Marcus Flint x Katie Bell. Just some fun and intrigue. I am so hopelessly stuck in writers block with my other stories and some are just not being well received, so I am more or less just amusing myself. Thank you for reading!

Rated M. I own nothing. This is just for pure enjoyment.

OoOoOo

"Are you going to deliver it or not?"

The owl stared her down imperiously and Katie sighed deeply. This was the stupidest thing she'd ever been dared to do, but of course she was going to do it or risk losing face. Peer pressure was a deadly bastard.

She stood in the owlery, trying to prompt the least agreeable bird of the flock into taking the package in the wee hours of the morning before anyone had the slightest chance of awakening. If she were caught, it would be disastrous, however, she could not risk someone else seeing… and there by knowing who sent it.

She'd only spent five minutes in the bird's company, its tawny head never moving, and she was ready to rip her hair out.

"I'll give you a treat," she tried crooning sweetly at the infuriating fowl.

It blinked large eyes at her, thoroughly unimpressed.

She clutched the package to her chest, distracted and flinching at every little sound that echoed up the corridor.

"Okay," she said, patience wearing thin, "I promise to give you an entire bag of treats if you take this package, and refuse to take or bring anything back to me. You cannot, under any circumstance, connect me to this."

She could see intrigue in the bird's eyes. It chuffed softly and held up a claw, talons extended.

Katie gasped in outrage.

"No I will not give you three bags!"

The owl lowered its foot, and turned its head preparing to go back to sleep.

"It's not dangerous," she pleaded. The heartless beast seemed unmoved by her delicate plight. She gnashed her teeth silently, as she debated. "One bag of treats … and another later in the week when I have a chance to buy more. That's two whole bags. More than fair. " She pointed out.

The tawny head turned toward her, ruffling its feathers in an irritated display. It extended its talons again.

"Not bloody three bags, I-"

The owl started to hoot loudly, causing Katie to jump in fright, nearly dropping the package. Several other pairs of eyes cracked open at her angrily.

"Fine!" She hissed angrily. "One tonight and two more later in the week."

Avian eyes appraised her, looking her up and down mutely. It hooted softly, almost expectant.

"You must be joking," the girl said in a sarcastic snarl.

Tawny hooted more forcefully, extending his wings aggressively.

"I can't believe this," she snorted angrily as she fished out the bag of treats concealed on her person. "Paying up front, as if I would go back on my word." She shoved the pouch at the owl, who she swore gloated in its triumph.

Suddenly, she hated birds.

Sighing in defeat she held the package up to the bird that snatched it in its beak with a delicate air. The ruffled feathers smoothed and it leapt off of its perch, taking flight in an instant. She watched it go with equal parts dismay and dread.

She'd charmed the thing six ways from Sunday and there was no conceivable way anyone could know. This could never come back on her, she'd made sure. At least, she'd made sure, that she'd made sure that it shouldn't come back on her.

Oh this was going to bite her in the arse. She could just feel it now and it was far too late to call the bird back.

She was going to kill Alicia for this.

OoOoOo

It started with the tapping at his window. Marcus Flint groaned as he rolled over in his bead. His eyes hardly daring to crack open at what could only be called an indecent hour. He'd run himself ragged in practice and the last thing he wanted to do on his one day to sleep in, was to be woken up early. He snarled, his crowded teeth flashing for a moment.

He threw off the covers and charged the window, he glared at the owl waiting their impatiently. He wasn't expecting any sort of missive, and he watched the owl warily. Slowly he opened the latch, his expression blank as the bird dropped the package on the windowsill. It looked at him expectantly, and he searched his room quickly. He found a single treat and offered it to the tawny bird, who looked slightly affronted. It did not even wait for him to open the parcel before taking off with an irritated hoot.

He raised a brow at the rudeness of the creature before closing his window and latching it tightly. His grey eyes looked at the unexpected mail with some misgivings. He gingerly picked up the brown paper parcel, noting that it had some writing on it.

From your biggest fan.

That was the only thing it said. Marcus wasn't even aware he had any fans. He knew his reputation was well deserved and he was not as physically blessed as some of the other boys in his year. He frowned, knowing he was not highly desired due to his behavior, mediocre grades, and as always-his teeth. It was not his fault that genetics decided to dislike him so.

