Spell Master

Author: Babychan

email: baby_chan1778@yahoo.com or babychan1778@yahoo.com

Title: Spell Master

Rating: R but it will become NC17 later

Series: Yes. Chapter 31/?

Parings: H/D S/N/L N/B

Summary: The wizarding world is going to find out that Harry Potter is not the only one with awesome powers. It’s a Pro-Slytherin and Pro-Draco fic. This is slash fiction. This is also the re-edited version.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters do NOT belong to me :( (pout) I’m just writing for the fun of it. I get no money for it whatsoever.

Spell Master


“Draco Malfoy has just been disqualified from playing Quidditch!”

The grand shock of that statement made the whole Hall completely silent. So quiet in fact, one could hear a quill drop. Which they did. It belonged to someone from Ravenclaw who was working on some extra credit.

With wide eyes, Slivanius Skeeter looked around the room. He was confused to why no one reacted. This was monumental news. “Did you hear what I just said?” He yelled again .“Draco Malfoy has just been disqualified from playing Quidditch!”

It was then, when the Gryffindor table whooped and hollered out their cheer.

Slytherins stood up and raged. They looked angry enough to start another House War.

Hufflepuffs cheered too. But then quickly shut up once they noticed how furious the Slytherins were.

And Ravenclaw was wise enough to keep quite.

Harry’s attention quickly shifted toward the Head Table. He noticed Snape glare at Lupin. He other man just smiled, happily, as he put his hands up in defense, and shook his head.

“Please… tell me you didn’t.” McGonagall pleaded in distress as she shifted, in her seat, toward the DADA professor.

“I didn’t.” Lupin assured as he smiled at the elderly witch and patted the hand which now clutched his tattered robe.

“Thank goodness.” She sighed as she placed her other hand over her heart.

“The credit belongs to Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley.” Remus admitted in a chuckle.

Minnerva gave a weary moan of anguish then glared at her former student. “I can’t believe that you *knew* what they were going to do, before hand…” She eyed the irate crowd before them warily, then continued “And yet, you still felt no need to warn anyone?”

“What’s to warn?” Lupin replied confused. “They’re just kids.”

“Just kids?!” She shrilled, in a whisper, as she glowered at the man. She could not believe he just made that statement. He wasn’t there when they were attacked by fire pixies last year. He wasn’t one of the many who suffered with 1st, 2nd, and 3rd degree burns,–like she was– because the Slytherins felt that they had been wronged. Just kids her blooming arse.

The rest of the professors had their attention completely focused on the Slytherin table and, secretly, had their wands out, and ready, to stop any rabble rousing from disgruntled students.

Silivanius swiftly walked over toward the Slytherin table. He stood in front of the end of the table, closest to the first years, and where Harry was sitting. He quickly glanced at all of their eager, and irate, faces and once the little boy was sure that he had captured everyone’s attention, he cleared his throat and started telling the tale of what happened and the events which lead up to this decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8 minutes earlier.

“So we are all at agreement, then? The Unity House parties are a go. Any House who wants to invite members from other Houses has that option. However, the invites are invitation only. All agreed say Aye.”

Hermione was dismayed to see even the Gryffindors agree with Malfoy’s changes to her idea. In a way, she could understand their feelings about not wanting to party along side of Slytherins, but she felt that they still should have stood up for *her*. Moreover, she was trying to *unite* the Houses.

*All* of them.

Including Slytherin.

In their fifth year, the Sorting Hat sang a warning about a House divided cannot stand. So Hermione suggested this party to start mending the thousand year old rift. She warned, and reminded, all the prefects about that warning as she fought against Malfoy’s changes. But he twisted her words and her convictions. He manipulated their fear and made the prefects worry for the unity inside their *own* House. He brought up the turmoil of the Gryffindor House and how it got so bad that the *Headmaster*, thought it best to move *Harry Potter* and Neville Longbottom into *Slytherin*. He said other things too, but her blood was boiling and raging inside her ears, making it impossible for her hear him.

Well, she couldn’t hear him until the end and when everyone voted against her and for *him!*

“Then it’s agreed!” Malfoy concluded as he struck the gavel. “The House parties will be sponsored by each individual House. The day and locations will be decided at a later date, as well as any other technicalities. Suggestions are always welcomed.” He lied. Because Draco was mentally working everything out as he spoke to them. Well, at least for the Slytherin party.

There were numerous happy nods of agreement.

“Now, that we have concluded our itinerary, I have noticed this meeting has once *again* ran over the expected, and allotted time.” From the corner of his eyes, Draco gave Hermione an annoyed glare as he still faced the crowd.

There was a grumble of disconcertion from the prefects directed at Granger, but the Head Girl just threw back her shoulders and held her head up higher.

“So before we adjourn…” Malfoy continued. “Does any non-prefect have any concerns which they feel this council should address?” The question was half-hearted because Draco was hungry. He started his day about two hours earlier than everyone else and probably went to bed at least two hours later too.

“I have a concern.”

Everyone in the room turned toward the back of the Parliament, where guests were allowed to sit. There were a lot less people left than had arrived. The long drawn-out meeting usually weaned most people. Unfortunately, there were still a few stragglers. Three Gryffindor’s to be precise.

“Ah… Ronald Weasley, Asinus asinorum in saecula saeculorum.” Draco made a histrionically, grand, welcoming gesture with his hands. “Do you *really* have a concern or did you just miss the power of a prefect and come to do a little wistful hashing on your old glory days?”

“Malfoy!” Granger shrilled. “That was completely uncalled for!”

Draco ignored her as he waited smugly for the other boy’s reply.

The red-haired boy glowered at the Head Boy, and his hand –the one not holding the book– balled into a tight fist. “Believe it or not, Malfoy, I don’t miss being a prefect.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe it.” The blond smiled out charmingly as he leaned back, comfortably, into his large and ornate Head Boy chair. “What can I do for you today?”

Ron didn’t miss that Draco stressed the word *I* as if he were the only one with the power to address his concern. As if *half* the power of Head Person didn’t belong to Hermione.

Even though, by this meeting, Hermione’s standing looked to be on shaky ground.

That was why the youngest male Weasley was very glad to be the person to knock that bastard off of his high horse. Very glad indeed.

