A Moment of Selfishness

I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Warning: Slight underage (kissing)

Marcus Flint was terrifying. He was huge and heavily muscled, had a mean streak a mile wide, and had a perpetual sneer on his face when he encountered any student not in Slytherin.

Everything about Flint promised pain if you were to cross him, and the reality was that he would definitely follow through on his threats. When Marcus Flint threatened someone they got hurt. Always.

He wasn't the most attractive of individuals, with a harsh bone structure and plain colouring, but his presence alone made it hard to dismiss him.

Harry knew that Marcus Flint was terrifying, but he also knew that he'd found the older boy intriguing for years now. He was strangely captivated by the hulking mass that stalked the halls, scowling at everyone in sight and sending people running in fear. Even the sight of the Slytherin deliberately fouling other teams during Quidditch games or unrepentantly trying to crush Oliver's fingers was fascinating to the last Potter.

Everyone else, even the other Slytherins, tried to make their actions unknown. They flew under the radar and hid their morally-grey deeds, making sure they would never be caught doing something that would reflect badly on them.

Except for Marcus Flint.

He never tried to hide who he was. He was mean and enjoyed inflicting pain on others, and everyone knew it. Flint had never tried to dress up his actions as something they weren't and Harry could honestly say he was envious.

Harry had to make sure to be the perfect little Gryffindor or everyone would turn on him again, like the Heir of Slytherin stuff last year. He wasn't allowed to just be himself, because Harry wasn't a perfect little Gryffindor.

He knew full well that he could be selfish, running away from problems and being non-confrontational. He didn't want to deal with Voldemort all the time, and he had a feeling that Dumbledore knew a lot more than he was letting on.

He didn't want to be at the forefront of all the fighting; to be perfectly honest, if Hermione hadn't been there he would have begged Sirius to take him away and run away together. The wizarding world wasn't half it was cracked up to be and he was sick of everything. People turning against him at the drop of a hat, being bullied by teachers, having friends that wouldn't let you learn ...

Magic was supposed to fun, not tiring.

He wanted someone to take care of him for once, not the other way around.

"Do you mean that?"

Harry jolted at the sound of the voice. He'd thought the edge of the forest would be safe from wandering people but apparently not. He looked up to see the towering form of Marcus Flint, small grey eyes boring into his intensely. Apparently he'd spoken out loud.

He didn't know why, but the sight of the older boy - man, really - made his stomach squirm. Though perhaps those random dreams of being held tightly in those thick arms had been a little more telling that he'd wanted to admit. He really should stop living in denial.

"Did I mean what?" he questioned warily.

Flint glared at him. "Do you want someone to take care of you?"

Harry listened to the Slytherin's words and had a feeling the question was a lot more serious than it sounded. Was he really offering Harry a way out? Could Harry really do it, just casually give up the 'Golden Boy' persona he'd built up for three years?

Did he want to be cared for for once?

"Yes."

He might have whispered but his voice carried through the clearing, sounding frighteningly final for a simple word. He still didn't know what he'd agreed to but the glint of satisfaction in Flint's eyes made him shiver - though whether or not it was from fear was a question to be answered.

Flint stalked over to him and pulled him to his feet none too gently, before pushing his back against the tree and trapping him with his arms.

"I'll take care of you."

He leaned down, a massive 6'5'' to Harry's measly 5' and smashed their lips together. It was slightly painful and overwhelming, and Harry found he couldn't breathe before Flint softened the kiss - was it a kiss? - and helped him breathe through his nose.

Harry could feel large hands gripping tightly on his hips, fingers ever so slightly holding his arse, and he let go.

He wasn't in charge anymore.

A/N: Hello people :D

This was honestly a spur-of-the-moment chapter, though I hope you like it :)

This pairing was a request from misschief_managed on AO3, and I'll admit I quite like seeing fics with the lesser known Slytherin characters. They have so much potential for development.

Let me know what you think :D

See ya!