Within three seconds Harry knew that this was different from the innocent practice he got in with Tonks.
The Auror had used simple combat spells with striking efficiency, displaying the kind of control you only earned after practicing spells hundreds of times.
Aberforth casted his spells with grace that spoke of THOUSANDS of repetitions. It didn't match up to his brother's performance against Voldemort. Of course it didn't. The headmaster and the dark lord were the two most powerful wizards in the entire nation; no one was as good as them. But Aberforth came about as close as possible.
His first spell was something Harry had never seen before. The curse lanced from his wand like a purple snake, which lashed out, making a grab for Harry's wrist. Acting on pure instinct, Harry used his stellar reflexes to dodge instead of shielding. It was a good decision. When the purple light made contact with the bed behind him, it ate straight through the wood within seconds. Harry had a very strong suspicion that the spell was designed purely with bypassing defensive charms in mind.
Adrenaline swept through his system. He reacted like he was back in the Department of Mysteries, fighting a more skilled adult wizard truly out for his blood. He didn't know how far Aberforth would go, and his body demanded that he do everything he could not to find out.
Harry began with stunners. He always started with stunners. They were simple to use, quick to cast, and people were familiar with them. What they weren't familiar with was when you charged them up full of so much magic they acted like a miniature blasting curse on contact.
The first one hit Aberforth's skillfully cast shield with a muted boom. The old man's eyes widened.
"What in the fuck did you do to that spell, lad?" he asked.
Harry wasn't sure how he was meant to answer that question when Aberforth was still attacking while asking it. The pub owner transfigured a small table into a four-legged hairy spider, which promptly squealed and hurled itself at Harry from behind. Meanwhile, two more charms flew at Harry from the front, one which would knock him unconscious if it landed, and another designed to wrap his entire body in thick cords to stop his movement.
It would take too much time for Harry to block these with a shield. By the time he got it raised, the spider would have bundled into him from the back, ending the duel.
Meanwhile, if he attacked the spider, he'd be an easy mark for spells. Maybe he could dodge these two, but more would come at him rapidly, because he just knew Aberforth wasn't done yet.
Snarling out of a sudden burst of anger, born from a whole day of being reminded of his limits, Harry acted on the only reckless and improvisational plan that came to him.
He turned his body to the side, acting like he would dodge the spells and attack the spider. Aberforth, predictably, kept casting, aiming more spells at the places Harry could end up if he jumped aside.
But Harry didn't dive sideways. He took one step toward the incomplete spider and booted it with a kick from below, smashing his toes into its face. The thing hissed and winced, and while it was dazed, Harry snagged one of its front legs, hurling it behind him.
Aberforth's spells struck his own creation, blasting it unconscious and binding it tightly. Harry banished the thing, sending it flying at Aberforth like one ugly, hairy rugby ball.
The old man didn't catch it, instead banishing it back, but it never reached Harry, who had moved onto the last step of his plan.
He hadn't been certain that would work. It was a crazy plan, where any little problem, like the spider being faster or more durable than expected, would've made the whole thing come crashing down like he would've, bound up like an idiot from Aberforth's spell.
The point was, Harry's only chance to escape this lay in making the duel short and ending it with shock factor.
"Diffindo," he said.
He didn't scream it. This wasn't like with Tonks, where he was trying to lull her into complacency by making it overly obvious what spells he was casting.
His only goal here was to fill the spell with as much power as he physically could.
Adrenaline made it even more effective than Harry counted on. His legs actually trembled, his knees both going weak, while he became lightheaded in the aftermath of casting this spell.
But he couldn't complain about the results.
There was the usual burst of white light. Aberforth raised a simple shield, nothing more than the usual Protego. When the white light hit it, the shield split in half, while the spell kept coming.
Harry saw Aberforth's eyes widen. Harry wondered, for one brief second, if his adrenaline had gotten the better of him, and he was about to kill his own headmaster's brother. But the man wasn't done yet.
