Love Me Tender, Love Me True

My first HP fic and I am oh-so-very proud of it. I really enjoyed writing this pairing, even though I had to ignore Flint's teeth.

Summary - Oliver Wood, finally able to relax, clues into his feelings for long-time rival, Marcus Flint. Marcus liks him him more than he would ever have imagined. But, once they confess to the other, why would Oliver wish to hide their relationship from the rest of the school? Will a few matches of Quidditch and a gangbeating change the redhead's mind? Or will Marcus just have to be satisfied with their hidden romance?

Disclaimer - I own nothing Harry Potter related except the first, fourth and Quidditch games for PS2, movies 1 through 5 and a Voldy bookmark. So, nah, I wouldn't own much here.

Warnings - boyxboy, lemon, lime, swearing, violence

Pairings - OliverFlint, suggested OliverPercy


Rough hands slide ever so carefully up my bare chest, making my eyes close and my breath falter. You feel my reaction through your fingertips and let out one of your husky barks of laughter. Sighing, I fold the Prophet, crumpling Potter's face. Rolling the pages, I turn, a smile laced ever-so-delicately on my lips and I smack you upside the head, knocking your own smirk from those chapped lips of yours.

"Aww, what's this, then, Ol? Why such a grouch?"

I roll my eyes, leaning forward to grab my second slice of buttered toast. I grumble, a slight growl escaping my lips to notice it gone, sitting nimbly in between your fingers. "Marcus, if you please, I'd like to finish my breakfast in peace."

You only move in closer, your arms going once more around my shoulders, leaving a trail of burning pinpricks that didn't feel all that bad. I huff, but eye the toast that was being offered. Grudgingly did I part my lips, letting you feed me like a child. I feel your smirk graze my ear, teeth flecking against my skin, causing it to prickle in anticipation. You breathe in and I shudder, my lip turning in mild disgust. "I haven't had a shower yet! Please."

"Quiet, babe. Enough protesting. You've done that enough lately. Just finish your breakfast."

I sigh. You can be oh-so-stubborn. But, isn't that what I love about you? As stubborn as a Horntail with a temper to match. So I take another offered bite, but it is hard to concentrate on eating when you are at my neck, suckling slightly, as though I am your meal. I suppose I would be. I always am. I don't know whether to mope or laugh at that realization. I take another bite, making you purr slightly.

"There's a good boy." You leave a soft kiss on my cheek before placing the bread back onto its rightful plate and slipping your arms away from my skin, that same smirk that I used to despise slapped in place. "You owe me."

I send a glower your way and it makes you laugh, causing my glower to intensify until you leave the room, your laugh still echoing through the hall. "Flint, don't you dare go near that broom of mine!"

"Oh yeah, like mine isn't a million times better."


I'm not sure when it happened. I would say on the Quidditch pitch. After Gryffindor started winning, of course. Because then I could see you for what you were, rather than a rival that had to be taken down. You were still Slytherin as I was still Gryffindor. A captain we each were. Sworn enemies through the most of it. Then, in your words exactly, you 'saw the light'. I'm still not sure what that meant, even so many years later.


Trudging through the grounds for the last class of the day, my eyelids droop from exhaustion. It has been a hard week. Practice, practice, practice. I know it is all my idea, but even my own friends can't stand to be around me as of late. I've become a zombie when not trying to be chipper in front of my precious team. They can't know I'm drowning in my own work schedule. I've seen them, trying their hardest to keep up with their friends. I've been pushing them. Pushing them far too hard. But they can have time off after the game this weekend. Large match against Ravenclaw. I can almost hear your jeers now as I know they will sound on the pitch.

"Ready to lose, Wood? You know they'll cream you!"

Yup, definitely sounds like you. I don't realize when I run straight into you until you grab my arms roughly. You see, as of late, I have been so tired, I can't keep my eyes open. I had thought for sure my path to Herbology was clear. Apparently not. I guess that really was your voice. My eyes open and you slowly come into focus, your friends cackling around you. I recognize a few of them from the pitch. Your fingers tighten as I level my gaze.

"Care to let me go, Flint? Wouldn't want your losing streak to rub off on me now, would I?"

I smirk as you falter. Then my smirk slips as you grin maliciously, winking at no one in particular. Your crooked teeth barred, you laugh. "You guys go on ahead. I'll catch up. Just gotta teach Wood here a lesson." Man, why did I have to be so late? My friends? Pah, they don't even wait for me after class anymore. I hear your voice as it inches closer to my ear. I flinch, wondering slightly if you're going to bite it off. "Now, I'll teach you that you can't go insulting me and my team."

"Oh wow, the troll can say something mildly intelligent."

You grumble and I know that I crossed a line that should never be crossed. It wasn't my fault. I just couldn't help insulting you. It was just so ... easy. You were almost a head taller than I and you always use it to your advantage over the more easily intimidated students. But I'm not such a wimp and have been used to your tactics for years as you always tried oh-so-hard to throw me off my game before a match. So I expect your sneer.

"So high and mighty, Wood. Can't wait till someone knocks you off your thrown."

I don't know which shocks me more; how many words you can string together or your monkey hands grabbing my wrists as you pull me away. I start to struggle, horrified that I can't even grab at my wand before you stop, sneer still stuck in place. "Do you trust me, Wood?" You wait for me to squirm once more before rolling your eyes. "I won't hurt you. I promise."

"Then what are you doing?" I spit. You sigh. It's unnerving. Closing your eyes, you release one of my hands and I instinctively reach my fingers down to the weapon concealed in my pocket. You 'tsk' at me before turning, bringing me with you as you still hold firmly onto my wrist, apparently giving me enough trust to not jinx your back. You've never trusted me before. "Flint, we're going to be late for class."

"Who said we were going?"


"You're too good, aren't you? You would never be able to skip a class in your life. Not without some ... help."

"No, no. What are you doing, Flint? Where are you taking me? Would you just... let go?!" You sigh again, rolling your head on your shoulders, undoubtly rolling your eyes in unison. Facing me once more, you growl, ripping my wand so easily from between my fingers, pocketing it with your own.

"You aren't going to class today, Wood. I'm going to make sure of it. Like I said ... I'm not going to hurt you." You lay your eyes on the ground, a speck of hurt crossing your features before you glance back at me. I know I must look shocked. You let me go and head away from me once more. Farther and farther from the greenhouses you go, down towards the edge of the lake. I groan, glancing around. I weigh my options. You still have my wand and I'm already going to be late for Herbology. I could go to class and complain to a teacher that you've been hassling me, tackle you from behind when you aren't expecting it or just skip class and go along with your plots. What would everyone think if I went to class and had to get a teacher to help me get my wand back? What were the chances that I'd be able to get a troll like you down if you didn't already notice my stalking up behind you? Who would have to know I stayed with you?

"Flint, what do I have to do? To get it back?"

"Get yourself under control, first. You could use some straightening out." It vexes me that you don't even bother to turn around as I approach you at a trot. "Don't bother. You wouldn't be able to hurt me anyways. Think of all the bludgers I've taken. You think a fist would be worse than a bludger?" How'd you know I was getting ready to slam my fist into the back of your head? One of those things you just know, I guess.

"Who said I wasn't under control?"

You stop, face me and grab my chin. I'm too shocked to protest as you close the distance between our faces. You don't kiss me, not yet. But your breath lingers on my lips, making them tingle. "You've been falling asleep all day. Someone under control wouldn't be. And your heart wouldn't be beating so fast." Letting me go, you continue the short way to the shoreline. Sitting, you wait as patiently as I have ever seen you, allowing me to catch my ragged breath.

What was I doing? Why was I still here with you? Why the hell did you almost just ... no. I can't think about someone like you ... kissing something. I shudder, taking in your crouched form as you lift a rock in your fingers and let it fly over the still water. It causes a large splash as it lands, grabbing at my attention. "Hurry up and get down here, would you?"

There, that sounds more like you. Impatient as always. I hate that I crave to go nearer to you. Slowly, I let my tired feet drag me down beside you before they decide to fail and I fall, quite unceremoniously, down on the hard rocks, wincing. I'd fallen hundreds of feet to shallow sand and not felt a thing. Why'd it hurt all of a sudden to fall not even a few feet onto my backside? You smirk at the pain on my face, loving every second of it.

"There," I grumble. "Under control." I glare at you as you shake your head, laughing softly.

"I want you to get some sleep."

"I want you to hand over my wand."

"You're too stubborn for your own good, Wood."

