The first Quidditch match of the year was drawing near. Slytherin would be going up against Gryffindor on the pitch, and Marcus saw less and less of Oliver outside the great hall because of the intense training schedules. He knew Oliver was pushing his players to the max, and Marcus had every intention to do the same to his own team. Wood was known for his overcomplicated game strategies, but Marcus too had tricks up his sleeves. They hadn't won the housecup two years in a row now for nothing. Those gits for teammates of his were not getting out of it despite their constant complaints.

He really, really wanted to win the Quidditch cup. It wasn't enough that they'd won the two previous years, he wanted one last bang before leaving Hogwarts, and he knew Oliver did as well. Deep down, beneath the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, Marcus wanted to see Oliver win too. Wanted to see Oliver's face light up as he was handed the trophy. Realistically this was not possible, because he couldn't have it both ways, and perhaps his want to win was a bit stronger than his will to see the Gryffindors take home the cup. He was all for Gryffindor beating out Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, they could have that, but when it came to the Slytherin team… well, Oliver could suck it.

Marcus made it down to the pitch before everyone else, hoping he'd get some extra laps in before having to deal with the headache that was the Slytherin Quidditch team. He shouldn't have been surprised to find Oliver there. Especially not so close to their first game of the year.

"Oi, stop spying on our practice time" Oliver landed next to him smoothly.

"Don't flatter yourself Flint. Nothing worth stealing anyways."

"Is that why we've won the cup for the last two years and not you?"

"Oh, it's like that?" Wood arched a playful eyebrow. "My seeker's gone AWOL two years in a row. I'd hardly claim you've won on pure talent over sheer dumb luck." Marcus was about to retort when his fellow teammates started ascending onto the pitch. So much for extra laps. He must have miscalculated the time.

"Stop flirting, Flint. Send "lover boy" over here off so we can start practice." Pucey bemused, causing Marcus' cheeks to burn hot. Oliver did not react to Adrian's words, instead he shrugged it off, after all, he was used to it. Adrian was notorious for running his mouth. Eventually everyone learned to pay it no mind. Oliver left with a quick "See you at dinner" towards Marcus, as the chaser glared daggers at Pucey.

"Alright team," Marcus said after collecting himself, using his captain's voice. Harsh, loud and filled with authority. He made a mental note to deal with Adrian later. "We're going to start with doing laps, at least 50 each-" He stopped right in his tracks as his eyes landed on Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin teams seeker. He took hardly no time to recover before immediately reacting. "Malfoy. What. Happened?" he said through gritted teeth, referring to the fact that his seeker only seemed to have one functioning arm at the moment.

"I hurt myself in class," Malfoy shrugged, seemingly unbothered, "nothing too bad."

There was only one thing on Marcus' mind. "Will you be able to play?"

"Yeah, Madame Pomfrey said it was nothing, really." Malfoy said in a tired tone, as Marcus sighed in relief before he continued.

"Good, so," Marcus started again, before he was once again interrupted.

"Unless it has to be." Marcus looked up to see who had disrupted him, landing this time, on Higgs.

"Higgs, this is a private practice. Either sit on the stands, or get fucking lost!" Higgs seemed unfazed by the harsh edge to Marcus' words.

"What do you mean with 'unless it has to be'?" Montague asked, directing all his attention to Terence, ignoring his captain.

"Well," he started, making sure to flash Marcus the most heinous grin indicating that he'd won. All attention on him now. "Weather hasn't been so good lately, that's all." Which was true, there'd been a lot of rain as of late, leaving no one keen on the prospect of playing in it.

"Huh?" Bole said after a moment's silence, Derrick scratching his head as if thinking really hard. It was common knowledge that the pair were two halves of a whole idiot, and the state of them was rather laughable. Despite this, Marcus had to agree. Huh?

Higgs looked around expectantly, and when it didn't seem to click for anyone except Pucey, who always had the ability to read Terence's mind, he finally elaborated. "Malfoy's arm you idiots! It's like a get out of Azkaban free card. Use it!"

