we can burn brighter than the sun

Marcus Flint. 25. Dragon-handler. "There are stars in your dark side brighter than the sun." — Andrea Gibson.

[a-quiet-green-agreement]

I think of you often. I think of you often, and I remember.

– Ahdaf Soueif, from “I Think of You,” I Think of You: Stories (Anchor Books, 2007)

[deviika]

—H.G. Wells, The Time Machine

[newtcnscamandcr]

harry potter meme: six spells, magical creatures, potions and/or objects ⟼ thestrals [3/6]

[marcusflvnt]

Shit Slytherins Say: #76

I think my problem is that I have really fantastic bad ideas.

[marcusflvnt]

[whithered-and-dead]

A world alone // lorde

[flawedlouise]

[slytherinquotes]

I’m almost never serious, and I’m always too serious. Too deep, too shallow. Too sensitive, too cold hearted. I’m like a collection of paradoxes.

— Ferdinand de Saussure (submission by sher-lock-combs)

[himmat]

make me choose:  @ms-porpentina​ asked potions or care of magical creatures

[antigonick]

I am made and remade continually. Different people draw different worlds from me.

Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via antigonick)

[ginevraparkinson]

moodboard // marcus flint (harry potter)

[marcusflvnt]

draco:

@marcusflvnt a closed starter.     A day had a good shot at becoming a good day when football was involved, and today that was exactly the case. Today the football team had planned a friendly match against a team nearby, but friendly only got so far when your captain was the most competitive person you had ever met. Needless to say, but after ninety minutes his voice was hoarse from instructing the others. As the central and most defending midfielder he had the best overview over the other midfielders and the strikers and even if this was just a friendly game, he didn’t like losing. It was a good thing they didn’t lose.   When he first walked onto the field, he had spotted a familiar face amongst those of the other team. When Marcus caught his gaze, he simply winked at the other before continuing his walk and catching a ball someone kicked in his direction as though he didn’t just flirt with a rival. Marcus didn’t play, which was good, because Draco wouldn’t have a chance to get distracted that way. After winning and showering the team was on their way to get something to eat when Draco saw Marcus outside. He told them that he’d be right back before walking back into the direction of the field.   Blonde hair still damp from the shower, having changed into light blue jeans and a black shirt and sports bag slung over his left shoulder carelessly, Draco approached the other just as someone else that had been talking to him left. “Hey,” he greeted as he stood still, voice still a little hoarse. “Fancy seeing you somewhere else for a change. At least I won’t have to ask so, do you like football? when I’m trying to make small talk.” The grin on his face betrayed that he was in a better mood than usual when Marcus saw him. This was definitely a good day. “What position do you play? Oh, let me guess.” He looked Marcus up and down as though that was going to help him determine it. “Attacking midfielder or striker,” he decided. “Am I right?”

   It had been a few months since Marcus had last played football for any length of time. There had been too much going on with therapists, case-workers, settling into his foster home, school and other issues to even think about it. Even so, here he was, absolutely itching out of his skin to get onto the pitch. Instead, he’d been held back as reserve, because he’d only attended two training sessions so far.

   Marcus understood, but it was aggravating to sit there and watch the team lose, because he could see the holes in their tactics so easily and probably could have mitigated the issue if he’d actually been in play himself. Friendly match, my arse; no one likes losing. Standing on the sidelines beforehand, he hadn’t expected Draco of all people to walk past him and throw a wink in his direction. Minutes later, he’d discovered that Draco was good, the kind of good that drew the eye. Turning his head aside, he glanced at the coach, who was making an effort not to visibly wince as the other team ripped through them, far more efficiently coordinated. “Is this why you wouldn’t let me play? Because you needed a fresh pair of eyes?” Jon nodded, evidently faintly exasperated, and that prompted a discussion of the flaws in the current strategy. The conversation only ended after everyone had headed to the changing rooms, Jon leaving as well to address the team.

   Marcus stayed sat on the bench, but seconds later Draco walked in his direction. “Hey to you too,” he said, grinning back despite the loss. “Captain, if I’m not mistaken.” When the other looked him up and down, it was difficult not to be self-conscious; his shoulders pulled back slightly in response, hand coming up to run back through dark hair, but the assessment was unerringly accurate. “Yeah, you’re right. Both, but striker most frequently,” he said. “Honestly, it was killing me to sit on the bench and watch that bloodbath, but I’m new to the team, so I guess our coach wants me to ease in. You played well, though.” And were distracting, which is not helpful because you probably don’t even realise you were.

