Methods Beyond Magic

Everything I Know In Life I Learned From a Pawn

"Alright, your move first." John decided, laying down and leaning on his elbows, looking like a teenage girl for some reason. But his big doe eyes stared up at Sherlock so innocently and so, well, beautifully, that Sherlock had a little bit of trouble deciding which piece to move first. So he slid a pawn out, a safe first move to get the ball rolling.
"Now what was that, you're going to get him killed, that bishop looks mean!" yelled another one of the pawns, and Sherlock just rolled his eyes. John moved out his pawn as well, and a cry of protest rang out from his side of the board.
"These things really are annoying." John agreed as they shouted abuse.
"Oh just you wait until some of them get killed, I've had pieces actually cry on me." Sherlock laughed. John rolled his eyes, but the game continued. Sherlock was having a rather hard time with concentrating, not just because of John's sudden good looks, but every time he closed his eyes or let his mind wander, he saw Victor in his head, his hopeful glares, his electric blue eyes, "It's a drug, and I need the proper fix", stepping so close...
"What do you think you're doing? He's faking you out, don't fall for something so obvious!" yelled the rook as Sherlock moved his pawn a little bit too close to John's queen.
"Shut up, you're a piece of stone." Sherlock snapped.
"Your head is not in the game Sherlock." John decided as he moved his knight to take one of Sherlock's bishops. He rolled his eyes, groaning a little bit and repositioning his legs to ensure blood flow.
"I'm sorry; it's just...current events I suppose." Sherlock muttered, moving his knight.
"You're an idiot, you're going to get yourself in big trouble!" the knight debated. Sherlock sighed, wasn't that the truth?
"Listen to the stone." John laughed, moving his piece to a very discreet location. Obviously he was setting up for an ambush, because his pieces were moving around excitedly, the pawns sharpening their swords and the queen looking extremely happy. Sherlock moved his king a space to the left, out of harm's way behind a pawn.
"You can't hide forever; it'll come back and bite you! You've got to go with your gut, go with what's right in front of you!" the pawn debated. Sherlock looked up at was right in front of him, John, studying the chess board with deep concentration, his eyebrow creased again and his eyes squinted. You can't hide forever...these chess pieces seemed to know a little bit too much about Sherlock's personal life. But was he hiding from Victor, was he hiding what Victor had done, or was he hiding his feelings for Victor? Preposterous, these little hunks of enchanted rocks knew nothing; he was hiding his king, that was all.
"Ooh, here we go." John laughed, moving his bishop on the same space as Sherlock's knight. The two dueled it out, but eventually the knight crumbled under the bishop's staff, moving to the side of the board in pieces.
"Violent." Sherlock muttered.
"Necessary." John shrugged, and Sherlock smiled discreetly, looking up in John's very excited face.
"Just go for it, do what you must!" his destroyed knight muttered, and Sherlock shook his head slightly, focusing more on the game than the player opposite.
"Come on Sherlock, focus, I want your best game." John insisted. Sherlock just laughed, moving his pawn to get within attaching range of John's queen. Of course, it was bait, because as soon as the queen would move to take on the pawn, Sherlock's bishop would be waiting to strike.
"Make the right choice here; you never know what could happen along the road." One of John's pieces muttered to him. Sherlock groaned, sometimes the talking pieces were helpful, other times they were just really big snitches, and not the type that gets you points in quidditch.
"Ah, Sherlock you think I'm that dumb? I may not be able to do magic, but I can see a trap. Then again, obviously I'm the only one. Check." John decided, moving his rook to a position where Sherlock's king was vulnerable. Unfortunately, if the pawn went to attack it then Sherlock's king would be wide open, exposed to all of the hateful forces of John's pieces.
"Oh dear..." Sherlock muttered, his eyes scanning for a way to help himself. He settled for moving his kind a space out of the way, but it only took the last of John's knights and that same bloody rook to get the poor guy in check mate. At that, all of Sherlock's pieces threw big tantrums, throwing their weapons on the board and yelling at him to do a rematch, that he sucked at chess, and that obviously John had cheated somehow. Sherlock ignored them, smiling innocently at John.