You take your prize out from its hiding place and proceed to twirl it through your fingers. Leaning back, you stretch out, gazing up at the sky, wand still doing circles, mocking me. Just out of my reach. I glare at you before letting out a startled yelp when you pull my slight frame down beside you.

"What was that all about, anyway?" I try; shocked at the fact you aren't feeling the least bit awkward. Then again, can a brute like you feel an emotion like that? I highly doubt it.

"What was what all about?"

"Oh, you know very well."

I glance over and see you roll your eyes once more. It's become quite a habit for you today, apparently. You sit up suddenly, causing me to narrow my eyes in speculation. "I know what you need, Wood."

"Oh really? I wasn't aware I needed a thing. Besides to be let out of your presence, of course."

"Oh ha ha. Admit it. You just love being in my 'presence'. Have for a while now, I reckon."

"Oh, of course. I just can't bear to be away from you," I drone sarcastically. "Get real, Flint." Another mask, covering the hurt. "Did I hit a nerve?" A flash of anger and you were on me. I gasped as you threw yourself onto my hips, your legs pinning me down as you grabbed my wrists once again, holding them firmly beside my head. I quiver in fear, wondering what exactly you would do to me. I won't hurt you. "You promised." Why do I feel tears starting at the corner of my eyes? Am I really so weak? Or am I scared? Defenseless, struggling to no avail, with you holding me to the ground. I see the venom that leaks into your eyes.

It scares the living shit out of me

I can't believe how much fear you are sending into me as your hips press up against mine, holding them still as my legs thrash in a worthless effort to be rid of you. For once you aren't sneering at me. Your face is set in stone, trying its hardest not to shatter with your resolve when you see the horror in my eyes. Slowly do you lower your mouth, breath dusting my shaking lips before you take them for your own. Shock courses through me, immobilizing me, stilling my legs, my arms, my struggles. I lay, motionless, your lips against mine in a vain attempt to get me to go along with it. When you realize it is futile, you break away, sitting up, hips still enabling my own.

"I promised."

I can't bear to look at you, my eyes closing as I throw my head to the side. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"That was the reason I wanted you to get some sleep." You see the confusion in my eyes as I turn back to you. My wrists are burning under your touch. "I, um ... I care ... You ... You mean s-something t-to ..." you trail off, looking anywhere but at my face as the faintest of blushes brushes across your cheeks.

"Are you ... saying you like me?"

"Wha-? Uh ... I ... I-I think. But ... I can't, right?"

"You're Slytherin, I'm Gryffindor. You're Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, I'm Captain of the Gryffindors. Last time I checked, we were worst enemies."

"So, you hate me."

"No ... I should, but ..." I attempt to shrug, but accomplish nothing more than a slight twitch of my shoulders. What am I saying? What am I even doing here? What are we doing? You release my hands, but I can't move them, not yet.

"I do really care about you, though, Wood."

"Where's this even coming from?"

"Why do you think I've always been so determined to beat the snot out of the Gryffindors? I always .. wanted to grab your attention. I haven't been doing that great of a job at it so I thought I'd try something else."

"Well, this definitely grabbed my attention."

"In a good way?"

I can't believe how hopeful your voice is. But, something I find harder to believe is the fire that is lashing out at my stomach. I wince slightly, taking a deep breath before grabbing the collar of your robe, pulling you down, crashing our lips together once more.


"Goodness, Oliver, you look horrible! Looks like you tussled with a troll. And he won."

A blush creeps over my cheeks and I yawn, gazing at the floor as my redheaded roommate met me when I made my way back into the common room. I groan as he grabs my shoulder. "Wood, are you alright?"

"Just tired, Perce. The team has a big game coming up soon against Ravenclaw. I'm gonna go get some sleep."

"No supper?"

My eyes go wide. Supper would mean Great Hall which would mean Marcus Flint which in turn would mean you. I shudder. "I'm not hungry."

"If you don't eat, you most definitely won't be up to playing in the match."

"Bring me back a roll or something then. Please, Percy. I'm tired, I've had a long day and I just want to sleep."

"Fine. But, one more thing, why weren't you in Herbology?"

Crap. I forgot to think of an excuse. "Um, last minute strategies popped into my head and I had to figure them out."

"Oh, really? Was Flint helping you with those 'strategies'?"

Busted. "Wh-what?"

"Flint wasn't in class either."

Think, think. Dear God, brain, think. "It's unusual for that..." I cringe internally. " miss class?"

His lips draw up into a scowl, hardly convinced of my lie. "If you say so."

I let out a sigh of relief as the Weasley disappeared, heading down to the Great Hall.


The morning of the match was crystal-clear and the sun shone bright, straight into my sleeping face. I groan, slamming the pillow behind my head over my eyes, wishing the slight nausea that crept into my stomach through the night would just disappear.

"You going to eat this morning?"

The sudden voice that fills the silence makes me gasp, sit bolt upright and swivel around to find the owner of the voice. "Dear God, Percy. Don't do that!" I see the hint of devilish laughter in the corner of the redhead's eye that so very few people have the privilege of seeing. "I kind of have to, don't I?"

"Yes. You know very well that I would have dragged you down to the Great Hall myself if you happened to skip another meal."

"Why," I whine, throwing my head back. "I'm not hungry!" My stomach decides to betray me as it grumbles miserably, begging for food. I moan. "Fine. I'll have a quick something to eat. Then I'm gone. I'm heading down to the pitch early."

Percy rolled his eyes. Why has everyone been doing that lately? "Don't you always?"

I send a glare at him before slowly forcing myself up and out of the bed. Maybe you won't be up yet. Maybe, just maybe, you won't be waiting for me at the Great Hall. Maybe this match will be different than the others. Maybe I won't hear your jeers.

But I just can't be that lucky, can I? Percy's hand on my back as he pushed me in through the double doors, the first voice to reach my ears is your own. I ignore the increased rhythm of my crashing heart, hoping beyond hope that Percy can't feel it through my robes. My breath hitches as I catch sight of your sneer. I glower back at you, causing you to let out a pompous laugh.

"Ready to lose, today, Wood?"

No one catches the hidden seduction that laces your voice. "Just ignore him." Percy hisses in my ear, but I can't help but smirk, the butterflies that had worked themselves into a frenzy dying with each step I took towards my regular seat, my back to your sneering face. My stomach growls once more, supposedly connected to my eyes as the wonderful breakfast appears before them. My ears perk up at noise over the senseless banter of the few excited students that were littered around the Great Hall.

A chair scrapes against the floor. Footsteps approach. A large, toughened hand clasps my shoulder. I don't even have to look up to know it's you. I sigh, in what I hoped to sound like annoyance to everyone but you. You lower your chin down to rest on my shoulder and hiss in my ear, forcing me to suppress a shudder. "Don't go getting yourself beat up by the bludgers. You're not quite as tough as me. I won't be there to sweep up the bloody mess." You wink, causing Percy to glare daggers at you, probably wishing he could curse you right there. "I'll see you after the game," you add in an undertone, barely a breath.

I roll my eyes, barely able to hold back the smirk that spread through my body. I tap your cheek away, the smirk breaking through my defenses. "Whatever. Better hurry up. Your posse might start to go brain dead and worship a new leader."

"Someone sounds jealous."

"Get lost, Flint. I'm not just going to cave like that. You aren't scaring me."

Mock hurt covers your face as you back away towards your own table, your friends laughing and sneering in my direction. Percy stares at me as though I've gone mad. I had completely forgotten he was sitting with me! "What was that?"

"Um… That ... well, that was nothing. Nothing at all. Just Flint being the prick that he is."

"Oh. So, his being a prick causes you to blush like a little girl?"

"Eh? What?" I put my hands to my cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from them. "Shit. Um, I-I'm finished with my breakfast. I'll, um, see you later, then?"

"No, you'll tell me what exactly is going on."

"It's nothing."

I stand, snatching another piece of toast. Percy follows my lead, determined to get his answers. I sigh before heading towards the door, taking a slight detour to move beside you, smacking the back of your head with a smirk spread across my features. You send me a cold glower as I laugh, catching up easily with an impatient Weasley.

"What has gotten into you? If I didn't know any better, I would suspect you and Flint made friends!"

"Well, then, you don't know better."

"Wait, you mean ... you've become friends with that oaf?"

"Let the whole world know, would you, Perce!"

"I'm sorry, it's just that ..."

"I know. Trust me. If you still wanna know, I'll tell you the details tonight."

"One thing I just have to know. A-Are you ... more than f-friends?"

"Perce, we aren't friends."

I laugh as his face falls as he comprehends what I mean. His mouth forms a silent "Oh." as I push my way out through the giant doors leading to the grounds.


