Entry tags:

*fic, 2011, katie, marcus

Special delivery for and_vine
Title: Bloody Gryffindors.
Author:
Recipient's LJ name: and_vine
Pairing(s): Marcus/Katie
Rating: R
Summary Katie agrees to take Marcus as her date to Oliver's Gryffindor-themed wedding.
Word Count: 4,138
Warnings/Content: none
Author's/Artist's notes: All of the Muggle locations mentioned are real. Sadly, I haven't had the pleasure of visiting them myself, but they look lovely from the images on the website. Many thanks to my beta, R. and_vine, I really enjoyed writing this for you. I hope you enjoy it as well!

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Wilhem & Ashforth Fine China, Diagon Alley, London, England


Katie consulted her parchment again. Surely that couldn't be right. But there it was in large black script:

Oliver and Leanne's china pattern is Godric's Garden.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," a voice muttered from behind her. Katie nodded, staring at the collection of white dishes with lions frolicking on the wide gold border. Marcus Flint moved so he was standing beside her. "I am not purchasing that crap."

"It's on the list," Katie said weakly. "It's what they want."

"Is this Wood's fault or that dotty mate of yours?" He replied accusingly. "I mean look at this: gravy bowls, dessert plates, fruit saucers. What the hell is a fruit saucer? And don't even get me started on their cutlery. Fork, knife and spoon. That's all you need," he grumbled.

"I think they decided on the pattern together," Katie said, "although Oliver didn't seem as enthusiastic about it as Leanne. Why don't you just buy him something from the Quality Quidditch Supplies section?" She suggested, pointing it out on his parchment.

"Please, Bell. I'm not buying Quidditch gear for Wood. Especially not good gear," he scoffed. "Although he'd need a lot more than good gear to beat my Falcons. You really should join us, you know," he added, giving her a calculating look.

Katie rolled her eyes and picked up a large platter. "I'm still not interested," she said.

"You're wasted at the Arrows," he grumbled, "utterly wasted. Besides, you'll never make it onto the national team unless you start playing for a better league team."

"Yeah, and who picks the national team? Oh, that's right; you do, Captain," she replied, a bit testily. "If you really wanted me on the team, you'd put me on it."

He frowned down at her and Katie resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Look, it's flattering that you've been trying to recruit me, all right? But I'm happy with the Arrows. We've got a great team dynamic, the fans are wonderful and Appleby is a lovely town. Maybe I'll never win a league title or make it onto the national team or make thousands of Galleons. But I can say that I'd be happy to play with the Arrows until I retire," Katie said.

Marcus raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. "Sorry. Won't mention it again." He hesitated. "Listen, do you have a date to the wedding?"

"No; I didn't really think I needed one as I'm in the wedding party and all," Katie said, moving over to table linens. Predictably, Oliver and Leanne had selected burgundy and gold. She wondered if it would be possible to mention that one could display house pride in a less tacky way.

"Well, why don't you and I go together?" Marcus suggested. When Katie gave him a look he sighed. "Romilda's been angling to rekindle things and I'd appreciate a buffer, alright?"

Katie laughed. Romilda Vane was a notorious broom bunny determined to land herself a Quidditch star for a husband. Flint had shagged her in a moment of drunken weakness several years back. At the time, he'd only been a second tier Chaser. Now that he was Captain of the Falcons and the national team, of course, he was a much more appetizing target. "All right, I'll go with you. But you're paying for any spell damage she causes."

"Deal," Marcus said with an expression of great relief. Until he saw the diamond-encrusted lion-shaped napkin holders. "Oh for fuck's sake. Doesn't he have any sense of dignity?"


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Llansantffraed Court, Monmouthshire, Wales


Katie examined herself critically in the hotel room mirror. She was very appreciative of the fact that Leanne and Oliver had decided on a Muggle-style wedding. Merlin knows what horrible Gryffindor-themed atrocity they could have come up with if they'd had access to dress robes. As it was, she was wearing a pretty strapless burgundy cocktail dress and matching court shoes. Her hair had been spelled into an updo with small burgundy roses tucked into it. She'd never be drop-dead gorgeous and her tall, lanky frame was better suited to her Quidditch uniform than to formal wear, but she thought she'd cleaned up nicely.

