Three's Revenge

Three’s Revenge

By Newshound

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company are the exclusive property of J. K. Rowling. This fiction is entirely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made from it.

Chapter 5: Strange Bedfellows

Charlie decided to take a walk after leaving Harry’s apartment; he wanted to have a look around Hogsmeade, see how much it had changed. He felt guilty about causing what he imagined would turn into a knockdown drag-out for Harry, but he had more important matters on his mind.

Like what he was going to do now that it looked like help from Harry’s quarter would not be forthcoming. He toyed with the idea of just marching up to Hogwarts, finding Severus and declaring his intentions. He had always favored the direct approach and he was sorely tempted to employ it in this romantic pursuit as well. What worried him was the response. If he got tossed out on his ear (as he suspected he might), what further alternative was there? Therefore, he needed to be subtle, take it slow (something else he disdained) and keep all his options open. Not an easy thing to do when the man of your dreams was a mere stroll away.

Hogsmeade had changed, dramatically it seemed to Charlie.

Or maybe it’s you that’s changed.

Hogsmeade had been a teenage Mecca for Charlie. He could remember almost every trip here, every conversation, and all the fun he and his friends had had visiting the shops and drinking Butterbeer. His Hogwarts career had been like a Gringotts’ cart ride and his experiences at Hogsmeade the same. He’d arrived at Hogwarts a scared 11-year-old boy and left a confident, secure wizard, with the years in between covering a broad spectrum of experience.

Seeing the shops brought back bittersweet memories; some of his friends were dead, some had followed Voldemort, and some had just run away. He remembered the heavenly scent of Honeydukes the very first time he smelled it, the impressiveness of the Post Office with its menagerie of owls, and, the warmth of the Three Broomsticks where he’d first tasted Butterbeer and then, firewhiskey. He’d snuck down into the cellar where he’d had his very first kiss with the prettiest girl in his class, a feat he’d bragged about incessantly. He’d never been in Zonko’s, though. Charlie despised practical jokes or pranks and always was amazed by Fred and George’s obsession with their wheezes. There were so many firsts (and lasts) at Hogsmeade that Charlie found it hard to keep his mind on the present.

He’d have to face Hogwarts again sooner or later, hopefully sooner since Severus was there, but he wasn’t anxious to dig up those old memories. When he’d left, he’d vowed to leave his youth there, where it belonged. He was a new person and he didn’t need any reminders of who he’d been or what he’d done or what he’d given up. He’d found his true calling and if other people couldn’t accept that, then that was their problem, even if those people included his parents.

He’d considered stopping in the Three Broomsticks, but he really didn’t think he wanted to see how much the place had changed, he preferred his memories to reality. He still had some time to kill before returning to the Leaky Cauldron, and eating dinner, and a walk through Diagon Alley sounded good –fewer memories, more shops.

He found the nearest alley and quickly Apparated near the Leaky Cauldron. For a minute he was tempted to visit muggle London (have himself a nice little adventure), but the last time he’d done that, his father had had to bail him out of a Muggle jail. Not just him, either, he had been accompanied by three of his friends, who thought it was high time they experienced the big world awaiting them out there. It was only because of Arthur’s connection with the Muggle Liaison Office that they hadn’t faced a severe punishment (they’d used an illegal Portkey to get to Diagon Alley), that and the fact that one of his friend’s father was good friends with the minister. That was a good memory and Charlie enjoyed reliving it, savoring the laughter and camaraderie he’d felt then.

He wandered along a ways, coming to a stop in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies. He hadn’t set foot in a Quidditch store since leaving Hogwarts, and even though he followed the league, he distanced himself from it. He liked playing at home with his brothers and Harry (if he was there), but those weren’t real games, just fun. He was amazed at how the game had changed since his departure, and also amazed at how much it hadn’t changed.
He couldn’t resist the pull of what had been his favorite shop along Diagon Alley and when he entered the store, the smell of leather and wood assailed his nostrils bringing with it all the fragrance of the past.

