bakerstreet | Hogwarts AU

_{[5th year, either a definite Slytherin or the most confusing Hufflepuff in existence]}

Marcus scrubs a hand down his face as he gets off the Hogwarts express he didn't get much sleep the night before he sat up with him mom, like he always did the night before term started, since she couldn't take him to the train anymore, and well his dad had had one of his moments when Marcus tried to go and get some actual sleep. He winces as the hand trails over his black eye. He shakes his head, happy to be away from home even if it causes a pang of guilt about leaving his mom there in that house.

He takes a breath and heads for the carriages, he's going to have to go to Pomfrey, who he knew had her suspicions but she never asked too many questions if he came in at the start of the term. Even said if he came in again at the start of the year without his teeth sorted she would just do it. Which was good because his mouth was actually really starting to fucking hurt. Maybe that's why people thought he was always pissed off, not that he didn't have some anger issues, it was just, smiling was a no for him.

His mood does lift when Adrian, Basil, Oliver, and a few other players from the house teams pile into a carriage with him, there is a lot of good-natured ribbing about the upcoming seasons, and everyone has been around him a long enough time not to say a goddamn thing about his eye.

Madam Pomfrey is quick about his eye, and tuts about the teeth, he's able to carefully talk her out of owling his father or mother, he didn't one trouble for his mother, or trouble from his father right now. He had two years of quidditch left to prove he was good enough to go pro.

She sighed, and as an adult, he would realize she probably very well knew what was going on, just not the full extent of it, Marcus didn't even know that. "Head to the feast, we'll start in on your teeth tomorrow, should have been done years ago though, so it won't be pleasant."

Marcus pulls on his Slytherin robe and starts to head down the stairs to the feast, hungry and tired.

Being angry and determined and a little bit scary were all, as character traits go, fairly unremarkable for, say, a Slytherin. Anybody like that would blend in amongst the other students unnoticed.

They did not go unnoticed in Hufflepuff.

Anybody who thought the yellow and black on Sean Conlon's uniform indicated any level of friendliness would find themselves sorely mistaken - though inexplicably a number of fellow Hufflepuffs seemed quite fond of him (especially younger students), despite his constant and obvious rejection of anything resembling friendship. He was a chaser on the Hufflepuff quidditch team with a fiercely relentless style of play on the field, and a fierce avoidance of anything resembling team socialisation off of it.

He was also very good at getting into fights. He was usually good at winning them, but today had clearly not been his day. He was always a little off on the first day back.

Which is why he's stomping up the stairs towards hythe hospital wing instead of enjoying the feast, sporting a split lip and a black eye of his own. He turns a corner and very nearly runs straight into Marcus.

So of course his first reaction is to grumble "Watch where you're going."

Marcus just shoves the shorter 5th year into a wall, "Don't make me beat the shit out of you." Marcus grumbles, he'd had enough today already. He was hungry and tired and just couldn't anymore today, just wanted food and his bed, not to deal with some rabid badger asshole.

He keeps walking after the shove, "Keep startin' fights you don't win, gonna hurt Hufflepuff's game more than it already is, Sean"

"You could try, " Spot retorts, though given how easily he was shoved into the wall it's fairly obvious to both of them that it's bravado speaking, Marcus could probably wipe the floor with him, though maybe not as quickly as he thought, Spot was a pretty scrappy fighter after all.

"It's Spot, asshole." He snarled after him. Spot, generally, either corrected people or just plain ignored them if they used his real name - even the professors.

"I don't like mixing it up off the pitch, more so if the people seem to just like getting the shit kicked out of them." Marcus shrugs, "Later Sean." He says lips twitching again, not smiling enough for his teeth to show, Marcus never really smiled.

He goes down to the feast sees the end of the sorting, eats, and heads off to bed. Breakfast the next morning he goes over his schedule for the year, OWLs are going to be so much fun. He's smarter than people think but not as smart as his mom, there were areas he really had to work his ass off in.

Transfiguration first thing was good that was his strongest subject, with Hufflepuff so that wasn't the worst.

Spot stomped the rest of the way to the hospital wing, was predictably snippy with Madame Pomfrey while she healed him up, rolled his eyes at her pointed comment about not getting in any more fights that evening and finally, finally headed down to the great hall for dinner.

He had to eat fairly quickly to get any actual dinner, but at least he didn't miss dessert.

