5.
Five chapters in, and I've only just realized that you lovelies haven't seen the banner that goes with this fic - so here you are!
.
An angry Marcus Flint was a man one did not reckon with. He'd been angry to learn that he would have to repeat his seventh year; catching Katie, and his subsequent hospitalization, hadn't been taken into account when he had failed to take two of his NEWTS. The Ministry of Magic had decided that he would need to retake those two classes, rather than just sit the NEWTS themselves. He had spent his summer appealing that decision with Professor Snape, and surprisingly enough, Professor Dumbledore, but the Ministry had held firm. Not even being told by Madam Hooch that the Falmouth Falcons were interested in seeing him fly had been balm enough to sooth his anger. That balm had come from Waltham Princely himself - the Head Coach from the Falcons had personally sat down with Marcus, and told him what he needed to do to make the Falcon's reserve team.
That layer of balm had been added too, when Madam Hooch had agreed to let Marcus sit in on some of her classes, so that he could learn how to coach younger players. His days at Hogwarts would be spent resitting DADA and Advanced Potions, while the rest of his time would be taken up learning the finer aspects of Quidditch, coaching and flying itself. Already a force to be reckoned with both on and off the broom, Waltham Princely had promised Marcus that by the time the school year was over and he was flying with the Falcons, his skills would be legendary. He'd make the Senior team within six months, and a whole world of possibilities would open for him - he just had to be patient.
He'd been angry to learn that Diana had finished her seventh year, only to be married off to an older wizard by her father when she returned home. She'd spent her honeymoon in a state of drunken animation, and her father was threatening to disown her if she didn't produce a heir. Furthermore, the marriage had included a fidelity cause within the magical binding ceremony - if Diana committed adultery, she would be publicly divorced, and left desolate. And as for the wizard? Marcus had shuddered when Diana had whispered that the spells involved, would leave the wizard infertile, impotent, and would do so for the remainder of his life. He'd brushed a kiss over the back of her hand, and watched as her heart broke as they said goodbye to any future she may have wanted for them.
He'd been angry at the welcoming feast when he'd seen the shock on Oliver Wood's face. The Scottish git had looked like a guppy, as his mouth opened and closed at the sight of Marcus. That anger had turned to amusement on the team's first practice, when Olive has scurried over to Madam Hooch, demanding more pitch time for Gryffindor as Slytherin had swept through the sky in a wave of green and silver. That amusement had faded back to anger when she had finally agreed though, in an effort to shut Oliver up. Madam Hooch's lips had twitched in amusement when Marcus' had offered to drown Oliver in the lake to stop his insistent harping about pitch time, even though she had held firm. That being said, however, she had offered Marcus the same amount of time, just to even the score.
He'd been angry when after his meeting with Madam Hooch, Marcus had walked into the Slytherin change room, and had heard Malfoy boasting about his prowess on a broom; the bribe from Draco's father the previous year did nothing to stop Marcus throwing a beaters bat across the room at Draco in anger. The bat had barely missed Draco's head, and as the team watched on silently, Marcus had bailed the younger Malfoy up and blistered his ears. Malfoy had been close to tears by the time Marcus was done with him, and even some of the older players had looked nervous.
"Just because Daddy bought your position on the team last year, Malfoy, doesn't mean I won't kick your pale arse off the team this year, if you don't start pulling your weight. Stop making it a rivalry between little boys who need to either put up or shag. Potter might be a quick Seeker, but you have one thing that he doesn't - me. You have me, Malfoy, breathing down your sodding neck. You either catch that bloody snitch, or I swear to Salazar, I'll feed you to the Thestrils, one limb at a time. Are we clear?"
With a fire in his belly and murder in his eyes, Marcus had spoken quietly. Calmly. Draco had believed him, whole-heartedly. He'd blubbered out an apology, to which Marcus had snarled what the younger man could do with that apology. Draco had tripped over his own feet in his haste to back away from Marcus, but no one had dared laugh. Marcus' temper was legendary, and each player knew that he would do whatever it took to win. He'd left the Slytherin team torn between admiration and fear, and Draco Malfoy extremely close to peeing his pants.
However, all that anger paled in comparison as he sat huddled against the driving wind and rain in the Slytherin Quidditch tower; he was watching the Gryffindor team during a practice that should have been canceled due to the sheer state of the weather alone. As Oliver Wood bawled out orders to his team-mates, Marcus drew his cloak tighter around his chilled body. Potter had already caught the Snitch, but still Oliver drove them to practice more. The twins darted around the goals together, bashing the Bludger back and forth between them, as Oliver shouted out directions from where he was huddled on his broom using the Sonorus charm. The three Chasers were weaving in and out of the Quidditch stands in a tight formation. The Quaffle flipped from hand to hand, until it slipped from numb fingers and Oliver near screamed in frustration as Angelina broke formation and angled her broom into a dive to catch the Quaffle.
"Bloody hell, Katie! What the hell is wrong with you?"
Katie gestured, yet the snatching wind caught her reply and blew it away. But when Angelina flew towards Oliver, her angry voice was caught by the Sonorus charm, and echoed across the pitch.
