What would I do?

Lonely as you,

Pleasure or pain, I can't choose.

Marcus loved this change of pace in the dance they had both reluctantly followed for the seven (or eight in his case) years at Hogwarts, they were finally admitting that they both desperately wanted to shag each others brains out. The rivalry had eventually became respect for each other and the times they met up, they slowly felt the beginnings of how they became to be here, together, tonight, at long last without sneaking around or the threat of War hanging over them. He was on-top of his former 'enemy' and looking down at the olive skinned man who currently had his eyes shut in pleasure as Marcus rested his body on-top of his, watching his eyes open wide and then eventually shut, his brow furrowed, enjoying the action currently happening, immensely. It prove too much for the Chaser and he had to shut his eyes, to just feel what he hoped Oliver was feeling too.

What would I do?

Lonely as you

Marcus finished inside of Oliver soon after, panting, he flopped down beside the Keeper and glanced up at the ceiling as he felt the shivers leave his body. This was the awkward part, the non verbal part, Marcus wanted to talk, talk, talk and talk but all Oliver wanted to do was spoon into the taller man then leave with his tail between his legs before the other man woke up in the morning to find an empty bed with a note waiting for him, explaining. Sometimes he was surprised though, he'd lately been getting more then five sentences out of the smaller man and he'd been pushing his buttons to continue. Peering at Oliver, who caught his eye and smirked, he had leaned over holding out a goblet of Firewhisky which Marcus soon downed and sardonically raised in a toast, watching Oliver get comfy beside him, drinking his own Firewhisky.

"To you, Wood."

"To you, back, Flint."

Both laughed, even though they had become predictable and boring, they hadn't changed much. Instead of crushing each others fingers they were crushing each other underneath the others body, fighting for dominance of who topped, who kissed the hardest, who finished last, it was an extra season of Quidditch to them. Outside Hogwarts and without the eyes of their team mates or fellow students on them, though Marcus had jokingly suggested it one time that they got someone to watch but the Daily Prophet aimed at his head was indication enough that, no, Oliver wasn't into that. He lived in hope for that one day though...

Oliver swung his muscled legs over the edge of the bed and hesitantly plodded along to the bathroom. He was already distancing himself and finding a bandage while ignoring the huff of Marcus' breath as he was jolted. Marcus watched out the corner of his eyes as the Quidditch player covered up the scar that ran lightly down his torso to his pelvis, Oliver had received it in the War and hadn't quite learned to love it or accept it nor find a spell or potion that would remove it. Unlike Potters', his wasn't a symbol of hope or anything, it was a hindrance and Oliver hated seeing it unless he had to which was always when he was with Marcus. Marcus, on the other hand, loved it and always made sure to rip it off during sex when Oliver was otherwise engaged with something else. Oliver was less self-conscious about it in bed but confidence is gained when someone is laying underneath you, moaning and begging for more, so he managed to ignore it. Marcus made sure to run his tongue down the jagged scar at least once during their nightly sessions, he hoped to make Oliver love it like he did. He definitely shivered at that but with memories or being turned on, Marcus was still figuring that out.

Wake up,

You're dreaming,

I can't stand your screaming.

Marcus rolled onto his side as he watched Oliver fight, and lose, the demons in his head as he looked at himself in the mirror. Marcus had always thought Oliver was a bloody handsome bugger and Oliver had always thought that of him, despite his awful teeth (that he choose to get fixed, goodbye crooked grin!) so they didn't have much hang ups around each other apart from anything War injury related. They were both too bloody cocky for that and it wasted precious shagging time being coy. In the War, they had grown close once Oliver found out Marcus was on the same side and hiding, too, due to family who choose not to follow the Ministry or face Azkaban and in the rare times of meeting up, they choose to spend it in bed, against a tree, in an abandoned graveyard both tearing each others clothes off in desperation to forget. They took any chance to spend time together, blaming the fact two sides were fighting against each other and they decided not to be another statistic. Instead they were two people on the opposite sides of the coin who found out they were in love, at least in their own equally fucked up ways.

Drowning out these breaths,

Just some words without meaning.

Marcus had followed his family and made sure they were in a safe place, he missed the battle of Hogwarts but was first in the door of St Mungos when Oliver was admitted, half emotional and half happy. They said it would take a while for both emotional and psychical scars to heal. The emotional scars were fading slightly due to Marcus' own special kind of TLC, and the psychical scars lingered, Marcus knew that Oliver still screamed in his sleep every night he dreamed of the kids' bodies he had to move, the parents he had to separate from their children, seeing the Quidditch pitch being blown up. Everything being destroyed while he desperately fought for his, school, for his friends, for himself. He still hadn't managed to set up the Quidditch teams again, yet, but had began working alongside Weasley to achieve that. Marcus felt pride swelling in him as he watched the stubborn arse finish the bandage off and throw water over his face. The Keeper felt eyes burning a hole in his side and he shifted slightly, staring at the other man. The water still dribbling down his face, over his neck and over his still naked body.

"Something the matter?" He asked quietly, his Scottish accent coming out thicker in the lateness in the hour.

"Nothing." Marcus replied with a deep smile, "Nothing at all."

Spare all the preaching,

My secrets are worth keeping.

