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Marcus always said he wanted Oliver dead, but that didn’t mean he actually wanted to kill him. And he especially didn’t want this fight to go this far.
Throwing the broom away, he sat down next to Oliver to see if he was still alive. Feeling a faint pulse, he could finally breathe; at least he wouldn’t be arrested for murder.
His next thought was to leave, but leaving and unconscious person outside in the cold snow was not the smartest thing to do; not even he was that stupid. Carefully he tried to smack Oliver’s cheek, hoping it was all that was needed.
“Wood,” he said, annoyed the Gryffindor didn’t react. “Wake up you bloody wanker.” It didn’t help, which worried Marcus.
Blood from his eyebrow trailed Oliver’s features before landing on the fresh snow. Marcus didn’t know much first aid, which made the whole situation worse for him. Slapping Oliver slightly harder, he prayed that he would wake up soon before anyone might find them.
Only when he heard moans escaping Oliver’s throat did Marcus’ nerves relax again. “Did you think pretending like you were dead would save your pathetic arse, you were sorely mistaken you fucking nobhead.”
“At least I knew you wouldn’t leave me,” Oliver said with a grin.
Hating him more than before, Marcus slapped Oliver’s face again. Not wanting to be close to him, Marcus stood up and headed back to school.
“Thank you,” Oliver called after him.
Marcus didn’t stop or turn around, he would not give Oliver that pleasure. Instead he pretended he hadn’t heard him and walked away from the bleeding boy, hoping he wouldn’t tell others about their fight, or that Marcus actually showed mercy; that would surely destroy Marcus’ reputation.