Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry, Oliver or their little world of fantasy, fun and adventures...I just kidnapped them from the lovely mrs rowling -play-with for a while.
Criticism is welcome!
Enjoy...
~Silver Dragon
Pretending Reality
Harry thinks that Oliver is a very demanding Quidditch trainer. He thinks that he is also pushy, irritating and has only one thing on the brain: Quidditch.
It is nearing nightfall and Harry is tired from the strenuous five hours of training that Oliver has put him through. His stomach is grumbling because Oliver made him skip lunch; he is sweaty because Oliver won't let him take a break; and he's annoyed because Oliver is too hard on him.
In a rush of rage, Harry snatches the training snitch from the darkening sky and pelts to the ground, barely even stopping to jump off his broom.
'Harry! Where are going, we're not done yet!'
Harry ignores Oliver calling after him and storms up to the castle. He hears a thump from behind him, but ignores that as well. He pretends he doesn't hear the footsteps sprinting to catch up to him, but he can't ignore the hand on his wrist, spinning him to face an enraged Oliver Wood.
'We're not done, Potter!"
Harry wrenches his arm from Oliver's vice-like grip.
'I am. You can do what you like, but frankly, I'm tired, hungry and sweaty. I'm calling it a day.'
He turned around and started back to the castle, again. It had gotten dark.
Harry pretends he doesn't hear the sigh from behind him.
$*$
Oliver is already at the pitch when Harry arrives the next day after lunch. Harry wonders if Oliver ever lets his broom out of sight. He wonders if the man even leaves the pitch to sleep.
Kicking off from the ground, Harry ignores Oliver's bemused expression and approaches him cautiously.
He stops a few feet away from Oliver and watches him for a moment. Oliver stares back. Neither speaks for a few breaths, but Harry is the one to break it first.
'It's a nice day for flying.'
Harry pretends that he doesn't notice Oliver's eyes on him for the next five hours.
$*$
Malfoy shoves Harry into the Hufflepuff stands as they past. Harry shoves Draco into the path of the Slytherin chaser with the quaffle. The snitch zigzags ahead of them, just of reach of their fingertips.
Gryffindor has the quaffle now.
Harry leans lower along his broom. Malfoy copies him. Harry stretches his arm out until it feels like the shoulder is going to come out of its socket. His fingers graze the cold metallic surface of the flying ball. Harry thinks that he was hearing things when Malfoy growls. He shifts his weight again and lunges at the snitch, curling his fingers around it.
Once he is safely on the ground, the rest of the team pounces on him, yelling and whooping their glee. Someone's arms wrap around his shoulders and he is pulled against a hard body.
'I am so proud of you,' Oliver whispers in his ear.
Harry pulls back and looks up into Oliver's smiling brown eyes. He grins and pretends he doesn't notice the heat rising from his neck to his hairline.
He pretends not to notice that Oliver has a nice smile.
$*$
Harry and Oliver are floating lazily in the afternoon sun. Harry is stretched out on his stomach, one arm dangling from his broom, the other supporting his head. He isn't game to lie on his back like Oliver is; one leg bent, the other stretched out. His hands are loosely clasped over his chest.
Oliver's eyes are closed and Harry thinks that he's fallen asleep. He drifts closer, afraid the man might slip off his broom. He pretends that he doesn't think he does it to be closer to the other's warmth. Their shoulders are almost touching.
'I can feel you drifting closer, Harry.'
Oliver doesn't even open his eyes, just smiles slightly in amusement. Harry blushes and pushes himself away, but Oliver quickly grabs the end of his broom. His hand is half covering Harry's. He pulls Harry back towards him.
Harry pretends that he doesn't feel the shocks shooting through his body from where their shoulders are squashed together.
$*$
Harry glares at the parchment in front of him. He thinks he should know the answer to question sixteen on the Herbology section of the N.E.W.T.S. He blames it all on thinking about Quidditch. He pretends he doesn't hear the voice in his mind blaming it on thinking about Oliver.
$*$
Oliver glares half-heartedly at Harry when the Gryffindor turns up late for their training session. Harry pretends he doesn't see it and flops down on his back beside where the man is leaning against a tree. Neither says anything. Oliver just watches Harry tying a blade of grass into a knot.
After a while Harry sighs in relief at having finished his exams.
'Ever thought about life after Hogwarts, Harry?'
Harry looks up at Oliver, having to tip his head back slightly to see the man's face.
'I thought I wanted to be an Auror, but after Voldemort...' Harry shivered, 'I just want to relax.'
