I sat in detention that evening, with MgGonagal repeatedly explaining the importance of magical theory and how I had been disrespectful to her. I nodded in all the right places and apologised multiple times, yet she did not let me go to Quiddich practise. I had left Harry in charge of the practise, which resulted in Angelina having a rather loud talking to me about how unfair it was as she had been in the team longer and was more experienced. And to top it off, Katie had been crying with Alicia earlier on today in the common room and they swiftly left when I entered.

One by one, I was losing my friends.

MgGonagal now had me doing lines, lines for fuck sake. How this was supposed to stop me answering her back I had no idea, but I sat there and did it, hoping that if I got this done quickly she might let me go.

My arm was aching, it had been about 2 hours since I started and the words I must learn to respect my teachers were swimming around in my head until they lost all meaning.

There was a knock on the door, MgGonagal called them inside and to no surprise it was Flint who walked through the door.

"Mister Wood is almost finished," she said, "you can sit over there and I will deal with you in a moment." She said gesturing to a seat on the other side of the classroom. I did not make eye contact with him even though I could feel his eyes on me; I tried to focus on my writing so that I could leave as soon as possible. As he passed me I got a waft of him, it was a mixture of the cologne he was wearing and his general smell, and it gave me a warm feeling in my stomach. I breathed deeply and closed my eyes. I could hear him pulling out the chair which scrapped along the floor, and dumping his back underneath the table.

Moments later there was a huge bang from upstairs, so forceful that bits of dust fell from the lamps and bookcases in the room. I almost fell off my chair in shock and the other occupants of the room looked just as startled. MgGonagal looked from me to Flint.

"I will be back momentarily," she said, "Neither of you move a muscle, or you'll be in detention every night for the near future." She said finally, and walked hurriedly out of the room.

I gratefully put my pen down on the table and stretched my arms out before slumping back in my chair, determinedly ignoring Flint, who I knew was looking at me, that familiar smirk settled on his face.

"You can't ignore me forever you know." He said.

I looked at my lines with pure loathing, "I can try my hardest though." I replied.

I heard him chuckle, "You can't ignore your dick though."

Maybe he had noticed how uncomfortable I had become, for he didn't say anything else. But that didn't make sense, since when did Flint care if I was uncomfortable or not. I looked up at him at last to find that he was still looking at me, but he was not smirking, nor looking particularly please with himself. For a brief moment we just looked at each other, blue eyes met brown.

It was him who looked away first; I looked back to my lines and attempted to carry on, a seemingly impossible task with the distraction I was now facing.

"Will you meet me tonight?" he asked quietly, I looked up again, not sure I had heard him right.

"What?" I asked.

"Tonight, will you meet me at the Quiddich pitch?"

I didn't understand, did he really expect me to meet him after all that he had put me through over the past week.

"Ok," I replied before I could stop myself. Maybe he wanted to explain his actions, maybe he just wanted to mess me around a bit more, but either way I was curious.

MgGonagal stormed back in the room making me jump slightly, "Those Weasley's," she muttered angrily. "Wood you are dismissed." She said briefly. I picked up my bag and looked quickly at Flint, who held up 10 fingers. I nodded understandingly and took my lines to MgGonagal, who whisked them out of my hands and waved her hand dismissively while writing what was clearly a letter home to the Weasley's.

At 10pm I left the Gryffindor common room and made my way through the corridors littered with students on their way to bed. They all looked so normal, so carefree. I used to feel like that, but since everything, I don't know, I just don't feel the same anymore. I feel like I'm being judged, constantly. Like they all know what's going on, they can read my thoughts. I've become so paranoid; I've started separating myself from all my friends. I've seen tears in Katy's eyes as I make another lousy excuse not to spend time with her. But they don't understand, they all look at me differently now, I go through different phases, sometimes I'm positive that there is no possible way they know what I'm thinking about, but sometimes I feel like they are looking at me disgustedly, knowing every little thought going through my head.

I pushed open the door of the quiddich changing room and looked around. It was empty. My stomach dropped, I'd been stood up, and I knew it. I cursed myself for trusting Flint's words. I could feel anger at him and myself boiling up, even he didn't want me, my friends had abandoned me and now Flint had as well. I didn't want to wait; I turned to leave, tears welling up in my eyes, but found myself face to face with him. It reminded me of that fateful match day. Except I was not angry or confused this time. I was relieved, and in a way, I suppose I was happy. Although I never thought I'd say that on site of Flint.