Nothing better than some leather and a little wood.

Quidditch had been his first love. He devoted himself to it, reading about it and practicing all the moves a seeker would need to master. He wanted to be a seeker because it offered the most freedom of all the players and all the glory when catching the golden snitch. He had quite a bit of natural talent, or so he’d been told, and that talent coupled with his drive and determination had landed him a spot as seeker on the Gryffindor team when he was only in his third year. The youngest ever, until Harry that was. He didn’t mind losing that title to Harry; he always acknowledged Harry the better seeker and no one doubted it after Harry’s performance in the Tri-wizard tournament in his fourth year.

Charlie loved everything about Quidditch from the uniforms to the equipment (the golden snitch especially) to the pitch itself - not to mention the screaming fans. He also loved the competition; pitting himself against older, more experienced players was a challenge he relished. The only thing he wasn’t too keen on was the team concept. Charlie considered himself an individualist; he didn’t like anyone dictating his life to him and most team captains were martinets when it came to their teams. He played because he loved the sport, not because he wanted his team to win.

While walking through the store, he recognized all the ways the sport had changed, new brooms, new equipment, new techniques, but the popularity and fan support hadn’t changed at all. He recognized some of the team posters displayed on the walls, and he realized that if he’d made different choices, it could have been his name and image on the posters.

But, by his seventh year, he’d found a new love, one that wouldn’t disappoint and disillusion him. Catching the golden snitch had been replaced by taming a particularly vicious dragon. He might get a few burns and scratch marks, but the end was infinitely more satisfying. On the wall he noticed a rack displaying the hottest Quidditch bachelor calendars, and he scowled.

Some things never change. It’s still a damn business.

And some things were better left in the past where they belonged. He left the Quidditch shop and headed back to the Leaky Cauldron for what passed there as dinner.
He’d spent an uneventful evening and enjoyed a full night’s sleep compliments of the inn and he couldn’t have been in a more optimistic mood as he headed downstairs to plan his day’s activities. He sat at his table slowly sipping his tea and was surprised to see Draco Malfoy (looking none the worse for last night) coming toward him. Charlie had been delighted and grateful for Malfoy’s help. Agreeing to help was a bargain if he won Severus, and if Malfoy was to be believed, assisting in the downfall of Oliver Wood could be considered a public service. He was a little concerned about the matter they would discuss later, but with the carrot of Severus dangled in front of him, how was he to refuse?

When he’d left the potions lab after his embarrassing spectacle, he headed straight for the Quidditch pitch, where Draco had informed him Harry would be doing inventory on the school brooms. Charlie had used school brooms, until Bill had bought him one of his own. When he’d left Hogwarts, he’d burned it.

He found Harry in the storage room, surrounded by hundreds of brooms. He had them sorted into stacks and was in the process of labeling them, when Charlie came in.

“How about you take me for a ride, see how your broom performs?” Charlie teased, winking at him.

“Charlie!” Harry cried delighted. “I hoped Draco would bring you up here.”

“He’s cleaning up the mess I made in the potions lab,” Charlie revealed. “We’ve got a while if you’re interested in that ride.”

“Charlie, please,” Harry said seriously. “I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

Charlie was busy walking through the piles, examining the brooms and commenting softly to himself.

“Hey, I’ve got something I want to show you,” Harry said suddenly. “Over here.”

Harry picked up a broom, a magnificent Firebolt, and held it out for Charlie to admire.
“It’s my prototype,” Harry explained proudly. “And you wouldn’t believe what it can do.”

“Mind if I take it for a test flight?” Charlie asked excited. He couldn’t believe after all this time he was going to fly again. He’d never flown a broom like this; he hoped he was up to the challenge.