Marcus had finally caught on and was liking the idea, even if it did come from Higgs, and he hated admitting when the fucker was right. He was almost a little pissed he hadn't thought of the plan himself. Pucey nodded approvingly, Montague high-fiving Bole (who'd finally caught on) like they'd already won the Quidditch cup. They were celebrating something that had not yet happened, and the worst part was that Marcus wanted to join in. It was a foolproof plan. He was so busy being happy about it that he completely forgot something that suddenly came crashing down on him: Oliver.

The keeper would murder him. This would be a betrayal. Worming themselves out of a match the Gryffindors still had to face, throwing another team under the bus. To be perfectly honest, he actually didn't much care about the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Yes, he'd rather see them win over others, but his team came first. One thing he couldn't deny though, was that he did care about Oliver. Undeterred by this, he could not let that stop him. The well-being of his team and their shot at the Quidditch cup came first, and if this was a way for them to secure a victory, then hell, he was going to take it.

Despite the fact that Marcus approved of Terence's plan, he still forced him off the pitch, and made his team do laps. Everyone except, to Marcus' dismay, Malfoy. ("What if someone sees he can fly? Then no one would believe he's actually hurt!" Higgs had argued). The team had left the pitch sore but more pleased than ever, and Marcus and Malfoy broke away from the herd to inform Snape of the "unfortunate" circumstances that had come up. Luckily, there was no need for effort in convincing their professor. He'd just asked Malfoy to move his arm a bit, and when the kid had fake moaned in pain, Snape had seemed satisfied enough. Marcus was sure their head of house saw through the act, but perhaps he too really wanted them to win, and therefore decided to overlook the obvious cop out.

He joined his fellow Slytherins for dinner, Pucey and Higgs chatting animatedly about something with Oliver, who beamed when he came nearer. "Good practice?" That joyous feeling of victory from before quickly vanished from sight when he saw Oliver's face.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Adrian said in his place, Wood retaliating by throwing a napkin on Pucey's face, causing Higgs to snicker. Marcus sat himself down next to the keeper, as not to look directly at him.

"You alright?" Oliver had stopped paying attention to Pucey and Higgs, who now were wrapped up in throwing napkins at each other, and Marcus felt his heart sink in his chest. "You look like you've seen a ghost or something." Oliver's attempt at a joke lingered in the air awkwardly as Marcus was unable to speak. That settled the matter.

Wood had dragged him with such force down to the pitch after dinner that Marcus hardly had time to complain. He probably couldn't have even if he wanted to, seeing as his words were stuck in his throat, refusing to surface.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"S'nothing" he managed to mumble out.

"Bullshit, tell me now before I hex it out of you."

"I'd love to see you try." More mumbling. Marcus was known to be better at hexing than Oliver, and it amused him greatly that Oliver had threatened to do him in, when they both knew Marcus could probably take him. This fact also made it depressing that Marcus was close to flunking out whilst Oliver was actually doing quite well. He blamed it on Weasley.

"Marcus." Oliver wasn't angry, but he was stern and serious. The keeper had perfected his way of telling someone he was disappointed in them with just the right tone in his voice, something that was required of him after dealing with the Weasley twins for such a long time. Marcus knew there was no way to avoid telling him what had happened during practice, figured his friend would probably prefer to hear it from him, and decided to just rip the bandaid off.

"So you meant to tell me that we are not playing you in our upcoming game?" Marcus shook his head, seeing the light disappear from the keepers eyes. "But that's bollocks." Oliver continued, his voice rising in anger.

"Malfoy is hurt." Marcus said simply, avoiding Oliver's eyes as he spoke. They had no power over him as long as he didn't look directly at them.

"So?!" Oliver shrieked. "You can't have someone else play? I'm sure Higgs can get off his lazy arse for one game!" Marcus had expected Oliver's reaction, and stood still as his best friend continued to glare at him with accusatory eyes as if it was Marcus' fault that Malfoy had hurt himself in the first place.

"Nah, Higgs loves to see us suffer." It amazed him how easily the words were escaping now.

"Except you're not." Oliver's voice broke at the last word.

"Sorry?"

"You're not suffering. You lose nothing. We're the ones who are suffering Flint!" Marcus had known Oliver for what felt like an eternity, and he could never quite remember a time he'd ever seen Oliver this frustrated, not even when Puddlemere lost in the final that one time. It was unsettling to say the least.