[marcusflvnt]

draco:

To Draco, it seemed that some things didn’t change. It had been a month now, and four pointless therapy sessions, and not one of them was overly eager to share despite of what the group therapy leader - was he ever going to learn the man’s name? - tried to say to get them to talk. There had been hateful glares towards the man and storming out of the room as soon as they took a break or the session was over, but nothing useful or productive was actually happening. As always, Draco had found his spot between Marcus and Pansy, arms folded over one another and face expression half-bored half-arrogant, and was silent.   “Draco, is there anything you want to share with us?” the therapy group leader asked after a painful silence that just dragged on.   He pressed his lips together and let himself take a long look at everyone in the room. Pansy, first, then Ginny, then Marcus, and the group leader himself at last. The word no was burning on his tongue and it was exactly what he was going to say, but then he didn’t.   “Someone has to be the first to say something, right?” he asked matter-of-fact. “We’re all here supposed to get ourselves fixed with glue and tape, but we all look like we think we’re beyond saving. That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. Clearly not one of us has a clear enough mind to be a good and fair judge of that. If those around us, who are a way better judge of that, think that we are, then why is every single one of us stubborn and dumb enough to pretend to know better?”   That was a rhetorical question at its very best. According to the way the group leader looked at him just then, the man had no idea where he was going. Well, that made two of them. Not a word from anyone else, because they were probably hoping he would continue. Fine.  “I’m here because..” he paused as he considered it; there was no way he was going to tell the whole truth. “My girlfriend died four months ago. She took a drug overdose and died. Everyone around me has been treating me like I’m fragile and I’ve been acting out because of that, which apparently was not the normal reaction to a situation like this. So I’m here.” God, that wasn’t even close to the whole truth. It was more than anyone else had said, though. “Okay, now someone else is going to share something to make me feel better. Anyone?” He wasn’t asking and was hoping that someone would get that. It seemed that Marcus did.

   Mark, who was clearly good at getting results as a general rule, had tried a variety of approaches with all of them. They didn’t have a problem talking to each other, as evidenced by their conversations about ordinary things, but the minute that anything related to their issues was mentioned, every single one of them clammed up. Draco’s casually bored arrogance, Ginny’s quiet discomfort and Pansy’s cool exterior all had one thing in common: none of them were sharing, and that included him.

   Draco’s statement completely derailed his thoughts, because it struck Marcus hard. We all look like we think we’re beyond saving. Maybe that was what they really had in common. He hadn’t expected the other to be the one to start talking, necessarily, but he hadn’t really had any expectations coming into this. When the other stated outright that his girlfriend had died four months ago due to a drug overdose, it was a piece of the puzzle, if not the entirety of it. The acting out part, at least, he could completely relate to. It wasn’t fair to leave it like that, leave him as the only one who spoke. Goddamn it, he thought, utterly aggravated by what he was about to do. “All right. I’ll go.” He wasn’t capable of leaving Draco’s words hanging in the air like that when it clearly hadn’t been easy for him to say even that much.

   “My parents were abusive. It started off as emotional, but it deteriorated over time into physical abuse. I covered it up for years, but it got progressively worse.” His voice was casually blunt. One time only. Get it over with. “Eventually, I screwed up after a really bad incident, someone noticed and Social Services got involved.” It didn’t cover everything, not by a long shot, but he’d still said it. Leaning back in his chair, his posture mirrored the bluntness of his words, a deliberate display of devil-may-care comfort when he felt the exact opposite. His eyes went to Ginny, blaze of red hair making him think of his foster sister yet again, and then to Pansy. “I’ve only said that out loud once before in front of someone who isn’t a mental health professional. Not sure whether to apologise for the sob story or ask if anyone else wants to go next.”

@ginevraxweasleyy, @thatparkinsongirl & @occlumensism

[marcusflvnt]

ginny:

The boy who she had trouble reading was the first one to initiate the conversation between them, commenting on how thrilled they were by being there. Although it was an understatement on the sarcasm, thrilled was not how she would describe how she felt about being circled up with them having to talk about their problems. None of them seemed to want to be there, and their leader was going to have an absolute fantastic time trying to dig his way for information. She took note of the boy’s careful tone and movements, wondering if this was how he usually acted around people or what. Just like before, Ginny couldn’t quite read him. 

