I Love You, Melancholy

Author's Notes: I don't own the characters within. They are property of zee JK Rowling~

Key:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ = Scene/Time Change (Same Day)

------------------------------------------------------------ = Day(s) Later

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Marcus was walking entirely too fast for Oliver. Every two steps he took looked like it was just one for the other boy, which was somewhat annoying. Thankfully, though, Pucey, Higgs and Warrington had decided to stay behind at the lunch table, so it was just going to be the two of them whenever he happened to get close enough to catch Marcus’ attention.

When walking failed, he finally just called out to him. The Slytherin stopped and looked over his shoulder, letting out a somewhat aggravated sound. He didn’t continue walking, though, so Oliver took this time to catch up to him.

“Hey,” he said, sniffing some. He was a little out of breath from his speed-walk, but he wasn’t going to show that if he could help it.

Marcus narrowed his eyebrows, looking at Oliver warily. “What do you want, Wood? Come to make fun of me again?”

“About that,” Oliver began. “I kind of…er, wanted to apologize about that.”

Clearly, that wasn’t what Marcus had been expecting. His wary look became one of confusion. “…Wait, what?”

Wood nodded, feeling somewhat more at ease now. “Yeah, I wanted to apologize. I kind of went too far yesterday.”

“Yeah, you did.” Flint glanced down at the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up, his confusion was still somewhat present. “Git.”

Don’t get angry, Oliver thought to himself. He felt that telltale wave of heat wash over him when Marcus called him that, but it wasn’t going to resolve the issue if he let himself respond the way he really wanted to. “Just thought it was like our regular bickering, but yeah. Sorry.”

Part of him didn’t expect Marcus to accept his apology, so he was surprised when he saw the considering look upon the other’s face. Flint rubbed the back of his neck, pausing. Then: “…Yeah, I guess it’s okay.”

Oliver refrained from asking whether or not he was sure, because part of him expected the other captain to respond with some kind of smart-ass remark that would reveal that he truly wasn’t. Instead he just smiled, sticking out his hand. Marcus looked down at the hand, but he didn’t shake it.

“Well then,” Wood said, nodding firmly while he took his hand back. “I suppose that’s all. See you in class tomorrow?”

“Whatever,” Marcus said. “See you in class.”

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Sometimes it surprised Marcus just how much he could obsess over one little thing.

After Oliver apologized to him the day before, he started off not caring all that much. Then, after Transfiguration that afternoon, he found himself thinking about it more and more. Why had he apologized? He never did before, just like Marcus never did. They just didn’t, because their little squabbles were just that: squabbles. They never did much damage and usually just served for more animosity on the pitch, which led to better gaming. What had been the point?

By the time dinner passed, he didn’t have any good, plausible answer. All he could think of was that Oliver was either truly being polite, or that he was just taunting him, which was the one that Marcus was leaning towards. Of course, that answer hadn’t come along until during dinner, when he caught Oliver laughing with his friends. He didn’t know what about, of course, but he could damn well guess. Probably making him out to be the fool. Jerks.

Marcus went to sleep anxious, because he couldn’t quite figure out what Oliver’s reasoning was behind his having apologized. This led him to be more than a little irritable that following morning during his Potions course. He was able to mask it, for the most part, save for when he had been paired up with that idiot Head Boy, Weasley. Thankfully, Percy didn’t expect Marcus to do too much, and so he did most of the work himself. Whenever Snape showed up Flint would pretend like he was doing something, much to the annoyance of Percy.

When he arrived in Charms that afternoon, his mood had fluctuated so much that Marcus was surprised when he found himself kind of looking forward to the class. He knew, though, that the main reason he was looking forward to it was because he would finally be able to ask Oliver what in the world was up with that apology. He was probably overanalyzing it—which was surprising—but still, he wanted to know, and damn it, he was going to figure it out.

He didn’t have enough time before the lesson began to ask the Keeper what in the hell was up, and so he would need to wait until after Flitwick was done explaining what they were going to do today before he could approach Oliver about it. Marcus only paid half-attention while Flitwick discussed their charm of the day, the color-changing charm. It didn’t sound difficult, but he missed hearing that the trick was in getting the exact color you desired, especially when switching from colors far apart on the color spectrum, such as yellow and purple.

What he did pay attention to, however, was the fact that Flitwick had deemed this a “choose your own partner” practical. He wasn’t too far away from Oliver, and so he stumbled a bit to get out of his double desk, moving towards him. Percy, who was just a few chairs away, was also making his way towards the Keeper. Marcus was bound and determined not to let him get there first, so he sped up, nearly running into Oliver’s desk in the process.

Needless to say, Wood looked a little baffled.

“…Hi?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Let’s be partners,” Marcus spat out quickly, before Percy—who had just arrived—could ask.

Percy looked just about as confused as Oliver did. But, he said nothing, instead looking at the other Gryffindor to see what he would say. Flint did, as well.

“Why?”

Easily retorted, Marcus thought. He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Why not?”

Oliver looked at Percy, still quite confused. Percy then said something that Marcus hadn’t been expecting, but was nominally thankful for:

“I’ll find someone else.”

And then he left.

Marcus would have smiled, but he figured it best not to. Finally, he would figure out what the hell was going on. Since Oliver, too, had a double desk, Marcus took a seat next to the Keeper, clearing his throat. He pulled out his wand to make it look like they were doing something, but in all honesty, he had no intention of working…at least, not right off the bat.

