Chapter Seven: Get Your Pants Around Your Ankles!
"So what do you think?" Oliver said over his shoulder as they clambered down the stairs.
"To be honest," Harry said in a serious tone of voice. When he saw Oliver brace himself as though preparing to hear some bad news, Harry added in a chuckle, "…I was expecting there to be a lot more pirate stuff."
Oliver laughed at that and turned around to whack Harry playfully on the arm. "It's around I promise you," he chortled, "It's just, our old place was a lot smaller so their seemed to be a shit load more."
Harry doubted that, he'd seen very little pirate paraphernalia on his trip around the house and, he'd been looking. The odd painting here and the stuffed parrot in the study didn't really show Oliver and Jackson as having a pirate obsession in Harry's opinion.
While they'd been upstairs, more guests seemed to have arrived. The entrance hall which, had been relatively quiet when Harry and his friends got there, was now full of people. Oliver led Harry back into the billiard room and it too was much more crowded than before. Perhaps because it was where the bar was located Harry thought as he followed the other boy.
On the way to the bar, new comers who wanted to chat to Oliver stopped them countless times. Oliver would chat for a moment, thank them for coming and then make his excuses, dragging Harry along with him as he left. It took a while but they got there in the end and as Harry perched on the edge of a bar stool he could only watch in surprise as Oliver casually leapt over the counter.
"What can I get you?" Oliver grinned as he took up a spot behind the bar.
"A beer?"
"A beer? I don't think so Harry... You need something stronger and I'll tell you what I'll do for you," He said in a serious tone, though Harry could see his eyes sparkling with humor. "I'll make you one of my special drinks."
Doing his best to look at home behind the bar, Oliver pulled out a shaker and started adding various spirits. 'Not mixing one's drinks' apparently wasn't a motto Oliver lived by and Harry could only watch in alarm as Oliver added more and more to the mix. After four different spirits went in, Harry stopped counting. It was best not to know, though he predicted that Oliver's drink would taste revolting. He knew nothing about cocktails and the like, but he was fairly certain that if there were any rules to making them, Oliver had broken them all.
"Here you go, Mr. Potter," Oliver said, smiling triumphantly as he held out a glass to Harry.
Warily eyeing the brown concoction Harry muttered, "Thanks… I think." It looked more revolting than even the rankest of potions Professor Snape had had them make at school.
"Try it… It'll put hairs on your chest," Oliver said, watching Harry with amusement.
"That's if it doesn't kill me," said Harry quietly. "Perhaps you should go first?" He added hopefully, pointing to glass sitting on the counter in front of Oliver.
"We'll do it together," Oliver said, picking up the glass and looking expectantly at Harry.
It was a challenge Harry realized. He couldn't work out what it was in aid of, or what Oliver would do if he didn't drink the thing, and he wasn't about to find out. Grimacing, Harry raised his glass.
"Cheers," Oliver said, clicking his glass against Harry's.
Remembering that a rather large percentage of taste was the smell, Harry carefully avoided breathing as he brought the glass to his lips. Opening his mouth, he let the liquid in and he'd barely managed to swallow a mouthful before he started to splutter. He winced as the bitter taste seeped onto his tongue. "God, its even worse then I expected."
"Its not that bad actually Harry," Oliver laughed. Harry looked up to find Oliver calmly sipping the drink. "Jackson and I make these sorts of drinks all the time and I have to tell you, this tastes like pumpkin juice compared to some of the drinks we've made."
Harry seriously doubted anything could possibly taste worse. He'd tried various rocket fuel recipes in his youth and none of them even came close to Oliver's demon drink.
"You have to finish it Harry… or you're not getting anything else," Oliver teased. When Harry looked up as if to say he didn't mind, Oliver glared. "Don't wuss out on me Harry," he said in that Quidditch Captains voice Harry remembered.
Harry whispered a quiet "Come on, Harry" for motivation, and ignoring Oliver's laughter he downed the drink in two big gulps. He managed to by pass his taste buds completely but the alcohol settled in his stomach like a brick and he retched as he put the glass back on the counter.
