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 32/?

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

Warning: Mention of non-con HP/SB

Summary: The wizarding world is going to find out that Harry Potter is not the only one with awesome powers. Its a Pro-Slytherin and Pro-Draco fic. This is slash fiction. .

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. .

A.N.: I would like to thank everyone for their reviews for my fic. It means sooooooo very much. Thank you!!! Sorry for the delay in this chapter. RL got in the way.

Spell Master

“This is complete bullshit!” A chaser named Audrey Brierburgh, whispered to the chaser next to him. “How many times is he going to make us do the same fucking drill?’

“I know.” Sisyphus out wheezed beside him. “I thought he was a crazy taskmaster before, when he was just captain. Now that he’s coach, he’s completely insane!”

“Are you two whining *again*!” Draco yelled from the green of the pitch. His arms were crossed and he was looking none too pleased.

The two boys practically jumped out of their skin and fell off their brooms when Draco responded. Nevertheless, they knew better to voice their gripes or even admit that they were griping in the first place.

“I thought not.” Draco growled, understanding the wisdom of their silence. “Because I have plenty of junior team members who would *love* to be in your position!” Draco made a grand gesture to the boys behind him sitting on the bench. Ironically, the underyears looked as if they had no desire, whatsoever, to join in the practice. Not with Malfoy turning into a Quidittch megalomaniac. “Now, if either of you two dunderheads happen to get the quaffle through the fucking hoop…” He spat out in a disgusted fashion. “Then *maybe* I’ll let you start on a different drill!” Draco then shifted his attention towards the Beaters and at what Greg and Vincent were doing on the other side of the pitch.

“How in the hell did he hear us from way down there?” Audrey whispered fearfully, right before he kicked off toward Zabini.

The other boy just shrugged but, this time, he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

Harry watched the whole exchange from a few feet above. Part of him pitied the two boys. It wasn’t that they weren’t good. Because they were. They were damn good. Unfortunately, for the two Chasers, Blaise Zabini was just an exceptional Keeper. Harry would be surprised if *anyone* scored on him this year.

This was Harry’s second practice with the Slytherin Quidditch Team. The first one was the mock tryout yesterday. He was actually kind of nervous about the upcoming game. Tomorrow, he would be playing against his old House, former friends and teammates. Luckily, he knew the way they all played like the back of his hand. If he wanted, he could tell Draco and help his new team better prepare for the match.

It would be the Slytherin thing to do.

However, as he watched them practice, Harry honestly didn’t feel they needed the info. They were just that good. He was honestly surprised at the Slytherin team’s skill. It was a HUGE improvement from last year.

Nevertheless, Harry didn’t understand why Malfoy refused to reschedule the game. It would have been the sensible thing to do. Instead, Malfoy suggested that in the “Spirit of Fair Play” Gryffindor should offer up their scheduled practice for the Slytherin Tryouts. Under the scrutiny of the whole Great Hall, Lupin –who had taken McGonagall’s place as Team Coach– reluctantly relented. Draco then turned that “tryout” into an extra practice and Slytherin ended up having two practices, two days before the game, while Gryffindor had none.

Despite that, and in Harry’s opinion, this practice was insane. Never in his life did he ever think that he would find a more relentless Team Captain, no Quidditch Coach –because Zabini was now Captain and Draco convinced Snape to relinquish his position as Coach– than Oliver Wood. However, there was a big difference between the two. Oliver had an obsessive *love* for the game, while Draco had an obsessive *need* to win.

Coach Malfoy even took time out for the team to practice their blatching, blagging, and for Crabbe and Goyle their bumphing and a number of other different ways to cheat.

Harry had always wondered if Slytherin had to practice their art of cheating, or if it was some kind of intrinsic ability. Because they were certainly good at it. Now, he knew first hand that they *did* have to practice it. And for some reason –as he watched them practice a ploy that would confuse the ref in their favor– that sight comforted him. It was always good to be reassured that Slytherins weren’t innately evil.

Seeing how he was now one of them.

Harry was also glad that he was Seeker, because unlike everyone else, Draco mostly left him alone.