Oliver nods and Harry turned back to the blade of grass.
He pretends he doesn't feel Oliver's eyes on him.
$*$
The Gryffindor Common Room is warm and cosy. Harry stares into the fire, thinking about the previous seven years. He doesn't hear the portrait open or the steps that lead up to the back of his chair. He jumps when someone's hands descend on his shoulders.
'Sorry, Harry. Didn't mean to scare you.'
Oliver sits down beside Harry and watches him twist his hands together nervously. Oliver doesn't realise he's staring until Harry looks up at him.
'Oliver, how did you feel about graduating?'
Oliver bites his lip and stares at Harry thoughtfully.
'I felt excited, nervous and ambitious. How do you feel about it, Harry?'
Harry wonders if Oliver has an obsession with saying Harry's name, but pushes that thought from his mind.
'I think...I think for the first time in my life I'm scared. I don't want to leave. Hogwarts is the only home I have.'
Harry pretended he didn't notice the tears slip from his eyes, or when Oliver brushed them away. But he found it hard to pretend not to notice when Oliver pulled him against his side and rubbed his back soothingly.
Harry gave up pretending not to notice and buried his head in Oliver's chest. He didn't remember falling asleep.
$*$
Harry sat on the stairs leading up to Gryffindor tower. The Entrance Hall was empty and all the seventh years were in the Great Hall, dancing and having fun on their last night at Hogwarts. Harry thinks he doesn't belong with all his excited classmates. It seemed...wrong to dampen their high spirits.
'Harry? I've been looking for you.'
Harry looked up at Oliver.
'Hey Oliver.'
Oliver sat down beside Harry.
'Why aren't you in their having a good time with your friends?'
Harry shrugged and his brow furrowed in thought as he stared hard at the bottom step. They stayed in silence for a moment and Harry pretended not to notice Oliver's eyes burning holes through his temple.
'I don't belong in there.'
Harry was shocked, confused as to where that thought had come from. He looked up at Oliver who was looking back at him in puzzlement.
'What do you mean?'
Harry bit his lip, trying to choose the right words.
'They're...happy, excited, carefree. I'll just spoil their last night at Hogwarts. I want them to have one night where they don't ask me why I'm not smiling or laughing. Just one night without having to worry about my problems.'
Oliver moved closer, their thighs and arms pressed together. He picked up Harry's hand, entwining their fingers.
'I think they would be more worried about you not being there with them.'
Harry sighed and looked down at their conjoined hands. Oliver's were noticeably more tanned and calloused. The nails were bitten back and rough and the thumb and first finger were crooked, as if they had been broken in the past.
'I know. It's just... not right to me. I'm sorry, Oliver, you must think this is petty. You should be in there too, with the professors, breaking up snogging couples and brawling teens.'
Oliver grinned and squeezed Harry's hand.
'I'd rather be out here with you, then in there alone.'
It was so soft and low that Harry had to lean sideways slightly. Harry looked up in surprise, meeting Oliver's warm brown eyes, full of sincerity. Harry couldn't help the blush that rushed up from beneath his collar. Oliver cocked his head slightly and surveyed Harry in slight amusement.
'You're blushing.'
Harry's cheeks flamed and Oliver's grin widened, but Harry pretended not to notice the glint of teeth and looked down again. He stared intently at his shoe, admiring the shine on the toe and frowning at the scuffmarks on the slightly exposed sole.
'Harry.'
Harry started at the hot breath that ghosted over his sensitive ear. He gulped audibly and looked up. Oliver's face was barely an inch from his, brown eyes flickering between his lips and his own jade orbs. Harry's breath shortened as Oliver leaned forward slightly, tilting his head, but stopped a scant centimetre from Harry's quivering lips.
'Is this alright, Harry?'
Harry felt Oliver's breath on his lips and cheeks. His eyes darted up from the man's lips to his eyes, nervous and warm. Harry swallowed and nodded. His eyes drifted shut as Oliver pressed their lips lightly together, almost teasingly. The kiss was tentative and his lips were wind chapped, but Harry didn't mind. They still felt perfect against Harry's own.
Harry was barely aware of a hand sliding up his arm, over his shoulder blade to rest on the back of his neck, stroking his hair lightly. He could feel the places that Oliver touched, burning his skin and pulling him deeper into the man's unique warmth.
Hesitantly, Oliver pulled away slightly, still close and smiled. His hand was still on Harry's neck, still twirling the messy black locks.
'I see you've finally noticed my...affections.'
Harry grinned.