Oliver smiled absently at the other male and came back through, flopping on the bed shoulder to shoulder with the taller man, leaning into his heat and security. Marcus grabbed his hand and ignored the cold, flinching fingers, to squeeze the smaller hand tighter. They lay together, silent, Marcus unabashedly stared at his companion and felt that stirring of love burn deeper inside him. Contrary to popular belief, Marcus didn't hate everyone, he wasn't an idiot and he didn't just sneer. Occasionally. Marcus felt like throwing his wand away, buying a wooden cabin in a forest somewhere, proclaiming his love to Oliver for the world to see and them happily living in exile for the rest of their lives together. Oliver just wanted Quidditch, a security that he could call his own, an unfailing support in his life and he didn't feel as confident about love as Marcus did. Marcus knew that, even though the stubbornness in him that still burned bright after all these years, and he wasn't ready to give up on the Scotsman. Oliver's eyes flicked towards him and back before he opened his mouth.

"Why do you still let me come around when I don't offer you anything?" Oliver whispered, not looking at the other male.

"Because I'm a bleedin' idiot." Marcus responded honestly.

That got a smile out of the Keeper who squeezed the other man's hand as he carried on looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. Sometimes, three times out of ten, Oliver did want to talk and Marcus always answered honestly, not giving a fuck if the other got scared, he could leave any time but he doesn't not until morning comes, at least, when he imagines Marcus is sleeping. Pleasure or pain, he couldn't choose. Marcus rubbed his left hand clumsily over his face, feeling the last of the alcohol leaving his body and the tiredness hurting behind his eyes. This was the part he hated and loved, he loved sleeping beside Oliver but Oliver sneaking out in the morning, he hated. It was something he couldn't bare, he let Oliver leave him in bed, time after time, despite his eyes being shut tight and his ears hearing the shorter man make his clumsy way out the room. The kiss on the forehead and muttered apology made Marcus think that Oliver knew what he did hurt like hell, but it hurt him, too.

Nobody understands like I do.

Damn commitment-phobes, Marcus thought to himself as he heard Oliver's breathing even out. Marcus rolled on his side ready to fit into the body of the Keeper when the other rolled the same time and looked at him, really looked at him. He saw the freckles on Oliver's nose, something he'd never seen before or he'd ribbed him for days about it and he saw maybe an inch of the same feelings that Marcus, buried deep behind the iris. Marcus felt completely gay admitting it was his eyes that made him fall in love with Oliver the first time they ever met but he wasn't ashamed. Oliver wrinkled his nose, cleared his throat, and shut his eyes for a second before coming out with something that completely shocked Marcus.

"When did you fall in love with me?"

Marcus thought about that one, the eyes had caught him first, the rest soon followed but he had always been slightly obsessed with a person's eyes. Maybe it was the poof part of him that believed they were the windows to the soul but he had always stood by that, whatever anyone thought about it. He grinned broadly at sharing this memory with his bed partner.

"Third year, you were in second," Marcus laughed, "When we both ended up doing that detention together with Snape..."

Oliver let out a dazzling smile at that one, he remembered too then, Marcus thought warmly as he stroked back the hair that was curling over Oliver's forehead.

They had both, coincidently, ended up in the same detention in Snape's dungeon, sitting a couple of desks apart cleaning cauldrons under the watchful eye of their teacher. Both hadn't turned in an essay that was required two weeks ago, both for similar but contrasting reasons, which had irritated the already short tempered Potions master that even a student of his house hadn't managed to dodge. Oliver was the sad sack who spent all night devising a new Gryffindor Quidditch plan, hoping to get on the team by using his initiative, and Marcus couldn't be arsed with the essay because he was busy with, ironically, a new season of Quidditch. Both stubborn, dedicated to the team, and both doing a detention that wasted a whole night that could have been spent on Quidditch.

Professor Snape cast a challenging eye on them both and told them he would be back in moments, if they had moved an inch when he came back or caused any trouble then detention would follow for the remainder of their years at Hogwarts. Keen to avoid anymore distractions, they both threw down their wash cloths and sank down in a chair, calling the professor all kinds of abusive names in their heads. Oliver took the chance to look over his shoulder at him, Marcus glowered back, Oliver only continued looking at him, a smirk resting on his face and his eyes sparkling. Challenge, met.

A year later, Oliver had made the team and Marcus had made Captain. They glowered at each other on the pitch as standard of Slytherin and Gryffindor students but, Marcus fell in love. Oliver had looked at him with those dark hazel eyes and turned his head to the side as he considered Marcus, that was the rivalry set in motion and the obsession beginning to stir inside Marcus. He gripped onto that and when he went back to the Slytherin common room, all he could see was Oliver's smile. Marcus dreamt of it, obsessed about it, pretended he hated him just so he could keep this love to himself. He was a Slytherin, and they just didn't like to share.

Every now and then,

You're down and out again,

But,

I'm down and out with you.

"...And that is how I fell in love," Marcus finished telling the story to Oliver, with a kiss.

"Interesting way to fall in love, by competition and detention," Oliver snorted in reply. "Real romantic."

"Well when did you fall in love with me?" Marcus couldn't resist pushing the boundaries, it kept the Keeper on his toes after all.

"A while ago...", Came the surprising and mumbled reply, "Good night, Marc."

Oliver was a Keeper in both senses of the word, and Marcus was a Chaser through and through. That thought kept a smile on his face as he rolled over, allowing Oliver to roll into his strong back. Maybe tonight it would be enough to Keep him.

Blame it on youth, all these years I've been losing,

Blame it on the past the last place I knew you.

AN: First in a series :) let me know what you thought. The other chapters will have a song going through them as well. If anyone is interested, this is Foo Fighters – Lonely as You.