oli_keeper_wood: Flint. Do you want to talk?
marcus_flint1: No, Wood, I don't want to talk. Why would I want to talk to you?
oli_keeper_wood: Calm down, nobody else is reading this, you don't have to 
attack me.
marcus_flint1: What do you want, Wood? (There. Is that polite enough for you?)
oli_keeper_wood: I want to ask you a question
marcus_flint1: Ask. 
oli_keeper_wood: Do you. I mean - have you ever actually wanted me?
marcus_flint1: I can't -- you actually believed that rubbish? 
oli_keeper_wood: No, okay, I didn't. At all. But something Percy said last night 
made me wonder.
marcus_flint1: Oh, because of course, *Percy* knows everything.
oli_keeper_wood: It's just he's not usually one to spread rumours. 
oli_keeper_wood: Are you going to answer the question or not?
marcus_flint1: I want to know what Weasley said about me. 
oli_keeper_wood: He just. I said that you seemed to know how I felt about him, 
and he said something like you notice me far too much. And I know you noticed 
me, because I was the Gryffindor captain and Keeper, so of course you would. And 
he said he reckoned it wasn't that. 
marcus_flint1: No. 
oli_keeper_wood: It wasn't that?
marcus_flint1: Of course it was that. But it wasn't only that. 
oli_keeper_wood: Really?
marcus_flint1: As if you didn't know. Like you haven't been throwing it in my 
face for *eight* *bloody* *years.*
oli_keeper_wood: What?
oli_keeper_wood: Flint, I.
oli_keeper_wood: You *do* feel something for me?
marcus_flint1: You could say that. 
oli_keeper_wood: But I don't get it. Why wouldn't you say something?
marcus_flint1: First of all, it's not like you didn't *know* it.  
marcus_flint1: And secondly--what was I supposed to say?
oli_keeper_wood: I did bloody well NOT know it.
marcus_flint1: Oh. Right. Of course.  You've just been making my life hell by 
accident. 
oli_keeper_wood: You could have told me how you felt.
oli_keeper_wood: How was I supposed to know, Flint? I can't read bloody minds 
you know.
marcus_flint1: The entire fucking *school* knew, damn it! Everyone knew! 
oli_keeper_wood: But. I mean. I feel awful, you know. For what I've said about 
you. I just never knew you did feel that way.
oli_keeper_wood: Yeah and nobody bothered to tell ME.
marcus_flint1: You never once heard anything.  No one ever said a thing about it 
in your hearing. I can't believe that. 
oli_keeper_wood: I thought this whole thing was something Malfoy thought up and 
roped everyone into.
marcus_flint1: No.
oli_keeper_wood: I'm not a particularly good listener, of course
oli_keeper_wood: But no, I never once heard anything
marcus_flint1: You're the only person who didn't, you know. 
oli_keeper_wood: Why didn't you fucking SAY anything, Flint? *You* could have 
asked me. 
oli_keeper_wood: It isn't as if I would have turned you down.
marcus_flint1: Oh, *right.* Because I wanted to be the butt of every Gryffindor 
joke for the rest of my --
marcus_flint1: What?
oli_keeper_wood: You wouldn't have been a goddamn joke.
oli_keeper_wood: We're not like that.
oli_keeper_wood: What what?
marcus_flint1: Oh, no. You wouldn't have all had a good laugh about the fucking 
troll daring to-- fuck. Just go away.
oli_keeper_wood: Flint, I had an incredible amount of respect for you at school. 
You were always this fantastic Chaser, and a brilliant captain, and until Potter 
came along you beat my team every game.
oli_keeper_wood: And - I guess what I'm trying to say is that you're really a 
lot like me. I mean. With Quidditch, and being good at that but not at class, 
and. I suppose we were alike by wanting someone who didn't seem to want us back.
oli_keeper_wood: I would have said yes.
marcus_flint1: And why the hell are you telling me this? I didn't need to know. 
marcus_flint1: I don't *want* to know. Do you know what I've *done* because I 
spent the last eight years in love with you?
oli_keeper_wood: I'm telling you this because I want to know why you didn't ask. 
Were you just scared of me saying no? Why *would* I? The whole school seemed to 
know which way I swung. Everyone knew all I thought about was Quidditch, and you 
understood that.
oli_keeper_wood: No, I do not - EIGHT YEARS IN LOVE WITH ME? What??
marcus_flint1: You were what, second year? Your first game against us? 
oli_keeper_wood: Flint. I'm sorry. For what I've said about you, and - I mean, I 
never knew that you felt. 
oli_keeper_wood: Yeah, that'd be right. I had a pretty good game, too.
marcus_flint1: Yes, you did. And I fouled one of your Chasers, and after the 
match this little scrawny Gryffindor gets in my face and reads me the riot act 
for daring to not play by the rules. 
marcus_flint1: And. It's all been downhill since then. 
oli_keeper_wood: I just never imagined that people didn't play Quidditch by the 
rules, you know. 
