Black Knight, White Queen

A/N: Alright... MAJOR apologies for the delay in this chapter. My life has been a bit of a disaster the past few weeks. Its not quite how it should be yet, but its getting there. lol. I believe there will be one more chapter after this, to end things how I want, but with luck it should be much easier to write than I found this chapter to be. ;)



Draco_Lover -- I think I've come to look at the characters in a slightly new way just while writing this story. It's like I found even more chess comparisons as I continued along, far more than I had originally anticipated. lol.



angeles -- I'm a sucker for a happy ending. I think the purpose of stories (well, other than PWP. lol) is to teach us something about human nature/ourselves/etc that we hadn't quite realized before... but I also think fiction is a means to allow us to escape our day to day worries, and I really don't understand why people want to escape their own worries by reading a story that makes them unhappy at the end. Then again, I'm weird. But I do hope that this story has, in its way, done its job and given you (and everyone else) a new perspective on things.



margaritama -- Thank you! :)



blondiexoxo -- LOL



jaceni -- Thanks!



Gryffindor_Slytherin -- Well I had to fit the story name in somewhere... and it did seem to do its job there. ;) lol



goldiducks -- Thank you for the compliment. You may yet find us returning to the "good stuff" before all is said and done.



darkangel -- Sorry I took so long, but I hope you enjoy it!



nowgolden -- Thank you!



kazfeist -- Hope you enjoy the checkmate. :)

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Black Knight, White Queen

Chapter 5: Checkmate

Checkmate: Trapping your opponent's king in a square where he has nowhere to run to -- no way of getting out of check, thus defeating him.

A week later Hermione woke to Draco holding her tighter than usual. She could tell by his breathing that he was awake, and when she turned to face him she found his expression full of worry. "What's wrong?" she asked immediately.



"This is it," he said. "The plan works today or it doesn't work at all. Are you ready?"



Hermione's heart began racing in concern. She had tried to convince him to allow her to take part, but he refused to allow her to do anything that would put her in more danger than was necessary. She'd done her sacrificing for this war, he insisted. Now it was his turn to fix things, and he couldn't function properly if he thought she was in danger. "I guess," she said slowly. "Is there no chance you'll change your mind and let me help?"



"No," Draco said firmly and immediately. "Hermione, please, promise me you won't come back and try to involve yourself."



The inclination was there, they both knew, but Hermione had to admit that the rather decent plan they'd come up with didn't have any room for her. Not to mention that when she looked at the heart wrenching expression on Draco's face, she just couldn't refuse him. "I promise."



He nodded and kissed her lips softly, handing her a portkey. He'd arranged for an out of the way place in Ireland where she would be safe until it was all over, but as it drew closer to the end he found himself wishing he'd found something for her on the other side of the world. He handed her a portkey wordlessly, their eyes speaking volumes of how much they cared for each other.



After he watched her disappear before his eyes, Draco began preparing himself for battle. It wasn't the same as the preparations he made every morning, when his only intent was to survive to fight another day. This time it wasn't the bitter limbo of the everyday, it was the flutters of concern knowing that this was their final chance. If they were dependant on the Boy Who Lived, then they were quickly running out of opportunity and everything had to go perfectly.



The plan was beautiful in its simplicity. Even, or perhaps especially, to a Slytherin. The things that Voldemort counted on for his strength would be his downfall, and if everything went right then there would be nothing Voldemort could do to stop his fall. The 'Dark Lord' would be no longer, and Draco would finally be able to live a life outside of that dark shadow.



When what was supposed to have been the 'final battle' at Hogwarts was over, Voldemort had become so arrogant over his success that no longer were many of the old precautions in place. Victory, it seemed, made people lazy. That was a precious mistake that Severus had planned perfectly how to use to their advantage.



With a sigh Draco turned to prepare himself, quickly donning the Death Eater mask and cloak that he had grown to despise. He took another of each and shrunk them, sticking them in his pocket before grabbing his wand and disapparating.



He arrived on the front porch of Spinner's End and waited patiently. Severus Snape was a cautious man, and his wards allowed none but him to apparate straight into the house. He wasn't kept standing for long, and Severus led him into the sitting room where Harry Potter was already waiting.



"Here," said Draco, taking out and resizing the extra Death Eater clothes he had brought. "These should fit you better than Snape's."



Potter reached out and took the items quickly, looking down at them in disgust. "Where is Hermione?"



"She's safe."



"You know," said Harry, "if you had gone with the original plan and let Snape claim her, she could be here for me to say goodbye to."



"That's your problem, Potter," said Draco angrily, though he kept his tone mostly in check. "You've never had an issue with putting her in harm's way. I do, and so I wouldn't want her anywhere near us right now."



"You never had an issue torturing her before."



Draco wasn't exactly sure what thoughts crossed his mind, because he saw red and next thing he was aware of he had Harry Potter by the next and shoved against the wall. Potter was doing nothing to escape his grasp, but his eyes were glued on Draco in hatred.



"It would seem I can't escape dunderheads no matter where I go," drawled Snape from the doorway. "Now if you are quite finished I think we should get started."



