Ok, so I've recently fallen in love with Marcus Flint. I wasn't aware it had happened until it was too late and now I'm determined to write a Harry/Flint multi-chaptered story because…. I have too much spare time on my hands basically….*blushes* this is the fist chapter so ...enjoy!

Harry is 14 here so naturally the book is set during the 4th book

(*)

Chapter 1

Marcus Flint looked up from his half-finished plate of food, scowling across at the Gryffindor table, his dark eyes travelling up and down the rows of happy, talking faces.

''Fools.'', he murmured to himself before looking back down at his chicken and continuing to eat.

It was not until the cloud of live bats overhead flew over the Slytherin table twice more did Flint look up from his plate to survey the hall, his scowl still firmly in place.

He looked first at the Hufflepuffs; Diggory sat there with his stupid gang of simpering girls, then at the Ravenclaws, not really registering much about them other than they didn't talk as much as the other houses, and finally back on the Gryffindor table.

His eyes moved up the table and found the small patch of fiery hair that marked the where the Weasleys were sitting; he frowned and was just about to look back at his food when a pair of bright green eyes met his own.

Marcus held Potter's gaze for a full 5 seconds before looking down to take a sip from his goblet and when he looked back up, he saw the boy's head jerk quickly to look back down at his plate.

Even from this distance, Flint could tell that Potter was blushing. He scowled to himself wondering why, but didn't even have time to consider the issue when Malfoy, who was sat opposite him, nudged him under the table.

''Hey, Flint.''

''Yeah?''

''You entering the tournament?'', the annoying blond boy asked, a spoonful of soup suspended half way to his mouth.

Flint shrugged his broad shoulders, placed his knife and fork together, and folded his arms across his muscular chest.

This was all many people really got from Marcus Flint. It was not that people didn't want to be his friend, but the boy was a natural loner, preferring his own company in the common room, or flying around on the Quidditch pitch late into the night.

He glanced back at Potter and saw the boy's eyes linger on him for a second longer before engaging the Granger mud-blood in determined conversation, his cheeks pink again.

Flint raised an eyebrow at this before looking up at the staff table, noting that Barty Crouch didn't seem to be eating at all, rather pushing his food around on his plate, not that Marcus cared much about this.

(*)

''So all we have to do is get over the age line!'', said Malfoy as the Slytherins stood up and got ready to depart the Great Hall with the Durmstrang students.

Flint grunted and carried on walking, looking over the heads of the surrounding crowd from his 6 foot 2 vantage point.

Malfoy continued to pester Flint about whether or not he was entering the tournament right up until they reached the entrance to the Great Hall and found it blocked by Karkaroff, Moody and Potter.

Ignoring Malfoy's insults about the boy and staring over the heads of a few 6th years in front of him, Flint could see that Potter looked a bit overwhelmed by the aggressive old man and the ex-Auror.

He couldn't explain, even to himself, why he felt the smallest twinge of annoyance that the 14 year old should feel so pressured and cornered, but he repressed the feeling almost immediately and barged straight through the blockage at the doorway and off towards the Slytherin dungeons.

(*)

Flint usually slept late on Saturdays and went for a fly around the Quidditch pitch.

Consequentially, he did not see the events with Fred and George in the entrance hall.

He also didn't see Potter's emerald eyes scanning the Slytherin table for him at breakfast.

It was not until he was walking, broomstick over one of his broad shoulders; down to the Quidditch pitch after a quick breakfast did he see the boy walking down to Hagrid's hut with his friends.

He strode past them, looking dead ahead at the goal posts, only looking back when he thought they had gone.

But when he turned to look, he saw that Potter was standing outside Hagrid's cabin waiting to be let in, and that his eyes were fixed once again on himself, Marcus.

He held the boy's gaze yet again until Potter was let into the cabin and carried on walking towards the pitch.

Why did the Potter kid keep looking at him? He thought, scowling to himself as he weaved in and out of the stands surrounding the pitch, looping one of the goal posts before landing back on the ground to take a drink.

He wasn't sure why, but he didn't really mind. The only reason the issue kept cropping up in his mind was that he didn't know why the boy kept looking at him as though he was an interesting magazine.

He frowned against the stinging rain that had begun to fall upon the grounds and marched back up to the pitch towards the castle to shower before the feast that evening.