"Protego Maxima!" said the old man, wielding his wand with youthful speed.
This stronger shield held up, even as the entire wall behind Aberforth ruptured all the way across, a thin slice opening up through the paint and the first inch of wood.
The instant Aberforth's shield was down, spells were flying. Harry had no chance. He didn't recognize any of them. They cracked through his own attempts at a shield, beat him down, and within seconds he was pinned to the far wall, stuck there by some kind of a charm.
Aberforth approached him with heavy steps. Harry wondered what was going to become of him, now that he'd been subdued. However, the rage the man showed at discovering him with Tracey actually seemed more muted than it had been at the start.
"You're like looking straight into the past," the old man growled.
He stood there glowering at Harry before finally continuing.
"Do you even think?" he asked. "I don't mean those hairbrained plans of yours, kicking things around like a freak athlete. You put enough punch into each of your stunners to blast someone away. What happens when they hit their head? When they bleed out in front of you, and no matter how much you tell everyone it was an accident, nobody believes you?"
"You started the duel," Harry protested weakly.
"That was no duel," said Aberforth. "In a duel, you're supposed to alternate between shields and curses, but you have no timing. If you duel, you're trying to outthink your opponent. You don't think at all. You just lash out with power because it's all you have. It's going to take so long to fix that."
Harry was about to say something snide about how fixing his lack of skill was the whole reason he came to Aberforth but the man shot him down. Only before he could, it registered what he had said at the end.
"We'll be fixing that?" Harry asked.
The sticking charm undid itself, dropping Harry onto the floor, where he landed on his hands and knees. Aberforth looked down at him, still glowering.
"Every Wednesday you'll show up here. Arrive late, and don't make it obvious. You can at least sneak out of the castle, I assume? You better be able to, because I'm not coming to you."
"I can sneak out," Harry said. "But… You're talking about teaching me, aren't you? You refused before! Why did it suddenly change?"
Aberforth couldn't help but glance across the room, at the slice Harry had taken out of the wall.
"I hate powerful wizards," he said. "I hate wizards that want to learn how to duel, and fight, and beat other people. Everyone should take a page from my book: get a goat and settle down. But the only thing I hate more than a powerful, competent wizard, is a powerful and incompetent one." He looked back at Harry. "Those are ticking time bombs, just waiting to make a tragedy. And it's always the ones around them who get hurt in the end."
"Are you talking about your brother, or you?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
Some parts seemed applicable to each of the brothers. Perhaps the answer was both. Either way, Aberforth just snorted.
"Be here next Wednesday," he said. "Now get out, before my common sense comes back."
Harry scurried out of the tavern then, terrified that if he didn't do it fast enough, he'd lose the good fortune that had fallen into his lap.
Tracey Davis had been missing on his way out of the Hog's Head. He had more than his fair share of questions to ask her after the strange, brief, and erotic interaction at the old man's bar, but she didn't seek him out when they were back at Hogwarts, and they didn't meet again until the following Tuesday, when both had potions class in the dungeons.
As many questions as Harry had for her, he didn't ask them here. Not in front of Draco and the others. His friends would question him about talking to a Slytherin. The other Slytherin's were capable of much worse if they caught Tracey talking to him.
He did manage to watch her a little more closely than usual, though. She worked with Daphne Greengrass when the class split into partners. They seemed close enough, but there was a clear gap between Tracey and the rest of her housemates. It was nothing overt, but the signs were there that they weren't friends at all. Harry found that interesting.
It wasn't until they were on their way out of the dungeons, as the class spread out and there were fewer eyes, that Harry made an excuse to Ron and Hermione and doubled back.
His intention to find Tracey worked better than he expected when arms reached out of a room as he passed it, dragging him inside.
The door was shut behind him as he recognized Tracey Davis, waiting in the room's dim light. Unlike back at the Hog's Head, she shut this door completely, even hitting it with a locking charm and another one to dim noise.
