Chapter Thirteen: "The Date"

Shifting agitatedly in his seat, Harry drummed his fingers impatiently on the kitchen table. Although it was still only twenty to seven, Harry was already dressed for his date and he was just beginning to realise what a mistake it had been to get ready so early. There was absolutely nothing for him to do for the next twenty minutes. All he could do was wait for Oliver to arrive. Well, that and worry. As he sat there watching Ron eating his dinner, Harry couldn't help imaging all the things that could go wrong on his date.

Ron stared at him from across the table; he had his fork paused half way to his mouth and a thoughtful look on his face. "It's funny seeing you like this."

"Like what?" Harry asked, glancing down to see if there was anything wrong with his clothes.

"So nervous…"

"Oh…"

Nervous. Yes, he was nervous. He couldn't actually remember having ever felt this nervous before. The very last thing he wanted to do was mess thing's up with Oliver.

"You really like him, don't you?"

"Yes," Harry groaned, banging his head down on the table.

Ron chuckled at Harry's dramatic behaviour though he did also manage to say reassuringly, "Harry, it will be fine… He spent all day here yesterday for Merlin's sake, I think its pretty safe to say he likes you."

Harry didn't bother to reply, he wasn't up to the effort. He would find out soon enough if Ron was right and although he hoped so, he couldn't feel as confident as his best friend. Things may have gone well with Oliver the day before but Harry was very aware that that was yesterday. Anything could have happened since then! Oliver might have met someone amazing overnight or Siobhan, the evil demon, could have wormed her way back into his life. The possibilities were endless and Harry wanted things to work out so badly, he couldn't help fretting.

Surprisingly, just about the only thing Harry wasn't worrying over was his appearance and that was only because Fred had popped over earlier to help Harry get ready. Although the older boy had proved to be a bit of a nuisance, teasing Harry about 'the date', he had ended up helping. He'd selected a very nice outfit for Harry, combing a white shirt with a pair of blue corduroys, making sure that Harry felt comfortable and looked good. As usual his hair was a messy mass of dark locks that jutted out a peculiar angles but Harry knew that Oliver liked it that way so he didn't worry about it. Before he left, Fred had assured Harry that he was looking very shaggable indeed. Harry hoped so because if things went well at dinner because he was really looking forward to the after dinner entertainment.

"It's pretty funny though, don't you reckon?" Ron asked after a while.

"What's funny?"

"You and Oliver."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"Well, he's a big time Quidditch star, Harry," Ron said, excitedly. "I was talking about it with Lavender last night and she said, if you start going out with Oliver you'll get to go to all the important events he gets invited to because he's famous and you'll have to get dressed up a lot, be the pretty piece of fluff at his side…"

"Shut up, Ron," Harry groaned. Being Oliver's piece of fluff didn't sound too bad but Harry would much prefer to be it in private.

Ron laughed and little pieces of his dinner shot out his mouth to land on the table. "That's really gross, Ron," Harry said, looking down at the table in distaste.

"Sorry, couldn't help it… And I was just teasing, Harry."

"I know," Harry murmured. He flicked his gaze to Ron's plate. Harry couldn't be sure, Ron definitely wasn't the best cook around and it did look more like scrambled eggs, but his friend seemed to be having an omelette. "Does that taste any good?"

"Surprisingly, it tastes quite nice. It does look a sight though, doesn't it?" Ron said, grinning as he looked down at his plate.

Harry reached over to pinch a piece off Ron's plate and popped it in his mouth. It didn't taste too bad at all, Harry decided as he swallowed the mouthful. "What are you doing tonight?" He asked, reaching for a serviette so he could wipe his fingers.

"Lavender is coming over…" Ron paused when the warning siren sounded, alerting them to the immanent arrival of Harry's date.

"Ohhh," he cooed teasingly, but he quickly got up from the table and picked up his plate. "I'll leave you to it." He patted Harry encouragingly on the back and, before Oliver could see him, Ron and the half eaten dinner scurried out to the lounge.