There was a knock at the door and she grabbed her handbag before opening it. Marcus began to speak and then stopped. And stared at her. And she stared right back.

Marcus Flint wasn't traditionally good-looking but he'd grown into his craggy features with age and the wear and tear of Quidditch. The addition of a professional athlete's physique and his natural charisma made him consistently top the Witch Weekly's Eligible Bachelor list. Katie hadn't ever seen the appeal before, but she was beginning to come around. He was wearing a black Muggle suit that had been expertly tailored. His dark brown hair was neat and his face lacked its usual complement of Bludger bruises and scrapes. She grinned when she saw he was wearing an emerald green tie with a thin silver stripe running through it. "Nice tie," she said, realizing they'd been gawking at each other in silence. "You look good."

"You look good, too," he said, and she noticed he was having a hard time keeping his eyes on his face. She stifled a laugh and he looked up, reddening when he realized he'd been caught. "I'm sorry, okay? It's just, I've never seen them before. You're always in robes," he said defensively. As she turned to lock the door, he added, "You could wear stuff like this more often, you know. They're nice tits."

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"I feel like my balls are in a vice grip," Marcus muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "How do Muggles stand these things?"

Katie stepped on his foot and turned back to listen to the speeches. She was thankful that Leanne had chosen her younger sister to be the Maid of Honour. Katie was pants at public speaking. Sarah, who was wearing a gold cocktail dress, was doing a much better job than Katie would have. Katie caught Oliver's eye and he smiled dreamily at her before glaring pointedly at Marcus. Katie sighed and shrugged. Marcus hadn't been a bad date, although he did keep staring at her breasts. At least he hadn't tried to fondle someone else's date during the pudding course. Alicia was still giving Lee the cold shoulder.

"Thank Merlin," Marcus groaned when the speeches were finished. "I'm going to grab Higgens and find a loo."

Katie raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, come on, it's not gay stuff," Marcus said, "Higgens is Muggle-born. I'm thinking maybe he knows how to charm these blasted things so I'll still be able to father sons. Get your mind out of the gutter, Bell."

Marcus had only been gone a few moments before the band took to the stage. Katie recognized the singer from a Muggle publication she'd seen earlier in the week and was surprised that Leanne'd been able to book them. But when she took a good look at what the singer was wearing — a sheer summer robe over a pink ballet leotard with wooly socks and hiking boots — she grinned to herself. "Total Witch," she murmured. Muggles probably thought she was an eccentric artist. The singer began to sing very softly and Katie watched as Leanne and Oliver took to the floor for their first dance.

After they finished their dance to cat calls and wolf whistles from Oliver's teammate, she grabbed Charlie Weasley, her designated attendant, and dragged him onto the floor for the wedding party's dance. After a very energetic swing dance, Bill took up her hand for a sensual tango that had her clit throbbing. She looked over at Fleur who smirked like the cat who'd got the cream. Before she had a chance to catch her breath and calm her racing heart, she was swept up into a precise fox trot with Percy, a ridiculous chicken dance with George, and an awkward waltz with Ron who proceeded to drop her on her head.

After Hermione had patched her up — "Honestly, Ronald, waltzes don't even have dips!" — Katie went back to her table, gently refusing offers from Neville, Harry and Lee to dance. When Marcus sat down next to her, she realized she hadn't seen him in over an hour. She winced. "Sorry. I've been neglecting you," she said, sliding her aching feet out of her court shoes. "Did Romilda get to you?"

"Oh yes," Marcus said with a sigh. He signaled to the waiter and asked for a double Firewhisky, neat and a Bailey's on the rocks. Katie was surprised that he knew what she liked to drink and tried to remember if they'd been out for drinks before. "She cornered me as I was coming out of the loo," he continued after they'd gotten their drinks, "tried to give me a hand job through my trousers." He made a face.

"Merlin. I'm really sorry," Katie apologized again, feeling terribly guilty.

"It's alright. I just told her I was madly in love with you," he said with a cheeky grin. "I very much hope you weren't planning on going home with someone else. The Prophet will have you painted as a heartbreaker by noon tomorrow."