With an arrogant swagger, Ron took his time as he walked toward the Podium of Acknowledgement. He then placed the book on it, opened it to the bookmarked page, and unrolled a scroll. He cleared his throat and began. “First, I would like to thank the members of Parliament for taking the time to listen to my grievance. I would also like to say that I bring this to you, not in vengeful anger or any type of retaliation. It is an honest concern, about an unfair injustice. As Prefects, you all know that Hogwarts has rules. Rules for students. Rules for teachers. And rules for—”

“Are you going to get to the point anytime this century?” Malfoy drawled unimpressed, but clearly irritated. “Some of us would like to get a bite to eat before class starts.”

There was a low and angry mumble of agreement around the massive room.

At this, the red-haired boy lost some of his bravado. But that was okay; he mentally reminded himself. He still had the upper hand. Ron looked back at the book, and at the speech Hermione had prepared for him, and began again. “…Um… These rules were created not only to protect us, but also to promote, and ensure, equality and fairness. And in the spirit of fairness, certain people in particular positions are disqualified in participating in certain events because of not only their extraordinary abilities but their status as well—”

“Is there a point to this?” Pansy huffed in a rude drawl.

Ron turned to glare at her, only to find that *everyone*, even the Hufflepuffs had the same impatient expression. He then looked back at Hermione’s two foot speech and… decided that a grand speech wouldn’t be to his benefit. So he decided to just get to the point.

“Professor Malfoy.” Ron said through grit teeth, because he *HATED* giving Draco that respect. “Because you are a teacher at Hogwarts, and by rule 84629GF you are unable to participate, as an actual player, in certain extracurricular activities such at Quidditch, which are limited, and restricted, to students.”

“What!” Blaise yelled as he stood up. “That is complete bullshit!” All of the other Slytherin prefects started voicing their opposition as well.

Draco made a calming gesture with his hand. “Mister Weasley.” Draco said with an auspiciously false smile. “Unlike *you*, I actually read the Hogwarts: A History. And yes, I already know of that rule. However, I am going to have to inform you that you were misled, and mistaken because, even though I have taken and *overwhelmingly* passed all of my NEWTS,” He gave Granger a superior smirk. “I am, unfortunately, still a student, here. And merely an assistant to Professor Snape. I teach for credits. Therefore, my status is excluded under the unwritten loophole.”

Ron quickly looked at the rule which was highlighted close to the bottom of the scroll then back toward Draco. A sense of dread was coming over him. He did not come here to be made a fool out of. And that was exactly what happened.

“But you also get paid.” Hermione quickly interjected after she saw the hopelessness on her boyfriend’s face. However, because of her response, it thus revealed her role in this insidious plot against the young Malfoy.

But she didn’t care.

“And by rule 15683BiGH” She continued. “The fact that you are on the Hogwarts’ Payroll, that makes you a teacher. Assistant or not. You’re *not* allowed to play. You are employed with a position which grants you the authority, and influence, over the participants in Quidditch. Just by you playing, you can obstruct, and or, hinder the fair conduct of the students, *your* students, who play on the opposing teams—”

“Excuse me?” Malfoy asked as he shifted towards Granger. His tone was clearly offended. “Are you suggesting that I’m blackmailing my students to—”

“Of course not!” She interrupted haughtily. However, the accusation was clearly in her tone. “What I am saying is that these things happen. And probably *will* happen even without your interference. Therefore, to protect the rights of the students *and* the integrity of the game, and because of the rule 15683BiGH you *must* forfeit your position as seeker.” She crossed her arms and gave him a superior look. Challenging for him to rebuttal.

Instead, he sat back into his seat, smiled darkly and gave her an elegant clap of his hands. “Bravo, Ms. Granger. Bravo. Your pettiness has yet to let me down.”
.
She became rigid with indignation. “I’ll have you know that I was not being petty, I was—”

“I was wondering when you’d find that loophole.” He interrupted just barely containing his anger.

“Well, if you had already known about it, why didn’t you step down?” She asked bossily.

“Because it’s an *ancient,* ruling and it doesn’t really apply to my case!” Malfoy hissed.

“I beg to differ.” She countered.

“I’m sure you do.” He replied contemptuously. “Though it is unfortunate for *you* Ms Granger that it only pertains to sports. I’m soooo absolutely certain that you would have *loved* for me to have to relinquish *all* of my other positions.” He made a sweeping gesture to where he sat. As Head Boy.

“I-I-I” She sputtered. Her face turned red with righteous anger. “This is *not* about revenge, Malfoy!” She spat out unconvincingly. “This is about fairness. And it is *unfair* for a teacher to play in a student’s sport!”

“Riiiight.” Draco drawled as he pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.

When a grumble of discontent and agreement with Malfoy’s insinuations was heard coming from every House except Gryffindor, Ron yelled. “This wasn’t Hermione’s idea! It was mine! All Mine!” He looked around and glared at anyone who murmured otherwise. He then glowered at Malfoy. “So stop trying to make her look bad!”

“She doesn’t *need* Malfoy to do that for her, She’s done it herself.” Was a snide comment. When Hermione glanced to see who had said that, she was shocked to see that it was Luna Lovegood.

“Weasel.” Draco scorned. “I’d sooner believe that Granger was a pureblood, before I was convinced that *you* actually read Hogwarts:A history.” He turned towards Hermione. “As for this not being about revenge… Perhaps, I would have believed you if you would have brought this to our attention *weeks* ago and not two days before the Slytherin/Gryffindor match.” He then turned towards the youngest Weasley. “Ginerva, you must be proud to know that your brother and future sister-in-law have so little faith in your abilities, as seeker, to pull a stunt like this.”

When the three started to protest, Draco slammed the gavel down. Hard. And yelled “Meeting’s adjourned!” When no one made a move to leave, he gripped the arms of his grand chair and yelled “Get OUT!” furiously, and imperiously.

