Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Playing House (Marcus Flint)

The fourth-year flying beside me grinned good-naturedly as he assured me, "Malfoy will get used to it eventually. Just give him some more time, Lardera."

"He'll have to," I muttered, eyeing the pair of beaters who were swinging their bats experimentally, "or else he'll find himself experiencing a head-on collision with the bludgers."

Adrian chuckled, stabilising himself on his broom with a single hand as he admitted, "I'd pay to see that happen."

"You wouldn't be the only one," I assured him before casting my eyes across the pitch to where Flint was in deep conversation with our seeker. "Why don't we run through the plays by ourselves for now? Who knows how long it'll take for Flint to decide to come over here."

"That might be to do with the area we're flying in," Adrian said conspiratorially, shadowing me as I flew to the ground.

Clambering off my broom, I picked up the quaffle before settling myself comfortably on my broom again. Throwing the quaffle to the waiting fourth year, I asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

As we flew back upwards towards the goal hoops, I followed Adrian's eyes when he motioned for me to look at one of our housemates who had tagged along to watch us. "See that girl over there, the lone girl sitting in the stands? The one Flint is going out of his way to avoid?"

"Sanders - she's in her seventh year?" I questioned pointlessly, already knowing the answer. "Last I heard she was dating Flint?"

"They split up," Adrian confessed, throwing the quaffle towards me. I caught it with steady hands and threw it back to him. "He told us about it in the changing rooms – obviously you wouldn't have heard, being a girl and all. But I really think you should just use the same changing rooms as us –"

"Stop it," I cut off with a glare, catching the quaffle when he threw it back to me. "You've been hanging around Flint for too long; don't adopt his bad habits, Pucey."

"Alright, Lardera," Adrian relented, rolling his eyes and catching the quaffle with a wince when I tossed it with as much force as I possessed in my body. He rubbed his chest, wincing from the impact before adding, "He claims he got bored but now she won't leave him alone."

I scoffed, holding my arms open in anticipation of the quaffle. "That's what he gets for playing around with someone's feelings. Bloody ogre."

"That sounds like something you wanted to say to me," Flint called out from behind me and I winced, reluctant to face my captain. Me and my bloody mouth. Adrian snickered, clearing his throat and turning away from me so only I got in trouble. But really, what had I said wrong? Nothing. And that was why I was going to remain confident.

Clearing my throat, I flew in a small semicircle until I was facing him. "You might be my captain, but that doesn't mean I have to like your horrendous personality."

Adrian, realising that Flint was slowly beginning to get annoyed, hurriedly flew towards the other set of goal hoops. I glared at the back of my fellow chaser, and with the utmost reluctance, turned my eyes back to my captain.

Flint narrowed his eyes, jaw clenched tight as he managed to spit out, "Excuse me," as if he was waiting for me to retract my words. But it was too late for that, I wasn't one to go back on my words so easily. Not after a shoddy intimidation tactic that had stopped scaring me since the beginning of our first year.

"No one told you to become the house manwhore," I threw back, making a quick retreat and flying past him to join the rest of the team who had gathered in one group.

Flint would need to take a few minutes to calm himself and only then would we be able to begin the quidditch practice like it should have been. Only it wasn't that simple; just because Flint couldn't keep it in his bloody pants.