With deft fingers he separated the paper, feeling the magic break that had charmed it closed.

A silken pair of black knickers fell to the floor at his feet. The faint scent of feminine perfume wafted in his nostrils.

His eyes widened and he blinked, doing a double take at the scrap of cloth on the floor. He picked it up, unsure if it was going to lash out and bite him or explode in his face. It had to be a trick of some kind. His features set into a glower at the thought. He would find out who had sent him this lewd and mocking 'present' in order to make them pay.

Merlin help them if the blasted things ruined his room someone. He could almost see them exploding into a fireball on his desk and ruining his latest half-finished essay.

He cautiously set the pair of plain black knickers on his desk and went for his wand. Better the desk than his bed or any other possessions he did not want to be forced to replace. His mind conjured up a list of likely curses that might be imbedded in the soft fabric, and he recited the spells effortlessly.

Finding curses was one of the few things he was rather good at. That and quidditch. He had a real talent for quidditch, but his parents did not approve of their son playing a sport for the rest of his life. To them he was an embarrassment, and there were days where he could hardly blame them. The other boys in his house were cleverer, more handsome, and more admired for their magical ability than Marcus 'troll' flint.

Most days it never bothered him. He knew what his station in life was and he would live it. There was no shame in not being the most wanted boy in school, or at home. That was the cruel reality of many a soul that had passed through Hogwarts. He held no illusions that he was somehow special. He was arrogant, but that was more of a Flint trait than anything.

There were no curses on the undergarment at all. It was jinx, hex, curse, and dark magic free.

His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. That could only mean that…

He laughed, unsure of what to think about the whole situation. He eyed the black knickers as if they were some Arithmacy equation he stood no hope of ever solving. He wiped his face tiredly.

It couldn't have been much past four in the morning.

A girl had sent him her knickers.

A girl had sent him her knickers.

He blushed even harder, his mouth gaping open like a fish as the thought struck him like a savage blow. Someone fancied him. Him! He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, trying to contain the happy spark that ignited inside of his chest.

Had anyone been present in the darkened room of Marcus Flint, they might have commented how handsome he looked with his eyes sparkling. Or how debonair, he appeared when he seemed so elated.

Though there were no curses or any sort of harmful magic, the garments did have traces of charms on them. He had not missed that part when he had so thoroughly scanned them. They had been warded against being returned to the rightful owner, and blocked from being used to locate the person.

Whoever fancied him was shy.

Marcus couldn't say exactly what that made him feel or why. His mind had already surrendered to the puzzle of figuring out who they belonged to. He didn't care about the undergarment. No, not in the slightest, and he brushed the black clothing into the rubbish bin. His fingers picked up the brown paper that had held the item securely.

'From your biggest fan,' he thought highly pleased as he tore the written section out from the rest of the wrapping. He held it reverently for a few moments.

His lips quirked into a smile as he traced the ink gently with his fingertips. Someone had gone to all the trouble of sending him this at the wee hours of the morning. That meant someone had broken the rules of curfew in order to get it to him. Someone had cared enough to charm the garments; a few of the charms had been extensive.

Most people would have called that highly suspect, and Marcus entertained that thought briefly, but none of it was in line with a sinister intent. There were no instructions for him, or anything that would humiliate him in anyway. It had been completely innocuous.

Still, whoever she was, she had done all of this for him. She had risked punishment, and sent him a message that made him feet ten feet tall.

She thought he was special.

Flint tucked the paper, containing one simple sentence into his robe pocket. The robe hung on the wall, ready to be worn for the new day. Flint could still feel the heat on his cheeks from the blush such a small thing caused him.

OoOoOo

Katie Bell had thought that nothing would come of it. Nothing at all. Days had passed by and Marcus Flint had not said anything to her, or anyone else. In fact, he had been almost tolerable since her visit to the owlery…

…with tawny, the avian extortionist.

Even during the latest match, he had been nearly sporting. Katie hadn't known what to make of that. If a pair of knickers was all it took to turn Marcus Flint into a semi-less pratish bloke, she could spare one or two more.

