It Happened One-Night Stand

Chapter Three - Run With the Hunted

"Yeah sometimes when I see you

I'm scared to state my case

Got to take my chances

Will you leave or will you stay?

Got to know the way, got to know the way

I'm so tired of waitin'

Somethin' that I got to know

If there's one chance that you love me

Then we got to let it grow

We got to let it grow, we got to let it grow."

~ "Gimme What's Mine" by Nazareth

It wasn't that Marcus was looking forward to getting cursed by either Oliver Wood or Percy Weasley. It was just...he expected something to happen after he'd provoked Oliver Wood into going to Weasley's flat. Something. Anything. But nothing had; Weasley hadn't even bothered to hunt him down and castrate him and Wood hadn't come to hex him to next week for pretending he'd shagged the redhead (he'd expected that to happen). But there was nothing, not even a word, and when he'd seen Wood at Diagon Alley, the Gryffindor had had the audacity to blink and look puzzled when Marcus had sauntered over and casually -- all right, nosily -- what the hell had gone down that day.

It was as if they'd both Obliviated each other! Which, Marcus readily admitted to himself, they might have. Perhaps Wood was even bigger closet case than the Slytherin had realized. Weasley too, for that matter. But damn it, he wanted to know what had happened! It had somehow, over the course of a few weeks, become a frustration verging on a bit of an obsession.

So when an owl landed on the window ledge of his flat and offered him a note written in a prim, pristine handwriting that could only be Percy Weasley's, he couldn't bring himself to refuse the very unusual invitation to come to tea the following day, even if the prissy 'PS: Try not to be as slovenly as usual' made him bristle (well, once he'd conjured a dictionary and figured out what slovenly meant).

Once he was at Weasley's flat, however, he wondered what the hell he was doing. Perhaps Weasley had just Obliviated Wood's memory and was now going to do the same to him? Well, that wouldn't be so bad. Then he'd stop bloody wondering what had happened!

"Hello, Marcus," said Weasley pleasantly, opening the door and smiling at him. Far too pleasantly, and it began to dawn on Marcus that he probably should have warned a friend that he was coming here, in case Weasley meant to kill him. Of course, that would've probably been easier if he had friends....

Weasley just kept smiling, and Marcus realized he hadn't said anything. "Oh...hello Weasley." The warm smile was beginning to creep him out -- even during the attempted one-night stand, Weasley hadn't smiled so warmly or with such abandon. The oddness of it all made his mouth open on its own and say, "Er, I got your owl."

"I suspected as much, since you're here." Ah, there was the dryness that Marcus remembered from Hogwarts, and he felt himself relax as Weasley's expression shifted to one of pure politeness, his face becoming shuttered, as always. "Please, come in."

"Thanks," he found himself mumbling, and stepped inside, blinking at the...clutter. Somehow, he'd have thought Weasley's flat would be, well, organized and barren, but there was random untidiness, like newspapers that cluttered the floor and painfully colorful paintings that hung haphazardly on the wall. "Er...your flat is...interesting."

"A mess," said Weasley, and there was damned pride in his voice that made Marcus turn and squint suspiciously at him.

"It was a lot tidier before I moved in. And those paintings were my idea, not Percy's," came an all-too-familiar voice, and Marcus felt the color drain from his face as Oliver Wood waltzed in from the next room, wearing an easy smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes. Shit.

"Er," he said again. "Hello, Wood."

The smile still didn't seem to reach Wood's eyes as the burly Quidditch player said, "Hello, Flint. I noticed you remembered to knock rather than barge in this time."

Double shit. He was definitely about to get his arse kicked-- "Wait, moved in? You two actually got together?" He had figured Wood might be attracted to the redhead, but he hadn't figured they'd actually...get serious. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Wood smirked and moved to wrap an arm around Weasley's waist. He looked smug, and Marcus resisted the impulse to punch him in the face.

"Yes, we did," Weasley said, and smiled that same warm, open smile that had made Marcus uneasy earlier. "After you, uh, decided to antagonize Oliver, he came over here and...."

"Things worked themselves out," finished Wood, and then abruptly, "Tea?"

Thrown off-guard, Marcus blinked. "What?"

"Tea," Weasley said. "You were invited here to have tea, remember?" At the expression on Marcus's face, he laughed. "We didn't poison it, Marcus. Though Oliver made it, and he tends to make it extra-sweet."

"I make it just right," Wood said in an injured tone, and Marcus smirked when Weasley just raised an eyebrow and looked at his boyfriend. Well, he definitely approved of this relationship if Weasley mocked Wood.