That made them –even the Gryffindors–scramble like ants, tripping over chairs and each other so they would not find themselves the recipient of Malfoy’s displaced anger and legendary wrath.

~~~~~~

“And that’s what happened!” The junior reporter wheezed out. He had practically told the whole story in one breath. Trying to get the exclusive out before anyone else made it to the Great Hall.

“I can’t believe those no good, low down, dirty Gryffindor SCUM!”

Harry looked up and at the girl who shrilled this. She was possibly a 3rd year Slytheirn. She was blue in the face with anger.

By this time, the prefects started to arrive. Some –Slytherins of course– looked angrier than others. However, once they walked into the Great Hall, they all stormed towards the Head Table and started pleading their case. The next second, almost everyone at the Slytherin table rushed towards the Head Table, yelling out their anger at the obvious injustice as well.

Harry was surprised to find that *he* was one of them too. Well, not really. I mean, he wasn’t one of the furious serpents. He was just at the Head Table because he was being dragged, by Neville, who *was* one of the near-rioters. As Harry looked around, he was surprised when prefects from other Houses started yelling out their indignation at Malfoy’s removal. He was also surprised to see other students from other Houses gathering around the Head table as well. But those students mostly just looked interested in the turn of events.

“I bet you Dumbledork is behind this.”

Harry knew that voice and shifted his attention behind him. It belonged to the ever silent Vincent Crabbe. He had almost forgotten the boy could speak. And what a deep voice he had too. It was like thunder.

“You’re right!” Millicent agreed angrily. “He’s always going out of his way to steal our victories!” She pushed her way closer toward the Head Table and growled “I swear, I hope he is the first to fall when the time comes.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her, for he knew what she was insinuating.

“I’m going to write my father!” Someone yelled. Then about four dozen others agreed to do the same.

“Childern Childern…” Dumbledore tried to soothe as he walked into the Great Hall. The old wizard had a shocked expression on his face as he made pacifying gestures with his hands, and tried to shoo them back to their seats. “What is a matter? The food not to your liking?” He smiled out kindly with a twinkle in his eyes. He had no idea what a mess he just, unwittingly, walked in on. From the doorway, he glanced at the Head Table and noticed how the other teachers were trying to appear calm. But he could tell that they had their wands ready for any retaliation.

“This isn’t fair! We won’t let you get away with this!” A first year cried as everyone turned to face the old man. She then said to an older Slytherin beside her. “We can’t let him get away with this! I refuse to spend the next seven years of my life abused!”

“What’s this all about?” Dumbledore gently asked again. “What’s gotten you so upset?” He was oblivious to the turn of events. He was running late for breakfast because he was in a meeting with a parent who felt the need to tell him *everything* they felt he was doing wrong.

“As if you don’t know!” Someone spat out.

“I don’t.” He replied honestly.

“We won’t let you get away with this!” Another yelled “My father will have your job for this. He’s on the School Board you know!”

Blue eyes cut through the crowd and at the child who spoke. “Yes, Thurston Willoboughy I know who your father is.” He had just left a meeting with him. The Arsehole.

“I’m writing him!” The boy informed as he jutted out his chin. He was not afraid of Dumbledore, his father told him all about him, and his poor upbringing.

“You do that.” Dumbledore replied patronizingly and without fear, thus making the boy sniff and stomp his designer shoe clad foot. Dumbledore inwardly groaned. Merlin knew how he hated the spoiled, little hellions who always seemed to like to throw their non-existent weight around. “Now would someone, kindly, tell me what I am being accused of doing, *this* time?” He glanced over at Lupin who seemed extremely amused by the spectacle before him.

“I think it may have something to do with Quidditch.” The werewolf volunteered with a shrug, but he couldn’t stop smiling, for he knew, for a fact, that it *did* have something to do with Quidditch.

“Please! Everyone... Go back to your seats!” Dumbledore urged. “Let us discuss this situation calmly.”

“Why? So you can explain to us why *you* sabotaged a Slytherin victory once, again!” Someone screamed.

There were yells of agreement, threats, and hostile accusations concerning Dumbledore’s favoritism toward Gryffindors. Even some veiled threats to kill the old man.

But before the Headmaster could even comment, the boisterous voice of Snape cut through all the commotion.

“Go back to your seats. Right. Now!”

Immediately, everyone stopped their discourse and stared at the man in black.

“But you don’t know—” A first year started to whine, but was stopped when a 3rd year clamped her hand over his mouth and led the reluctant boy to the table.

Snape had a way –probably because of his vampire linage– of looking positively, and deliciously evil. Especially when he was angry. Like now. He had an aura which made one want to run away, run far, and run quickly, instead of challenging him. You either loved/feared him or hated/respected him. Most Slytherins could never decide on how they felt about their Head. Nonetheless, they never challenged his word once he had given his command.

Snape was now standing, and shrouded, in a dark cloud of aristocratic fury. His confusion –at what was going on– was masked by his scowl of disdain for their actions. Nevertheless, all the students started making their way toward the Slytherin table. Even the students who didn’t belong to that particular House.

Silently, Dumbledore watched all of those spoiled purebloods cower in the presence of Snape, and he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or jealous at their obvious respect for the raven-haired man. They certainly had never given *him* that kind of respect.

Once everyone was seated, Snape regally stood at the Head Table and derided. “Would anyone like to tell me what is going on?” Unfortunately, he didn’t really know all the details. Besides the first statement Slivanius yelled out, the professors, at the Head Table, couldn’t hear Skeeter’s tale.

At that EVERYONE started talking at once.

Like a king in front of his subjects, Snape put his hand up to cease them from talking. He then pointed toward a 6th year boy, named Kristoph.

“Tell me. What happened?”

The boy pointed angrily at Dumbledore. “He’s done it again.” He gave an accusatory glare toward the old man. “He’s trying to sabotage our chances at getting the Quidditch Cup! He’s called up some ancient rule and disqualified Malfoy from being Seeker. “

Snape’s gaze snapped toward the Head Master in unabashed fury.