"You're late." I said gruffly.

He nodded, "But for good reason," he replied, he pulled out a large bottle of fire-whiskey and grinned. I couldn't help but smile, his crooked grin was in a way…charming. It was different from the malicious grin I so often saw plastered on his face, it was genuinely happy.

"How'd you get that?" I asked.

"I got it at the Hogs Head last Hogsmeade visit," he answered, "It was pretty hard getting it out my dorm without the other guys seeing."

He sat on one of the benches and pulled the bottle cap off with his crooked teeth.

"We jus' got the bottle," he said, lifting it to his lips and taking a long swig.

I was still not very relaxed; I wasn't sure what he was expecting to happen tonight. He appeared to notice my apprehension and held out the bottle for me. I approached him and took the bottle slowly, my last alcoholic experience had resulted in me running around the Gryffindor common room in my underwear shouting "I love quiddich!" and telling Fred (who was, in-fact, George) that I had a friend who looked just like him.

Never the less I took a long gulp and sat beside him. Not too close, but close enough for feel the his warmth, and I knew that tonight would present a whole new side to Marcus Flint, which I would guess, not many people had seen before.

At some point we had made out way onto the quiddich pitch, but we had drunk so much I could not remember when. I was standing, but barely. I kept tripping on my own feet and regaining my balance, before repeating.

Several times.

Marcus had already taken the sensible option and was laying on the floor laughing at me. I grinned blearily.

"You're drunk," he stated, but his words were slurred too. I grinned and tried walking over too him, but in the state I was in it was not easy.

I stumbled and landed mere inches away from him. I could smell his cologne mixed with the whiskey, it made my senses tingle. I lay on my back beside him; we lay there in silence for a while, until I finally said.

"So what did you want me for?"

He turned his head to look at me, "I wanted to say sorry," he snorted, "but I didn't think I could do it sober."

I grinned drunkenly, "You, Marcus Flint, are too proud." I said prodding him in the chest.

He chuckled, "I know." He rolled onto his side and propped himself up by his elbow. "I don't know what's come over me though, I feel different than I used to."

I nodded, "You're gay." I stated.

He shoved me weakly, it probably would have hurt if he could co-ordinate himself properly. "No I'm not."

I sighed, "Ok you're not."

He gave me a look which said, stop humouring me. I grinned and he did too, and carried on. "We're not that different you know." He said to me.

"No?" I replied.

"Nope. Both competitive, both private, both in denial."

I frowned, "I'm not in denial."

He laughed at me and gave me another shove "Ok whatever." He replied.

We both lay there in silence again.

"I'm only doing this," he spoke again, "Because I need someone at the moment, and I think you do too." He said.

"Why do you need someone?" I asked, ignoring his statement that I needed someone too.

"I had a rough summer." He said, his tone made it obvious that he didn't want to carry on. "I'm telling you this, because I don't want you to think it's because I have feelings for you."

I nodded, hopefully he thought I felt the same, if he knew the feelings I had been feeling he would laugh at me.

"Shall we go inside?" he said in a no nonsense manner. I glanced over to the Quiddich changing rooms, they didn't look particularly inviting but right now it didn't matter.

Flint looked at me through bleary eyes from the alcohol. Our eyes were locked for I could not guess how long. All I knew was that staring into those deep brown eyes was telling me that something was about to happen. The alcohol in my system was not the reason I was so attracted to him, I had felt this way for weeks. I took in every aspect of his face, his dark eyes and long eyelashes. His scarred, but otherwise flawless skin. His lips, his crooked smile. His dark floppy hair. I could not believe I had never seen this side of Flint before, it was beautiful. It was only then that I realised how misunderstood he was. Everybody saw him as the Slytherin bully. No one really looked.

I could hear nothing but our breathing, and I could barely believe I was here, alone in the quiddich changing rooms of all places, with Flint, who I had been thinking about while wanking in the shower ever since the night of my dream. Although the scene wasn't quite right. In the back of my mind I was still thinking, 'I'm not gay', and I think he felt the same even though it was him who had made the first move only days ago.

Never the less, he gripped my hand tightly, still staring at me. I have to admit I was slightly nervous; I didn't like all this waiting around, so I took matters into my own hands.

I launched forward with so much force I almost fell off the bench, and locked lips with Flint. He didn't stop me, completely the opposite in-fact. He brought his hand around the back of my head and pushed gently, making the kiss even more forceful, entwining his fingers in my hair. I slipped my tongue into his mouth and could feel him smiling at my eagerness. I couldn't quite understand why I was doing this, I'm not gay. Yet I did not want to stop.