"For the love of Godric, Oliver, back off, and leave Katie alone!"
"I'm the Captain of this team, Angelina, and if I ask a player a question, I expect an answer!" Oliver shouted, and in a fit of pure anger, Angelina threw the Quaffle at him.
Oliver caught the Quaffle, but his face showed his shock as Angelina gestured angrily.
"Katie's tired, Oliver! She had a midnight Astronomy class last night, and she was back up at dawn for practice this morning! But instead of being able to curl up this afternoon and sleep, she's out here again! Practicing! You know that we'll beat Slytherin, we always do! This fear of Flint and what he's taught the Slytherin team has gone too bloody far! Quidditch is meant to be fun, Oliver, but you are making it a pure misery! Lay off Katie, or I swear, none of us will play for you!"
Oliver's jaw dropped, and his cheeks flamed red at the chastising he received. With a terse nod, he called for the team to get to the showers and head inside. Katie was one of the last to land, and she almost stumbled to her knees when she did. One of the twins caught her around the waist, his head lowering towards Katie's as he spoke quietly. It looked as if Oliver was going to speak again, but then the twin holding Katie lifted his head, and after shooting Oliver a filthy look, spoke loudly.
"George...Take the brooms, yeah?"
George reached out and took both brooms, and as Marcus watched, Fred wrapped his arm around Katie's waist, and half carried her towards the change rooms. Oliver dropped his chin in shame, and as Marcus moved through the shadows near the changing rooms, George's voice lifted over the driving rain.
"You're unbelievable, Ollie. You know that Madam Hooch told Katie to take it easy, to ease back into playing. I'd wondered why she told you to look up Michael Blusteroad last year... Now I know."
Marcus slipped away as George left Oliver alone in the rain and entered the Gryffindor changing rooms. As Marcus walked through the soaking rain as he headed towards the castle, he wondered whether to send Wood a copy of Michael Blusteroad; the History as a gift. When dinnertime came around, he watched the Gryffindor table silently. The team sat together as always, but there was a noticeable frostiness between them as they ate silently. Seated between Angelina and Lee, Katie yawned her way through dinner. Twice Angelina nudged Katie's plate back towards her; Katie pulled a face each time, but ate a little more nonetheless. It was only when she rested her chin on her fist and closed her eyes that Angelina finally pulled the plate away and smoothed her hand down the length of Katie's hair. Katie managed a tired smile, before she slipped away, leaving her team mates to break out in a furious, though hushed, conversation that was directed at Oliver. The conversation ended when Oliver abruptly rose to his feet and stormed away.
Marcus watched them speculatively as the remaining teammates huddled together and spoke quietly. He was still watching them when Draco tapped his arm and demanded to know what Marcus was plotting against the Gryffindors. Marcus turned his head slowly and looked at Draco through narrowed eyes, until the pale young man began to squirm in his seat. The students around them fell silent, and Marcus raised an eyebrow.
"You know, Malfoy, if you put in as much effort to catch the Snitch as you do plotting against the Gryffs, we'd win the Quidditch cup hands down. However, you're that busy trying to get Potter to notice you, that you let him catch it instead. So, in the future, if there is any plotting, as you put it, how about you leave that to the big boys, hmm?"
Draco flamed bright red as snickers ran up and down the Slytherin table, and he lowered his eyes to the table as Marcus picked his bag up. Point made, Marcus stood up without another word and walked away. Walking through the library, he headed for the darker corners near the restricted section. Settling down at his usual table, he spread out his parchments and started the assignment Snape had set him that day. He knew the material, and finished the assignment quickly. Nevertheless, his mind wasn't on the Potions' essay, nor was it on the DADA essay that needed to be finished. No. His mind was on Katie Bell. Again. With something akin to a snarl, Marcus dropped his quill and dragged his hands down over his face.
Marcus had watched several lightening fast emotions cross her face when Katie had seen him on the first day back at school, and each one was stored away in his mind. She had blushed first when they had locked eyes, and she had been unable to hide her surprise. But her eyes had shown her confusion. And finally, the worst emotion of all - resignation. Last year, she had watched him from under her lashes. Peeked at him through a curtain of blonde hair. When he'd looked at her, when grey eyes had clashed with blue, her eyes had darted away from his, and she'd lower her chin as a faint blush warmed her cheeks. Not in coyness - not from her. She didn't know the games the older girls played - no, from Katie, it was real. Last year, it had confused him. This year... It was a harder emotion to name.
This year, she presented another fraction of the puzzle she had become in his mind. Rather than meet his eyes as she had done so last year, this year she kept her gaze carefully averted. It both amused and infuriated him, and it had him watching her more frequently as he tried to solve this Katie shaped puzzle. He tried to read her, to work out the how's and why's, only to come up empty-handed. Marcus sat back in his chair and looked out across the library. When he caught sight of a familiar head of hair, he narrowed his eyes, and then blew out a deep breath. Taking a quick look around himself, Marcus sat back and looked her over slowly. Yes, Katie had changed since last year. Tilting his head, Marcus studied her silently; she was reading over the parchment she had been writing, and her quill dangled loosely from her fingers.
