Being the only girl on the Slytherin Quidditch team had one perk only and that was having the changing room to myself. It meant that I had some privacy that none of the other team members had experienced and I could take as long as I wanted to get changed because Flint had long since labelled it a 'woman thing'. Of course, I took advantage of that most of the time by spending an unnecessary amount of time pretending to get changed so I could miss the compulsory laps around the pitch. If I timed it perfectly I could just pop out onto the pitch and join the boys for the last remaining warm-ups.

Of course, sometimes I wondered whether the single advantage was worth all the slack I got for it. Of course, there were those people that wondered whether a girl could play just as well as a boy could – which was utter shit. But also, there was the fact that I had gained 6 annoying members of the house who not only sometimes forgot that I was a girl but also thought that somehow, us being on the same team, meant that I was the one they were to turn to about dating problems. Why they thought I was going to help any of their arrogant arses find dates was beyond me.

With every game that approached, the practices got longer and earlier. For members of the team that had been through this multiple times before, we were used to Flint's overbearing attitude. But for newbies, like bloody Malfoy, he still somehow had the energy to complain. Even now, as he was supposed to be focusing on the snitch that Flint had let out, he was spending more of his time whining about the time. Merlin, his voice was carrying across the pitch and even though I was on the other side, I could still hear him perfectly. It was a wonder that one of the beaters hadn't taken aim for him already. In fact, the spectators – members of our house – could probably hear the complaining of our new seeker.

As Malfoy continued to whine, I rolled my eyes and looked to my fellow chaser as he flew beside me. Adrian and I shared a look, waiting for the captain to join us so we could run through some of the new plays he had made up.

The fourth-year flying beside me grinned good-naturedly as he assured me, "Malfoy will get used to it eventually. Just give him some more time, Lardera."

"He'll have to," I muttered, eyeing the pair of beaters who were swinging their bats experimentally, "or else he'll find himself experiencing a head-on collision with the bludgers."

Adrian chuckled, stabilising himself on his broom with a single hand as he admitted, "I'd pay to see that happen."

"You wouldn't be the only one," I assured him before casting my eyes across the pitch to where Flint was in deep conversation with our seeker. "Why don't we run through the plays by ourselves for now? Who knows how long it'll take for Flint to decide to come over here."

"That might be to do with the area we're flying in," Adrian said conspiratorially, shadowing me as I flew to the ground.

Clambering off my broom, I picked up the quaffle before settling myself comfortably on my broom again. Throwing the quaffle to the waiting fourth year, I asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

As we flew back upwards towards the goal hoops, I followed Adrian's eyes when he motioned for me to look at one of our housemates who had tagged along to watch us. "See that girl over there, the lone girl sitting in the stands? The one Flint is going out of his way to avoid?"

"Sanders - she's in her seventh year?" I questioned pointlessly, already knowing the answer. "Last I heard she was dating Flint?"

"They split up," Adrian confessed, throwing the quaffle towards me. I caught it with steady hands and threw it back to him. "He told us about it in the changing rooms – obviously you wouldn't have heard, being a girl and all. But I really think you should just use the same changing rooms as us –"

"Stop it," I cut off with a glare, catching the quaffle when he threw it back to me. "You've been hanging around Flint for too long; don't adopt his bad habits, Pucey."

"Alright, Lardera," Adrian relented, rolling his eyes and catching the quaffle with a wince when I tossed it with as much force as I possessed in my body. He rubbed his chest, wincing from the impact before adding, "He claims he got bored but now she won't leave him alone."

I scoffed, holding my arms open in anticipation of the quaffle. "That's what he gets for playing around with someone's feelings. Bloody ogre."

"That sounds like something you wanted to say to me," Flint called out from behind me and I winced, reluctant to face my captain. Me and my bloody mouth. Adrian snickered, clearing his throat and turning away from me so only I got in trouble. But really, what had I said wrong? Nothing. And that was why I was going to remain confident.

Clearing my throat, I flew in a small semicircle until I was facing him. "You might be my captain, but that doesn't mean I have to like your horrendous personality."