She snickered at her own private joke as she'd rounded the corner to the pitch. It was time for practice once more, and she halted at the sight that greeted her.

Olvier Wood, and three of her teammates were locked in a heated argument with Flint. The very boy she'd been mentally snarking at.

'Speak of the devil,' she thought tiredly. Katie had no idea what the argument was about this time, and she cursed herself for jinxing what had been shaping up to be good thing.

Her eyes widened as Wood shoved Flint, who lost his balance and toppled to the dirt. His green quidditch uniform flailing about him as a single slip of brown paper slipped out of his pocket. She walked closer, hoping to put an end to the fight before it got out of proportion.

Katie's eyes widened as she made out the one sentence that had her blood chilling in her veins.

"You're wrong," he said with quite wounded dignity. His words caused Katie to still and her breath to catch as he grabbed up the small slip of cheap brown paper. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest. She knew what it said. Her pulse fluttered at a stark realization.

He'd kept it.

Why in the name of Merlin had he kept it?

She did not have to ponder overlong.

"Someone thinks I'm special," he said with conviction.

"You? Are ya daft? Who would find someone like you special?" Her captain, Oliver Wood sneered dismissively.

The boy picked himself up off the ground, dusting off his uniform while remaining mute to the taunt.

Katie could not process what she was seeing. Flint hadn't gloated about getting knickers, or how the girls were swooning for him. No, he had done none of those things. He'd kept her hastily penned address to him. Too late she realized the ramifications of what should have been a simple dare.

Flint thought someone cared about him; truly cared about him.

She'd never seen anything so heartbreakingly sad in her life. For him to get so worked up over one little sentence… what kind of life had he led until now? Was there so little affection in his world? What sort of a monster was she?

She watched him straighten, his grey eyes flashing angrily at Wood and for once she couldn't blame him. Oliver must have said something further to upset Flint who snarled a few insults, but Katie could only focus on the scrap of paper he held fiercely in his grip as if he were defending it against the world.

'Someone thinks I'm special,' he had said. There was such a bittersweet longing in the words. An expression of self-assurance and comfort in him holding onto that silly sentence. His words betrayed more than she had ever previously known. Did no one think that he was? She couldn't recall his name being said with anything other than venom or anger and she could not remember so much as a single girl that admitted to having a relationship with him.

Oh.

She felt shame carve a path up her stomach. What she had done was a rather rotten thing indeed then. It also explained his more pleasant behavior recently. She flushed with regret. How alone he must feel. Even if he was Slytherin and not a terribly nice person.

"Some slag no doubt," Oliver replied in a goading tone.

"Don't talk about her like that," Marcus shouted, the veins in his neck standing out prominently.

"Seems I've hit a nerve. What? Was she passed around by your whole house already?"

Katie cast a sideways glance at Oliver. He didn't know he was technically talking about her, but Katie knew. However inadvertently, she was the girl he was talking about.

"Be quiet before I shut you up." The darker-haired boy snarled. His face was mottled in his rage. "If you ever talk about her like that again, you won't be able to walk for weeks."

The threat carried some weight, but the crowd made both males unwilling to lose face.

"Oh? Does your lass have a name then? Because I haven't seen any blind students lately."

"You're hilarious Wood. Did you think that one up all by yourself?" A scowl crossed his features. "It's none of your business."

Oliver arched a brow. "I didn't realize you and your hand were so attached Flint," he quipped with a disparaging glance at Flint. The Gryffindors rumbled with laughter at the slight. "Still better that than some diseased-"

A stinging hex caught Oliver in the midsection and he toppled over with a curse.

Flint's wand was in his face faster than anyone could blink.

"Don't you ever impugn her honor again." He said lowly, his continence menacing.

Katie could only gasp, as she listened dumbfounded. He was defending her honor. Some small part of her fluttered in girlish delight though it was wholly inappropriate because it had been all for the wrong reasons.

His glare could have frozen the sun, and she couldn't help but think that he wasn't quite so terrible to look at. Her heart slowed in her chest as his grey eyes met hers and she knew was staring.

As he stormed away, she couldn't help but feel that he'd somehow wormed into the tiniest corner of her heart.