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The moon shone brightly on the Quidditch pitch as Oliver made his way across the field. It was quiet, unlike the common room on the night before a game. The chill of the night air sent a shiver down his spine, but there was no place he would rather be. Oliver made his way to the middle of the pitch, looking up at the sky to see the stars. A smile pulled at his lips when he heard footsteps coming up behind him.
"You're late," Oliver teased, turning on his heel. He came face to face with Marcus with a smirk on his face as well.
"I'm not late," Marcus laughed, shaking his head as he closed the space between them. "I seem to be right on time."
Oliver laughed, resting his hands on Marcus's waist as he pulled him in close. Oliver leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Marcus's lips. A moan escaped his lips as Marcus deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around Oliver's waist to find purchase against the small of Oliver's back.
Marcus was the first to pull back, needing to catch his breath as he rested his forehead against Oliver's. After a few shallow breaths, he leaned back to study Oliver's face. It brought him comfort to be in the arms of his lover - no matter how their love may have been viewed by the outside world.
They were supposed to hate one another, but here they were in the middle of the quidditch pitch illuminated by the moon. There was something about the secrecy of their feelings for one another that made Marcus's heartbeat a little bit faster. The thrill of being caught was running rampant through him.
"I hate that we have to hide," Oliver said, pulling away from Marcus. He made his way to a bench on the far side of the pitch and took a seat, waiting for Marcus to join him. He watched as Marcus seemed to take his sweet time.
Where the secrecy thrilled Marcus, it only brought Oliver sadness. He wanted to be able to share his happiness with the world, but he didn't want to be judged for who he chose to share his heart with. The idea that people from opposing houses weren't meant to get along was asinine, but here they were sneaking around in the dark. One day they were going to get caught and it wouldn't end well for either of them.
"We don't have to hide," Marcus said, taking a seat beside Oliver. He placed a hand on Oliver's leg, palm up, and watched as Oliver placed his hand on top. They interlaced their fingers and Marcus squeezed him. "But you know what would happen if we were to make a big deal out of things."
Oliver rolled his shoulders and turned to face Marcus. "I know you're right," Oliver sighed, "but it hurts to see you in the castle and know I can't touch you."
"You could," Marcus laughed, cocking his head to the side. He offered a smile to Oliver but sighed when he was met with disgust on Oliver's face.
"You know what I mean," Oliver huffed, lifting their hands to his lips and pressing a kiss at the back of Marcus's hands.
"I know," Marcus said, reaching up with his other hand and cradling Oliver's cheek. He brushed his thumb softly against Oliver's cheek. "Trust me, I know."
Oliver reached up and pulled Marcus's hand away, resting it in his lap. "Let's change the subject. Are you ready for tomorrow's match-up?"
"Slytherin house is always ready," Marcus replied, nudging Oliver with his shoulder. "What about you? Are you ready to lose?"
Oliver scoffed, raising a brow as he looked at Marcus. "Gryffindor doesn't lose."
"Care to make a bet about that?" Marcus asked, pulling his hand off of Oliver's lap and wrapping it over top of Oliver's hand he was already holding.
"What did you have in mind?" Oliver replied, glancing down at their entwined hands. Their hands fit together perfectly.
"If I win," Marcus said, pausing until Oliver looked up at him. Marcus studied Oliver's hazel eyes for a moment before continuing. "We keep this our little secret."
"And if I win?" Oliver asked, watching Marcus's brown eyes flitting nervously. He could tell Marcus was studying his face.
"I'll kiss you on the field after the game," Marcus said, narrowing his eyes to Oliver's. He bit back a laugh when he watched Oliver's pupils dilate for a moment before returning to normal.
"You've got yourself a bet," Oliver replied. He could feel his heart starting to beat rapidly. This was a huge step for both of them and the outcome of this game could change everything.
. . . . . . . . .
Oliver pulled on his boot, mindlessly pulling at the strings as he tied them quickly. His mind was focused on the upcoming match and determining the best strategy to win. He couldn't be distracted by frivolous other thoughts, no matter how important those other thoughts were to him. A win in this game was pivotal for the rest of the season. Pushing all of his distractions aside, Oliver stood up from the bench and grabbed his broom.
"When you've got your gear on, come over here," Oliver announced, moving to the middle of the locker room. He propped his leg up on a bench and waited patiently as the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team gathered around. Each time he closed his eyes, even for a moment, a pair of brown eyes haunted him. Oliver shook his head, pushing the image out of his mind. He needed to focus.
Once the team was gathered around, Oliver was able to focus his attention solely on the way the game today needed to pan out. Distracting thoughts couldn't interfere for the time being. His eyes trailed around the room, meeting the eyes of each one of his teammates. The energy in the room was exactly what they needed out on that field.
"A win today puts us at an advantage over Slytherin in the playoffs," Oliver explained. "Each time we beat them, it adds to our track record against them - that track record is at the forefront of their minds each time we face off against them."
Oliver smiled as he watched the energy of the team continue to rise through his pep talk. Today was going to be a good match. He could feel it in his bones. With a smile on his face, Oliver lifted his broom into the air with a cheer and led his team out of the locker room onto the pitch.
. . . . . . . . .
"All we have to do is play better than we played last week," Marcus said, looking around the Slytherin locker room. He watched each member of his team's face carefully as he studied the room. "We know their weaknesses and we know exactly what we have to do to beat them."