'No, I just stopped pretending.'
He pulled Oliver in for another kiss.
Criticism is welcome!
Enjoy...
~Silver Dragon
Pretending Reality
Harry thinks that Oliver is a very demanding Quidditch trainer. He thinks that he is also pushy, irritating and has only one thing on the brain: Quidditch.
It is nearing nightfall and Harry is tired from the strenuous five hours of training that Oliver has put him through. His stomach is grumbling because Oliver made him skip lunch; he is sweaty because Oliver won't let him take a break; and he's annoyed because Oliver is too hard on him.
In a rush of rage, Harry snatches the training snitch from the darkening sky and pelts to the ground, barely even stopping to jump off his broom.
'Harry! Where are going, we're not done yet!'
Harry ignores Oliver calling after him and storms up to the castle. He hears a thump from behind him, but ignores that as well. He pretends he doesn't hear the footsteps sprinting to catch up to him, but he can't ignore the hand on his wrist, spinning him to face an enraged Oliver Wood.
'We're not done, Potter!"
Harry wrenches his arm from Oliver's vice-like grip.
'I am. You can do what you like, but frankly, I'm tired, hungry and sweaty. I'm calling it a day.'
He turned around and started back to the castle, again. It had gotten dark.
Harry pretends he doesn't hear the sigh from behind him.
$*$
Oliver is already at the pitch when Harry arrives the next day after lunch. Harry wonders if Oliver ever lets his broom out of sight. He wonders if the man even leaves the pitch to sleep.
Kicking off from the ground, Harry ignores Oliver's bemused expression and approaches him cautiously.
He stops a few feet away from Oliver and watches him for a moment. Oliver stares back. Neither speaks for a few breaths, but Harry is the one to break it first.
'It's a nice day for flying.'
Harry pretends that he doesn't notice Oliver's eyes on him for the next five hours.
$*$
Malfoy shoves Harry into the Hufflepuff stands as they past. Harry shoves Draco into the path of the Slytherin chaser with the quaffle. The snitch zigzags ahead of them, just of reach of their fingertips.
Gryffindor has the quaffle now.
Harry leans lower along his broom. Malfoy copies him. Harry stretches his arm out until it feels like the shoulder is going to come out of its socket. His fingers graze the cold metallic surface of the flying ball. Harry thinks that he was hearing things when Malfoy growls. He shifts his weight again and lunges at the snitch, curling his fingers around it.
Once he is safely on the ground, the rest of the team pounces on him, yelling and whooping their glee. Someone's arms wrap around his shoulders and he is pulled against a hard body.
'I am so proud of you,' Oliver whispers in his ear.
Harry pulls back and looks up into Oliver's smiling brown eyes. He grins and pretends he doesn't notice the heat rising from his neck to his hairline.
He pretends not to notice that Oliver has a nice smile.
$*$
Harry and Oliver are floating lazily in the afternoon sun. Harry is stretched out on his stomach, one arm dangling from his broom, the other supporting his head. He isn't game to lie on his back like Oliver is; one leg bent, the other stretched out. His hands are loosely clasped over his chest.
Oliver's eyes are closed and Harry thinks that he's fallen asleep. He drifts closer, afraid the man might slip off his broom. He pretends that he doesn't think he does it to be closer to the other's warmth. Their shoulders are almost touching.
'I can feel you drifting closer, Harry.'
Oliver doesn't even open his eyes, just smiles slightly in amusement. Harry blushes and pushes himself away, but Oliver quickly grabs the end of his broom. His hand is half covering Harry's. He pulls Harry back towards him.
Harry pretends that he doesn't feel the shocks shooting through his body from where their shoulders are squashed together.
$*$
Harry glares at the parchment in front of him. He thinks he should know the answer to question sixteen on the Herbology section of the N.E.W.T.S. He blames it all on thinking about Quidditch. He pretends he doesn't hear the voice in his mind blaming it on thinking about Oliver.
$*$
Oliver glares half-heartedly at Harry when the Gryffindor turns up late for their training session. Harry pretends he doesn't see it and flops down on his back beside where the man is leaning against a tree. Neither says anything. Oliver just watches Harry tying a blade of grass into a knot.
After a while Harry sighs in relief at having finished his exams.
'Ever thought about life after Hogwarts, Harry?'
Harry looks up at Oliver, having to tip his head back slightly to see the man's face.
'I thought I wanted to be an Auror, but after Voldemort...' Harry shivered, 'I just want to relax.'
Oliver nods and Harry turned back to the blade of grass.