"Well, you invited me for tea, so I suppose I should drink some," Marcus muttered. If they're together, perhaps they were going to thank him for his efforts. And perhaps the tea wouldn't be poisoned. One could always hope.

So he sat down on the couch and fiddled with the teacup that Wood handed over, sniffing at it and taking a cautious taste. He made a face. "Bloody hell, Wood, what'd you do, pour some tea into a bowl of sugar? This barely tastes like tea!"

Wood scowled even as Weasley laughed. "It's not that bad," he said, sitting down in a chair and tugging on Wood's robes until the other man sat on the arm of the chair. He sipped at his own cup, and added, "Better than usual, actually."

"Obviously the overload of sugar has killed your sense of taste, Weasley."

"You can call me Percy, you know." The redhead smiled, a smile which turned to an amused grin when Marcus rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Why should I--" Marcus stopped as someone knocked at the door of Weasley's flat. "Who else did you invite?" He narrowed his eyes when Wood just smiled and went to the door. "Who--"

But Weasley suddenly leaned forward and smiled earnestly at him. "Risk anything, Marcus! Do the hardest thing on earth!" he said in a low voice, and Marcus began, "What in the hel--"

"Percy!" A very-freckled Charlie Weasley leaped upon his younger brother and ruffled his hair playfully. "Very funny joke, inviting me to tea when you know I don't touch the stuff. One reason Mum always despaired of me."

Marcus stared, and understood the meaning of two old sayings in a single moment: first, wanting the earth to swallow him, and secondly, hating someone with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to kill Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood.

Charlie turned and caught sight of him, his smile turning quizzical. "Hello there...." Releasing his brother, he stepped forward, and offered a strong, callused hand to Marcus. "Flint, isn't it? Slytherin?"

Marcus just stared dumbly at him, and after a moment Charlie looked embarrassed and dropped his hand, turning to Wood. "Oliver, good match last week. That was a surprise, almost beating the Tornados. Came closest anyone else has in ages."

"I'll say thank you on behalf of my team, since I'm on reserve and didn't get in the air at all," said Wood in a dry tone, but he smiled back at Charlie, and Marcus, for the second time in less than ten minutes, wanted to punch him in the face.

Then Charlie flung himself casually on the couch next to Marcus, and the Slytherin forgot how to breathe. That didn't stop him from noticing Weasley and Wood's smirks. Okay, now he wanted to punch Weasley as well. Meanwhile, Charlie seemed totally at ease, sprawling his legs out like he belonged there and chatting to Wood about the Quidditch season.

Why did Marcus suddenly feel like a teenager again, with legs and elbows he didn't know what to do with? He shifted awkwardly on the couch, and took a sip of his tea, forgetting how awful it was. He made a face, and then flushed as Charlie chose that moment to glance over at him.

"No one tell you how awful Oliver's tea is?" the redheaded dragon-tamer remarked with a grin.

Marcus opened his mouth and at least this time words came out, even if they were jerky and fumbling and left the taste of embarrassment in his mouth that was incredibly sour. "Weasley did, but I-I like a challenge...worst tea I've ever, well, had, but I'll be damned if I don't, er, finish it." Shit, he sounded stupid, and if there had been a spell for it, he would have kicked himself without being noticed. Why did he have to get tongue-tied around the one bloke he liked?

Charlie, however, chuckled. "Like a challenge, I like that." He turned to Wood. "I think I'll challenge myself as well, and have some tea." Accepting a cup that a very sulky-looking Wood provided, he took a sip and grimaced. "You're right, Flint; this will be a challenge."

"It's, uh, Marcus actually. Marcus Flint." He knew his face was red, but mumbled anyway, "Played against you during Hogwarts, though you beat the Slytherin team silly every year."

"I remember," said Charlie, and Marcus felt his heart give a funny little leap. "Fred and George said you became Captain. Congratulations." He offered up a warm smile, and Marcus found himself smiling lopsidedly back and for a moment not giving a damn that Wood and Weasley were watching.

"Thanks. Was pitiful compared to you, but I did my best. While cheating, of course, as I'm sure Fred and George told you." He was surprised when the last sentence came out as playful rather than angry.

Charlie laughed. "Yes, I'm afraid they used...very colorful language to describe Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain. Especially that time you blocked Harry from catching the Snitch."

He blinked. "You remember that? That had to have been...that was Potter's first year."

