For once, Oliver wasn't looking forward to the holidays. Kind of. Of course he missed his parents and wanted to see them, and of course he was looking forward to the lack of schoolwork, but it also meant two weeks without Marcus. Oliver barely saw him as it was. The clandestine meetings were slowly beginning to grow annoying to Oliver. He had to constantly remind himself that in a few more months they would both be finished with Hogwarts and they'd be able to go wherever they pleased whenever they pleased.
It was Marcus who suggested it. On the Friday morning before vacation where they sat on the floor cuddled up in their spot. Oliver wanted to shag like something fierce, considering this would probably be their last opportunity before they were separated for half a month, but Marcus only wanted to talk. If that's what made him happy, then that was enough for Oliver. He sat in between the older boy's legs, wrapped in his arms.
"So what are you doing for your break?" Marcus asked.
"The usual," Oliver responded. He caressed the back of Marcus's hand with his index finger. "We'll go to Birmingham and spend the two weeks with me mum's parents. Nothing too exciting; it's the same every year. What will you do?"
There was a short pause. Short, yes, but so long that Oliver stopped stroking. He'd almost decided to turn and look at Marcus. Was something wrong?
"I was thinking of spending the holidays with you," Marcus finally responded tentatively. Oliver froze as the words settled into his brain. Vacation with Marcus? Oliver hadn't even considered it. But the thought of it sounded brilliant. Oliver pictured them alone at an inn somewhere. They could be together all day, without worry of anyone seeing them. Oliver turned to stare Marcus in his eyes.
"Are you serious?" he whispered.
"Very. We could go to Amsterdam," Marcus persuaded, mistaking Oliver's question for hesitation. "Or Paris? How's your Italian? Rome, Milan, Venice. Verona?"
As pleasant at it all sounded, reality pushed the fantasies away. "I can't do that, Marcus," Oliver replied despondently. "My parents would wonder why I chose to spend my holidays with a boy instead of with them. Won't yours?" Oliver stared at the floor despondently. "And we can't explain it."
"Then we won't tell them." Marcus said it as if it were the simplest solution and he was surprised that Oliver didn't think of it. "We'll go home, drop off our trunks, and slip off in the middle of the night. Face the consequences when we get back. You forget that I've been apparating for over a year. I'm much better at it than you. I can take us all over Europe."
"Marcus," Oliver sighed. "I can't do that to my parents. Yes, I'm seventeen and technically I'm an adult. But still, I can't just disappear on them. They'd be worried sick."
Marcus was quiet for a second, and then, "It's okay." He kissed the top of Oliver's head. "I just didn't want to spend two weeks away from you."
Oliver squeezed Marcus's hand. "I don't want to either but—"
Marcus silenced him with a sideways kiss. "It's okay. Really. I'll see you when you get back." And that was the end of the conversation. They held each other a little longer until they heard Madam Pince rustle awake for the day.
—
The train ride the next morning was miserable. When he met his parents on the platform he hugged them both, but it was half hearted. Try as he may, Oliver couldn't shake his despondency. It followed him to Birmingham and stuck with him.
On the third day, Mrs. Wood kindly confronted him. She found Oliver sitting alone in her parents' snow filled garden.
"It's cold out here," she said. "Why don't you come inside?"
Oliver kicked at the snow. "I'll be in in a moment. I just want to think."
Mrs. Wood sighed and smiled at her son. She lowered herself on the bench next to him. "So. What's his name?"
"Excuse me?" Oliver's eyebrows almost touched each other. Had he heard correctly?
Her smile grew larger and more loving. "You've been moping around since you came home, love. Staring off in the distance. I watched you grow up and I've been where you are. I know that face. I know you." She took her son's hands into her own "What's his name?"
"You don't care?" Oliver asked tentatively. His mother was so observant. Of course she'd figured him out. "You don't care that he's… that's he's a he?"
"No," she smiled. "I still love you all the same. It's not my place to judge. You want to be with him right now, don't you?"
Oliver looked down at their hands timidly. Then he nodded solemnly. "I want to be here, too. I do. But mum it hurts being away from him. I'm already counting down the days until we're together again."
Mrs. Wood frowned with concern. "How long have you been seeing him?"
"A couple of months. Almost three," Oliver answered.
She moaned an understanding moan, a sound that only a mother could make. "Mngh… So things are getting serious?"
"Yes, mum," Oliver replied sincerely. It felt good to admit that to someone. He wasn't sure, but it sounded like his mother was asking if he was having sex or not. So Oliver added a little more. "I love him. I love him a lot."
