It's an early summer evening. The weather is surprisingly cold for a day in June, but it is still light outside, so the summer feeling remains. The sun can truly be stubborn like that sometimes. Another Hogwarts school year has come to a close, much to everyone's delight and dismay. Exams are (finally) finishing up, a Qudditch finale has been played, Gryffindor taking home the win, and a young Harry Potter has finished off yet another adventure he can add to his list of traumatic childhood memories.

Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood are enjoying the now. Soon enough they'll be Hogwarts graduates, off playing Quidditch professionally for Puddlemere United and the Montrose Magpies respectively. Right now though, they're sitting on the pitch that has been their spot, their holier than thou, taking in the moment they can practically feel slipping out of their grips.

They're laying in the grass, trying to make sense of the sky. Marcus has always lacked imagination when it came to cloud gazing. ("Congrats, it looks like a fucking cloud. That's what it is, isn't it?") The silence is comfortable, warm. Marcus can feel Oliver at his side. Can hear his steady breathing. So close, yet gone in his own head. Probably convinced that the cloud over there looks like a quaffle. He wants to reach over and grab the others hand, but he doesn't. He knows he can, but he refrains. Instead, he sits up and takes a loud breath to catch the others attention.

"Ollie, can I tell you something I haven't really told anyone?"

It takes a moment until Oliver responds. "Always." His boyfriend yawned without a greater ambition to move. The chaser knew he had his full attention.

"I'm kind of terrified." Oliver remained still, so Marcus continued. "I think I've always been really scared, you know? Insecure. God I sound twelve, but what can I do? It's the truth. When we were eleven for example, I- well, I was terrified of being left behind, and here we are again, and I'm so scared because, because we're graduating soon, and I'm afraid that I won't be able to keep up." The silence was deafening.

The future had always terrified Marcus because looking back on his childhood, he wasn't sure if he'd ever get through it without ending it in a cell in Azkaban. He'd never agreed with pureblood pureism. Found it rather ridiculous actually, seeing as the majority of wizards were either half-bloods or muggleborns. Yet, people assumed. He never liked when people assumed, because no matter how much they tried they'd never know. He supposed that's why he was such a bitch. Nothing could frighten him if he was the most frightening thing in the room. No one would know him if he had full control over what they knew.

Oliver got up slowly, cracking his neck and stretching out his arms in the process. "What makes you think that?" He asked calmly, almost unbothered. As if Marcus hadn't just unleashed the root to most of his problems.

"Look at me Ollie." As on que, the keeper looked directly at him.

"I am." He said simply. "Remember in the beginning of the year when we didn't even know if you were going to graduate at all?"

"You're really not gonna let me live that one down huh?"

The keeper just ignored his boyfriends whining, it was nothing he wasn't used to by now. "What did we do about it?"

"Ehm… Weasley tutored me? Look, Ollie, I just don't think that's relevant-"

Oliver quickly cut him off. "What're you doing soon?"

Marcus thought about it. "Going to bed?"

"Graduating you idiot. You're graduating! You went from flunking transfiguration to graduating and getting scouted to a professional Quidditch team! Merlin Flint, you're so daft sometimes. It's ok to be scared, heck I'm scared too."

"Really, you? Babe the only thing you've ever cared about is Quidditch."

"Well, duh! And what if my playing isn't up to professional standards?" The look of worry on the keepers face caused Marcus to snort.

"What?"

"Wood please, we both know you're an incredible quidditch player." Marcus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't feel the need to inflate Oliver's large ego any further. "You'll be fine."

"Then why wouldn't you be?" The keeper challenged.

"My family Ollie, they… well, it's just different for me, that's all." Marcus had a reputation, a family name that left him with little choice. He was branded for life, no matter what he did. He'd always be a goddamn Flint.

Oliver was having none of it. "Except it's really not. Marcus, you're not eleven anymore. No one is leaving you behind, and your last name does not fucking define who you are. You define who you are! The real world, well it's fucking terrifying. There's nothing I'd rather do than curl up in my childhood bed and stay there forever in safety from the world of professional Quidditch where people actually give a shit. Hidden away from a world that will judge me because I love you unapologetically, and because I refuse to be what people want me to be. Except-"

"It would be ridiculous." Marcus finished.

"Exactly."

A pause. "You really mean it?"

"What?

"You love me unapologetically?"

"Really, that's your take away?" Marcus shrugged. "Yeah, I do. You suck Flint, and I properly love you for it. What can I do? I love garbage."

"Is that why you're so adamant on defending your teammates?" Oliver couldn't help the laughter that escaped his mouth and filled the chill air.

"Coming from the guy who tried to cheat his way to the Quidditch cup, but still lost." Now it was Marcus' turn to laugh. He couldn't help it. A few months ago the Malfoy incident being brought up would've been a really painful memory of all that he'd lost. Now, it served as a great reminder to everything he'd gained. Slytherin losing the Quidditch cup though, still stung.

"For what it's worth. I love you too, you know."

"I know." Oliver looked him dead in the eyes, "I'm a keeper."

"The goldiest of keepers." Marcus retorted quickly, catching Oliver off guard.

"Oh… my… I-" The hysterical laughter the keeper let out sounded like a mix between a hyena and a seal. Frightening. "Fuck, why would you… I just-" No coherent sentence in sight.

"So what now?" Marcus managed, once the other had calmed down a bit.

"What now?" Oliver repeated, still trying to catch his breath, "I become the goldiest, most famous quidditch player in all of Britain, and you become famous for being my loving and oftentimes frightening boyfriend." Oliver threw some grass on Marcus to imitate the sense of confetti, and the chaser, without a second thought, hit the keeper on the arm. "I've always wanted to do that." Oliver beamed as if his face was about to crack and Marcus finally understood. He made a move to grab Oliver's hand and the keeper let him.

"In your dreams. We both know I'll be the most famous Quidditch player." Marcus retorted.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Marcus let Oliver pull him in for a kiss that he found himself smiling into. The future was an unknown and rather frightening place, but he wasn't alone. He'd done a lot of things he wasn't proud of, things that lived up to his stupid last name. Except, he was done living up to it, done with letting it define him. Marcus knew he was better, knew he could be better. Along on that journey he had his own little personal hype man by his side. He didn't have to fear being alone anymore, because he wasn't. In fact, he never had been.

He'd be ok.

The End