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Title: Pretending For Real Part 6
Author: Constant Vigilance
Status: WIP
Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Website: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/
Rating: Dunno yet.
Pairing: Harry/Oliver
Spoilers: AU. Characters aged up to age of consent.
Warnings: Slash
Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR is God.
Summary: Oliver needs a boyfriend to parade in front of his family. Harry offers to fill in.
Notes: For Cassy. Cause she’s a damn good pester-er.


Oliver took a moment to brush the soot off of his clothing before looking about the room. His jaw dropped in shock and his eyes widened to saucer sized. The bloody room was bigger than his mum and da’s whole bottom floor! He spotted various sculptures and works of art that he knew probably cost more than he made in a year. Things were inlaid with gold, with silver, with other expensive looking things he didn’t recognize.

 

With a final shake of his head, he shrugged off his awe and went in search of the gardens. It didn’t take much of a search, regardless of what he’d thought. The gardens were easy to spot just off of the flooing room. Huge paned glass showcased the varied flora…and the single bench in the middle of it. On the bench sat one Harry James Potter.

 

He entered the gardens, pushing the heavy door shut behind him, and walked up to Harry. He didn’t try to hide his approach, but Harry still didn’t make eye contact. He did, however, smirk as he stared out over the huge greenery.

 

“So, that’s where he ran off to in such a hurry.”

 

Oliver sat next to Harry on the bench, making sure he wasn’t violating any spatial issues with Harry’s leg…despite wanting desperately to do just that. “Um, yeah,” he murmured. “He told me to just come on through.”

 

Harry chuckled. “Well, it’s his home. I suppose he can invite in anyone he chooses.”

 

Oliver waited a few minutes, but it seemed Harry had offered all he was planning to offer. Oliver sighed. “So, Harry. I’m…well, I’m an idiot. A…a real fuckwit.”

 

Harry burst into laughter. “Yes, you have indeed been talking to Draco, haven’t you?”

 

Oliver smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, well, he had some things to say to me that I didn’t quite like, but I guess I really needed to hear them.”

 

“He’s like that,” Harry responded absently.

 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Oliver said entreatingly.

 

“For what?” A smirk. “For what? For subjecting me to your family? Already told you I liked them. For forcing me into a lie? My idea, remember.”

 

Oliver shook his head even though Harry wasn’t looking at him. “No, for throwing something in your face that you can’t help. I just wanted you to know that I never saw you as the boy who lived. You were just…Harry, the really adorable seeker,” Oliver quirked the side of his mouth.

 

“And now?” Harry turned to look at the keeper. “What am I now?”

 

“You’re…well, you’re the man I’m in love with,” Oliver returned frankly. “You’re this amazing guy that can see through my bullshit and for some reason still loves me anyway…if anything Draco had to say was true,” he added hesitantly.

 

Harry smiled sadly. “Draco always says what’s true, despite what others may think of him. He never lies about the important things.”

 

Oliver clenched his hands. “Are you sure about that?”

 

Harry’s smile disappeared. “Oliver, you were well on your way to forgiveness. Don’t ruin it by bad mouthing Draco.”

 

Oliver gritted his teeth. “What is Draco? To you, I mean.”

 

Harry shrugged and smiled again. “He’s Draco. That in itself is the explanation.”

 

“Why did you come to him?” Oliver persisted.

 

A slight frown appeared between Harry’s brows. “Because I always come to him.”

“And is he always there for you?”

 

Harry thought for a moment. “Yeah. I can’t think of a single time he’s ever not been there for me.”

“He’s in love with you, you know,” Oliver stated quietly.

 

Harry snorted. “Okay, Oliver, enough with the jealousy.”

 

“I’m not jealous,” Oliver was quick to reply. Then he sighed. “Okay, I am jealous. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s still in love with you.”

 

“He’s not in love with me, Oliver,” Harry smiled patiently. “He just cares about me. And I care about him.”

 

“But do you love him?”

 

Harry jerked back as though Oliver had threatened to hit him. “Are you trying to make up with me or not?” he snapped.

 

“I am,” Oliver insisted. “Sort of.” He groaned. “Fuck, Potter, I just spent the most bizarre few minutes of my life listening to Draco Malfoy blather on about you. He’s in love with you. Madly insanely in love with you and yet he’s putting a shitload of effort into shoving you and I together.”

 

“He knows I love you, Oliver.” Harry said kindly. “I told you that. He just wants me to be happy.”

“Yes, Harry,” Oliver looked intensely into Harry’s face. “And it seems he will have that whether it breaks his heart or not.”

