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It was a Saturday when Marcus, who'd been glaring at his father's investment papers, watched as Oliver Wood moved into the empty mansion across from his own family estate.
It was a tall, picturesque household, very elegant, very costly, but if you lived in this neighbourhood, you had cash to blow.
The stranger was in a red Ferrari, his parents in the backseat chatting. They laughed together, looking at their new home. A moving van drove right behind him.
Marcus had set down his coffee. Newcomers were rare. It was too expensive to just move.
No, these were family estates.
He had warm brown hair, and was wearing a blue polo shirt. His sunglasses glinted under the light and he dimpled when his father had clapped him on the back.
Marcus hated him instantly. Marcus didn't do preppy, spoiled brats. Granted, he was one himself.
He looked at the papers strewn in front of him.
He was earning his funds, earning the right to be a Flint, a real Flint who shook firm hands and met important people and had champagne with his wife at a five-star restaurant on Saturdays.
The stranger was entering his mansion now. Marcus knew he'd see him again soon.
It was a Thursday when Marcus really met Oliver.
By really meeting Oliver, it meant not flipping him off through their windows or insulting each other's infinite wealths and automatically despising each other. It meant putting on fake smiles and father's laughing jovially over wine.
"Marcus, son, have you met Oliver here? Mr. Wood's son, a very fine young man."
Marcus smiled lightly, looking at Oliver in his black tux as if he'd never seen him before. "Don't believe I have, father. I'm Flint." He said with a simpering smile. "Marcus Flint."
Marcus could see his eyes now. They were warm brown, just like his hair. "Oliver Wood. Pleasure."
You couldn't break fingers through a handshake, but it wasn't through lack of trying.
His mother, ever the hostess, had held a wine and cheese party for the neighborhood as welcome. She was a beautiful, cold woman, with a sweet smile and jewellery that screamed, "I'm no trophy wife."
It was a fancy, boring affair, of course, and Marcus was itchy and warm in his suit after a couple glasses of too-sweet champagne.
"Knew I'd find you here, motherfucker." Draco Malfoy, the twit, sauntered over. "Thoughts on the new boy?"
Marcus shrugged. "Don't care. I'm bored. Where's Pansy? Or Astoria?"
The blonde's face soured. "Dear Astoria is chatting with the girl-Weasel and Pansy is moaning to Blaise about her devastating crush on Granger."
"As if you're any better speaking about Potter."
Harry Potter lived two houses down from Marcus across the road, and Draco's house was right next to Marcus'. The boy was an orphan, parents killed in a car-crash and left him an unlimited bank full of cash. His godfather and his husband were absolutely loaded as well. He might have been the richest boy in that neighborhood, and that was saying a lot.
"Fuck off, I don't like him." Draco scowled, his pale skin flushing slightly. Marcus knew what he knew, and wouldn't push the asshole, and let it go.
Soon enough, Marcus saw Oliver again, this time chatting to Ginny Weasley, Astoria having fucked off somewhere. As he passed by, going to converse with Daphne, he heard snatches of "layup" and "dunk" and "filthy body check" as they talked excitedly. Basketball. They were talking about basketball.
Ginny Weasley had six brothers, two of which had moved out the country. They weren't extremely stacked like the rest of them, rich enough, maybe, but they had enough talent in their family to have something respectable. The oldest was Bill, who ran a successful banking industry in Australia. Charlie did charity work with animals across the world. Percy, who was Marcus' age but a year ahead at school, had been valedictorian and had gotten full ride to any university in the state he wanted. Fred and George were masterminds, absolutely insane business skills even while being in high school. Ron was a track runner, and a very fast one at that, and had won state champs the year before. Ginny was well on her way to the WNBA.
Marcus adored basketball too. But he'd never admit it when Oliver Wood was eyeing him so nastily as his parents forced him to chat with the Flints for the second time that night.
It was a Friday night when Blaise Zabini had held the first party of the summer.
