Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Incorrigible Infatuation	By : RowenaLupin Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 14042 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, everything I write belongs to JK Rowling and co. I make no money off this or the music I incooporate. I'm merely a fan

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
10.)
I can't escape this hell
So many times, I've tried
But I'm still caged inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
He watched the boy struggle. He was clean, his hair pulled back and out of the way and he had taken multiple healing potions. Some for nerve damage and others to calm him down from panicking.
Marcus had watched with a strange sense of sorrow inside of him. The teen was dressed in pyjamas with a few covers over him.
The rain outside had not stopped; he could hear it pattering against the windows. Madam Pomphrey had finally left the room. He had been pleased to hear that she refused to work on his father and so he had been sent to St. Mungo’s along with his mother Jezabel.
“Sleep, Harry,” Marcus commanded reaching up and stroking the boy’s forehead. He had yet to take off his bloody shirt. Not even magic could get it out. Hermione tried for ten minutes before giving it up and finally deciding to leave Harry to rest with a kiss on the forehead. Viktor had even hugged Harry and it occurred to Marcus that he wasn’t jealous by this act. He was however a little pissed off that his lover’s so called redhead friend didn’t so much as show up.
It hurt Harry and Marcus couldn’t stand to see that. He hated that Weasley even more now than before.
Harry was laying curled up, feeling extremely tired and the soreness from that horrible curse was catching up with him. “Come lay with me?”
“I’m all bloody, baby,” he said by way of answer. He never really called Harry such a name before believing it was degrading for the most part but it fit in this instance. The way Harry looked lying on the bed, so vulnerable. So small. Marcus hated how his thoughts were going. He felt sad, sickeningly sad.
Harry had been hurt and it was all his fault.
“Take your shirt off then,” Harry reached out to him with both hands and tugged the bloody tie making it fall to the ground.
He smiled slyly despite his plaguing thoughts. “Here?” Marcus watched Harry’s nimble fingers work the buttons.
“Mhmm, since when was my Marcus modest?” Harry had a point. He fumbled with the last two buttons sliding up off the bed before shoving it off his shoulders and grinning. “Perfect.” He glided his hands up and down his boyfriend’s smooth torso, getting a sharp breath out of Marcus.
In a few swift movements, he was up, Harry was in his arms, and he flopped down onto the small twin bed. It hardly did him justice, for it was uncomfortable. But he didn’t comment as Harry lay between his legs on his side in an upright position, across his stomach and chest. “That better?” Marcus asked summoning another pillow for himself. He needed at least three to be halfway comfortable. He pulled the white blanket around Harry’s body and latched onto him.
Harry grinned as he lay on all muscle. “Mhmm, wonderful,” he hummed rising up to kiss Marcus softly on the lips. “My own Marcus bed.”
Marcus smirked. “If that’s what you want to call me.”
The boy nodded and pressed kisses to his chin affectionately and then his chest before snuggling up to him. Marcus began to rub small circles into Harry’s back, eyes open and alert as he watched and listened to the breaths even out.
It was only the early afternoon but the attack on Harry had worn him out completely. Marcus scowled and pulled his hand away from Harry and clenched his fist and pressed it against his forehead in thought. How could he have let Harry out of his sight? Merlin! What were the odds of Harry coming back from that oaf’s hut at the exact same time his father was coming out? Or had the man been waiting and hoping that Harry would pass by?
Fucking bastard!
The doors opened to the infirmary startling Marcus out of his thoughts. He clutched Harry tighter and narrowed his eyes when he heard a voice.
“My presence is not to be known here,” said a smooth rich voice Marcus knew but could not place.
“Of course, Lucius. I thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, old man. I have my own agenda.”
Professor Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy was now standing in front of Harry’s bed. Marcus stiffened completely, his eyes on Lucius who arched a crafted eyebrow. Tall, blonde, and irritatingly rich to a snobbish degree. He was thin enough for Marcus to snap him in half and pictured how that would look and resisted a monstrous shiver at the thought.
He couldn’t think like that. Not with Harry in his arms.
“I see you are comfortable,” Lucius intoned dryly glancing at the shirtless Marcus. The eighteen-year-old lazily pointed to the bloodstained shirt. “Ah, I see.”
“What are you doing here?”
