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.