“That’s why I showed it to you,” Harry said smiling. “Be careful, though, it’s a little temperamental.”
“Don’t worry, I know how to handle temperamental brooms,” Charlie replied suggestively. He carried it gingerly out to the pitch where he promptly mounted it and took off. Harry followed him smiling indulgently. He made his way over to the Gryffindor seats where he had a better view of Charlie.

Harry saw Draco and Snape approaching and motioned them to come over and join him. He had hoped to have a private lunch with Draco, but obviously he had other plans. Upon seeing Snape, his appetite took a nosedive and he silently wondered what in the world Charlie saw in the man.

Harry watched Charlie fly, impressed with his grace and agility. Harry couldn’t believe he’d heard something that close to a compliment come out of Snape’s mouth and his quip was out before he could stop it.

“You ought to be in bed with him!”

Harry would have laughed at the disparity of the looks he was getting if one of the looks hadn’t been coming from Draco. He still thought Snape looked funny, but he was facing some time on the couch if he didn’t come up with a good explanation or profuse apology.

“I meant that in a totally non-sexual way,” Harry said with a straight face, looking at Draco.

“You’re digging yourself in deeper, Potter,” Snape advised. “This would be a good time for you to remain silent, if such a thing were possible.” He paused for a moment staring up at the figure in the sky.

“However, since you seem to be the only one of us who can vouch for the veracity of that statement, who are we to argue with you?” Snape said, adding fuel to the fire.

“Severus, would you excuse us for a moment?” Draco said politely. He grabbed the collar of Harry’s robes and dragged him off the seats and behind the Quidditch stands.

Charlie, oblivious to the drama below, was having the time of his life flying the Firebolt. He really didn’t like the broom all that much, it was designed for lighter, smaller riders like Harry, and Charlie was having trouble controlling it at times. Most beaters used the Nimbus models and Charlie, with a build more similar to the husky, muscular players, always had preferred them. The maneuverability wasn’t as good, but they were much more stable.

Yeah, and the beaters weren’t bad either.

The view from above the pitch was incredible, he could see all of the castle and most of the grounds, and Charlie realized that even though there were some bad memories, Hogwarts would always hold a special place in his heart. He was getting hungry and so he decided it was time to bring his ride to an end. He didn’t see anyone waiting for him and he worried for a minute that he’d been left. He headed for the storage room, hoping Harry was waiting for him there. When he arrived, three faces greeted him, one slightly amused, one furious, and one sheepish.

“Well, now that the celebrated seeker has finished his test run, perhaps we could all get some lunch?” Draco said irritated, glaring at Charlie.

“Just a minute,” Charlie said interrupting him. “Harry needs to show me where to put this.”

“I can tell you where to put it Weasley,” Draco answered sharply.

“Come on Charlie,” Harry said resigned. “I’ll show you where it goes.”

“Remember what I said, Weasley,” Draco called.

“What is his problem?” Charlie said angrily. “What’s happened now?”

“I said something I probably shouldn’t have,” Harry answered reluctantly.

“Not again?” Charlie said irritated. “Look, if you keep making him mad he’ll never help me.”

“I know, I know,” Harry said apologetically. “Well, at least Snape paid you a compliment. He said you looked graceful.”

“And he’s yet to have me in bed,” Charlie said proudly.

“That’s exactly what I said,” Harry agreed. “I don’t know what Draco is so upset about; Snape seemed to enjoy the comment.”

“You know how jealous and possessive he is, why do you egg him on?” Charlie questioned. “You’ll just have to stop bringing up your lurid past, that’s all,” he teased.


They walked out of the storage room, each nervous about the response of his respective lunch date. Harry knew if Draco stayed mad, lunch would turn out to be an endless nightmare, for both him and Charlie.

“Weasley, I need a word with you,” Draco said gruffly, pulling Charlie off to the side. “Severus, we’ll meet you and Harry up in the Great Hall.”

“Now what?” Charlie said impatiently watching Harry walk away with Severus.

