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Just One Last Chess Game

By Alison

D/C: I don't own anything except the plot. JK Rowling, Scholastic, and people who are luckier than me own them.

~*~*~

I still can't believe it happened.

Even now, at his funeral, I still can't believe he's dead. I don't want to believe it. I want him to come back and say hi to me with that grin on his face, that grin that he always seemed to have on. The grin that always made me go weak at the knees whenever it was pointed at my direction.

One day he was there, smiling and laughing happily, then the next day he's lying there in a coffin. Everyone's standing around, huddled in a circle around his coffin. A big black crying mass of people. I look over at his mother, who will probably never be the same. She hadn't stopped crying since she found out the news. I can't blame her. I hadn't eaten properly ever since…it happened.

I had never told him I loved him. I never told him that I wanted him to kiss me and hold me at night. I never told him how my heart reached out to him when he was sad, and how badly I wanted to comfort him. I never told him how it was him I wanted to be with at the Yule Ball. I never told him that it was him I stayed up and thought about at night, that it was him I dreamed about. I never told him that it was him I wanted to marry, to spend the rest of my life with.

As I drove away from his burial, I thought about our times together. I treasured every moment with him. I loved him. Why didn't I ever tell him? Why didn't I ever tell him I loved him? Why did I have to keep on waiting, thinking I could always tell him tomorrow? What if he felt the same way? We could've had such a happy life together.

But thanks to Voldemort, that will never happen. Thanks to him, I'll never be able to kiss him, to tell him how much he means to me. An uncontrollable anger came over me when I heard the news. I wanted to kill Voldemort, to revenge his death. But I couldn't do that. I was only a seventh year witch, I wasn't nearly experienced enough. The headmaster of the school that I was now walking up the steps on killed him, nearly killing himself in the process.

I walked up the stairs to his old dormitory. Nothing had been moved on his side of the room yet. His family hadn't come to pick up his things yet. But now I went over to his things and pulled out one of his most treasured possessions, his chess board. A layer of dust had settled on it from lack of use. So many memories had just erupted in my mind. I loved his face when he was looking for a move to make. A look of concentration and determination.

Everything in the world seemed to go away as we were playing. Everything that was happening around us dissolved into a big blur. He always won, but I loved playing against him. That was our thing that only we shared, nobody else ever played chess with him. He would come up to me whenever one of us was feeling bad, and asked if I wanted to be beaten again. I always agreed. He always knew exactly how to cheer me up. All my worries went away while we played. I always cherished our chess games.

What I wouldn't give to play just one more chess game. Just to see his face whenever he won. To hear his chess players laughing at me whenever I made a stupid move. To hear him tell me hints on how to dodge a move on a rook taking a pawn. To see him frown in concentration. I would give anything to spend the time with him for just one game.

There were times when I couldn't imagine life without him. But now I have to live life without him. I don't know how I'll pull through it, but I will somehow.

Maybe not today.

Maybe not tomorrow.

Maybe not ten years from now.

But I will.

Someday.

FIN

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