It was for Draco's birthday.
His parties were rather legendary, and his mother, a lady who's multiple loaded old husbands had mysteriously passed, was in Italy with her new boy toy.
Oliver was adjusted already, taking a liking to the Weasley kids, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and more company. He'd see a couple of them hop into his red fucking ferrari and maybe Potter's jeep and they'd be gone for hours and by the time they rolled back around and drop Oliver off he'd be tan and pink in the face and more freckles would adorn his freckles.
Marcus, on the day that Blaise was holding his party, happened to also have gotten around to doing and finishing his father's agreement terms for his new startup company.
But he was in high spirits and as he smiled boredly as his father sped off in the Lamborghini with his mother in tow off to some bizarre restaurant that would have wine that cost a fortune.
Blaise's party was already in full swing by the time Marcus made his way over, with public school kids coming to mingle with the upper class. Marcus felt comfortable at a party where he was allowed to wear sneakers and jeans and his rings and have his hair fall loose from the normally gelled cage it was in.
He knew the other's did too, Draco losing his slicked back for a softer look, revelling in the attention his birthday came with, Pansy in a skirt that barely covered her bum and revelling in the glee knowing that her mum would have a fit seeing her in anything but Versace's newest looks.
It was warm too, with all the body heat of people dance up against each other, sweat flicking and Marcus could feel the a little of the vodka rushing through his veins and he smiled. It was a good day today.
"Come dance with me, Marky!" Astoria grabbed at him, giggling.
"You're going to ditch me for Ginevra." He complained. But he let her drag him to where people were gyrating and twisting and rocking. He an Astoria fell into easy beat with everyone, grabbing at random waists and letting people grind up against him.
In the corner of his eye, he saw Pansy and Hermione making out. Finally.
It felt good, moving and twisting under the dim lights Blaise had done another time his mother was way (that time, she was in Brazil), and he felt strong hands on his waist and suddenly he was rocking hips to the beat of someone else's music.
Marcus didn't mind, knowing it was a boy. It was probably some prep kid that Marcus didn't quite know the name of, or maybe one of the public school football players. Everybody was pretty open about it, around here.
It was warm, and when Marcus did turn around to see who it was, he almost stopped moving in the middle of the crowd. Seeing Oliver Wood with his hair matted and his eyes bright with only what the eyes of a tipsy person had.
"Flint!" He exclaimed. "Fuck! Oops! Didn't know it was you. You dance ok. But you're still an asshole."
"Not too bad yourself Wood, but fuck you, really." Marcus just sniped back.
The next time they saw each other, it was a beer pong match. Lee Jordan commentated like it was the event of the century.
"Flint versus Wood! Wood, yes, he may be new to the block, but you bet he's got mad skills behind that pretty smile and those innocent eyes. He's a basketball legend, you should see him at the clubhouse courts! But Flint is no stranger to basketball, as the first junior captain our lovely private school varsity team has had. Wood, are you aware of Flint's insane buzzer beater at the championships last year?"
Oliver looked at Marcus strangely, with a sort of confused look in his eye. "Nah. But no matter how good he is," he flashed a charming smile Marcus' way (yuck), "I'm better."
"Big words. town boy." Marcus smiled sweetly, with the little aristocratic smile his mother had bred into him.
"Things getting heated in the beer pong match! Begin!"
Marcus won, but Oliver had put up a good fight. He would've been a starter on the varsity team.
"Unlucky loss, Wood." He mocked, very, very drunk.
"I didn't know you played basketball." Oliver mumbled. "And that you're good."
Marcus smirked as Oliver glared at him. It was only fair that he had some shock value to Oliver's life as well.
You learned something new every day, they said.
It was a Wednesday when they all went for a drive.
Pansy and Hermione were in an established relationship now, and that means everybody had to hang out all the fucking time.
Marcus wasn't as bothered as he acted. He'd rather be doing that then be meeting with an embassy of a sort with his father.