"Ollie-" Marcus tried, speaking softer than he normally would.

"Forget it." And like that, Oliver had turned and started heading up towards the castle. Marcus hung back, acknowledging that Wood needed space. Hell, if it was the other way around Marcus knew he'd need it too.

The next morning as Marcus sat down with Oliver and Weasley for breakfast, their conversation died down, leaving a tense silence in its place.

"Morning." He tried to no avail, as the two Gryffindors stayed quiet. Weasley was reading the prophet as usual, paying Marcus little to no attention, which was what he'd normally prefer. Oliver on the other hand, was peculiarly quiet. He knew this was for the other day. Wood clearly needed more space. So Marcus granted it. He kept quiet as they ate.

Eventually Weasley folded his paper, and started getting up. "Marcus, I'm expecting you in the library during our long break today to continue with your transfiguration studies. Oliver, I'll see you in class." He didn't wait for a reply before scurrying off with purpose. Weasley always walked around with purpose. It annoyed Marcus into another lifetime. Not long after the redheads departure Oliver got up and headed out of the great hall. Marcus shoved what was left of his toast in his mouth before scurrying after the keeper.

"Ollie. Oliver!" Marcus shouted after him. People from all houses stared as Marcus hurried after the Gryffindor boy, who'd by now picked up his pace. "Wood!" No response. Marcus was running now to keep up. He scattered his brain for the solution, and finally, it hit him. "Pitch! Now!" Oliver stopped right in his tracks, as did Marcus. The onlookers held their breaths waiting to see what would happen. Marcus knew Wood would follow, so he turned away and started walking towards the pitch. If there was one thing that was holy in their friendship, it was this.

"What?" Wood asked a couple of minutes later, as they stood on the pitch. Both aware that they were skipping class. Something that probably wasn't helping Marcus' case.

"Why're you ignoring me?" Wood scoffed at the question, and Marcus felt stupid for even asking. "I mean, well, I know. But… well…"

"Is that all, or?" Oliver's patience was running low, and he was ready to leave at any moment.

"Get over yourself you twat, you think you can just walk around not talking to me because one of my players got injured?" He tried to reason, even though he knew that if the roles were reversed he probably would have been doing the same thing. That's the thing though, the roles never would be reversed, because Oliver would never pull a stunt like this.

"I spoke to Potter, Flint. He told me it's all bullshit!"

"Potter doesn't know shit!" Marcus tried to defend, but Oliver was not listening and Marcus definitely understood why.

"I really thought we could have one year, where you didn't try to weasel your way to the Quidditch cup, but no! Your lot needs to cheat your way to everything!"

"Your lot?" All sympathy quickly vanished. "Your lot?" He repeated, practically fuming. His temperament betrayed him as per usual. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh please, as if you don't know! Ever since my first Quidditch game here, Slytherin has been playing nothing but dirty. With you as their captain, I'd dare say it's even worse."

"Oh really now? What about your lot? A house filled with people with stupid herocomplexes who think themselves superior because the headmaster just happens to have been in their house and because you've got Potter, a half arse celebrity to flaunt. You're so sure everyone loves you, when really, everyone just puts up with you because they've decided they hate us more. At least in Slytherin, we're aware no one likes us."

"Then why are you wasting your time. No ones forcing you to spend time with the stupid heroxcomplex Gryffindor who thinks himself superior. You're the one who came after me, remember? You chased me down."

"Because you're my stupid Gryffindor." He really didn't mean to say it like that, but it was the truth. Marcus despised most of the Gryffindors, and all that they stood for on top of that. He did not, though, hate Oliver Wood. Despite his Gryffindor esque, rather because of it. All the reasons Wood was a Gryffindor, were reasons Marcus liked him, which made absolutely no sense, but what could he do? "Gosh Wood. Yeah, you're someone who gets off on helping people, and true, sometimes it's messed up, but… you're my best friend, remember? I can accept that you're a stupid Gryffindor as long as you can accept that I'm a stupid Slytherin."

Marcus' words had left them in silence, a brash contrast to their previous shouting. It was Oliver who finally broke it. "A really, really stupid Slytherin." There was no malice to his words.