"Here," Oliver smiled and slid a glass of water to Harry, "Drink that, I don't want you chucking…. and then we're back on the heavier stuff."
Oh great, Harry thought, Oliver thought he was piss weak 'and' he would have to drink another of Oliver's brews.
"Don't look at me like that," Oliver chuckled, "We'll stick to normal drinks from now on," he added, smiling reassuringly at Harry. "Tequila okay?"
Busy drinking his much needed glass of water, Harry nodded dumbly. Oliver quickly collected the things they needed to have tequila shots. He came back carrying a tub of lemons, two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila, which he had balanced in the crook of his arm. "Grab the salt," Oliver muttered; nodding his head towards the shaker on the counter, "We'll go sit over by Ron. The other couch is free."
After picking up the salt, Harry politely squeezed a path through the crowded room until he managed to reach Ron's corner. His best friend hadn't moved the whole time they'd been away. He was still sandwiched between his idols – though there were now only three of them – and he seemed to be having the time of his life. Ron waved at Harry but seemed far too interested in the story the boy next to him was telling to pay much attention to Harry and Oliver.
Oliver sat in the center of the couch and Harry was left to decide whether he wanted to be squished on the left or right. It wasn't a bad choice to have to make, either way he'd be sitting closer to Oliver than necessary. Harry chose the side closet to him, sinking down gratefully onto the comfortable couch.
As Oliver wriggled in the couch to get comfortable, positioning the various ingredients for the drink just so and looking for the entire world as if he'd settled for the night, a horrible thought suddenly occurred to Harry. What if Oliver was just staying with him out of some misguided sense of duty? Before he could stop himself, Harry blurted, "You don't have to stay with me you know? I'll be fine by myself."
Oliver eyebrow shot up in surprise and then he smiled, "Are you trying to get rid of me, Harry?" He said in a deep voice.
"No," Harry laughed. Getting rid of Oliver was the very last thing he wanted to do but he didn't want to be responsible for ruining the other boy's night. "There's heaps of people here though, I don't want to hog all your time."
"I see them all the time," Oliver scoffed rolling his eyes, indicating he thought little of Harry's reasoning. "Anyway, I spoke to most of them before you got here, which was quite late, mind you." His face took on a serious look as he continued, "I thought you weren't going to come."
Harry's heart skipped a beat and when he spoke his voice came out in a croaky whisper. "Don't be silly, I wouldn't have missed this for anything."
"Good." Oliver said simply. "Now we're going to get pissed and you can tell me all about yourself."
As Oliver poured the shots, Harry glanced around the room quickly. He saw Fred standing with a group of boy's in the far corner. With rude gestures, he seemed to be recounting some lurid tale to the boy's who were all incredibly amused by his antics. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if he found out Fred was trying to convince them all to go back to his place.
"Here," Oliver said, winking at Harry as he handed him the shot glass.
Harry licked the salt off the back of his hand, took the shot in one gulp and followed up by quickly sucking on one of the lemons. He gasped happily as he put the glass on the coffee table. Harry rarely drank tequila but he liked the fiery sensation it provided in his gut.
Once the first shot was out of the way, the boy's set about getting reacquainted. It was strange at first because even though they 'knew' each other from Hogwarts, they quickly realized they both knew very little about the other. While they'd been at school, they'd been at totally different life stages. Harry had just been a kid and Oliver had tended to talk down to him at the time.
Even though their life styles still differed drastically, it was different, and Harry found they could converse as adults. Surprisingly (for Harry at least), Oliver seemed genuinely interested in the things he had to say. As time passed, Harry found himself becoming comfortable in the other boy's presence and he was able to speak more freely.
Every so often they would take another shot, though Harry forced himself to stop at five. Even if he could take a potion in the morning, he didn't want a hang over. Nor did he want to be held responsible for what he might say to Oliver, lest he get drunk and his mouth developed a mind of its own. Oliver however, didn't seem to care about hangovers. Sometimes one or the other of the boys (usually Oliver) would have to make a mad dash for the bathroom, leaving the other behind to guard the couch.