“Something like that,” she replied with a shrug. Attending this meeting was not something she voluntarily wanted to experience, but it was suggested countless times by her family and friends that she just wanted them to stop talking about it. Apparently the one-on-one sessions she quit was not enough of an excuse to say that she tried. “I don’t think anyone really wants to be here to be honest, but it stops the annoying comments of how much good this will do.” Her eyes were busying themselves by focusing on her cuticles at first as she spoke, but as she continued to talk, she gained the courage to make eye contact, something she had been denying herself to do with everyone else. It was one of the first steps in allowing a person in and allowing yourself to be vulnerable, making eye contact. To steer clear of eye contact meant you were being standoffish or rude, but there was no harm in trying to be polite especially when the other was doing so. Even though she questioned the cautiousness of his voice and movement, she appreciated it. “I’m Ginny, by the way. Under different circumstances, I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I’m not entirely sure we’re in the most pleasant environment? That was probably offensive, I apologize. I didn’t mean it like I’m not enjoying meeting you.” In other words: I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I’m not in the right frame of mind, and possibly neither are you, but here we are working with what we’ve got. It didn’t help that she didn’t know when to shut up when nervous, and this was one of those moments where she just wanted to tape her own mouth up before blabbing off something she didnt want to discuss. 

   Mark was trying, to give credit where credit was due; Marcus was certain that it wasn’t the first time he’d been faced with a group of teenagers more than halfway to hostile and disinclined to talk at all. He had at least been thankful for the exchange of names so that he didn’t have to go through the awkwardness of labelling people in his head by hair colour any more. The girl in front of him, however, didn’t seem as though that had helped with her comfort levels at all. He couldn’t blame her, if his guess was correct. Her bearing was similar to how his sometimes was, shoulders minutely curved inward in a way that was defensive rather than bad posture. Would you even have spotted the tell if you didn’t do it too?

   The remark about others observing how much good it would do made him nod, brief but the agreement evident nonetheless. “There are some people I’ll take that from, but when it’s mostly people whose profession relies on their methods working, I’m not inclined to put up with it. I’ve had to hear it from my psychiatrist, but she’s saying it because nothing she’s tried has worked,” he said. “But there are the people who actually seem to care about my well-being, for some reason, and that’s a lot harder to argue with even if I don’t like what’s happening.” Because despite everything that had happened to him, he still hadn’t learned. The first people to show him any form of kindness in a family environment and Marcus came here to stop them from worrying. That was the kind of shit that could get him hurt, because everything was temporary and that especially went for anything that resembled stability. Trusting it was a mistake. Yet he’d all but pressed the self-destruct button and they had asked him to try not to, because they were scared for him. He wasn’t certain that they knew exactly how much they’d asked of him, but here he was anyway. 

   When Ginny looked up from her nails and at him instead, the smile he met her with was small but genuine, the observation of her possibly being offensive making him chuckle. “You remind me of someone else I’ve gotten to know recently, talking like that. For what it’s worth, you haven’t even touched what I find offensive,” he said with a sudden flash of a grin that made him look more approachable, even if it didn’t completely reach his eyes. “We’re just not in a place where we can appreciate the getting to know you thing right ow, and neither of us is able to pretend that this is normal.” With a bit of a lift of his shoulders, Marcus added, “It’s still good to meet you instead of ‘one of the two girls in the group.’ I may not especially want to be here, but I’ve got nothing against you or the others.”

[marcusflvnt]

A starter for @thatparkinsongirl (many apologies for the delay, lovely!)

   The first therapy session hadn’t been much to go off for any of them, because every single person in the room except the group leader had been focused on saying as little as possible. To say that it hadn’t been a success was an understatement, but the group leader hadn’t seemed rattled at all. It was a reminder that for him, it was another day of work, and he got to go home from their problems and switch off. He didn’t have to live with it, and that was part of where the gap in understanding occurred when he talked about trust and safety. He had a normal person’s concept of those things, when it was clear that no one else in the room did. They’d all had their sense of safety irreparably damaged somewhere along the line, and that was why they were there.

   Right now, though, he was at the shops picking up a few things for dinner after football, because Maryse had asked if he’d mind seeing to himself and Charlotte because she was expected at a staff meeting after school and it was going to run over. It was a strange way to word the request, because of course he didn’t mind; but if he’d said that he did, Maryse wouldn’t have pushed him and that was strange too.

   What was stranger, however, was the vaguely familiar girl further down the aisle who he swore that he recognised. It proved to be the case when she looked up and met his eyes directly. For a moment, they both froze, unsure of the protocol. Did they acknowledge each other outside of group therapy and in public? Did they not? After a moment, Marcus shook his head and approached her. “Hi. Pansy, right?” he asked dryly, a small smile on his lips that she definitely hadn’t seen during their time in group therapy. “Of all the supermarkets in the world, we stroll into the same one. It figures.” The group felt like its own self-contained world, albeit one that was currently filled with deliberately passive-aggressive silence towards the group leader. It was easy to forget it could spill over into the everyday, just like everything else. “Is this where we’re supposed to exchange polite chit-chat about the weather? Because I’m not very good at that. I think it shows a lack of imagination.” There was a mischievous note to the words, and it was a clear indication that Marcus, unable or unwilling to talk much in group therapy, was quite able to be different away from that environment.