Blue eyes widened behind crescent shaped glasses. “I did no such thing!” And that was the honest to God truth. After he had hired Draco, he had actually *ignored* that rule on *purpose*. Moreover, the reason why Draco was even on the Hogwarts payroll was because of the Malfoys and their insistence that the boy be paid for his duties. And paid well at that! Snape knew this. He was there! But now Snape didn’t look as if he believed this reason to be true. He looked as if he no longer trusted the reason Albus acquiesced to Lucius’s request, of Draco having a salary. Severus looked like he was starting to believe tgat Dumbledore agreed to pay his stepson because the old man *knew* this would happen. That Draco would be kicked off the team because of it.

In fact, the more Dumbledore stared at the raven-haired man, the more it looked as if Snape might *lead* the next revolt.

Luckily for the elderly wizard, the young Malfoy chose that exact moment to saunter though the grand double doors. The teen had what looked like a violin case in his hand. Except, the case was longer, much longer, and thinner.

Snape’s gaze shifted away from the Head Master and toward his stepson. He quirked an eyebrow once he noticed what Draco had in his hand. He knew what it was, but he didn’t say a word. Draco gave him a cocky wink, and immediately Severus knew that Draco had a plan to remedy this situation.

Draco paused and looked around the Great Hall. It looked as if everyone was standing on a knife’s edge of chaos. “So I’m assuming you’ve all heard?” He drawled bitterly and side stepped the Head Master. He didn’t even give Dumbledore a cursory glance as he sauntered toward the Slytherin table.

There were nods and voices of anger, at the injustice of it all. Draco allowed them to speak their vexation for a moment then held up his hand – like Snape had done earlier– and stopped the commotion.

“Don’t worry.” Someone encouraged. “We’re all going to write our fathers and—”

“What’s done is done.” Draco interrupted somberly with a shake of his head. “I know what Weasley and Granger plotted seems…. unjust and cruel, And it is.” He added, because he honestly believed it to be so. “Nevertheless, it is true. I *am* disqualified from the sport and thus, I can no longer be your seeker.”

“What?!” Everyone at the table yelled. Even the non-Slytherins. No one expected for Malfoy to give up. Not so easily. And not without a fight.

The Gyffindors, who wisely, went back to their own table, whoop and cheered at Malfoy’s misfortune. It was about time, many agreed and dared to say.

“But you’re also team captain!” Someone from the Quidditch team reminded hysterically. “Does that mean you can’t do that either? What are we going to do….We’ve worked so hard…. *You’ve* worked so hard!”

Draco nodded sagely at the truth of what the other boy said. “Yes, I know… but I can no longer be that either.”

That created an even greater uproar at the table. “This was totally unfair.” They kept saying.

And now that Draco was actually giving up his coveted positions., well, it started to really piss him off. He DID work hard. He had *earned* his rank of Seeker and Team Captain. And it wasn’t fair that he had to just Give It Up! No, he didn’t give it up. It was *stolen* from him.

Stolen by that mudblood bitch!

Draco decided then and there, that Granger would be the first to fall by his hand when the time came.

Because besides the Slytherins, who knew the truth, most people thought Draco bought his position as Seeker. But that was never the case. He worked his arse off. He *deserved* his spot on the team. Victory by any means, was a Slytherin motto. Even if that meant working yourself practically to death. Which he did.

“Then what are we going to do?!” A first year cried. Literally, cried out. “How are we supposed to win the Quidditch Cup without a Seeker?!” There were many voices of agreement.

“We’ll have to appoint a new seeker.” Malfoy replied wisely and with his trademark smirk. “I would have thought that option would haven been a given.” Though inwardly, he was pleased that they had so much faith in *him* that they couldn’t see any other option, or route toward victory which *didn’t* include him. Yes, he was very pleased indeed.

From the Head Table Lupin watched Malfoy with a distrustful eye. He wasn’t sure what the boy was up to, but he knew that he was up to something. Draco, who should have been extremely displeased at the moment, to say the least, was displaying the patience of Job and the understanding of Tutu. This was completely unlike the boy. Especially when a great injustice was inflicted on him. Which even Lupin had to agree that this time, it was. In Spite of this, the young Malfoy was acting off the script. Again. Instead of being the brat he was known and hated for, he was calm, and understanding. He expertly playing the part of the wronged, while subtlety planting the seed of hate toward those who wronged him. All in all, and in Remus’s opinion… Draco was acting like Lucius. The boy’s despicable, and conniving father.

Lupin scowled, and then looked at Snape. The raven-haired man had stepped away from the table, and had a, well, not a smile, but a pleased non-frown on his face as he stared at the boy. Lupin’s scowl deepened, for now knew for a *fact* that Draco was up to something. He just hoped that the young Malfoy hadn’t found a way to sabotage Gryffindor in retaliation.

After Draco spoke of a new seeker, everyone looked toward Pendleton Scroll. He was a third year, weird looking boy with reddish brown hair, and way too much acne to ever be considered cute. He was also the starting seeker on the Slytherin junior team. As for his skill as Seeker… Well, he was very good, in his own right, but no where as good a Draco.

“You’ve go to be kidding me.” Someone derided in a snort.

Malfoy glanced at who spoke. It was Audrey Brierburgh. A seventh year, and a chaser on his team. Draco understood the boy’s anger because like Audrey, he felt that it was truly *their* year. Their *last* year to beat Gryffindor and leave Hogwarts on top. Unfortunately, Scroll was no where near good enough to ensure that. That was why he had to make sure his plan worked.

“Of course…” Malfoy continued in a drawl. “We’ll have to have tryouts to find my replacements. No one is just *guaranteed* my position.”

“But I can do it!” Scroll contested as he stood up. Sure, he was sad about Malfoy. Well, sort of. Nevertheless, this was finally his moment to shine, and he wanted it dammit! “I’ve been practicing all summer with you guys!” He gave everyone a pleading look. “I can do it! You know I can!”

No one verbally agreed.

“Yes, but still…I want this to be fair.” Draco lied diplomatically as he made an obvious scan of the table and found the person he was looking for. The*only* person Draco considered good enough to replace him. And it was just a bonus that this person was also the ultimate revenge for those Gryffindor fuckers.