Left alone, Harry took a deep, calming breath and turned slightly so he could see the fireplace. He'd wanted to assume a casual look before Oliver arrived, so the other boy wouldn't think him too desperate, but as the fire in the hearth turned green, Harry felt his heart leap into his chest, and he realised he'd have to settle for looking like an overly excited kid instead. Next moment Harry's excitement doubled because Oliver appeared, landing perfectly in the kitchen, looking unruffled and gorgeous in a pair of black pants and a leather jacket that was zipped almost to the top.

"Hello, Harry," Oliver said in a deep voice that literally shot straight to Harry's nether regions.

"Hi," he said and although his voice came out slightly squeaky, he managed not to blush for once. Thank Christ for small mercies, he thought as he got up from the table.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Oliver, brown eyes travelling appreciatively over Harry's body.

"Yeah, I'm ready." Harry shrugged on his denim jacket, making sure it hung nicely around his shirt. "Where are we going?"

"I can't tell you that, it's a surprise," Oliver said mysteriously. "But I can tell you, we need to apparate to Piccadilly," Oliver said, lifting his eyebrows and smirking at Harry.

Harry had no idea what that look was meant to be but it too shot straight to his nether regions…

___

"It wasn't really a surprise," Oliver grinned sheepishly, a little while later. "I was just trying to make it sound exciting."

"It's nice though," Harry said, glancing around the room with a smile on his face. Oliver had taken them to a small, Italian restaurant where they had managed to get a very cosy table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. The place had a warm, informal atmosphere and Harry felt very comfortable being there with Oliver.

"I like it here. My cousin brought me years ago and I've been coming back ever since," – Which explained why the owner, a small excitable man named Gino, had greeted Oliver like he was a long lost relative – "We wouldn't get any peace and quiet at a restaurant in our world so I thought I'd bring you to the muggle one instead. I didn't think you'd want to end up in the gossip columns."

Oliver was right on that account; Harry did hate appearing in the media in any shape or form. However, Harry knew that if Oliver did ever want to take him to a wizarding restaurant, he would gladly go anyway. Oliver was too special (sexy) to let an annoying thing like the media get in the way.

"Do they photograph you a lot when you're out?"

"All the bloody time! Haven't you seen me in the Daily Prophet? I get in the society pages more than I do the sports," Oliver groaned.

"I don't really read that bit! I just check the front page, make sure nothing terrible has happened and then skip straight to the sport." Harry laughed as though he'd just revealed something shocking.

"So I should cross current events off my list of discussion topics?"

"Something like that," Harry agreed.

They continued to chat about everything and nothing until Gino returned to tease Oliver and, almost as an afterthought, to take their orders. Both Harry and Oliver ended up ordering the exact same thing, lasagne followed by ice cream and after Gino left again, they picked up their conversation easily. As they chatted, waiting for their meals to arrive, Harry realised it had been silly of him to worry about their date going badly. They really were very compatible, having many share interests and opinions. 

"Thanks, Gino," Oliver said happily, when the small man returned with their meals.

"I don't mean to boast, Oliver," Gino said as he placed a large plate of food in front of the boy. "I think I've excelled myself this time."

"Doesn't your wife do all the cooking?" Oliver grinned at the man cheekily. Far from being embarrassed, Gino waved Oliver's comment aside as if it were of no importance and set Harry plate on the table. "There you are, Harry."

"Er- Thanks," Harry said, eyes nearly bulging out his head. On his plate was the most enormous serving of lasagne he'd ever seen. Harry knew instantly that there was no way he would be able to eat it all without exploding and he decided to undo the top button of his trousers in preparation.

"Enjoy," Gino smirked devilishly and then he scurried away.

"Don't worry, you don't have to eat it all," Oliver said, looking in open amusement at Harry, who still looked somewhat shocked. "Gino always gives me heaps and what I don't eat, I get to take home in a doggy bag."

"Oh good," Harry sighed, relieved. "I didn't want to have to hurt his feelings but there is no way I can eat all this… I think even Hagrid would have trouble finish this lot."