marcus_flint1: I know. And I never imagined anyone could be so stupidly naive. 
oli_keeper_wood: But. I. You're an idiot. You could have just said something, or 
asked someone to *tell* me, or.
oli_keeper_wood: Yeah. I've been called naive before.
marcus_flint1: Oh, right. Because Perfect Oliver Wood would have ever stooped so 
low. 
oli_keeper_wood: Flint, you've always been equal to me. 
oli_keeper_wood: Averaged, Slytherin were better than us at Quidditch.
oli_keeper_wood: I won the Cup once.
marcus_flint1: Damn right we were better than you. 
oli_keeper_wood: Not in the end you weren't.
oli_keeper_wood: The last three years.
marcus_flint1: No. We weren't. You had Potter. And we wound up stuck with 
Malfoy. 
oli_keeper_wood: So I'm no more perfect than you are.
oli_keeper_wood: You know, if you've liked me all this time, your way of showing 
it really needs work. I mean, those comments about my endurance, all the things 
about Percy.
marcus_flint1: Thank you *so* much for your advice.
oli_keeper_wood: Well how the hell was I supposed to know you were interested?
marcus_flint1: You weren't. You weren't *ever* supposed to know. But it looked 
like you did, and. Fuck. I don't know. Why does everyone keep asking me this 
kind of question? Haven't we already established that I'm completely stupid?
oli_keeper_wood: I think I'm the stupid one here. To not see it. 
marcus_flint1: It doesn't matter. 
oli_keeper_wood: I just feel awful for how I've treated you.
oli_keeper_wood: Let me apologise?
marcus_flint1: Whatever you want. I don't care any more. 
oli_keeper_wood: Well, I am sorry. If I'd known how you felt, I'd never have 
said those things. I'd have been too busy saying very different things, of 
course.
marcus_flint1: Oh, I'm *sure* you'd have had plenty to say.
marcus_flint1: The Weas-- Percy said enough of it to me the other night. 
oli_keeper_wood: Don't. Don't bring that up, okay.
oli_keeper_wood: Do you still feel something for me?
marcus_flint1: Do I still-- God damn it, Wood, if I didn't still feel something 
for you, would I have-- 
marcus_flint1: No. Never mind. 
oli_keeper_wood: Would you have what?
marcus_flint1: It's nothing. Doesn't involve either of you.
oli_keeper_wood: Tell me!
marcus_flint1: Why, so you can hurt *him* too? Fuck. 
oli_keeper_wood: Who?
marcus_flint1: Just forget it. 
oli_keeper_wood: Come on.
marcus_flint1: Oh, hell, I really *don't* think things could get worse at this 
point.  I might as well. 
oli_keeper_wood: Okay.
marcus_flint1: If I didn't still feel something for you, would I have looked at 
the only person who has ever thought of me as more than a fucking joke, and told 
him that... fuck. Fuck. 
oli_keeper_wood: Told him what?
marcus_flint1: Told him I didn't love him. Told him I couldn't be with him. 
Because of *you.*
oli_keeper_wood: So -- it's. Everything everyone's so upset about with you three 
right now. It's. Um. All my fault, isn't it.
marcus_flint1: No, Wood, it's not. It's all my fucking fault.
oli_keeper_wood: Yeah, but if I wasn't so dense as to not realise until *now* 
that this was all *serious*, then.
oli_keeper_wood: Why did you do that to Percy the other night?
marcus_flint1: To hurt you. 
marcus_flint1: Because I wanted to make you feel even *half* as-- why the hell 
am I telling you this?
oli_keeper_wood: so *that* was my fault as well?
oli_keeper_wood: Great. Just. Great.
marcus_flint1: How is that your fault? 
oli_keeper_wood: If I wasn't so dense. If I'd understood how you felt earlier. 
You wouldn't have hurt Perce.
marcus_flint1: No, I wouldn't have "hurt" your precious Percy if he didn't need 
to learn to shut his mouth about you.  And he didn't look particularly hurt.
oli_keeper_wood: You did it because he was talking about me? That makes less 
sense than this whole situation.
marcus_flint1: Not.  No.  He decided to remind me, yet *again,* that you two 
were together, and that there was no way in hell that Oliver Wood would ever 
sully his hands on something like me. 
oli_keeper_wood: We weren't together then.
oli_keeper_wood: And if this conversation had happened last week, we wouldn't be 
now, you know.
marcus_flint1: That's not what Percy said. And you two have been mooning over 
each other for years, so why shouldn't I believe him?
marcus_flint1: And fuck. Thank you so much for telling me that.  Just twist the 
knife a little more, why don't you?
oli_keeper_wood: What did Percy say? And no; he hasn't been mooning over me for 
years. Or did you just not notice that whole Penelope Clearwater time.
oli_keeper_wood: Okay, okay, I'm not meaning to twist any knife.
marcus_flint1: Yeah, I noticed it. I also noticed that he spent almost as much 
time looking at you as I did. 