So when Harry Potter rolled up in front of his door in a massive old van with plenty of seats that he'd bought on impulse the day before, yelling "c'mon, Flint, we're going for a spin," he had no other choice but to comply.
In their little parade included the two lovebirds themselves, Hermione sitting in Pansy's lap in the back (Marcus would think that would be uncomfortable, but they were just fine); Ron and Blaise sat at the back uncomfortably (as if everybody didn't know Blaise had been trying to pull Ron for ages), Astoria, Ginny and Oliver sat in the middle row, which left the squeeze of a window seat for Marcus, as Draco was (totally not on purpose) forced to sit shotgun with Harry.
Already, they were bickering about the music.
"For fuck's sake Potter, what is this?"
"It's 5SOS you uncultured fucking swine."
And it was off.
Marcus's thigh was pressed against Oliver's.
"You guys know the funky part of this van?" Harry called. "The skylight opens up!"
And the top fucking opened up. The little shit probably payed for that too.
Marcus was glad to stand up into the skylight and breathe in the fresh air. The wind whipped in his ears and the sound of Draco's bitching was drowned out. The sky was an expanse of blue and it was just so bright.
"How do you do it?" A question came shouted into his ear.
Oliver was really close to him, standing up as well. Marcus would probably feel his heavy breaths on his own face, if not for the wind rushing amongst them going miles and miles per hour.
"Do what?"
"All the investment stuff that your da does. You have a lot of responsibilities. A destiny almost. How do you handle it?"
How do you handle it?
Marcus didn't know. He didn't really know anything much more then his father's companies and Ivy League Universities and his inheritance.
He loved basketball. Adored basketball.
But basketball wouldn't adore him when it came time to sit down and write a report on customer influences in the market. Which was stupid.
"I don't know." Marcus finally said, his voice a little hoarse. "I just do, I guess."
They spent the rest of the ride looking at the sky, the endless endless endless sky.
(Oh, they stopped for ice-cream once as well.)
The first time Marcus went into Oliver's house was on a Monday.
His parents were gone again, his mother down at Narcissa's for a drink, his father in Canada discussing company trades with another big family up there. And he was alone.
Oliver's parents were gone too, different places, but just for a couple days. In this town, the parents were almost never always there. Wouldn't be there too see art shows, basketball games. Only the Weasley parents were known for being that supportive. The rest were used to it.
He'd been working by his window again, and across the street from him, Oliver yelled.
"Come over, Flint."
"No, I'm working." After a couple seconds, he added a "fuck off" for good measure.
"You've been working for hours. I have tequila."
Oh, that motherfucker knew that cheap alcohol was a weakness for Marcus.
"Come on then, I know I got you."
And he did. he'd had gotten Marcus, had caught him.
"Please."
Oliver was feeling desperate, huh?
So Marcus trotted down the stairs and across the road and opened the door knowing it would be unlocked for him.
"What's our fine reason for getting drunk today, Wood?" Marcus said wryly.
Oliver looked down, and away. He took a swig of the already open bottle, wincing as it burned.
"I think-" He sighed, his warm brown eyes looking cold and sad. "I think my dad's having an affair."
Fuck.
"What?" Marcus exclaimed, taking a drink from the bottle. He'd need a couple more before getting into this topic. "How do you know? With who?"
"Dunno with who. But he's been really distant lately. Doesn't speak to ma about anything anymore. He's been calling someone, texting too. Gets real dodgy when I ask about it. And last night, I saw a text pop up on his phone. Sexual, and not from my mother." Oliver drank some more. "I really hope it's just me overthinking. I want it to be some sort of joke. Fuck."
Marcus sighed. This happened often, in this town. Debauchery. Affairs. Lady Zabini was an example, having multiple filthy rich men in a single go.
But Oliver's family was just so sickeningly, disgustingly happy. They had the well put together, prim look of a rich household, but you could see the genuine happiness they had together. His mother would cook up a stunning meal every Sunday (even though they had a cook) and his father would bring his mother extravagant gifts and flowers and jewels every time he'd been away...
