I Love You, Melancholy

Author's Notes: Wheeee chapter five! I hope you enjoy it.

Don't own themmm.

Key:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ = Scene/Time Change (Same Day)

-------------------------------- = Day(s) Later

Don't forget a review :D

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“Telephones.

They’re one of the major differences between the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, but what’s so special about them? If you remember, back in your fourth year, we briefly touched on the subject of them. Can anyone tell me what they remember?”

Percy’s hand was immediately raised.

“Mr. Weasley?” the professor said with a small smile.

“Telephones are one of the most common forms of communication between Muggles,” Percy explained matter-of-factly. “Telephones are also called just ‘phones’, and are connected to a network that allow Muggles to make calls to anywhere by dialing—” here he made a gesture of the action, “—numbers into their telephone. They run on electricity. They’re very popular; almost every Muggle has one in their home.”

“Excellent. Five points to Gryffindor.” Percy smiled quite contentedly here. “Can anyone else add anything?”

Oliver wasn’t paying much attention. Sitting next to Percy made him a prime target for being attacked—yes, attacked—by the professor for answers, since he said so much all the time, but he had other things to worry about. It had been over a week since his little tiff with Marcus, yet he was still thinking about it. He knew why he was, which was probably the most aggravating thing about it. He brushed his fingers over his eye gently. The swelling had gone down just fine and it was returning to its regular color, for which he was glad. Because he thought that Flint was going to be singing praise of himself for having hit him, he had been totally prepared for the Slytherins (and probably some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs) to be whispering about him behind his back.

To his surprise, though, they weren’t. In fact, people sounded concerned, and were asking him as to why he had it. His closest female friend, Alicia Spinnet, even tried to get him to go to Pomfrey with it, but he managed to convince her, as well as everyone else, that he had accidentally opened his locker and hit himself in the face. Oliver never really lied, and so everyone believed him.

“Does anyone know anything about cellular phones?” Oliver heard the professor ask.

As he had no idea, he shook his head. That would absolve him of having to respond to anything she said for probably another few minutes. When was class going to be over, he wondered? Sitting there, Oliver doodled on his parchment, drawing pictures of goal posts and stick figure him on a broom. Percy nudged him in the side and hissed for him to pay attention. Was he going to do that? Ha! No.

For the rest of the class, the Gryffindor captain occupied his time with doodling. He almost yawned, only managing to stop himself from doing so by holding it in. His eyes watered and he looked sleepy for a brief moment, but for the most part, things were fine. Every so often he would glance up, noticing Marcus across the room. Of the several times that he glanced over in the other boy’s direction, the look was only returned once, and it was considerably short-lived. Even so, though, it made him feel weird. Not the bad kind of weird, just…strange-feeling-in-the-stomach kind of weird.

When the bell rang and Oliver moved to get out of his chair, he dropped his quill by mistake and nearly stepped on it. He resisted the urge to curse and knelt down to grab it before someone else broke it. Normally Percy waited for him, but this time he couldn’t, because he had a meeting with Professor McGonagall during lunch to discuss something. Oliver wasn’t sure what, exactly, only knowing that it had something to do with what Percy was going to be doing later on in the future. Weren’t there appointments for that later on in the year?

On his way out the door, Wood fidgeted with his bag. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It had a grip that he recognized almost immediately—only Chasers had that. He turned his head, only to confirm that it was, in fact, who he thought it was.

Marcus moved him away from the door and toward the corner of the corridor, pressing him up against one of the statues, but staying at least a foot or so away from him. Oliver didn’t know why he let Marcus move him; before he knew it he was within pretty close proximity to the other boy again. His heart began beating just a bit faster.

Flint looked down at the Keeper, his voice low. “I need to talk to you.”

Not exactly what he had been expecting. He looked somewhat confused. “Why?”

“…Because.” Marcus let go of his shoulder, bringing his hand back toward himself and using it to rub the back of his neck. “Meet me in the library tonight, after dinner. Okay?”

It would have been an understatement to say that Oliver was confused. Yet, he still agreed. “…Okay. Where in there?”

“Somewhere in the back.” He paused. “Um…the Divination section. Hardly anybody’s in there.”

Wood nodded. “All right.” His heart was still beating quickly, which was bothersome. “Tonight, then.”

Marcus nodded as well. “See you tonight.”

As he watched the older boy walk away from him Oliver reached up and brushed his fingers over his eye again, trying to ignore the weird feeling in his stomach. Stupid dreams…

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Four hours.