(*)

''Harry Potter!'', Called Dumbledore as he clutched the little piece of smoking paper in his hands.

The boy stood slowly up following a nudge from the Granger girl and walked toward the top of the hall, Flint saw the headmaster whisper something to him before the lithe form of Potter disappeared through the door at the back of the hall.

And there it was again, Flint's twinge of annoyance at the fact that everyone seemed to be bitching about Potter. He ground his teeth a little before looking back up at the head table where the staff members were muttering to each other.

''Stupid little dweeb trying to get himself more fame!'', blurted out Malfoy who was sitting a few seats away from Flint.

There was a murmur of agreement and Flint looked away, his annoyance flaring a little more.

Everyone seemed to have it in for Potter at one point or another and he didn't like it, but didn't know why.

(*)

Harry walked into the Chamber off the hall in a trance.

He looked to his left and right as though checking that there was no one there before advancing into the pool of warmth cast by the crackling fire.

He couldn't bring himself to explain what had happened to the other Champions, even though they fired question after question at him and the ensuing argument about his worth to compete in the tournament angered him as much as it scared him.

When the conclusion had been drawn that he would, after all have to compete, he walked into the Entrance Hall with Cedric and, after Cedric had bade him goodnight, delved back into his own thoughts.

He was irritated that Cedric didn't believe him and didn't make any move to walk up the stairs, but merely stood there, gazing at the oaken front doors for about a minute until they opened and startled him out of his reverie.

Marcus flint stood there, broomstick over his shoulder, his short black hair dripping water onto his square-jawed face.

He did not seem to have noticed Harry and it was not until the boy had turned around to walk up the marble staircase did Flint look around.

''Potter?'', he said.

Harry looked around to see Flint standing by the door leading to the dungeons.

''Flint I haven't got the energy for any jibes, I'm tired.'', said Harry, placing his head in his small hands and looking rather lost.

Again, this brought up emotions similar to those of protectiveness in the Slytherin and he continued to look at the petite Gryffindor until the latter looked up.

''Your name came out of the goblet.''. Grunted Marcus, looking Harry straight in the face.

''I know and before you say anything I didn't put my name in!'', Harry said in irritation, lifting his head out of his hands and stuff them in his pockets moodily.

''Ok.'', said Flint. But it wasn't the same type of 'ok' Cedric had given him, Flint actually seemed to believe him.

''You believe me?''

''Yeah''

''Why?''

Flint shrugged before turning to walk down the staircase leading to his common room.

''Flint''

Marcus turned around to see that Harry hadn't moved.

''Thanks.'', said the raven headed teenager in what seemed like relief.

''What for?'', said Flint, his eyebrows contracting slightly as he regarded the boy.

''Believing me.'', said Harry before blushing violently and turning away, leaving the muscular Slytherin in complete confusion.

(*)

Several days after this encounter, Flint was rushing towards one of his Transfiguration lessons when he paused at the top of a long corridor.

Potter and the Creevy prat were walking along it towards his corridor and Flint could see from this distance that Potter looked tired and stressed, dark circles under his eyes and his pale face looking even whiter as he continued to walk.

Flint shrugged to himself and carried on walking towards his lesson, but no longer rushing.

He was just about to turn back and look over his shoulder when a voice several feet behind him said ''Hey'' and he turned around properly.

It was Potter, looking just as pale as ever, rushing to catch up with Flint.

Any other Gryffindor and Flint would have told them to piss off, but he allowed Harry to fall into step next to him.

''Where you going?'', asked Harry.

''Transfiguration, you?''

''Photo shoot.''

Flint looked at Harry who had gone even paler.

''Cool.'', he said before looking ahead again.

''Isn't'', said Harry looking miserable.

Flint did not say anything and Harry spoke again. ''The more publicity I get, the more people are going to think I want it and I'm loosing friends left right and centre. On top of that, if I go to a photo shoot then no-one is going to believe I don't want this!''

Flint did not know why, but he felt a stab of pity at this outburst and looked sideways at Potter, noting that the bags under his eyes were really quite huge.

''I do.''

''I know you do. But why do you?''

Flint merely shrugged and kept walking, before saying ''I wouldn't like the attention either.''

Harry nodded but didn't speak.

''It means a lot, Flint.''

''What does?''

Harry had stopped walking and so did Flint, looking down at Harry who was almost a foot shorter and about half as broad as the Slytherin.