She wasn't beautiful, Marcus reasoned with himself. Not in the typical sense. Her cheekbones and eyes dominated her face. Her mouth was a shade too full, the cupids bow in her top lip pronounced. Her chin was dainty, even when it was tilted at a stubborn angle. And she was all long legs, and slender lines; not a curve to her that he could see through the long knitted jumpers she tended to favor. And as he watched her, while he looked over her features with a critical eye, Katie gathered her hair up from the base of her neck. Pulling it up into a messy pile at the back of her head, she shoved a spare quill through the long strands. That simple move bared her neck and a smooth section of skin as her jumper slid off her shoulder. And it made him fist his hands as his stomach clenched, and slam his eyes shut as she lifted her hand and tugged the jumper back into place.
Pressing his fingertips to his eyes, Marcus breathed out through his nose steadily as he pushed the image out of his mind. She was a child, he reminded himself angrily, a child and a Gryffindor. Pushing away from the table to return his books to the stacks, Marcus made the decision to unearth a bottle of something strong, and to take Cecilia Warrington up on the offer of a blowjob. But as he entered the stack that was home to the book on potions, he came a stand still. Katie was standing on tiptoe, returning a book to a shelf that was just out of reach. And as she reached up, her jumper rose to show a smooth section of skin at her lower back.
"Oh, come on!" she whispered, and stretched up farther.
When the book was plucked from her hand with no warning, Katie bit back a scream and spun around. Lifting her eyes in confusion, Katie inwardly blanched when saw who it was that towered over her. Dropping her eyes as she fisted the sleeves of her jumper in her hands, Katie fought the blush she could feel that was threatening to steal over her cheeks. A calloused hand gripped her chin, and Marcus forced Katie to lift her face and meet his eyes as he stared down at her with a frown on his face. She could feel the heat in her cheeks rising as he played his gaze over her face, before he snorted softly.
"Tell me something, Bell," he began casually. "Did you lose your spine when I caught you last year? Or has Wood finally broken your spirit?"
Katie jerked her face from his hand, and narrowed her eyes slightly.
"What's that meant to mean, Flint?" she snapped, and a slow smirk of satisfaction crossed his face as she lifted her chin.
"You know what I mean, Bell. You showed me that you had claws last year, but it seems that you've since retracted them."
"Claws?" she asked slowly, and took a step back when Marcus took one towards her.
"Mm… claws. Last year, you would have stood up to Wood, rather than slink away from him after he yelled at you. He wouldn't have dared yell at you last year... And it would have been you throwing the Quaffle at him, not Johnson."
Katie's eyes widened in surprise, only to narrow with caution as Marcus took another step towards her. Marcus smiled slightly as Katie took one in retreat. For every step he took forwards, Katie took one in retreat, and when Katie bumped into the shelf of books, she let out a soft sound. Marcus smiled again, and taking a final step forward, he braced his hand against the shelf behind her and lowered his head slightly.
"So, tell me… where's that Gryff courage, Bell? Hmm?" Marcus ducked his head slightly, and lowered his voice. "Where are you hiding it, Katie?"
His voice, coupled with her name, darkened the blush that had stolen over her face, and Kate visibly swallowed.
"What are you talking about?" she whispered, and Marcus smirked slightly.
"You know what I'm talking about," he muttered, and cupping her chin again, he once more tilted her chin upwards.
He took his time studying her face in a way he hadn't been able to do so before. And when he looked into her eyes, he bit back another smile when he saw that her pupils were dilated as she stared up at him with wide-eyed innocence. He could feel the smoothness of her skin against his fingers as he angled her face up slightly, and there, hovering like mist over her skin, was that warm scent that he had smelled on her what felt a lifetime ago. And when Marcus deliberately brushed his thumb across the corner of her lips as he let her chin go, the blush that stained her cheeks went a long way to soothing the anger he had been carrying since watching the Gryffindor practice session.
"Get some sleep, Bell," he said quietly, and as he started to back away, that stubborn chin lifted, and she met his gaze squarely.
"Why?" she asked, and Marcus smirked.
"Because we play one another in two weeks," he said quietly. "And I really don't fancy having to catch you again, because you're too tired to stay on your broom."
He laughed softly at the look on her face as he turned to leave, and made his way back to his table to collect his things. And as he walked back towards his Common room, the amusement on Marcus' face faded, and he frowned. He'd had a lot to be angry about this year. His NEWTS. Diana. And a certain Scottish git, who was going to have to rethink his strategy if he wanted a chance at winning the House Cup. But mostly, he was angry that Katie's house-mates couldn't see how tired she really was; her fatigue had absolutely nothing to do with practice and late night astronomy classes. No... He knew what kept her awake. He still had nightmares too. And while her wit and mouth were as sharp as ever, the shadows under her eyes leant her a frailty that made him nervous. And feeling nervous because of that made him angrier than anything else.