Warning: This is still slash.well sort of. Anyway it will be.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except what I'm trying to call the plot.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. Thank you all for your support and advice. I will try to write longer chapters. Please continue to R&R!!! I could still use any advice. Thank you again. All reviews are appreciated but please go easy on me a lot of this was done at like 3 am. Oh and did I say please R&R? yes? Oh well couldn't hurt to say it again. Please R&R, R&R, R&R!!! Thanx!
CHAPTER 2
'Why the fuck couldn't I fucking hit him?' Marcus thought bitterly as he walked away from the idiot still cowering on the floor. 'I could hit him,' he assured himself, 'I chose not to hit him, that's what it is, I didn't want to hit him. wait why didn't I want to hit him?' Marcus ran his hands through his sex tousled black hair. "FUCK!" he shouted crossly only to be frustrated further by noticing that he had been headed in the complete wrong direction since he had left Wood recoiling on the floor. "Fuck," he repeated in a much lower much more weary tone which he allowed no one to hear. Since he was already headed away from the dungeons and had no desire to turn around and pass Oliver Wood again, Marcus decided to go out to the quidditch field and fly around a bit to clear his mind, not that his mind needed clearing he told himself. "Accio Nimbus 2001," Flint commanded and waited for his broomstick.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
'Why didn't he hit me?' Oliver thought as he picked himself up off the floor and walked to where his notebook had landed after Flint threw it. Oliver liked using muggle writing supplies rather than the traditional quill and parchment, pens and notebooks just seemed so much more logical. 'He could have hit me, but he didn't, he just walked away' Wood's head was beginning to hurt and he told himself not to over analyze it. 'Flint's been known to knock out some ones teeth for looking at him wrong, so why did he just. ..stop thinking about it.' But Oliver couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop thinking about him. There had always been something, somewhat of an attraction, competitive intrigue as Oliver called it, "It's just that it helps to understand what you're up against" he had often said to the team. Oliver completely forgot why he had been headed down to the dungeons for in the first place and headed back to the dormitory to fetch his broom, he always came up with the best plays while he was flying around the field at night; he didn't even notice the rider less broom pass him on his way down the corridor back to the stairs.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
The air had the chill October as the wind bit the back of Marcus's neck when he kicked off the ground. 'Fuck,' thought Marcus, 'Who the FUCK does Wood think he is anyway? What gives him the right to.to.to.uh.what did he do?' Flint questioned himself. "To piss me off!" Marcus justified himself out loud. Flying higher still, letting the cool are lick his face, Marcus began to feel at ease, but Oliver Wood remained on the Slytherin's mind. Marcus groaned, 'None of this matters, I didn't want to hit him, so I didn't. Case closed. That's the end of it.' To finish convincing himself, Flint flew around in circles, through the goals, up and down, through the stands, and all around as fast as he could. If he had to worry about flying into something, Marcus couldn't very well focus on Wood, now could he? Obviously not, for he did not see Wood approaching from the castle, didn't see him getting on his broom, and certainly did not see the alarmed and confused look on Wood's face right before he crashed into him.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Oliver shivered as he walked out of the castle. 'What's the matter with him anyway?' Oliver wondered, 'Why does he always have to prove how evil he is why can't he just be normal, accept defeat every once in awhile? Is he really cruel or is it an act and if so why? Why are all slytherins assholes? Why do I care?' Wood could not stop thinking about it until he mounted his broom, at which point he forced himself to think of new strategies for next week's game. He kicked off the ground slightly harder than he had meant to, and was about to fly a couple of laps when he looked up just in time to see Flint's shoulder crash into his face. Oliver toppled backwards off his broom and hit the ground with a soft thud.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except what I'm trying to call the plot.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. Thank you all for your support and advice. I will try to write longer chapters. Please continue to R&R!!! I could still use any advice. Thank you again. All reviews are appreciated but please go easy on me a lot of this was done at like 3 am. Oh and did I say please R&R? yes? Oh well couldn't hurt to say it again. Please R&R, R&R, R&R!!! Thanx!
CHAPTER 2
'Why the fuck couldn't I fucking hit him?' Marcus thought bitterly as he walked away from the idiot still cowering on the floor. 'I could hit him,' he assured himself, 'I chose not to hit him, that's what it is, I didn't want to hit him. wait why didn't I want to hit him?' Marcus ran his hands through his sex tousled black hair. "FUCK!" he shouted crossly only to be frustrated further by noticing that he had been headed in the complete wrong direction since he had left Wood recoiling on the floor. "Fuck," he repeated in a much lower much more weary tone which he allowed no one to hear. Since he was already headed away from the dungeons and had no desire to turn around and pass Oliver Wood again, Marcus decided to go out to the quidditch field and fly around a bit to clear his mind, not that his mind needed clearing he told himself. "Accio Nimbus 2001," Flint commanded and waited for his broomstick.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
'Why didn't he hit me?' Oliver thought as he picked himself up off the floor and walked to where his notebook had landed after Flint threw it. Oliver liked using muggle writing supplies rather than the traditional quill and parchment, pens and notebooks just seemed so much more logical. 'He could have hit me, but he didn't, he just walked away' Wood's head was beginning to hurt and he told himself not to over analyze it. 'Flint's been known to knock out some ones teeth for looking at him wrong, so why did he just. ..stop thinking about it.' But Oliver couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop thinking about him. There had always been something, somewhat of an attraction, competitive intrigue as Oliver called it, "It's just that it helps to understand what you're up against" he had often said to the team. Oliver completely forgot why he had been headed down to the dungeons for in the first place and headed back to the dormitory to fetch his broom, he always came up with the best plays while he was flying around the field at night; he didn't even notice the rider less broom pass him on his way down the corridor back to the stairs.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
The air had the chill October as the wind bit the back of Marcus's neck when he kicked off the ground. 'Fuck,' thought Marcus, 'Who the FUCK does Wood think he is anyway? What gives him the right to.to.to.uh.what did he do?' Flint questioned himself. "To piss me off!" Marcus justified himself out loud. Flying higher still, letting the cool are lick his face, Marcus began to feel at ease, but Oliver Wood remained on the Slytherin's mind. Marcus groaned, 'None of this matters, I didn't want to hit him, so I didn't. Case closed. That's the end of it.' To finish convincing himself, Flint flew around in circles, through the goals, up and down, through the stands, and all around as fast as he could. If he had to worry about flying into something, Marcus couldn't very well focus on Wood, now could he? Obviously not, for he did not see Wood approaching from the castle, didn't see him getting on his broom, and certainly did not see the alarmed and confused look on Wood's face right before he crashed into him.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Oliver shivered as he walked out of the castle. 'What's the matter with him anyway?' Oliver wondered, 'Why does he always have to prove how evil he is why can't he just be normal, accept defeat every once in awhile? Is he really cruel or is it an act and if so why? Why are all slytherins assholes? Why do I care?' Wood could not stop thinking about it until he mounted his broom, at which point he forced himself to think of new strategies for next week's game. He kicked off the ground slightly harder than he had meant to, and was about to fly a couple of laps when he looked up just in time to see Flint's shoulder crash into his face. Oliver toppled backwards off his broom and hit the ground with a soft thud.
