Chapter 1
Volatile
Author's Note: This story is based off of an passage in the story Detained ( http://chasers . magical-worlds . us/eFiction1 . 1/viewstory . php?sid195&warningR-18 - remove spaces) by the most wonderous ceejay. She has given me permission to do this. While reading Detained ( http://soulsdream . com/rivalry/viewstory . php?sid49&i1 - remove spaces) is not necessary to understand this story, I would greatly recommend it to anyone who likes snark, or great writing, or hot romance. So I encourage the reader-ly consumption of ceejay's fic.
The only disadvantage that Marcus Flint had ever found with being over a foot taller then all of his mates was it always made it more difficult to play hide-and-go-seek. Higgs was so small that he could fit in a bleeding hatbox and Brutus, the sickly lad that he was, really wasn't much bigger. And since this wasn't his house, Marcus didn't know where all the secret rooms where and, therefore, was at an even larger disadvantage.
Turning down the umpteenth hallway, deciding that getting as far away from the starting place was a good idea, Marcus was running not paying any mind to things around him. Thankfully the yellow-haired banshee on a broom was making enough noise that he had no choice but to pay attention.
Sliding to a stop, Marcus watched in rapt fascination as the broom-rider came barrelling towards him. It was a tiny, fine-boned little girl with long white-blonde hair tied into braided pigtails, he noted. She had large blue eyes and creamy pale skin, both of which reminded Marcus of his mother's glass dolls. But most importantly she had the horrid, boxy and mechanical grip of a keeper.
The banshee was wailing at him. "Get out of my way!! Move it, you big meanie!!!"
Given the swerving patterns that the girl was executing, Marcus doubted that she had much control over the broom that was probably taller then she was.
"Move, you lumb'ring troll!" She screamed and appeared to aim directly for Marcus' midsection.
As the broom moved forward to gore him, Marcus sidestepped with a speed and grace unexpected in a boy of his size. With perfect timing he also grabbed the top of the banshee's broom and tilted it towards the ground.
Since the girl had such an outrageously horrible hold of keeper's grip, as the broom went down, she lost grasp of it and went flying off the end and into gargoyle that was sitting on the floor. The little girl's body skittered to a stop on the claws of the gargoyle, who took immediate offence and pushed her away before turning around and snuggling himself down with his back to both Marcus and the girl. But the little girl didn't get up. She looked the doll of his mother's that had come crashing off the self that he'd tried to put his brother on; her legs were bent in strange ways and one of her arms was stuck behind her back at a bizarre angle. She looked broken.
Marcus felt a desperate sob well up in his throat. He hadn't meant to break her, she had been trying to gore him with her broom and all he did was grab her broom. It was instinct, not maliciousness! Marcus took a careful step towards her little body; he noticed with growing panic that she looked like she was wearing a chemise and drawers – the underclothes of dress robes. Oh, this was bloody marvellous! He'd killed a little girl and now everybody was going to think that he had tried to do something grown up, like torture her without her clothes on by giving her kisses. Ugh, that was disgusting just thinking about it. Why would he, a boy in every sense of the word, want to give a girl a kiss? It was bad enough when he had to kiss his mother!
Kneeling next to her broken form, Marcus gently eased her arm out from under her back. A sharp gasp of air came from the little girl; startled, Marcus stood back up. The blonde rolled her shoulders a few times and put her feet in front of her. She then rocked onto the balls of her feet and sprang into a standing position, her head nearly colliding with Marcus' elbow.
Those enormous blue eyes scrunched up in an attempt at a furious glare. "Who do you think you are? Trying to throw me off my broom! The nerve of you!" She went up to Marcus' chest but failed to be intimidated by their marked difference of height. In fact she was repeatedly jabbing her finger into his stomach while she berated him.
Marcus looked down at her, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture that made him look bigger and always made everyone leave him alone and run for their mothers. "If I was trying to throw you off your broom, I would have thrown you much farther. Besides that broom is too big for you, it can't be yours. Little girl brooms don't go that fast."
"Pshaw. My broom goes faster then yours, I bet you!" The little banshee paused though and a sheepish look past over her face. "But, I guess you are right. That's not my broom. It belongs to the little boy who lives at this house."
"You stole Pucey's broom?" Marcus asked, goggle-eyed. The broom was Adrian's baby and he was sure to have a fit when he found out a girl had taken it.
The little girl gestured in a way that gave the impression that Marcus' question didn't matter. "Who are you? You didn't tell me yet."
Marcus cast a short glare over the girl before answering. "I am Marcus Flint."
"I'm Katharine Louise Isadora Bell! But people call me Katie. My father knows all about a disease that you get from eating raw fwooper brains! I'm going to be a professional Quidditch Chaser when I'm older. Are you related to Volumnia Flint, who runs that big company?" The girl blinked up at him.
Half of what she said was lost on Marcus because the only thing that had registered in his brain was big blue-eyes. Instead of trying to figure out what she had said Marcus asked: "How old are you, girl?"
"I turned five two weeks ago!" She said importantly and put up the appropriate amount of fingers to correspond with her declaration. Then she glared at him again. "My name is Katie! Not 'girl!' "
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Fine." He waited a deliberately long moment before adding: "Katie."
Again the little banshee glowered at him. "Maybe I take that back. Maybe you aren't good enough to call me Katie. You should have to call me Queen of Quidditch until you've made up for the fact that you threw me off that silly boy's broom."
It irritated him to even think that she wouldn't consider him worthy to call her by her name. He was as worthy of her as any other bloke, more so because he had NOT broken her. "I didn't throw you, for the last time." Marcus glowered back at her. "And if you hadn't been holding the broom like some pansy-assed keeper you wouldn't have gone flying off it either!"
