Was it going to be like this every day?

Every morning on his way to the office, he'd stop by a little coffee shop in the alley and grab the paper. By reputation, he wasn't the smartest tool in the shed, but he was the boss, and he needed to stay on top of his company's performance in the stock market. If there was a dip in performance, he would be the partner who would rough up the employees to find out who was the cause. He was also the partner who eliminated the competitors. It was in his nature, after all.

Espresso.

In his world, time meant money. Hard work meant great results. He was sharp, determined, and dedicated. Any free time was spent bettering himself. When he'd started working for his father, it was noted that during his years at Hogwarts, he was lazy and unenthusiastic. Those traits almost cost him the job. Could you believe that? His father almost never hired him! "Father," He'd say, choosing to take his father's sentiments with a pinch of salt. "This is business. Unfortunately, Hogwarts just teaches basic hocus-pocus. I believe my talents lie in more mentally stimulating activity."

Of course, he was lying. He knew nothing about numbers, and had poor people skills. In the boardroom, he'd go on to prove that he was neither eloquent, and his intellectual prowess could not save him from the scrutiny of his father. His father was nothing but disappointed in his imbecile of an heir. "You're not taking this seriously."

"I'm trying my hardest." Over the years, he'd had limited interaction with his father. The old man was always travelling or working, and he spent his adolescent years at boarding school.

"If that is truly the case, then you're bad for business." His father sneered. He wasn't used to being made to feel this small. He'd always seen himself as the alpha-male, and this new dynamic of being the small fish in a big pond was foreign to him. After this conversation, he'd return to his room, drive his large fist through the wall, and start crying. He felt dumb and useless, and it needed to change. In the years to come, he'd read, and he hated every second of it, but his vocabulary was improving and his expanding knowledge of trends and numbers saw him reaping great rewards, and soon enough he was made junior vice president, complete with the plush office right opposite his father's. He enjoyed the art of delegation and often dealt his least favorite employees with the most undesirable tasks. If something went pear-shaped in the boardroom, someone else was always to blame. He had worked himself into the alpha-male once again.

I come first.

He was the last person to enter the coffee-shop, but was served first. It was the natural order of this place. He was their VIP, the young corporate hot shot who part-owned the company that owned their premises, and the entire block surrounding it. Anyone who didn't agree had two options – wait, or get lost. Simple. He got his coffee and had a seat at his reserved table right next to the window, where his hot breakfast and paper were delivered right to him. Today he wasn't feeling his best. His mind was tired and he needed to have those few minutes of just sitting and observing. He didn't want this table – he needed fresh air, and asked to move outside. Within seconds, he was in the environment where he was most at ease – outside. He watched the usual suspects pass by: the old peddlars, the young wizards buying school supplies, and the workers who had been here since he was a first-year. He saw Olivander and nodded in his direction. He had always treated the old man with contempt, but in the world of business, Olivander was highly respected. His wand-shop had maintained monopoly of the wand-making industry for centuries, and business was booming.

"Marcus Flint." The old man greeted, recalling the wand that he had sold to the young man when he was on his way to Hogwarts. Marcus nodded again, feeling the wand lying warm and heavy in his pocket, as if it too was greeting it's maker. The old man passed by and Marcus was left with his breakfast as another usual suspect made her way passed him.

Rake thin and wearing the baggiest clothes, she carried a haggard appearance and could have easily been mistaken for a peddler. Her hair was also thinning. His fork, which was on his way to his mouth, dropped with an audible clank in his plate, spilling food into the napkin on his lap.

Was that…?

He turned around and looked at her bony back. "Everything okay?" The waitress asked, noticing his food in his lap and his hand covering his mouth.

"Were you at Hogwarts?" He asked, turning again to find the walking skeleton.

"Yes I was!" The waitress replied, following his line of sight.

"Do you remember Katie Bell?"

"Yes from the Quidditch team!"

He turned and pointed with a laugh rising in his throat as the waitress covered her own mouth. "Oh Lord…." She choked out a laugh too. "Oh my… what the hell happened to her?" They both turned and watched her turn the street. "I want to feed her. My God." Her manager called back in, and she quickly took Marcus's soiled napkin and left. She re-emerged briefly to bring him a new one, and then left him to finish his meal. Once he was done, he paid and made his way to the office, still thinking about the gaunt girl he had once competed with at high school.