Adrian, realising that Flint was slowly beginning to get annoyed, hurriedly flew towards the other set of goal hoops. I glared at the back of my fellow chaser, and with the utmost reluctance, turned my eyes back to my captain.

Flint narrowed his eyes, jaw clenched tight as he managed to spit out, "Excuse me," as if he was waiting for me to retract my words. But it was too late for that, I wasn't one to go back on my words so easily. Not after a shoddy intimidation tactic that had stopped scaring me since the beginning of our first year.

"No one told you to become the house manwhore," I threw back, making a quick retreat and flying past him to join the rest of the team who had gathered in one group.

Flint would need to take a few minutes to calm himself and only then would we be able to begin the quidditch practice like it should have been. Only it wasn't that simple; just because Flint couldn't keep it in his bloody pants.

Naturally, our team won the game and as tradition, a party was thrown in the common room to celebrate. The younger students had evacuated the room when the older students began to get rowdy and I took the opportunity to get off my feet for a moment. Settling on the sofa between two of my dormmates, I tried to listen to the story Nara was sharing but instead, my eyes were following my captain around the room. He was doing a very poor attempt at trying to subtly avoid Sanders.

Salazar, I thought as I raised my glass to my lips, why didn't he actually talk to her like the man he claimed to be? Maybe if he told her how he felt about her constant presence, she'd understand that he didn't want her around. And if she still continued to follow him then he could always hex her. Then again, it served him right for messing around with someone else's feelings. It was only inevitable that someone would seek to get back at him for his horrendous treatment.

Turning my attention away from the hulking chaser, I instead turned to smile reassuringly at Nara when she nudged me with her elbow, silently asking why I was being so quiet. She shrugged, looking away from me as I did the same. We both listened quietly as Poppy unloaded her problems with her parents onto us. Her parents were more smothering than the usual brand of overbearing pureblood parents and were currently trying to get the older girl to settle down and find a match for her. Now if only she could manage to make them understand that she wasn't attracted to boys, this would be so much easier. But her parents were stubborn, insisting that it didn't matter, and they refused to see sense –

"Lardera." The gruff call of my name had the conversation drying up in an instant as we all turned to look at Flint as he stood beside the sofa. His eyes were settled on me alone as if he had no idea that the small group of us were wondering why he'd decided to intrude on a conversation that was clearly for girls only.

"What do you want now?" I grumbled, eyes widening when he reached out to take my hand and hauled me to my feet with enough force to make me stumble into his chest. "What do you think you're doing?"

Pushing away from him, I became hyperaware of the sheer number of eyes settled onto the pair of us. I could practically hear the rumours begin to circulate as the members of the house wondered what was making the Slytherin captain act so strangely. Flint gave no answer to my question and I narrowed my eyes in irritation, only to grow cautious when I realised that he was slowly creeping closer to me –

Any attempt I could have made to pull away from him was foiled when his hand left my arm, settling on my waist and keeping me close to him. If the slight twitch at the corner of his lips was any indication, then he'd heard the affronted gasp that left me at the gesture. Before I could even begin to remind him that personal space was a thing and that he needed to get out of mine before I hexed him, he was kissing me. Murmured gasps and exclamations of shock went through the common room.

But there was no way that any of them were even part as shocked as I was, I thought as I glared at Flint through open eyes. He seemed to show no intention of drawing away from me and instead appeared to want to deepen the kiss. The sudden thought had me gasping against him and he took the chance as if he'd been waiting for it and it was the feeling of his tongue against mine that seemed to rewire my brain.

Pushing him away with as much force as I could muster, I held him away from me and took deep breaths to calm him. My hands, resting on his shoulders, fisted themselves in the material of his jumper and in that moment, I was so disappointed that I had never thought to learn wandless magic before. Who knew what he would try to do if I removed one of my restraining hands.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I waited for him to give some sort of explanation for his unwanted attention. But instead, the infuriating man was watching me furrowed eyebrows. Merlin, I wanted to scream; I was the one that was supposed to be confused. Not me.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" I demanded, finally finding my voice but again, instead of giving me a response he saw it necessary to instead haul me out of the common room. The crowd of people parted easily, and no one seemed to see the need to help me get away from Flint.