Oliver had four hours before he was supposed to meet Marcus in the library. He was going a bit nuts, to say the least. He needed to talk about what was going on, and he had two options: Percy and Alicia. The answer, of course, was pretty obvious; Percy, though a good friend, probably wouldn’t know how to respond to the situation. That wasn’t saying that Alicia would, either, but she hopefully would, and better than Percy.

When he entered the Gryffindor common room after a short little walk, Oliver found himself looking around for her. He knew that she had O.W.L.s to study for this year, and so her free time was pretty much restricted to studying and practice, but he still hoped that he would be able to find her. There were a few students from the earlier years sitting and playing Exploding Snap, a pair of fellow seventh years working on homework, and he noticed that Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting around near one of the windows. Maybe they would know where she was.

“Hey, Potter, Weasley, Granger,” Oliver said in greeting as he walked over to them.

“Hullo, Oliver,” Hermione said curtly.

“Hi, Oliver. Don’t mind her, she’s just irritable.” Harry scratched his head. “What can we do for you?”

Hermione pursed her lips and huffed quietly, only to hide behind her book again and completely ignore Ron and Harry. She was clearly mad about something but he had no idea what, and he wasn’t going to ask her. It wasn’t something he was sure he wanted to know.

He scratched the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Spinnet is, would you? I need to have a quick chat with her.”

“Think I saw her talking with Angelina about going to the library a little while ago,” Harry said.

Oliver wanted to smack himself. His impatience was growing, much to his displeasure. “Did she say when she would be back?”

Harry had just started speaking when Ron pointed past Oliver, which caught all of their attention. The oldest boy turned, looking over at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. There was Alicia, wandering in with Angelina and Katie.

Yes! he thought.

“Thanks, Ron,” Oliver said, trying not to smile. “See you later then, Potter. Granger.”

Hermione offered Wood a goodbye, which Ron and Harry took as an excuse to start talking to her again. She ignored them, however, and returned to her studies.

“Girls!”

The three girls greeted Oliver warmly. He returned the greeting with a grin, but he definitely had one in particular with whom he wished to speak.

“Mind if I take Alicia for a bit?” he asked them. “I need to speak with her about something.”

“Not at all,” Angelina said with a shrug. “We were just going to go upstairs and open this package that Katie got from her mother. She says that it’s candy.”

Oliver nodded. “You don’t mind, right, Alicia?”

The girl brushed some of her blonde hair over her shoulder, shaking her head. “Not at all. But save some for me, you two, all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Katie said with a laugh. “We’ll see, Alicia. We’ll see!”

While the two other Chaser girls wandered off, Alicia turned to Oliver with a small smile on her face. “So, what’s up, my captain?” she asked.

“Well,” he began quietly, “it’s a little private. Think we could go somewhere…?”

“Sure. Where d’you wanna go?”

To what Oliver recollected, Percy was busy with school things, and the other three Gryffindor seventh year boys weren’t in the common room. They were just as studious as Percy was, though, so they were probably in the library. That meant that the dormitory was probably the safest bet.

“Dormitory?” he suggested.

Without another word, the two of them wandered their way up to Oliver’s dormitory. He didn’t figure anyone would think it was weird that they were doing this, since they knew that his and Alicia’s relationship was pretty friendly, and when it wasn’t, it was professional. Not that he was really worrying about that right now, since he had something else on his mind.

Upon entering the dormitory Oliver let Alicia in first, then shut the door behind him. As he had suspected, the other boys weren’t around, which left them alone to talk. Alicia took a seat on the nearest bed, which just happened to be Oliver’s. Or maybe she knew it was his, since his bedside table was messy as hell and covered with doodles of Quidditch, as well as a Quidditch magazine.

“So, what’s going on?”

Right to the point. He knew he liked talking with her for a reason.

“Well,” Oliver began, putting his hand on the back of his neck, “I’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“That being?”

“I don’t really know how to describe it.”

And he really didn’t. Oliver had never been good at totally understanding himself and his feelings. That was why, when it came to things like Quidditch, he was so enthusiastic: they were easy to understand, and thus, he liked them. This…well, he had no idea if he liked it or not. Okay, that was a lie. He had liked it in some strange sort of way. Why would he have been thinking about it all the time?

Alicia just sat there, leaning back some on her hands, watching Oliver pace the room. She said nothing.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Well, I had this dream.”

“Compelling,” she said teasingly.

Oliver laughed. That put him a little more at ease, for which he was appreciative. “Funny. But…on a more serious note. The dream. Yeah. You remember our match not too long ago, I’m sure.” Alicia made a face, just like Oliver did, but he continued on. “Well, I went to the locker room afterward and sulked. I was angry, and it was stupid, I know. Things were fine, though, but then Flint came in and starting poking at me, and we got into a fight.”

“So that black eye wasn’t from the locker?” she asked.

“No,” Wood replied honestly. “I made that up because I didn’t want people thinking I was some kind of wimp or something for not giving him anything back.”

Alicia rolled her eyes. “Boys. Anyways, go on.”

“Well, anyways, he gave me the black eye, and so I told him to get out, and he left. But the weather was so bad that he came back in and told me he wasn’t going anywhere. So, I went out to check the weather for myself.” Oliver frowned. “It was absolutely horrible, and we had to stay in the locker room, unless we wanted to risk getting electrocuted or pneumonia on our way back.”

She nodded some. “Makes sense. So then what happened?”

“Well, we had to share the bench for sleeping because I was too tired and depressed to argue with him about it. I waited until he fell asleep and then took a shower, because I just…felt like it. It was more relaxing than the one I had taken a while before to clean up and all of that. It helped me get to sleep, actually.”

“What’s the problem then, Oliver?” She didn’t sound impatient, simply curious.

“Everything was…fine, for a while. I was sleeping all right, and then I had this…dream.” He turned around then, looking over at one of the other boys’ beds. He supposed he needed to clarify. “About Flint.”

Oliver could tell that his remark had given Alicia pause. Turning around, he looked at his friend. She looked a little confused.

“Okay,” she said a few seconds later. “Um…what…happened?”

“I dreamt that we fought,” he explained. “And that was it, for a while. But he pushed me up against a wall and brushed against me, and we stared at each other, and…” He chewed on his lip and let out a thoughtful sigh. He would spare her the details, because he didn’t think she wanted to hear them. Personally, he didn’t want to repeat them, because they made him feel somewhat dirty. “It was really intense?”

“I’m taking it that this isn’t usual.” Alicia, seeing Oliver’s discomfort, moved over on his bed and patted the spot beside her. “Come on over here and sit, okay?”

So he did that. She reached out and cupped his shoulder, smiling softly some at him. “I’ll be honest with you, Oliver. I can’t say it’s happened to me and I can’t say that I want it to, honestly, but it sounds like you’re really confused. D’you think it was just some kind of frustration dream and it got the best of you?”

“I don’t know,” the blonde haired boy admitted. “And I’m even more confused now, because I think Flint might know.”

“And how’s that?”

“Well, he cornered me outside of Muggle Studies today and told me to meet him later tonight.”

Alicia snorted. “It’s been over a week, Oliver. Flint doesn’t strike me as the type to wait to say something, you know? Maybe he…” But she couldn’t quite come up with anything, and so she changed the subject. Sort of. “I don’t know. Flint’s odd. Can’t believe he delayed the match with him just because of Malfoy’s ridiculous injury. It wasn’t even that bad. I can’t imagine that whatever he wants to talk about is, either. You have classes together, right? Maybe he wants help.”

He pursed his lips. “I doubt it, but we’ll see.”

The two Gryffindors sat in silence for a few moments, in which Alicia patted Oliver’s head and ruffled his hair a little. She may have been two years younger than him, but she certainly didn’t act like it most of the time, and that was one of the things that Oliver really liked about her. Well, that, and the fact that she could catch and throw a Quaffle like nobody’s business.

“Thanks,” he said, feeling somewhat better. It had helped, whether Alicia really knew it or not, but he wanted her to know that he appreciated it.

“No problem,” she replied cheerfully. “I fully expect a report about what happened at this meeting, though. All right?”

The Keeper nodded, laughing quietly. “You got it.”

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Marcus hadn’t gone to dinner that night. He honestly couldn’t, because for the first time in a long time (since his first Quidditch match, in fact), he was feeling nervous and he didn’t think that he could eat all that much. The worst thing to do was shove food down into a kinked stomach…

Ugh.

Like he had told Oliver, Marcus went to the Divination section of the library. He hardly ever went in there, so it felt a little odd. Pince gave him a strange look as he walked by; he, of course, ignored her. As he had suspected, there wasn’t anyone in the Divination section. It stank back here, but he tried to ignore that, sitting down in one of the old chairs. It let out a rather obnoxious odor that made Marcus feel even more nauseous.