marcus_flint1: And you're right. I don't think--hell, even Terence says you're 
not malicious. 
oli_keeper_wood: He didn't know, though. So it's different to how you felt about 
me. Or how I felt about him.
oli_keeper_wood: I didn't think a decent word about me would ever pass Terence's 
lips.
marcus_flint1: He did add that you were an evil bastard. 
oli_keeper_wood: Especially since your trio is so fond of calling me 'the 
bastard'.
marcus_flint1: Yeah. Well. They might be tired of hearing about you. 
oli_keeper_wood: You talk about me?
marcus_flint1: Are you enjoying this?
oli_keeper_wood: No.
oli_keeper_wood: It's making me feel worse and worse.
marcus_flint1: Good.  
marcus_flint1: No. I don't mean that. 
oli_keeper_wood: Um. Okay.
marcus_flint1: Yes. I talk about you. 
oli_keeper_wood: I. Um. 
oli_keeper_wood: I can't believe this.
oli_keeper_wood: I just. 
oli_keeper_wood: Why *me*??
marcus_flint1: What do you mean, why *you*? You're-- you're everything.  
Everything that I ever wanted. Everything I wanted to be.  All in one package. 
oli_keeper_wood: Then why treat me the way you do?
oli_keeper_wood: I'm nothing special, you know.
marcus_flint1: Because. The things you said. The--fuck, if I treated you like 
that, there was a good reason for you to hate me. 
marcus_flint1: Besides just that I'm not good enough for you. 
marcus_flint1: And yes. You are something special. Damn you. 
oli_keeper_wood: Don't say you wouldn't be good enough for me.
marcus_flint1: I'm a Slytherin. And I'm bloody stupid. And-- Well.  I'm just 
not. 
oli_keeper_wood: Are you going to that ball tomorrow night?
marcus_flint1: I have to. 
oli_keeper_wood: And you're brilliant at Quidditch. And you've got a really 
sharp wit.
oli_keeper_wood: Spare me a dance, eh?	
marcus_flint1: And have you forgotten how many times in my life you've called me 
a troll?
oli_keeper_wood: You've called me enough things yourself you know.
marcus_flint1: Yeah. But.  Never mind. 
oli_keeper_wood: No, what?
marcus_flint1: But who  would believe any of what I said about you?
oli_keeper_wood: What do you mean?
marcus_flint1: I mean. Yeah. Right. Everyone knows I've never had you, so all 
that shite about ninety seconds, and everything else--no one was going to 
believe it. 
marcus_flint1: I mean. You're Oliver Wood.  
marcus_flint1: Bloody brilliant Keeper for Puddlemere. 
oli_keeper_wood: You. Um. You think I'm useless at Quidditch, remember?
marcus_flint1: And I'm Fuck-up Flint, who's just damned lucky his dad could get 
him a job teaching firsties not to fall off a broom. 
marcus_flint1: No. I don't. You're incredible. 
oli_keeper_wood: You're not a complete fuck-up. You're playing again, at least.
oli_keeper_wood: Um. Thanks. That really means a lot, and I mean a lot, coming 
from you.
marcus_flint1: You're welcome. I guess. 
marcus_flint1: But what I'm saying is that all the things I've said about you? 
Obviously not true. 
marcus_flint1: And the things you've said about me?
marcus_flint1: Are. And the only person who doesn't think so hates me now. 
oli_keeper_wood: Like what?
oli_keeper_wood: I mean, like what things I've said about you?
marcus_flint1: It doesn't matter.
oli_keeper_wood: I don't think you're useless at Quidditch, you were always one 
of the most difficult Chasers to read. Um. I honestly thought you were part 
troll, so sorry about those comments. The thought of shagging you is not as 
disgusting as I made out. Any other comments I need to retract?
marcus_flint1: No.
marcus_flint1: Why are we even having this conversation?
oli_keeper_wood: And for the record? I think you did lick my neck.
oli_keeper_wood: Good question.
marcus_flint1: And for the record. I might have. 
oli_keeper_wood: If I hadn't been so shocked, I might've had a chance to enjoy 
it.
marcus_flint1: Well. None of that matters now, does it. 
oli_keeper_wood: And. Er. That was me who sent that thing to Malfoy.
marcus_flint1: I thought so. 
oli_keeper_wood: My sense of humour is somewhat. Different.
marcus_flint1: I'd say so, yes. 
oli_keeper_wood: Look, I'd really better go. I'm glad we had this chat, Flint. 
I'm sorry for everything I've done.
oli_keeper_wood: Or haven't.
marcus_flint1: Yeah.  Great. 
oli_keeper_wood: I'll see you at practice tomorrow, and you owe me a dance 
tomorrow night.
marcus_flint1: And--I was only half being sarcastic. I do hope you two are 
happy. I... you should be. 
oli_keeper_wood: Thanks.
marcus_flint1: I'll see you at practice.