 

“Oliver. Do you love me?” Harry demanded.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes.”

 

“So why are we talking about Draco?” Harry whined.

 

“Harry, what do you love about me?”

 

Harry sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to win until he agreed to play. “You’re funny, smart, a good athlete. You’re handsome, you’re sexy, and you’re fun to be with. You’re kind and caring and you draw others to you.”

 

“Is Draco funny?”

 

“Oliver,” Harry said warningly.

 

“Just answer the fucking question!”

 

“Yes!” Harry snapped again.

“Smart?”

 

“Undeniably so.”

 

“A good athlete?”

 

“He was. He’s not professional good anymore, but that’s cause he’s got other things on his…fuck, Oliver, what the hell?” Another whine.

 

“Is he handsome?”

 

“Oli—“

 

“Is he handsome?” Oliver pressed.

 

“Yes, he’s gorgeous!”

 

“Is he sexy?” Oliver managed to get past the lump in his throat.

 

“Yes. He’s bloody well sexy.”

 

“Is he fun to be with?”

 

“Loads.”

 

“Is he kind?” he snorted. “Never mind that one. Bad choice I suppose.”

 

“No, actually, its not,” Harry said quietly. “He is kind. And he’s caring. As long as he feels he can let his guard down with you, he’s the sweetest man alive. He just doesn’t let that guard down very often.”

 

Oliver swallowed heavily. “And he draws others to him. For good or bad.”

 

“Yes he does.”

 

“So if you love me for all of those reasons, doesn’t that mean you love Draco too?”

 

“It’s totally different,” Harry argued weakly.

 

“No, its not, Harry,” came the sad reply.

 

“Why are you doing this, Oliver?” Harry practically moaned.

 

“I just want you to be sure that you love me.”

 

“I am. I do,” Harry assured him.

 

“And I want you to be sure that you don’t love Draco.”

 

“I am. I don—don’t.”

 

Oliver stared pointedly at him. “You stuttered,” he whispered sadly.

 

“I did not,” Harry didn’t add a lot a feeling behind the obvious lie.

 

“Yes you did, Harry. You stuttered.”

 

“Oliver, I love you,” Harry’s eyes begged him.

 

Oliver smiled and chose he next words carefully. “I know. I believe you. Really I do. And I love you. I just think that you love Draco too.”

 

“How can I love both of you?” Harry asked, his whole body begging now. “How can it be equal?”

 

“Something tells me that Harry Potter’s heart is big enough for more than one person. And equal? Dunno. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.”

 

They sat quietly for long moments, neither one willing to break the silence. “So what now?” Harry finally gave in.

 

Oliver shrugged.

 

“Are you going to make me choose? Cause I already chose you,” Harry pointed out almost desperately.

 

“I know you did,” Oliver reassured him. “But I’m asking you to rethink it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I suddenly understand what Draco was trying to tell me an hour ago.”

 

Harry looked so confused. It tore at Oliver’s heartstrings. “What was that?”

 

Oliver looked tenderly at Harry, and then ran a finger down the seeker’s cheek. “I just want you to be happy, Harry,” he smiled. “Whether it’s with a fuckwit like me, a bastard like him, or both of us. I just want you to be happy.”

 

Harry’s eyes teared up and he leaned his head against Oliver’s chest and let the tears come. Oliver held him until the storm was over

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

Draco gave them four hours in which to ‘make up’. He figured that, being Gryffindors, whatever pathetically small knowledge of varied sex acts they had, four hours should be enough.

 

He cringed. Bollocks. Four hours was simply as long as he could take thinking about that fuckwit Wood touching his Harry. And so here he was, creeping through the floo room of his own bloody house, listening for moans so he could either bolt from the house again or strangle Oliver fucking Wood. Either was a possibility at this moment.

 

He heard nothing. Hmmm. Perhaps they’d gone up to the bedroom. He cringed again. Lovely. Wood spunk on his fucking 1200 thread count Egyptian sheets. As he shut the door to the floo room behind him, he heard a noise. Craning his ears, he recognized it as…laughter? Wonderful. They were in the afterglow. He stormed towards the noise. They’d better hope they managed to put some goddamn clothes on, at least.

 

He followed the sound and eventually made his way to the kitchen. From the smell of it, Harry was well on his way to preparing lasagna. He sighed. He loved Harry’s lasagna. He poked his head in warily as was surprised to see them both fully clothed, though Harry’s sleeves were rolled up. He ventured further into the room. Oliver caught sight of him first and grinned widely.