"I remembered because you didn't cheat back when I was in school, and I was surprised when you resorted to it," said Charlie, and there was an odd tone to his voice, as if the dragon-lover was almost...disappointed in him.

"Oh...I, well...." Marcus knew he was blushing like a girl, knew it and yet was helpless to stop it, dropping his gaze and glaring at the horrible-tasting tea as though it was to blame for everything. "Shouldn't have cheated, I know, but...Potter always won anyway."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" He heard the testy note in his voice, and inwardly winced. He really was going to kill Weasley and Wood after this. At least before Charlie hadn't known he was a bastard!

"The point," said Charlie slowly, "is that I want to know why you played fair until I left." A strong hand grabbed Marcus's chin and forced him to look up and stare into intense eyes that demanded an honest response.

Marcus mentally sighed. An honest response? An honest response would send Charlie's tea flying in his face. "Because...because I didn't want you to consider me a prat and an asshole, even though I'm a Slytherin. After you left, though, I didn't mind pissing people off." Because it seemed like everyone in the world other than Charlie was an idiot, really.

"And you didn't want to piss me off why?" Maybe Charlie didn't realize it, but his hand was still holding Marcus's chin, and that was very distracting, not to mention disorienting.

"I...let go of my chin."

Charlie raised an eyebrow and didn't move, a smug sort of smirk forming on his lips.

"Let go of my chin," Marcus repeated, frustrated beyond belief. When Charlie just kept staring, he growled and grabbed the man's wrist, wrenching the freckled hand away from his face. "Now I'll answer your bloody question! I didn't want to piss you off because-because...." But now, though his lips were moving, nothing was coming out, and all he could think about was the fact that he was holding Charlie Weasley's hand. It was funny how every erotic dream paled in comparison to just to the feel of Charlie's hand in his.

"Because?"

Risk anything. Do the hardest thing on earth. Weasley's words came back to him then, and he thought he understood what the man had meant. "Because," he breathed, and grabbed a fistful of the redhead's mane and dragged him close for a hungry, awkward kiss. Charlie's mouth was chapped and tasted vaguely of sugar, probably left over from Wood's horrible tea, but the lips were warm and firm and topped the hand-holding sensation by far.

Charlie's mouth was also unresponsive, and after a moment Marcus pulled away, feeling his face burn and his stomach lurch unpleasantly. Risk anything, ha, it was easy for Weasley to say when he had Wood. Charlie just stared at him, and he understood even better what it meant to want the earth to swallow him up. Being buried six feet under was by far preferable to having Charlie look at him with a blank expression.

"Sorry," he muttered, standing and then looking down hopelessly at his tea cup. He looked up to say something to Weasley and Wood, he wasn't sure what, and stared when he realized that the two were nowhere to be found. Oh well. Maybe they hadn't witnessed his humiliation.

He started for the door, meaning to Apparate as soon as he had slammed the door behind him, when a muscular arm suddenly wrapped around his waist and halted him. "What--"

"I thought you enjoyed a challenge, Marcus." The words were purred, and Charlie's other arm wrapped around his chest and pinned his arms to his sides. "And here you are, giving up when I don't kiss you back."

For a second, Marcus felt almost dizzy, and then he leaned back to rest against the other man's chest and drawled, trying to gather a shred of dignity, "I wasn't giving up. I was trying to get to the nearest apothecary to save me from whatever poison Wood had put in my tea."

Charlie chuckled, his breath ghosting against Marcus's neck. "You weren't giving up? It sure seemed like that to me. And just for future reference, I don't snog quitters."

Marcus twisted in the other man's grip, and looked at Charlie, who wore a slightly crooked smile that creased the corners of his eyes and made him far handsomer than Marcus remembered him being at Hogwarts. At last Marcus spoke, and it was in a low, predatorily murmur. "Do you snog Slytherins?"

"Never have."

"Then accept this challenge: snog me and see what a Slytherin can do," said Marcus, not caring if this was just a game to the older man. Even a one-night stand with Charlie Weasley would do.

"A challenge I really, really like," said Charlie. Later, the redhead would admit that he'd known Marcus's full name ever since their first Quidditch match against each other, and had been keeping tabs on him through the twins, trying to figure out the puzzle that was Marcus Flint.

But for the moment, Charlie just pulled him close and snogged him senseless.

"Kiss the flame
Let's run with the hunted, the untamed
Kiss the flame
Embrace the faceless, the unnamed
Kiss the flame."

~ "Kiss the Flame" by Jewel

" Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth."