I Love You, Melancholy

Author's Notes: I hope that you enjoy this chapter! It was...a little difficult to write, but only because I was going through some stuff. For those who don't know, I usually don't upload stories until they're all finished. This one was written a while ago. But, anyways. Don't own them.

Key:

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

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

Don't forget to review! :D

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He got what he wanted.

Though at first Oliver thought those words made it sound like he was some kind of odd prize to be won, he began to realize that such a meaning couldn’t have been further from the truth. True, Marcus wanted him, and yes, he got him, but Oliver could have easily said no. Why would he, though? Things, oddly enough, just felt…right.

Even Alicia, in whom Oliver had confided just about everything since the two of them had gotten together, seemed to think so. She wasn’t keen on the fact that it was Marcus Flint, specifically, but she was happy that her good friend had found someone. She, along with everyone else, noticed the slight skip in Oliver’s step and happier tone to his voice. They just thought that it had to do with the fact that Ravenclaw had flattened Hufflepuff in the game at the end of November. After all, it was common knowledge by then that Wood hadn’t been all that happy with having lost to Diggory and his team. In all honesty, the causes were about half-and-half.

It was the middle of December, and most of the students, including Oliver and Marcus themselves, had pretty much resigned on working hard. All the heads of Houses had taken names of the students that were staying over the holiday break. Hardly any did, from what the two boys had seen, but that didn’t matter much—neither of them was staying, either, because Christmas with their families wasn’t something they just passed by. Even if Marcus didn’t always get along with his brother and sister, Christmastime was a time in which that was cast aside, because the family was what was important.

The family or the gifts, whatever.

Oliver loved going home for Christmas. He, along with his parents, his brother and his sister-in-law usually spent Christmas Eve singing songs and drinking merrily, heading to bed after the fun-filled night, only to rise at a reasonable time that following morning and share an exciting day full of family love. It sounded horribly corny, yes, but it was something that he enjoyed, so there was no reason to hide it.

It was just past seven-thirty that Friday evening, and Marcus and Oliver were sitting on the third floor in one of the little study areas offset the Charms corridor. Not many people came to it, which was the reason why they had chosen it. Plus, because of the vaulted ceiling and the relatively bare stone floor, they would be able to hear anyone that came within a few yards of them. They were lucky enough to have a fireplace near their seating area, which only maybe one other in the school happened to have. As there was a hazy, chilly rain that had given way to snow (nowhere near as bad as the rain at the beginning of November), the fire was a welcomed heat.

Then again, so was each of them to the other.

Marcus was sitting on one side of the couch while Oliver was on the other, their bent legs meeting in the middle. Their shoes were off, which was a little dangerous if they ended up getting caught, but they would always be able to feign studying, which was what they had been trying to do. But someone was making it a little difficult.

“Damn it, Flint,” Oliver said, furrowing his brow, “stop touching the bottom of my feet with the bottom of yours. You know that tickles.”

“Who says that’s not why I’m doing it?” Marcus continued poking the bottom of the Keeper’s feet gently, smirking.

“Stop it…” Oliver groaned.

It may have been funny the first time, but now it was just getting annoying. He hated the fact that he was so ticklish, and he hated it that Marcus knew he was so ticklish. If there was one thing that debilitated him in just a few seconds, it was that.

“Oh, fine,” Flint said. “Ruin my fun.” He didn’t say anything else for a minute, then added, “I’m tired of studying,” and he closed his Muggle Studies book.

Wood nodded in agreement, though he kept his book open. “Me, too.” It was hard to focus, really, given the fact that there was a Hogsmeade trip coming up tomorrow and that the end of term was the day after that. This, along with the trip, was the last time they would be seeing one another for a few weeks, so they were trying to spend the time together.

“So, what’re you gonna get at Hogsmeade tomorrow?” Marcus asked.

“I don’t have any extra money,” Oliver explained as he looked over his textbook. “So I probably won’t get much besides a butterbeer.”

“We’ll go to the Hog’s Head for that.”

Oliver didn’t disagree. People would probably think it odd if he and his rival captain were out at the Three Broomsticks, enjoying a pair of drinks. The Hog’s Head was a place that not many people went to…at least, people of the student population. He had never been there, himself, but Marcus had, and he figured that if anything bad happened, they would just leave.

Things were quiet for a while, save for the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. They would have to be leaving soon, because curfew for them had passed just a minute or two ago, and it didn’t do to get caught by an irritated Prefect who had been made to do rounds before the end of term. They were significantly more malicious than usual, especially the fifth years. Oliver chalked it up to the fact that they were in O.W.L. studies. Not even the seventh year Prefects were like that, and they had N.E.W.T.s.

Finally realizing that he wasn’t taking in anything from the book, Wood shut it and dropped it on the table next to them. It landed with a quiet thud.

“We should be getting back,” he said, starting to stretch.

Once he had finished stretching, he noticed that Marcus was moving toward him. Somewhat surprised, he looked at the other boy, cocking his head to the side. “What’re you—”

He was cut off when Flint, who had slipped between the younger one’s legs, leaned his head down and stole a kiss. Marcus smirked at him, but said nothing.

“Get off, you pervert,” Oliver said teasingly. He pushed—though playfully—at him, but Marcus didn’t budge. “You’re going to get us caught and then we’re going to be in a ton of trouble.”

“Mm, maybe I want to get caught. You never know. Think of the rush, Wood.” Here he leaned in some, whispering into the Keeper’s ear. “You know, it’s almost like a Quidditch match. Your heart’s beating wildly, your blood’s pumping, your skin’s tingling, and everything feels so much more…powerful.” He pulled back, still smirking.

Marcus had done an excellent job describing it, because Oliver paused for a moment before he responded. “Don’t ever let anyone say you’re not persuasive.” He reached up and played idly with the Slytherin’s tie, looking up at him. “So, what do you want to do, then?”

Flint sent a glance to both sides of them, looking down at Oliver afterward. “Well, there’s always the classic snog,” he said. “Bit of grinding. We could grope each other. Lots of choices.”

“Again, I repeat: you pervert.”

“You like it.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t.”

Tugging on the Slytherin’s tie, Oliver brought their lips together into a kiss. His legs shifted around the larger body so that he could find a comfortable position; the last thing he wanted was to be kissing, only to get a charlie-horse in one of his leg muscles. He wasn’t really sure how far they were going to go, but the feelings that Marcus had mentioned were all there.

He was right; everything felt much more powerful. In fact, it felt an awful lot like his dream in the past, but he wasn’t going to think about that when he had the same thing right here with him.

Oliver arched his back some when Marcus moved from their kiss to brush his lips over the Keeper’s jaw line. It tingled, sending a chill up his spine. He resisted the urge to shudder, because he didn’t want it to be taken the wrong way. Flint didn’t waste any time in starting up with grinding against the other boy’s lower half, still brushing his lips over Oliver’s jaw, occasionally moving down to his neck. Marcus moaned, low and quiet, which, combined with their lower halves moving against one another, caused a strange sort of reaction in the younger boy’s body. Whatever it was, though, it felt good.

Marcus had just begun to grind a bit harder and brush his nose against Wood’s ear when there was the sound of footsteps not too far away.

“Shit!” Oliver said in surprise. His immediate reaction was to push Marcus off, and since the older boy hadn’t been expecting it, he fumbled and stumbled off of the couch, hitting his shoulder against the table with a rather loud thud.

Flint growled and rubbed his hand over his shoulder.

The Keeper looked incredibly embarrassed, and also a little sheepish. “…Sorry,” he said. He offered Marcus a hand, but he didn’t take it.

Marcus looked at his boyfriend, his jaw locked and mouth partially open. “You’re so going to pay for that.”

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Oliver stared out the window of the carriage as it carried him to Hogsmeade. The snow falling outside seemed light and fluffy, which was something that he was glad for. Overly wet snow had always bothered him, because it wasn’t nearly as fun.

Not that…he would be playing in it, or anything.

