Marcus leant against the red and gold cloth covering a tall tower in the Quidditch stadium. It had been 30 minutes since the end of the match, since Potter had fallen through the air and the whole place had gone up in hysteria. He had watched as half the Gryffindor team hurried across the fields back toward the castle, presumably to the Hospital Wing to see their injured teammate.
As expected, Wood was notably absent but Marcus knew exactly where to find him. He smirked and lazily began to walk toward the door which Angelina Johnson had just let swing shut.
The first thing that hit him as he entered was how ridiculously warm it was. The curling steam from the showers, which he could only assume had been on since the team had left the pitch, flooded the room making everything slightly damp. He walked past the pile of muddy robes and bundle of abandoned broomsticks propped against a bench until he reached the showers at the back.
The showers were a series of cubicles fixed to the back wall done out in red terracotta tiles. The door of the last stall was closed and the sound of steady rushing water echoed from within. Sighing, Marcus pushed at the door lightly with his index finger.
It slowly opened to reveal Oliver Wood sat with his back against the tiles with his arms around his knees and his head rested on his forearms. He was still wearing his full kit, his thick wool jumper sat soaked and heavy across his broad shoulders and his light brown hair had turned dark under the water.
"You know," Marcus drawled, "if you wanted to drown yourself, the lake would have been way quicker."
"Fuck off," came the muffled reply.
"Suit yourself," he turned on his heel and started to walk back the way he had come.
"M'Sorry." Oliver said quickly, his voice was hoarse like he had been screaming. He lifted up his head and his dark eyes watched as Marcus looked back at him.
"That's better," Marcus said brusquely, "now are you going to stop being a twat and get out of the shower?"
"Five more minutes," he murmured pathetically.
"Are you four years old?"
This earned him a glare.
"This is your fault you know."
Marcus stared back and felt a slight anger rising, "are you fucking kidding me right now?" No matter who challenged him, Marcus would always snap back.
"No," Oliver snapped, "you knew if you pulled out we'd have to play Hufflepuff and you know how much I'd planned our plays out and to change it all at this last minute was impossible and that was a dick move."
"I didn't cancel for fun," Marcus snarled back, hand gripping the side of the stall tightly, "you know Malfoy can't fly."
"Then why didn't you draft Higgs back in?"
"Have you seen how unfit Terrance has got since I dropped him? All he does is read and pine over Adrian. Romantic fucker."
"Not my problem," Oliver hadn't moved from the shower but he had become slightly more animated, "Malfoy isn't actually even hurt anyway."
Marcus snapped and took a few steps forward so he was just out of reach of the shower spray, "you think I don't know that?"
"Then why?"
"Because tactically it worked out and it worked to my advantage," Oliver opened his mouth to protest when Marcus continued, "and don't you dare say you wouldn't have done the same."
Oliver was silent.
"Right," Marcus smoothed his coat, "have you stopped having a go at me now?"
"Yes," his head sunk back onto his arms.
"Then why are you still sat moping?"
Oliver sighed and let his legs fall flat to the floor.
"He's in hospital because of me." Angry tears started to prick at his eyes, "I knew the conditions were bad and everyone knew that he still wasn't right. I shouldn't have let him go out. He's only a kid, he could have died."
Marcus looked down to the shaking boy in front of him. That's what he looked like, a small child regretting a decision and panicking because he didn't know how to fix it.
"Fuck sake," he breathed as his shook off his grey wool coat.
Oliver lifted up his head slightly, watching.
Marcus then pulled off his forest green jumper and folded it carefully onto a nearby bench.
"What are you doing?"
"Saving you from a watery grave," Marcus replied, "plus it's fucking hot in here and that jumper is 100% cashmere so it's not going anywhere near that boiling water pouring all over you."
"You're shirtless," Oliver commented.
"Well observed Wood, now shift up."
Oliver made a half-hearted attempt to move up as Marcus leant his back against the tiles and slid down until he was sat shoulder to shoulder with him. The water started to spill on to his curly hair that had been jet black until he had bleached in rebellion a few weeks ago.