Harry was too shocked, by the whole episode, to notice Draco’s gaze. He could barely believe what he just heard. Draco was kicked off the Quidditch team! And he hadn’t even done anything to deserve it. He just became a teacher. It was unreal. And unfair! Harry didn’t have to imagine the anger which must be surging through Malfoy right now. He had felt it himself when Dumbledore forced him to switch Houses. He lost everything then. Sure, he had no friends in Gryffindor before the move, but he had Quidditch. Because no matter how horrible the lions were to him, no matter how much they hated him, they still wanted Harry to be their Seeker. They still needed Potter to ensure their victory over the other Houses. Especially Slytherin. And especially Malfoy. And it was only during those times, when he played Quidditch, did Harry feel sort of like he belonged… happy….And free.

But now, because of Dumbledore, he didn’t even have that anymore.

Harry was so lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t realize that Malfoy had moved and was now standing behind him. “Thinking about trying out, Potter?” Was the arrogant drawl, and though Malfoy tried to mask it, his statement sounded a bit bitter. It was hard for him to give up something he wanted. Something he had worked so hard to *earn.*

Startled out of his own thoughts, Harry slowly turned in his seat, to face Malfoy, and replied with an honest “No.” Because he wasn’t thinking about trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team. He was actually thinking about Draco and identifying with how awful the boy must feel right now. Not that Harry would ever admit that, mind you.

The former-Seeker didn’t look as if he believed him. “That’s strange. I would have thought *you*, of all people, would be the first to leap at the chance to play Seeker again.”

Harry gave him a dumbfounded looked. So used to being ignored and shunned, he was shocked that he was even *considered* to play on the Slytherin team. He would have thought the “not a chance in Hell” would have been a given.

“It’s probably because he no longer has a broom.” Neville quickly supplied, He had mistakenly taken Harry’s bowled over expression as a negative. Neville feared that his friend was going to turn Draco down. Again. And this would not be good. It would make Neville’s self-appointed job of slowing integrating his friend within the Slytherin Court, and getting them to accept him, that much harder. Hell, more like impossible, if Harry looked down on Draco’s gracious offer a *second* time. Draco never gave second chances to anyone. Neville was just glad that Draco had never, previously, given him a first chance, until after he fell for Blaise. And Longbottom was determined not to blow it. He was determined not to let Harry blow it either. He had found out last year that good things, no great things, sometimes come in evil looking packages.

“What?” Draco eyes raked over Harry’s face, looking for validation to that statement “You don’t have a broom anymore? What happened to your Firebolt?”

Harry shifted away from the intense gaze. “Well…it’s broken.”

Draco leaned forward and malevolently whispered in his ear. “Did *they* do it?” Because if they did, then there would be Hell to pay.

From the corner of his eyes, Harry noticed a non-existent breeze ruffle Draco’s white-gold, Veela, tresses, and his crystal eyes turned into dangerous silver slits, right before they glared toward the Gryffindor table.

At seeing Malfoy’s malicious concern, a thrill shivered through Harry. He didn’t know why, but it pleased him, that his misfortune, infuriated Draco. Especially, when just a few months ago, the blond would have laughed right along with his tormentors. Idly, he wondered what Malfoy would do if he said yes. Then he decided that no, lying wasn’t such a good idea because this was *Draco Malfoy.* A guy who felt that getting even, –even for little acts of defiance against him– consisted of destroying peoples lives, burning their homes down, and getting them blacklisted for all eternity.

“Ah… no.. It wasn’t them… It was—” Harry paused and bit his lip.

“Well, who was it then?”

“Yes, Harry what happened?”

Harry looked into Malfoy’s barely patient eyes, then into Neville’s ever patient ones. It was then when Harry realized that Zabini finally made it to the Great Hall, but he only noticed the other raven-haired boy because he had Neville sitting on his lap, at the overly crowded table. Behind Neville’s back, he glared at Harry for no reason whatsoever, then shifted his hateful gaze away and whispered quiet, and loving, endearments into Longbottom’s ear, making the brown-haired boy blush. Harry then looked away, and around the table. Uncomfortably, he noticed that almost everybody was waiting for his confession, as they blatantly eavesdropped on their conversation.

That made Harry even more reluctant to go on. He didn’t want to confess what happened to his Firebolt. He didn’t want to admit that he cracked it, over his knee, ripped out it bristles, and burned it, not with a fire spell, but with a burst of power fueled by his own rage and hurt. He didn’t want to admit that not only did he destroy the broom, but he destroyed every thing Sirius Black ever bestowed to him. Every letter. Every gift. Every THING. So instead, he gave a sheepish grin, and said.

“I crashed it. Doing some stupid trick.”

“Oh! Are you alright?” Neville gasped, as his eyes searched his friend for any signs of injury. Blaise silently pouted in obvious jealously and glared at Harry. Again.

“Yes, I’m alright. It happened a while back.” Harry replied as he ignored Zabini and refused to look at Draco, in fear that he would be able to see his deception.

In truth, Draco wasn’t paying attention to Harry at the moment. For Finnegan, Thomas, the two Weasleys, and Granger had just walked into the Great Hall. Draco gave them a darkly, superior smirk then returned his attention back toward Harry.

“Then you are in good fortune……” Malfoy smiled out as he leaned over Potter –while being extra careful not to touch him– and pushed the plates, in front of them, out of the way. He then lifted the case, he held in his hand, over Harry’s head and presented it on the table in a theatrically grand gesture. “Because I had already decided to allow you to use mine. My *new* one. That is.”

That grabbed *everyone’s* attention. From EVERY table. Thus making everyone crowd around them.

“You follow professional Quiddittch, am I right, Potter?” Malfoy asked as he stood straight up and casually crossed his arms.

“Yes, I follow it.” Potter replied, sort of suspiciously, as he twisted in his seat to look at Malfoy.

“So I can also assume that you know who Delvin Whitehorn is?” Draco asked bit more loudly than he had to. But then again, he wanted to make sure everyone heard what he was saying. It would ruin the effect if he had to repeat himself.

“Of course I know who he is!” Harry answered as he felt a surge of excitement flow through him. He glanced back at the leather case, in front of him, then back toward Draco. “He’s the founder of the Nimbus Racing Broom Company. He established it in 1967. It was his ground breaking designs with his Nimbus Broom which revolutionized the game of Quidditch! He was the— ”

“Yes , yes.” Draco agreed sounding bored. “Well, it turns out that he’s a friend of the family.” A cousin. A distant cousin, actually.

“NO WAY!” Harry gasped as he gave Malfoy his completely attention.

Draco smirked. “And we have stock in his company.”

