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Many people would describe Marcus Flint as a man of anger and impulsiveness.
While those people would certainly be true, Marcus would argue that what he really wanted was to be listened to and taken seriously. Not ridiculed for his unusual looks, in which he knew were not considered attractive – especially to those of superficial taste – or taken for a simpleton simply because he looked like he could crush your skull with his bare hands.
He knew he was smart, and yeah, sure, he may have been held back a year at Hogwarts, but that was only because goddamn Oliver Wood couldn't take a joke and Marcus was suspended as a result.
Typical Gryffindor goody-two-shoes.
It's not Marcus' fault the boy had a perpetual stick up his ass and refused to believe that the Slytherins had nothing to do with the Gryffindor teams sudden case of wildly uncontrollable broomsticks. They couldn't prove anything, yet that didn't stop the snitch from ratting them out to Dumbledore, did it?
Who cares if Marcus actually was the mastermind behind it all, anyway? He'd spent ages perfecting that charm, thank you very much, and he didn't appreciate the clearly biased hatred towards Slytherins for a harmless prank.
Marcus conveniently ignored the whispered voice in his head that reminded him someone could have fallen off their broom and died.
Marcus continued to stew in his thoughts as he stood in line at his favourite coffee shop.
The quant shop had become popular in recent years as more and more of the Wizarding community realised how convenient takeaway coffee was. The shop, aptly named 'Bewitching Brews', had only really catered to Muggle-borns and Half-bloods, at its initial opening.
That's not to say Pure-bloods weren't allowed inside, only that the majority didn't see the appeal of commercialised takeaway drinks and were still rather stuck in their ways, despite the positive turnover after the war.
Many couldn't keep up with the rapid modernisation of the Muggle world, and how it was swiftly becoming integrated with the Wizarding world.
Marcus came here a lot, as he enjoyed drinking a strong brew of coffee in the company of his own thoughts. Often, he'd bring along some of his paperwork, finding the aromatic smell and background noise of chattering patrons to be a relaxing atmosphere for productivity.
Of course, Marcus couldn't escape his problems altogether. His phone vibrated from within his pocket and he swore under his breath as he mentally cursed whatever God had stricken him with such shit luck recently. As the phone continued vibrating non-stop, Marcus already knew who exactly was on the other end, and his face scrunched up into a vicious scowl.
Scrolling through the abundant of messages on his phone, his brows furrowed upon reading the array of vitriolic messages all coming from the same sender.
Marcus hoped his bitch of an ex-girlfriend would get a life and stop messaging him already. Maybe even catch onto the fact that Marcus was teetering on the edge of committing homicide if the incessant influx of messages continued any longer.
There were many reasons Marcus hated the woman in particular. For starters, he was barely interested in women, in a romantic sense, that is. However, he'd reluctantly agreed to give in to her demands when he got fed-up of her persistence to accompany him everywhere, following him around whenever he attended a gala or event.
He knew the witch only wanted him for his money, evident by her passive-aggressive comments towards Marcus' appearance and her complaints of his blunt personality.
He hated admitting to himself that he reluctantly agreed with her, on the aspect of his rather non-existent charm. His gloomy aura became darker at his self-pity and his scowl deepened.
Deep in his dark thoughts and angrily scrolling through his phone, Marcus didn't hear the ringing of the bell on the door, or the person taking their place behind him in the queue.
He'd finally reached the end of the witch's bragging of her new life and the bitching of his failures and had locked his phone when something caught his attention. Startling green eyes reflected off of his phone's black screen and Marcus held his breath at the vibrant colour.
Marcus tilted the phone slightly to try and get a better look at the owner of those bright eyes and was shocked to see the face that held them. Wide, doe-eyes held the shining emeralds and were framed by thick lashes.
The person was a boy – a very small and petite boy – who Marcus thought was weirdly familiar. The young man had ink-black hair that fell to his shoulders in messy waves, some curls framing a heart-shaped rosy face.
Marcus was momentarily frozen by just how breath-taking the boy actually was, and that was just through his phone screen. Those illuminating emeralds were wandering around the coffee shop in curiosity, taking in the quirky décor and happy patrons.
The enchanting moment was broken by the buzzing of his phone and his screen lighting up as another message came through. The bitch had replied.
He sighed irritably and swiped to unlock the screen, reading the text in bitterness. Marcus's grip tightened on the device and he could swear he heard it give a threatening creak as he glared at the contents.
The bitch had to audacity to accuse him of being unfaithful during their relationship. Him. Marcus scoffed at the irony of it all, his mind flashing to the many men he'd seen her flirting with unashamedly during their rather short time together.
He glared in particular at the word 'relationship', thinking of her and that word together made him shiver in revulsion. As much as he hated the witch, he would have never cheated on her – he wouldn't do that to anybody. Ever.
Marcus' small attempt at thinking of the woman in marginal civility was immediately washed away when his gaze landed on the next text from the she-devil herself.
- ♡ -
Harry had been looking over the Marcus' shoulder for some time now, ever since taking his place behind the large figure when walking into the friendly coffee shop.
He'd instantly recognised the other upon seeing him, as Harry felt it was pretty hard not to remember Marcus' large frame and scary scowl from his younger years in Hogwarts. Harry wasn't sure the other man would remember him despite playing against one another in Quidditch, as Hermione had told him he'd changed a lot since his school days.
After turning 17 and reaching his Magical Majority, he'd come into his inheritance and had finally reached adulthood. Harry was still pouting over having stayed the exact same height – even Ron had grown, his lanky frame now reaching an impressive 6'2'' and towering over Harry's 5'6'' – but his health had improved dramatically and he no longer looked starved or needed his famous glasses.