"Yeah, the dumbest of the lot."

"I don't know man, Crabbe and Goyle could probably give you a run for your money." Marcus caught Oliver's eyes. The keeper was grinning now.

"Wow, someone finds themselves clever."

"It's because I am."

"Yeah, sure you are." Oliver hit him lightly on the arm, and Marcus was positively melting. Everything was going to be alright.

"Git." Oliver said fondly. "I'm still pissed," he noted. "But I guess I don't have to give you the silent treatment forever." Marcus let out a heavy sigh. Sure, Wood was probably still going to be pissed for a while, and rightfully so, but in that moment, Marcus knew it would pass. This fight was not the end of their friendship. He let Oliver pull him in for a hug, and he found himself memorizing every single detail. It dawned on him that he'd probably fuck up so badly some day, that a confrontation down by the pitch couldn't save them. And then he wouldn't be able to touch anymore. He loved to touch, to feel, to have Wood as close to him as possible without raising any suspicion. He needed to take it all in, just in case he ever were to lose him.

Not in case he lost him… when he lost him. A shiver ran through his entire body as Wood let him go, telling him they should probably get to class. As he made his descent from the pitch he made a promise to himself that this wouldn't be the last time. He wasn't ready for that yet. He never would be.

Marcus had scarcely avoided detention for being late to class. Luckily it was potions, and Snape had a tendency to overlook misbehaviour when it came to the Slytherins. He'd barely managed to do the class assignment, and had left class gloomy as per usual. Lunch came and went, and he was reminded that he was supposed to meet Percy in the library to study. He dragged himself over there, and found Percy alone at a table with a stern expression.

"You're late."

"M'not" he said simply, plunking onto a chair next to the redhead. Percy didn't respond to this. He just stared at Marcus like he was trying to read him. It made Marcus extremely uncomfortable. Like he was being observed. Some lab rat for Percy to analyze. He didn't like being analysed.

"I couldn't help but notice how Oliver was late to class today." He said finally, testing the waters.

"Yeah, so?" It came out more defensively than he'd intended.

"You made up then?" Marcus didn't answer. He just stared straight ahead.

"I'm not here to talk about Ollie, I'm here to not flunk transfiguration."

"Of course, but you see-"

"Look here Weasley, you and I" he motioned between them with his hand. "We're not friends. I merely tolerate your existence because Ollie likes you. It's cool or whatever that you're helping me with transfigurations and all, but beyond that we don't talk. So stop trying to weasel out "information" about stuff that frankly, is none of your damn business. Understood?" It always amazed Marcus how easily he'd lose his temper. He really needed to work on that.

Percy nodded and opened his transfiguration book. The Head Boy clearly knew something Marcus didn't. Maybe that's why he'd wanted to investigate. Marcus had meant it though, he didn't want to be Percy's project. Whatever was going on between him and Oliver was between the two of them, anyone else could piss off.

Oliver wasn't at dinner. He overheard some Gryffindors say the keeper had landed himself in detention after being late to class. Marcus felt a little guilty, knowing it was partially, if not all his fault. He sat with Higgs and Pucey like normal, feeling like the third wheel he absolutely was.

"Cheer up Flint," Adrian said after a while, "your lover will return soon." Marcus was reminded about practice the other day and how he still needed to handle Adrian.

"He is not my lover. Stop saying stuff like that." He tried to sound as threatening as he could muster. "What you said the other day down at the pitch was not cool man. Cut it out."

"What's this Ade, is poor Markie blushing?" Terence was sporting his usual shit eating grin. Marcus knew he wasn't blushing. He was not the blushing type. He proceeded to redirect his glare to Higgs instead.

"Piss off." The other boys laughed.

"Chill Flint, we're only fucking with you. We know you and Wood aren't 'lovers'."

"No, for that to happen you'd actually have to remove the stick up your arse and confess your feelings to him." Terence grin grew wider and sly, Adrian snickered, and Marcus was about to kill them both. He'd known he had it in him since the first time Terence opened his stupid mouth. Yet another reason why Marcus was a shit wizard. He'd rather resort to violence using his fists rather than his wand.

He threw his fork down on his plate and got up to leave.