We won. Piece of pumpkin pie. Ravenclaws had no ... drive. It seemed like they were just biding their time for the match to end. I didn't get to show off my fancy work. I land and am tackled by a crowd of feisty Gryffindors, ripping at my body, trying to congratulate me. I beam along with the remainder of my team. God, I'm proud of them. I glance over to the change rooms and see a speck of green plastered against the bright siding. You have a mix of emotions on your face. Anger, menace, glee and compassion. I don't know which unnerves me most. Slowly the crowd that has been carrying the team disperses with pats on the back and promises of warm butterbeer and a grand party once we got back into the common room.

"Go get changed. I'll be in a minute. Great game, great game. What d'you want, Flint?" I sneer, masking how happy I was to see you after such a long game. Those butterflies begin to tremble in my stomach and I wonder briefly when they will decide to take flight this time.

"You surprised me out there."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah, I'd say that's pretty good. What'd'ya say we celebrate? Just you and me?"

"You're a whore, you know that?"

"Wood? Are you coming or what? Stop gabbing with the trash! The faster we get changed, the faster the party starts!"

I roll my eyes, tearing myself from the spot those few inches away from you. "By the trees." You quirk an eyebrow. "Meet me?"

"Oh, er, yeah. Yeah, right."

"Go on. I won't let them keep me long." I watch you disappear as I sift through the curtain. That smirk never leaves my face. "I-I'll catch up to you guys later. I just need some ... space after that match."

Grudgingly do they depart, heading back up the long slope to the awaiting castle, reliving the match, making it all the more dramatic with each retelling. I smile, heading the opposite way, sitting gingerly in the grass before the shore. I know you're there before I feel your hands grip my shoulders. You sit with your chest pressed against my back, arms wrapping around my stomach as I am incased in your legs. I shiver as your warmth seeps through to my skin.

"Told you that you were a whore." I moan as you nip at my ear.

"I'm just saying job well done, that's all. I can't stay that long. I'm shocked I gave them the slip. I don't know how much longer they'll buy the "I'm going to go 'congratulate' the winner.' Besides, I wouldn't want you to miss the fun up in the castle."

"Can I skip it? There'll be other winning parties."

"There'll be other days that we can spend out here."

I turn to look at you, shock glazing over my eyes. That's not something I know you to say. "You have the Confundus charm on you?"

You laugh, gripping me tighter. "No. Feels sorta like it, but, nope. All my doing. And, ah, thanks for the slap on the head. I really needed that." You give me a playful glare.

"I know you did. How would the school like it if they found out we were ..." I trail off, averting my eyes.

"Are you embarrassed?"

The words stay in my throat. I feel your smile on the back of my neck, the hairs rising there at the touch. Fire lingers as you disentangle yourself from me, getting to your feet with Chaser speed. "There'll be other days. Hopefully better than this. It's friggin' freezing!"

"Oh, you pansy. Thought you were used to frigid temperatures!"

You pout. "Just because our dormi-dormi-dormi ... bedrooms are in the basement doesn't mean they are cold, Wood."

"Shall I ever get to find out?"

I wink. Your face goes blank and I laugh. The sound floats out over the grounds, but I can't help myself. You pull me to my feet before a voice reaches us.

"Oliver, hurry up. I don't want to be held responsible for your disappearance. You too, Flint. Don't make me report you!"

I roll my eyes as you look about ready to panic, I grip your arm before pulling you close, brushing my lips against yours as Percy comes into view. "What the hell are you doing, crazy man?!"

"Relax. He already knows."

At this, you laugh, sending a wry smirk towards the unsuspecting redhead before taking my cheeks in your hands and pressing our mouths together. I moan, wrapping my hands around to grip your neck, refusing to let you leave me. I feel so needy. A little whore. Your little whore, though, so, I suppose that's all that matters.

"Come on, you two."

"Already trying to be a Prefect, Weasley?" You grate against my lips as my friend reaches us. "Fine, fine. We'll do as you say. This time."

"Not that there will be a next, Flint."

I hold you still as you attempt to grab at the redhead. "Okay, let's not kill each other, please. What are you doing, anyways, Percy?"

"I saw you sneaking off. I noticed Flint hadn't been in any of the packs of Slytherins. I decided to make sure you weren't ... living up to what you told me earlier. Too bad I was wrong."

"Leave us alone, Weasley. What we do on our time is none of your busy-ness!"

"Okay, let's all just go back up to the school."

You glare between the two of us, he's glaring back and I'm trapped in the middle. I always hated the woman in those filthy romance novels that got herself caught in between two guys that were in love with her. Sadly enough, this felt exactly the same.


"What're you gonna do when Slytherin gets creamed?"

You snicker. "I won't have to worry about it."


"Either way, I'm happy. Either I win, or my boyfriend wins." My stomach rolls. That is the first time I had actually heard that word flung out in the open.

"This mean you'll throw the match?"

You snort. "Pah, yeah right. You'll be lucky if I decide to even think about going easy on you."

"Like you'll have much of a choice. You'll hate me when I block all of your shots."

You try your hardest to stop yourself from bursting out in laughter as you pour over your Charms homework. Potions notes are spilled out over my lap and sprawled around me in a chaotic mess. We were back to back in a classroom donated to our 'studies' that Professor Flitwick had been all too generous to allow me to use. It was an empty classroom on the fourth floor, a compromise on our part. We went to the classroom every night.

"Trust me, babe, it would take a lot for me to hate you."

"Like being humiliated in front of the whole school."

"Well, I'll just try not to be humiliated then."

"That'll be pretty hard."

"You still have to go up against Hufflepuff before you should even consider our match."

"Oh, I know. I just don't see why I would have to worry about those weaklings."

"So, worrying about Slytherin this far ahead means you are scared of us?"

"Nope. Just worried for your safety. Well, our safety."

"I'm so glad you care so much about what we have." You sneer sarcastically. "I still want to tell everyone."

"Why? You know that everyone will take it a hundred times worse than Perce. He only left us alone because he's my friend."

"What happens if one of us slips up? During class or something? We forget to hate each other, for that one minute."

"Why does it sound like you've been planning for this?"

I can tell you have that smirk plastered across your face once more. I learn to expect things from that smirk. So I'm not surprised when you shift and grab me, forcing me down so you loom over me. A moan crashes in my throat as I arch to your touch. You kiss me first softly, delicately before your possessive nature takes over and you cause more moans to erupt into the candlelit classroom.



Wet and rainy and cold. Just perfect weather for an important match. A match that could make or break our chances at the cup. I groan as I try my hardest to face the day. Percy still snores away in his bed as I get dressed and ready for the torture. I force a smile when I get to the common room in the off chance that a teammate might be biding their time before heading off to get breakfast. Thankfully no one greets me and the walk to the Great Hall, to you, is nothing but my echoing footsteps and the eerie whisperings of the local paintings.

I want to plunge my face into the warm scrambled eggs that appear in front of me as I groggily sit and await your jeers. I'm not in the mood this morning.

"Hey Wood, weather got you down?"

I didn't even feel you approach. I cringe at the slight contact that you force as you brush your fingers against mine, away from the prying eyes of anyone that dares to look. "What're you doing?" I hiss, glancing down the table to a nervous-looking Chaser. It's only their second game. They don't seem to be interested in much more than their cold oatmeal.

"I wanted to wish you luck." Your breath is warm on my ear and I lean back ever-so-slightly, just enough to feel that you are there, to feel your warmth giving me light.

"L-Like I need any." Why'd I stammer? Do I really need your luck? I just want to know that you are there "to watch me."


"That's all I'll need. I need to know that you'll watch me. You know, I always wanted to grab your attention too."

"Well, you grabbed it, babe."

I smile, my fork shaking slightly. I glance at the head table and notice an early rising Professor Snape eyeing us with suspicion. "Don't you think ... you should go back?"

"Do you need me to come down to the pitch with you? It's a dreadful walk in the rain when you're by yourself." You reply, completely ignoring my question. I sigh.

"You shouldn't."

"I want to."

"No arguing with you, is there?"


"Aren't your friends ...?"

"Who gives a damn about those idiots?"

I smirk despite myself. "Fine. I'm almost done. Let me finish my eggs."

"I can stay here."

"No, that's alright."

"Is there a problem, Mister Flint?"

Gah! I didn't even hear him leave his seat. Apparently neither did you as you pull yourself back up to your proper height. You look Professor Snape in the eyes before throwing your gaze downcast. "Uh, no sir. I was just ... wishing Wood here ... good luck? In his Quidditch match."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Um, no sir. I'll go sit back down now."

