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It had started out as an unconventional, but useful, friendship. Even Harry wasn’t really sure how it began... well, he knew how it began, but not why it had lasted. They had served detention together for two weeks with Umbridge, and her cruel ways had them banding together quickly. A month later, just before their Halloween shopping trip to Hogsmeade - she had been sacked, made penniless and thrown in Azkaban.
Harry had been amazed at the quick turnaround, but Marcus had made a face and said something about gold and family connections being able to get whatever you wanted and patted Harry on the head rather condescendingly, but from then on, they had been vaulted as the heroes of Hogwarts together. The time they had met in secret, writing various missives to the members of the Wizengamot - and also to the Wizarding Press - had forced them to interact more than they would typically on the Quidditch Pitch.
Harry had been thankful in the beginning that Marcus had his teeth fixed at some stage over the summer, and he was a lot easier on the eyes that he had been in previous years.
Marcus often had snide, cutting remarks about the way their world was run that would more often than not have Harry chuckling at the time, and smiling randomly later.
Even after Umbridge was gone and her Auror replacement installed, they continued to meet. Ron and Hermione often tagged along. Still, they usually sat on the other side of the table, without much input to their conversations. Marcus’ friend Adrian joined them too, and Harry could tell he was as perplexed about this arrangement as Ron and Hermione were.
When it was just the two of them, they spoke most often of Quidditch, classes, and what they wanted to be able to do when they left Hogwarts. Harry confided in Marcus his dream of running a curse-breaking business. Bill’s passion for the job had inspired Harry last summer, and it was a more attractive option than working for the ministry and having to fight evil wizards. This way, he would still be helping people, and able to use his passion for Defence against the Dark Arts, but in a way that he would be able to stay (mostly) safe.
Marcus had encouraged him. He promised to introduce him to his Uncle, Frederick Fawley, - an accountant - who would be able to help Harry set-up such a business.
For himself, Marcus had been approached by the Falmouth Falcons to take place as one of their reserve chasers. He had confided this to Harry with a grim, ‘well, if I’m not pressed into service before then’.
It was the one time they veered close to a discussion involving Voldemort, and it had put a damper on their evening.
But that was a week ago before the school had left for the holidays. It was now late on Christmas Eve, and Harry was wandering the castle, thoughts swirling through his mind as he thought about the next day. Harry, Hermione and the Weasley children would be flooing from Dumbledore’s office to an unknown location to meet their families. It had been deemed the safest option, leaving the children at Hogwarts for the majority of the holidays.
Harry had been disappointed he wouldn’t be able to spend more than a few hours with Sirius, but he would take what he could get for now.
Suddenly, something smacked him in the face. Startled, Harry began to fend off the object that seemed intent on whacking him about the head.
He managed to get a look at it when it retreated, though it only perplexed him even more. Why was he being attacked by mistletoe?
“Ow! Stop it!”
He tried to grab it when it veered toward him again, but it only evaded his efforts. Slowly Harry began to retreat, eventually breaking into a run to escape the blasted thing. He became distinctly aware that he was being herded when the ferocity of the mistletoe would increase when he tried to use specific corridors.
He began to worry as it pushed him toward a more secluded part of the castle.
“Gerroff!”
A familiar-sounding roar came from ahead, and Harry looked up to see Marcus fending off his own branch of misbehaving festive greenery.
“Marcus?” he called out.
“Harry?”
As they drew closer together, the mistletoe ceased its attack, though it hovered menacingly nearby. Harry eyed it cautiously.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Hell if I know,” Marcus grumbled, swatting at one of the branches.
The branch only dodged his hand lazily.
Harry fumbled for his wand and began a series of spells to fend it off.
“ Finite Incantatem! Stupefy! Immobulus! Petrificus Totalus! Incendio! ”
None of the charms took effect, and Harry scowled.
Hearing Marcus’ chuckle Harry turned to him, “What about this is funny to you?” he asked incredulously.
Marcus’ shrugged, “You’re cute when you scowl.”
Harry gaped at him, “I am not cute!”
“Disagree, you’re like an angry kitten.”
At an utter loss for something to say, Harry merely sputtered at the absurd remark.
“Spells won’t work anyway, I tried everything, even a few things I probably shouldn’t have.”
Dark magic, Harry thought, but he leapt for the subject change.
“Well, what do you suppose we do? If we try to move from here, they are only going to attack us again.”
One of the branches bobbed in the air as if agreeing with him.
Marcus shrugged, “I wondered that myself until I saw you.”
Harry looked up at him, puzzled and cocked his head, only to receive a sigh.
“It’s mistletoe, Harry. What do you know about mistletoe?”
Harry thought for a second, “That it’s infested with Nargles? And you can use its berries in the Forgetfulness Potion?”
Marcus sighed and scrubbed his face for a moment. He then stalked forwards, grabbed Harry by the waist, slid one hand behind his neck and pulled him in to press their lips together.
Harry made a noise of utter surprise, and his arms pinwheeled briefly before settling on Marcus’ firm shoulders. This was rather different from kissing Cho, he thought, as he caught up to the events. Much more pleasant his brain supplied. It was, he agreed. Marcus held him close and though firm, his kiss was smooth and exhilarating. Harry felt his lips part, and a warm tongue slid against his lower lip. Shocked, Harry gasped, and Marcus’ tongue pushed in to sweep against his own.
Groaning, Harry slid his arms around Marcus’ neck and pressed up into the kiss.
They parted later, much later, panting as they stared at one another.
Harry licked his lips, and Marcus’ eyes tracked the movement.
“That was um… That was…” he began.
“Something I’ve wanted to do for ages,” Marcus said, his voice rough.
Harry’s eyes widened, and he began to grin tentatively, “Yeah?”
Marcus rose an eyebrow, “Every time you stick that damn sugar quill in your mouth.”
Harry let out a breathless laugh, “Well...”
“I like you,” Marcus interrupted bluntly, “and I know that it’s stupid considering what’s going on outside, but I like you.”
Harry felt his mouth tug up at the corners, “I like you too.”
“Good. Go out with me?”
Harry snorted at his bluntness, but he appreciated him not beating around the bush.
“Alright.”
Marcus smirked and recaptured Harry’s lips with his, neither of them noticed that the mistletoe had moved on to find more potential lovers that just needed a little encouragement.