"Well, I guess you won." He decided, putting all of the pieces back into the bags so that they'd shut up.
"I think you weren't all here, your mind is wandering." John decided.
"How could you tell?" Sherlock muttered.
"Your eyes glass over, and you missed the most obvious of tricks." John pointed out.
"Guilty." Sherlock agreed.
"What's wrong, I mean, I assume if everything was alright with you and Victor you would be with him now, and not just longingly staring at his scarf." John guessed.
"We're fine, I mean, he's fine. He's got homework, that's all, and I've got papers as well." Sherlock admitted.
"As you sit on the floor and play chess." John pointed out.
"Well, I didn't say I was doing anything about those papers, I've got them." Sherlock shrugged.
"As the care taker my work never ends. Honestly I doubt Filch had any time to play chess, and I doubt I do as well. But here I am." John shrugged.
"Here you are." Sherlock agreed with a smile.
"Then again, that crusty old man probably didn't have anyone to play chess with." He shrugged.
"Filch was a squib too, now that I think about it. He just wasn't as accepting as you were, he didn't live with himself." Sherlock decided.
"How do you know that?" John asked.
"I heard him whining to Nearly Headless Nick one night, after hours of course, so I suppose he didn't expect a student to be listening." Sherlock shrugged.
"I guess it's kind of a squib's job then." John decided.
"Nothing wrong with that. As you said, methods beyond magic are more efficient." Sherlock pointed out.
"I just say that to make myself feel better." John laughed. Sherlock took out his wand, examining the engraved wood for a moment before looking up at John.
"Do you have a wand?" he asked.
"Ya, but to me it's nothing more special than a spare piece of timber." John sighed. Sherlock held out his wand to John, who looked at him a bit apprehensively.
"Here, take it, see if you can do something." Sherlock insisted.
"Sherlock, I don't even know any spells, I'm a squib, nothing will happen anyway." John pointed out.
"Take it." Sherlock insisted. John rolled his eyes, but took the wand gently from Sherlock's hands, as if worried it was going to explode or something. He traced his fingertips gently over the engravings on the handle, over the smooth wood at the top.
"It's beautiful." He decided.
"It's alder wood, with a unicorn hair in the core." Sherlock agreed.
"That means nothing to me." John muttered with a guilty laugh.
"Wave it, see if anything happens." Sherlock suggested. John shook his head.
"I don't want you to see me fail." He defended.
"But what if you don't fail?" Sherlock insisted, his eyes alight with hope.
"Sherlock, I'm not sure you know what a squib is. I can't do anything, I'm as useless as a muggle, I have less magical talent than the giant squid! I'm not going to embarrass myself for your amusement!" John insisted, throwing the wand back to Sherlock and getting to his feet. Sherlock rose to his feet as well, suddenly afraid that he had hurt John in some way.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to strike a nerve, I just thought..." he started.
"Well, you thought wrong." John snapped. Sherlock frowned; he couldn't let John leave him, not when he and Victor were no longer on speaking terms.
"Don't go, please, I don't want you to leave." Sherlock insisted.
"I'm not leaving." John admitted, sitting on Sherlock's desk and looking sadly down to the ground. Sherlock didn't know what to do, but he left the wand on the floor, not sure if it would be rude to pick it up or not. So he went over and sat next to John, tapping his feet awkwardly on the stone floor. The dreary, cloudy sunlight came in through the window, making the room seem very dull and gray and slightly depressing.
"You're not a freak John, speaking as the ultimate freak, you're nothing close to me. You're funny, you're likable, you're attractive, you seem to have your head on straight, you may not be able to cast a spell, but you're still not as much of a screw up as I am." Sherlock insisted. John shook his head slightly, but didn't seem to be able to talk immediately.