“Potter!”

Shit, spoke too soon.

Harry glanced toward the ground and at Malfoy, who was making a small gesture with his hand for him to meet him. Quickly, he kicked off and nose dived down. It was almost a perfect feint until he realized –almost a moment too late– that he was going to reach the green sooner than he anticipated. Excalibur was *extremely* fast. Much faster than his Firebolt. And Harry told himself that he needed to remember that before he mistakenly broke his neck. Or even worse. The broom.

Draco’s heart skipped a beat, and he frowned at the sight of Harry almost crashing. “Are you sure you can handle that broom, Potter? Because I have many others you can take your pick from.”

Fear surged through Harry at the thought of Malfoy taking *his* broom back. Harry was in love with this broom, and he had decided, on his first ride of it, that he was leaving Hogwarts with Excalibur. Even if he had to stole away in the middle of the night.

It was the Slytherin thing to do. And seeing how he was now a Slytherin…It was his duty to take it.

“No… I’m okay. I just miscalculated.” Harry assured with what he hoped was his best reassuring smile.

Draco didn’t look convinced, but dug a snitch out of his pocket anyway. It was a silver one and extremely expensive. He held it out to Harry. “Hold your hand out.”

Harry held out his hand to receive the snitch, but Draco moved and held it out in front of the tip of the broom, making Harry have to lean forward and reach as if he were actually catching it for a game. Still, Draco didn’t give it to him.

“At this distance, I want you to follow the snitch.”

“For how long?” Harry inquired, dropping his hand to his side and sitting back up.

“Until I tell you otherwise.” He gave Harry a pointed stare which brook no argument. “However, this drill will be in ten-minute intervals. I want to see you following this thing wherever it goes. If it zigzags, then you zigzag. If it turns left, then you turn left. If it goes up, then you go up. If it goes down, then you go down.— ”

“Okay, I get it.” Harry huffed with a roll of his eyes.

Malfoy frowned at the interruption, but continued anyway. “I don’t want you to catch it. And I don’t want you any closer, or further, than the distance I specified. Just follow it. Do you understand?”

“I’m not stupid.” Potter groused “Of course, I understand.”

The blond Coach looked skeptical but continued with his instruction. “In ten minutes, I will summon it back to me and speed it up, and then I want you to continue with the exercise. Doing the same thing, and following it at the same distance.”

Potter’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, and he asked again. “How long am I supposed to do this?”

“Until I’m confident that you can handle yourself on that broom.” Malfoy answered bluntly. “One more mishap like the one you pulled just now, and I will have to downgrade you to something slower. A Nimbus maybe.”

“What?” Harry spat out insulted. He hadn’t ridden a Nimbus in ages. “If you’re worried about me catching the snitch tomorrow, well don’t!”

“If I was worried about that, Potter….” Malfoy drawled “I wouldn’t have given you the position as Seeker. I’m more worried about you feinting to your death.”

“I didn’t know you cared.” Potter scoffed sarcastically. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop the blush that burned his checks at the thought of Malfoy actually caring about his safety.

“I don’t.” Draco assured matter-of-factly, even though a part of him did. A small part that he wished to squash out of existence. “Except your death would be bad for business. My family’s business and the future sales of Excalibur.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the other boy’s callousness. In his opinion, Malfoy was such a thoughtless jerk. A bastard too. Nonetheless, Harry somehow knew that Draco’s words weren’t entirely true. He could feel it. And he felt it too, when he almost crashed. It was very peculiar.

Ignoring Potter’s scrutiny, Draco shifted his attention toward the Chasers again. Sisyphus was whooping with joy. The boy finally got a quaffle through the hoop. “About damn time.” He mumbled to himself right before he looked back at Harry and said in a tone which brook no argument. “Remember, Potter, I only want you to follow it. Not catch it.” Malfoy then let the snitch go.

Harry had no choice but to follow it. Unfortunately, the silver snitch moved embarrassingly slow. It would probably take three of the ten minutes to get properly in the air. Harry scowled. In his opinion, this drill was stupid and a waste of time. Harry looked back at his coach. “Hey, Malfoy! Will you at least speed this thing up?!” He gestured to the slow moving snitch. “At least make this drill worth my time!”