“Don’t worry, all that was for show,” Draco assured him. “I want to keep Harry off balance. I need you to do something for me tonight. I want you to visit a club called “Beaters and Bludgers,” ask Tom for directions, and introduce yourself to a woman named Therese, she works there. You’ll recognize her right off, she’s beautiful, petite, short curly hair, incredible body and if that doesn’t help, look for the woman with all the body piercings.”

“What do I say to her?” Charlie asked.

“Tell her you’re my friend and that we need to have a meeting tomorrow morning at her apothecary shop, find out the name and where it is, too,” Draco explained. “Next you’ll need to square that with Harry, tell him that you’ve agreed to help me with some errands, like picking up some potion ingredients, in exchange for my help with Severus.”

“This is getting complicated, Malfoy,” Charlie said frowning.

“Since we going to be working closely together, call me Draco,” Draco said. “I’m trusting you with something extremely important to me and I have to know I can count on you.”

“Okay, then it’s Charlie, and don’t worry, I won’t let you down,” Charlie assured him.
“Besides if this works out with Severus, I’ll be forever in your debt.”

“I can’t say this enough, Charlie, we have to be very careful about being seen together,” Draco cautioned. “I don’t want Wood suspicious about anything, or Harry for that matter. You do realize he can’t know anything about this?”

“You don’t think he’d enjoy some payback for Wood?” Charlie asked curiously.

“Not the kind I’m about to dish out,” Draco said. “Harry is much too forgiving; he doesn’t have near the vindictive streak I do.”

“Apparently,” Charlie said a little scared.

“Right now it’s off to lunch,” Draco said quite satisfied with himself. “And by the time I’m finished with Harry, I’ll be getting the royal treatment tonight!”
* * * *
Charlie couldn’t remember when he’d had a more pleasant lunch. Harry went out of his way to make polite conversation and was overly accommodating with Draco who, in Charlie’s opinion, was milking the situation for all it was worth. Severus was fairly quiet during the meal, but Charlie attributed that to Harry; he knew they didn’t like each other.
After the meal, Draco offered to show Charlie where he would be staying at Hogwarts. Severus seemed miffed to find out that indeed, Charlie would be his next-door neighbor. Harry bid them goodbye and headed back out to the Quidditch storage room to continue his inventory of the school brooms.

Charlie was amazed by the suite; it was luxurious and tastefully decorated. There was a sitting area and small kitchen with a doorway to the bedroom. It was far more extravagant than anything in which he’d ever lived. There was a door that connected his sitting room with Severus’ and Charlie couldn’t help but smile when Draco demonstrated its use. Finally, Charlie found himself alone; Severus had excused himself to teach classes and Draco had returned to the potions lab. He flopped down on the magnificent sofa, the cushions molding to his body and almost cuddling him. Charlie couldn’t help but feel a little envious; no wonder Dumbledore had no shortage of professors if this was the way they lived. He sank into the depths of the sofa, wondering how things had turned out so perfectly. Severus was mere feet away and he had one of the most cunning and clever wizards on his side, helping him with his dream of winning the potions master’s heart.
Giving away his heart seemed to happen for him only at Hogwarts, he mused. He’d been in love only once before and it had been with someone at this very school. That person wasn’t a professor, though; he was a fellow Quidditch player and Charlie had a hard time even thinking about Quidditch without the whole miserable episode tormenting him.
He had started playing seeker for Gryffindor in his third year. He was pretty good as far as seekers went, but his inexperience had worked against him. He practiced long and hard over each summer, and by the time fifth year came, he considered himself to be the best seeker at Hogwarts. He wasn’t the only one who believed that either; Charlie was a daring, innovative player who gave his whole heart to the game and inspired his teammates with his enthusiasm.