Leading me out into the hallway, Flint finally released his hold on me and as the passage to the common room was once again hidden, I reached into my pocket to fist my wand in my hand. If he tried to get near me again, then he was going to find himself receiving something much stronger than a stinging hex. But from the rather dazed way he was touching his bottom lip, getting near me again was the last thing on his mind.

Clearing my throat pointedly, I watched him snap out of whatever thoughts he'd been having. "Well?"

"I need your help," he admitted after a moment. "She just won't leave me alone."

He didn't need to specify any further who he was talking about and at my unimpressed scoff, he arched an eyebrow dangerously. I wanted to scoff again, but smothered the urge – was that supposed to scare me?

"And where exactly do I come into this?" My eyes widened slightly before I hurriedly added, "Do not say what I think you're going to."

"You're least likely to get attached to me –"

"You got that right."

He narrowed his eyes at my unhelpful interruption, before reminding me, "I'm your captain. I could easily bench you for the rest of the season and no one would even ask why."

"You wouldn't dare," I hissed incredulously. "None of the subs are any good."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he dared, "Try me."

Flint was almost as bad as Wood when it came to arranging practices. But Wood was on another level and it almost made me feel bad for the Gryffindor team. Almost. I knew that Flint was greedy when it came to booking practice times and, so he liked to book as many as he could. Even though we had played a match only yesterday, the entire team was expected to be on the pitch early for practice. But he seemed to forget that I was one of the people that found it extremely difficult to wake early.

And so, it was really no surprise that by the time I woke up the next morning, after a long night of dodging questions about my relationship with my captain, I was late for practice. By the time I had gotten to the pitch, the team had finished all of their warm-ups and I tried not to whine; because I'd missed out on the warm-ups I was now going to be punished to run laps around the pitch. Salazar, when I saw the bloody fool that had decided we needed to wake up at such an ungodly hour –

"Lardera," Malfoy, the first member of the team to spot me, called out towards me. He clambered off his broom, jogging towards me. I tried not to roll my eyes at the teasing tone in his voice; I was not in the mood to deal with the second year. "Just because you're dating the captain doesn't mean that you can be late to practices."

Wrinkling my nose at the arrogant brat, I warned, "I am so close to hexing you Malfoy. One more remark from you and I'll land you in the hospital wing – even the threat of you running off to your daddy won't do much to stop me."

He scoffed, moving out of the way when I brushed past him and headed to the changing rooms. Getting into my uniform in record time, I was out on the pitch again just as Flint's team talk came to an end. Tightening my hold on my broom, I reluctantly approached the captain to find out just how many laps he was going to have me run.

Spotting my approaching figure, Flint gestured for the rest of the team to scatter to run through their drills, but the nosy bastards hovered a short distance away from us. Crossing his arms, Flint watched me with unimpressed eyes.

"I know, I know," I said as I drew closer to him. "I'm late and the punishment for being late is laps. Just tell me how many to do and I'll get right on that."

"I haven't said anything," he cut in, raising an eyebrow.

"Well you were going to," I muttered in annoyance, glancing curiously at my captain when he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side. "Sander's is here, isn't she?"

He nodded, and I scanned the stands and found the seventh year sat on her own at one end of the pitch. Salazar, my helping Flint wasn't supposed to interfere with playing Quidditch. In fact, it was supposed to be the reason I was able to continue playing Quidditch. Where were Sander's friends to tell her to quit it? The sooner the seventh year regained her senses and realised that she was too good for Flint, the sooner I could avoid having to be stuck to Flint's side.

"Let go of me," I muttered to him from the corner of my mouth.

Flint's arm dropped from my shoulder as he gestured for me to go and join the team. I watched him curiously, wondering why he hadn't told me how many laps to run.

As if he knew what I was thinking, Adrian piped up, "How many laps have you been assigned this time?"

"None," Flint interrupted, making my eyebrows rise in shock. I looked at him, doubting my ears. "You're late enough already Lardera, don't waste any more time of laps. Just go and practice the drill you messed up last time."