"Oh wow… It is serous." Mrs. Woods stared at her son with wide eyes for a moment, and Oliver took it that she understood completely. Then she regained her composure and smiled again. "Well I want to meet this boy." Oliver was sure that she wouldn't after she found out who he was. "But until then, you should go to him. I hate seeing you like this."
Oliver stared at his mother amazed. "Really?"
"Yes. Go. I'll explain to your father."
"But you don't even know who he is. Or where I'm going."
She cradled her son's face. "It doesn't matter. I trust your judgment."
Oliver pulled his mother into his arms. He never fathomed that she would be so understanding. "I love you so much mum."
"And I love you. Now go. Before your father catches wind of this. And be safe." Oliver wasn't sure if she meant be physically safe or be sexually safe. But he wasn't going to ask.
"I'll come back before the break ends," he promised. "Thank you mum." They gave each other one last parting smile and Oliver turned on the spot, vanishing.
After the compressing feeling of being squeezed through a tube, Oliver's feet slammed onto the bricked walkway of Diagon Alley. He hastily checked himself over, then smiled and exhaled deeply when he found that he had just completed his third successful apparition. The first few times had been... Oliver shuddered at the memory, then set a quick pace for Gringotts. He didn't know exactly where, but he knew that the Flint's residence was in London, so after grabbing a few Galleons, he would kip with Tom until he could find Marcus.
It was surprisingly easy. Oliver only had to pay for one night at the Leaky Cauldron—though he and Marcus still made good use of the bed. All it took was a silver patronus message and Marcus was knocking on the door of Oliver's room a half an hour later.
Oliver shoved himself so far inside the larger boy, he felt like his prick would get lost in him. They laughed—laughed when their neighbors bammed on the wall and yelled for them to quiet down. When he spent himself inside of Marcus and Marcus all over the sheets, they cuddled up next to each other in the small bed, and Oliver smiled. He felt like his vacation had finally begun.
—
Marcus took them to Dublin first. They went shopping for muggle clothes, assuming they posed less a chance of running into someone they knew if they spent most of their time in the muggle world. They discovered how wrong they were at pub in the lower parts of the city where Marcus spotted a few of their classmates. The two of them made a hasty exit. After that, Oliver seemed to spot familiar faces everywhere. Hannah Abbott in a plaza, Alicia Spinnett at an eatery. Marcus decided that maybe they were a little too close to home.
So Marcus took them to Milan. They had a candlelit dinner at a gay friendly restaurant in a romantic part of town. Holding Marcus's hand in public, kissing him without worrying that people would gawk or insult them was more than anything Oliver could ask for.
Marcus took them to Barcelona after that. The city was crawling with excitement and there was plenty of things to do. Oliver learned that Marcus was a pretty decent dancer. Marcus learned that Oliver was terrible. The two of them didn't stay there long though because neither of them could speak Spanish very well.
Oliver made one of his best memories on a beach in Bari. It was cold, so there was no one else out. Oliver laid a blanket out and Marcus performed a simple heating charm. Then Oliver let Marcus top him for the first time. Marcus was so tender with him, a gentle giant but stretching him open all the same, so deep inside of him.
Oliver didn't know what he'd been so afraid of. Marcus's long, thick dick slid smoothly into Oliver, nice and deep like it was meant to be there. He could feel the thick monster pulsating while it slid in and out of him, stretching him open impossibly wide, and he loved every bit of it. Oliver enjoyed himself, yes. But Oliver enjoyed the fact that he was pleasuring Marcus more. That it was him making the masculine man on top of him moan that way. He wrapped his arms and legs around Marcus, letting the older boy have all of him. The best part was when Marcus squirmed and released his heavy load so deep inside all over it would probably take days to get it out.
They went to Bologna, Genoa, and all of the southern French coast. Then they slowly made their way back to London, stopping in La Rochelle, Nantes, Southampton. And throughout their voyage, they learned a lot about each other.
Oliver discovered that Marcus was a very neat and clean person. He folded his clothes whenever he took them off for a shower and he washed his hands several times a day. He didn't quite fit the stereotype that Oliver had for Slytherins and his organization could get a little compulsive and annoying at times. But Oliver still loved him all the same.
Marcus discovered that when Quidditch wasn't involved, Oliver would go two, sometimes three days without showering. He would just change clothes, apply antiperspirants and go about his day. It annoyed Marcus to an unfamiliar level of intensity. Sometimes he would force Oliver to wash up before they shagged, refusing to let Oliver touch him until he was clean. But Marcus was still madly in love with him. As their break ended, they were both honestly a little sad to go back to school.