He’d known his captain, a seventh year, since he joined the team, but he had never really noticed him as anything more than an incredible chaser. All that changed in fifth year. After kissing lots of girls in third and fourth year - plenty of them numerous times, if he did say so himself - Charlie wanted to try something a little more adventurous. Girls seemed reluctant to do anything more than kiss and Charlie wasn’t satisfied with what he considered only a starting point to more thrilling activities. He knew several boys who enjoyed kissing other boys and he figured he should at least give it a try, just to be fair. He discovered that boys, pretty much as a sex, considered kissing somewhat tame on the erotic landscape and that suited him fine. He’d never gone “all the way” with anyone, though; secretly he nursed fantasies of giving his virginity (technically at least) to his marriage partner.

How naïve could I have been?

Until he kissed a certain chaser, his Quidditch captain, in the showers after practice one evening. That kiss had been different from anything Charlie had ever experienced.

Probably because all you’d ever kissed were fifth year boys!

This was a fully-grown, sexually experienced man. One whose lips and tongue could do the most heavenly things and whose hands were infinitely practiced in the art of giving pleasure – pleasures that Charlie had only ever dreamed about. It was more intoxicating than firewhiskey and almost as addictive. Every rational thought he’d ever had, fled his mind when those hands were on him, caressing him, stroking him, squeezing him.
God, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

Throughout his fifth year, he’d been treated to the most divinely satisfying sex - sex of every kind (even the “all the way” kind) in every place and as much as he wanted, which was a lot. The problem was he began to fall in love with his captain; sex wasn’t just personal gratification anymore, it was about pleasing and satisfying his partner. When Charlie had told him how he felt, his captain (Charlie couldn’t even bear to think his name) had assured him the feeling was mutual, and for all Charlie knew, it was.
That year, Charlie had flown the best he ever would; after all, he had the best motivation, he wanted to please the man with whom he’d fallen in love. Everything about that year was magic, discovering his sexuality and giving it full reign, and falling in love with someone who, incredibly, loved him in return.

A recipe for disaster if ever I heard one.

And a disaster it proved to be. His captain had been offered a chaser position on a professional Quidditch team after graduation and after losing their final school match, unceremoniously dumped Charlie. The next two years Charlie did everything – and everyone – to separate himself from what had happened. He felt like the biggest fool in the world, like he should have seen it coming. And his love and respect for Quidditch suffered right along with his esteem. Everything reminded him of that disastrous affair, the uniforms, the equipment, the practices but mostly the inescapable fact that he was now captain. He played well, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore; he couldn’t face the showers, the dressing room or the other players who he knew felt sorry for him. He distracted himself by misbehaving, but he hated doing that. He respected his professors and he really didn’t want to disappoint his parents. Fortunately, later in sixth year he met someone – or something – that would take Quidditch’s place in his heart when his Care of Magical Creatures’ professor secured a miniature, domesticated dragon for the class to care for as a project. He fell in love with the little one the minute he saw him and taking care of the pet eased the pain in Charlie’s heart and inspired him to consider working with dragons as a career instead of Quidditch.

His parents were furious when he discussed this decision with them. Especially when they found out four professional Quidditch teams had offered to accept him as seeker. By seventh year, Quidditch was simply going through the motions for Charlie, but he had become so good, that teams were competing to have him sign with them.

Charlie actually considered it; the money was unbelievable, not to mention all the other perks. But, when they showed him the standard contract and Charlie realized he’d be signing his freedom and independence away – not to mention meeting up with the man who had broken his heart – he refused. He decided no one was going to dictate what he could do, when he could do it or how he could do it - Quidditch was out, dragons were in.

He’d never looked back, either. Not until today.

A knock on the door interrupted his nostalgic thoughts, “come in,” he urged.

Severus Snape opened the door and stepped inside and Charlie almost fell off the sofa in shock. He tried his best not to act like a bumbling schoolboy, but the afternoon’s idle musings had brought back all the shyness and insecurity he’d felt as a fifth year.

“Draco asked me to check on you, make sure you settled in alright,” Severus said glancing around. “Although I can’t imagine why, you seem perfectly capable of fending for yourself.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Charlie replied sadly.