   It didn’t change the fact that he still kept a careful amount of physical distance between them, held deliberately, a wider definition of personal space.

[marcusflvnt]

A starter for @ginevraxweasleyy

   There was no easy way to figure out whether approaching people was acceptable or not in the present situation, but being sat nearby them was enough that a conversation could be had without having to invade their personal space. When Marcus had initially walked into the room, he’d identified the redhead specifically by her hair colour and the contrast that it created to the cool tones of the walls and floor, prior to introductions being made. Her shoulders were curved a little inward, but when his eyes flicked in her direction, he caught a quick glance upwards. Ah. Not making eye contact, it was true, but she wasn’t failing to observe what was going on around her either. It was an interesting dichotomy, one that didn’t fully make sense to him at first, except that then it did and he wished he hadn’t noticed. She was watching everyone else in the room carefully because she was wary. What happened to you?

   It wasn’t a question that Marcus had any intention of asking. He didn’t want to be here either, and he knew that it showed. So when he spoke to her at last, he was careful to keep his voice quiet and not startle her, no sudden movements with his hands to get her attention. He was operating on the basis of the same thing that might have made him flinch, keen to avoid any of it. “You look about as thrilled to be here as I feel. Are you placating people who care about you too?” The words were tentative but friendly enough, a glimpse of a boy who hadn’t always been falling apart.

[marcusflvnt]

draco:

  Yes, if studying to become a surgeon later, like his mother, didn’t work out for him, he could always go into psych and demonstrate his easy ability to get people to talk. Foster parents. Now that was an interesting detail to add to the puzzle that was Marcus.To hear that ‘they’ve only ever tried to help’ indicated that his actual parents had no interest in helping, or maybe had done exact the opposite: cause the problem to begin with. It was an option to keep open. “Well, you can tell you psychiatrist and case-worker it’s not helping so far,” Draco said, the cheerful undertone back in his voice as he leaned back against the table, putting his coffee down next to him as he took another bite of the doughnut. “Diagnoses are useful when it’s physical harm you’re talking about,” he said thoughtfully, the amount of reading that he had done on the subject clearly getting the better of him. “Mental harm, on the other hand, shouldn’t be labelled. People like to think in boxes and maybe that’s part of the problem. Everyone is different. You can’t give people who are nothing alike the same label.”   He switched his doughnut out for his coffee again, taking yet another sip. He would have to drink another one before the break was over. Or maybe he should just pour himself another one right before the break was over, so he could drink it during whatever was going to come next. Multi-coloured eyes rolled at the other’s words; not because of the other, but because of what his guess was and how accurate it could be. “It’s like we’re on a date. Talk about what we’re interested in. Well, Marcus, do you like sports or do you prefer reading?” That was sarcasm, even if it wasn’t made clear by the undertone in his voice, which was neutral. He sighed at the very idea of talking about the heavier stuff after a few sessions. By that time someone must have quit. “Maybe we should just get it over with so he won’t keep us here.”

   It hadn’t escaped Marcus that he’d let slip a few details with Draco that probably weren’t going to come out in the group discussion, if discussion it was going to be. He spent most of every day not wanting to think about his parents or the court case that was probably going to happen eventually. Taking another sip of coffee, he tried another tentative bite of the doughnut. If he concentrated on something that wasn’t the stressful associations that food could sometimes have, it was easier to eat. When the other made the assessment concerning diagnoses in general, though, it was obvious to Marcus who was the smarter of the two of them in this conversation. “You sound like a doctor, but one of the good ones,” he said, curious but starkly aware that being curious about someone rarely got him anywhere. “I think you’re right, though. Labels sometimes cause more trouble than anyone thinks they will.” After all, he had proof enough of that, didn’t he?

   The eye-roll was confirmation enough that Draco didn’t think that he was wrong about what might come next. Despite the sarcasm in the other’s tone, Marcus took a moment to study him, couldn’t help but chuckle faintly again, less humorously this time. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough.” He nodded towards the glass panel in the door. The group leader was standing just outside it, mid-conversation, and it was clear that the short respite was now close to over. Anxiety suddenly welled back up, and the thought of eating the rest of the doughnut was nauseating. Despite that, he brought the plate with him and put it neatly and unobtrusively under his chair before sitting back down, exchanged a nod with Draco after the other returned to his from refilling his coffee cup. Having the nearest thing to what could be considered an ordinary conversation under the circumstances had helped, probably more than the actual attempt at therapy was going to. He sat up straight, folded his hands into his lap, and waited.