“The Ministry will be here in two hours exactly to take you away.” Marcus made no movement except to hold Harry a little closer. “I am here to see that you buy your way out into the lowest sentence possible.” He pulled out a crème coloured folder from a briefcase and handed it over to him. “You might want to memorize that. Plead No Contest and your little beau should be able to explain his side of the story. When the Aurors arrive, you are to remain quiet. You do not speak to either one of them and you go quietly.”
“I’m not the one to tell that too,” Marcus said looking down at Harry.
“His fit, may prove to your benefit,” Lucius said smirking. “Part of the perks on being the boy-who-lived. The amount inside will be enough to sway the Minister. That will be all you need to get a lower sentence.”
“Why the hell are you doing this?”
“My reasons don’t concern you, they are my own. You will follow through with that Marcus Flint otherwise you’ll have a very sad little Gryffindor on your hands.” The blond aristocrat looked at Harry Potter, sneered and then smirked before walking away, leaving Professor Dumbledore to chuckle.
“He was always one for an interesting entrance, wouldn’t you agree?”
“He’s a filthy bastard,” Marcus grumbled flipping open the folder. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was doing this so my family’s financial status would remain underneath him.” He didn’t know what that man was trying to do. He trusted no one, but he couldn’t help but understand the text on the elegantly written sheets of parchment.
“I doubt that, considering Harry’s fortune levels your own.” Dumbledore smiled. “Personally, between you and I, Lucius Malfoy is a self-preserving man like any noble Slytherin and is shuffling all the sides that he can. I do believe however that his dealing with this is the proper way to go. Harry would not enjoy losing you, Marcus and I would not enjoy watching his little heart break.”
“Aren’t you worried that I will hurt him?” Marcus asked coolly. “Are you not worried that the monster inside of me will retaliate and extend to him? What if I do to him what I did to my father? I enjoyed it, Headmaster. I wanted to kill him! I would do it if I had the chance. If I saw him again…” He hissed steely.
“Keep that to yourself. Don’t let that extend to anyone but us, Marcus.” He stepped forward and conjured a chair before taking a seat. “I am aware of your past. I did a little prying into Seth Flint’s mind with a rather handy ability known as Legilimency.”
Marcus gave a nod. “I know what that is, I am a skilled Occlumens.”
“Yes apart of your training regimen when you were a child am I correct?” The Slytherin stiffened completely. He should have known. “Yes, I know of your home life and the type of things he did to you. I am aware of your growing bloodlust. But I am also aware of how Harry seems to be your antidote.”
“You can’t be positive,” Marcus growled quietly. “How do you know I won’t snap at any time?”
“You couldn’t bear to snap at someone you love so much,” Dumbledore rebuffed.
“So sure of yourself?”
“One hundred percent, Marcus.”
“You are a thick old man then,” Marcus said softly. “If I were you, I’d yank me as far away from him as you possibly can. I’m dangerous. I’m a monster.”
“Why don’t you separate yourself then?”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“It would hurt him.”
Dumbledore merely smiled, causing Marcus to growl. “That’s not the same!”
“It is very much the same, Marcus. You should see this. Harry stopped you from going too far. You would have finished him off otherwise. But you heard his voice, you heard his plea, and you stopped.”
Marcus glared at the old man before taking a deep breath and turning his eyes back down to the still form on top of him.
“If I’m not mistaken a certain godfather was very assured by putting Harry in your hands and I believe that same godfather is a very hotheaded man. A hard one to impress, Marcus.” Marcus stared at Dumbledore the entire time the old man spoke. “If he thought you were so much as a threat, he would be back in Azkaban right now, hands down. He trusts you to keep Harry safe. He knows you can when I can’t.”
“But I didn’t!” Marcus snarled. “I let him get hit with that Cruciatus Curse. I let him get tortured by my own bloody father.”
“That was out of your hands. You could not have known that Harry would run into your father at that moment in time. I’m only thankful that young Draco Malfoy came and got you. You saved Harry’s mind. Who knows what could have happened had he been out by himself?”
“You condone what I did to that man?”
“No,” Dumbledore said softly. “We all do things we shouldn’t do, Marcus. You were angry and that lust you carry drove you, not to mention Harry’s screams probably drove you temporarily unbalanced.”
“Temporarily? I am unbalanced, Headmaster.”