“In ten minutes.” Draco smirked, spitefully. “This drill is all about control, Potter. It’s about time you exhibited some.” He then walked away, shouting out a new drill for the Chasers.

That was how Harry Potter spent the rest of the Quidditch practice. However, because of that exercise, in control, which lasted for *hours*, he could now handle Excalibur like a pro. At any speed, twists, turns, zigzags, feints and everything in-between were no longer a problem. So on that note, Malfoy did know what he was talking about. Another, thing that drill accomplished was making Harry so un-godly sore that he wanted to die. EVERYTHING hurt! He had muscles hurting that he didn’t even know existed. As a Seeker, he knew that there was always a strain on the body when riding a broom. Keeping oneself balanced took more than skill; it took a fair amount of strength. So he thought he was used to the toll it took on his body.

He was wrong.

Today, Harry learned the big difference in the way Draco coached and the way Oliver instructed. His former Gryffindor captain allowed everyone to play off their emotions. With Wood, each drill always had a different out come. Most of their best plays were mistakes made in the heat of the moment. Malfoy, on the other hand, was extremely pragmatic and logical. He demanded that every drill had the planned result. All spectacular moments should/would be able to be duplicated. It was all about skill, and control. Everyone on the team was like a finely honed machine. Draco allowed the emotion, but with hard work and repetitive drills, –including drills on how to cheat– he ensured that his team had the *skill* to back it up.

This whole experience made Harry rethink that whole statement about Slytherins doing anything and everything they need to do, to win. Apparently, doing “anything” didn’t necessarily mean doing something sinister. It also meant working hard too. And Merlin’s beard, did they work hard.

Twice as hard as everyone else.

Because usually…they were only given half a chance.

When practice was over, Harry was nervous about going into the Slytherin locker room, with the team. There were years of animosity between him and the team. Six years of being the reason they lost the Quidditch Cup. Yesterday, he avoided going in there. Unfortunately, today he was too tired to trek up to the Slytherin washrooms. Too tired and too sore. His back, shoulders, neck, sides, stomach, arms, finger, thighs, toes, even his mouth was sore from pinching them together as he made himself stay the appropriate distance behind the snitch. Because if he was even an inch too close, or too far away, Malfoy would bark out some sort of derogatory remark, in front of everyone, about him not being able to follow the simplest of instructions.

When Harry walked into the locker room he wasn’t surprised to see that it was nicer and more expensive looking than the Gryffindor one. Everything was like that in Slytherin. However, he was surprised to be so openly welcomed.

“Sore, Potter?” A red-haired boy laughed, good naturedly, and with only a bit of spite.

“Uh..Yeah.” Harry reluctantly admitted.

“Join the club.” Another boy laughed as he undressed to take a shower. “No more pansy arse practices like in Gryffindor eh?”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he decided not to comment.

“You’ll find that Malfoy’s a real hard asre when it comes to Quidditch!” One of the reserve Beaters volunteered, as he made his way to the showers. “So be prepared to get used to it. Don’t think he’s going to take it easy on you because of who you are.”

Harry gave him a curious glance, but decided not to comment. If anything, it would probably be the exact opposite.

“Are you crazy, Thomas?” Audrey warned fearfully, as he followed the Beater. “You can’t say that to *him.*” He pointed at Harry. “It’ll get right back to Malfoy.”

“I won’t say anything” Harry assured but also confused to why the boy thought he would tattle to the coach.

Audrey didn’t looked convince but let it go. “Still, he didn’t mean anything by it…But he needs to watch his mouth.”

“Because everyone knows that Malfoy hears everything.” Sisyphus teased, seriously, as he wrapped a towel around his naked waist and made his way to the showers.

“Ain’t that the truth!” Someone from the back laughed.

But Harry could tell that they felt confident that this conversation wouldn’t get back to the blond demon. Especially since Draco had left for the castle a few minutes prior.

