Chapter 24
During that Christmas break, Marcus Flint was added to the list of things Oliver should deal with. Naturally, he continued to avoid dealing with any of those things. He could have asked McGonagall or Sprout about his father, he could’ve thought about Charlie and how he needed to move on from the idea of ever being more than his friend, or even his mother and her radio silence.
Instead, Marcus Flint proved to be an easy distraction from all of those things. “Where are we going?” He asked Flint, as the two of them wandered the nearly empty corridors after dinner.
Flint shrugged, continuing to lead the way down the corridor. “Library I guess? It’s too dark for Quidditch practice so don’t even suggest it, Wood.”
Oliver rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t going to, I’m not that crazy.”
Flint laughed, turning to look at Oliver, green eyes sparkling mischievously. “You’re not that hard to read, you know. When you’re not doing homework or spending time with those idiot Weasley’s you’re thinking about Quidditch and practicing Quidditch.”
“Don’t talk about my friends that way,” Oliver said, not adding that Flint had a point.
Flint rolled his eyes as they entered the library, “I still don’t understand how you’re friends with them.”
Oliver nodded at Madam Pince, who sat behind her desk reading a novel. “What? I should be friends with someone like you instead?”
Flint put a hand over his heart mockingly, turning to face Oliver as he led the way down an aisle of books. “Are we not friends already, Wood? You wound me.”
Oliver laughed, “Was I supposed to get you a Christmas present then? After we’ve been friends for all of three days?”
Flint laughed, “I got you something obviously so yes, you should’ve.”
Oliver blinked at him in surprise, as Flint turned to scan the shelves. “Really? I would’ve gotten you something if I’d known.”
Flint laughed as he pulled a book off the shelf. “Relax Wood, I’m kidding. You’re not around sarcasm a lot are you?”
Oliver sighed, “No, not really, my mother’s verbal abuse is more direct than that.”
Flint closed the book abruptly, eyeing wood curiously. “It could be worse, my dad prefers to use his wand and his hands instead of his words.”
Oliver and Flint were silent for a moment, eyeing each other like they were deciding whose parents were worse. “My mom does all of the above, but still Flint I’m sorry about your dad. Doesn’t your mom do anything about it?”
Flint continued down the aisle, returning his gaze to the shelves. “Remind me Wood, you’re what? A half-blood?”
Oliver stiffened, glaring at Flint. “As far as I know I’m at least that, yes. Possibly pureblood, why does that matter?”
Flint looked at him over yet another book. “I don’t mean what you think I mean, I couldn’t give a shit about blood status like my father and some of his other…friends. In a pureblood household, there are certain things you do and do not discuss. Things you pretend aren’t happening. My mother turns a blind eye to my father’s abuse, among other things. It’s easier than trying to do something about it.”
Oliver just stared at him for a moment. “That is….I’m so sorry Flint.”
Flint just shrugged, “I’m guessing your dad isn't in the picture then? Since you don’t know if he was a muggleborn or not? Do you ever see him or did he run off from your crazy mom right away?”
Oliver raised an eyebrow at Flint’s bluntness. “My mom’s not crazy. But, yeah I never knew him, I don’t even know if he’s dead or alive or what. All I know is his name and some stupid award he won while he was at school.”
Flint looked up at him, before snapping the book he was holding, closed. “I didn’t think someone could be more screwed up than me. That’s pretty shitty Wood. Why not just ask your mom about him?”
Oliver smiled at him, “She’s crazy, remember?”
Flint laughed, “Right yes, I did forget that detail. Just make sure you don’t forget it either. She’s your mom but she doesn’t deserve your defense.”
Oliver wondered when he became such an easy person to read. This wasn’t the first time he had heard this. His friends were always worrying about him, and wanted him to stand up to his mother more but he just…couldn’t. She was still his mom. She still loved him.
Right?
Oliver brought himself back to reality, ignoring the intrusive thoughts. “What exactly are you looking for in here?”
Flint looked up from the newest book he had grabbed. “Defensive spells. For the next time I have to go home and see my family. We’re halfway through the school year practically. Have to make sure I’m prepared.”
“Just one problem with that plan, Flint, you can’t do magic outside of school.”
Flint grinned at him proudly. “Exactly. But, if I do, then the ministry will send a letter. Or even better, a wizard or witch will come directly to the house. Then they would want to wonder why I had to use a defensive spell, and my father wouldn’t like that. He prides himself on the image he and by extension, the family project to the wizarding world. I bet his pals at the ministry wouldn’t love to know that he abuses his son.”
Oliver stared at him, jaw agape. “You wouldn’t actually do it, would you? You could get expelled!”
Flint rolled his eyes at him, green eyes bright and shining. “Oh please, the old softie Dumbledore would take pity on me. Even a lowly Slytherin such as myself. I bet he’d even ship me off somewhere safe. Besides, if I raise my wand at my dad I think he’d be surprised enough to not risk it. He knows how I can be.”
Oliver silently wondered what else Marcus Flint was capable of. What secrets he was hiding. Flint was becoming a new mystery for Oliver to untangle, just like the mystery of his father.