"Cmon Flint," he heard Adrian shout after him. "We were only joking."

Marcus did not look back. He headed straight to the dungeons. How was it that everyone seemed to know about his crush on Wood? First Weasley, now Higgs and Pucey. Was it really that obvious? If it was, did Wood know and just didn't bring it up?

He'd always thought of himself as good at hiding his feelings, but apparently that was not the case, as half the bloody castle seemed to know about them. He kept walking gloomily. The common room was left empty at this hour due to everyone being at dinner. The only ones there were a group of first year girls giggling in a corner, and, to Marcus dismay, Malfoy, loungin on a couch.

"Where's Winkus and Dinkus?" Marcus asked, sitting down on the couch opposite him.

"Dinner." Malfoy answered, eyes closed as he massaged the brink of his nose.

"Why aren't you with them?"

"I have a terrible headache."

"It's pronounced Pucey and Higgs." Marcus didn't care enough about Malfoy to continue talking after that, instead he closed his own eyes and leaned his head on the headrest.

"Why're you here?" Malfoy said after a while. "Shouldn't you be with Wood or something?" This put some motion in him.

"What'd you say?"

"What?" Malfoy said, opening his eyes, and sitting up now as well. "Sensitive subject is it?" The little shit had the audacity to sound sly. "Calm down Flint, he's your mate isn't he?" Marcus relaxed at these words. Of course Oliver was his mate. His best mate. It wasn't weird for Malfoy to ask him about that, so why had he reacted the way he did? Why was mere association with the Gryffindor keeper a threat. It'd never been something that bothered him before.

"I'm heading to bed."

"Don't let me keep you." The younger boy had already returned to his lying position.

It was too early for him to actually be tired, so there he laid under his covers, overthinking instead of sleeping. How many knew he had a crush on Wood? Weasley clearly could tell. Marcus supposed that wasn't the end of the world, he knew the Head Boy had some sense in him. Sure he hexed better than Marcus, but when really aggravated Marcus' fists spoke volumes. Higgs and Pucey though, they were the real threat. If only they could keep their big mouths shut for once. As for Malfoy, well, it was still unclear if he knew or not. There was always the possibility that he didn't, Malfoy wasn't known for being the most observant person there is. It did leave the chaser with a bad feeling though. People knew now, and that really changed everything.

His brain shifted. Wood. Too good for him. He tried not to go down those paths considering he knew Oliver would disagree, but there was no denying it. Oliver had a future, a bright one playing professional Quidditch for Puddlemere United or some other team he'd easily get into because he actually was a decent enough player with the right drive to get him to the top. Marcus on the other hand was doomed to a life in misery. He just knew it. He lacked Slytherin ambition, he was on the verge of flunking out of the majority of his classes. It would be a miracle if he didn't flunk out completely. His parents were openly disappointed in him, and who could blame them? Their son was a complete and utter failure. There was no other way to put it. So yes, Oliver was in every aspect, too good for Marcus. And still, he was his friend. A damn good friend. Someone who'd stood by Marcus' side despite everything he'd done. Through every punch, temper tantrum, mistake. There'd been lots of mistakes.

Maybe Oliver Wood was too good for Marcus Flint. But perhaps that was a good thing. Oliver was ambitious, hard-working. He fought for everything he set his mind to, especially when it came to Quidditch. And Marcus, well Marcus wasn't like that. Sure, in Quidditch he most certainly was, which granted, was a joy for both him and Oliver, because at least that made the games interesting. As for everywhere else, Marcus was a bit of a slacker. And he supposes that's what balanced out the friendship. He never had to compete with Wood outside of the Quidditch pitch, and maybe that's why they were able to be friends. So maybe, just maybe, Oliver Wood being too good for him was actually a good thing.

Or maybe, just maybe… it sucked. Because Wood being too good for him made his feelings for him unfair. It wasn't right that he'd get someone like Oliver, and if the keeper ever were to reciprocate his feelings, Marcus would have to find a way to live with the knowledge that he'd played a part in holding Oliver back from getting everything he deserved. Which was a hell of a lot more than Marcus could ever offer. So yeah… maybe Oliver being too good for him actually really, really sucked.