“Really?!” But in the back of Harry’s mind he was asking, “what the hell is stock?” But he wouldn’t ask that out loud. For it would probably make him sound stupid.

“Yes.” Malfoy arched a curious brow. “Why do you think my father purchased all of those brooms for the Slytherin team? Not only did we get them less than wholesale. It was good for business. The free advertisement due to word of mouth, alone, made us a mint.”

“So it was just about business?” And didn’t that boogle the mind. All these years Harry thought it was Draco’s ticket on the team.

“Everything’s about business.” Malfoy smiled very shark-like. “Even this proposal, I have for you.”

“First, tell me your price, Malfoy, because I’m not giving you my soul.” Harry demanded with cautious joy. “Not even for Whitehorns newest model broom.”

“I’m not asking for it.” Draco smiled darkly as his gaze never wavered from Harry’s. He didn’t bother to mention that because of the marriage proposal and the agreement between their ancestors, and his great-grandfather’s Shin traditions –which were included in the pack– he already owned it. No, that would defeat the purpose of what he was trying do. Instead, he carefully leaned over Harry and opened the case.

“Oh my GOD!” Harry gasped as he practically drooled over the case and the broom inside. “Is that?… Is that?....”

“Excalibur.” Draco drawled haughtily. “Yes it is. Whiteborn’s *newest* and most innovative broom. Even more so than the Nimbus ever was. There is nothing like it. And for at least half a decade, nothing will be able to even be compared to it. Because as it stands. Excalibur is the *pinnacle* of racing brooms.”

There were oohhs and ahhs and envious comments throughout the crowd surrounding them.

“I changed my mind!” Harry drooled as he stared wide eyed at the broom. “You can have my soul!”

At that statement everyone –even the Gryffindors– were pushing each other to get a closer look at the broom.

“I can’t believe you have one! They’re not even supposed to be on sale until April!” Harry admitted completely flabbergasted. “They don’t even have a complete picture of it in magazines!”

“The magazine editorials are created, in such a way that it will generate hype. And as for not being able to purchase it, that’s for the general public.” Malfoy informed snobbishly. “I am excluded from that portion of the population. Moreover, I got mine free.” He smirked haughtily when everyone’s attention snapped toward him.

“My father helped create it.” He bragged. However, he didn’t mention that it was also his present for not lashing out at the Beginning of the Year Banquet.

“My God .. It’s so beautiful!” Harry breathed out as he went to touch it. However, before his fingers could brush against it, he withdrew his hand back. Almost as if he was reverently afraid he would soil it.

“What’s it made out of?” Someone asked curiously. A Gryffindor. “Is it silver?”

“No, silver would be too heavy for a racing broom.” Draco informed in the tone he used while teaching. “A good racing broom needs to be light weight. The lighter the better.” He gave Potter a cocky wink. And Harry nodded happily in agreement.

“The lighter the material, the more dangerous the broom.” Someone countered knowingly. “I thought the Federal Racing Association concluded that the Firebolt was barely regulation. They were even talking about taking it off the market because it’s so dangerous. Even Potter, broke his.”

Draco glanced at the boy speaking. A Ravenclaw. Figures. But instead of getting upset, Draco just smiled. It was a smile which expressed that he was *hoping* someone would say that.

“That’s why Whiteborn and my Father chose to ignore the cost and go with mithril” He went to pick it up and grabbed the broom from the middle, then balanced it on the tip of his finger.

Ohhs and ahhs were again heard.

“It’s feather-light and practically indestructible.” Draco informed as he watched the broom –teeter slightly, and with perfect balance– with a bit of awe. The broom truly was amazing. “I must say… Ol’ Devin really out done himself with *this* broom. The aerodynamics alone are something to be marveled. With my father’s connection’s, he was able to convince the Fallen Charon to allow Whiteborn to get the streamline design of their oars. And if you know anything about the design of those oars, you will know that it will decrease, any racing brooms, frictional drag and increase its viscosity. Excalibur’s no exception.” Draco then gestured to the sleek design of the brooms bristles. They looked almost completely solid and flat –like an oar– as they ended in a point. “Even the fastest broom to date, will pale in comparison to Excalibur.”

Harry didn’t realize that he was holding his breath, until he found himself choking. Excalibur was everything he had imagined it to be. And more.

Neville who wasn’t really into Quidditch was impressed with Excalibur too. With its shiny silver frame, sleek bristles, Perfectly hard, straight rod, and its large almost penis-like tip. He felt like he could get an orgasm just by looking at it. With that in mind, he twisted a bit and whispered into Blaise ear that maybe they should take advantage of the time they had. Seeing how it had been a while, since the last time they were together. Blaise was up and dragging Neville out of the Hall before his boyfriend even finished the sentence.

Someone quickly took their place, but Harry didn’t notice because Draco was now holding the broom out to him. Harry started to take it, then shook his head. No, this was wrong. No one just shared their brooms. Especially a broom like Excalibur. Not even him. He wouldn’t even consider it, not even in a million years. It just wasn’t done. There had to be a catch.

“I… can’t…” And God that was like pulling teeth. His own teeth, and without Novocain.

“Are you nuts?” Yelled someone in the crowd. There was a rumble of agreement from around the table. They couldn’t believe that Harry just refused Excalibur.

“It cost too much...What if something happens to it?” Harry babbled reluctantly before he added. “… I did break my Firebolt after all.”

“I’ll take it!” Someone else called out.

“It’s made out of mithril, Potter.” Malfoy informed as he ignored everyone else. “You’ll break before it does.”

“But…it’s new and—”

Malfoy furrowed his brow. “Do you not *want* to use it? Because I have other brooms. ”

“Oh no, that’s not it!” Harry quickly admitted because God knew he wanted to fly on that broom. He wanted to snatch it out of Draco’s hand and take off, never to return again. “…It’s just that—” It was too good to be true. But Harry didn’t dare say that. Draco was practically *giving* him his position as Seeker *and* the use of Excalibur. The most wonderful, and perfect, broom in the ENTIRE world!

Nevertheless, there had to be some type of hidden agenda. Harry was almost positive of it. Malfoy’s continued philanthropy was very un-Slytherin like behavior. Too un-Slytherin like. But more than that, this was very un-*Malfoy* like behavior. So there had to be some type of hidden nefarious plot, or price. There always was with Malfoy. Harry wasn’t sure he could afford the cost. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Draco sighed and put the broom back in the case, but he didn’t close it. “I know what you’re thinking Potter, and you’ve got it all wrong.”