“Meaning what?” Severus said sternly. “You know, I despise idle conversation or pointless remarks.”

“Meaning maybe I can’t fend for myself,” Charlie answered rudely, throwing him an insolent look. “I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius.” He couldn’t believe he’d actually said that out loud. He was on the verge of apologizing when Severus continued.

“My, isn’t the Quidditch star testy today?” he said with a smirk.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a Quidditch star,” Charlie replied, irritated.

“But you could have been,” Severus argued. “Rumor had it you had four invitations to play professionally.”

“Four offers to be another piece of equipment, or a marketing device, or a way to make money,” Charlie said cynically. “No thanks.”

“And they bought that nonsense?” Severus said, eyebrows raised, arms crossed across his chest. “There were other rumors, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m into little boys and the morals clause would have been a real bitch,” Charlie said, angry now. “You know, I could give a fuck what other people think about why I did anything!”

“Hmmm, aren’t we a bit sensitive?” Severus said calmly, seeming to enjoy Charlie’s discomfort. ‘I assumed it had more to do with a player conflict.”

“Really?” Charlie answered smartly, regaining control of his temper. “Well, you know what they say about assuming.”

“So why did you refuse the offers?” Severus persisted. “It really was a waste of your talent to give it up, you do know that don’t you?”

“My heart just wasn’t in it anymore,” Charlie answered as honestly as he dared. He looked up at Severus, meeting his eyes directly. “I found something a lot safer for me to love.”

That much was absolutely true, after fifth year he kept a pitch’s distance between himself and anything that threatened the fragile sanctity of his life. His heart was finally mending and he liked it just the way it was, thank you very much! Yet here he was, willing to risk all that again, with no idea why. Actually he did know why; because keeping himself safe meant not really caring or risking his feelings and he didn’t want to live that way anymore.

“The Headmaster wanted to know if you’d be joining us for dinner,” Severus asked politely, as if the previous conversation had not taken place.

“No,” Charlie said. “I’m going to The Leaky Cauldron to get my things and I’ll eat there. I’ll be back later tonight if you want to check on me, tuck me in perhaps.”

He was reminded of the assignment Draco had given him and, truthfully, he was a little excited about visiting a club after all this time.

“I’ll pass, thank you,” Severus answered. “I assume you’ll be here in the morning?”

“Unless I find someone to spend the night with,” Charlie retorted.


“Well, in case you’ve forgotten, staff breakfast is at seven,” Severus informed him coldly. “You’re expected to be there.” With this final remark he turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

You forgot – if I need anything you’re right next door!

With that cheeky comment at the forefront of his mind, he set off for Diagon Alley and a certain waitress named Therese.
*****
The club had proved to be everything Draco said it was – and more. It had been quite a while since he’d had the free time to enjoy himself in such a setting and he found the energy quite exciting. He was somewhat put off by the atmosphere at first, being reminded of Quidditch was still painful.

Therese had been everything Draco said - and more, as well. If he hadn’t been interested in Severus, he might have pursued her; she looked like the type of woman who knew how to give a man an incredibly wild time in bed. After he spoke with her for a few minutes he amended that judgment, she would give a man an even wilder time out of bed. “Quite a handful” was how a friend of his had described it and he didn’t mean the size of her breasts, although they were pretty spectacular. They sat and chatted amiably, introducing themselves; each wondering what had drawn Draco to the other. It didn’t take Charlie long to realize this was not a woman you wanted to cross, and for a brief moment he wanted to slip his hand under her short, clingy skirt and give her firm, round bum a healthy, respectful squeeze just to see her reaction.

She’d do more than leave you tied to a bed.

Therese wrote the name of her shop, Ashcroft’s Elixir Emporium, on a sheet of parchment with the address and directions, and returned to work.

