Hermione said as desolately as it is humanly possible.

A moment later Ron's back had disappeared behind the Fat Lady. Now Hermione let her tears flow free. She jumped up from the armchair and flung her clenched fists towards the sight where Ron had just stood, her mouth moving silently, her voice failing her.

After a few long calming breaths her hands dropped back to her sides, and she managed to sit down politely in an armchair. She watched the flames crackling merrily in the fireplace, as if nothing had happened. Then the view was blurred. She brushed away the tears, angry at herself for being so weak, but they returned. For a brief moment she wondered where everyone was, but then her mind moved back to her own perfect day — shouting at Ron and Harry, shouting at innocent bystanders, shouting at Moody, shouting at Malfoy, shouting at Snape, and now shouting at Ron again. And the day was all but over.

"Why'd you have to do this to me!" she screamed suddenly, all her fury bursting out in this one sentence.

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