When he arrived in Hogsmeade, Wood slipped out of the carriage and wrapped his cloak a bit tighter around himself. It was cold, and he wanted to get to the Hog’s Head as quickly as possible. It was too bad he didn’t have a hood; that would have helped him to keep his face warmer.

He and Marcus had decided to go to Hogsmeade at different times, since it would have been odd for them to go at the same time, let alone in the same carriage. Plus, Marcus usually slept in a little on the weekends, when he had a bit more time. Oliver didn’t, though, so he imagined that he would be getting to the Hog’s Head a little earlier than the other boy would.

But to his surprise, when he slipped into the shady pub, he found the Slytherin sitting at a small table near the back. Having never frequented the Hog’s Head before, Oliver didn’t feel the same comfort that he usually felt when he was in the Three Broomsticks. He tried to put that aside as he walked back toward Marcus’ table.

Upon his arrival he took a seat across from the other, taking his cloak off and draping it over his chair. He felt slightly more at ease, thanks to the other’s presence, and smiled in greeting.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” Marcus replied. He took a sip of his drink. “You look surprised.”

“Didn’t think you’d be here before I was,” Oliver explained. “And the snow got the best of me. It’s really bad out there.”

“Wet?” he asked curiously.

“No, just…there’s a lot of it. And it’s hard to breathe deep when you’re walking without getting a mouthful of it.”

“Oh.” Marcus leaned back in his chair and scratched the side of his face, a small smirk appearing on his face. “I didn’t have a problem with it.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. He didn’t see the smirk at first and was going to retort, but he decided against doing so once he finally noticed it. Instead, he replied coyly, “And you’re suggesting that I did?”

“Well,” the Slytherin’s tone was airy; “clearly you weren’t paying attention in Charms when we learned that reflection spell.”

Reflection spell? When had they learned that? Oliver didn’t remember it at all. He would have remembered something like that, because it sounded incredibly useful. It wasn’t until he caught the smirk growing wider that he realized the other was lying to him.

“You arse,” Wood said, mock angrily. “You’re such a liar.”

“Am not,” Marcus stated. His foot nudged against the Keeper’s underneath the table. “You just have a poor memory.”

Oliver responded to the nudging by pulling back some. “Do not. And stop it. You know what I said earlier about tickling. Remember where that got you?”

That seemed to get to the other boy. He looked at his boyfriend, a mildly irritated look taking over the smirk. “Yes. Still your fault, though.”

“Not really.”

“Whatever,” Marcus said dismissively. “Change of subject. I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Already?” Oliver asked. “I just got here.”

“You’re welcome to join me,” he offered with a shrug.

“In the bathroom? Are you nuts?”

Marcus shrugged again as he stood. Before walking off, he said with a small, almost lascivious sort of look on his face, “Offer still stands.”

That was odd, the Keeper thought. Why in the world would Marcus offer him the chance to be in the bathroom with him? That was gross.

Then it hit him. Did Marcus really have to go?

Staring over toward the bathroom door, Oliver watched in confusion as the other captain stepped inside.

Had Marcus Flint just waggled his butt?

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Since Marcus and Oliver had chosen (and wisely, at that) to just say goodbye after their little…romp in Hogsmeade, that morning Marcus boarded the train with his friends, feeling relatively content. Being around Pucey and Higgs was still strange, to say the least. They hung out at meal times and things of the like, and then there was practice, but this was the first time in a long time that the three of them had been by themselves.

Needless to say, the Slytherin captain was feeling a little envious. Though Terence knew that Marcus was aware about his relationship with Adrian (if you could call it that, really), Adrian did not, and so the two of them didn’t act much different. Still, Marcus knew, and part of him couldn’t help but want to just blurt out and say, “Just get on with it”.

For some reason, however, he didn’t.

He wondered what Wood was doing right about now. The train had been on the move for several minutes, and he was staring out the window, only responding every so often to a question or statement, or making one of his own when he felt the desire. Marcus didn’t usually space out like that, which was what was so curious to him. Why did he care so much?

Well, that was something to worry about when he got home. Better that than having to talk to his siblings.

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