Chapter 5

"…and with a last pinch of asphodel, the potion is left to simmer for exactly four minutes and thirteen seconds, before we begin with the sixth round of stirring clockwise."

Elio wasn't stirring anything. He had long given up on the miserable liquor that was bubbling in his cauldron. He had only chosen to continue with potions because he was a quite talented at it, not because he liked it much. But on days like these, when he simply lacked the motivation, all talent didn't help. What didn't help either was that the teacher was so young and frightened of speaking in front of students that he had to look at his book every other minute to check his instructions. With the teacher being busy with himself and the room filled with smoke, no one cared much to do anything and so Elio wasn't the only one who was busy with other things. Most students were just randomly throwing their ingredients into their cauldrons and comparing the experimental results.

"How are we supposed to learn anything from this?" Gareth Bailey complained. He was one of Elio's roommates and in this class one of the only ones who cared about the subject. "He is absolutely incompetent!"

"Relax, Bailey", Murray said and stifled a yawn. "It's not like you will need it later."

"So? It's still graded! Unlike others here I plan to actually make something out of me." He threw a pointy look at Elio who sat next to Murray and read a book.

"Anything you wanna say to me?" Elio asked without taking his eyes from the page.

Gareth scoffed. "As if I needed to say anything."

"Maybe just don't then and concentrate on your cooking."

Murray grinned wide. "Yeah, hear that, Gary? Shut your mouth and stir!"

Elio allowed himself a small grin when the other Gryffindor wanted to bite back, but Murray shut him down. On some days it paid off having Murray as a friend. It wasn't like he wasn't accepted by the others, but some of the Gryffindors were still less welcoming towards him than others. At the beginning Elio had thought it was just because he was new and they already knew each other for five years. But in time he had learnt that the house had "values" to uphold with all its famous predecessors like Godric Gryffindor, Dumbledore and of course the one and only Harry Potter. And so one either had to fight for the house by playing Quidditch like Murray, being a good team player, or simply applying oneself in class, like Gareth.

Elio did none of those things. He didn't care for Quidditch. He liked to party and socialize, but by the end of the day preferred to be left alone with a good book or his music. And while he was good in school, he didn't take it too serious. And despite all the good reputation the Gryffindor house seemed to carry, that was something most Gryffindors simply did not well with. But Elio couldn't have cared less. He had never bothered much what others thought of him before and he would certainly not start now.

Well, with one exception of course.

With one tall, beautiful, blond exception.

He'd stayed and listened to Elio play. He'd stayed, when he could have left on numerous occasions. That thought was circling his Elio's mind since the weekend and whatever he did during that week, it would not leave. Oliver had listened to him play. And he had stayed, because he liked it.

"You with us, Perlman?" Oliver's voice brought him back into the present, hours later, when he was sitting in the long awaited class of the week and yet again had become lost in his fantasies.

"Yes, Sir", he replied quickly and straightened in his seat.

Oliver smirked. "Then please, be so kind and share your thoughts on this piece with us."

Elio looked from Oliver to the thin figurines on his desk that he had never seen or heard of before and back at Oliver again. "No problem, Professor."

"Nice save", Oliver said, when class was over and they were the only two left in the room. Elio watched as Oliver collected his things and shrugged.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

Oliver threw him a glance and shook his head, smiling. "You might have fooled your fellow students, but let me remind you, I am the teacher here and it is my job to realize when somebody is serving me a pile of bullshit about art."

Elio grinned and jumped off the table to follow him outside. "You mean like you did last week with the Chinese pavilion?"

"Mh, don't put this on me."

"Well, as you so correctly said, you are the teacher here and-"

"Oliver!"

They stopped and watched a woman hurry down the corridor towards them. Once she stepped closer, Elio recognized her as Miss Hughes, the teacher for muggle studies.

"I hope I'm not late."

"No, not at all! Right on time." Oliver greeted her. "I like what you've done to your hair, Patty. Suits you well."

Miss Hughes blushed deeply. "Thank you."

"Well, see you next week, Perlman." Oliver winked at him, before he offered his arm to Miss Hughes.

Elio watched them walk off together and the smile slowly faded from his face. Never had he been jealous of a couple holding hands in the open like that before. They weren't even a couple. Oliver was probably just flirting with her like he did with the rest of the female teachers and half of the female students on top. But she did have her hand on his arm and although teachers were probably not really allowed to appear that casual within the confines of the school, no one cast a second glance at them.

No one cared.

Elio tousled his hair in frustration and turned his back on them. Suddenly all his appetite for lunch was gone. He spent the rest of the day in the music room. Desperately trying to get the image of the two out of his head, but failing quite miserably in the attempt. In the end he was angrier at himself than at Oliver or Miss Hughes.

How had he become so obsessed with Oliver in such a short amount of time? How was it that he suddenly felt so strongly for someone, whereas all his former attractions had been purely superficial? He'd liked a girl from his French school, because she was a great singer and had been just as keen on music. He'd liked a guy from his Italian school, because he was handsome and just as open-minded. But with both there always had seemed something at miss. Something that kept him back, something that made it not worth the trouble of pursuing them.

Now, with Oliver, he felt like he would explode someday if he didn't do something soon. But what was there to do really? He would never be able to walk down the corridor by Oliver's side, like her. He would never be able to claim him his own in front of others, even if just for a few wonderful seconds of flirting. The thought of claiming him his own was ridiculous enough already.

