A Victorious Draw

Prologue

This story was written for the HermioneBigBang on Live Journal. It is complete and will be updated on a regular basis. There are two gorgeous pieces of art to go along with this story and a soundtrack, as well, and I shall endeavor to post them with full credit given to the artists. A special thank you to Wildcatcdc and Sc010f for all their hard work.

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Hermione would have better luck getting shagged by Professor Snape than getting him to agree to her bloody interview, Ron thought as the pair continued to argue. It was then he had his epiphany. Hermione. Professor Snape. Shagging. The thought would not leave; it began materializing in his mind. No, not just shagging him, he thought, the longer he pondered. She belonged with Professor Snape, Ron realized in amazement. Seeing them together now, he wondered how he never saw it. They fit, in ways that he and Hermione never would. To admit that hurt, but not as much as it should have. He knew he owed it to these two people to show them they belong together.

Ron had stopped by Hermione’s office at the Ministry to take her to a late lunch. She didn’t have the most glamorous position, in Ron’s opinion, but she was satisfied; it gave her time to do what she was passionate about, writing an account of The Dark Wars (1970-1981 and 1991-1998) as told by the people who lived and fought and in some cases, died, during the wars. She had already interviewed his entire family, the teachers at Hogwarts, the surviving Order members and a few ghosts. Even Professor Dumbledore’s portrait granted Hermione’s request for information. Her last meeting had been with Harry, and she had come away cross and agitated. He would not tell her the details of Professor’s Snape’s memories and had told her if she wanted to know so badly, she was to ask the man, himself.

Ron crossed his arms and leaned against the wall in the corridor, observing Hermione and Professor Snape as they stood near the lifts at the far end of the hall. From her expression, Ron reckoned she was trying her best to convince the man to sit down with her to discuss his role in the wars. But just because the man survived and was now making a decent life for himself didn’t mean he was ready to face his past. He was refusing, from the look of consternation crossing Hermione’s face.

Seeing them together, Ron was struck again by the rightness of his conclusions. Hermione was neither awestruck nor afraid of the man, and for the professor’s part, the cruel sneer he usually wore was missing from his face. They balanced and complemented each other not just in looks; straight hair and curly hair, tall and short, but also in personalities and temperaments; pessimistic and eternally optimistic, light and dark. Where someone else would simply point out opposites, Ron saw scary similarities. They possessed brilliant minds and keen intellects, and both were weighed down by their memories.

The last observation cemented Ron’s idea. These two were trying to move on with their lives, but they needed each other to do it. Ron knew Professor Snape had made peace with himself and the roles he had to play, but moving beyond that still seemed out of his reach. When he lectured, Professor Snape still spoke in the present tense, as if the war was ongoing. The man needed to focus on his future.

For Hermione’s part, Ron knew it was much the same, but worse. Hermione was ready to let go of the past and move on, but wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. How to make a life for oneself in the Wizarding world was not something that could be learned from book reading or attending lectures. Neither could it be gleaned from interviewing other Muggle-borns or half-blood wizards, Ron thought slyly.

Ron loved Hermione, first as a friend, then as a lover, but seeing these two together, the cords that bound his heart with Hermione’s loosened. He could let her go if it meant giving her what she truly needed in her life, to make the nightmares go away, to bring back her enthusiasm and the sparkle in her eyes. Ron was tired of talking about the war, of rehashing every little detail and re-opening every wound. He lost Fred, and the thought made his stomach clench. It would hurt to lose Hermione, but he knew it was the right decision, for the three of them.

But how to do it? Being forthright would not get him very far. Hermione would be hurt, and Professor Snape would be caustic. Both would be unyielding. But Ron wasn’t a Wizarding Chess Grand Master for nothing.

He lifted himself from the wall, turned and walked away, unnoticed by the witch and wizard, towards the emergency stairwell. Hermione and the professor’s voices rose in unison with each other, and Ron smiled. They were not going to get together on their own, he knew, so it was time to plan his game strategy.

Ron entered the joke shop a few minutes later and spotted George near the sales counter. Seven years on and George was still lost without his twin, but from his misery came his greatest inventions. Working together, Ron and George had beefed up the newly formed WSD, the Weasley Stealth Division, a professional line of counter-espionage devices, designed specifically for the protection from and detection of Dark Magic. They were the exclusive suppliers for the Aurors and Unspeakables in Great Britain, and international agencies were beginning to notice the company, as well.