Harry had even grown out his hair to try and stave away the cursed Potter mess, letting it hand in messy waves rather than the atrocious birds nest it had been in school. It even had the added bonus of covering up his scar – something Harry was infinity thankful for.
He supposed with all these small changes, as well as his general improved fashion taste – thank you Mione – Harry wasn't too shocked that many people overlooked him in a crowd. The only thing that stood out now was his vibrant green eyes, something Harry loved because they reminded him of his Mother.
He'd seen the deep scowl on Marcus' face upon entering from the side of the shop before taking his place behind him and felt the need to do something to cheer the other man up. People commented on his 'saving people thing' and sure, now that the war was over, maybe Harry's complex had instead turned into a habit of butting his nose into other people's business when they looked sad or upset.
He just liked seeing people happy, okay? Sue him.
Harry remembered the Marcus from Hogwarts, even then the boy had towered over everybody with his large build, something that had scared a younger Harry. However, looking at the man now, Harry could see how he'd grown into his body well.
What had previously been seen as dangerous and scary, now gave off more of a protective strength – as though the man could easily take care of another without breaking a sweat.
Harry nervously bit his lip the longer he looked at the man – as discreetly as possible as he inched to the man's side, trying to see his profile clearly – and could admit, even if just to himself, that he was kind of attractive.
Ok, so maybe Harry had a thing for strong guys. Well, more than a thing. He was unabashedly attracted to muscled guys that looked like they could throw him over their shoulder and ravish him.
Harry's ears turned bright red.
Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he'd used his years of sneaking around Hogwarts to the test as he'd peeked around Marcus' side to see whatever he was doing on his phone. He felt guilty at being so invasive, but Harry was nothing if not recklessly brave and so he ignored the blaring warning to stop before he got caught and continued reading the texts displayed on the screen.
It seemed the man was texting an ex of some sort, which was clear from the brief mentions of the word 'relationship' and rather intimate details. Harry adamantly ignored the tiny whisper in his mind that repeated the word 'ex' and how that meant he was single and definitely not involved at all, maybe even willing to put his strong arms to use and pin me against the wa-
Harry shook his head, a pink tinging his cheeks at his scandalous wayward thoughts.
He focused again on the messages and his eyes widened at the newest one – the small bubble surrounding text which read: 'It's not my fault you'd prefer a pretty boy over a respectable woman. Maybe you should find yourself a little twink to satisfy you instead of wasting my time.'
Before Harry's better judgement could stop him, he let out an amused guffaw, startling the man in front of him. Harry continued giggling behind his hand at the look of shock on Marcus' face.
- ♡ -
Marcus had only a moment to take in the backhanded advice before he found himself startled at a laugh very close behind him, turning to come face to face with those vibrant emerald eyes.
The boy he'd been so captivated by was giggling, attempting to cover his amusement with a dainty hand, though his eyes sparkled in mirth. Marcus realised with a start that the boy must have been peeking in on his conversation and had found the most recent message rather funny.
Marcus was momentarily frozen in place, looking directly at the boy that was so alluring and the listening to the sound of his musical laugh.
The boy's cheeks and neck were painted in a faint smattering of pink, the rosy blush highlighted against his porcelain skin. He'd stopped laughing at this point and was instead scratching the back of his head sheepishly, apologising for his nosiness.
"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude – well, I guess I did but I wasn't trying to be rude, I swear -" he rambled worriedly.
Marcus likened him to a trembling lamb that stood before the big bad wolf. He sighed, feeling bad for likely scaring the beautiful boy with his frightening scowl. He was about to reassure the other that there was no harm done but was stopped when he saw the sudden change.
The boy's face stopped it's soft anxiety and went blank for a second, one brow furrowing as though in thought before his whole face transformed into a more seductive expression, his pouty lips tugging into a confident smirk.
"So you're into pretty boys, hm?" he murmured with a teasing lilt.
His heavy lids ran across Marcus' broad shoulders and muscled arms and his lips curled into a grin. "I'd certainly enjoy finding out just how well you could satisfy me," he said with a wink.
Marcus was stunned, not only by the flirty innuendo but also the sudden change in the boy's aura. He continued to look on, awed at how that young, innocent-looking lamb had turned into this cheeky little minx.
Marcus swallowed heavily. Merlin was it a turn on.
Marcus' brain managed to sputter back to life and he returned the boy's devilish smirk. "I wouldn't just satisfy you; I'd ruin you."
"-ir? Sir?"
Marcus was ripped from his stare off with the minx in front of him when he heard the barista calling for his attention. He glanced at the empty space in front of him and realised he was at the front of the queue, finally.
Shaking his head, he snapped out his order – coffee to go, black.
He turned to look back at the other only to realise the boy was already leaning over the counter, smiling at the flustered barista and asking her for the creamiest most chocolatey drink they had – with sprinkles!
Marcus felt a small smile curl his lips at the childishness of the boy that only moments ago was seducing him with his pretty bright eyes. Said eyes turned their attention from the barista and onto him, mischievous intent sparking in those depths as he opened his pink lips to speak.
"Oh, and he's paying," he said indicating to Marcus. A lop-sided grin spread across his face and he cupped a hand to his lips as though revealing a big secret.
"You can make it out to Harry. Harry Potter."
Not for the first time today, Marcus contemplated what God enjoyed messing with his life and watching his suffering. Only this time, as he eyed the beautiful emerald eyes that watched his reaction with mirth, he thanked them for finally getting something right.