During one such intermission, Harry was waiting patiently for Oliver to return when Fred came over for a chat. The way Fred sauntered across the room, looking at him with a knowing look, immediately set Harry on his guard and he was completely unsurprised by the first thing to come out of Fred's mouth.
"What's up with you and Oliver?" Fred asked excitedly as he perched himself in Harry's lap.
Harry sighed, "Nothings going on, we're just talking…"
"Just talking?" Fred screeched. "Do I look like an idiot?" He glared at Harry, when the black haired boy nodded his head in response. "He wants you, Harry."
"It's not like that Fred. We're just catching up," Harry said, not mentioning the part about how much he wished Oliver wanted him…
"Oh look, he's coming back," Fred said, snuggling into to Harry's chest. When Harry looked up, he saw that Fred was right. Oliver was pushing his way through the crowd and scowling in their direction as he moved. "Look how jealous he is that I'm sitting in your lap," Fred giggled and he made a show of running his hands through Harry's hair. Harry has to admit Oliver 'did' look a little piqued. Perhaps Fred was right, Harry thought hopefully. Maybe he did stand a chance with the other boy.
"Fred," Oliver said curtly as he reclaimed his seat next to Harry.
"Oliver!" Fred said, making no attempt to hide his amusement at the situation.
In an unsubtle attempt to get rid of Fred, Oliver said pointedly, "I think Jackson's looking for you."
"Oh is he? I better go find him then." Fred winked at Oliver in an exaggerated manner. "I'll see you two later," He added, hopping off Harry's lap. Harry could hear his friend's laughter as he walked away, leaving Harry and Oliver in silence.
"So…." Harry started and he searched his mind for something to say.
As Oliver turned to look at him Harry noticed the tenseness about his face eased. "Do you want to play billiards?" Oliver smiled.
He wasn't sure what he had been expecting Oliver to say but it certainly hadn't been that. "Umm sure," Harry said slowly. "I'm not very good though," he added, following Oliver to the billiard table.
"Good. Let's make a bet then," Oliver grinned over his shoulder. "I'm not very good either."
Harry wasn't fooled for a minute. He might be particularly bad at billiards but he wasn't an idiot; he could spot a pool shark a mile away. Deciding to keep his final answer till after he knew what was at stake, Harry asked warily, "What are the terms?"
"Loser has to run about the table ten times with their pants around their ankles!"
Oliver smiled at him as if he was expecting Harry to say no, which was quite funny really because that was the most immediate response that came to mind. As much as he wanted to see Oliver do it, he certainly didn't want to have to run around the table on display. And the chances of him loosing were 99.99 reoccurring percent.
"Do I get to keep my boxers on?"
"So sure you're going to lose?" Oliver laughed. "Yes, just the jeans will do." He stared at Harry intently and asked in a quiet voice, "Are we on or not?"
How could Harry refuse when Oliver looked at him like that? He couldn't and he felt himself nod, "Okay, rack them up."
Once the game was set up and the boy's had selected their cues, they started to play. Oliver kindly let Harry break but he didn't sink anything. Unsurprisingly, Oliver was the first to succeed, sinking one of the striped balls on his first shot, leaving Harry to play the solids. They quickly drew a crowd and unfortunately almost everyone watching seemed to be on Oliver's side. Harry prayed that they would lose interest before he lost the game. How he expected to run around the table with his pants around his ankles and for no one to notice, one could only guess.
Oliver sent three balls rocketing into the pockets before Harry was even able to sink his first. When he finally managed to sink one, Harry cheered for himself like he had won the game. Oliver smiled happily at Harry, though he also looked entirely unconcerned. Obviously he still expected to win.
While Oliver played his next shot, Fred came over to congratulate Harry. He teased Harry playfully for a moment, before leaving Harry to his 'male bonding' as Fred put it. What Harry didn't see was that when Fred got back to the group he'd been with before, he took out his wand and muttered something under his breath as he pointed at Harry's cue stick. However, Harry did notice that he got good all of a sudden and he thought God must have decided to help him out. Either that or God wanted to see Oliver's pants as badly as Harry did…
"Harry, are you cheating?" Oliver demanded amusedly after watching Harry sink five balls in a row. Harry now had only one ball left to pocket while Oliver still had two.
