Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Cheat ❯ Cheat ( One-Shot )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: makishef 
"It was in the way he said your name..." A drabble. Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood. Written Mar 29, 2003.
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance | Type: Vignette | Uploaded On: 01.28.2007 | Updated On: 01.28.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 306 | Visits: 574 | Status: Completed
"It was in the way he said your name..." A drabble. Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood. Written Mar 29, 2003.
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance | Type: Vignette | Uploaded On: 01.28.2007 | Updated On: 01.28.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 306 | Visits: 574 | Status: Completed
All you ever thought about was Quidditch, until he figured out how to change your focus, until he hurtled headlong into you like a bludger into the brush of your broomstick, sending you irreparably off balance.
It was in the way he said your name, you know. The lazy "l" and the cruel, biting "v".
Ol--iv--er.
The syllables would trip off his tongue like a song, and you knew he did it on purpose.
Ol--iv--er.
He spat your name at you, without regard to the silent rule that said one must always, always call one's rival by his surname only. Of course, he was always a cheater.
Ol--iv--er.
You never quite knew how to counter his strange power over you. He was such an ugly creature with his irregular features, his ungainly movements, his nose in the air and no real cunning to back it up; he called you pretty boy and his breath stank with his vile words, his vile being.
Yet something appealed to you; perhaps it was the way he sang your name to you and pulled you into his vicious dance, kept you on the balls of your feet, never quite balanced and always spinning, moving, following his lead and hoping not to step on his feet.
The solution was so simple, but it was one that took you so long to figure out. Suddenly the two of you fought for balance, control, and it was all the more exciting. It was as easy as two short syllables:
Mar--cus.
It was in the way he said your name, you know. The lazy "l" and the cruel, biting "v".
Ol--iv--er.
The syllables would trip off his tongue like a song, and you knew he did it on purpose.
Ol--iv--er.
He spat your name at you, without regard to the silent rule that said one must always, always call one's rival by his surname only. Of course, he was always a cheater.
Ol--iv--er.
You never quite knew how to counter his strange power over you. He was such an ugly creature with his irregular features, his ungainly movements, his nose in the air and no real cunning to back it up; he called you pretty boy and his breath stank with his vile words, his vile being.
Yet something appealed to you; perhaps it was the way he sang your name to you and pulled you into his vicious dance, kept you on the balls of your feet, never quite balanced and always spinning, moving, following his lead and hoping not to step on his feet.
The solution was so simple, but it was one that took you so long to figure out. Suddenly the two of you fought for balance, control, and it was all the more exciting. It was as easy as two short syllables:
Mar--cus.