She flung back. "Like you could do any better, troll!"
"Infinitely better then you, banshee!"
"Show me, then!"
"Fine!"
And with clipped movements Katie was mounted on Adrian's too-big broom and Marcus was moulding her hands into firm chasers-grip. Without even realising it, Marcus was giving her a run down on the benefits of this particular grip: "… A good Chaser – you were planning to be a Chaser, right? – should be able to do all their catching without removing their hands from their broom. That way they have more stability and manoeuvrability with their hands on the broom shaft. The Quaffle should always be caught in the basket of your arms made by this grip on the broom. Only remove your hands when you are trying to pass, score or do a trick. And since you have no skills on your broom yet, I don't think that you should try any tricks yet."
Katie, much to Marcus' surprise, absorbed all of his rant. "I have skills!! I'm really fast! Everyone tells me so!"
"Going fast isn't a skill; it's a death-wish." Marcus' voice was modulated, his brain still in teaching mode. "It requires talent to use speed properly. If you only have speed then you are no better then those irritating Seekers."
She made a disgusted sound. "Seekers are stupid."
Marcus grinned. Maybe the banshee wasn't so bad after all.
"Your teeth are strange."
Or maybe not. "Go away, child." Marcus gestured loftily. "You've already ruined my afternoon."
"I don't think that you've understood the game, mate." Adrian emerged from a small passageway behind Marcus and Katie. "You are supposed to be hiding, not talking to the gargoyles."
Katie poked her head around Marcus' much larger form. "I'm not a gargoyle! I'm Katie Bell!"
"Merlin! Is that my broom?" Incredulousness and a tinge of hysteria filtered through Adrian's voice.
"Look Adrian," Marcus began.
Adrian stalked forward. "Don't you even start - "
"Katie-Darling? Are you down here?" A woman's voice called.
Katie's little face grimaced and she quickly got off the broom. "Yes, Mama. I'm here." With an expert toss the broom was now in Adrian's hands and Katie put herself in the lee of Marcus' shadow.
A moment later a woman, in afternoon tea robes, appeared at the end of the hallway. She was tall for a woman, had dark blonde hair and green eyes. Even to a boy of six, Marcus knew that she was a beautiful woman. She smiled softly at Marcus. "Katie-Darling, stop hiding behind young Master Flint."
A rosy blush stole across Marcus' swarthy cheeks. The lovely lady knew who he was.
"I'm fine where I am, Mama. You don't need to worry about me." Katie peeked out briefly before moving even closer to Marcus.
"Oy, Marcus." Adrian interrupted. "Why is the little girl only wearing her dressy under-things?"
Mrs. Bell frowned as she moved towards them. "Oh dear. Katie-Darling, did you take your dress robes off again?"
"They make me look like a doll, Mama!" Katie protested, again cuddling closer to Marcus to avoid her mother. "I don't like wearing them."
Unwittingly Marcus was nodding in agreement. She did look like a doll, dress robes would only make that more obvious. Also without realising it, Marcus had put his arm around Katie's small shoulders.
A small sigh left Katie's mother. "Regardless, Darling, you can't go about in naught but your underpinnings. It's not seemly and this is not our house, so you cannot get away this as much." She came to a stop and gently tugged on one of Katie's braids. "Now let go of your Marcus here, and we can go home for you to change into something else."
Marcus blushed again at being called Katie's Marcus but was able to position himself in such a way that neither Adrian nor Mrs. Bell could see it. Katie could have seen it, technically, had her face not been lodged in Marcus's ribs.
Katie still had not budged. "You're tea party is over then? We wouldn't have to come back?"
Her mother smiled. "Yes, Darling, the tea party is done. We can go home and you can ride your broom, should you want."
"Huzzah!" Katie cried, attempting to spring away from Marcus only to discover that he still had his arm wrapped around her protectively. After some grumbling from both of them, Katie was free to jump into her mother's waiting arms. As she let her head drop onto her mother's shoulder, Katie announced: "Marcus threw me off that boy's broom."
Marcus stiffened in horror.
"But then he showed me a good grip so it will never happen again." Katie looped her arms around her mother's neck. "Marcus probably saved my life, Mama."
"Then thanks are in order." The lovely Mrs. Bell turned her slightly bemused gaze to Marcus. "I sincerely thank you for teaching my darling daughter that grip, Master Flint. And for saving her life, in the possible future."
Marcus stamped his feet as he blushed furiously and looked anywhere but the blonde Bells. "It's not my fault she didn't break herself." He heard himself say.
"Thank you in any case." Mrs. Bell squeezed his shoulder. "Katie is precious to me."
"S'not a problem, Madame. My word as a wizard." Marcus mumbled, still blushing.
With a final smile to Marcus and a nod to Adrian, Mrs. Bell, carrying Katie, walked off down the hallway.
"Mama?" Marcus heard Katie ask.
"Yes, Katie-Darling?"
"Will I have teeth like Marcus when I'm older?"
Marcus scowled fiercely at the little girl's back.
"Would that be so horrible?" Mrs. Bell responded to her daughter.
Katie paused for a moment. "No. Having teeth like that wouldn't be as bad as being a Seeker."
Mrs. Bell laughed. And Marcus cracked a small smile. Maybe Katie Bell wasn't such of a horrible little girl after all.
"Hello? Marcus? Focus!" Adrian snapped. "What did the little fae do to my broom??"
But girls were still girls and they held no interest to Marcus Flint, age 6.
Disclaimer: The characters and many of the locations described herein are the property of J. K. Rowling and all of her varied associates. The situations are based on passages by ceejay. I own whatever creative licence is leftover.