He seemed to notice that my heart was not in it and broke off but did not move much, our noses were still touching slightly and I could feel his breath on my wet lips, it made a shiver run down my spine. We looked at each other briefly.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Flint asked me.

"Just do it." I said moodily. I'm not gay.

He removed his top and I removed mine. I had seen him topless before after quiddich matches but I had never properly looked.

He was so toned and muscular; it resembled my own body, a quiddich player's body, only I was more tanned. He stood up and removed his trousers and I did the same. It was not romantic, but it didn't need to be, we were not in love, we didn't even like each other that much. He kissed me again before I had time to resist, and then turned me around so I was facing the wall. He pulled down my boxers until they could drop to the ground freely.

He ran two fingers gently down my spine and I shivered slightly, his fingers carried on down my body until they reached my ass. I tensed as his fingers crept to my opening, he pushed one in, the pain was immense, he was not being gently or slow, he didn't not keep his finger there for long however, I could feel his erection behind me.

He was not a patient man.

I knew the feeling.

He removed his finger slowly making sure I felt everything. I couldn't tell if he had done this before, I wouldn't put it past him, he seemed fairly experienced but of course, I had nothing to compare him to. He kissed the back of my neck. I braced myself as much as possible. I knew what was coming next. He pushed his dick in to me, more gently than he had his fingers. I was glad as the pain was much worse. I gasped, feeling like my skin was ripping, and I wouldn't be surprised if I was bleeding. I clenched my fists, my nails dug into my palms, I could hear his breathing become heavier behind me and I smiled slightly in satisfaction, but as he pushed himself further in my smile left and I screwed up my face with the pain.

He was about half way in when he stopped and I could feel why. It felt like there was no way in hell he would get any deeper. The pain was unbearable; I felt like I could pass out at any second, I needed some support. I reached out in-front of me for something, anything to help me, but all that was in-front of me was a shiny white tiled wall. Flint seemed to notice my sudden struggle to stay conscious; he reached around my stomach and held me with one of his strong arms.

"Relax," he whispered softly in my ear.

So I did, well I tried, it wasn't easy, but as I relaxed the pain eased slightly, I felt him slipping into me with more ease and as he went deeper I could feel his chest pressing against my back, and could only imagine how far inside me he actually was.

He stayed still for a while and I was glad for it. I could get used to the strange, painful feeling. I hadn't realised how much I was sweating until a small droplet rolled down my nose. I wiped it off quickly.

"Are you alright?" Flint asked me, his hot breath on the back of my neck, his voice was husky, it almost made me jump, him being so close, the realisation of what we were doing.

"I'm fine." I lied. I didn't want to show any weakness.

He nodded, not questioning anymore, clearly he wanted to get on with it and I was glad for it. I wanted him to get going, properly. I didn't care if it hurt now, the pain was somewhat appealing to me, and it made it worthwhile, made it real.

He slowly withdrew until he was almost out, for a moment I thought he was going to stop completely, but moments later he slammed into me with so much force I would've fallen over if he had not been holding me. He began a steady rhythm, but every now and then he would push into me hard, hitting a spot deep inside me that made me feel amazing, my head dropped back slightly and I looked at the ceiling. I could hear his breathing growing even heavier, and louder. I grinned and closed my eyes, I let out a moan as he slammed into me again, hitting my spot. I could feel his chest hit my back with every thrust. My moans and gasps seemed to spur him on, I could sense that he was close to his climax, his whole body seemed to be screaming out to me, he was shaking, his breath coming in short sharp gasps. The hand that was wrapped around my stomach lightly traced down my stomach to my dick. His hand wrapped around it and he began pumping at the same rhythm. I let out a loud moan, the combined feeling of his thrusting and his hand was making me helpless. And I liked that feeling. I was his, to do what he pleased with.

I knew he was nearly ready, his thrusting had become desperate. I pictured the scene, imagining what we would look like if someone walked in now. Marcus Flint with his dick up Oliver Wood, two arch rivals crying out each others names as they reached their orgasms.

I came into his hands and I could feel him release inside me with a shuddering force. I could not believe how incredible that had been; I knew that no girl in the world could give me an orgasm like that. He dropped his head onto my shoulder, breathing heavily and we stood there for what seemed like an eternity.