The common room was predictably mobbed when he got back from the feast, with everybody catching up after the Summer or welcoming the first years, but Spot waved away anybody wanting to talk to him and just headed up to the blessed quiet of the dorm room, drawing his curtains around his bed and settling down to read a book by wand-light. There may be a lot of things he didn't like about this school, but that didn't mean he wasn't incredibly glad to be back here.

So of course when he walked into transfiguration the next morning, McGonagall announced that there was to be a seating plan this year.

"Mr Conlon, third row on the left please, you'll be sitting beside Mr Flint."

Marcus takes a deep breath, but he doesn't react, it's class hopefully Sean just leaves him alone, he just wants to get through today and go get his teeth started on, Pomfrey said it would take a week or two, and hurt.

He stretches his long legs out a little and gives Sean a shrug as he sits down before he starts to flip through the book in front of him. "Looks like Pomfrey fixed your face." He says casually.

Spot pulls a face, but he has to admit there are probably worse people to be sitting next to (some of them his own housemates), and since transfiguration is not traditionally a class that lends itself too much to working together, interaction can be kept to a minimum.

And then just as he's pulling his books out of his bag Marcus speaks and Spot shoots him a withering glare.

"Of course she did, dumbass, why else would I have gone to her."

Marcus lets out a long sigh and just rolls his eyes and shakes his head He ties his hair back thinking this is going to be a very long school term. "No wonder you have less friends than I do."

It's just the first lesson but it already a lot, OWLs are going to be fun he decides.

"Oh no, you pointed out I don't have friends, whatever will I do." Spot rolls his eyes, flicking through his textbook to get to the correct page "Maybe I don't have friends because I don't want 'em."

It was safer not to rely on anybody else, he'd spent four years pushing everybody away and he didn't intend to start letting anybody get close now.

Marcus' lips twitch he found a soft spot, he can dig into later if he needed too. He'll file that away for later, he didn't want anything to do with Sean, Spot, whatever he wanted to be called, not that Marcus cared.

Marcus has his appointment and okay Madam Pomfrey wasn't joking when she says the process would hurt. Soon it turns into the normal pattern, quidditch practice, class, studying for OWLs, getting his teeth worked on.

"I think we are done." Three weeks into the term Madam Pomfrey says poking around Marcus' mouth. It's sore Marcus thinks but slowly over the process his mouth had started to feel better, the ache in his jaw from the mix of crooked teeth was gone, and it felt weird. She handed him a mirror and Marcus isn't even sure he recognizes himself. It feels weird it feels good, it still feels like something his parents should have helped with years ago. But his mom had been sick since his second year. So It was all on his trashbag of a father.

He thanks Madam Pomfrey and he really means it, he's still not going to be smiling anytime soon, that's going to take some practice.

He leaves the hospital wing feeling like somethings been lifted off his shoulders, and heads down to the greenhouses for Herbology.

Spot had settled into his normal routine, classes, Quidditch practice, fighting (and the requisite trips to the hospital wing and sporadic detentions whenever he got caught), spending his evenings in his dorm room or the library (wherever it was easier to avoid people) and just getting on with things.

Except herbology, apparently, since his latest homework had received an appalling grade, and he was hardly surprised when at the end of the class Professor Sprout called out "Oh, Spot, could you stay behind a moment please?"

He was surprised when she added "Marcus, you too, if you'd be so kind."

Spot didn't exactly pay attention to everybody else in the class, but he was pretty sure Marcus was doing just fine, so why was he being asked to stay behind as well?

He got his answer once the rest of the class filed out of the greenhouse.

"Spot, I've noticed that you seem to be struggling a little with your Herbology work," she started, not unkindly, but he was still scowling - did she really have to do this in front of him "I thought you might benefit from a little extra tutoring."

"Marcus, do you think you would be able to provide such a thing?"

Marcus blinks at Professor Sprout, he knows he's doing well, but him helping someone. Him helping Sean on top of that. Marcus bites his lower lip. "Fine, but if he starts anything I'm walking."

Professor Sprot looks at him and shakes her head, but in a way that says she expected that response from Marcus.

"Good. 15 points for Slytherin." She says walking out of the greenhouse.

He looks at Sean, "How far behind are you?" Marcus asks folding his arms across his chest.