"No," Harry said honestly, "I think I'm just getting the hang of it." He grinned happily at Oliver as he lined up for his next shot. Miraculously, as far as Harry was concerned, the ball slid into a corner pocket. "Yes," Harry said pumping his fist triumphantly. All he had to do was sink the eight ball to win the game.
"Now I know you're cheating!"
"You're just scared now," Harry chuckled, "And you should be, I'm on fire here!"
Just as Harry was preparing to hit the ball, Oliver bent over to tie up his shoe. No amount of magic in the world could counter the effect that sight had on Harry. He didn't know if Oliver had done it on purpose (which would be very embarrassing) or if it was just his bad luck that Oliver should need to tie his shoe at the most crucial point of the game. Either way, Harry's cue skittled over the top of the white ball sending it all of six millimeters across the table.
Harry heard Fred snort loudly and he shot the boy a death glare.
Oliver stood up and looked at the table quickly. When he saw the eight ball still on the table he smiled at Harry. "How could you miss that, Harry?"
Well at least Harry knew now that Oliver hadn't done it on purpose. He'd wondered because Oliver had seemed to be waving his arse. Who did that while they tied up a shoe?
Harry watched nervously as Oliver sunk his remaining two easily, leaving him with just the eight ball. "Scared now, Harry?" Smirking at Harry, Oliver bent over the table. He gave the white ball a soft nudge and it ghosted over the table, lightly tapping the other ball in the direction of the side pocket. As the ball teetered on the edge, Oliver put up his hands ready for the win. He could only stare in disbelief when the ball didn't fall.
"Thanks for lining it up for me Oliver," Harry giggled. "Not even I can miss it from here." And he didn't, he gave the ball the barest of taps and the black ball fell into the pocket, leaving the white ball alone on the table.
"I don't believe it," Oliver whispered.
"Pants, Mr. Wood," Harry quirked, feeling more confident now.
"I still say you cheated," Oliver huffed though he was smiling good-naturedly at Harry.
With his eyes on Harry, Oliver undid the button on his jeans and slowly lowered the zip. There could be no mistaking that; Oliver was definitely flirting with him Harry realised. Mesmerised by Oliver, Harry gulped as Oliver let the jeans fall to his calves, revealing navy blue boxer shorts and pair of tanned legs. Those still watching laughed at Oliver but Harry couldn't even offer a smile. He was having a terrible time trying to control his pulse rate, not to mention his downstairs was tweaking with interest.
Amidst catcalls from his friends, Oliver started his trek around the table. Every time he passed Harry he would give him the most charming smile. After about five laps, most people lost interest in their bet, retuning to whatever they'd been doing before the show started. Harry however, couldn't take his eyes off Oliver.
Oliver finished his last lap, drawing to a halt in front of Harry. "How about a rematch," Oliver grinned, still with his pants around his ankles. Gorgeous though the sight was, Harry wished the boy would pull up his pants.
"Sure," Harry practically panted. He would play Oliver again, though he could think of at least a hundred other 'games' they could play.
"I'll win this time," Oliver promised as he bent over to pull up his pants.
"I see you're wearing the boxers I gave you," a silky voice purred from behind them. Harry spun around and Oliver stood quickly.
Where the fuck did she come from, Harry wondered bitterly.
There in all her revolting glory, was the woman from the week before. Siobhan. Harry hadn't seen her all night and she had to show up just when things with Oliver looked promising.
"What are you doing here?" Oliver asked and there was a slight edge to his voice.
"You invited me, silly," She giggled, tittering slightly on ridiculously high, high-heels. Somehow she managed to get to Oliver and ignoring Harry's presence completely, she tried to plant a kiss on Oliver's lips. She didn't get very far as Oliver stepped back, putting a hand on her shoulder to keep her at bay.
Oliver exhaled sharply as though he was trying to calm his anger. "What are you doing here?" He repeated slowly.
Anger flashed across her face at Oliver's rejection. "There's no need to ask what you're doing is there?" She sent a hateful glance in Harry's direction before turning furious eyes back to Oliver.
