Full Summary: It just so happened, that at that very moment, handsome
young Marcus Flint happened to be having quite a spasm of anger and had
just broken his broomstick in his rage. Unfortunately, it hit Jocelyn
square in the eye...Due to his unacceptable grades, Marcus Flint will no
longer be able to play quidditch, but he'll do anything to get back in the
game--even if it means selecting a Ravenclaw of his choice as a tutor and
studying for once. Little does he know he's in for much more than he
bargained for...
Authors note: To one of my best friends ever (Rebbi :D), a true Ravenclaw and one of Marcus Flint's biggest fans ever on her 15th birthday. Hope ya like it buddy :) Luv ya.
Thanks for reading!
A Good Way To Die Marcus Flint had just finished making a highly offensive hand gesture toward Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team. Wood just laughed. That was it. Against his better judgment, Marcus threw off his emerald green quidditch cloak and tackled Wood, hard. Their bodies collided and the two exchanged violent curses and blows until somehow Marcus wound up in the lake. Which only served to worsen his already dangerously foul mood. Flint would've probably killed Wood (or at least messed up that pretty little face of his, the git) if Professor McGonagall hadn't quickly intervened. She had been summoned by an extremely upset Professor Sprout who had jumped in the air and screamed upon viewing the two pummeling each other. "Wood! Flint! Honestly, both captains of your house quid ditch teams, I would've thought you'd have enough sense between you to avoid such conflicts.I am severely disappointed in both you. This has been the third time this week!" She turned and continued up the hill, with them following silently behind her. Marcus snatched up his broomstick, a sleek Nimbus 2002, and sneered at Wood, who was now sporting a split lip. Marcus had only a few bruises. He decided he had won this match against Gryffindor. By the time they had reached the castle, Flint was feeling sick with dread. He still enjoyed glaring menacingly at the first years and Gryffindors approaching down the hall. He had actually made Neville Longbottom squeak and a group of third year hufflepuff girls run into the men's room. His anger had almost subsided by the time they had reached the headmaster's office. It was now replaced by a sickening feeling of what his punishment would be, as, of course, the headmaster would obviously favor the Gryffindor.
*** Marcus thought he would explode. He would no longer be able to play quidditch until his grades improved dramatically--and until he could treat other students besides Slytherins civilly. His face felt like it was on fire as he roughly raked his fingers through his messy black hair. The match against Gryffindor was only three five days away. He wasn't even allowed to practice! He knew the team wouldn't possibly be ready if he wasn't there to push them through rigorous practices. He wanted that victory so bad he could almost taste it! He wanted to push Wood and his Gryffindor friends into the dirt. He had never been so angry in his life and without thinking, seized his prized broomstick and with all the force he could muster, slammed it against the wall.
*** Jocelyn Romero attempted to jog down the busy Hogwarts corridors to her transfiguration class (which she was already late for) half covered from view by an enormous stack of thick books. She could already feel her knee socks sliding down her legs as her long reddish brown hair nearly strangled her. Panicking as the crowd of buzzing students thinned as a bell rung loudly over head, she tore into a blind sprint, down a hall she'd never been down before. It just so happened, that at that very moment, handsome young Marcus Flint happened to be having quite a spasm of anger and had just broken his broomstick in his rage. Unfortunately, the bristly end was headed straight for Jocelyn's barely visible forehead. For some unexplainable reason, she had chosen that very moment to peak out from behind her enormous stack of books and saw the lovely sight of a blunt broomstick hurtling toward her. So she did what anyone else in her position would have--let out a savage yell and threw the books in the air, just as the stick collided with her head, with a loud thonk, the bristles poking her eye, all the time angrily shouting, "well this is a good way to die!!" She lay on the floor, partially covered by books, in shock, not sure of what had happened. Opening one emerald eye, slightly, she was greeted by a very pleasant sight. As was Marcus, as he blushed slightly, stooping down to help her up. "I-I'm really sorry.are you okay?" he asked, strands of inky black hair falling in his gray eyes. "I had no idea what I was doing, it's just that," and then it dawned on him. "Aww man, I just broke my friggin' broom!!" "Sorry about that.," said Jocelyn, to shocked to come up with a clever remark, somewhat indignant about the whole affair. Picking both of the large pieces of his broom, she laid them together, pulling out her dragon- heart string wand and saying a quick spell to fuse the wood together. Flint looked incredulous. "Whoa.," he muttered. "Thanks." Looking up from the broom at her, a slow, easy smile crept across his face. Feeling herself smile back and redden slightly, she quickly got up and gathered her books, with a hurried good bye, and sped off to transfiguration. This would be an interesting excuse. Immediately after she'd sped off, Marcus' anger returned, and he began to rake through his hair once more. How could he possibly pull up his grades soon enough?! He had to play in the Gryffindor match--he'd trained for it all summer. After punching the solid stone wall a few times, he began to pace--he could treat people he disliked decently if he had to, though it would take the fun out of life, but it was easy enough.What he needed was someone smart, he decided.someone who could tutor him, and catch him up if only for a week. Someone like Jocelyn who knew uncommon spells. She had to be studious, he reasoned, due to her large amount of books.and, he remembered, a smirk forming on his lips, just before she'd left, he had seen a glimpse of her Ravenclaw patch. Perfect. Little did he know, however, how difficult his new conquest might be. It wasn't everyday that she was knocked senseless by a speeding broom, you know. Author's Note: Well folks, that was the first chapter. We appreciate reviews because it boosts our self esteem, but if you don't want to that's ok (you'll just get chased down the street with flaming marshmallows on pointy sticks ;P). Thanx^___^
Authors note: To one of my best friends ever (Rebbi :D), a true Ravenclaw and one of Marcus Flint's biggest fans ever on her 15th birthday. Hope ya like it buddy :) Luv ya.
