harrypottersomestuff

[harrypottersomestuff]

Of Gryffindors and Rainy Sundays

Fandom: Harry Potter

Words: 2, 232

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22298461?view_adult=true

It’s a typical rainy, dismal Sunday in April when Marcus Flint wakes up with a truly wicked hangover and Oliver Wood in his bed.

Of course, at first all he’s aware of is the horrible pounding at his temples and the queasy feeling in his gut and the way his veins sort of feel like sandpaper. But as he blinks his way into reluctant wakefulness, he can feel soft sheets against his - entirely - bare skin and the weight of a strong, freckled arm thrown across his chest, and, if he squints, he thinks he can make out a trail of clothing leading from the door to the foot of the bed. He can also smell the faint hint of someone else’s cologne in the air, an appealing, slightly spicy scent that seems vaguely familiar somehow, and beyond that, there are soft little snores drifting up from somewhere on his right. Marcus scowls, feeling his already impressively bad mood sour further. He fucking hates snoring.

He doesn’t think he actually had that much to drink last night – although it’s clear from the vicious pounding in his head that he wasn’t remotely sober – but the combination of a hangover and his general grogginess in the mornings tends to leave him horrifically disoriented when he wakes up after drinking. So he’s sure the pieces of last night will come back to him after a shower and some headache potion and a very strong cup of tea, but for now all he can remember is going to the pub with Terence and Adrian. He thinks Adrian might have been called back to work, and given his level of nausea he’s pretty sure there must have been shots, and for some reason he thinks he can remember a Puddlemere Chant? And…

Holy shit.

He’s pretty sure he can remember sitting and having drinks with the entire Puddlemere team last night, doing Quidditch-themed shots and earnestly telling Viktor Krum that he’s a big fan and chatting amicably for hours with Oliver fucking Wood. The rest of the night is as hazy as ever, but Marcus feels the first tendrils of anxiety unfurl in his stomach, because going from drinking with other players to waking up with a man in his bed does not bode well at all for someone who has always kept work and pleasure separate.

So as much as he desperately wants to go back to sleep for the next six hours or so, he also really wants to figure out what the fuck happened, not to mention get some water and dislodge whatever idiotic stranger has had the audacity to snuggle him in his sleep. He’s reaching up to unceremoniously remove the admittedly well-muscled arm from his chest when he sees something that makes his stomach clench with an uncharacteristic sense of panic.

The man is wearing a ring. Not a wedding ring - which Marcus would never have been stupid enough to let happen, because there is nothing less discreet than a wronged, vengeful wife - but something much, much worse. There, on the middle finger of the man’s right hand, sits a large Hogwarts signet ring. For Gryffindor.

Jesus Christ. Marcus briefly wonders if he can trust his absolutely rubbish Charm work enough to try Obliviating himself, but unless he wants to risk ending up roommates with Lockhart in the Janus Thickey Ward, he thinks he’s shit out of luck.

Because the problem is, while he’s seen the gaudy, stupid class rings on several Hogwarts grads over the years, there’s one person in particular he remembers wearing this one. Specifically on the middle finger of his right hand, for luck in each Quidditch match.

He really, really doesn’t want to roll over and find out if he was just as colossally stupid last night as he suspects, but he also doesn’t want to spend any longer silently panicking in his bed in the arms of a Gryffindor. So he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment, and shifts to the right.

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I myself just think that they're like best friends for ever cause even Draco was a total bitch to Hermione they have gotten over that and became the ones who know the stuff and Ron and Harry still wouldn't know anything. #drarry and #heron.

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