"Bastard," Katie muttered without any venom. "You're lucky Bill Weasley is married. That man can dance," she added with a longing sigh.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping their drinks and watching George shimmy dramatically around his niece Victoire while she giggled uncontrollably.

"I think Oliver asked the Weasley boys to tie you up," Marcus murmured, his arm dropping around her shoulders casually. He began to stroke her skin with his thumb. Katie shivered. "Look at him," he said, leaning towards her in a conspiratorial fashion, "he's positively apoplectic."

Katie glanced over to where Oliver stood with Percy. Indeed, his face was red and he was glaring daggers at Marcus. "But he invited you," she said, puzzled.

"Not to come with you. I believe our Mr. Wood thinks I will sully you," he replied lazily, taking a long sip of his Firewhisky.

Katie scowled. "Bloody overprotective Gryffindors," she grumbled, shooting Oliver a decidedly unfriendly two-fingered salute. "If this wasn't my best mate's wedding, I'd call it a night."

Marcus grinned at her and then got to his feet. "Come on," he said, tugging on her hand. "Let's get out of here."

"I just said—"

"We'll come back," he promised. "You need a break from all the ginger."


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St Bridget's Church, Monmouthshire, Wales


"Isn't it sort of sacrilegious to be doing this outside of a Church?" Katie asked, looking around doubtfully. St Bridget's was still decorated with the gold and cranberry ribbons from the ceremony earlier in the day. Coupled with the thick layer of snow on the roof, it strongly resembled a gingerbread house.

"It's just flying, Bell, not human sacrifice," Marcus said, rolling his eyes. He stopped beside her on his beautiful Firebolt Victory Edition and she gazed at the broom with undisguised longing. "Do you want to ride it?" He asked with a sigh.

"Pretty please," she replied eagerly, moving to slide off her broom.

To her surprise, Marcus held up a hand to stop her before hopping off his broom, picking her up and then gently setting her down on his broom. "The snow," he said, pointing at her court shoes.

"Thanks," Katie said, a little dazed. She hadn't felt like this since Prajapati Patil had given her his cloak after the Battle of Hogwarts. She'd ended up dating the Healer for four years. She took a deep breath, willing herself to get a grip. Marcus was not long-term relationship material. He was more 'married to the broom' than she was, for Merlin's sake.

She shook herself and leaned forward, accelerating gently. The skirt of her dress was hiked up a bit so she could straddle the broom properly and she was certain Marcus was getting more than an eyeful of thigh, but she was too excited to care. He hopped onto her Nimbus 3000 and rose up to meet her. "So, do you want to put it through its paces?"

Katie shook her head, grinning from ear to ear. "I just want to fly," she said.

"Let's fly, then," he replied with a matching grin. And then he took off in a blur.

The FVE was a wonderful broom. She felt like it was responding to her thoughts rather than to her movement. It was as if they were one single organism.

An hour later, she finally floated down next to the church where Marcus was waiting. She was freezing cold and her hair was a mess but she couldn't stop beaming at him. "It's perfect. It's really the most perfect broom," she gushed, stroking it fondly.

"Uh oh," Marcus said, "you'd best be dismounting, Bell. You can't keep Broomhilda."

"Broomhilda?" Katie giggled. "You named your broom Broomhilda?"

"I name all my brooms," he said, his cheeks becoming pink. He reached over and grabbed Broomhilda and began to tow Katie back towards Llansantffraed Court. "Come on, Bell, if we don't get back soon, Wood'll send out a search party."

"Thanks Marcus," She said after a few moments. "You were right. I really needed that."

"I'm always right," he replied with a cheeky grin.


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Llansantffraed Court, Monmouthshire, Wales


"Merlin, Katie! Where have you been?" Oliver hurried over as they walked back into the reception hall. Marcus had leant her his jacket and this, combined with her messy hair, flushed cheeks and Marcus' equally messy hair and flushed cheeks led Oliver to entirely the wrong conclusion. "Flint!" He roared.