Thanks for reading!
A Good Way To Die Marcus Flint had just finished making a highly offensive hand gesture toward Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team. Wood just laughed. That was it. Against his better judgment, Marcus threw off his emerald green quidditch cloak and tackled Wood, hard. Their bodies collided and the two exchanged violent curses and blows until somehow Marcus wound up in the lake. Which only served to worsen his already dangerously foul mood. Flint would've probably killed Wood (or at least messed up that pretty little face of his, the git) if Professor McGonagall hadn't quickly intervened. She had been summoned by an extremely upset Professor Sprout who had jumped in the air and screamed upon viewing the two pummeling each other. "Wood! Flint! Honestly, both captains of your house quid ditch teams, I would've thought you'd have enough sense between you to avoid such conflicts.I am severely disappointed in both you. This has been the third time this week!" She turned and continued up the hill, with them following silently behind her. Marcus snatched up his broomstick, a sleek Nimbus 2002, and sneered at Wood, who was now sporting a split lip. Marcus had only a few bruises. He decided he had won this match against Gryffindor. By the time they had reached the castle, Flint was feeling sick with dread. He still enjoyed glaring menacingly at the first years and Gryffindors approaching down the hall. He had actually made Neville Longbottom squeak and a group of third year hufflepuff girls run into the men's room. His anger had almost subsided by the time they had reached the headmaster's office. It was now replaced by a sickening feeling of what his punishment would be, as, of course, the headmaster would obviously favor the Gryffindor.
*** Marcus thought he would explode. He would no longer be able to play quidditch until his grades improved dramatically--and until he could treat other students besides Slytherins civilly. His face felt like it was on fire as he roughly raked his fingers through his messy black hair. The match against Gryffindor was only three five days away. He wasn't even allowed to practice! He knew the team wouldn't possibly be ready if he wasn't there to push them through rigorous practices. He wanted that victory so bad he could almost taste it! He wanted to push Wood and his Gryffindor friends into the dirt. He had never been so angry in his life and without thinking, seized his prized broomstick and with all the force he could muster, slammed it against the wall.
*** Jocelyn Romero attempted to jog down the busy Hogwarts corridors to her transfiguration class (which she was already late for) half covered from view by an enormous stack of thick books. She could already feel her knee socks sliding down her legs as her long reddish brown hair nearly strangled her. Panicking as the crowd of buzzing students thinned as a bell rung loudly over head, she tore into a blind sprint, down a hall she'd never been down before. It just so happened, that at that very moment, handsome young Marcus Flint happened to be having quite a spasm of anger and had just broken his broomstick in his rage. Unfortunately, the bristly end was headed straight for Jocelyn's barely visible forehead. For some unexplainable reason, she had chosen that very moment to peak out from behind her enormous stack of books and saw the lovely sight of a blunt broomstick hurtling toward her. So she did what anyone else in her position would have--let out a savage yell and threw the books in the air, just as the stick collided with her head, with a loud thonk, the bristles poking her eye, all the time angrily shouting, "well this is a good way to die!!" She lay on the floor, partially covered by books, in shock, not sure of what had happened. Opening one emerald eye, slightly, she was greeted by a very pleasant sight. As was Marcus, as he blushed slightly, stooping down to help her up. "I-I'm really sorry.are you okay?" he asked, strands of inky black hair falling in his gray eyes. "I had no idea what I was doing, it's just that," and then it dawned on him. "Aww man, I just broke my friggin' broom!!" "Sorry about that.," said Jocelyn, to shocked to come up with a clever remark, somewhat indignant about the whole affair. Picking both of the large pieces of his broom, she laid them together, pulling out her dragon- heart string wand and saying a quick spell to fuse the wood together. Flint looked incredulous. "Whoa.," he muttered. "Thanks." Looking up from the broom at her, a slow, easy smile crept across his face. Feeling herself smile back and redden slightly, she quickly got up and gathered her books, with a hurried good bye, and sped off to transfiguration. This would be an interesting excuse. Immediately after she'd sped off, Marcus' anger returned, and he began to rake through his hair once more. How could he possibly pull up his grades soon enough?! He had to play in the Gryffindor match--he'd trained for it all summer. After punching the solid stone wall a few times, he began to pace--he could treat people he disliked decently if he had to, though it would take the fun out of life, but it was easy enough.What he needed was someone smart, he decided.someone who could tutor him, and catch him up if only for a week. Someone like Jocelyn who knew uncommon spells. She had to be studious, he reasoned, due to her large amount of books.and, he remembered, a smirk forming on his lips, just before she'd left, he had seen a glimpse of her Ravenclaw patch. Perfect. Little did he know, however, how difficult his new conquest might be. It wasn't everyday that she was knocked senseless by a speeding broom, you know. Author's Note: Well folks, that was the first chapter. We appreciate reviews because it boosts our self esteem, but if you don't want to that's ok (you'll just get chased down the street with flaming marshmallows on pointy sticks ;P). Thanx^___^