Was she that poor?

What was she doing with herself these days anyway?

He didn't want to put a lot of thought into it at the office, but there was something about her appearance that sparked his curiosity. As an athlete, she had the build in every single way – she used to be tall and lean, with long muscle which had aided her speediness on the field and been the driving force behind powerful throw. He remembered the severe hatred he had for her back then, mainly due to the fact that she kept him on his toes. If he wanted that quaffle, he'd have to either work for it, or knock her off her broom, and back then he hated working.

By the afternoon, the curiosity was chomping away at his psyche, and he'd commissioned one of the tea girls to bring him past-copies of the paper. "Trend-seeking," He explained. He knew she dated Wood, and that he was something of a celebrity these days, but he'd lost touch with the sporting world since starting work. For one, he didn't particularly enjoy seeing old rivals and teammates enjoying the life he'd once wanted for himself, and his shift in focus to the world of commerce gave him enough reason to ignore them.

Now here he was, reading through gossip and entertainment columns, searching for ammunition. Was he going to confront her? Probably no, if such events were reported it wouldn't look to good on him, but should they ever cross paths and he'd hear the word "troll" escape from her lips, he'd need some new material. His juvenile fascination with conflict was reborn, and he was excited.

OllyWood was spotted solo on the town…

Newly single after ditching his high school sweetheart known only as Katie…

New girlfriend, model/actress London Dream…

It was all recent, say, within the last year. The rest was all waffle about him and this London Dream. Poor little Katie, she was obviously heartbroken. It was oh-so-delicious. Known only as Katie. Even while she was dating one of the Quidditch world's superstars, she was irrelevant. Must hurt.

The business day closed and Marcus made his way back to his penthouse. Upon entering, he couldn't help but envy Oliver Wood. Since leaving Hogwarts, Marcus had been completely single. If he were to put it down to anything, it was lack of opportunity. He just couldn't attract the kind of girl he wanted, and all the women who tried to come into his life only seemed to be in it for his wealth. He wasn't the kind of man who chased love, and would much rather be alone than settle down with someone who would ultimately destroy him. His parents had tried to get him married upon his becoming JVP, but the girl had run away from home right after their first meeting. He didn't take it personally – he knew he was no looker.

But he was alone. Oliver Wood had two very different girlfriends in the last year.

London Dream – the independent beauty.

Katie Bell – the high school heart breaker.

His mind raced to places he'd never thought they'd ever go.

He didn't like flashy girls because he knew the story to their success. They made friends in high places, like him. These friends would go on to skyrocket them to success, but he was no one's launch pad. He was the boss. No one could surpass him. Had he been Wood, he would have stuck to Bell. She seemed to have kept to herself. She never sold any kiss-and-tell stories. In the time they were together, his star kept rising. She was a great quidditch player herself, but she stayed home, ensuring that he had nothing but comfort to come home to. Could London Dream even make a bed? He didn't think so. Wood's expenses were probably hitting the roof with this girl.

If he'd been dating Bell…

What? No. That just wasn't right. These paths of his psyche were forbidden. He'd become a victim of mindless gossip, wishing to live a life that went against everything he stood for morally. He'd become tolerant of muggle-borns, but would never mix with one. As soon as he banished those thoughts, they found their way back into his mind.

That night, he entered his dreams as Wood, realizing that he'd made a gigantic mistake. He went to Katie's home, which he imagined was old-country style (she was a muggle, after all), and the emaciated girl leapt back into his arms, knocking him off balance. Upon catching sight of his forearms, he noticed them to be as they were now: large and sinewy, covered in a sheer blanket of black hair. He caught sight of his very expensive watch and his hands, which to this day were calloused. He hadn't given much thought to them before, but now he was embarrassed. Why did this girl want to be touched by him? His eyes met hers and his gaze dropped. She was back to her former glory: fuller-figured with healthy, shiny blonde locks and blue eyes that examined his face. "I love you." She said, and as her lips closed on his, he realized he was dreaming and woke with a start.

No, you don't.