"As you should."

You scurry away, sending a glare back in my general direction, but I know it is directed at the greasy-haired teacher still looming over me. "Y-You didn't have to do that, sir." I glare into my harmless eggs, stabbing them with my fork.

"What was he really doing over here, Mister Wood?"

"He really was just wishing me luck. Sorry for disturbing you, sir."

Snape quirks his eyebrow but says nothing more as he returns to the staff table, keeping a close eye on you. A few minutes later and I'm escaping through the doors, into the downpour. Lovely weather for a match. Just perfect. I groan before jumping at the feel of hands on my shoulders. "Jeez, I was only wishing you luck. Am I not allowed to do that anymore, babe?"

The cold of the rain pierces through my skin, chilling me to the bone. Two seconds and already soaked? Lovely weather. You hug me close, feeling the shivers that are already running through my body. Taking out your wand, you cast a spell just over our heads and the rain appears to stop falling. "Now, if only you could do that for me on the pitch." You hold me tight. "Promise you'll leave before the rest of the team comes down, okay? I don't even want to think about what they'd do to a Slytherin in our changing rooms."

"Can do. But, c'mon. Let's get down there so you can get into something drier."

"Like it'll stay that way."

"You never know."

Just because the rain was being repelled, doesn't mean the wind stopped. Our cloaks could barely keep up as we half-jogged to the changing rooms. I had to shield my eyes from the ferocity of it. Safe inside the chilled changing room, you help me out of my clinging robe to put on the uniform that was known to everyone as that of the grand Gryffindor Keeper. I smile with pride as I lay it out on the bench. You look away pointedly.

"Oh come on. You've gotta be at least a little proud that I'm so willing to go out into that." I grumble, giving you a fake pout. You take the soft silk in your hands before draping it over my shoulders, causing a smile to lace itself over my lips.

"Hey, I'm gonna be cheering for you today."

My eyes go wide. "Y-You are?"

"Yup. I don't care what they all say anymore."

"You're friends, you mean?"

"Mmm, yeah. So, I'm gonna cheer you on as loud as I can."

"I thought I asked you just to keep an eye on me."

The drone of unmistakable voices came into hearing range, the team having come down like one mass. "Shit, I don't think you'll be able to get out of here."

"I'll hide."

"If they find you ..."

"They won't. C'mon, sit down. You're ready, aren't you? Just your gloves left? Grab them, quick, okay?"

I clamp my eyes shut, my heart racing as you guide me to sit on the bench, my discarded robe a wet lump on the floor. You hang it up on the rack behind me and give me a small peck on the cheek, bidding me luck one last time before disappearing into the cloak. I could just barely see your feet and that was only because I was blocking them. Seconds after you had hidden yourself, the remaining six players storm into the room. My heart still pounds as though it is trying to break free of my ribcage and I can hear my breath coming in quick spasms. "I can't do this; I can't do this; I can't do this." I start almost rocking. I'm not sure which it is I can't do: Play out in a hurricane or have you so close to me but not being able to do anything to help you.

The moments slowly tick by and I can't focus. I feel like I'm going to be sick. "Oliver? You don't look very good. Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah, of course. Just ... wasn't expecting so much rain."

I go over the strategies one more time before it nears time to be called out. Just a few minutes and we'll be up in the air and I won't have to worry about your getting caught. A minute. Then I hear something that makes my heart stop. "Shit." was hissed behind me before a loud sneeze echoed through the silent room. My eyes go wide. Shit was right.

"Who the hell was that?"

"Uh, me, I'm sorry. Coming down with the sniffles I guess."

"No, Wood, I know your sneeze. That wasn't your sneeze."

"Wha? O-Of course it was me. Who else could it be?"

"C'mon! Let's go! Madam Hooche is calling us!"

The beater who had accused me stayed back a second. "I know there is someone else there, Wood. I could pretty much see them. Who was it?"

I roll my eyes. "With any luck, you'll never know. Look less grumpy, would you?"


"Wood, don't you dare get killed before Slytherin gets a chance to cream you!"

Only I can hear the muffled worry in your voice as I take a third bludger, this time to the stomach. I see white, feeling like I'm about to pass out, throw up and cry all at once. But I can't. I just can't. I go shooting through the hoop with the bludger carrying me on but I shift so it rolls away from me. Maybe it was the rain. Perhaps the wind. Perhaps the mild uproar from the crowd. All I knew was that I was off my game. A bludger to the stomach, to the shoulder and one to the hip. Surprisingly I could still move. Not for much longer, however. The Hufflepuffs have the quaffle and are racing towards me. Where the hell are my Chasers? I can't do this anymore. The red ball comes soaring at me, straight for my face. They were so confident that they had worn me down that they don't even bother to aim away from my hoop. Really sucks that they were right. By this point, I couldn't even catch the darn thing without fear of falling from my broom. So I move up an inch and the red ball collides with my chest, sending me backwards. I faintly hear angry Gryffindors below, yelling at both me for my weakness and Madam Hooche for not stepping in to say that I was unfit to play.

The last thing I hear before slumping down on my broom is the cheer of the crowd as someone caught the snitch.


"You're a different face to see in here, Mister Flint. Is something the matter?"

"No. I came to see Wood. I-Is his team still here?"

"No, I just sent them off to bed. Which is where you should be."

"I-I have to see Wood. Please?"

My eyes drift open at the sound of your voice. Everything hurts but, apparently nothing is broken. I try to rub the sleep from my eyes, but groan with the effort. You come sit on the edge of my bed. "Dear God, babe." you hush, wiping a speck of splattered mud away from my cheek, making sure that Madam Pomphrey was far enough out of earshot. "What was the matter with you today?"

"D-Did we w-win?" I croak groggily. You smirk, taking my hand in yours.

"Is that really all you care about?"

I nod, feeling the pain rocket through my body. "Yeah, babe, you guys won. 200 to 30." I try to smile, but my mouth doesn't work. "I-I just wanted to see if you were alright. Get some sleep and I'll be back again tomorrow, okay?"

I'm almost asleep before I can answer. You smile, kiss my forehead and thank Madam Pomphrey for allowing you in after hours, knowing that if you didn't, you most likely wouldn't be allowed back any time soon.


"Man, class was boring without you today, babe."

"I wanted to go, really. But Pomphrey wouldn't let me. Said that it would be better that I just sleep all day to try to feel better. Did I end up falling, then?"

"Off your broom? Yeah. Don't do that again, please. Scared the crap outta me. I thought you died."

"Apparently I'm not allowed to die until after I get 'creamed by Slytherin'. Thanks for caring." I mock, glowering at you. Your cheeks brighten and you force your eyes back onto your homework.

"I do care. I'm just competitititive."

"Just make sure you don't play like them damned Hufflepuffs. I have never seen them so determined. I hate their determination."

My hand ghosts over the bruise on my shoulder. You feel the shift in my body and look around. That mischievous smirk of yours works its way onto your face and I almost groan. You shuffle the papers away from you before turning, pressing me down onto the floor, removing my homework as well. Slowly, you slip your thumbs under the fabric of my shirt and I gasp as the cooler air rushes at my exposed tummy. Seeing the giant blotch of discolored skin that takes up most of my stomach, you kiss it gently, causing the shivers to rocket through my spine.


Classes as normal the next day. Everyone buzzes about the defeat of Hufflepuff and all eyes gaze at me, trying their hardest to gape under my shirt to see the angry marks left by the murderous balls. And your teeth, but, no one has to know about those. All the attention is unnerving. I should be used to it by now, being the captain and all. Eyes peer through cauldron smoke, professors spend the class ordering attention to the front and you glare at anyone who appears to bother me. All in all, a pretty alright day. Until after supper. You watch me leave by myself and I nod to nothing in particular, but you smirk as the double-doors close behind me. You got the message.

At least you would have. "Expelliromus!" I hadn't even had the time to grab at the departing wand as someone tackled me to the ground, their fist colliding with my cheek. I yelp, crying out in pain as another someone slams their clenched fist into my stomach. I feel the blood trickle down my chin after another unknown figure received their turn at bat. Another punch to the stomach. My head's in a blur. There are four. All I see is green and black and nothingness. Hands clutch my throat, lifting me up from the ground. All I feel is pain, worse than the days prior. I can't even move.

"Great Keeper can't even keep himself con-con- awake!" A Slytherin imbecile. Explains the green. The breath is escaping my lungs, betraying me as I desperately try to move, to get the brute off me, but to no avail. I try to beg your name. Nothing.

