The Sport of Witches
Challenge Twelve: March Madness
Title: The Sport of Witches
Author: seaislewitch
Wizard/Witch: Marcus Flint/Alicia Spinnet
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/R for mildly suggestive content
Genre: Romance/Humour
Word count: 500
Prompt: coerced cooperation
Summary: Flint sizes up Spinnet, not knowing she already has his number.
"Go home, spy," Marcus called, approaching the only other soul on the pitch at dawn.
"I no longer play for Puddlemere," Alicia replied, hiding her equipment bag.
"So they finally realised witches can't play."
"I've set my sights on a superior team."
"Good for you. Bad for them. Where's Wood? Aren't you attached at the hip?"
"I got tired of Wood."
"So, you've come to see about taking me on," he said, crossing his arms. "It's about time."
"You couldn't handle me," she taunted, hands on her hips.
"You couldn't resist my Quidditch-toned muscles."
"That's fiction!" Alicia declared, giggling.
Marcus removed his practice tunic.
"Mmmm..." she murmured, blatantly admiring his broad shoulders, muscular chest, ripped abs and trim hips.
"Why are you here, Spinnet?" he asked, leaning against a goal post to display his physique.
"T-Tryouts."
Flint laughed. "Falmouth has no female players. It's tradition and sensible. Quidditch is the sport of warlocks."
"How about the Harpies? They beat you last season."
"They bewitched us with Confundus Charms -- obviously. That's the only reason they're still flying."
"Flint, you've no idea how capable witches are!"
"I know how soft they feel," he said quietly, moving closer.
"That's beside the point!"
"You try to put on a tough front, Spinnet, but I see those supple curves under your clothing."
She cleared her throat. "Quidditch-toned curves."
Marcus roared with laughter.
Despite the chilly spring air, Alicia peeled off her tunic, revealing clear skin covered in goose bumps.
Flint stared at her athletic figure and then shook his head, smirking.
"That's a very sexy bra," he said sarcastically.
"It's a Muggle sports bra. It's for athletes."
"You still look soft -- yet firm."
Alicia pressed her hand on his bicep. "Hard yet pliable."
A deep groan resonated from Marcus' throat. His hand jerked forward, but he mastered the urge to touch her.
Giggling at his reaction, she donned her tunic and smoothly flew off on her Nimbus 3500.
~ * ~
Hours later, they were running drills. Alicia was swift and accurate. The other hopeful Chasers didn't have her talent.
"We can't play with her, Coach," Marcus said privately. "I know she's your..."
"You'll do what I say you will, Flint," Coach Spinnet replied under his breath. "Spinnet, you're in."
When the coach left, the Falcon wizards eyed Alicia sceptically and turned to Marcus for their cue.
Alicia hoisted her broomstick over her shoulder. "Well, Captain Flint, is this going to be cooperative effort, or are you going to try to run me out?"
Marcus held her gaze.
"She's in," Marcus announced after a while. "Does everyone understand?"
There was a chorus of reluctant agreement from the team as they left the pitch.
Alicia smiled smugly. "You must really want to get into my knickers, Flint."
"You'll have to wait until after I take you to dinner tonight."
"Eight o'clock at Amethyst."
"You're on," he replied. "Oh, and wear a pretty bra."
"If I decide to wear one," she taunted and then Disapparated.
Marcus knew he was conquered.
~ The End ~
Author's Notes: Thank you, ladywhitehart, for proofreading.