"Prat," I threw back, just as Malfoy's whining filled the pitch.

"That's not fair!" the second year exclaimed, eyes settled onto our captain who was watching him with thinly veiled annoyance. "I turned up late last time and you made me run ten laps!"

"Can't you tell the difference?" Bletchley asked, rolling his eyes as he mounted his broom and hovered a few feet off the ground.

"What difference?" I rolled my eyes at Malfoy's pouting.

"You haven't got boobs, Malfoy!" Bletchley exclaimed loudly, chuckling at the threats that instantly spewed out of my mouth.

"I'm going to kill you Bletchley!" I shouted, grabbing a beaters bat from one of the distracted beaters.

Looking back to the bludgers bound by Flint's feet, I nodded when he silently gestured towards it. Releasing the bludger, Flint watched as I hit the bludger straight towards Bletchley. It caught him on the shoulder, but the keeper maintained his balance on the broom and instead laughed loudly as he headed towards the set of goal hoops at the end of the pitch.

"Sometimes I wonder if I should have made you the beater instead," Flint admitted as he approached me, standing beside me as I settled onto my broom and kicked off the ground.

"Oh please, the only reason you made me a chaser instead of a beater is because you know that I'd get so annoyed by certain members of the team that I'd aim the bludger at them." Hovering so that I was, for once, at eye level with him I watched him laugh genuinely.

"Why do I feel like you're talking about me?"

"Well if the shoe fits," I trailed off, looking across the pitch when Adrian called out to me. He gestured to the quaffle held in his hands. Before I could join my fellow chaser, Flint reached out to put a hand on my broom. Glancing between his hand and his eyes, I asked, "What?"

Without a word, he leaned forward and pressed a quick peck to my lips. It lasted barely more than a few seconds, but it was enough for Bletchley to begin whistling. Glaring daggers at the keepers, I let out a breath before looking back to my waiting captain.

"You keep kissing me as if you like doing it."

Removing his hand, he asked, "Don't you like kissing me?"

"You're not the worst kisser," I admitted, rolling my eyes. "But with the amount of practice you've had, I'm not surprised. Still nowhere near the best though."

Before Flint could respond to the slight against his ego, I flew away from him and towards Adrian. When I was close enough, Adrian threw the quaffle to me and I caught it easily. My eyes widened as I looked back to the grinning fourth year; the distance he was able to throw the quaffle across kept improving.

"You're getting better Pucey."

"Like that's supposed to be a secret."

One of the many downsides to getting 'involved' with Flint was that it had a knock-on effect on my real love life. For one thing, the flirtationship that I had created with one of the Hufflepuff chasers took a sudden nosedive. I had been so sure that the badger was going to pluck up his courage to ask me to Hogsmeade when suddenly news of my 'relationship' with Flint began to circulate the castle and the chaser wouldn't even glance my way. Then again, I didn't blame him; Flint could be quite intimidating, and I wouldn't willingly get on his bad side. Even though I had a tendency to push him, I knew when to lay off.

Salazar, I was forsaking my love life to help Flint fix his twisted one. And that just wasn't fair!

Or at least that was what I'd thought until Preece had sought me out himself, settling into the free seat across me in the corner of the library. My eyebrows rose in surprise, even as a smile bloomed on my face. He returned it with one of his own, settling his bag on the table top.

Putting my quill down, I wondered if it would be so easy to slip back into the way we used to be. Eyeing him curiously I decided to try it anyway, "I don't plan on giving you any of our Quidditch plans."

He feigned hurt, bringing a hand to his chest. So, it really was that easy to return to normal. "I'm hurt that you'd think so lowly of me Lardera."

"Good," I assured him, propping my chin in my palm, "because there'd be no way for me to get them to you anyway. I swear Flint sleeps with them strapped to his chest."

"Ah." He drew out the sound, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms. Recognising the gesture as defensive, I waited patiently for whatever he had to say next. "About Flint – rumour has it that the pair of you are dating? Just thought I should find out now, I don't want Flint coming after me for stealing his girl." Even the idea of dating Flint made me want to curl up in disgust and my face must have shown that as Preece laughed, sounding relieved. "I'm glad."