Then, rain. Dropping from the sky in puddles, the tears of giants. I struggle briefly, the last of my energy being wasted in a missed kick. My back lands painfully in a pool of muck as the hand at my throat releases itself. I have to close my eyes from the pain and the water that was blinding.

"Montague? What were you doing out there?"

"Drowning a rat."


"Punished the -"

The door closed, shutting away the hopes of being found. Except for the inquiring voice. It sounded familiar. I couldn't place a face with the voice. The doors open once more and I feel the light pour over my pained body. That voice again. This time it is accompanied with hands. A pair of them. Pulling at me as gently as they could muster. The voice echoes a name. My name? Yeah, sounds like my name. Man, my head hurts. Strong arms cradle me close.

"Oliver. C'mon, stay awake. It'll be okay. I'll take you to the Hospital Wing."

I try my best to shake my head. I get my point across with the vain attempt. "What? You're really hurt! You need to go see Madam Pomphrey!"

Again I shake my head. I can't, I just can't. "Ol, babe, you gotta. Please?"

I hear the pleading note before I can comprehend the rest of the sentence. Babe? Who the hell called me babe? My eyes shoot open, only to slam shut once more as a rain pellet landed straight in them. I move closer, pressing my face into your chest.

"I-I have to b-be so-somewhere." I stammer, wondering if you can even hear me. "The ... classroom.... Please?" You sigh, hanging your head in defeat.

"Fine. Can you move at all?"

Without waiting for my response, you get to your feet, grabbing me and forcing me to stand, despite the wince that forms on my features as the pain rocks through me. You cringe, seeing the pain on my face. A quick kiss on the forehead before you hike me up on your shoulders, my legs wrapping around your waist, piggy-back style. You hold me tight as I lay my cheek on your shoulder. You grumble, "stubborn" being one of the words that I catch before you begin your trek. The small group of ravenous Slytherins stand next to the hallway entrance going down to their common room.

"Why d'ya care so much about the wimp, Flint?"

You send the group a searing glare. "He's mine to pick on, mine to hurt. Back off, Montague, if you know what's good for you. Remember who can suspend you from the upcoming game." The boy you are glaring at shudders before nodding, mumbling a quick "yes sir". You take the stairs not yet complaining about the extra weight upon your shoulders. But I know it'll come soon.

It doesn't.

Slowly, you make it to the fourth floor. Slowly, out of breath, you head for the door that holds our room. You open the door with a bit of difficulty and set me down in the middle of the large, cleared room. You move an unused desk to stand a few feet away from me. "Incendio." you whisper, causing the wood to catch fire easily to my mumbled complaints.

"Marcus, I-I don't think Flitwick would appreciate ... your burning of his desks!"

"It doesn't matter", you hiss, securing the lock on the door, turning to me with anger on your face. My eyes grow wide. Consciousness has seeped back into my burning body and I know everything in my surroundings. I'm not in such a daze anymore. You see the shock on my face and your own features soften. "I can't believe they did that to you!" Your voice is laced with venom. "C'mon, let's get you out of those clothes. You'll catch a cold."

Kneeling, you gingerly take a shoulder of my robes and slide it down the length of my arm, your eyes closed as you calm yourself, either from anger or eagerness. But you would die if you hurt me. With each piece of wet clothing that departed my skin, the fire burns warmer against my back. Soon I was in nothing more than my boxers, eyes clamped firmly shut, refusing to look down at my marred body. But your eyes open. You take in each bump, each large discoloration, each injury.

"Thought you said you wouldn't be here to sweep up the bloody mess."

"I wasn't. And that's what has me so ... gah, I want to go kill them for hurting you."

I sigh, taking your chin in my fingers. I don't think before I press my lips to yours. I moan, but, not from anything you do. The action in and of itself causes pain to shoot through my mouth. I almost whimper. Almost. "I-I'm sorry." I lean forward, repositioning myself to sit on my knees. "Let's get you out of these clothes. You'll catch a cold." I echo, repeating your words from earlier, my fingers gripping at your own drenched robes. You force a smirk, throwing away everything else but us, in this, our room away from the world, our world where we aren't enemies.

You let me try to rid you of your robes, but you become impatient with my weakness. A soft kiss placed on my forehead and you are free of your clothes faster than I could have done at that moment. A blush creeps over my cheeks, but you just lightly push me, guiding me back to lie on the floor beside the inferno. The warmth feels so wonderful on my goose bump-ridden body. I see how badly you want to kiss me, to touch me, to make me feel wonders, but you win your internal battle, instead just leaving a soft brush of your lips over mine before you stand. I make a small noise of protest, shocked myself to hear such a sound come forth from my lips but you smile, a finger to your mouth to shush me. I watch in anticipation before you wreak havoc on a second desk, then a third. "Reducto." They splinter, becoming suitable firewood.

"Hopefully Flitwick doesn't mind."

"He doesn't know I come here too, does he?"

I shake my head before remembering your back is turned. "N-No. I wouldn't be surprised if he has figured it out yet, but, I haven't told him."

"Think Snape suspected anything?"

"I dunno if he does or not, but I'm starting to think some people do. Why else would I have gotten beat up?" I sigh, sitting up to stare at the flames from a more comfortable position. You point your wand at the burning wood and it crumbles, falling to the floor in a pile. I feel the anger that radiates from the blast.

"They hurt you because you were an easy target. Alone, in pain and a target to them already. They hate you, as most Slytherins do. But, I think they've gotten fed up with losing to Gryffindor. If they ever even think of doing that to you again, I'll make them wish they'd never been born."

Hauling myself to my feet, I move over to you, wrapping my arms around your shuddering waist. "I'm a big boy, you know. I can fend for myself."

"Obviously you can't."

"They came out of nowhere! Jumped me, the cowards! And I was outnumbered." I bury my face in between your shoulder blades as if to prove my point, ignoring the pulsing pain in my lip.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Nothing will. I've survived so far, haven't I?"

You hang your head before releasing my grip, pulling me back to sit in front of the fire, going over to open a window to let out the smoke. Coming back, you lay me down on my side, your arm wrapping around my sensitive stomach, your nose breathing in my scent as it presses against my neck. I yawn, overcome with a strong wave of exhaustion. Warmth covers me, fire from the front, and your body from the back. I'm dry before I know it, my clothes taking a slight while longer, but drying all the same. Giving up your arm as a pillow, I pile the dried garments beneath my head, feeling sleep begin to overwhelm me, my eyes flickering, the fire crackling softly as it died. You think I'm asleep, leaving a gentle kiss on my temple before whispering in my ear;

"I love you, Oliver Wood."

"Ya'know, I think I love you too."


"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Wake up!"

I push your arm away from me, the fire down to naught but a light puff of smoke and a small orange ember. You moan, grumbling groggily at my irritated tone. "Wassa matter, babe?"

"What's the matter? What's the matter?! Gah, Flint, we're going to be late for class! And, everyone will know we slept together! Oh my God. Ugh, and everything still hurts."

"Can't we jus' ... stay 'ere?" You yawn, wiping at your eyes, rolling over onto your back. "Besize, you shouldn't be in class, t'day. You gut beat up. No shape ... no ..." Your eyes close and a snore escapes your mouth. I throw my head back in exasperation.

"Get up, you lazy thing! We've gotta go!"

"Mm, yeah. Jussa few more ... minutes."

"Fine. You be late. I'm not getting in trouble for you."

I grab my robes, pushing you away when you attempt to cling to me. Hastily stuffing myself inside the wrinkled clothing, I hop about, my foot getting stuck in my pants. "Gah! I don't have time for this!" I hear you snort, trying to suppress your laughter as you sit up to watch the spectacle. I send a chilling glare at you which only causes you to laugh harder.

"That's cute, you know. I like your 'I'm late!' dance. Do it often?"

"I like you better when you're asleep, you know!" I grumble, checking to make sure my watch is in its safe, regular spot. Satisfied, I head for the door.

"Forgetting something?"

"Nope, not that I can see."

You push yourself to your feet, leaving your previous sitting position. "Aww, what about my good morning kiss?"

"Ugh, do I have to? I have bad morning bre-" You don't let me finish my complaint as you press your lips to mine, tongue slipping out to caress the bulge that had appeared over the cut on my lower lip. I moan, shuddering at the feel. You pull back a few seconds later, leaving me breathless. "Morning breath. Bleh."

"I'll see you in class then, babe?"

"Yeah. If you make it."

"Oh I will. Love you."