"Well, I guess we're both freaks then. And then there's Victor." John sighed.
"And then there's Victor." Sherlock agreed, not really knowing what to say to that.
"That match, seeing him play, seeing you cheer for him, I think I now know why you don't want me hanging around that much." John said with a sad little laugh.
"Of course I want you around John, why wouldn't I?" Sherlock assured, feeling the need to give John a hug, or even to hold his hand.
"Because you love him." John said weakly, his voice cracking a little bit. "And I hate to think that."
"No, no John, I don't love him at all." Sherlock assured.
"Yes you do! I've seen the way you look at him, I've seen the way he looks at you, I mean, I may be a squib, but I'm not an idiot, the way you watch each other in the Great Hall, it's obvious actually. And if you like him, you can't possibly like me, because we're total opposites." John pointed out.
"I don't love him John, he's a student, I'm a professor, that's just wrong." Sherlock insisted.
"Yes, but he's human. Sherlock, your only defense is that you two have different roles, but in one year he won't be a student anymore, will he, and then you'll get a smack in the face by reality when you finally realize that he's available to you, and you'll go running to him, and forget all about me." John muttered. Sherlock might be hallucinating, but he thought he saw a tear run down his face, silhouetted by the sunlight poking through the clouds. "And you're my only friend, the only person in the wizarding world that treats me like an equal, and to see you go would be..." John didn't seem to be able to finish his sentence. Sherlock couldn't take this anymore, he couldn't take this absolute sadness, he could feel John's weak heart ripping in two beside him. He reached out and grabbed one of John's surprisingly smooth hands, holding it in both of his own and looking John straight in the eye. Indeed there were tears forming in the hazel, brimming over his eyelid and sliding slowly down his cheek.
"I'm not going to leave you John, I wouldn't dream of it. You're never going to be replaced by Victor, you never were going to be, you'll always be first." Sherlock insisted. "I will not go anywhere if I know you're not following." John took a sharp, rattling breath and threw his arms around Sherlock's neck, holding him close and shaking a little bit. Obviously he had nothing more to say, which was good because if this went on any longer Sherlock would be in tears as well. Sherlock held John to him, letting the caretaker rest his head on his shoulder, letting his tears fall onto his robes, patting him on the back and muttering to him that it would okay. After a while, John pulled away, wiping his eyes and smiling a bit guiltily.
"Sorry." He muttered awkwardly, looking at the floor.
"It's fine, we all need a good cry once and a while." Sherlock assured, still wanting to hold John's hand once more.
"No, I'm being a baby; I'm coming to you with all of my childish problems." John muttered.
"They're not childish, they're perfectly reasonable, and I envy you for being so open about them. My method is to coop everything up inside, and never let anyone in, never let anyone know." Sherlock admitted.
"Well, I'm here if you need me." John shrugged.
"I assure you, if I ever need to open up; you'll be the first one I'll go to." Sherlock assured.
"Are you really, I mean, are you facing anything bad right now?" John asked unsurely.
"Yes, but I'd rather not go into that. You don't need to hear me whine." Sherlock laughed.
"No, I mean, it would make all this a little bit less awkward, for me at least." John admitted.
"What, you don't often hug and cry with people?" Sherlock asked.
"Shockingly no." John agreed.
"Everyone thinks that's such a feminine thing to do, snuggle and cuddle and cry, but I rather think it's something men should get used to. It's surprisingly therapeutic." Sherlock decided.
"I'm always down for a nice cuddle. Sometimes a teddy bear just isn't enough." John laughed.
"How very masculine of you." Sherlock agreed. "But I will take you up on that offer."
"Alright then, come here you." John shrugged, holding out his arms.
"Not right now, later, we already had our cuddling time. It's nearly time to eat." Sherlock insisted. John dropped his arms rather disappointedly, but checked his watch.
"Ya, I should probably get down, make sure there's no food fights going on down there." He agreed.
"I don't think they're that stupid." Sherlock laughed.
