Funnily enough it was through Quidditch that Marcus Flint had met Hermione Granger. And it wasn’t a friendly meeting either. The two of them had bumped into each other after Marcus’ match and instead of apologising like Hermione had wanted him to, Marcus simply moved shuffling past her, his mind still in a haze after his big win.
Their second meeting is when Marcus found himself intrigued by the smaller witch. She wasn’t like the other witches who threw themselves at him simply because of his achievements in the game he played. She was different and he quite liked that.
Hermione had chided him for not apologising after bumping into her at his last game, sheepishly, Marcus had apologised and asked to buy her lunch to make up for it.
Soon enough, they went from having lunch together to having dinner together to spending whole days together, to spending whole nights together.
Marcus even introduced her to his only sister, the only family he had left. Something which he had not done with any other witch.
He couldn’t remember a moment in which he was happier than he was then, it had taken him only two months to realise he was completely devoted to Hermione Granger.
Everything about her, he loved. Be that her mind or her beauty, everything about her was flawless in his eyes. He had raised her on such a pedestal that no other woman could compete against her even if they had been blessed by the gods themselves.
Like any other couple they argued but by the end of it they’d be in each others embrace. Had you asked anyone who knew them they would’ve told you that Marcus and Hermione had a relationship like no other. Their love knew no bounds.
Perhaps that is why it was such a surprise to see Hermione’s name sprawled alongside Ron Weasleys across every news article in Great Britain.
What a scandal it had been.
Hermione Granger, member of the Golden Trio, recipient of the Order of Merlin First Class, had betrayed Marcus Flint, Quidditch superstar and of-course (who could forget) the son of a death eater.
Ironic how it had been Hermione who betrayed Marcus, and not the other way around. After all it was Marcus who had been in Slytherin, it was Marcus who had a death eater for a father, it was Marcus who had an affinity for the Dark Arts.
And yet it was her who had crushed him.
What a fool he had been.
A fool in love.
It shouldn’t have been shocking, she was too good for him, Marcus always knew that he wasn’t enough, but he had hoped against hope that maybe she was for him, maybe they would work, maybe she would love him as much as he loved her.
He should’ve known that hope was for the hopeless. And Marcus was nothing but hopeless.
In his desperation to be loved not for his fame but for his character, he has made the biggest mistake of his life. He had fallen for Hermione Granger, a woman whose mind, he knew, belonged to another. She was never his, Marcus knew that. So why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like he was being cursed by the Dark Lord? Like Merlin himself had come to stamp on his heart and his very being?
Marcus hadn’t ever felt an agony like the one of this. He couldn’t remember it hurting this much when he had lost his mother? Surely he was losing his mind.
It felt like he was drowning, as though he needed to claw at his throat in order to breathe, as though his insides were on fire and that every tear was blood. It felt like his very soul was being ripped from his body. He could hear the thumping of his heart as it broke.
Seeing the photos of her with Ronald Weasley left him raging, and once his anger had deflated, it left him in agony.
Hermione had tried to apologise, she had tried to talk to him. She had even tried blaming him. She would make him the devil, so she could forget her own sins. Every time Marcus looked at her, he would picture her with Ron.
Unwanted thoughts would creep in whilst she talked, trying to explain herself. Marcus couldn’t help but wonder if they laughed about him when they were together? Did they mock him for being so unaware? Did they find humour in his blind trust?
What did Ron have that he didn’t?
Marcus gave her all he had, and when that wasn’t enough he gave her his heart. What was he supposed to do now with his missing heart?
His sister tried to comfort him, but what could she have done to console someone who had lost himself to love?
Every night was spent in bitter anguish, Marcus couldn’t help but think that whoever had said that the nights of the lonely are spent in tears were truly correct in their assumption. What was the point of life if it no longer had any purpose?
And that’s when they found him, at night with his eyes closed, cheeks stained, lips chapped, knuckles dry with blood. Laying in bed, not breathing.
It would be a year after his death in which Hermione would realise what she had lost. Even during her failed attempt at love with Ronald Weasley she knew she had made a mistake betraying the only man who had truly loved her.