He parted his lips to speak, only to be cut off by Oliver, who said the same thing he was going to, “So.” But, of course, he continued. “What is this all about?”

At first, the Slytherin said nothing. He didn’t know what was stopping him. Maybe he just wanted to word it right? Maybe he was still worried about it? That was dumb, he shouldn’t have been. Whatever the case was, Marcus got over it quickly, because nothing was going to be figured out if he just sat there, looking like an idiot.

“Why’d you apologize to me yesterday?”

Oliver’s reply was simple. So simple, in fact, that he looked a bit surprised that Marcus would ask such a thing. “…Because I felt the need to?”

“You felt the need to apologize?” Now Oliver wasn’t the only one confused. Well, so much for Flint’s belief that he had been making fun of him with his friends. “You mean it wasn’t a joke?”

“Why would I joke about apologizing?”

Marcus shrugged a little. “…I dunno. You wanted to get another jab in on me?”

Wood shook his head, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “I may poke and prod at you, but I’m not that big of a jerk. I felt bad, all right? You’re a lot more sensitive this year than you were before, and I keep forgetting that.”

More sensitive this year than before? What? Marcus’ confusion resulted in him furrowing his brow. “What the bloody hell do you mean?”

“There you go!” Oliver said, pointing at Marcus. “You’re cursing at me and all I did was state something. You didn’t do that before.”

What did he mean? He wondered. “I wasn’t being mean,” he said. “I just don’t—oh. Before. Last year?”

Oliver nodded. “Yeah, last year. It was all a fun and games rivalry then, but now it seems like just about anything will set you off. I mean, I guess I get it, but—”

“No, no, I get it,” Marcus said dismissively. “I’m just not happy that I’m stuck here another year, you know? I don’t think you would be, either.”

The Keeper said nothing in response for a moment, only glancing down and making a face. Clearly he didn’t want to repeat another year. But, what was strange was the fact that he hadn’t used it as an insult.

“Why haven’t you used that as an insult yet?” Marcus inquired curiously.

Appearing somewhat offended, Oliver replied, “Would you use that as an insult?” He paused, and the older boy looked mildly amused. “Okay,” Oliver continued, “so maybe you would. But I dunno, it seems like a low blow to me. I wouldn’t do that. Well, I take that back. If you really pissed me off, I think I would, but otherwise…”

“Okay,” Marcus said. He could handle that. At least now he knew the truth. As usual, his slight paranoia had blown the problem out of proportion. “So…what’re we supposed to be doing?” he asked. He looked around the room. “What’s the charm?”

“Umm…” The younger boy took out his wand, biting his lip. “It’s a color changing charm,” he explained. “Not too hard? Flitwick wanted us to start off simple.” Oliver pulled one of the squares of cloth toward him, the red one, before resting his gaze on Marcus. “Do you have your cloth with you?”

Flint shook his head. “No, I…left them at my desk. I’ll go get—”

“Don’t bother,” Oliver said. “It’s a waste of time. We’ll just use this one.”

As Oliver fidgeted with the square red cloth, Marcus watched curiously. He could hear his other classmates’ exasperated groans, as well as their very few happy cheers. The incantation that came along with it was easy enough (“Commuto!”), but it was the motion and the willpower behind it that made the charm difficult.

“Damn it,” Wood murmured. He had only managed to change the square for a very brief moment, and even then, it had only been the middle of it, where he had poked it with his wand. “Commuto!” he said again, tapping his wand on the cloth. Again, the same results. “You try it,” he said, sounding slightly aggravated.

Marcus, instead of going with the red one, grabbed the yellow cloth. Gripping his wand, he pointed it at the cloth and said clearly, “Commuto!”

Barely anything happened. There was a small bit of green where the tip of his wand touched the cloth, but it disappeared the second after. He tried again, only to produce the same results. If there was anything Marcus hated, it was failing when he really tried. His ears turned pink and his cheeks did, as well.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed quietly, frustration apparent in his voice.

Marcus then heard a voice saying, “Can’t do it, can you?” The voice didn’t belong to Oliver. No, in fact, it belonged to that annoying git, Weasley. Flint looked up, glaring some.

“It’s not that hard,” Percy said, shaking his head. “I thought I’d come over to see if Oliver needed any help—”

“We’re helping each other,” Marcus said quickly, without thinking about it. “So bugger off, Weasley.” He looked at the Gryffindor captain, who seemed slightly perplexed.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Honestly, that’s like the blind leading the blind. But whatever, if you don’t need my help…”

“P-Perce—!” But it was too late; before Oliver could get his name out, Percy was already walking toward where he had come from. Wood looked at Marcus. “What in the world was that?”

“We don’t need him,” Flint stated crossly. “All he does is act like he’s superior to us—yes, us—and that’s just fucking ridiculous. I don’t know about you, but I don’t take that.”

A considering look overtook the Keeper’s face. He was quiet for a moment. “…Yeah, that’s true, isn’t it? He could have been nicer about asking.”

Marcus couldn’t help but feel slightly proud of himself. He had swayed Oliver’s opinion—not that he had fully intended to, mind you—and was now determined to do this. “Let’s get back to work,” he began, “but before we do…do you, uh, know what he meant by ‘the blind leading the blind’?”

Wood shrugged. “Haven’t the faintest.”

A small, somewhat amused smile appeared on Marcus’ face. “Me neither. But whatever, let’s prove him wrong.”

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