"No, probably not. You coming?" John asked.
"Ya, I'll come, I skipped lunch." Sherlock admitted.
"Why'd you do that?" John asked with a laugh, getting to his feet and wiping his eyes once more.
"Wasn't particularly hungry, I am now though." Sherlock agreed, standing up as well and fluffing up his curls again.
"Well, sorry again, I guess, for being such a baby." John decided.
"Don't apologize, you're adorable." Sherlock insisted.
"Don't call me adorable, I can and will rip your head off." John defended. Sherlock just rolled his eyes, picking up his discarded wand and leading the way out the door. When they got down to the Great Hall, the first thing Sherlock noticed was about the last thing he wanted to see. Victor was sitting at the Slytherin table, staring rather blankly at a piece of meatloaf on his plate. He looked about as tear streaked and red as John had, but this time it was like a knife to the heart for Sherlock, knowing that he had been the one that caused Victor's pain. When he walked in, Victor lifted his head and stiffened up, watching Sherlock pass rather suspiciously, as if expecting him to throw curses at him or reject him very loudly, in front of the entire student body. Instead, Sherlock just dropped his head and watched the floor as he walked, as if Victor wasn't even there. Maybe not the best plan, but then again, it seemed to work for the time being.
"See you later I suppose." John shrugged.
"Yes, I suppose." Sherlock agreed, and with that as their goodbyes they went to their separate ends of the table, Sherlock settling between Snape and Sprout once more. Snape was looking rather pleased, probably still about Slytherin's victory, while Sprout looked a little bit moody, dumping mashed potatoes onto her plate without any acknowledgement that she had seen Sherlock sit down at all. He was fine with that, as long as Snape didn't start up boasting again he would be fine, so he settled down with some pork chops and corn, eating quickly and feeling a pair of sad blue eyes watching him from the Slytherin table. Occasionally Sherlock would look up, finding Victor in the crowd, but by that time the boy's gaze would be fixed once more on his plate, not eating, just staring in sadness, as if Sherlock was personally responsible for tearing his entire world down. Then again, Sherlock couldn't see how Victor could have gotten so hopeful, he was a professor, obviously the boy could've realized that it was never going to work out. But then again, John had said that he saw the way Sherlock had looked at him, the thing is, Sherlock couldn't even figure out how he looked at Victor. Was there some sort of longing, some sort of love in his eyes he wasn't aware of? Did his unconscious mind actually feel something that Sherlock didn't know about? Or was John just trying to discreetly figure out what was going on between the two of them? If he was, it was a perfect cover, pretending to break down in tears at the thought of Sherlock having feelings for Victor, how he would always be second. But wait, if John was sad that Sherlock had 'feelings' for Victor did that mean John had feelings for Sherlock? This took Sherlock by so much surprise that he lunged at the table to look down to where John sat, ramming the bottom of his rib cage into the solid wood.
"Watch it Holmes." Snape snapped, steadying his goblet as the table shook. But Sherlock ignored him, his eyes straining to see John, who was chatting with Flitwick and eating his way through a mashed potato. Was it possible that he liked Sherlock; did he too want to be 'loved as he loved'? Impossible, of course, Sherlock could barely wrap his mind around one person finding him desirable, much less two? What was it about being a professor that suddenly made everyone fancy you? Sherlock was never noticed when he was a student, but now he was the most eligible bachelor in the school! It was just so, odd. So, when Sherlock was finished with his meal, he walked up the stairs to his room, passing Victor on the way out but not saying anything to him. His classroom was dark, as was his office and his bedroom, but he only bothered to light one torch in his room, sitting on his desk and reading a little bit, refreshing his knowledge on banshees for the next lesson with the older kids. That meant the younger ones are going to learn the disarming spell, to learn how to defend themselves just a little bit better. Finally, when his eyelids were growing heavy, he set down the book and settled into bed, flicking his wand at the torch and dissolving into a peaceful night sleep.