A heavy grunt. Labored breathing.

He didn't know why exactly he agreed to this. He must not have been thinking clearly at the time; maybe a spot of some mind controlling potion was given to him subtly. Percy fell backwards on the grass. There was a thin trail of sweat glistening on his forehead. He covered his face with his arms, moaning at the pain radiating from his back. He regretted this. He regretted it already.

Marcus was standing above him, looking thoroughly unimpressed on the outside, but Percy saw through that- the amusement sparkling in his eyes was evident.

And rather annoying.

"Sod off," Percy's voice would've held more venom if he wasn't so bloody tired.

"I didn't say anything," Marcus chuckled.

"You want to."

"I do."

"You're probably laughing at me in your head."

"A little."

"Ugh," Percy felt much better just laying there. "I'm never doing this again."

"You said that the last time," Marcus pointed out, smirking. "And the time before that. And the-"

"Yes, yes," Percy cut him off. "I get it, thank you."

Forming a friendship with Marcus Flint was not how Percy had envisioned his summer going. His parents had warned him and his siblings against letting their guard down and becoming friends with what they believed to be the enemy.

Growing up, he heard repeatedly over and over his Slytherins were the unpleasant sort, generally to be regarded with caution because of who their families were. For the most part, that had been true. People like the Malfoys were the kind of people he didn't wish to associate with and he had assumed that Marcus was the same way.

But he wasn't. Marcus didn't hold the same blood purist beliefs that his family did. He didn't have any animosity toward muggles or muggleborns, but kept up the charade to avoid any unnecessary, possibly dangerous information to get back to his father.

Percy had been surprised to learn of that, a bit saddened, too, because as much as his own family grated on his very last nerve at times, they still loved and accepted him. He didn't have to fear for his life if he made a mistake, nor did he have to suffer under the wrath of Anthony Flint.

But he digressed.

He and Marcus had come across each other at a muggle park of all places. For Percy, he'd wanted to get away to bask in some quiet time without having to endure the rowdiness that was the Burrow. His summer homework was finished within the first week of the holiday which meant he had the rest of the time to spend doing whatever he pleased.

For Marcus, his reasoning for being there was less than pleasant. He'd gone to escape his father after a particularly nasty bout of the cruciatus curse for failing his N.E.W.T.S. Apparently, walking helped ease the pain.

"Weasley?"

Percy looked up in disbelief when he heard that voice. He didn't expect to see Flint there. But there he was; he stood rather stiffly and without a smirk or a sneer on his lips. Actually, he appeared to be quite puzzled, which was an unusual look for him.

"Flint," Percy didn't know what to say.

"I didn't know you came here," Flint shifted uncomfortably.

Percy inwardly mulled over what he said, which implied he'd come there before. Which, might he add, was a muggle park and Flint was a pureblood. A pureblood Slytherin with an ancient family.

And yet he was here.

"Yes," Percy shut his book with a snap. He laid it beside him on the bench. "I wanted some peace and quiet."

"Yeah," Flint muttered. "Me too."

Percy came to learn the truth a few weeks later. In that moment, he'd somehow known that the Slytherin wasn't entirely telling the truth. He wouldn't meet his eyes and was he- in pain? Percy noticed the subtle grimacing, the sharp intake of breath. Something had happened. The question being, what? They lapsed into silence, neither knowing what to say to the other person that they'd been at odds with since they first met.

"Would you," Percy began carefully, "would you like to sit down? I'm nearly finished. Or you can certainly continue your walk." He didn't know what made him offer, just that something was screaming out to him that something wasn't right.

Flint had stared at him for the longest time. Percy stared back, feeling highly unsure of how to proceed. Eventually, he did sit down. It was awkward initially; They mostly sat in silence and just when Percy thought that Flint was going to leave or suddenly start to laugh, revealing that it'd all been a trick, he remarked on the weather.

The weather .

It started out as meaningless conversation. Prompting a one worded or two worded response. Then Flint had grunted out a goodbye, rising to his feet. Percy watched him walking away until his large form disappeared from view. He didn't think he was going to see him again until Hogwarts. Only, however, he did. Much to his surprise, though he didn't so much as verbalize it in case it would jinx it, he found Flint sitting on the bench a few days later. He kept coming back and it enabled them to fall into some sort of odd routine. They would both come to the park a few days a week, settling into a decent conversation that soon felt much more naturel.

Percy discovered that the big brute was far more intelligent than he originally was led to believe. Flint could keep up with his topics, adding in his own opinions, some of which left the red head impressed. Once they got to know each other more, the topics turned more lighthearted, more personal. Quidditch, Oliver and his fanatical ways, romantic interest and finally, Percy's noodle arms as Flint referred to them.

"Do you work out at all?" Flint once asked, eyeing the red head's skinny frame.

Percy raised his eyebrows. "No."

"Oh. Well you should."

"Did you just insult me?" Percy said, mildly.

Flint-Marcus grinned. "Think of it as constructive criticism."

Percy snorted.

Which brought him to this point.

"Do you want a break?" Marcus asked, who was surprisingly kind when he was by himself.

Percy could only nod, still breathing quite heavily.

"Here," Marcus passed him some water. "You did good. Better than last time. You're just going a little fast, try to slow down."

Percy despised the sit ups that Marcus was insistent he do, that and the push ups. Oh, Godric, he'd been a trembling mess the first time doing those. "Right," he muttered.

"You're doing better," Marcus said, encouragingly. "Still a bit scrawny-" Percy gave an indignant huff. "-but not as bad as Potter."

"Oh, leave Harry out of this," Percy sighed without any malice.

Scrawny his bum. But he knew Marcus was trying to wind him up. Percy's arms had really improved and gained more muscle than he expected. His abdomen was more toned as well. He had to admit, it was nice seeing girls notice him. He and Penny had quietly broken up at the end of last term and while he had no plans to jump back into dating, he did like that the female population was admiring him. Even if it was just a few muggle girls. He'd caught one of them in the act last week; she'd blushed pink and giggled as she turned away.

Marcus shrugged. "S'the truth. Now if you're ready, we can get to the next part."

"Next part?" Percy gaped. "What 'next part'?"

"The push ups that you've been avoiding."

Percy groaned.

"Oh, come off it. Don't quit now. You've been doing alright-when you're not whining that is."

"I do not whine ," Percy protested.

Marcus snorted but said nothing else.

"I don't whine!"

"I don't know, you're doing a pretty good impression of it right now," Marcus drawled.

"Tosser," Percy mock scowled.

"Anyone ever tell you, you've got a mouth on you, Weasley?"

"Anyone ever tell you, you're ridiculously ruthless, Flint ?"

"Adrian has after quidditch practice."

"I'm not surprised," Percy agreed. "You're as nutters as Oliver is."

Marcus made a sputtering noise, which was rather dramatic in Percy's opinion. "Don't compare me to Wood!"

"As I see it, you're both competitive, have a tendency to forgo any responsible decision making and you're both obsessed with quidditch. Therefore, my comparison is valid."

"This isn't class, Percy," Marcus shook his head with a hint of a smile. "You don't have to talk like Mcgonagall."

Percy should've kicked him.

"Alright, you've stalled long enough," Marcus bent down, chuckling.

Percy grunted but turned over and got into position. "I hate you already."

"Little late to the party."

Percy rolled his eyes, beginning the exercise slowly, precisely. It bloody hurt like the Dickens, soon he was huffing and groaning and wishing for it to be over.

"Why-" he panted. "Are you...not...doing...anything?"

Marcus sat down beside him, lazily. "Do I look like I need to, Weasley?"

Percy didn't dignify him with a response.