The words sound so foreign still, even after hearing them for the first time the night previous. Blush creeping once more over my cheeks I stammer at the door, fingers glued around the handle. "I-I love you, t-too." I wasn't planning on waiting for you to get dressed, but I do. Beginning to tap my foot in impatience, arms crossed loosely over my chest, I glare at you as you seem to move slower rather than faster. "C'mon, Marcus. We don't really have all day, you know." A mischievous gleam works its way into your eyes.

"Oh, I know. Just thinking it would be nice for us to go to class together for once."

"Aww, you've got to be kidding! You're doing this so people will find out?"

"Why not?"

"Because you know I don't want to be hounded about it!"

"Well, fine. Leave. Go on. Get out. I'll make sure to take my sweet old time. Maybe even skip class. Just so you won't have to be 'hounded'." You glaze your words with hurt. I groan, knowing what trick you're pulling, but falling for it all the same.

"Don't be like that, Marcus. Please? You know I didn't mean anything bad by it. I really do love you, you know."

"Then start acting like it! When we're out of this room? When we're not alone? Show me you love me when everyone will see. I want the world to know that I love Oliver Wood. Apparently he doesn't feel the same way." You glare at the floor, zipper still unzipped, shirt still unbuttoned, a great piece of work, if only through my eyes. Not even you could fake the amount of pain that your words held, how much truth. You spill your heart out for me, but I can do nothing that would make us both happy. I move closer to you, wondering if you would lash out at me, strike me even. You stand motionless as I wrap my arms around you, my cheek resting almost on your shoulder. I feel horrid, my insides caught fire once more, threatening to burn my whole body down to escape.

"Marcus ... it isn't like that. I don't like all this hiding, I really don't. But just think what would happen if we did tell the world. You think they would just let us be? I highly doubt that. Think of who we are! People count on us to be enemies."

You let your arms go around my back, laying your cheek against my hair. "This... is the best we'll be able to do, isn't it?"

"For now. I promise. I promise that, before the end of the year, people will know and accept that we are together. They will leave us alone. We will be able to go without sneaking. We can be normal."


"Why don't we go to class now? Before we both get a detention?"

I can hear the roll of your eyes in your voice. "I suppose I could do that. Can I finish getting ready, though?"

"Good idea."


"How about we make a bet?"


Why do you always smirk? If you didn't smirk, I wouldn't know that I was about to regret something. But I humour you. I always give in. "Yeah, a bet." You sound so excited although there is a twinge of nervousness, like you've been waiting to say what you're about to say for a long time. "The match against Hufflepuff is tomorrow, right? What do you say ... if Slytherin wins ... how 'bout we ... erm, we ... ugh, nevermind. Forget it."

"No, what? You never know. I might go along with this bet." I turn to face you and chuckle at the redness of your cheeks. "What did you have planned, love?" I hush in your ear, causing the blush to spread farther, faster.

"If S-Slytherin ... If I win ... We ... I dunno ... do it. Do it. Erm ... See? Stupid idea."

"It's not stupid. It's good motivation, right?"

Your smile is sheepish, as though you are afraid that I'm going to run from the room, crying and screaming like a girl. My arms slither around your stomach, kissing your neck softly. You shiver at the touch, moaning slightly as I move the collar of your robes away, suckling softly on the patch of sensitive skin there. "W-Wood, What're you d-doing?" You ground out, your fingers brushing my cheek as I begin to leave a mark. "I-If anyone sees that..."

"Lie." I hiss, my breath dusting over your skin, causing another shudder.


"Aww, Wood, you aren't even gonna wish me luck in the match today?"

I wave you away grumpily, ignoring your complaints of being a horrid rival if I won't even insult you or wish you to fall from your broom or get pelted with bludgers. You sigh, scraping your chair against the floor as was routine on match day. No one is sitting in the Great Hall besides for the two teams competing, going over last-minute strategies. You decide to sit down beside me, back to the table, eyes on your team.

"C'mon, babe. Cheer up." In your voice, the tiniest hint of anticipation can be heard. I sigh, picking up a slice of toast, glancing over at the group of Hufflepuff players. You follow my gaze. "I can't wait to cream them. I've already given the order to hold no hostages. None of those idiots will be safe." My eyes grow wide.

"What? Why're you gonna ..."

"I told you, no one is allowed to come near you. You're mine. If anyone hurts you, they will pay. I'm pretty sure they did a little more than hurt you, babe."

"So ..." I gulp. "You're gonna hurt them."

"Legally. But, it won't really be me that hurts them. Unless I can't help it and haul off to punch someone. You don't sound too pleased."

"I'm not."


"They played dirty, they acted unlike anything I've seen from Hufflepuff, but, they played. That's all they were doing. Madam Hooche didn't see anything wrong with their performance. We still won, so, I don't see the big deal."

"The big deal is," you move your hand to my stomach, pressing on it lightly, etching the spot where the bludger had struck, before outlining my hip and shoulder. "They hurt you and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Every time that bludger went anywhere near you, I held my breath, wishing it would just explode before it hurt you any more! When you fell from your broom... God, I was just about ready to drop because there was nothing I could do!"

"What do I do if you get hurt today?"

"I'm used to taking a bludger or two."

"Won't make it any easier for me."

You smirk and I can see it in your eyes how badly you just want to grab hold of me to keep me safe. A slight glisten of malice flashes as you glance to the yellow-clad players. "If everything goes according to plan, my beaters will be knocking those pricks from their brooms too much for the bludgers to come anywhere near me."


You nod. "Our bet still on?"

"Well, it isn't really that much of a bet. It's more like, 'when I beat Hufflepuff' rather than if."

"Fine, our deal?"

I smile, watching a few drowsy Gryffindors saunter through the doors, rubbing their sleep-filled eyes. "Yeah, I'd say it's still on."

"Come to the pitch with me?"

I give an overdramatic sigh, rolling my head on my shoulders. "I suppose. I'll be out when I get my next piece of toast."

"Stupid toast addict."

"I can't help it if it is good food!"

"I'll be waiting, babe." Whispering the last word in a seductive hush, you stand, a wink in your eye and that plotting smirk on your lips. A second is spent to converse with your confused team before heading out through those doors as more sleepy students enter. I gauge my time, waiting for another group to plod in, blurring the ghost of your image farther. Still feeling the whisper of breath against my ear, I follow, a lovesick puppy being drawn by a silent siren song.

"Boo," you sigh, appearing at my side as though you always stood there as I feel the gravel crunch beneath my shoes.


"Only one more match of the season, folks! The one everyone has been waiting for! Both teams, so far undefeated! Slytherin verses Gryffindor!"


"Well, now, seems you did better than I did."

"Oh? How so?"

You beam, skipping a rock across the still, dark waters. Still do you radiate the energy of a star Quidditch player, the excitement of the game coursing through your veins. You flex slightly, daring me to come note for myself that you sustained no injury.

"You didn't get hit once; you got about fifteen shots on your own. Poor Hufflepuff didn't know what to do with themselves. Poor things were getting wheeled off to the Hospital Wing faster than they could be carted away."

"It was only fourteen, actually. And, did you see that wicked punch of mine? Glad Hooche didn't. Would've been chucked out of the pitch faster than I could sneeze."

"Yeah, that was pretty violent."

"Did it for you, though."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks."

I smile, despite the fact that I still believe that the team was just doing their job of winning. Sitting up, I face you, hands on your knees. I slide my hands gently down your thigh to the tops of your jeans. You gape at me, not comprehending what I was doing until your belt was undone. You are still left speechless, trying so hard to let out some sort of noise that is something more than a moan.


"I'm keeping up on my end of the deal. You won. You win. Simple."

"S-So confident." You groan as I grip the rims of your pants, pulling them to your ankles.

"Shoes. Damn shoes." I growl, my voice a husky rumble as I rip the shoes from your feet, slowly dragging your socks along with them. I'm such a tease and I know it, feel it as you moan, your pants slipping off to join your footwear in the grass. My lips brush up your calf, leaving gentle hints of kisses. My tongue runs along your thigh, my fingertips lodged in the elastic band of your boxers. You squirm in anticipation, barely daring to breath. Or maybe you aren't able.

You sigh my name, a whisper on the wind. Free of its restraints, your manhood stands to attention, begging me to rid it of its duties. I comply, taking you into my mouth and your legs spasm around me. Our hands mesh in the soft blades of grass, you moaning my name, my tongue brushing over your erection like an expert. Your legs contract, pressing against my shoulders in need.

"O-Oliver. ... W-Wait." you pant, trying to get my attention. I moan, the feeling of the moment swirling around my head, making me dizzy. I sit back on the balls of my feet, almost wincing from the pain of trapping my own throbbing erection, a pout cracking my lips. You look upset at my hurt expression, but wipe a spot of saliva from my bottom lip.

