There is something distinctly freeing about being able to fly. Harry was used to making his way through life with the constant presence of weight being forced upon him. And just when it seemed that he was able to shrug some of it off or at the very least gain his bearings and start to feel like he could at the very least manage the weight something else was being thrust unto him. When he was in the air, moving faster than any human really ought to with nothing more than the wind whipping around him and magic sparking just beneath his skin it was the sort of thing he couldn't imagine being without. That being said, as pleasant as flying those first few steps upon touching down weren't always pleasant as everything he had just managed to push away came down on him as if they had never been gone.
Stepping into the locker room used usually for before and after quidditch matches Harry contemplated to himself how flying left one feeling slightly off. He didn't feel sticky per say as if he had been running but the thought of not showering after having been flying for a while was the sort of thing that made him feel sticky and gross. Yanking gloves from his fingers and shrugging the heavy outer robes Harry stepped into the main portion of the locker room not as aware as he should have been all things considered. Shuffling towards the locker he had left his things in, Harry was suddenly stopped by the sharp twang of magic snapping through his body.
Since his birthday Harry had been encountering strange happenings that didn't quite make sense. It was the sort of thing he felt foolish asking about because it might just be him being the freak that he was which wouldn't surprise him or if it wasn't just him being odd and different it was sure to be something he should have learned and would have if he had been raised in the magical world. For the first time since entering the locker room Harry looked around realizing that there was still a chance he was not alone. It was early morning and on a Saturday no less, not quite in the middle of winter but close enough to make the air outside sharper than was strictly comfortable. Harry's gaze snapped to the short hall that connected the showers to the locker room and it took only a fraction of a moment before someone was stepping into the locker room a towel wrapped around their waste. As the newcomer stepped into their room they were instantly staring Harry down making it impossible for Harry to either flee or hide in any format. To be fair though the person was wrapped in a towel and Harry was still fully clothed and had his wand close at hand. Eyes the sort of black that felt more like a trick than an actual state of being met his gaze and Harry instantly felt less confident in his ability to defend himself even with his wand the abundance of magic snapping and popping within him waiting to rush into the world. The thing about having a lot of magic is knowing how to use it the way you want/need is different than just having it in the first place.
"Potter," the rumble of words cracked through the air feeling like the grinding of stone with the presence of smooth shadow. It was an odd thought but harry couldn't help but find it fitting.
"Flint," was the only thing he could say in the presence of the sort of person you didn't mess with even if you were Harry 'bloody' Potter.
With little care for Harry, or at least that was the way it seemed, Marcus Flint stepped towards his locker which was on the same wall as the one Harry had claimed, and opened the door making it clear to Harry at least that their interaction was over. Marcus Flint was the sort of person that had a presence you had to acknowledge for good or for bad and yet had the distinct ability to fade from your thoughts the moment he walked away. It was odd to feel fear and remember all the crazy things someone was capable of and have that fear as well as just about every thought revolving around that person fade the moment they were done with you. Harry knew that Marcus was in the top ten percent of his class, he was a seventh year, a Slytherin, he was the quidditch captain and the rumor has it the most dangerous person to work with in both Battle Magics, and oddly enough, Unseen and Unknown a class that didn't quite fit in with the towering force of a man that was Marcus Flint.
Trying to focus on whatever it was he had been attempting to do beforehand harry knew that flint wouldn't care to interact with him and certainly would feel no need to talk to him or even really glance at his direction and yet harry felt his neck warm and his heart pound faster every second longer that the other boy remained. Trying to shuffle some things around that were in front of him to make it seem like he was doing something and not just staring off into the great nothing thinking thoughts that he would surely forget the moment flint stepped from the room harry felt like he had been standing there for far longer that he ought to have.
Frustrated with himself, Harry snapped the locker door closed and fought the urge to leap back upon seeing flint standing leaning against the lockers wearing not a towel but only his pants. He was looking in Harry's direction and Harry's first thought was that he wanted to be somewhere else without someone scrutinizing him but trying not to look into endless black eyes Harry found himself taking into the various parts of flint that was so boldly on display. Wondering if the enormous man was smirking as was the common form of amusement for Slytherin or if he was sneering at Harry or any other sort of other half expression that would give Harry some indication of what was going on with the Slytherin. Deciding that he didn't really want to know Harry also found himself unable to say anything to the point where he couldn't even force himself to form the words questioning whether Flint needed anything.
It was painfully distracting how tall the older Slytherin was. He was tall and unlike Ron who was lean and weedy, flint was solid, with broad shoulders and arms that bulged with muscle, and the sort of torso Harry was sure would cause even Hermione to lose her train of thought. For some reason the sharp ticking of a clock or some form of time enchantment suddenly settled in his awareness, making Harry nervous and causing his thoughts to scramble as if he had to find the answer to a question that hadn't even been asked and he was running out of time. Flint didn't move, still had not said anything and yet Harry was still taking in how enormous his hands were and how long his legs were. He was trying to not contemplate why the Slytherin felt like he was getting closer and why did it feel like Flint's body heat was encompassing Harry with the sort of pleasant warmth that Harry was undeniably unfamiliar with.
Trying not to think about that Harry was running out of acceptable thoughts because nearly every one of the thoughts that appeared made him want to shiver for an unclear reason considering just how warm he was. In an attempt not to think about broad shoulders, and strong arms and big hands Harry's brain settled on the sort of thought that he shouldn't be thinking. Of course it was then that Harry's ability to reject thoughts trains from continuing on stopped working and Harry found his brain zeroed in on one thing. Maybe thinking about how big his hands were should have stayed instead of his current point of interest.
