"I'm not a death eater." He wanted to hiss the words out loud, almost in an attack, but they stayed on his tongue. It was an instinctive habit of needing to put an all-assuming righteous Gryffindor in their place.

But she had not ever been that way. She had never been so judgemental of anyone. At first, he had been stupefied as to why she was so open-minded in regard to him. Until he realized she was that way with everyone.

Even the Slytherins. Albeit, they had been younger than her. He doubted she had held similar sentiments for her Slytherin peers or his. Her open hatred of Daphne had even amused him until she'd look at him with those sad cornflower eyes of hers.

Despite her dislike of the older sister, she had helped Astoria Greengrass being harassed by some petty Ravenclaws, but to even help Malfoy? That had annoyed the shite out of him. So much so, that he'd almost slapped the fuck out of the boy when the runt had annoyed him that week.

He still wanted to put Malfoy in his place, albeit for a very different reason now.

She had given everyone a chance, it hadn't just been him. He was convinced until recently that the hat should've put her with the beavers. No wonder she'd even looked at the big hulking troll with soft eyes.

Of course, he hadn't been the only one. He'd ignored the fact as to why it had frustrated him for so long. He was so jealous and covetous over something he had thought was only his. Something he had fought himself again and again from taking.

He had no right to the relief he had felt when he realized that with him whatever she felt was different.

Desperate. Certain. Possessive. The things she felt for others had always been more intense when it came to him. And of course, there were still things she had only felt for him.

He could not even fathom a crush on her part on Malfoy, whom even the older girls had found cute, or any of the Weasleys whom even the Slytherin secretly found charming. Malfoy might have been a curious creature to her, Greengrass a sympathetic one. But her romantic designs had always been on him.

Marcus Flint.

A rich pureblood indeed, but an ugly one still. Still, she only wanted him. He had given her every opportunity and reason to move on, to let her feelings for him go. And yet that look in her eyes, the spark of hope, he was sure she probably didn't even realize she felt, now cemented their fate even further.

He was hers. And he would make her his. She already was in a sense, but he'd work on making it permanent.

And for them to truly begin he wanted to tell her the truth of it all. Of how he'd lied his way into getting her and then ran off with her where no one could find them.

Hopefully, no one finds them. Never discount any possibility, Flint.

She was a total Hufflepuff when it came to him. And in general when it came to viewing the world by assuming the best. But when it came to taking care of her loved ones, she was a Gryffindor. She would not hesitate to sacrifice herself to make the world a better place.

He only wished she would fight for herself a bit more. But he very well knew she wouldn't.

So he couldn't just tell her. He could not trust her to stay put if he even begged it of her. If nothing else, she would beg him to see her parents. And her parents had failed to convince her to stay with them, where it was safer. Far away from the darkness that had taken over their part of the world.

As long as she didn't know that he was as powerless as her, it'd keep her in line. Vary enough not to try anything stupid. Hopefully, long enough for the war to come to an actual conclusion. If his father's side won, they would hide forever. And if her side won, well at least she would be able to go back to her normal.

He finally focused back on her, contemplating what his next steps would be. He wanted to be soft and gentle, but then she'd start hero-worshipping him, expecting him to help her save the world.

He was no hero. Not even for her. She was his, that was all there was to it. He was finally willing to accept that. Still, he would not go out to fight the dark side, not even for her.

But that didn't mean he wanted to drill fear into her to the extent that his father and his friends, had done. He wasn't that barbaric or unfeeling. Selfish yes, monstrous no. At least he didn't think so.

Either way, her disappointment in him would make her cry and he doubted he could bear that. That one time when she had sobbed her heart out had been more than enough. How could he ensure she would stay put without hurting her, emotionally or physically?

An idea came to him. A gamble between her anger or her love. He wondered which emotion of hers would win out. No one could ever be shocked at his manipulative tendencies.

"Do you want me to die, Bell?" The guilty flush on her face was quite telling. He almost preened at his victory. She indeed wanted many, most death eaters dead. But not him.

Never him.

He grinned at her teeth and all, as he sauntered to her. His hands were desperate to touch, but he refrained. Not just yet, he needed her answer first. Even if he knew, he wanted her to say words.

Admit that she still cared for him, despite everything.

"You know the dark lord is quite inventive, he likes to send those he's dissatisfied within piece by…" The words got stuck in his throat as she shoved him, hard.

So much strength in someone so small. As he looked at her face, her beauty took his breath away.

Who ever said anger and love were always mutually exclusive.