Spot was appalled, but he was also speechless - long enough for Sprout to leave and then it was just him and Marcus and Spot wanted to punch something.

He dragged his homework assignment out of his bag and shoved it at Marcus by way of an answer.

"I'm not behind, I just don't get this stuff." he muttered. He kept up with the work that was due, his marks were just almost universally awful.

"If yer gonna be a lil' twat, then I'm not gonna help you." He says looking at the parchment shoved at him, his anger thickening his accent. "Look, I've got practice, if you actually want help, I'll meet you in the library at 5." He sighs a little. "If you don't then you don't." He says handing the parchment back.

Practice is good, his team is really shaping up. He cleans up and grabs his stuff he has his own homework to do, he heads to the library and manages to snag them one of the bigger tables, spreading out his crap.

"Look, fuck you, I never asked for this." Spot shot back, his own accent - already fairly obvious - was much harsher in response. He took the parchment back and shoved it back in his bag, watching Marcus leave with a scowl on his face.

He had half a mind to just not show up at five.

Except that he didn't actively dislike professor Sprout (well, he hadn't, now he was considering it) and he didn't want to piss her off - mostly because he couldn't be bothered dealing with the lecture he'd get for blowing off her suggested tutoring.

So while he dragged his feet the whole way there, five o'clock did find him in the library, dropping into a seat at Marcus' table with a scowl on his face. He pulled out his herbology textbook and the parchment where he'd noted down the latest homework, figuring they may as well start there.

"I know you don't like this any more than I do," he started "so let's just get this over with?"

"If you didn't want the help you didn't have to come." Marcus shrugs a little but puts the Transfiguration essay he was working on to the side and pulls out the Herbology homework out. "What are you messing up on?" He asks relaxing into the seat a little or trying too. "Also I don't care about doing this or not, you're the one that keeps starting shit you don't seem to be able to finish."

"Oh yea that'd look real good, wouldn't it?" Spot retorts "Hey Professor I decided I just wanted to keep failing so I didn't actually do the tutoring thing you specifically suggested."

Which was probably as close as he was going to get to admitting he actually needed or wanted Marcus' help.

"I dunno," he shrugs "Some of it's remembering which plants do what things, but it's a lot of the practical stuff I fail on too."

He scowls "You're the one who keeps walking away."

"Because I don't like fighting when I'm not on the pitch, and I'm like a foot taller than you, don't want or need any more rumors about me floating around." He says. "Let's just go over the plants, we can go down to the greenhouse another time, helps me sometimes if I draw the harder ones and label them in my notes." He rubs the back of his neck a little. "Not very good at the drawing part, but it still helps."

Spot bites back on a retort. He doesn't actually want to fight Marcus (he doesn't generally want to fight anybody, he just has this thing against assholes that makes him want to step in all the time), he doesn't even really know why he keeps antagonising him so much - he pushes people away, yes, but he's not normally this bad.

"Okay fine, so we're looking at plants with healing properties for this, right?"

Marcus nods, "Yeah, It's pretty easy once you know the groups, certain ones all kind of have something the same about them." He shrugs, "My mom was a healer." He says as they start to work through the assignment. "Probably the only reason this sticks, she used to patch me up at home." He snorts.

"Yea but it's remembering what the thing in common is, I mean they're plants, they've all got loads of things in common," he grumbled, but he's noting down everything Marcus is telling him and he's not exactly arguing so much as complaining.

"You get injured a lot at home?" he asks off-handedly. It's not normally the kind of question he'd ask, but it just kind of falls out while he's busy trying to remember what the plant on the page in front of him is supposed to be for.

"My mom tossed me on my first broom at 3." He laughs, "She was captain of Ravenclaw." His lips twitch a little, but that's not the only reason. He lets out a slow breath, he points at one of the ones Sean is filling out, "That one is toxic..." He says, "Try thinking about it like oh it's got red pointy bits, it's stabbed, someone." He snorts.

"Must be nice." he says vaguely, imagining what it would have been like to grow up in a wizarding family, to have known flying broomsticks were actually a thing at the age of three.

It doesn't quite add up, though, because Marcus was good on a broom, and Spot couldn't imagine an experienced quidditch player would let him try anything too dangerous too quickly, it seemed a little odd.

"..that's actually helpful." he admits begrudgingly, making a note.

Spot Conlon | Newsies | OTA

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