Lost in your gaze

i

The moonlight shone ever so bright. At this late hour, a figure could be seen playing quidditch. In a graceful manner, the figure moved, holding onto the broomstick. The moon light up the figure's features, enhancing them so beautifully. He was mesmerized, the way the figure moved, the way it all seemed so magical.

badum.

badum.

badum. badum. badum.

He felt his heart race as he stared, unable to divert his vision from the player. Who can this person be?

badum. badum. badum. badum. badum badum.

He could hear his heart beat faster and faster, it felt as if he was going to be dizzy. 'Stop it' he said to himself, trying to compose himself. The player, after noticing him standing there and staring, gracefully came down to the ground. His eyes widened, he did NOT expect it to be him. The figure had been Oliver Wood, his supposed rival.

"Flint." He heard Oliver say in monotone. Shit. Suddenly, his voice had sounded beautiful? No, no it can't be. Scratch that.

"Wood, fancy seeing you here" Marcus gave a small smirk, not quite knowing what to say or how to react.

"I can say the same for you, what are you doing out so late?"

"None of your business, Wood" Marcus scoffed, trying his best to forget the previous situation in which he was admiring Oliver Wood. Oliver gave him a look, a spiteful one, and briefly brushed passed him. Marcus stood there, looking annoyed, however, it would be a lie if he said that brush didn't move something in him.