 

“Look who’s home, Harry,” he called, swooping down onto Draco and divesting him of his travel cloak. Startled, Draco let him remove the clothing and turned back to Harry only to find him directly in front of his face waving a fingerful of delightful smelling sauce under Draco’s nose. Draco cautiously wrapped his lips around Harry’s finger, swearing he saw a shudder pass though Harry’s body as he did.

 

“So, I guess you’ve fucked and made up then?” he asked in lieu of demanding to know why Harry was shivering.

 

“Nope,” Harry grinned, turning back to the stove.

 

Draco was confused. “No you haven’t fucked? Or no you haven’t made up?”

 

“Oh, we’ve made up,” Oliver said, returning from the hall closet. “We were just waiting for you before the fucking.”

 

Draco’s lip turned up in a sneer to cover the hurt. “Oh, that’s nice,” he snarled. “I get you two back together, make up some fucking stupid errand for the rest of the day, offer my soon-to-be-sterilized furniture so you can fuck yourselves into insensibility and you reward me by waiting til I get home so I have to hear the little bunny squeaks Potter makes when he comes and whatever bellowing noise you probably make!”

 

He threw his hands up. “Why do I even bother?”

“Cause you love me,” Harry smiled at him, setting the spoon down.

 

Draco shot a death glare at Wood before turning back to Potter. “Sure, Potter. I love you. Like a venereal disease,” he added sarcastically.

 

“Draco. I told him,” Oliver said softly.

 

“Fuck off Wood! I kind of figured that out you traitorous bastard,” the rage was slowly building in Draco’s chest. “Did you manage to drop it into conversation or did you just fling it out on the table as you gloated?”

 

“Dropped it,” came the easy reply.

 

“Like a flaming dung bomb, I’m sure,” Draco retaliated sourly.

 

“Pretty much,” Harry grinned. “Of course, then he told me I loved you too, thereby continuing the flames.”

 

Draco’s mouth dropped open as he looked from Harry to Oliver. “Wh-what?”

 

“Ohhh, you made him stutter!” Oliver looked at Harry in awe. “Nice work.”

 

Harry preened. “I try.”

 

“Fuck off Potter. And you too Wood,” Draco added, his chest beginning to physically hurt.

 

“Well, see Draco, that’s actually the point,” Harry moved toward Draco. “We won’t…not without you.”

“Won’t what?”

 

“Won’t fuck,” Oliver sighed. “Kind of annoying, I suppose, but hey.”

 

“You two want me to have sex with you?” Draco asked incredulously. They both nodded. “Why?”

 

“Cause Harry loves you,” stated Oliver calmly. “Cause you love Harry. Cause I love Harry and want him to be happy. Cause Harry loves me and we spent the last two hours talking about it and I’m fucking well horny and cause you’re goddamn hot and I gotta say that fucking you is turning out to be a fantasy I didn’t even know I had.”

 

“You. Want to fuck me?”

Oliver nodded.

“And Harry?”

Nod.

 

“At the same time?”

 

Vigorous nod.

 

Draco turned to Harry. “What the hell is going on here?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Oliver and I talked. Seems the whole time I was busy being in love with him, I was falling in love with you too.”

 

“You are in love with me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

Harry and Oliver exchanged grins. “Went over that already. Just believe me. I am.”

 

“So,” Oliver interrupted. “I’m willing to share Harry with you. He’s willing to share you with me. How about you? You willing to share?”

 

“Are you asking if I’m willing to fuck two gorgeous, sexy men at the same time? Oh, Merlin. What a hardship that will be,” Draco rolled his eyes.

 

Harry giggled. Oliver snorted. “Okay, thanks for the gorgeous and sexy comment, but what I meant was would you be willing to fuck me as well as Harry while in a three-way relationship?”

 

Draco stared at Harry, hunger in his every breath. “I’d be willing to shag Ron Weasley himself if it meant I could stay in Harry’s li-er…bed,” he caught himself quickly. Apparently not quickly enough. Harry’s eyes were suddenly suspiciously shiny.

 

Oliver smiled softly. “And that’s what I really meant,” he whispered.

 

“Hey, Harry…”

 

“Yes, Oliver?” Harry returned a husky voice.

 

“Can you put that sauce on hold for a while?” Harry shoved the pan off of the burner and turned back to the two men who were now watching each other warily.”

 

“Well, we have chocolate syrup in the fridge or we could go upstairs to the bedroom,” Harry quipped.

 

Oliver snorted and held out a hand to Harry, who took it and in turn held one out to Draco. Draco raised an eyebrow, opened the fridge door, plucked the bottle of chocolate out and then took Harry’s hand. Chuckling, the three men raced each other up the stairs.