“Not where Harry is concerned.” Dumbledore winked. “Now, I believe you need to prepare for the Ministry’s arrival.” He waved his wand and a clean white button up was spelled onto Marcus’ bare frame. “No more talks about bloodlust, no more talks about wanting to kill the man. You merely defended, taking it a little too far. Read that folder and place it under the pillow.”
Marcus frowned at the Headmaster and realized that the old man was more cunning than he let on. He flipped it back open in silence, leaving Dumbledore to hum and leave a box of lemon drops on the bed.
Weird old man, Marcus couldn’t help but think. Very weird.
Approximately, forty-five minutes later, Marcus was sitting quietly when the double doors opened once more but this time a very tall black man appeared in deep dark robes. He was bald and had a gold earring. Beside him was another man, he was shorter, dusty blonde hair and pulled back with a beaky nose.
The Headmaster was with them.
“Mr. Flint?” The black man approached, his voice was deep and rather startling.
Marcus regarded him and waited, not attempting to speak first.
“I apologize for the inconvenience but I am Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt and this is my partner Daniel Dawlish, I am afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come with me,” he said and while his voice was neutral, his eyes were solemn, apologetic.
Hmm, why was that? Marcus wondered idly. It was funny how being with Harry taught him how to be perceptive. He was never this way before. He fought from rolling his eyes at his inner thoughts.
Dawlish however looked neither and was staring at the scene with a confused look. It was as though he were wondering what the hell Harry Potter could be doing with him, a monster.
Sadly, Marcus wondered the same thing.
“Very well,” he said succinctly.
When he tried to move however, Harry started awake. “M’no!” He was half asleep and hadn’t seen the Aurors yet.
“Harry?” Marcus winced when Harry attempted to snuggle further into him. “Harry?” He tried to get up off the bed, but Harry’s eyes snapped open and he jerked his head up and gasped seeing two unknown men and Marcus’ solemn face.
“Wh- what’s going on?”
“I apologize Mr. Potter, but we’re going to have to take Mr. Flint with us.”
Panic streaked through Harry‘s eyes and he clutched Marcus closer. “NO!”
“Harry, please let go,” Marcus attempted under his breath.
“You did nothing wrong! That bastard was the one who hit me with Cruciatus! You only saved me.”
“Harry,” Marcus shook him gently by the shoulders. “I have to go…”
“NO! No, no, no! You can’t leave me,” he moaned desperately. He buried his face into Marcus’ neck and held him tighter. “Please no, Marcus!”
“This is out of my hands,” Marcus said hugging him back. He hated to hear the desperation. It wasn’t right. Not coming from Harry.
Dawlish wanted to say something but Kingsley shook his head at the man.
Marcus sighed quietly and squeezed Harry before pushing his hair out of the way so that he could whisper into his ear. “I’m not going to be gone for long. I just have to sort this out. I’ll be back. I promise.”
“Mmm, you can’t promise that,” Harry sniffed, feeling his heartache. The tears came before he could stop it. “Please, please Marcus.”
“I have no choice. I want to stay but I can’t. This needs to be resolved.”
“Then can I go?” Harry whipped his head around to the tallest Auror. “Can I go and give my statement?”
“Your statement will be heard, Mr. Potter,” Kingsley insisted with a small smile. “I promise that your side of the story will be heard, we will do all that we can. He is not going to Azkaban. We are aware that he defended you and we are aware of what Seth Flint has done to you. We know it was in self-defense, but Mr. Flint needs to accompany us for now. He will return to you. There will be punishment but not to the magnitude of Azkaban,” he assured.
Harry bowed his head, a lost feeling settling inside of him. It was a terrible feeling. It was like Sirius being put away in Azkaban again.
Marcus gripped Harry’s chin and forced it up. “Stop that,” he snapped sharply. “I will be back, you rest.” He kissed the younger teen’s pouting lips hard and intensely. He ignored the others in the room completely as he forced Harry to calm down.
It worked, Harry sank right into him and lowered his head until it was tucked under Marcus’ chin. “Come back to me. Don’t leave me, Marcus.”
Marcus rubbed his thin shoulders, before sliding out from under him, leaving Harry to stare sadly. Marcus was exactly the same height at Kingsley Shacklebolt. But while Kingsley was a slender man, Marcus was all muscle.
Dawlish gawked at him.
“Mr. Flint?” Kingsley queried with a sad smile.
“Let’s go,” Marcus hissed icily, not daring to turn back around. He didn’t like the way his heart felt with Harry’s quiet sniffling.