Elio sighed deeply and put his head down on the keys. The piano protested disharmoniously, but Elio didn't move. Maybe this was just the way it was supposed to be. Guys like Oliver had the whole range of women to pick from, while Elio was side lined to watch, but never allowed to touch.

Once Elio had come to that conclusion, watching Oliver during the meals became more depressing than ever. Most of the times he wasn't even flirting with Miss Hughes. But he wasn't ignoring her advances either and that was enough to crush Elio. He felt reduced to the good student again. As though Oliver just liked him for his wits in class and not for who he really was. Who he wanted to be, for Oliver. Seeing him smile at the female teacher made Elio hopeless for any chances he had imagined during the last weeks. Nevertheless, his gaze would always end up on the two and then he was staring again. If even just to imagine that it was him sitting there, talking to Oliver. Making him laugh. Making Oliver look just at him.

"You're doing it again."

Elio quickly tore his eyes off the teachers' table and found Marzia looking at him.

"What?"

"Zoning out."

"Yeah, we not interesting enough for you, mate?" Murray asked around a big piece of chicken in his mouth.

"Of course not." Amanda said and rolled her eyes. "Who blames him when all you ever do is talk about Quidditch…"

"Well, it isn't normal now is it? No Gryffindor doesn't care for Quidditch. You gotta at least come to one of the trainings, Elio! Just once! So you see what real Quidditch looks like. 'Course you don't like it if you only ever saw the Italians and French play. They didn't make it into the Quidditch world cup finals for what…half a century now?"

"Do you do anything different than flying on broomsticks and throwing with balls?" Elio asked dryly.

Murray grinned. "Sure we do, we win!"

And so, against all odds, Elio found himself sitting on the tribune one early Saturday morning watching the Gryffindor team walk onto the field, rather than sitting by the lake and reading a book. He hadn't meant to come at first. But Murray had been very persistent over the past few days and because the prospect of seeing Oliver somehow wasn't quite connected to the same happy tingle in his stomach anymore as it had been only a week ago, Elio had given in.

It was still early and so none of the girls were with them. At least some people were still in their right mind, Elio thought as he observed the others in the distance. He didn't mind sport in general. Back in Italy he'd been riding his bike around the countryside nearly every day. He'd loved to swim and run in the mornings. But Quidditch…the whole hype around it just didn't fit with him.

"So that's where you've been hiding."

Elio's head shot up at the familiar voice.

"Already tired of the lake?"

"No, I just…I was…Murray wanted me to come and watch them train." Elio stuttered, startled by Oliver's sudden appearance. Oliver followed his gesture to the Quidditch field where the Gryffindor team was currently flying in circles.

"Quidditch, huh? Didn't take you for much of a Quidditch fan."

"I'm not…I'm just…"

"Supporting your friend. Yeah, I can see that, you look really enthusiastic about it."

Elio rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on your run? Or are you already tired of the lake?"

Oliver grinned and sat down next to him. "Just finished."

Elio tore his eyes from Oliver's long legs and looked back to the Quidditch field. Suddenly he was hyperaware of his surroundings.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Saw that there were people training. I like to come up here on the weekends after my runs."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Elio stared at him in confusion, the awkwardness of the situation momentarily forgotten.

"So what, you just come up here and…watch?"

Oliver threw him a side glance. "Yeah, what's so strange about it? I played Quidditch when I was in Ilvermorny."

Elio cocked a brow. "Were you any good?"

"Actually I was so good that I played for five years until I graduated, yeah."

"What position?"

"What do you think?"

Elio watched as Murray smashed his bat so hard at a Bladger that it shot like a cannon ball to the other side of the field in mere seconds.

"Beater."

"And here I thought you didn't care for Quidditch."

"Doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two about it."

Oliver chuckled and they fell silent again. Elio didn't know how to feel. On the one hand he'd been so caught up in his downward spiral of frustration and disappointment that all he wanted was to be left alone and bathe in his misery. But just seeing Oliver smile and have him sit right by his side, made his chest constrict with so much happiness that he simply could not keep on brooding.

As usual Oliver's mere presence was enough to make Elio feel intoxicated. He dreamt of doing reckless things. Like scooting closer until their arms touched. Like burying his face in Oliver's shoulder and breathing him in. Like saying something he shouldn't say. But he didn't, of course. For the moment, sitting next to him was enough. It was enough, because if he closed his eyes, he could already feel the warmth radiating from Oliver's body. And if he was listening very closely, he could hear Oliver inhale deeply and slowly exhale again. And that made any need for words redundant.

"Yeah! Good catch, Clayton! Good catch!"

Elio's eyes shot open and he visibly jumped when Oliver started cheering next to him.

"That was an excellent move. Did you see that?"

"Yeah, yeah." Elio mumbled and nervously kneaded the back of his neck.

"Excellent move. Well, I'll be heading back to the castle." Oliver said, as he was standing up. "Looks like your team definitely has a chance of winning the Quidditch cup this year."

"Mh, yeah. I suppose."

"Cheer up, Perlman." Oliver laughed at his lack of enthusiasm and patted him on the shoulder. "Later."

Elio cracked a half-hearted grin and watched him stalk off in his ridiculous short shorts. His long legs made them even more ridiculous, but somehow the tall blonde still managed to pull the look of. When he was disappearing down the stairs, Elio whispered: "Later."