Harry didn’t look like he believed him.

“Honestly!” Malfoy huffed and glared at the magical ceiling, then took a deep breath to calm his temper. “Look,” He glared at Potter. “I know I don’t have the best reputation, but this time… I am simply looking out for the best interest of my team.” Which was true. They worked too damn hard this summer to lose now.

“So this is all for Slytherin?” Harry asked skeptically.

Instead of answering, –because he knew there weren’t enough words in the English dictionary to convince Potter that he was telling the truth– Malfoy leaned over Harry again, and touched a secret latch in the case. Instantly, a secret compartment magically appeared. In that compartment, there was a single picture nestled safely inside. He didn’t pull it out. He didn’t have to because Harry could see it clearly.

It was a picture of Harry’s mother. The one the boy lost in Draco’s room 5 days ago. The one of her in her Slytherin Robe and Head Girl badge.

“I know you don’t like Slytherin.” Draco began with false understanding. “And you probably feel that you are betraying Gryffindor by even considering playing for us. But don’t you think it’s time to put that childish rivalry aside? You’ve been given a situation which will allow you to play for *both* of your parent’s teams. What I don’t understand is, why you’re not jumping at the chance to take advantage of this opportunity. ”

Harry stared at the picture of his mother. In her Slytherin Head Girl uniform.

Malfoy continued. “Don’t you think it’s time to make her proud, by playing for *her* and the House *she* loved?”

God, Malfoy really *did* play dirty.

Harry was going counter with “How could she love a House who despised her kind?” but the words died in his mouth when she smiled at him.

With pride.

A Slytherin Pride.

The pride of someone crafty, intelligent, and diligent enough to achieve their goals.

Huge goals, like being a muggle-born, Slytherin *success*.

Then Harry remembered that he wouldn’t even *have* this picture, or any pictures or her for that matter, if it wasn’t for Draco.

It made him wonder why was he being so reluctant to play Quidditch again anyway?

It made him wonder why he was so Hell bent on distrusting Malfoy, when Draco had be nothing but nice to him lately. Been nothing but honest.

Mostly honest.

Well… more honest than anyone else had been with him for the past six YEARS.

Hell, his whole life!

Pansy, who had acquired Zabini’s and Neville’s seat leaned over Harry –who looked like he was lost in some kind of daze–and looked into the broom case and at the picture. “She’s pretty. Who is she? Your girlfriend, Potter?” She asked this with a disbelieving snort. Because who in their right mind would risk life, limb, and reputation to date Potter. The boy was like a walking target for trouble.

“My mother.” Harry answered proudly, yet distractedly. He was still thinking about Draco’s offer. And Draco in particular.

“No WAY!” She gasped, completely shocked. “I didn’t know your mother was pure!” Because of course, in Pansy’s opinion, she *had* to be a pureblood. Seeing that Lily was in Slytherin *And* a Head Girl. “I thought she was a mud—”

Malfoy quickly covered her mouth with his hands. He was not going to have Pansy–and her tactless mouth– ruin what he just skillfully manipulated. “You’ll have to excuse her, Potter.” Draco smiled out as he struggled to contain her. “When she was a baby, she was dropped on her head.” He glared down at his ex and added “Repeatedly.”

“She wasn’t ‘pure.’ She was a muggleborn.” Harry snapped at the girl. But he was proud that his mother wasn’t. Pure that is. His mother was an example to be followed. She was proof that Slytherins weren’t what everyone believed them to be. Pureblood, evil, bastards. She was also proof that Harry didn’t have to be what every ungrateful, bastard wanted him to be either.

Their Sacrificial Offering for the upcoming war.

The raven-haired boy then looked toward the Head Table and at all the professors there. They knew his parents. Most of them taught his mother *and* father, but yet they told him nothing. Even Lupin, still, barely had any stories to share.

Speaking of Lupin, Harry noticed that the man was looking at Draco with a thinly veiled…What was that? Contempt?

Harry then shifted his gaze toward the Great Hall door and at Dumbledore, who didn’t notice him either. The old wizard was looking at Draco too. Almost as if the boy were a great secret, or a riddle, he had no idea how to solve but wanted so desperately to do so.

Harry didn’t know why, but the Headmaster’s expression made him angry. It made him feel that because of Dumbledore –who Harry used to have unquestionable trust in – didn’t have all the answers concerning this puzzle; It made Harry feel like he had lost something.

Something great.

Something that was his, and was supposed to have always been his.

So with a new resolve and a new outlook on life, in general, Harry shifted in his seat and faced Malfoy. “What are your terms?”

Malfoy smirked to hide the shock that Potter was actually going to play along. The blond wasn’t so sure after Harry started looking toward the DADA professor and Headmaster.

“Only that you’ll be the first one to catch the snitch, in every game.” Draco replied breezily as he let Pansy go. She glared at him as she wiped her own spittle from her lips and cheek, but she didn’t make another peep. She knew better. And she knew Malfoy well enough to know that he was only *pretending* to be a nice guy right now.

Harry ignored the girl, as his raven-eyebrows shot up into his hair line. “That’s it?” He could hardly believe it. It was just too simple. He narrowed his eyes and waited for the rest.

And Draco didn’t disappoint him. “Well… That and the fact that I’m pretty sure that if Excalibur caused the death of the ‘Great Harry Potter’, it would be bad for future sales.” Draco gave him a disarming, cocky wink as he casually pushed back his robe and slipped his hands into his pants pockets. “And we can’t have that, can we? Therefore, you are also going to have to promise me that you won’t kill yourself on my broom. So no more crazy tricks, like the one which broke your Firebolt.”

“Are you serious?” Harry asked dumbfounded. “That’s it?” Because he still couldn’t believe it.

“Of course. What were you expecting?” Malfoy asked with false injury. However, in truth, Draco actually wanted to ask for something different. A favor, of any sort. But at seeing an honestly happy, crooked smile light up Potter’s face. A smile he hadn’t seen in…well, YEARS–like in his first year, and before all that horrible shite started happening to Harry– Draco felt strangely satisfied with the terms of the deal. It was very peculiar. Very peculiar indeed.

“I don’t know what I was expecting…” Harry replied honestly. He really didn’t because with Malfoy the possibilities were endless. But maybe Neville was right, and Malfoy really wasn’t that bad of a guy. It kind of made him wish that hadn’t blown him off all those years ago.