''That you believe me. It's just … I … I feel really alone sometimes… there's always someone out to hurt me.'', Harry blurted out, aware that he sounded weak, aware that he was saying this to Marcus Flint of all people and that he had never said this to anyone.

''You've got friends.'', said Flint, looking at the floor.

''One friend'', Harry corrected him, ''Hermione and I don't think she believes me really.'', said Harry, shocking himself when a few tears fell out of his eyes.

''I believe you.'', said Flint again and he did something he would never had dreamed of in his life and put one of his muscular arms around the narrow shoulders of the fourteen year old.

Harry looked up at the touch and said ''yeah''.

The feeling of protection that Marcus felt towards the boy was growing as he held the slightly shivering teen with one strong arm.

Harry looked up into Marcus' dark eyes and said, ''you'll end up hating me as well.''

''Why?''

Harry didn't answer until Flint took his arm from around the boy and moved to face him, looking directly into Harry's eyes.

''Why will I?''

''Loads of people do when they find out I…that I'm…'', Harry stammered, but Flint did not rush him. ''..Gay.'', Harry finished before blushing a deep, boiling red and looking at the ground.

Flint didn't speak for a full 30 seconds and then grunted ''Oh.''

Harry cringed as he looked back up into Flint's impassive face before speaking ''Sorry.'', he almost whispered.

''Why you sorry?'', Flint asked, looking at Harry's face, not at his scar as so many others did.

Harry couldn't answer this and so contented himself with a shrug.

''Kinda guessed.''

Harry looked shocked, ''How?'', he demanded.

It was Flint's turn to look uncomfortable, ''you stare at me.''

Harry blushed so deeply Flint thought he might melt ''Sorry.'', he said again.

''I stare back. Its cool.'', said Flint.

''You…you're...'', stammered Harry.

''Don't know, but I stare at you so maybe.''

Harry was shocked. He had liked the Slytherin since the end of the previous year. He didn't quite know what it was about Flint that had drawn him in except that Flint looked to tall and strong to Harry with his broad chest and shoulders, thick neck and muscular arms.

Harry had supposed that, because there was no real strong figure in his life, he had latched onto someone who didn't stare at his scar, someone quiet and strong and whom Harry found very appealing, even though Flint wasn't the best looking person by any means.

The silence dragged on for a little while longer before Harry said, ''so do you fancy me?''

Flint shrugged, ''don't know.''

''Can I kiss you?''

Flint looked at Harry. He was surprised (though he did not show it), that the boy had asked such a bold question. He shrugged again and Harry took a few steps closer.

Flint's expression did not change and when Harry stood on tiptoe to wind slim arms around his Flint's thick neck, the Slytherin's hands settled almost instinctively on the small waist of the Gryffindor.

Harry seemed to take this as a good sign and raised his head to look at Flint who felt the raven's hot breath on his face.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned in, pressing his lips against Flint's, whose eyes had also closed and who now stood still as a statue.

Harry kissed him twice more before taking a step back and looking up at the Slytherin.

Marcus, though he didn't show it much, had enjoyed the kiss and Harry seemed to take it as such because Flint hadn't beaten seven shades out of him.

''Kiss me again.'', said Harry who hadn't taken his eyes off of Flint's face.

And Flint ,almost without thinking, strode towards Harry and pressed the teen hard against the wall, crushing his lips against Harry's who moaned as his back hit stone and kissed back.

Flint completely dominated the kiss, kissing Harry's lips apart and plundering the hot cavern of the boy's mouth before breaking the kiss and looking down.

Harry was out of breath, his back hurt and his lips were swollen and puffy, but he looked up at Marcus's face and was surprised to see that one of the Slytherin's large hands was still stroking Harry's hair.

''Wow'', said Harry.

Flint did not speak but continued to stroke Harry's hair.

''We've got to go! We're late!'', Harry said, suddenly shocked.

Flint nodded and picked up their bags, passing Harry's to him and they continued walking as though nothing had happened.

When they got to the classroom in which Harry was supposed to have entered 10 minutes previously, he looked at Flint who nodded before walking away.

(*)

Soooo what did you think? I know they moved a little quickly but I'm trying to get along with the plot and I didn't want to spend chapters and chapters getting them together, apart from the fact that Flint is a man of little words anyway so long conversations would have looked contrived. Don't forget to review! X