Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Pairing: Katie Bell/Marcus Flint
Summary: Seven months have passed since Katie last saw Marcus. Now a chance encounter in Diagon Alley will remind them both of the feelings they have for each other and give Marcus a bit of a surprise as well.
Spoilers: PS/SS, CoS, and PoA
Author's Note: Sequel to 'Fallen Angel'.
No Denying Fate
It was pure coincidence. It had to be, because if he admitted that there was more to it than that, that Fate might have a hand in their meeting, then it meant that they would never escape each other or this strange relationship that they had. Not that he had wanted it to end or had been doing so well since Katie had called it off. And now, after seven months of avoidance, they had accidentally run into each other in Diagon Alley.
He wasn't even supposed to have been in the Alley, but the drop from his new nightclub had to be deposited at Gringots and Blaise Zabini, his business partner, had been unable to bring it due to other plans he had in muggle London. Which was what led to him being here, standing in front of Madam Malkin's gathering up the packages that had spilled from Katie Bell's hands when they had bumped into each other.
It was hard not to stare at her. She seemed to have grown even more beautiful since their last encounter seven months ago. He cringed inwardly as he thought of the final words he'd said to her that day. They hadn't been the kindest words out of his mouth and he never should have said them to her, but then he never had been the smartest wizard in the world and he'd been hurting. Badly.
His eyes flickered over her face. Her skin was glowing and her eyes were bright, or at least they had been until she saw whom she had run into. Her body was different though, his gaze drawn to the soft curves that graced her figure. It stopped though, on the most radical change of all. Her stomach. It was no longer the flat athletic stomach of a chaser. Instead it was rounded and protruding, a gentle swell of flesh and muscle encasing and protecting the child growing inside her.
"Katie," he whispered, his eyes locking with hers. He stretched out his hand, letting it rest against the swell of her belly when she didn't push it away. Even as she gazed back at him with those chocolate brown orbs, he knew. This was his child.
The feel of his hand against her, even through the cotton of her t-shirt, caused an electric sensation to course through her. She closed her eyes, her body shaking. She tried desperately for control, trying to ignore the feelings that his touch brought. It had been so long though. Not even the thought of his final words to her on that last day could take away the pleasure that she felt. "Marcus," she pleaded, her voice soft.
He could hear the desperation in her voice, the need she had for him. He felt it too as it broke free from the cage he'd locked it in when he walked out of her life. Touching her was bringing him to life. How he'd missed her and the way she seemed to melt when they were together.
With her packages still in his hand he pushed her against the wall of Madam Malkin's, his lips descending on hers, his free hand stroking up from her stomach to cup her breast. He didn't care about the spectacle it might cause or the fact that there were things, important things, which they needed to discuss. It could wait. All that mattered was kissing her and caressing her.
When he pulled away he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him, heading for the nearest Floo entrance. She didn't even think to stop him, not when she needed him like she did. He would never be out of her life, not now that he knew of the life they had created together. And to be honest with herself, she didn't want him to leave. Seven months ago she had told herself, and him, that she couldn't do it anymore, that being with him was too hard. She'd been running scared and when he'd gone, she had shattered. Only the news of her pregnancy had kept her from falling into a deep depression.
At the time she had written him off as an addiction, something she craved but knew wasn't good for her. She knew differently now. He was good for her, perhaps the only person who had looked at her as more than a chaser or friend. And she loved him.
When they reached the Floo he took her bags and told her that he would go first, so he could help her on the other side, should she stumble. "Flint Castle," he said to her, letting some floo powder spill into her hand. He smirked at the surprised look on her face. They'd never gone there, not once in the three years they were together. He stepped into the fireplace, threw down the powder and shouted his destination. She followed a few minutes later and he gripped her in his arms as she stepped from the fireplace.
She didn't even have the opportunity to look around before he was kissing her deeply, trying to burrow inside of her and stay there forever. He propelled them toward his suite, their hands removing clothes and caressing skin as they went. They were frenzied for each other, having been denied this pleasure for months. They didn't even make it to the bed. Once they were naked, he sat in one of the tall wingback chairs and pulled her down into his lap facing away from him.
His mouth was sucking gently on the skin of her shoulder while his hands fondled her sensitive breasts gently, before cradling the swell of her stomach reverently. Her head was thrown back against his shoulder when his hands parted her legs, spreading her open to his touch. "You're so beautiful, Katie-mine," he breathed against her neck, letting her skin absorb the words. "I can't wait, Katie," he whispered.
Her only response was to turn her head to his and kiss him. He raised her hips slightly and entered her slowly. She was amazed by the feeling of contentment that filled her body. For the first time in months she felt whole again. He was a part of her and it couldn't be denied any longer. This was where she belonged. Fate never would have brought them together again if it weren't.
Despite their earlier frenzy, their tempo was slow and languid. They savored each other's bodies, feasting on soft flesh, gorging themselves on incoherent gasps and throaty moans of ecstasy. They moved together, so in tune with each other it was as if they were dancing a well choreographed routine. Her whole body was one highly sensitized nerve, and every place they touched was on fire. Her blood was rushing through her veins, bubbling and boiling with heat. "Marcus," she gasped, her entire body arching in pleasure, desire overwhelming her, causing him to groan and thrust into her one last time before he was as lost as she was.
He doesn't know how long it lasted or how long they stayed there, basking in the afterglow. He does know that at some point they finally got into bed, his large body spooned behind hers, a pillow underneath her stomach to support it. His hand never left her belly the entire time they slept.
Tamesin Flint stared down at the sleeping form of her only son curled around a young blond girl who was obviously very pregnant. She kept close tabs on her offspring and when it was rumored that he had been seen kissing a young woman in Diagon Alley she had immediately apparated over to the castle to see if the rumors were true. Obviously Patrice Parkinson had not been mistaken when she'd said that Marcus was involved with a muggle-born witch. The only question that remained was whether or not the child was his. She couldn't imagine him being with the girl if it wasn't.
Unlike her husband, Tamesin Flint had no care for the blood in a person's veins. That had always been her husband's issue. She was grateful that he was dead and buried. In truth, she had been far too willful a wife for Thaddeus Flint. She had lived her life as normal as possible, but the fear that he would one day kill her for her beliefs and strong willed nature had always been a cloud hanging over her ominously. Thankfully that day had never come. As she stared down on the sleeping forms in the bed, she breathed a sigh of relief that her son had not turned out just like his father. For a while she thought Marcus would never settle down and provide her with grandchildren. Whoever this young girl was, Tamesin knew she was a brave soul to take on her stubborn, sarcastic son. She whispered a blessing over the sleeping couple before waving her wand, apparating away with a soft pop. There would plenty of time later to confront (and maybe tease) her son about this new development in his life.