“So I take it we have a deal then?” Draco asked to be sure. In his opinion, it was always good practice to finalize a deal, and never go on assumption.

“Hey! What about me?” Scroll whined, accusingly. “I thought it was going to be a *fair* tryout! I thought no one was *guaranteed* your position!” The poor child didn’t realize that the tryouts were only a front to ensure Potter could play. Seeing how the former Gryffindor wasn’t originally part of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Harry ignored the other boy’s outburst, as he nodded toward Draco, and smiled happily. Then on impulse, he held out his hand. A reverse offering to what was refused so many years ago.

Malfoy glanced at the proffered hand as if it were riddled with disease, before he quickly changed his expression into his “Salazar” smile and, reluctantly, eased his hand out of his pocket and shook it.

Many people from other Houses, including Gryffindor, started to clap. To them, this signified the end of an era. The end of the war between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. They refused to take this exchange as an apocalyptic sign. To them, this was a great omen to how the War with You-Know-Who was going to end. Peacefully and without bloodshed or death. Even Slytherins were clapping. Well, the Quidditch players at least –well, all except Scroll who was furious– because they wanted to *win* this season and they knew that with Potter as Seeker, it was a sure bet. The rest of the Slytherins didn’t know what to think.

From a distance, Ronald Weasley just watched the whole conversation, completely horrified, jealous and angry. Despite all his hatefulness over the years, to his former friend, what Harry was doing now –befriending Draco MALFOY– was the ultimate betrayal. The unforgivable sin. Unable to stomach it, he turned on his heal and stormed out of the Great Hall, in a black cloud of fury. He wasn’t hungry anymore, for he had just lost his appetite as he watched all chances of Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup, *without* Harry Potter, and under *his* complete lead, wash down the drain. But more than that disappointment was that his great victory over Malfoy turned out to be an even greater loss for himself. Malfoy had finally done what he set out to do from the get go. He had taken Ron’s best friend away. Forever.

When Ron left, his two crooneys quickly followed. Hermione didn’t even notice the departure of her boyfriend. Her eye’s never left Harry’s happy face, and a small smile tugged at her lips. Ginny stayed behind as well, and watched the Head Girl with a knowing gaze.

“You planned this didn’t you?” Ginny marveled after a minute. “You *knew* this would happen if Ron got Malfoy kicked off the team! Didn’t you?”

Hazel eyes widened in horror, then Hermione snapped her gaze toward her friend “Well, I..I. didn’t know *exactly*… It was just a great… possibility .A sort of an *assumption*” She tried to explain, as she tripped over her words. “I mean.. really ...how would I have known….that Malfoy would do *this*…” She clumsily gestured to the scene in front of them. “To get back at us. I’m not psychic, Ginny.”

“No, but you of all people are smart enough to figure out that Malfoy, the so called Prince of the Serpents, would have no problem using our own hero to crush us!” Ginny accused angrily. “Because the Slytherin motto is to ‘win at any cost.’ Even if that meant Malfoy had to hand over his position to his greatest rival.” Ginny blinked, completely speechless, then accused. “I can’t believe you…You plotted for Slytherin?”

“No!” Hermione gasped then tried to explain. “ I.. I did this for Harry! Not Slytherin! For HARRY! He deserves this!” She grabbed Ginny’s hands in a tight grip. “Please don’t tell! I..it’s just that...” She’d do anything to make things right for Harry again. The guilt was eating her alive.

Ginny just shook her head as she shimmied her hands out of Hermione’s bone crushing grip. “It’s alright ‘Mione.” She gave the girl an understanding smile. “I probably would have done the same thing, if I’d thought of it. I just wish you would have .. I dunno…trusted me enough to tell me first. I promise you, I wouldn’t have sabotaged your plans.” Unshed tears burned her eyes, as she choked out the next words. “I feel dreadful for how I treated Harry. I…I shouldn’t have let it go as far as it did. I’m ashamed of myself.”

“Me too.” Hermione whispered, then looked back at Harry’s smiling face. “Me too.”

Goodness, how long had it been since she’d seen him smile like that?

Too long.

“He’s going to retaliate you know.” Ginny reminded as she brushed away a wayward tear with the back of her hand.

Hermione shrugged, knowing exactly who the other girl was talking about. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“He’s really mad, Hermione. He may not look it, or even act it, but...” The red-haired girl gave her friend a desperate and frightened look. “Remember Alousin? All she did was *insult* him. And he burnt her house down! *We* took his position *and* his glory away from him!” The more she thought about it, the more terrified Ginny felt.

Hermione sighed solemnly because she knew that Ginny spoke the truth. She then gave her friend a brave smile. “I’m not afraid of Malfoy, Ginny. And I’m not going to let his reputation keep me from doing what’s right. And *this* is right.” She gestured toward Harry. “So as for Malfoy’s retaliation…” She shrugged again. “Well, I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I get to the water.” Cause really, besides using a timeturner spell, there wasn’t much she could do about it now. The deed was done.

The youngest Weasley just shook her head. “No wonder you were put in Gryffindor. You’re fearless. Insanely so.” However, her tone was laced with admiration.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t for my brains.” Hermione teased back as she draped her arm around the other girl’s shoulders. She glanced back toward Harry and at his happy face and smiled. Admittedly, she *was* a little afraid of what Malfoy was going to do to her for this bout of insubordination, but she didn’t regret her actions.

No, she didn’t regret it at all.


Tbc.



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A.N., If you couldn’t already tell, this is the end of Harry’s isolation. ^_^ Yay!!

I know it’s probably been hard for some of you to read this story, sorry, I really am. I forget sometimes that only ~I~ know where I am going with this. So when I am driving you crazy, you need to tell me. Tell me straight out . I take all my reviews to heart. Many times a review will help me see things from a different angle. They help me better express what I am trying to say.

They let me know that I need to ease your fears and worries for Harry. ^_~

So please review. I’m not to proud to beg. ^_^

One last thing. The “chapter” isn’t finished but this seemed like a good place to end. ^_^ But the next part is no where near finished. The flow is off. So it may be a little while before its posted..

Again, I’m sorry.

Hugs and love.

Babychan

Please review.

Oh Asinus asinorum in saecula saeculorum. Means The greatest jackass in eternity.