"What was the plan?" Tracey asked. "Blunder back, and make an excuse if I'd been with Draco? I'll admit, I half expected you to walk straight across the potions classroom. Thank you for having a bit of common sense about that."
Despite her fairly harsh words, she was smiling. Harry looked around the room they found themselves in, which wasn't quite as dank as most of the dungeons.
It had a few tables which actually looked quite clean, and more strikingly, had chains fastened to one stone wall, with cuffs and collars meant to snap around wrists and necks.
"What is this place?" he asked.
Tracey walked past him, reaching one of the tables and sitting on the edge of it.
"Filch used to use it to string up disobeying students," she said. "Then he got told he couldn't do that anymore. He's still waiting for the day they reverse that decision, so he comes down here and cleans every other night. The chains give most students the creeps, so they keep away from it, and I'm left with a private room somebody else cleans for me."
"What do you use it for?"
"Other than private rendezvouses?"
"Have a lot of those, do you?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
Tracey grabbed his tie, reeling him closer like he was a fish at the end of a Muggle fishing line.
"I'm a Slytherin, sweetie," she said. "All our rendezvouses are private."
She only stopped pulling when Harry was right in front of her. He looked down, while she tilted back her head to look up at him. As ever, she was smirking.
"I've been meaning to get ahold of you ever since Hogsmeade," Harry admitted.
"Funny. So have I," Tracy said.
She gave his tie one more firm yank. Harry's weight pushed her back, where she lay flat on the table, wrapping her legs around his waist. Harry planted his hands on the table to support himself. Tracey leaned up, attacking his neck and biting it sharply. He relishes the feeling for a moment, then pushed his head up out of her reach, looking down.
"Are you going to explain why you wanted Aberforth to catch us in the act?" he asked.
"Did he agree to teach you?" Tracey asked.
"Yes. But there's no way—"
"I knew it," Tracey cut off his disbelief. "Come on. Let's celebrate."
Her head surged up, and this time she captured Harry's lips, pressing her own into his. Harry had to admit, she was one hell of a kisser. Her huge, delicate lips helped.
Again, he was the one to break their intimacy, pushing her back down against the table.
"Explain it," he said. "If you don't, I'm going to have to hold you accountable for dropping me into a duel with an enraged wizard I had no chance against."
Tracey pouted, which did wonderful things with those lips of hers. But she still started to speak.
"Aberforth tries not to duel, but he loves it," she said. "He told me stories. Back in the day, he fought constantly. As much as he pretended he wasn't interested in your request, if he actually fought you, I knew it would get him too excited. He wouldn't be able to help but take you under his wing."
"If that was it, you could've just kissed me," Harry said. "Why go so far, just to piss him off?"
"I told you back then," Tracey said mischievously. "Slytherin girls can fantasize about Gryffindor boys better than anyone."
Harry blinked. So that blowjob hadn't been strictly necessary, but something that she chose…
He looked at the beautiful girl squirming beneath him, eager to restart. She had helped him out rather well.
That deserved a reward.
For the first time, he kissed her first.
As Harry put his weight forward, shoving his tongue into her mouth, Tracey shook with pleasure. His heavier torso weighed down on her, pressing together their body heat and pooling enough warmth to stave off the drafty dungeon.
He stood up, pulling Tracey off the table as he scooped up her body using just one arm. He carried her toward the wall, refusing to break the kiss even as he did.
The moment they got close to the wall, the chains sprung to life, animated by his will. Two snapped around Tracey's wrists, while a collar put itself on her neck. She audibly gasped at the touch of the cool metal. Harry let go of her, and she remained suspended, trussed up by the chains.
"Am I seeing the golden boy's dark side?" she joked.
Harry just smiled as he stripped out of his clothes. His muscles revealed themselves, followed by his cock, already stiff and ready to spear through Tracey's womanhood.