Why did Harry want him so badly? Why did it hurt to deny Harry what he wanted? Dumbledore authorized a Portkey for the three to take back to the Ministry.
Dawlish was still stunned at his impossible size and height.
Twenty minutes later, Marcus was sitting inside of a gray stone room on a stone chair. There was a small cot to the side of the room. It was even smaller than the hospital beds at Hogwarts. He had no wand now, not that he used one often in the first place. Magic was Harry’s thing, Strength was his. He slouched in the seat, crossed his arms over his chest, spread his legs slightly, and waited until he was bored out of his mind. He kept himself busy by thinking of all the gruesome things he could do to his father and even his mother.
It was a sad sadistic thought. But Marcus Flint was a weapon. A weapon they created. A monster in the midst of it all. Why couldn’t he think this? He knew Harry wouldn’t appreciate it but he couldn’t help it. People like Seth Flint deserved to be tortured. Marcus would hold no pity, no matter what.
Two people within those few hours came in to talk to him. First a solicitor announcing his bond set at one thousand galleons but then afterwards he would be placed on an arrest in the school since Marcus had no home to go back too considering his disinheritance and he was still currently attending school. The bond wouldn’t go through until tomorrow at the earliest.
After much argument and a few bribes along the line, Marcus was now in front of Amelia Bones the Law Enforcement Witch giving his statement for the tenth time.
“I told you before, all I saw was Harry being tortured by my despicable father with the Cruciatus Curse and I went off… I do not remember half of what I did,” Marcus stated coldly keeping the growl out of his voice. “All that went through my mind was Harry. What Seth Flint did to him was irreversible. He’s fourteen-years-old and to feel the Cruciatus Curse - I wanted him in pain like Harry was.” He knew he was overstepping his bounds and saying what they wouldn’t want him to say. But he was pissed, just thinking of this sent his mind into a tailspin and the blood seeped across his eyes and he wondered briefly how this lady would look with her head snapped to the side.
He closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of it. He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t think like that monster.
Why not? A voice in the back of his mind asked. What is stopping you from coming across the desk and killing her? You know you’d want too.
Marcus scowled outwardly and shot his eyes open. “No one hurts Harry, Madam Bones. That is a damnable offense. I do not apologize for what I did. I had no intent on killing him,” he lied smoothly. “I only wanted him to stop hurting Harry and I took it too far. A simple stunner would not have sufficed considering what he did to him, not that my magic is very good in the first place.”
“It seems, Mr. Flint that you have quite the tale.” Madam Bones sat up. “You seem to be struggling with an inner battle.”
Marcus glared at her. “I left Harry in the hospital wing, he begged me not to leave. So excuse me for being a little pissed off,” he lied again. He wanted to hurt her; it was what he was struggling with. But he couldn’t tell her that without being thrown in either St. Mungo’s or Azkaban.
“You and Mr. Potter seem very close.”
Marcus crossed his arms. “My relationship with Harry makes no difference here.”
“Oh, but it does,” she argued factually. “How strong of a relationship do you have with Mr. Potter that would cause you to defy your own father? To physically attack him to the point of damage that almost caused his death.”
“He is my life, lady,” he ground out through clenched teeth. He hated talking about such private things. He hated to feel weak, especially under this bitch. “What else?”
“I see.” He could see the surprise and slight confusion. “I suppose the papers are correct in the assumption that you two are an item.”
“Indefinitely so. But Skeeter is a lying fraud.”
“Yes, I am aware of her legal issues with Mr. Potter. Now, you will have to stay overnight but I am sure we can all come to some sort of agreement tomorrow afternoon by the latest. Auror Shacklebolt will show you back to your cell.”
Marcus said nothing, stood, and walked away from her as soon as the Auror opened the door.
If he had to talk about his relationship to one more person, he would not be responsible for what he did next.
Merlin, he hated people. That was perhaps the only lesson Seth taught him that wound up true. People were nothing more than a pathetic means to a pathetic end. They were worthless, all of them but one green-eyed boy.
He was so fucked up.
A Monster.
Harry Potter didn’t need a Monster in his life.
Did he?
So what if you can see the darkest side of me?
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal
(This animal, this animal)
Animal, I Have Become - Three Days Grace

A/N: A little shorter than I like my chapters. But it has to be.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Incorrigible Infatuation