Oliver left McGonagall's office in a disarray. He didn't know what to do. McGonagall had practically demanded that he speak to Marcus, but how could Oliver do that if Marcus was still avoiding him? How could Oliver help Marcus, when Marcus didn't even know he'd hurt himself?

Because if it all boiled to a head, there was no doubt about it, Marcus would be the one to get expelled. He'd done this to himself. He'd kissed Oliver and he'd taken it upon himself to skip detention. No one forced him to do either of those things. Then he'd drug Oliver into it attempting to cover his own arse. And that thought left Oliver with the most important question of all.

Did he want to help Marcus? Why should he when Marcus had done nothing but hurt him? Hurt himself? He'd verbally and physically abused Oliver, and then gave him the smallest amount of affection, to simply snatch it away immediately afterwards. And then he'd lied about it.

Oliver sighed as he turned corner after corner, just walking. Potions had ended maybe thirty minutes ago and there was another lesson Oliver should be in right now but he didn't care. He just walked. Somehow he wound up outside strolling the school's grounds. It was a gorgeous sunny day. A little cold out though. But Oliver didn't care. He just walked. He didn't even know where he was going.

He did know however, that of course he would help Marcus. Because even though Marcus had done nothing but hurt Oliver, even though Marcus had done nothing to deserve it, for some reason Oliver was still… what with Marcus?

Oliver didn't know what their relationship was anymore. They were no longer enemies. They weren't lovers. They weren't courting each other. But Oliver still felt… something for the older boy. He still wanted to help him. Because allowing Marcus to be expelled would mean that Oliver would possibly never see him again and Oliver couldn't even handle the thought of that.

He had to help Marcus. He was just a frightened boy who didn't know how to help himself. Oliver knew that the Slytherins' infamous cowardice is what had gotten Marcus into the mess in the first place. He'd run away from Oliver in the loo because he was afraid of his feelings. He was afraid to admit that he felt something for Oliver too. And he'd skived off those detentions because he was afraid to face Oliver afterwards. Of course Oliver would help him.

Oliver looked up and found himself standing outside the owlry. Even though his brain didn't know how to go approach this problem, apparently something in him did. It had led him here. Oliver would write Marcus a letter. That was a good place to start. Hogwarts' owls were brilliant so Oliver was certain that Marcus would receive it. Whether or not he would respond…

That thought almost made Oliver give up. But no… Oliver didn't have any other course of action. He stepped into the chilly owlry and received a couple of cheerful hoots from several of the owls, happy to be of service. Oliver avoided owl droppings as he made his way over to the other side of the small room where there was a scroll of parchment mounted on the wall, like muggles mounted their paper towels. Fortunately someone was brilliant enough to put a repelling charm on it or it would undoubtedly be covered in droppings.

Oliver ripped off a sufficient amount and fetched quill and ink from his bag. Then he leaned into the wall and decided to keep it short and simple. Most of everything he had to say needed to be said in person anyway.

Marcus,

I spoke with McGonagall and she told me everything. We have to talk. I can't help you if you keep avoiding me. Meet me at midnight tonight in the back of the library near the Restricted Section so we can talk this out.

Oliver

When Oliver crept away from Gryffindor tower that night, he was so quiet that even the portraits didn't hear him. He peeped around every corner. He wound up performing a lip lock curse on Peeves and a stunning spell on Mrs. Norris. Oliver refused to get caught. Tonight was an important night. He could feel it.

It was precisely midnight when Oliver charmed the library door unlocked and there was no sign of Marcus. What if he couldn't get away? What if just didn't come? Or worse. What if he didn't even read Oliver's letter? Oliver silently tipped over to their rendezvous and cast a precautionary silencing charm. Then by twenty after, he was sitting in the floor with his back against the bookshelf, almost in tears at how foolish he'd been when—

Oliver looked up… and there he was, standing there as if all those days had never happened. As if they were just preparing to serve another detention together. Without a word, Marcus squatted down and settled in a few feet away from Oliver, wrapping his arms around his knees. He'd brought his typical stiff demeanor with him, but Oliver could tell that he was only using it to hide his nerves.

Marcus peered around the dark aisle, the books and shelves illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through the wide windows. He looked at any and everything that wasn't Oliver.

Oliver had so many things he wanted to say to Marcus. But those thing were based on fury, from when Marcus was avoiding him. Things were different. Now that Oliver finally had the older boy in front of him, he didn't know where to begin.