"Fuck," Katie muttered. "We were flying, Ollie. Flying. He let me try his Firebolt Victory Edition," she explained, putting a calming hand on Oliver's chest.

"He let you ride Broomhilda?" Oliver asked, glaring at Marcus. "He...I...Never!"

"Merlin, please tell me you are not jealous of a broomstick," Katie moaned. "Ollie, it's your wedding night. Go find your bride and shag her senseless. Make lots of little Wood babies." She ignored Marcus' sniggers and waved frantically at Leanne to come claim her husband.

Leanne walked over, looked between Oliver and Marcus and sighed. "Fucking Quidditch," she said, giving Katie a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Come on, baby, let's go upstairs," she said to Oliver, taking him by the hand.

"She's sorta perfect for him," Marcus observed as they watched the bride and groom take their leave of the other guests. "He needs a good steering hand."

"They do work well together," Katie agreed. The band launched into a song she recognized from the Wireless. "I think I owe you a dance, Captain," she said, holding out her hand.

"I think you do," Marcus replied, following her onto the dance floor. His hands rested on her waist as they began to move together. "I quite like the thought of you calling me 'Captain' more often."

"That's your kink?" Katie wrinkled her nose. She tried not to judge, but well, the image of Marcus as a jaunty sea captain was anything but sexy.

"No. I mean, if you were on my team," he murmured. With her court shoes, there wasn't a large height difference between them and Katie could have sworn he'd brushed his lips against her ear.

"We talked about this already." she said, becoming more conscious of how her hips brushed against his every few beats. But she didn't alter her movements.

"I tried to buy your contract," he said, his hands sliding down to her arse. "Offered Wilkes a fortune for you, but he refused."

Katie stopped dancing and stared up at him in shock. "Okay, first of all, do not touch my arse when you're talking about buying me," she snapped, moving his hands away. "And secondly, I've told you I don't want to move. Having you go behind my back to try and buy my contract isn't going to make me think better of you. Thirdly, this isn't fucking sexy, Flint. You've just talked yourself out of my bed."

"I didn't realize I was ever in it," he said, taken aback.

"Well, now you never will be," she replied. "Thanks for the broom ride. See you later." She went over to their table and grabbed her handbag, heading for the lifts. She was buzzing with anger and—she was loathe to admit it—lust. She realized that she would have slept with him quite eagerly if he hadn't started in on her joining the Falcons again.

As the lift arrived, so did Marcus. "Katie, let me see you up to your room," he said, slightly out of breath. "Please."

She sighed and then nodded and they both got in the lift.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You should be," she retorted.

"Well, I am. Truly," he said earnestly. She looked over at him and then looked away.

When the lift opened at her floor, she stepped out ahead of him and walked to the door of her room. She hesitated and finally courtesy won over. "Do you want to come for tea?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said.

He sat in one of the armchairs and watched as she fiddled with the teapot. "Sorry, it might taste a bit off," she apologized in advance. "I'm not used to doing this the Muggle way." She set down the teapot with two mugs on the tiny table, along with a small package of biscuits she'd found.

"It's fine," he said. "Look, I feel like I need to explain myself."

"I really don't think you should," she said.

"Can I try?" He asked. She nodded. "I find you incredibly frustrating, Bell. You're one of the best Chasers in the league and yet you languish on a team that's mediocre at best. You could be the best in England. You could be one of the best in the world. But you're not being tested. You're not driven. I know you say you're happy and maybe you are, but it makes me so angry to see all your talent wasted. When I saw you fly on Broomhilda"—Katie snickered and he glared at her—"it was beautiful. You are beautiful in the air, Katie," he said, brushing a stray lock of hair back from her face.

She sat for a moment, thinking about the face that he'd called her Katie for the first time, that he, the captain of the national team thought she was one of the best Chasers in the league. She opened her mouth to say that she was still happy with the Arrows. "I don't sleep with teammates," came out instead and she flushed.

"Good thing we aren't teammates, then," he said with a grin before sipping his tea.

"I have to admit, I've never really taken what you said seriously," she replied slowly, "about me switching teams. It was just nice to hear. I didn't really think you meant it."

"I never lie about Quidditch," he said seriously.

