The Slytherin common room was unusually quiet that Saturday night.
The smoldering embers in the ornate fireplace glimmered quietly, casting a
surprisingly serene glow to the stately green room. Suddenly the door burst
open, and the muddied shuffle of cleats scrapped across the polished wooden
floor. Low murmurs of talking and laughing gently filled the spacious room.
"Alright guys, get some sleep. Good practice." Came a lowly voice that commanded with its silence. The shuffling started off towards the dorms, and soon the common room was as quiet as the grave once more.
Marcus Flint sighed and ran a hand through his unruly mess of black curls. Practice had been especially grueling tonight. He hated taking the field last, especially after Gryfindor and that damned Oliver Wood. Every muscle in his body ached from the chilly night flying but his mind was suffering the worst fatigue of all. Classes had begun to take a toll on the seventh year and with homework and Quiddtich practice, his schedule was filling up far too quickly for his liking. All he needed was some time off. That and a nice hot shower. He smiled, realizing that a shower was something in his immediate power and he turned to do just that. But something caught his eye, a small white figure curled up in one of the large high-backed chairs before the fire. He cautiously crept forward to get a better look, careful so as not to hit the few loose, squeaky floorboards that dotted the ground like land minds. The white figure came into focus as a young girl, well, a young woman, wild brown curls falling about her shoulders, thick glass with delicate little frames masking her eyes set on a slender, creamy face. She was clothed in a simple white nightgown that covered her legs, which were at present curled up underneath her, aiding the repose of a book that lay open in her lap.
A few steps closer showed it not to be a book, but a notebook, across which the girl's slender fingers moved a billowy quill, producing the most elegant script the Slytherin captain had ever seen.
"Mind some company?" he asked before he even new he'd opened his mouth. The girl's head snapped up to look at the intruder on her solitude, and Flint noticed her eyes widening a bit behind her glasses when she spotted him.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone else was up." She said softly. Marcus was awed by the softness, the gentleness of her tones, which sent a small shiver through his heart, though it was probably nothing.
"Not too many are, I think. We just got back from practicing after dinner. I hope we didn't disturb you." He added, shooting a concerned look at her writing.
'No, not at all, thank you." That voice, he thought, it's so different…
Then it hit him.
"You're the new girl, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. Elizabeth Shakespeare, nice to meet you." She said, holding out her hand. Her small, white hand, he thought as he took it. Then he noticed the telltale ink stains of a writer's hands and he couldn't help but smile at this inky swan.
"Marcus Flint." The girl's eyes widened a bit more.
"Flint? Then you're Slytherin's captain, aren't you?"
"I see my reputation precedes me."
'No, it's just, everyone talks about you around here," she said, making a small gesture to the emerald draped walls of the house's comfortable dungeons. "And I can't help but listen sometimes."
"And what do they say?" Marcus was genuinely interested in his gossip. However, the low bass of his voice lent his words to a more suave manner of speaking than he had awareness of. And somehow, Liz liked it.
"Well, mostly they, well, the girls, talk about what a great flyer you are."
"Oh." He said, slightly disappointed.
"And, how… cute… you were…" Liz blushed slightly at her words. She's never said such a thing to a guy before, let alone one she'd just met. Even if it was true.
"Ah, that's more like it." He said, laughing, which caused a small giggle from her.
"So, are you working on homework? McGonagal's essay?"
"No… just some poems…"
"Poems? You write? I mean, you find time to write? Wow… I can barely find time to breathe in between school and practice."
"Well, its not too hard."
"Hard? When do you have time for it? I swear I spend at least three hour every night on homework alone."
"That's just because you don't know how to budget your time correctly."
"Then teach me." He said, reaching out and sliding the book off of her lap, closing it and placing it beside her on the floor. He pulled a chair up closer to her and sat down in it, while Liz watched, a bemusedly pleasant expression on her face.
"Well, first of all, you need to get you're work done in class."
"But I do."
"Right. But if you get it done as quickly as they're all meant to be done…"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, take potions for example. All it is is measuring and pouring exactly. You can finish with your class work in fifteen minutes, which leaves you more than an hour to devote to other things. So long as you play like you're measuring and having a terrible time of it when Snape walks around, you'll have no trouble with him."
"Then in charms, once you've got the basic swish and flick you're good to go. Just pay attention when he says the incantation, syllable stresses are very important. Copy him to the letter and you're done. That's another hour."
Marcus just stared at her with dumb fascination.
"Do you know, it's taken you a week to figure out what most, if not all of this school, hasn't in seven years?"
"Yes, well, I am an American. We do have a knack for cutting corners, I suppose." She said, offering him a smile.
"Yes, I suppose you have…" he was lost in that smile, in the serene surety of it. She knew what she was doing, in all things, it seemed to him. And she was so, lovely. Not that it mattered. But it certainly helped.
"Well, I'd better get to bed. You'd better too. Don't want to miss breakfast tomorrow."
"Of course not. Best Danishes in the wizarding world, I'm assured of it." He chuckled.
Liz stood up, letting the gown fall over her long legs. She bent over and picked up her notebook, hugging it protectively to her chest.