Fork in hand, Oliver gestured at Harry's plate. "Try it."

Harry picked up his knife and fork, cutting for himself a small chunk. As he lifted his fork to his mouth, steam ghosted out the lasagne and he had to blow on it, cooling it down a little, before he could pop it in him mouth. When he did, Harry gave a small moan of appreciation. It was rich and almost creamy.

"It's delicious!" Harry said once he'd swallowed the mouthful. 

"It's the best." Oliver agreed. "I actually had this last night as well but my mums version is no where near as nice."

"Oh, that's right, you had your family dinner last night. How was it? Did you have a nice time?" Harry popped another forkful in his mouth, chewing as he listened to the other boy speak.

"It was okay, eventually," Oliver said and he grinned at Harry. "I was in a lot of trouble when I arrived because, thanks to you, I ended up getting there quite late."

"Sorry," Harry said with a little chuckle, though he didn't feel in the least sorry.

"You will be," – Harry's head snapped up at those ominous words – "I can't lie to my mum, directly, and she wouldn't forgive me for being late till I told her all where I'd been. So I said I'd been hanging out with you and now she's expecting you to come to dinner."

"I'd be happy to meet your mum again," Harry said, remembering that he'd briefly met her at the Quidditch world cup, though he couldn't remember much about her.

"You say that now but wait till you meet her," Oliver said in warning and when he continued speaking it was in a strange, girlish voice. "Oh, little Harry… How is he?"

Harry laughed at the boy's impersonation, he had no idea if it was accurate or not but it was funny.  "She wouldn't call me little Harry to my face would she?" 

"Probably. She still calls me her baby boy…"

As they continued to eat their dinner, Harry learnt all sorts of things about Oliver's family. The boy seemed to be very close to his mother, though Harry didn't think it went to such an extent one would call Oliver a mummy's boy. The older boy seemed to be fairly self-sufficient. He had two sisters, Sarah and Brigitte, both of them much older than he was and neither was married. Harry got the impression that Oliver's relationship with his father was tense. The older boy didn't have much to say about the man, except that he worked at the Ministry of magic and that he'd always wanted Oliver to play professional Quidditch.

Once they'd eaten what they could of their meal and gobbled down their desert, Oliver asked for the bill and in a matter of minutes, they were leaving the restaurant with their doggy bags in hand. It was cold outside and, even though the street was rather quiet, Oliver and Harry back up against the wall, keeping out of the way, just in case anyone came along the pavement.

"Do you want to come back to my place for a bit?" Oliver asked, nervously and his cheeks tinged a light pink colour. "We can… play Playstation, or something…"

"Sure," Harry said, hoping they could skip straight to the something. He loved the console tremendously but he would gladly bypass it to get to what he hoped would be the shagging. He'd been dreaming about it for weeks and he didn't even want to think about their evening ending any other way.

"We'll go down there to apparate," Oliver said, pointing at an alley across the road. "No one will see us there."

_____

As soon as they got back to Oliver's place, the older boy decided they needed some coffee, so they headed straight for the kitchen. Harry didn't particularly want any but he thought it might be rude to refuse.

Making coffee at Oliver house, turned out to be considerably easier than at his house. All Oliver did was mutter what he wanted into a strange cone shaped object that lived on the kitchen bench and it seemed to do the rest. The kettle flew over to the kitchen sink and the tap magically started to run, filling the kettle with water. Two mugs zipped out of one of the kitchen cabinets and Harry had to duck his head slightly, to avoid getting hit when they whizzed through the air to land gently by the kettle.

"How the hell did you get that to work?" Harry asked, amazed.

"It's a Spellmaster. We had it installed because Jackson and I aren't all that good at cooking and Jackson wont let us get a house elf. It's pretty cool actually. Whatever you tell it to make, it'll make," Oliver said, pulling open one of the kitchen drawers. He rifled though some papers and pulled out a small, white card. "Here," he muttered, handing it to Harry.