-x-x-x-x-x-



The Dark Lord's chambers were always dim and oppressing, never something that one could grow accustomed to or ignore. Even Severus Snape, who Draco admired greatly, had confessed unease whenever his presence was required there. Draco smirked slightly and the awkward gait of Harry Potter in Death Eater garb. Had it been a less serious situation, he would have let him continue making a fool of himself. As it was, they really couldn't afford to look suspicious.



"You walk like there is something shoved up your arse," Draco muttered under his breath. Potter stumbled through the next few steps, but when that was over he managed to adjust his gait so that it seemed at least somewhat normal.



Draco really wished that they hadn't been split up as they had. True, Snape was the stronger wizard and could do a better job of taking care of himself, but as it was Draco was being forced into a new appreciation for all the years Snape had spent teaching dunderheads. He hadn't paid so much attention before, because before he'd only needed to if he was in the mood to humiliate someone, but the Light was bloody lucky the Boy Who Lived had actually managed to survive this long.



The best plan was a simple plan, but Draco was very nearly worried about its simplicity. Maybe it was that he had only Potter at his back, or maybe it was that it involved facing the Dark Lord, but either way his stomach was twisting in knots and his mind was full of paranoia. At every turn he expected Death Eaters or even the Dark Lord himself to appear, killing them both, and each time that they were met with nothing he became even more certain that it would be coming up.



They had realized, during the Battle of Hogwarts, that not only must Nagini be the last remaining Horcrux that they had been seeking, but also that the Dark Lord was very much aware of the danger his beloved serpent was in. Only the most trusted of servants would be allowed to know her location, and he had spared no resource in seeing her protected. But now the war was believed over, and Lord Voldemort had been proclaimed the victor. He was now overconfident, and had made the mistake of lessening the protective measures.



So now he and Potter were on their way to face Voldemort in his very chamber, and Snape was on his way to finally deal with Nagini. As they approached the Dark Lord's chamber, Draco struggled to identify the two Death Eaters that stood guard outside the room. It was never easy, but he'd spent enough time around them that by studying body types and simple deduction he had recognized their identities before ever they spoke.



Macnair and Rowle. Not the best two to try misleading, but Draco also knew that they wouldn't be expecting anything. He just had to stay calm and hope Potter would do the same. Draco nodded ceremonially as he removed his Death Eater mask and spoke firmly. "We are here to relieve you as guard," he told them, though they would have already known to expect him as a replacement. Each guard was told only who would replace them, and no other details of those before or after them on guard were revealed until the last moment. It helped prevent the plotting of those who might be disloyal. At least that was the theory. In that way, at least, Voldemort was still cautious.



Rowle eyed him suspiciously, having never been satisfied with just how long it had taken Draco to see to Dumbledore's death. "Your mask too, Travers," said Rowle.



The second mask was removed revealing the glamoured face of Travers, who had originally been scheduled to partner with Draco as guard. In the dark hallway Potter could pass for the Death Eater fairly well, and Draco was satisfied that he had taken the precaution of using a glamour. Normally removing of masks wasn't necessary, but the older and more experienced Death Eaters had a noticeable distaste for the younger and therefore inexperienced ones.



Draco breathed a sigh of relief when Macnair and Rowle left without further difficultly, leaving him and 'Travers' to stand guard until they received word from Snape.



After nearly an hour of waiting, the signal came in the form of Snape's doe patronus appearing before them. With a quick nod to one another, Draco and Potter turned and together burst into the Dark Lord's chambers, quickly throwing up protective shields in the process.



Over the years, the numerous dark spells and potions that had prolonged Voldemort's life had also altered him. All knew it on sight, but the Death Eaters knew even more of the truth. Not only had Voldemort's features taken on progressively more serpent appearance, but his very sleeping patterns had grown less and less human in nature. Draco wouldn't necessarily say that he ate and rested as a snake might, but it was certainly nothing like what a human would do. During times of restfulness, Voldemort's reflexes were slower and his awareness hindered.



They had him trapped, like a chess piece backed into a corner of the board. Draco hung back, checking their surroundings for possible dangers and allowing Potter to advance. The prophecy had told of the Dark Lord's fall. Told that it would be at the hand of the Boy Who Lived, and so it would be.



There was no mercy in Potter's quick and decisive action, but neither was there hatred. The Boy Who Lived was a boy no longer, and understood that hatred led only to the darkness that men such as Voldemort inhabited. It was a place he did not wish to be, but he would do what he must to see himself and those he loved dearly safe again. He was not there to make a sacrifice. He had been doing that all his life, and the time for sacrifice was over.



It was all over rather quickly, and in the end simply. The dark wizard who had caused the death and corruption of so many fell easily. He was as a king in a chess game -- limited in his movements, depending more than he would like on the protection of those who served him.



And in a moment of lethargy, brought down by his nature and his mistaken belief of victory, the Black King fell prey to his opponent's advance. The Black Knight failed to protect him, no longer willing to sacrifice himself for his King's desires, and the White advanced.



Checkmate.