Chapter 23
Oliver drew his wand and pointed it at Flint. “Why would I want your help? You got me injured and as far as I can tell you don’t even like me! For no reason! So leave now, and I won’t curse you.”
Flint sighed and looked away from him. “I don’t hate you…I’m jealous of you. I’ve never seen someone work as hard as I do and be better than me. I thought I wanted to win badly, but then I saw you sneaking out here all the time and thought: There’s someone who wants to win. It was…annoyingly inspiring.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow at him, still not lowering his wand. “So your brilliant plan was to hurt me and get yourself kicked off the team for the rest of the season? I’m failing to see the logic there.”
Flint sighed, looking embarrassed. “So, okay yes I wanted to injure you because I figured you would be out for the season, not me. I made a…miscalculation I guess,” Flint shrugged.
Oliver stared at him, mouth agape in rage and shock. “So you almost killed me because you didn’t want to try and win fair and square?! What kind of person does that?!”
“A…determined one?” Flint said hesitantly.
Oliver laughed, he was almost doubled over with laughter. He wasn’t sure why he was laughing of all things, it wasn’t funny. If anything, he was strangely impressed. Flint was apparently willing to go to some extreme lengths to try and win.
‘I bet mom would love to have him as a son,’ the voice in his head whispered, making Oliver’s laughter finally cease.
“If you haven’t gone totally mental Wood, my offer still stands. Just because I’m off the team doesn’t mean I can’t fly a broom or throw a Quaffle.” Flint grinned at him.
Oliver wasn’t sure what possessed him to think this, but he agreed with Flint. It would be easier to practice with a Chaser and not just a spelled Quaffle. “Fine, you can help me practice. No wand for you though, leave it in the locker room.”
Flint glared at him for a moment. “Really, Wood? You don’t trust me?”
Oliver snorted and rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t. I’m not that stupid. So, either you leave your wand elsewhere or I’m leaving the pitch and going back to the castle. I don’t need your help.”
“Fine,” Flint grumbled before turning and heading back to the changing room.
Oliver stared after his retreating form, surprised that he was actually agreeing. He was hard to miss, dark green robe and dark hair sticking out like a sore thumb in the winter landscape. “What is he up to?” Oliver muttered to himself.
There had to be some ulterior motive. He wasn’t sure he was buying Flint’s whole ‘I admire your dedication’ act. Still, Oliver wasn’t going to let him get away with anything if he did have something planned.
“Alright, Wood, I’m wandless. Can we get started now?” Flint asked, as he walked back up the pitch towards Oliver.
Oliver snorted, “Don’t be offended if I don’t trust you. Expelliarmus!” Oliver possibly didn’t regret it as much as he should’ve.
Flint was hit by the red jet of light and fell flat on his back. No wand came flying back at Oliver. “Alright, now we can practice,” Oliver said, grinning as Flint sat up.
“Are you mad?!” Flint stood, fury in his eyes.
Oliver shrugged, “Consider it payback for hitting me in the head with a Bludger. Besides, now I know you really don’t have your wand on you. Get your broom, we’re doing this.”
Flint glared at him, but obliged nonetheless. Oliver flew ahead of him to float in front of the goal posts. It was certainly going to be an interesting practice.
~~~//~~~
“You’re a little too good, Wood,” Flint commented as they landed back on the pitch. Their time was up, and Oliver had promised Madam Hooch he’d return after only an hour.
Oliver huffed, “You scored on me a few times Flint, so there’s still room for improvement.”
Flint raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, you sound like my dad. He’s always telling me I can do better, even if I do everything right.”
Oliver tensed, avoiding Flint’s gaze. “I’m…sorry to hear that. Sounds like he can be a little tough.”
Why was Oliver talking to him like they were friends? Was this what Oliver was going to have to resort to for company this holiday break? Trying to be friends with Marcus Flint? The Slytherin who had injured him? All because they both had shitty parents?
Now…
“Actually, if I may interrupt, that isn’t as uncommon as you think, Oliver. You can often look for friendship or solace in someone who has experienced something similar to your own trauma.” His therapist said calmly.
Oliver stared back at his therapist. “That…is a little scary.”
His therapist nodded. “Continue, please, I’d like to see if that was the case.”
Then…
Flint rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, dad just likes to push me to be great at things. It’s why I try to win so much. I want to play professional Quidditch when I’m older.”
Oliver tried not to show how surprised he was. Oliver wanted to play when he was done at Hogwarts too. “Does…your father support that dream too?”
Flint laughed harshly. “No, he’d rather I do something more practical like work at the Ministry or Gringotts.”
“My mom’s always wanted me to play Quidditch,” Oliver said, surprising himself that he was sharing the information.
“Yeah? That doesn’t really sound like something you want though, Wood.” Flint commented, raising an eyebrow at him.
Oliver was shocked to see how green Flint’s eyes were. They matched the emerald robes he wore perfectly. It was unnerving. “I do want that. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
They had reached the locker rooms now and they paused outside the door.
Flint paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. “You say that, but I think you haven’t allowed yourself to want anything else. Did you ever think that?”
Oliver watched, dumbfounded, as Flint entered the locker room. Oliver let the door shut behind him, wondering how someone he barely knew could see him so clearly.
“This is going to be a long break,” He muttered to himself, before heading into the locker room after Flint.