Your fingers brush the hem of my shirt, my robes already in a neat pile along with your own. You lift it slowly, cautiously. It gets tossed in the same pile as your pants, shoes and socks, soon being joined hastily by your shirt. I'm on my back, our chests pressed together, your knees caging my abdomen. Your rock-hard errection pressing into my skin, making me moan at the heat it generates.

"M-Marcus." I moan again, your mouth on mine, your tongue begging entrance and I greedily allow it. You kiss me, deep and passionate, something, months ago, I would never have suspected from you. Whining when you break away from me, I gasp when your teeth clamp down on the sensitive skin at the base of my neck, suckling and biting, soon to cause an angry red mark on my flesh. I moan, bucking my hips slightly as you are satisfied you have marked me as your own.

My back arches as your mouth travels down, your teeth clamping onto my nipple, your fingers finally taking up the dance, unbuckling my belt. I kick my shoes away, begging you with my moans to hurry up and let me feel you against me. "Marcus." Your name is a hiss of air being released through my clenched teeth as I am left in naught but my own boxers until, they too, join the pile of discarded clothes.

"I-I wanted you t-to wait ... because ... I wanted .... to be ... inside you." you pant, causing that forgotten fire to shred my insides. I moan. "Is that a ... yes?" A second moan, arching my back as you run your hand over my skin. Just the touch alone is almost enough to rocket me over the edge. But I stop myself as best I can, feeling you grip my hips.

"I want to ... see you." I moan out.

Your fingertips brush over my thighs, running down to my knees before lifting them onto your shoulders. I wonder how they don't slide right off from all the sweat that lines our bodies but I don't voice the question, supposing it is just the flood of euphoria that is making me think such foolish things. You put your fingers to your lips but I shake my head, whimpering as words fail me. I open my mouth, sucking when you place three fingers inside. I brush my tongue against them, causing you to moan, throwing your head back. A line of saliva still drips from your digits as you bring them from my mouth. Slowly, carefully, you prod at my entrance, slipping a finger inside me. In, out, in, out. You lean forward, pressing your lips to mine in an effort take away the pain as your second finger prods inside my body. A third and I moan out of both pleasure and pain, but, by this point, all I feel is you, nothing else matters but you.

"Marcus." I moan your name as you enter me, causing me to wince at the feel. Your lips are on mine once more.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." You chant, slowly rocking your hips, trying your hardest not to hurt me. But I rise to meet you. That chant slides over me and I repeat it, until our voices are one. You grab my forgotten erection and pump it to our rhythm Sweat beads on your brow, dripping down to the corner of my wide-open eyes that are staring straight at you. You are my world. With a cry of my name, you explode inside me. Seconds later I moan out your name, coating our stomachs in my essence. "God, Oliver Wood, I love you so much."

Panting, you try desperately to steady your breath, steady your raging heart. You let my legs slip from your shoulders, catching them before they fall to thud on the ground, placing them softly in the cooling grass. Placing a soft kiss on my lips, you pull away from me, causing me to moan. You fall beside me, sweat-drenched body still heaving slightly. Mine is the first to still and I shamble slowly to my feet, smirking at the hint of a whimper leaving your lips. I don't say a word as I saunter towards the water, slipping in as though it wasn't freezing. It was still only spring after all. I go up to my knees before crouching, loving the feel of the water rushing over my body, cooling the fire of my behind. I blow bubbles, closing my eyes before turning to you, only to be surprised you were already in front of me. You kiss my forehead, sitting on the lakebed.

"That," you sigh happily, throwing your head back to gaze at the shifting clouds. "Was amazing."


"Oooh, Oliver, good timing! We were just talking about you!"

I groan, not in the mood for tricks from a pair of twins that were the younger brothers of my best friend and also the gifted beaters on the team. "Fred, George." I nod, trying to work my way up to my awaiting bed after a full afternoon with you. You had refused to let me leave you to your celebrations, saying that I was the only thing you needed to celebrate. I yawn tiredly, pushing past the duo.

"Oliver has a secret. Oliver has a secret." They chime and I stop, glaring back at them. As one, a giant smirk spreads across their features. "Oliver has a very big secret that he wants no one else to know about, isn't that right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I hiss, stomping up the spiraled stairs.

"Oh, but you do, you do."

"Come with me." I sigh, glancing around nervously, expecting the whole house to be gawking at me. Knowing there was no escape from the inquiring Weasley beaters, I lead them up the stairs and I lay lazily upon my bed, shocked that Percy was already up here, studying fiercely.

"Nice of you to finally join us." He hissed, jealousy and hurt lining his words. Fred sat on one side of my legs while George took up the other side, caging me on the bed. They are determined to get anything out of me that they can. Both seem to be shaking with anticipation.

"It was Flint!"

"What?" I ask in true confusion.

"The person from the changing rooms! It was Flint!"

"What makes you think that?"

Two sets of eyes roll as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We saw you, we did."

"Doing what?"

"Snogging the troll."

My eyes narrow instinctively in annoyance. "And where would you have seen something like that?"

"Today. Down by the lake. Saw the two of you gettin' down and dirty, we did."

"Of course you did. Must have been a trick of the light, only looked like me or him."

"Nope. We know what we saw, Oliver. You can be stuck in denial. We honestly don't care what you do. All we wanna know is that the upcoming match won't be affected by your little ... love affair." A shudder runs through the two boys at the thought. "Promise? We won't lose the game because you want your ... boy-toy to get all the goals. Then again, from what we saw, you looked more like the toy."

My nose wrinkles in mild disgust. "I don't think I was a toy. But, whatever. The match will be greatly affected by my relationship with Marcus." I try to keep my voice level, void of any betraying emotion. A smirk plays on my lips as their faces fall.

"Oliver! You can't just throw the match like that! You're saying that you're gonna lose on purpose?! On the last match of the year?! We'll lose the cup! You'll just sit back and do that?"

"Now, I never said anything about letting him win, did I?" I glance to Percy as if to prove my point, but his nose is struck firmly in his homework, quill in hand.

"What're you playing at, Wood?"

"You don't think the match will be all that much better? For all of us. And the fans. Of course, no one will know that I and Marcus are no longer enemies, correct?" I quirk my eyebrows, praying that the twins will go along with me. But their faces are drawn in a pout.

"Why would it be better?"

"Think of how competitive both Flint and I are. You expect either of us to just lean back and watch the other disappoint his team and his house? Like you said: biggest game of the year. And we're gonna win."

"Can we still clobber him?"

"Do whatever you can to win."


"Only if you promise not to tell a soul."

"Deal!" They both squeal excitedly. Jumping up from my bed, they scurry away, down the stairs into the common room.

"You know they are still going to rat you out, right?"

"Oh, Perce, nice of you to join us." I mock, glaring at him. "I was expecting you to have my back in that, thank you very much! I doubt they'll say a word. I think they kinda respect me."

"You mean used to respect you."


Percy shudders, an image of you undoubtly popping to the forefront of his mind. I glare at the Weasley, sighing and putting my back to him as I roll over. He begins to explain, but I ignore him, mumbling a muffled "g'night" before undressing down to my boxers for the second time today and crawling in under the covers.


"Seems like they're keeping up on their side of the bargain. Still can't believe that you sold me out to them though."

"Don't you think people would find it sort of suspicious when the Chaser with the quaffle didn't get hit, but the ones without did?"

"But you know they'll go after me! They despise me!"

"They hate the whole team."

"Call them off?"

"No can do."

"Well, either call them off or I'll tell the whole school."

I attempt to hide my smirk. "Aww," I whine. "But, if you were to tell everyone, what would you do after the match on Saturday?"

"What do you mean?" You inquire, snapping to attention just as I knew you would.

"I was thinking," I start, stuffing my voice with girlish innocence. "That maybe, since our last bet had such ... wonderful results ... Maybe we could ... make another one?"

"L-Like what?"

My back is to you as always, but that doesn't stop me from hearing the arousal that has worked its way into your voice. "Well... I was thinking ... Say Slytherin manages to win..."

"Go on. I like the thought of my team winning."

"Slytherin wins ... you get to have your way. We'll tell the whole school right then and there."

"And if I lose?"

"That's the good part. If you lose, no one is ever allowed to find out again."

"But, that's not fair!" You cry, shifting to face me, your eyebrows raised and your features showing shock. I pout.

"How is it not fair? You win, you get your way. I win, I get my way."