Now all he could do was wait for the other boy to get here so that they could talk.

But Marcus had never been known as a very patient individual.

After a few minutes of waiting, he found himself growing more and more anxious. This was so uncharacteristic of him that he felt like knocking some sense into himself. Just two weeks ago he and Oliver were what people would consider normal rivals. Now…well, he had no bloody idea what they were. It certainly wasn’t normal.

He was just about to get up and start pacing when he heard someone stub their toe and give a slightly surprised “shite”. That unmistakable accent brought the scent of freshly mown grass into his nose, and he had no idea why.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Oliver hobbling toward him, making a face. “Son of a…”

Marcus, for reasons far beyond his understanding (or so he liked to think), smiled just a little bit. “So I see you’re new to walking?” he teased.

Oliver looked up and furrowed his brow. “I am not,” he replied. “I just stubbed my toe on that stupid shelf back there. You know, that one with the books on fortune telling and all that…”

“Divination’s nothing but a bunch of tripe, anyways,” Marcus said. “Would probably be best if they just got rid of the study all together.” It was pointless small talk, which was something else he usually didn’t do. This was really throwing him for a loop, and he wasn’t enjoying it all that much.

He watched as Oliver took a seat on the arm of the chair next to him. The proximity made something inside of him do a flip. Damn it, he told himself inwardly, Stop it.

The Keeper smiled, perhaps a bit uneasily, as he looked at the older one. Neither spoke at first. In fact, things got deathly silent, save for the faint sound of peoples’ feet shuffling across the floor just a ways away from them.

Then, Marcus stood up, folding his arms over his chest. “So.”

“So,” Oliver repeated. But it was clear from the sound of his tone that he wasn’t the one who was planning on starting this conversation. It was up to Marcus, obviously.

The question was, then, how to start the conversation? There were many ways, but Marcus wasn’t the most eloquent with words. Given the option, he would have much preferred just showing him. He didn’t know if Wood would like that, though. This whole considering the other person’s feelings thing was hard for him, especially since he wasn’t used to considering those kinds of things.

The Keeper was staring at him. He could feel those warm, curious eyes. He bit his lip despite himself, turning around for a moment.

Terence’s words rang in Marcus’ ears: You get what you want.

If Marcus was going to get him, then he was going to do it his way—none of that beating around the bush and feeling like a pansy bullshit.

“Oh shit!” he exclaimed suddenly, pointing at the chair Oliver was sitting on.

“What!?” Oliver appeared confused. He stood up, looking at his chair for a moment.

And in that moment, the Slytherin advanced on him, not but a few inches away when Oliver turned back around to him. The proximity evidently surprised him, because he appeared slightly bemused.

“What was there?”

“Nothing,” Marcus said simply.

The Keeper looked up at the other boy curiously. “Then why’d you do that?”

“For this.”

Marcus leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was awkward, like he had expected, and Oliver sputtered in surprise. For the brief moment that it lasted, the dark haired boy enjoyed it.

“F-Flint—” he stuttered out, “what the hell was that about?”

“Should be obvious.” He shrugged. “I like you.”

Oliver snorted. “You what?”

You get what you want.

“You heard me. I like you,” Marcus repeated.

For a minute, the younger one looked completely baffled. But he didn’t back away, only brushing his fingers over his lips in confusion. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime to the Chaser, Oliver glanced up at him and, surprisingly enough, laughed.

“This is just so weird.”

Marcus was curious. “What?”

“Well…I…erm. I had a dream about you. You grabbed me like this…” Oliver moved one of Marcus’ arms around his waist, under his own, “And the funny thing is…you kissed me like that.”

That was unbelievable. “What?” he repeated, dumbfounded. He had had a dream about him? Things couldn’t be any weirder, could they?

Among it all, however, he had to admit that having Oliver in his arms was not a completely unwelcome sensation. The Keeper was rather warm, which felt quite nice.

“Yeah,” Oliver continued. “In my dream. Sounds really odd, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” It was a simple answer, but Marcus expanded upon it. “The real funny thing is that I had a dream about you. And…I kissed you like that. What d’you suppose it means?”

“That you need to work on your kissing.” Marcus looked offended, but Oliver quickly popped his angry bubble. “I was only kidding, calm down.”

Flint furrowed his brow some. “You’d better be.”

There was another brief moment of silence. Oliver turned and tapped his fingers against Marcus’ collarbone.

“So…what does this mean?” he asked.

Marcus’ answer was simple. “I got what I wanted.”

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