It was at an MLE convention where the Weasley Stealth Division line was being introduced where Ron became reacquainted with his former professor. The conventions introduced and provided the newest Wizarding technology to law enforcement agencies, and that Ron had attended the weeklong event to showcase the company. Professor Snape, being in high demand on the lecture circuit, was speaking on the final night. Harry had told him their former teacher also lectured at workshops concentrating in counter-espionage and intelligence across Europe for both Muggle and Wizarding agencies.

Severus Snape’s fame as a spy had come to light at the end of the war. He had been given an Order of Merlin, First Class for his work. He gratefully accepted the award then promptly disappeared for four years. While there were many rumors surrounding his disappearance and his activities during that time, Harry had told him that Professor Snape was recuperating. Survivor’s Guilt, Harry had quoted. Ron couldn’t imagine anyone feeling guilty for living; even George, who had wanted to join his brother in death, didn’t felt guilty for being alive. No, it was the separation from his brother that was slowly killing him.

Late that night, after he tucked George in with kiss on the forehead and a draught of Dreamless Sleep, Ron walked over to the table holding his chessboard and sat down. The chess set didn’t see much action these days, for it was an old family heirloom. The twins had been his early teachers, and after their first match, neither brother could win against Ron, not even when they’d play together against him. Ron dreamt of chess matches.

Now, as he sat at his old set, running his hand lovingly across the faded black and white squares, murmuring hello to his bishops and knights, bowing his head slightly to the White Queen and King, he began envisioning another type of board altogether. Ron’s eyes shuttered, and he remembered the chess game he, Hermione and Harry had played their first year. Hermione had taken the Queen-side Rook position, Harry the Queen-side Bishop position, and he, Ron, had taken the King-side Knight position.

He would once again take the Knight position. Traditionally, the Knight was in the forefront of the game, controlling the center of the board, able to jump positions and pieces to get where he was needed.

Hermione would once again assume the Rook position. Able to cross wide swatches of the board, she was limited in that she could only move in one direction at a time. Some things never change, Ron mused. The Rook or Castle. Home. She was home—just not his home; she was Professor Snape’s now, although neither of them knew it. Ron paused; he supposed he best get used to addressing Professor Snape as Severus. He shuddered lightly at the thought, then moved on.

Severus. He was a challenge, certainly. The obvious position would be that of the Black King. But Severus was agile and quick: not one to stand back and let circumstances come to him, he would make bold moves. Not a Knight, Professor Snape, Severus, would see to his own fights in his own time. A Bishop then; in olden times, it was the Archer. Black King-side Bishop. That Dumbledore and Voldemort had both used him in the Good Bishop and Bad Bishop positions and yet, that he survived at the end of the day, was astounding. Both kings had sacrificed him for their own victory; yet Severus had seen to his own safety and made moves independent of both Masters.

Ron studied his board for another hour or so, until he worked out the opening moves and possible counter-moves, where the middlegame maneuvers would take place and likely outcomes for the endgame. The best possible outcome would be for a draw, with neither party able to win or lose on their own.

Ron admitted to himself he was a romantic. He also admitted to himself he couldn’t be in a relationship with a woman who had been so involved in the war. He needed to move on, as well. He would always have Hermione, of course. But perhaps it was time to place himself in this game, as well. Looking at his Black Pawns, he saw the face of a schoolmate. Pansy Parkinson.

He would need help on all fronts. George. George and Fred had always been Bishops, one light and the other dark. Together they crossed the entire board, attacking and retreating, maneuvering and positioning. Now Ron would ask George to play Knight. For Hermione, and gods willing, himself, as well.

Harry, he would certainly need his help, as well. A Bishop, once again. A good match for Severus, for they both played light Bishops, equal in strength and movements. Allies and fighters.

Ron sat back, finally relaxing the muscles in his back and shoulders that he hadn’t realized were tense. His pieces in place, he began practice moves, making small technical adjustments. The endgame was as he wished. A victorious draw.

Now, to put the game in motion.