Feeling a bit more confident about coming in here, Potter then looked around until he found Neville. The other former Gryffindor was helping out during practice as a water boy of sorts. Now, he was standing behind Blaise massaging the boy’s shoulders.

The Keeper had his shirt off, and he looked beat and bruised from blocking so many quaffles. Harry was once again glad that he was Seeker. When Neville saw him, he smiled and waved him over. Blaise scowled.

“Oh, Harry! I got something for you!” The brown-haired boy beamed, then turned around to get something out of Zabini’s locker.

Upon arrival, Harry was given a folded piece of paper and a bar of soap. “Do I smell that bad?” He joked.

“Yes...you do.” Zabini snorted and glared even more. Even though, he knew beforehand that his cherub was going to do this, it didn’t mean he had to like it.

Neville chuckled softly and shook his head no. “The soap is a mixture of horseradish, hyssop, lavender, and ginger. I made it myself from the herbs I grew with Sprout. It should get rid of your muscle aches.”

Harry ignored Zabini and smiled appreciatively. “Thanks! You have no idea how much I need it right now.”

“Sure I do.” Longbottom smiled as he retuned to massaging his boyfriend’s shoulders. “I watched them practice under Draco, all summer, and I quickly realized that muscle aches are a given.”

“Oh.” Harry filed that new information away and fought the spike of jealousy that it caused.

Zabini glared at the note in Potter’s hand and bit out. “What’s the note for?” He looked up at his boyfriend. “Surely, it’s not directions on how to use soap.” He gave Harry a condescending glare. “But then again… he was raised by muggles.”

Nevilled sighed disappointedly then answered gently. “I don’t know what the note is for. I didn’t write it, nor did I read it, love.” He used the back of his fingers to caress Blaise’s cheek in a soothing motion. “Zaira came by the pitch and said it was for Harry.” He then gave his boyfriend a reassuring kiss on the top of his raven head. Blaise was so possessive and even more so when Harry was around. Luckily for Blaise, Neville thought it was hot. Still, he never provoked it, for Blaise’s jealously was also violent. Not violent towards him, thank goodness, but violent none the less.

Harry quickly opened the letter and read its contents.

“What’s it say?” Zabini pried. Though he really just wanted to make sure it wasn’t from Neville. He’s been a Slytherin too long to just trust someone’s word. Even if it was the word of his cherub.

Harry wasn’t going to answer, but Neville looked curious too. And since it wasn’t anything private. “Uh... It says the appointment I made yesterday, to see Malfoy, was moved to ten-thirty tonight.” Harry scowled. “Why didn’t he just tell me this himself?”

“It’s because he compartmentalizes his life.” Longbottom explained knowingly and shrugged. “I realized this, this summer when I worked for him. He doesn’t like to mix things. Especially business and pleasure.”

Again, Harry had to push down the urge to be jealous of Neville’s relationship with Draco. But it was hard dammit! Neville acted like he knew everything about Draco. And for some reason, that really pissed him off.

“Are you telling me that *you*” Zabini pointed at Harry as he asked brightly. “Got the *last* available appointment of the day?”

“I guess.” Harry admitted a bit perplexed. “Why? What’s the big deal?”

Blaise gave him a licentious, knowing smirk. “Nothing at all, Potter. Just confirming a suspicion.” He then stood up and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand. “Let’s go shower, love.”

Neville gave a confused tilt of his head. Unlike Zabini, *he* didn’t’ need a shower.

Blaise gave him amorous wink “My day has just gotten better.” He made a small head gesture toward Harry, then wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and started kissing his neck. “ And I wanted to show you how better.”

“Oh… I see..” Neville giggled as he smiled knowingly and allowed himself to be led toward the showers.

“Wait!” Harry called out nervously as they walked away. “What’s wrong with my appointment time?”

Neville glanced back at his friend and blushed. “Nothing’s ‘wrong’ with it, Harry.” He assured as he allowed himself to be led into a private shower with his boyfriend. “Just…” Naughty giggle “Just have a good time!”

Good time? What the hell was Neville talking about? Harry thought confused. Nevertheless, he made this appointment for a reason, and he was going whether he trusted Draco’s intentions or not.

tbc