"Your hair looks shit blonde."
"That is a lie," Marcus smirked, "I look fabulous."
Oliver hummed in agreement as he watched the water soak into Marcus' jeans.
"Your boots will get wet," he murmured.
Marcus laughed, "they're Doc Martens, they'll live."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because I love you Oliver," Marcus stared at the tiles on the floor, it never got easier for him to say this. After a year, he still didn't quite believe that he loved someone and that they loved him back. "This is what people do for people they love."
"I don't deserve love, I nearly had Harry killed."
"Oh will you fucking stop it," Marcus snapped, "that boy went up of his own volition. He loves that stupid sport as much as we do. I'm not sure why you think it's your fault either, did you try suck out his soul?"
"No."
"Then stop fucking blaming yourself. Shit like this happens and then you have to deal with it."
Marcus put his arm round Oliver's shoulders and pulled him against him until his head was on his chest and he could feel Oliver's stubble against him. "You try to be this all mighty leader, trying to control everything and be everywhere but at the end of the day it was his choice to go up there and it's not your fault he fell."
"But I wanted to win so badly-"
"So did everyone else on that team, it's just unfortunate that it was Potter that got the brunt of it."
"The brunt of it?" Oliver snorted, "he might be dead Marc."
"He'll be fine, smarmy fucker has had worse."
Oliver rolled his eyes, "can you not talk about my friend like that?"
"Sorry," Marcus smiled and kissed the top of Oliver's head.
"This reminds me of that time at Christmas when we got caught in that rainstorm," Oliver whispered.
"Hmm?" Marcus had closed his eyes and was enjoying the pleasant drumming of the water over his head.
"Yeah," Oliver continued, "when I beat you one on one and you got so mad that you kissed me and ran off."
Marcus smiled at the memory, "what can I say, I'm a charmer Wood."
"You're a fucking menace."
"Same thing really."
"I love you Marc," the sincerity in Oliver's voice made Marcus' heart stop for a second.
"You made a terrible choice with that; you are truly stuck with me now."
Oliver turned his head and kissed part of Marcus' neck which he could reach.
At that moment, the door crashed open and a drenched George Weasley trundled into the changing rooms.
"Ollie," he shouted, "you better not still be in that shower."
"Fuck," Marcus groaned. They still hadn't made their relationship known to anyone in an effort to hide it from his overbearing father.
"I'll be out in a minute," Oliver shouted back.
George swiftly approached the block in which Marcus and Oliver were sitting and flung open the door.
"I thought you might want to know that Harry is fine-"
George stopped abruptly when he saw that Oliver wasn't alone. Neither Captain had bothered to move, they knew that there was no way to hide this and they didn't particularly care anymore.
"Um," George made a confused waving motion with his hands.
"Yes Weasley?" Marcus fixed him with the stare which he reserved for Malfoy when he was being particularly irritating.
George took a breath and nodded towards Oliver, "he's not got hypothermia or anything has he?"
"Nah he's fine, just being whiney," Marcus laughed and pulled Oliver closer.
"Fuck off Marc."
"My brain can't process this," George still hadn't moved.
Marcus smirked and pulled himself up against the wall, "not much to process," he held his hands out to Oliver who took them and pulled against Marcus' weight to stand upright.
"Can you take him up to see Potter? Think he needs to talk to him about some stuff."
"Yeah, sure," George nodded.
Marcus turned off the water and pulled off Oliver's woollen jumper before throwing his own green cashmere at him, "if you drip on that I will kill you."
Oliver laughed and pulled it on, "love you."
"Idiot," Marcus picked up his coat and popped up the collar to try and deflect from the fact that he no longer had a jumper, "take care of him Weasley."
Marcus held his hand up in farewell as he weaved through the Quidditch gear on the floor before exiting through the open door.
George snapped his head back to look at Oliver who was standing in the soft cashmere jumper, "what even?"
"Maybe a chat to have with the whole team?"
"Yeah probably," George nodded, "come on, everyone is waiting for you."