He undressed her by hand, Tracey staring down at his thick cock the entire time, unable to tear her eyes away.
"I don't suppose that this counts as the favor I owe you?" Harry asked.
Tracey managed to snort. "Please. If anything, getting a piece of this ass is a favor to you."
There was some truth in that. It was a VERY nice ass.
That in mind, Harry commanded the chains to spin her around, so that her shapely butt was facing him while her head pointed toward the walls. Harry stepped forward, grabbing her by the hips.
He dragged Tracey down onto his cock, pulling around her body weight like it was incredibly light.
Tracey moaned loudly. He felt her ass compress each time it collided with him. Harry put face forward, nibbling the sensitive dark skin on her back as he fucked her.
"Quidditch is paying off!" Tracey gasped as she felt Harry's muscles bulge.
Harry stood completely still. The sound of chains rattling wildly filled the room as he used nothing but his arms to propel Tracey through the proper motions, lifting her and bringing her down as if she were nothing but an exceptionally high quality sex toy. Her hair bounced, as did her backside, which rippled consistently from the many collisions with Harry's hips.
"Tell me," Harry said. "What favor are you going to ask?"
He timed this question to precisely the moment he felt Tracey experience her first orgasm. Slytherins were exceptionally difficult nuts to crack. But if there was ever a time that they were likely to lose their suave silver tongue, Harry imagined that it would be a time like this.
Despite his strategy, Tracey was still smirking as she threw her head back, resting it on his shoulder and looking up at him while she gushed all over his cock.
"I don't know!" she said cheerfully.
Harry was taken aback (although not enough to miss a beat in his pounding of her).
"You don't know?"
"The time hasn't come yet!" Tracey exclaimed. "So I'm going to wait. I'm going to make sure you learn from dear old Aberforth, until you get nice and powerful. And you know what? I'll even help you anytime you need it with Draco and his little group. So after you graduate, and you become the most powerful wizard in all of Britain, you'll owe a favor to little old me!"
Harry blinked. It was a completely Slytherin line of thinking, yet at the same time, it was a Slytherin all but promising him their full support, even with war on the horizon.
"You don't want Voldemort to win?" he asked.
Tracey's face soured, although her frown lasted only as long as it took for Harry's cock to pound her womb again, at which point the expression promptly melted.
"I'm a Half-Blood!" she said. "Mom married dear old dad, a Muggleborn she met while traveling the world. Her side of the family goes back far enough that I won't be killed… but as long as the Death Eaters win, I'll never be anything."
Her breathing became heavy, and her eyes closed halfway as she came again, despite the heavy conversation topic. Harry shuddered at the way she was looking at him now.
"I need you to win, Harry Potter," she said. "I need it desperately. My entire future is on the line, you see. I'm going to become the kind of witch that no one will dare to cross. I won't destroy my enemies with my wand, but with my connections and cunning. There's no countercurse for that!"
Visions of it were clearly dancing through her head. Harry stepped forward, planting her bust against the stone wall and making her gasp at the cold abrasive touch. For the first time, he moved his own hips, beginning to thrust into her.
Tracey cried out as her body pressed into the wall, his cock beating through her insides in a succession of powerful thrusts.
"I like you," he said honestly. "You're trying to take control of your life. I've been thinking a lot about how to do the same with mine. What do you say we help each other get what we want, Tracey Davis?"
Her answer was an orgasm so intense it made her thighs tremble. Harry thought that was the most decisive agreement possible.
With one more forceful buck, he buried himself as deep as he would go inside Tracey's gooey warmth. He felt her juices all over him, even dribbling out of her pussy along her shaft, while he flexed his cock. A moment later, one unending orgasm pumped her completely full of his cum, mixing their orgasmic juices into a messy concoction.
To Harry, for whatever reason, that last orgasm felt a lot like a signature on a contract.
"I look forward to working with you, Ms. Davis," he said.
Tracey groaned happily.
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