He watched as the rest of his team started chanting, going through their weekly ritual, and smiled to himself. A pair of green eyes full of hope played like a movie in his mind. Marcus knew he was distracted, but it didn't matter. As soon as he was out on his broom, all the distractions would fade away and the only thing he'd be focused on was winning.
"Let's go!" Marcus yelled, grabbing his broom and leading his team out of the locker room and onto the pitch. He could see Oliver and the Quijudge waiting for them in the middle of the field. Marcus flung his leg over his broom and flew toward them. He smiled as he watched Oliver mount his broom.
The Quijudge stood between them with the quaffle in his hands. "Are both teams ready?"
The stadium erupted with cheers as Marcus and Oliver responded and the quaffle was tossed into the air. Oliver took off after the quaffle and Marcus chased after him.
The game played out as both captains figured it was. The win would fall on which chaser came up with the snitch. Oliver had come to that realization halfway through the game and chased after Marcus when he caught sight of Harry closing in on the snitch. Draco was a ways behind him, so it was only a matter of time before a winner would be determined.
"Flint!" Oliver called, coming up beside him.
"What do you want, Wood?" Marcus hissed, narrowing his gaze at him. He had seen Draco miss the snitch a few moments ago and was getting disgusted with how sloppy his team had played today. It was a bloody miracle that the game was as close as it was and it would all come down to the snitch.
"I'm calling the bet off," Oliver said, moving to dodge a quaffle that was flying towards his face. He noticed Harry reaching out for the snitch, but before he could grasp it, Draco rammed into him. "Damn it."
Oliver took off again before Marcus could respond, he needed to help Harry break away from Draco so that he could grab this snitch and this game could be over. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Marcus flying after him. Oliver rolled his eyes and lowered himself onto the broom to speed up.
"Wood, get back here!" Marcus yelled, chasing after Oliver. He was just about to catch him when the pair collided with one another.
The ground was hard. Marcus let out a groan as he rolled onto his back. He could feel at least two broken bones, but he needed to know if Oliver was okay.
"Don't move, Mr. Flint," Professor Snape hissed, looking down at Marcus. Professor Snape waved for Madam Pomfrey to come towards him before lowering himself to his knee at Marcus's side. "What do you think you were doing?"
"I don't know," Marcus replied, pushing down on the ground only to feel a jolt of pain radiating through his arm. He let out a scream and collapsed back down on the ground.
"I told you not to move," Professor Snape said, grabbing his arm and laying it flat against the ground. "You've got several broken bones and you've probably just broken a few more."
"Let go of me," Oliver's voice called out, causing Marcus to turn his head toward the direction of the voice. He saw Oliver running towards him.
"Mr. Wood," Professor McGonagall called, chasing after him. "You need to stay out of the way. Madam Pomfrey needs room to work."
Professor Snape tried to block Oliver from getting to Marcus, but Oliver sidestepped him and was able to get close enough to see a bone sticking out of Marcus's leg. He grimaced at the sight, stopping him in his tracks. Professor Snape grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around.
"You can see him in the infirmary," Snape said, leading him toward Professor McGonagall. "You need to go check on your team."
Oliver glanced back over his shoulder to see Marcus writhing in pain on the ground as Madam Pomfrey started assessing him. It broke his heart to see Marcus in pain and not being able to do anything to comfort him.
"Take the team back to to the locker room," Professor McGonagall demanded, wrapping an arm around Oliver's shoulder. "You a very lucky man, Mr. Wood. You could have been hurt just as badly as Mr. Flint."
. . . . . . . . .
Oliver kept a vigil at Marcus's bedside while he slept. Madam Pomfrey had explained that the only way for Marcus's injuries to heal correctly was to rest and let the skele-gro do its job. It felt like it had been days since Oliver had last spoken to Marcus, but in reality, it had only been a few hours.
A groan escaped Marcus's lips, pulling Oliver away from his book. He leaned over and brushed a strand of hair out of Marcus's face. A smile pulled at his lips when Marcus's eyes fluttered open.
"You're finally awake," Oliver whispered, brushing a thumb against Marcus's forehead. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got the shit beat out of me," Marcus laughed, looking up at Oliver's face. He could see tear stains on his cheek and it broke his heart. "What about you? Are you okay?"
"A few superficial scrapes," Oliver shrugged. "Nothing - a plaster or two and some rest won't fix. I'm glad you're okay."
"Why did you call off the bet?" Marcus asked, studying Oliver's face for an answer he knew he wouldn't get from his facial expressions. Oliver was almost better at hiding his emotions than he was.
"We don't have to talk about that right now," Oliver sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the side of Marcus's bed. "I shouldn't have said anything."
Marcus pushed himself up on his elbow, grimacing at the pain but succeeding in getting into a seated position. He reached down and curled a finger under Oliver's chin, forcing him to look at him. "Tell me why."
Oliver let out a sigh and pulled his head away from Marcus's hand. There was no use trying to convince Marcus to forget about it, so he might as well face it head-on. "I don't care if everyone else knows," Oliver admitted. "All I care about is you."
Marcus smiled, leaning down to kiss Oliver. As he pulled away, he whispered, "Can I let you in on a secret?"
Oliver nodded his head.
"I was going to kiss you on the field at the end of the game regardless of who won," Marcus said, biting back a laugh when he watched Oliver's eyes go wide. "I don't care about anyone else's opinion about our relationship. I only care about you."