Looking around the club, Charlie realized there was a time when he would have had a difficult time choosing his partner for the night. There were several professional Quidditch players – Oliver not among them – and a fair few literary and musical celebrities. He thought Draco must have amazing restraint not to have found solace or temporary satisfaction in one (or two) of the patrons after his fight with Harry.
It really wasn’t a surprise when he discovered he really wasn’t all that interested in anyone at the club. He had his gruff, potential mate waiting at home (well, in the room next door) for him and as far as he was concerned, no one here even came close to measuring up to Severus. He wondered what Severus’ reaction would be to finding him and a lover sleeping on his sofa or making a lot of noise and waking him up. Would he be jealous, or curious, or offended, maybe? Or would he want to join them?

Now that could be interesting!

Charlie was not the least bit possessive, and if Severus wanted to bring somebody into their bed who was he to argue or refuse? He knew a lot of jealous people, but Charlie did not consider himself one of them, not even remotely. If he ever found Severus in bed with someone else, all he would say would be “move over!” Severus might not be like that, though. The thought that he could make Severus jealous or that he might be possessive was an intriguing one.

Serious food for fantasy!

This club, however, was not the place for fantasies. He had an idea. Draco had revealed the secret password that opened the door to the adjoining suite, and he had a devilish desire to creep in and watch Severus as he slept, see what he slept in. It was time to head home.

Unfortunately, when he arrived at his suite, the password wouldn’t work; Severus must have put a stronger locking charm on the door. He enjoyed a challenge. He’d find a way around it, one way or another.
* * * * *
At breakfast, Charlie slipped the note Therese had given him to Draco. They were to meet at 9 and he still needed to okay this with Harry.

“Don’t worry about Harry,” Draco informed him quietly. “He’s really tired and he won’t be here till this afternoon.”

“What did you do to him?” Charlie asked, hoping for one or two juicy details.

“Use your imagination,” Draco answered, a sly smile gracing his face. “He is free to move about the apartment, though.”

After Apparating to Diagon Alley, Charlie and Draco followed Therese’s directions to her shop and had no difficulty locating it. Draco felt immediately at home, but Charlie hated the place at once. Therese ushered them into her office, and hurried back to the shop’s door where she turned the signed so it read ‘closed.’

“I heard what you did to Oliver,” she said to Draco, grinning mischievously at him.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco answered innocently.

“You are some kind of naughty,” she said impressed.

“Well, I do have my moments, thank you,” he replied obviously pleased with her praise.
“Speaking of Wood, have you seen him at the club?” Draco asked.

“No,” Therese said shaking her head. “Puddlemere’s on a retreat this week, they won’t be back until Friday. They’re getting ready for some big matches next week.”

“I’m sure you’re both wondering what this is all about,” Draco said seriously. “I have plans for Oliver Wood, but I need help, from both of you.” Then he dropped the bomb.
“You see, I have every intention of seeing Oliver Wood banned from Quidditch.”

There was dead silence in the office for a solid minute.

“Banned?” Charlie and Therese said in hushed tones in perfect unison. Both faces showed identical looks of incredulity.

“Yes, banned by the Professional Quidditch League, for life.” Draco announced.

“How are you going to do that?” Charlie asked puzzled. “They’ve got really strict contracts now, and getting banned takes serious wrongdoing.”

“Yes,” Therese agreed. “And Oliver’s contract is air-tight; he doesn’t even have a morals clause like the rest thanks to that completely loathsome agent of his.”

“I took the liberty of perusing Hogwarts library yesterday,” Draco explained, ignoring their comments. “Three players in the last ten years have been banned; one for attempting to poison an opponent, one for marrying a half-giant, and the last, which happened only five years ago, for throwing matches.”

“Throwing matches?” Therese asked confused. “You mean like deliberately losing? Why would anyone do that?”

“One word, Therese, wagers,” Draco answered. “After Ludo Bagman’s debacle at the ministry with the Quidditch World Cup, the league has taken a particular interest in and a strong stand on the betting which surrounds the sport. Players are especially susceptible to the influences of those making large wagers.”