"Spellmaster – we can create any spell to suit your needs," Harry read from the card out loud.

"Stupid slogan isn't it… It should say, Spellmaster – for the rich and lazy, because really that's what its all about," Oliver said in a dry voice and he hopped up to sit on the bench.

Harry made his way over to the kettle, and peered into the cups. The Spellmaster still hadn't even got around to putting milk and sugar in the mugs. "Your Spellmaster's not very quick, is it?" Harry observed, smiling at Oliver.

Oliver shrugged, "As long as I don't have to make anything, I don't really care."

Harry grinned, thinking to himself that Oliver had a point there. Perhaps he should get one at his house? Ron would definitely go for the idea. Harry wondered how he could politely go about asking how much something like the Spellmaster cost but dismissed the idea in the end. It might seem rude. He would just make Ron call over to the company and ask, Harry thought, slipping the business card into his pocket. 

"Where's Jackson tonight?" Harry asked, curiously.

"I think he's off visiting one of his many love interests."

"Many?"

"Yeah, there's a couple I think. He's a bit like Fred in that respect… Still busy playing around and all that," Oliver explained.

"Oh, right," murmured Harry, thinking it rather amusing that Oliver hadn't included himself in that list. From what he'd heard, Oliver wasn't exactly a chaste little choirboy. 

Harry glanced back at the cups and frowned. There still wasn't any milk in them and the kettle still hadn't boiled. Perhaps it was faulty, Harry thought and he turned to ask Oliver about it, only to have the words die in his throat when his eyes landed on the other boy. Oliver looked extremely nervous. He had his brows creased as though he was thinking about something important, his eyes were lowered and he was picking at the skin around one of his fingernails. For some strange reason, it made Harry suddenly very aware of the near silence in the room and as he looked at Oliver, his breath hitched in his throat and he felt the need to kiss Oliver. He'd wanted to do that since the boy had arrived at his house but now he had too.

Both of them knew Harry wasn't there to play the Playstation or to have coffee and Harry decided he would just have to do something about their 'problem'. He slowly inched his way over to the boy. As he shuffled, Harry couldn't help thinking that he was being very sneaky and it made him want to laugh. He managed to stifle it though and when he finally got to Oliver's side, Harry said in a whisper, "Oliver?" His lips twitched into a smile and he looked up at the other boy, sliding a trembling hand up one of Oliver's thighs.

Looking down at Harry, Oliver ran his eyes from the hand on his thigh up to Harry's face and he laughed. "Who's pulling out the smooth moves now?" Oliver teased and he seemed more relaxed than he had a minute ago.

"Well, I have been learning from the master." Harry grinned cheekily, enjoying the rich sound of Oliver's laughter that followed that look. He stepped between Oliver's legs and reached up to cup the back of his head, urging the boy downwards as he stood up on the tips of his toes so he could reach Oliver's lips.

Harry felt the same spark he got whenever he kissed Oliver, little ripples of excited pleasure that made him shiver, though because he was so short and the bench so high, it was a strain to keep their lips together. As if sensing Harry's discomfort, Oliver slid forward on the bench and locked his legs around Harry, making it much easier for him to kiss Oliver like he wanted – passionately and thoroughly.

Ding

"Coffee's ready," a breathless Oliver said, pulling back from Harry.

"I don't really want any to be honest."

Oliver laughed and, staring down at Harry through shiny eyes, he ran a finger lightly over Harry's swollen lips. "Bedroom instead?"

Harry would have been quite willing to settle for the kitchen floor but he murmured his agreement and stepped aside, allowing Oliver to slide off the bench. Kissing and laughing, Harry and Oliver slowly made for Oliver's bedroom. They paused on the stairs to kick off their shoes and socks, and while removing each other's jackets the boys got distracted and they ended up staying on the stairs longer than either boy intended.

___

Here would be the first missing bit…  Like I said, if you want to read the NC17 version, you can find it at the glassesreflect yahoo group and its also up at my website (the address is in my profile).