Checkmate

Part II - The Game - Chapter 9

The rest of the class dragged on for an eternity of worry for Harry. Even after his recitation, Draco never glanced back at him. For the entire period, Draco strictly confined himself to looking up at Snape and looking down to take notes, and Harry's nerves were beginning to fray by the time Snape dismissed them. He packed up his stuff as quickly as he could. Now if he could just get out of the classroom fast enough to catch Draco in the hall before his next class . . . but the aisles were blocked by his classmates. He watched helplessly, as over the heads of his friends, he saw that one familiar blond head escape out the door. Draco, he thought, why are you doing this? What could have possibly gone wrong between last night and this morning?

"Potter!" Snape's sharp tone knifed through Harry's thoughts. "You will remain after class."

Harry swore under his breath. He motioned to Ron and Hermione to go on without him, waited until the classroom cleared, then walked to the front of the class and stood in front of Snape's desk, feeling deeply aggravated.

Snape looked down on him, black eyes glittering. "So tell me, Potter," he drawled, in his low sneering voice, "was it the kicking or the kissing that caused your dramatic turnaround in this class."

Harry was suddenly furious. He needed to find Draco, not stand here being subjected to this ridiculous taunting. "Neither," he said fiercely, looking Snape right in the eye. "It was having a better teacher."

Snape drew in a sharp breath through his teeth with a hiss.

But Harry wasn't finished, and he cut Snape off before the professor could say anything. "You have tormented me since the first day I came to this class," he said. "You never cared if I learned anything. I think Draco taught me more in one day than you ever have, and the sad thing is, I might have actually liked this subject, if someone had helped me understand it." He paused for a second, his eyes chips of emerald ice. "But you," he continued, a bitter edge to his voice, "all you've ever done is waste my time."

Snape sat down and said nothing. Harry stood for a moment, his hands clenching the straps of his bookbag, then he turned and started for the door.

"Potter!"

Harry froze halfway to the door, but he didn't turn around, just waited with his back to Snape. God, he was going to get detention for sure after that.

"Do you really care about him?"

That was so far from what Harry had expected, he turned around to stare at the professor.

Snape fixed him with a caustic gaze. "Because if you don't – if you hurt him – I swear I will make your life a living hell. Nothing I have done to you so far will even compare to what I will do to you if you hurt Draco Malfoy. That boy has been hurt enough. Why do you think I always stood up for him against you and the rest of those self-righteous, thoughtless Gryffindors you call friends? Do you have even the vaguest idea what he has been through?"

Harry's anger drained from him. He closed his eyes for a moment. Draco's avoidance of him this morning was becoming a deep pain in his heart. He wanted desperately to find him, and Snape's words had just stabbed him to the quick, but Harry knew he would never catch up to the other boy now. He opened his eyes and returned Snape's angry glare levelly. "Yes," he said as calmly as he could manage, "I do know what he's been through." Harry set his books down on one of the tables and walked back to stand in front of Snape's desk. "And I would sooner cut off my own arm than hurt him. I . . . " Oh, bloody hell. He'd been about to say, I'm falling in love with him. But there was no way he was going to tell that to Snape. "I'm . . . quite serious about this," he said instead, firmly. "I don't intend to stop seeing him – no matter what you say."