"But the question remains," I said quietly, leaning across the table towards. "Just why does that make you glad?"

"I think you know why," he stated confidently, meeting my eyes.

I held his stare for a moment, not wanting to be the one to look away first. Not that it mattered when seconds later, someone cleared their throat pointedly, effectively shattering the moment. I turned towards the sound and was only half-surprised to find Flint standing there. He had the most irritating habit of showing up when I didn't want him to. Salazar, why did he have to pick now to discover the existence of the library? I watched, half resigned, as Flint continued to approach our table.

Preece, watching the approaching Slytherin, straightened up in his seat as if to appear larger but what use would that do? Even as he stood a little away from us, we could both see Flint's large figure. When he finally did make it to our table, Flint stood at the end, staring down at Preece with enough heat to burn right through him.

"Why are you hitting on a taken woman, Preece?" Flint demanded, and I buried my head in my hands. Merlin, I should have known.

A few still moments passed and suddenly there was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Lifting my head, I watched as a reluctant Preece left the table and Flint took his place. He made himself comfortable, seemingly comfortable under my unimpressed eyes.

"Really?" I demanded, "This really has to affect my real love life?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, "No one would believe that my girlfriend would cheat on me."

"And I mean, why would they cheat on you? When you have that wonderful personality?"

Though he didn't appreciate my sarcastic remarks, he carried on anyway. "Besides, we can't have people thinking that my girlfriend or my maybe-girlfriend is being unfaithful."

"The hypocrisy," I scoffed, pressing my crossed hands to the table and leaning towards him. "Have you ever been faithful to the girls you've been with? You're so confident that no one would cheat on you but why should they stay faithful if you've never done the same?"

"I am capable of fidelity," he grumbled, and I swallowed the urge to ask how he knew the word fidelity.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you," I muttered, settling back in my chair.

"I'm faithful to you."

Picking my quill up again, I turned my focus back to my half-written notes. "Like that counts."

Apparently, fake dating Flint meant that I was supposed to go to Hogsmeade with him. Why what we were doing was fake dating was beyond me. We could have just as easily left this as a 'fling' and surely that would be enough to have Sanders back off? And why was I being expected to take time out of my life to 'willingly' spend it with Flint? I was so tempted to feign cramps and curl up in bed, but I was certain that I'd only have hell to pay for trying to pull that trick on him.

The moment we'd clambered out of the carriage, he pressed a hand to the small of my back and I started at the contact, pulling away from him. Flint shot me an odd look but did it again anyway and began to lead me to Madam Puddifoot's. The moment the sign for that lacy hellhole appeared ahead, I dug my feet into the ground and shook my head.

"No way, no way in hell," I said firmly, making him stop beside me. "Anyone that knows me will know that I'd never set foot in there."

"You don't like Puddifoot's?"

"Understatement of the century, Flint." I rolled my eyes before admitting, "It kind of gives me a headache too."

"The Hog's Head?" he suggested, and I was surprised that the stubborn man hadn't pushed for me to go to Madam Puddifoot's anyway. "Or the Three Broomsticks?"

"The Hog's Head," I said, already leading the way. I saw the surprise flicker across his features and explained, "It'll be quieter there – it's bound to be less crowded too. Besides, I've gotten quite close to the owner."

Disbelief played across his features, but he didn't question it and instead walked a little ahead of me to hold the door open for me. Heading to the bar, we placed our orders before settling into one of the corner booths. I slid in before him, throwing him a look when he naturally reached out to drape his arm across the back of the seat, fingertips brushing against my shoulder. Instead of trying to fill the silence with pointless conversation, I decided that silence was the better option. Looking around the room, I wondered just how much longer I'd have to suffer in this way when Flint reached out to play with my hair.

Snatching it back from him, I asked with a frown, "Have you always been so touchy-feely or are you just doing it to annoy me?"