You seem to contemplate it, thinking over the end results carefully. Taking on my pout, you hang your head in defeat. "Fine, babe, you have a deal."

My face breaks out in a large grin. "C'mon love. Cheer up." I mock, kissing you gently.


"Today's the big day, Wood. You scared?"

"Not all that much, no."

You sit beside me in the Great Hall once more; a few more students piled in than normal this early in the morning. My team sits a couple of seats down, not a word going between them, chancing nervous glances towards me.

"Not scared that you'll lose?"

"I have faith in my team. I know they won't let me down." I say it just loud enough for them to hear. Chasers gawk, Seeker stares, transfixed, at his oatmeal, Beaters craving to tell all.

"Are you almost done? I want to go down to the pitch."

"I'll catch up."

"No, I want us to go together."

Sighing, I stand, pointedly grabbing my traditional slice of toast. I can see the hand at your side itching to grab me as I walk slightly behind you, far enough away to not look all that suspicious. By the time we make it away from prying eyes, you can no longer resist the urge and grab my hand, holding it firmly, as though to never let me escape.

"You know, I was thinking ..."

You groan. "I'm scared of your thinking. Gives too many options."

"Ooh, but, this one gives nothing but good results."

"Oh really now? What is it this time?"

"Well, you're a Chaser, I'm a Keeper."

"Have that part down pat already."

"You'll be trying to score on me and I'll be trying to stop you."

"Got that memorized, too."

"Well, how about ... for every goal you get past me, you get to do something to me."

"What sort of something?"

"Don't sound so skeptical. Anything you want. You could punch me, curse me, bite me, mark me, anything. My body is yours for the taking."

"I like the sounds of that. Except for the fact that all of those sounded painful. What's the catch?"

I smirk, causing you to stop and make me turn towards you. "What's the catch?" you repeat.

"It's only fair. For each shot I block, I get to do something to you."

"So, you'd get to do anything to me, just like I'd be able to do anything to you?"


"You smart little whore, you!"

Rolling my eyes, I drag you still closer to the pitch. "Be glad that I'm your whore, right?"

"Course, babe, course."


"He's not in here again, is he?"

I shake my head. "Nope. We're the only ones today. Because we're gonna win." In an undertone I add to the twins "Go all out. I see you've kept your promise. Just um, don't kill them, alright."

"No guarantees, Oliver!"

I scowl, watching the two boys laughing and getting their robes on and adjusted, grabbing their bats. Beginning my traditional motivational speech, I feel a rock of anticipation dropping through my stomach. We hear our signal and are off, rocketing out the door with pent up adrenaline. Madam Hooche blows her whistle sharply to call us all down to the grass.

"Captains, shake hands."

I stride forward with pride as you smirk, extending your hand towards mine. "Good luck, Wood. You're gonna need all of it you can get to stop us."

"I still have faith in my team. You aren't even going to get near the goals."

"That's what you think."

"Okay, enough. Mount your brooms, get into position."

I glide to the three goal hoops, my hand still burning from your tight grip on it. The bludgers take off along with the snitch. Hooche releases the red ball, taking it in her hands before causing it to take flight towards the sky ... right into your hands. Even from this distance I can see the wide smirk that lights up your face as the ball gets tossed toward a green-clad teammate of yours.

"C'mon, c'mon. Throw it. Throw it, Marcus." I hiss, attempting to predict your movements before you take them. As if to prove my thoughts, the ball is shot back into your hands. You attempt to fake me out, aiming for the left hoop. I have fallen for that trick so many times before that I don't start to head for a hoop, hovering in the middle, until you raise your hand to get the ball into the goal. "Gotcha."

Tossing it instead into the middle goal, as I knew you would, I rush towards the soaring ball, grabbing it. The crowd gasps as I almost let it slide through my grasp, but it holds fast. "There's one." I call, causing you to glower. I toss the ball to an awaiting Chaser and she is off, racing down the pitch, the red blur being lost in her crimson robe as it flutters behind her. I hear the crowd cheer, a loud moan coming from the Slytherins as Gryffindor scores the first goal of the game. Soon enough, the ball rockets back, in your hands once more as you approach. I smirk. "Not gonna get it, Flint." I growl, the competitiveness leaking through my voice. We lock eyes for a minute and that spark that we used to have, the crack of rivalry, split through the air. I narrow my eyes. You shoot, I'm too quick. I almost shake when I feel the material on my fingertips, the only part of my hand not covered in a leather glove. "That's two!"

"Man, Flint must be off his game today, folks! Twice in a row he tried to get past Wood and he failed!"

This time, the plays didn't go as smoothly. A bludger flies from a Slytherin bat, barreling towards the poor girl who is trying her damndest to get down the pitch to score a second goal. The rocky ball collides with her shoulder, causing her to let the quaffle drop from her grasp with a cry of pain. Worried for the safety of my star Chaser, I lose sight of who commands to red ball until it is too late. I see the crimson clash with your emerald robes as you ready it for flying. I lunge, missing it by the skin of my teeth.

"That's one." You howl, laughing at my disappointment.

"It won't happen again, Flint!"

The game wore on. Finally the sharp whistle from Madam Hooche signified that the snitch had been caught. A boy in crimson robes stands victorious in the grass, pumping his fists in triumph. "Gryffindor won! Gryffindor won! Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup! Congratulations!" I feel my stomach roll over, the grin spreading quickly across my features as comprehension dawns. We won. We won! I managed to block you seven times and you only got four shots in.

"Yeah!" I yowl, my fists reaching towards the clouds. Then, a streak of emerald makes its way towards my celebrating figure. You look grumpy, perhaps sad that you don't get your way. I smile at you. "Oh, lighten up. It was a good game. I had fu- Marcus, what do you think you're doing?!" I gasp, feeling your gloved hands on my wrists. I try to back away but my broom refuses. Attempting to pull my wrists free, I struggle, shifting to get you away. "We had a deal! C'mon, don't. Please."

"I don't care .. if we had a deal or not. I-I can't do this anymore. I'm not the type of person that can hide these things."

"You've been doing a pretty good job of it so far!"

"I don't care. C'mon, please? I can't do it anymore."

A sharp whistle cries in the background but my mind can't register it. All I feel is you. I can see how much it means to you. I stop struggling, taking a deep breath, feeling eyes peering at us as attention is drawn with the crazy woman and her whistle.

"Flint, leave that boy alone! Leave him alone this instant! The match is over!" Hooche cries. You don't heed her warning. Instead, you press your lips to mine. I feel my heart in my throat, those butterflies bursting through in full force.

"Marcus..." I sigh, pressing my forehead to yours as the gray-haired woman finally reaches us.

"Flint, I'm warning yo-"

"Oh, leave us alone." You hiss, taking my hand and starting your decent. A crowd of still rowdy students has gathered to greet us, all the houses coming together to gossip. I see Fred and George holding the glistening cup, smiles bright on their faces as Percy just watches from behind. My team has gathered, awaiting me with our reward. You grip my hand tighter as our feet touch the green, green grass. "Go ahead. I'll catch up later. Go celebrate."

"You come too."

You smile, shaking your head. "This is your victory."

"Our victory."

I stop you from going towards your own moping team, pulling you back softly, wrapping my hands around your neck, and craning my own to let my lips brush against yours. My breath is quick, coming in spasmodic gasps. I never was one for being in the starlight.


I don't know how it happened, exactly. All I know is that I have never made a better choice. You changed my life for the better. Without you coming up to me that day, all those years ago, I never would have opened up, never would have taken risks, never would have felt alive. So, I thank you, Marcus Flint. I thank you for giving me life.


"Oliver? Oliver, you alive in there?"

I start, feeling your hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake, "Wha?"

"You're going to be late for work."

"But I was having that dream again!"

Your lip curls, showing off the perfectly straight teeth you acquired the day you graduated. You laugh at me, pulling me to my feet in an attempt to get me moving. "Explains why you kept moaning my name. I was starting to worry about you, Ol."

I glare, watching that ever-mischievous smirk spread wider across your lips. You kiss me gently, despite my pleads of horrid morning breath.

"Oh, Oliver Wood, I still love you."

"Prove it." I hiss seductively in your ear, pressing farther against you, knowing your next move like clockwork.

"Later. You, sir, have work to get to."

"Lazy bastard."

"I'll get a job someday."

"Says you."

A quick peck on the cheek is all you give me before leaving me to get dressed and head off to the Ministry. "Love you, babe."

"Oh shut up."


The End


Ah, my first Harry Potter fic and I am so proud of it! Tell me what you think, yes?

My love is a burning, consuming fire - Whispers In The Dark