“You’ve lost me,” Therese said, staring at Draco.

“Hear me out, please. From what my sources tell me, Puddlemere’s last game against the Tornadoes had odds of 10 to 1,” Draco explained. “Meaning if I wager 500 galleons, I stand to gain 5,000 should the Tornadoes win, a very unlikely prospect. However, I can help those odds, and thus my finances, by getting one or two key players to make mistakes here and there, thereby giving the Tornadoes the win.”

“I’ve examined the league statistics,” Draco continued. “Out of their last five matches, Puddlemere has lost two, one to the Tornadoes one to the Cannons, both highly inferior teams. And Puddlemere was highly favored to win both. Both losses attributed to lax play by the keeper. That’s one too many coincidences for me.”

“But why would Oliver need money?” Therese asked. “I assume that’s what the payoff is, doesn’t he get enough from the team?”

“Well, maybe not,” Charlie offered. “After the last player was banned, the league instituted new contract rules. They tightened up the morals clause and provided that each player’s salary and other compensation related to Quidditch was to be managed by only the team’s accountant. The teams wanted to keep track of how much every player spent and what he spent it on. They have an allowance, of course, but they still have only a limited amount. If they want to spend money the team doesn’t know about, they have to get it on the side, which would break their contract.”

“Besides, a lot of people wager a lot of money on Quidditch,” Charlie said. “I know people who wager tens of thousands of galleons a match, I wouldn’t put it past a few to try and get an edge and fix the match.”

“You suspect Oliver of doing this?” Therese asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Draco replied. “That may be one of the reasons the team has assigned ‘personal managers’ to him. I found out about that as well.”

“Now that you mention it, Draco,” Therese said finally understanding. “I heard a while back that the team is fed up with Oliver, think he’s an overpaid, spoiled prima donna, but they can’t get out of his contract. He’s become a liability; more trouble than he’s worth. They would love to get him on something like this.”

“I want you,” Draco said speaking to Therese, “to tell Oliver that you need money, a significant amount, let’s say to pay your sister’s tuition. Say you’ve let it lapse and now they’re threatening to expel her if you can’t come up with it immediately. It’s imperative that he believes that you’re in dire straights. Ask him if he can loan it to you, you know how to persuade him. If he’s doing what I suspect he’ll contact his agent and make the arrangements.”

“Are you sure he’ll agree to this, Draco?” Therese questioned.
“I’m sure he’ll be eager to have you indebted to him,” Draco answered sagely. “But we need to force him to contact his agent in this wagering business quickly.”

“Once he’s agreed, I’ll need you, Charlie, to follow him, get photos and names and addresses,” Draco instructed. “We can’t go to the managers with unfounded accusations, we need incontrovertible proof. Harry has both muggle and wizard cameras, ask to borrow them, tell him they’re for a surprise I’m planning for him, he loves photos so he’ll believe that.”

“I’m supposed to follow him around like an investigator?” Charlie said doubtfully. “Don’t you think he’ll notice me?”

“This is part of our bargain, Charlie,” Draco said quietly. “If you don’t want my help with that other matter, you’re free to leave right now.”

“How long am I going to be doing this?” Charlie asked, resigned to his fate.

“Till we catch him and have all the evidence we need,” Draco replied. “I’m trusting your judgment on this.”

“Why don’t you step outside for a moment,” Draco suggested politely. “I need a private word with Therese.”
Charlie was more than happy to comply with Draco’s thinly veiled command; that place stunk to high heaven, and it was so dark and dismal he felt he was back in the potion’s lab at Hogwarts. He felt like he’d been freed from prison as soon as he stepped outdoors.

A few minutes later, Draco exited the shop, smiling broadly, obviously in good humor.

“What makes you think you can trust her?” Charlie asked, confused by Draco’s sudden loyalty.

“We think alike,” Draco answered simply.

And of that, Charlie had no doubt.

End of Chapter