"I'm like this to all my girlfriends," he said brazen-faced as our drinks were brought to our table.

"To almost every girl then," I added and Flint, used to my attitude, simply rolled his eyes.

"You might like to think of me as human trash, but I didn't actually date a lot of those girls." My eyes shot to his, clearly suspicious. He nodded as if to convince me he was telling me the truth. "Most of the girls I've been with knew I was only after fun and they all knew that. They all consented to that. It's hardly my fault if the word spread around the school."

Unable to hide my curiosity, I moulded my hands around my glass and leaned a little closer to his side as I asked, "Just how many girlfriends have you had then?"

And for the first time, in all the six years that I had known Flint, I watched some colour dust across his cheeks. Was he embarrassed? Salazar, Aberforth must have slipped something into his drink.

Shifting slightly away from me, he cleared his throat before admitting, "Three."

"Three?" I repeated incredulously, a little louder than I had intended. Realising how much attention I'd drawn, I ducked my head slightly and repeated more quietly. "Three? Really? That's it?"

He nodded, downing the rest of his drink in one go before explaining, "My first was in second year. But does that really even count as dating? I was a little pipsqueak then."

"And after that?" I asked curiously, ignoring the amused twitch Flint's mouth gave at my blatant interest.

"That would be Sanders." He rubbed a hand over the back of his head and sighed heavily, "Salazar knows why I stuck around as long as I did, and clearly, from the way she's hovered around me for so long, my judgement wasn't so good. And the third –"

"The third," I prompted when he looked to me.

"You, Lardera."

Rolling my eyes, I drew away from him as I surmised, "So you've only really had one proper girlfriend and she's currently refusing to leave you again."

"I sure know how to pick them, don't I?"

"I don't know if I should agree with you or not," I admitted with a shrug, "considering that I'm your last choice and all."

My words had him smiling outright as he left the booth to head to the toilet. From behind the bar, Aberforth raised his eyebrows at me as if asking what I was doing here with Marcus Flint of all people. I just shrugged, turning back to my drink when someone – a very unwanted someone – slid into the previously occupied seat.

Sanders tapped her fingernails against the table and I internally wondered just where all her friends were and why weren't they stopping her psychotic behaviour? Wasn't that what good friends were for? To tell you when you were behaving like a crazy bitch? Just where had she popped up from anyway?

"What are you doing here?" Sanders asked, continuing with her infuriating tapping.

Finishing the last of my drink, I answered, "I'm on a date." Which you already knew about.

Straightening up in her seat, Sanders crossed her arms as she warned, "I'm going to get right to the point; leave him."

My lips parted incredulously. "What?"

"You heard me," the older girl continued shamelessly. "Leave him before I make you leave him, Lardera."

"Look," I said, letting out a deep breath. Salazar, I was so close to losing my temper with her. "Look, Sanders, don't you have some more pride? Merlin, I mean this from the bottom of my heart – it's better for you to just get over him, don't you think? Haven't you realised that he doesn't want to take you back? And what's the point of chasing after a man who clearly wants nothing to do with you?" From over her shoulder, I spied Marcus exiting from the men's toilet and looked to the silent seventh year and managed to get out one more remark as I slid out of the booth, "Besides, I have no intention of letting him go back to you anyway."

Leaving the fuming witch behind me, I walked to Marcus' side. Upon spotting my approaching figure, he'd stopped in his step and I decided to be the one to act first. Coming to a stop in front of him, I looked him over from head to toe before finally meeting his eyes.

"Just what is it about you that has these girls going mad for you?" I asked quietly before rising to my feet to wrap my arms around his neck and kissed him.

He responded almost instantly, wrapping an arm around waist and hauling me into his chest. Quite how long we were stood there, I had no idea. But it was clearly enough to test Aberforth's patience as he slammed a glass forcefully on the bar and muttered something about randy teenagers. Pulling hesitantly way from Marcus, I stepped out of his arms which had at some point, fallen to my hips.

A little dazed, I raised a hand to my lips. Well, I'd just found out what some of those girls saw in him, that was for sure.

Cautiously looking at Marcus, I found him watching me in confusion. "What – what was that for?"