"Thanks for coming." Oliver smiled weakly. That was a lame start but at least it was something.

Marcus finally turned his gaze to Oliver and simply glared at him for a second. Then, as if he were tired of fighting, he sighed and slumped his shoulders. "It's not like I had a choice. I can't keep avoiding you forever. I don't want to be expelled. I never wanted anyone to get into any trouble I just—"

"It's okay," Oliver said consolingly, scooting closer. A piece of his heart smiled when Marcus didn't scoot away. "I understand. You were just scared. Neither of us is going to get expelled. Okay? We can fix this."

"Why are you helping me?" Marcus frowned. "I've done nothing but hurt you."

"Because you need it." Oliver scooted forward again. If he reached his arm out, he could touch Marcus. "And because I… I don't understand it… but I like you. Like… I fancy you." Oliver stared the older boy in his eyes. It was so terrifying opening himself up like that. Still, Oliver slid even closer. He reached out for Marcus's hand and melted when Marcus allowed him to hold it. "I can't bare the thought of never seeing you again if you get expelled."

Marcus looked down at their fingers laced together like a surprised a child, like he couldn't believe it was happening. Then his voice came out in bemused whisper. "Really?" Oliver wasn't sure if he meant 'Are we really holding hands' or 'Do you you really feel that way', so he just smiled and nodded an agreement to both questions.

"Why did you kiss me Marcus?" Oliver's voice was so quiet. But with the silencing charm around them, it didn't matter. Every sound inside their little bubble was like a firework, a beautiful display for no one but the two of them. Oliver gazed into those penetrating silver eyes.

"Because I… I think I fancy you too. And that bloody terrifies me. I don't want to be a pansy."

"Then we won't call it that," Oliver assured him. "Honestly, I don't really know what we are anyway, but I want to explore this. I want to explore us." He watched Marcus, gauging his reaction. "And I want you to know that I forgive you."

Marcus sighed and pulled his hand away from Oliver's. He looked down at his knees. "I don't deserve your forgiveness."

Oliver's heart almost shattered. He reached out and gently gripped Marcus's chin, turning the older boy's head back to him. Then he took a brave step that could possibly shatter the moment they had and timidly leaned, gauging the older boy's reaction. When Marcus didn't flinch away, Oliver smiled and gently kissed the older boy. It was short, sweet, and tender.

"But you have it anyway," Oliver whispered. He gently pulled at Marcus's legs and the larger boy straightened them out for Oliver. Then Oliver straddled his lap and kissed him again.

Things became very hazy for Oliver after that. Marcus's lips seemed to have that effect on Oliver because he wasn't sure exactly when Marcus hands had found his arse, when they'd started to squeeze his cheeks. He wasn't exactly sure when he'd begun to grind into the older boy's lap. But he could feel their erections rubbing together through their trousers all the same.

"Mmngh… Oliver…" Oliver soaked it in. He soaked up his name coming from the older boy in a moan like that. Oliver smiled on his lips. Then their tongues touched and Oliver was melting. Marcus Flint was causing new feelings to arise in his body. Arousal at an intensity that Oliver had never felt before. Oliver didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he swiftly reached his hand down Marcus's trouser fronts, wrapping his hand around the thick shaft.

And Marcus was coming. Just like that, hard and heavy. "Ongh! Ungh! Oliver!" Marcus twitched and trembled beneath Oliver while, the white liquid poured out of him in torrents. Oliver could feel it pouring into his hand while he continued to pump Marcus's thick prick, pulling it out of him. It was the quietest most exciting climax Oliver had ever witnessed.

When Marcus completely spent himself, the two boys sat there in the aisle at the back of the library, panting and staring into each other's eyes. Oliver's hand still wrapped around Marcus's softening dick. Marcus bit the corner of his lower lip and Oliver thought it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen the boy do. Then Marcus fondled Oliver's still throbbing member through his trousers and reached for his waistband, fumbling with the fastenings.

"You don't have to do that," Oliver whispered.

"But I want to," Marcus whispered, rubbing Oliver through his trousers. He didn't even have to make skin contact. Oliver could feel it—

And he burst in his trousers, moaning Marcus's name. Then the two of them stared deeply at each other, silver and hazel. Had they really just done that?

Yes. Yes they had.