"I understand, but I also don't appreciate you trying to force me off my team," she added firmly.

"Sorry. That wasn't my finest moment," he admitted sheepishly.

Katie finished her tea and then stood. "I don't think we should talk about Quidditch anymore."

"Right," Marcus said. He put his teacup down. "I guess I'll see you at brunch tomorrow?"

Katie shook her head. "That wasn't your cue to leave," she murmured, gently tugging on his tie.

"Have I managed to talk my way back into your bed then?" he asked with a grin, letting her pull him towards her.

"You're getting there," she replied.


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Phoenix Hall, Albus Dumbledore Memorial Centre, Diagon Alley, London, England


"This isn't very subtle," Katie murmured as Marcus kissed his way down her neck. They hadn't even made it through the main course of the Quidditch league's annual end-of-season awards ceremony before he'd dragged her out of the ballroom and down countless hallways until he found a corridor 'deserted enough'. "I thought we were keeping a low profile."

"You can't possibly expect me to keep my hands off you in this dress," he replied, his hands running down her back and over her arse in a fluid motion. "Now I just have to figure out how to get you out of it without ripping it. How the fuck did you get into this thing anyway?" He asked, tugging the hem up.

"There's a zip at the side, under my right arm," Katie said, fumbling with his dress robes. He slid his hands up her body, pausing to rub his thumbs over her nipples, which were hardening visibly under the fabric. She groaned and turned her head to kiss him.

"You're incredible," Marcus said earnestly. "I think—"

"Shut up and get me out of my dress," Katie hissed. "Someone will come looking for us soon." She'd succeeded in her fumblings and opened his robes, her palm rubbing against the front of his pants.

Marcus grunted and then reached around her awkwardly to unzip the dress. "Why won't you ever let me be romantic?" he complained as he pulled the dress down her body.

"Because when you're trying to be romantic, it's when we're shagging in alleyways or office bathrooms," Katie said, biting back a loud moan when he pushed her bra aside and began teasing a nipple with his tongue. "You can be romantic or we can have sex. There's not enough time for both."

"Fine," he grumbled before switching to the other nipple. Katie pushed her dress down her hips and then kicked it to the side, praying no one thought to come down this corridor. Marcus slid his hand into her knickers, rubbing his thumb over her clit while slipping two fingers inside her. She moaned loudly and then clamped her hand over her mouth. He kissed his way back up to her neck. "Are you almost ready because I'm about to come in my pants here."

"Merlin, yes," Katie gasped through her hand as he twisted his fingers. He slid his pants down and then slid her knickers off. "Gimme your legs," he grunted and she wrapped her legs around his hips as he guided his cock inside her. Her back slammed against the wall as he began to thrust harder and harder. Katie's hand fell away from her mouth and joined her other hand on his back, holding on for dear life. She could tell he was close, but she wasn't quite there yet.

"Need more," she managed to get out. Marcus braced her body with one hand and moved the other to her clit, stroking it relentlessly. She came with a toe-curling moan of appreciation. He increased the frequency of his thrusts and as he reached his own orgasm, he whispered her name against her neck like he was reciting a spell.

After a few moments, Katie slowly slid herself off of Marcus. He grabbed his wand from the special pocket in his robe and cleaned them both up before pulling his pants back on. Likewise, she pulled her knickers up and pushed her bra back down, then squeezed back into the dress. She turned around and Marcus zipped her back up, pausing to press a kiss to her neck.

"How do I look?" She asked, running her hand through her hair.

"Like you've just been shagged," he replied, buttoning up his robes. "Let me fix your hair." He pointed his wand at her head and within seconds, her hair had arranged itself into loose, shiny curls.

"That's incredible," Katie said, staring down at the curls on her shoulder. "Where did you learn that?"

"My mother taught me so I could 'freshen' her up when she'd had too many potions," he said with a sad smile. He rarely talked about his childhood or his family, but Katie had the impression that the Flint household had not been a good place to grow up. "It wears off in a few hours."

"Thank you." She put her arms around his neck and gave him a long, deep kiss. "Now, let's go pretend we're mildly indifferent to one another."

"Sounds fabulous," he murmured.