"Sanders," I managed to get out, pointing towards the booth we had occupied. But Sanders had long since left and I cleared my throat, looking anywhere but at him.

Salazar, I needed out – there was probably a reason that Sanders had gone so crazed over him. She'd probably spent the most time with him out of all his 'lady friends' and maybe that was why she was clinging so much to him. Merlin, maybe being around him for a long time had some sort of adverse effect on your sanity.

Because that had to be it. There was no way that reason I was eyeing his broad shoulders was because I was attracted to him. Nope. No way.

I just needed to get out.

As the final lesson for the day ended, more and more members of the house entered the common room. I had been one of the first people into the room and took the chance to snag the best sofa for myself as I waited for my dormmates. But I found myself watching the entrance to the common room for one very specific person. Marcus was one of the last people to walk in and even though my friends had spotted me the moment they walked into the room and settled themselves around me, I couldn't stop my gaze from straying to the entrance.

Marcus scanned the common room on his way towards his dorm, faltering slightly when his eyes met mine. He waited as if wanting me to do something. So, I did.

Excusing myself quietly, I rose to my feet and gestured for him to follow after me. Trailing after me and standing a little awkwardly when I seated myself in one of the sofas in the corner of the room. Rolling my eyes, I gestured for him to sit down and he sighed, removing his back from his shoulder before sitting beside me.

"Whatever you have to say Lardera, spit it out," he grumbled irritably, rolling his shoulders as if to ease some tension. "I've got things I need to do."

"I'm going to be blunt," I warned him, and there must have been something in my tone that had him shifting in his seat towards me.

Crossing his arms, Marcus rested comfortably against the back of the sofa as he gave me all of his attention. "Go ahead."

"This," I said instantly, gesturing to the pair of us, "has to stop. Seriously, it needs to stop before I end up crazy like Sanders."

"Maybe you could speak like a normal person so that I'd at least be able to pretend to understand what you're talking about," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "What exactly is the 'this' that you're talking about?"

"Are you being obtuse on purpose?" I demanded, pursing my lips. He suppressed a chuckle, but when I full on frowned, he didn't even attempt to. "Use that brain I know you have inside your thick skull and figure out what I mean."

"How are you as annoying as you are beautiful?"

"I hope you're not expecting a compliment back."

"So, you admit you're very annoying then."

"And you've just admitted that I'm very beautiful."

"Anyone with eyes knows that," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Straightening up in his seat, he looked at me with heavy eyes that made my spine stiffen. "Enough playing around Lardera, why don't we address the reason you've clearly dragged me out here, for?"

"About time don't you think." The look he threw me had the words dying on my tongue.

"I was honest with you Lardera, I told you that I've only ever had three girlfriends. Recall the identities of those three and then tell me what that means for 'this'?"

"Oh please," I scoffed, "I thought we agreed that I didn't count."

"I never said that," he disagreed stubbornly. "I just never corrected you either because I knew we'd only end up in another argument."

"Will you be serious for once?"

"Are you being obtuse on purpose?" he asked and the twitch at the corner of his lips had my eyes narrowing in mock irritation. Why was it that I couldn't even be irritated at him like I used to be?

"I don't appreciate you spinning my words back on me."

"Look, I know you," he said with a sigh, tilting his head towards me and letting out a deep breath. "We've been in the same house for six years, we've been on the same team for almost as long, so you probably know me well too."

"Your point being?"

"My point being that if you weren't my girlfriend if I wasn't invested in this – in you, then I wouldn't have stayed faithfully by your side. But I have – I haven't so much as looked at another girl. Which is saying something, considering the number of offers I still get –"

"Marcus –"

"But I have been faithful," he repeated, rising to his feet and staring down at me. "Let's be real here, I've been really dating you all this time. All that's left, Lardera, is for you to begin really dating me too. And do you know what's the first step to doing that?"

Despite myself, I asked, "What?"

And Salazar, he was grinning in a way I'd only seen him grin whenever we won the Inter-house Quidditch Cup. "Stay away from Preece."