He pretends he doesn't feel Oliver's eyes on him.
$*$
The Gryffindor Common Room is warm and cosy. Harry stares into the fire, thinking about the previous seven years. He doesn't hear the portrait open or the steps that lead up to the back of his chair. He jumps when someone's hands descend on his shoulders.
'Sorry, Harry. Didn't mean to scare you.'
Oliver sits down beside Harry and watches him twist his hands together nervously. Oliver doesn't realise he's staring until Harry looks up at him.
'Oliver, how did you feel about graduating?'
Oliver bites his lip and stares at Harry thoughtfully.
'I felt excited, nervous and ambitious. How do you feel about it, Harry?'
Harry wonders if Oliver has an obsession with saying Harry's name, but pushes that thought from his mind.
'I think...I think for the first time in my life I'm scared. I don't want to leave. Hogwarts is the only home I have.'
Harry pretended he didn't notice the tears slip from his eyes, or when Oliver brushed them away. But he found it hard to pretend not to notice when Oliver pulled him against his side and rubbed his back soothingly.
Harry gave up pretending not to notice and buried his head in Oliver's chest. He didn't remember falling asleep.
$*$
Harry sat on the stairs leading up to Gryffindor tower. The Entrance Hall was empty and all the seventh years were in the Great Hall, dancing and having fun on their last night at Hogwarts. Harry thinks he doesn't belong with all his excited classmates. It seemed...wrong to dampen their high spirits.
'Harry? I've been looking for you.'
Harry looked up at Oliver.
'Hey Oliver.'
Oliver sat down beside Harry.
'Why aren't you in their having a good time with your friends?'
Harry shrugged and his brow furrowed in thought as he stared hard at the bottom step. They stayed in silence for a moment and Harry pretended not to notice Oliver's eyes burning holes through his temple.
'I don't belong in there.'
Harry was shocked, confused as to where that thought had come from. He looked up at Oliver who was looking back at him in puzzlement.
'What do you mean?'
Harry bit his lip, trying to choose the right words.
'They're...happy, excited, carefree. I'll just spoil their last night at Hogwarts. I want them to have one night where they don't ask me why I'm not smiling or laughing. Just one night without having to worry about my problems.'
Oliver moved closer, their thighs and arms pressed together. He picked up Harry's hand, entwining their fingers.
'I think they would be more worried about you not being there with them.'
Harry sighed and looked down at their conjoined hands. Oliver's were noticeably more tanned and calloused. The nails were bitten back and rough and the thumb and first finger were crooked, as if they had been broken in the past.
'I know. It's just... not right to me. I'm sorry, Oliver, you must think this is petty. You should be in there too, with the professors, breaking up snogging couples and brawling teens.'
Oliver grinned and squeezed Harry's hand.
'I'd rather be out here with you, then in there alone.'
It was so soft and low that Harry had to lean sideways slightly. Harry looked up in surprise, meeting Oliver's warm brown eyes, full of sincerity. Harry couldn't help the blush that rushed up from beneath his collar. Oliver cocked his head slightly and surveyed Harry in slight amusement.
'You're blushing.'
Harry's cheeks flamed and Oliver's grin widened, but Harry pretended not to notice the glint of teeth and looked down again. He stared intently at his shoe, admiring the shine on the toe and frowning at the scuffmarks on the slightly exposed sole.
'Harry.'
Harry started at the hot breath that ghosted over his sensitive ear. He gulped audibly and looked up. Oliver's face was barely an inch from his, brown eyes flickering between his lips and his own jade orbs. Harry's breath shortened as Oliver leaned forward slightly, tilting his head, but stopped a scant centimetre from Harry's quivering lips.
'Is this alright, Harry?'
Harry felt Oliver's breath on his lips and cheeks. His eyes darted up from the man's lips to his eyes, nervous and warm. Harry swallowed and nodded. His eyes drifted shut as Oliver pressed their lips lightly together, almost teasingly. The kiss was tentative and his lips were wind chapped, but Harry didn't mind. They still felt perfect against Harry's own.
Harry was barely aware of a hand sliding up his arm, over his shoulder blade to rest on the back of his neck, stroking his hair lightly. He could feel the places that Oliver touched, burning his skin and pulling him deeper into the man's unique warmth.
Hesitantly, Oliver pulled away slightly, still close and smiled. His hand was still on Harry's neck, still twirling the messy black locks.
'I see you've finally noticed my...affections.'
Harry grinned.
'No, I just stopped pretending.'
He pulled Oliver in for another kiss.