"Good night." She murmured before scurrying out of the room and disappearing behind the girl's dorm's doors. Marcus leaned back in his chair and sighed.
"Whatever else may happen," he cooed encouragingly to the fire, "She will be mine."
"Alright guys, get some sleep. Good practice." Came a lowly voice that commanded with its silence. The shuffling started off towards the dorms, and soon the common room was as quiet as the grave once more.
Marcus Flint sighed and ran a hand through his unruly mess of black curls. Practice had been especially grueling tonight. He hated taking the field last, especially after Gryfindor and that damned Oliver Wood. Every muscle in his body ached from the chilly night flying but his mind was suffering the worst fatigue of all. Classes had begun to take a toll on the seventh year and with homework and Quiddtich practice, his schedule was filling up far too quickly for his liking. All he needed was some time off. That and a nice hot shower. He smiled, realizing that a shower was something in his immediate power and he turned to do just that. But something caught his eye, a small white figure curled up in one of the large high-backed chairs before the fire. He cautiously crept forward to get a better look, careful so as not to hit the few loose, squeaky floorboards that dotted the ground like land minds. The white figure came into focus as a young girl, well, a young woman, wild brown curls falling about her shoulders, thick glass with delicate little frames masking her eyes set on a slender, creamy face. She was clothed in a simple white nightgown that covered her legs, which were at present curled up underneath her, aiding the repose of a book that lay open in her lap.
A few steps closer showed it not to be a book, but a notebook, across which the girl's slender fingers moved a billowy quill, producing the most elegant script the Slytherin captain had ever seen.
"Mind some company?" he asked before he even new he'd opened his mouth. The girl's head snapped up to look at the intruder on her solitude, and Flint noticed her eyes widening a bit behind her glasses when she spotted him.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone else was up." She said softly. Marcus was awed by the softness, the gentleness of her tones, which sent a small shiver through his heart, though it was probably nothing.
"Not too many are, I think. We just got back from practicing after dinner. I hope we didn't disturb you." He added, shooting a concerned look at her writing.
'No, not at all, thank you." That voice, he thought, it's so different…
Then it hit him.
"You're the new girl, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. Elizabeth Shakespeare, nice to meet you." She said, holding out her hand. Her small, white hand, he thought as he took it. Then he noticed the telltale ink stains of a writer's hands and he couldn't help but smile at this inky swan.
"Marcus Flint." The girl's eyes widened a bit more.
"Flint? Then you're Slytherin's captain, aren't you?"
"I see my reputation precedes me."
'No, it's just, everyone talks about you around here," she said, making a small gesture to the emerald draped walls of the house's comfortable dungeons. "And I can't help but listen sometimes."
"And what do they say?" Marcus was genuinely interested in his gossip. However, the low bass of his voice lent his words to a more suave manner of speaking than he had awareness of. And somehow, Liz liked it.
"Well, mostly they, well, the girls, talk about what a great flyer you are."
"Oh." He said, slightly disappointed.
"And, how… cute… you were…" Liz blushed slightly at her words. She's never said such a thing to a guy before, let alone one she'd just met. Even if it was true.
"Ah, that's more like it." He said, laughing, which caused a small giggle from her.
"So, are you working on homework? McGonagal's essay?"
"No… just some poems…"
"Poems? You write? I mean, you find time to write? Wow… I can barely find time to breathe in between school and practice."
"Well, its not too hard."
"Hard? When do you have time for it? I swear I spend at least three hour every night on homework alone."
"That's just because you don't know how to budget your time correctly."
"Then teach me." He said, reaching out and sliding the book off of her lap, closing it and placing it beside her on the floor. He pulled a chair up closer to her and sat down in it, while Liz watched, a bemusedly pleasant expression on her face.
"Well, first of all, you need to get you're work done in class."
"But I do."
"Right. But if you get it done as quickly as they're all meant to be done…"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, take potions for example. All it is is measuring and pouring exactly. You can finish with your class work in fifteen minutes, which leaves you more than an hour to devote to other things. So long as you play like you're measuring and having a terrible time of it when Snape walks around, you'll have no trouble with him."
"Then in charms, once you've got the basic swish and flick you're good to go. Just pay attention when he says the incantation, syllable stresses are very important. Copy him to the letter and you're done. That's another hour."
Marcus just stared at her with dumb fascination.
"Do you know, it's taken you a week to figure out what most, if not all of this school, hasn't in seven years?"
"Yes, well, I am an American. We do have a knack for cutting corners, I suppose." She said, offering him a smile.
"Yes, I suppose you have…" he was lost in that smile, in the serene surety of it. She knew what she was doing, in all things, it seemed to him. And she was so, lovely. Not that it mattered. But it certainly helped.
"Well, I'd better get to bed. You'd better too. Don't want to miss breakfast tomorrow."
"Of course not. Best Danishes in the wizarding world, I'm assured of it." He chuckled.
Liz stood up, letting the gown fall over her long legs. She bent over and picked up her notebook, hugging it protectively to her chest.
"Good night." She murmured before scurrying out of the room and disappearing behind the girl's dorm's doors. Marcus leaned back in his chair and sighed.
"Whatever else may happen," he cooed encouragingly to the fire, "She will be mine."