Feeling like he was intruding a little, Harry took a step back from the 'happy' couple. He couldn't help noticing she looked entirely unattractive when her claws came out.
"Harry Potter, for fuck's sake," She snapped viciously at Oliver.
"Shut up," he hissed back just as viciously. Taking her roughly by the arm, Oliver dragged her across the room until they were out of Harry's hearing range.
Harry tried not to stare but he found himself unable to look away. He found the whole thing very strange and he couldn't for the life of him work out what was going on between the two. Were they a couple? Why hadn't she been there all night? Harry was fairly certain she had only just arrived because he certainly hadn't seen her and she didn't strike him as the type to leave Oliver alone for long.
He smiled gratefully at Fred when the boy came over to stand at his side, "I told you he had a girlfriend."
"Please," Fred scoffed. "He doesn't look very happy to see her does he? She's just another one of those stupid, skanky girls who thinks she can change him," Fred said bitterly.
Well that made Oliver sound really nice, Harry thought sadly. His thoughts must have shown on his face because Fred quickly explained what he meant.
"He always tells them that he's just in it for the fun and most of the time the girls are okay with it. Fucking a Quidditch star is enough for most of them. But that one," Fred shot a contemptuous look in Siobhan's direction, "she wants his money and she'll do anything to get her greedy hands on it."
"What about boys? Does he treat them the same?" Harry asked curiously.
"He hasn't really been with that many boys lately," Fred explained quietly, "But I don't think he encounters the same problems with the boys…"
They stood in silence, watching Oliver and Siobhan as they argued. Oliver looked incredibly annoyed with her and from what they could tell; she seemed to be trying to coax him into thinking otherwise. Gradually Oliver's reserves crumbled, his anger subsided and he looked tired and then simply defeated, as she continued to simper all over him. When she kissed him again and Oliver responded this time, Harry wanted to go over and smack her one.
"Robbed in the final hour," Fred mused at his side and he patted Harry comfortingly on the back.
Fred didn't even know that it was twice now that she had taken Oliver away just when he dared to think something might happen. That's what you get for hoping, that nasty little voice at the back of his mind reminded.
"I told you Fred, we were just hanging out," Harry mumbled, feeling the need to stick to his story.
"Harry, I'm not daft you know?" Fred said, looking down at Harry sadly. "I don't know what that idiots doing now but he wants you."
Harry looked from Fred to the kissing couple, raising his eyebrow skeptically.
"Well grow some balls, Harry! Go over there and put that bitch back in her place. You know he was pissed off when she got here and that she's just whined her way back into his bed. Tomorrow he'll tell her to fuck off, but if you went over there now, he'd do it a hell of a lot quicker…"
As far as pep talks went, it was a good one. Had Harry been anyone else, he would have marched straight over to Oliver, whipped the wench from his arms and kissed him passionately. However, he was Harry. He just couldn't go through with Fred's suggestion. His mind focused on the 'what ifs'. Oliver had seemed to be flirting with him and Harry could have sworn he was interested in him (why else would he spend all night in his company?) but Harry couldn't help thinking that he had read the signs wrong. And if the way she was kissing him was any indication, Oliver didn't seem to mind having her back in his life.
"Are you going over there or not?" Fred prompted. Harry shook his head. "Right! Leave it with me then, I'll sort him out for you…" He looked as though he was preparing to go into battle.
"No, Fred! Don't say anything to him," Harry said quickly. He had been down that road before and when Fred played the matchmaker it only lead to embarrassment.
"Calm down, Harry, I'll be discreet," Fred said, apparently not getting that Harry was being deadly serious. He didn't want Fred to help.
"Fred, I don't even like him so don't you dare say anything," Harry said, his voice coming out in a whine.
"You're a terrible liar Harry," Fred chuckled, "Don't worry just leave it to me." He patted Harry reassuringly and walked away quickly.
"Shit," Harry muttered to himself. He contemplated going after Fred but he decided feeling the scene was a much better alternative. Feeling incredibly worried about what Fred would say, Harry disapparated out Oliver's house without so much as a good bye to anyone.