Flint leaning so casually against the locker, seemingly creeping closer, wearing only pants, had forced Harry to reject all other thoughts and be forced to contemplate his companions' attire. Harry's first thought since noticing was he didn't expect flint to be the sort of guy who wore briefs. The heat just kept getting worse as Harry took note of the tightness of flint's underwear and the oddly bright color for the usually very serious and dangerously powerful person. The wizarding world was clearly behind in a wide variety of ways but one thing the seemed to have decided to innovate with were undergarments, something that didn't make sense in harry's head, but suddenly unable to think about anything else harry couldn't help but appreciate the obviously expensive material dyed and charmed and clinging to flint.
The flint family was wealthy in the sort of easy old money way that a lot of purebloods either once were or always had been. Watching him Shifting slightly, Harry felt like he shouldn't have noticed the small spasm in Flint's upper thigh and the way the soft material gripped his legs. Growing impatient but sounding mostly amused, Harry froze at the words that drifted to him in the sort of lazy drawl that all Slytherins must have perfected upon being sorted into the snake pit.
"You think so much." In a voice crossbred between a growl and the sort of breathy whisper that made Harry wish nothing had been said because an attractive male in his pants was saying it to him, Flint must know what was going on here... right?
"Is this how you handle all people or am I just special," flint said and opening eyes he hadn't realized had closed harry glancing sideways realized flint wasn't where he just was and it was the soft breath against his ear and neck that made it clear where flint had gone. "I can see why everyone is so interested in you even if you do think too much and don't even acknowledge the people around you."
"Oh I'm sorry for not acknowledging the giant of a human, rippling with the sort of muscle that would have little issue turning me to dust, as he stands all close to me in nothing but Sapphire colored pants." The words were meant to sound biting and yet the way they were half moaned and almost whimpered took most of the edge off.
"You are interesting aren't you potter. Magic coming off you in waves that leave the people around you drowning in it even if you don't even realize, so easily flustered and yet so feisty, and only to find out that all it takes is seeing my pants to rile you up so deliciously." Gripping one of harry's hips, almost dainty in the giant hands Flint possessed, he pulled harry back against him molding harry's back to chest, and leaning down almost possessively to curl around the younger Gryffindor, slotting them together in a way where harry felt consumed in the body behind him in a way he had firstly never experienced and thusly had never known was so amazing.
"Why won't you look at me potter?" Flint spoke softly hypnotic and seductive in Harry's ear, kissing just behind his ear in a way that actually made harry's whimper with need. "Are you afraid to look the big bad Slytherin in the eye?" Harry opened eyes that had closed as he lost himself in everything, with a snarl curling his lips and baring his teeth Harry turned sharply and threw himself at flint.
Lips crashed together, magic lit the space with the sort of energy that put the sun to shame. Marcus kissed the smaller boy with satisfaction, and relentless need, that Harry didn't know he needed. Hand sliding around his waist in a sort of undeniable claiming, Harry found himself being pulled up into arms and settled against the lockers at a height that made it all too easy for Flint, Marcus to take what he wanted from the smaller boy. Harry didn't protest and easily gave himself over to the feeling and the demands of Marcus. Nothing could be bad if it felt that amazing, right?
Being shoved against the cool wood of the lockers all the while being yanked as close to Marcus as was possible harry hadn't imagined this happening today and surely the thought that he would be pinned against lockers submitting to the sort of person that was supposed to represent everything harry stood against was never something that had crossed his mind. Hands fisting his hips were sure to bruise and yet Harry was eager to bare those marks on his skin. Breaking a part, allowing harry to gasp for breath as if it were his first and probably his last Marcus didn't seem to have any issue with the lack of oxygen and frankly harry was impressed at the soft breathing that washed over the skin of his neck and shoulders in-between the possessive nips and kisses touching upon his skin with such Slytherin satisfied possessiveness.
Mind not quite where it should be but trying to force the process to move faster Harry found himself restricted by the clothing that he had just moments ago considered a good form of protection from the exact person he now wanted to reveal himself to. Starting to tug at his shirt and trousers and the robes with the desperate need to get everything off but not really making anything happen Harry found himself being kissed one more time and then Marcus was looking at him. Emerald eyes alight with lust and desire and need that shouldn't be directed at him Marcus put harry back to rights as much as he could force himself to.
"No potter, I'm not going to do this here. You need to think about what is going to happen next and when you have figured out what the next move is for you and I then we will see what happens next." Kissing harry enthusiastically for an amount of time that made harry think Marcus would reconsider progressing forward when he started to tug at his shirt Marcus pulled away again smirked at the least threatening growl he had ever heard and with the whispered later circling harry's head, Marcus stepped back apparently pleased with himself. Looking down at the mark already dark and only getting darker stamped on an easily visible part of his neck, Marcus said nothing else, made no other move except creating a reasonable distance between them. Harry had but a moment to try to carve the image of Marcus, all enormous muscles and tight underwear, and dark eyes into his mind before Marcus was draped in a Slytherin green cloak and turning on his heel without another look at harry.
It was the sort of thing that Harry should have found annoying. He should have been annoyed at the easy way he had submitted, at the willingness he had given himself to the Slytherin and the way he was able to walk away with the same swagger that harry couldn't help but appreciate.
"Flint," harry growled realizing that being left there hadn't made him upset or offended but rather left him unsatisfied and hungry for more.