Oh.
"Fuck." He said again. He didn't know what he could say.
"Maybe you're just overthinking it." Was what he offered. "I don't know, Wood. I don't know."
"Yeah." Oliver answered. "Me neither."
The first time Marcus admired Oliver was from afar, on a Tuesday.
They were down at the clubhouse outdoor courts, the entire lot of them. Pansy and Draco were under a large umbrella sipping strawberry lemonades and had had pulled one of the lounge chairs from the pool, opting to hang out in their swimsuits watching the rest play basketball.
Astoria was in the sun, sitting with Hermione and Blaise bickering. Astoria wore a cherry patterned bikini. Hermione opted for a simple white, contrasting against her golden brown skin. Ginny thought the cherries were cute.
Marcus and Harry played a two versus two basketball match against Ron and Oliver. They had all lost their tops and they too, were playing in their swim trunks.
"Come on Weasley!" Marcus had mocked. "Or does your freckled ass want another beating?"
"I can give it to you if you'd like!" Blaise had called from the sideline, eyeing Ron from over his sunglasses. Ron would blame his red complexion on the sunburn.
Marcus shot the ball, and was pleased to hear it go in with a swish.
"Jesus, Flint." Harry laughed. "Brilliant."
Marcus excused himself for a minute, snatching Pansy's lemonade and taking a sip. It was sweet, but the clubhouse knew that Pansy liked her drinks tangy, just like Marcus did.
Oliver was tall, Marcus noted. His hair was warm in the sunlight and his eyes glinted with adrenaline when playing simple old two versus two basketball with two track runners and a guy he'd hated at the beginning of the summer. He was tan. His cheeks, nose, neck and shoulders were smattered with freckles and they almost blended in with his skin. Marcus didn't know what level of sport the boy had been playing before he moved, but he was toned, muscles chiseled as he jumped up to score on Harry (again).
He was ok to look at, Marcus supposed.
He knew he was understating it.
Oliver grinned at something Ron said, and his cheeks dimpled. When Ron said something else, he threw his head back and Marcus could only do so much when his eyes closed in on his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing and his jawline sharp.
Oliver was something else.
"Scared to get your ass kicked, Flint? Come back, chicken!"
Nah, he was something stupid.
"You're on Wood."
He was going to start a fire.
The first time Marcus realised Oliver was something more then a friend was on a Thursday.
"Let's go for a spin." Oliver had said, bored from across the street. Marcus had taken one look at the sheets on his laptop and agreed.
"My car, though."
He picked his favourite of the four his family shared.
So they were on the coastline, rolling in a vintage. The sun was bright, and the wind nipped at their cheeks. Oliver was in shotgun, his head falling back and his neck exposed from the white shirt he wore.
Oliver wasn't a fancy guy unless his mother willed it. He wore jeans and Vans today.
His sunglasses were Armani, though.
His arm was on the car sill, his fingers tapping to the beat of a song that was barely heard in the loud breeze. The ocean beside him glittered.
He had a small smile on his face.
They drove to the next small town, getting chocolate bars and burgers and eating them on the hood of the car, something his father would never condone if he had been there but he wasn't. Oliver was.
"Ever wonder what it'd be like if we didn't have the money we had?" Oliver asked.
"No." Marcus lied. Because he'd had, wondering what it'd be like to have to work to afford a basic old car and a tiny little apartment but had also wondered what it'd be like if his responsibilities hadn't been suffocating him since he was 15.
"I do, sometimes." Oliver confessed. "But I'm grateful. I'm really grateful. Maybe I'll do something good with the money when it's all mine. There are people in the world that don't live the way we do. Not even close."
"Yeah." Marcus said. "Yeah, you're right."
They drove back, and the sun was setting on the horizon, red in the distance. Oliver's skin glowed and only good people glowed like that.
"You are something else," Marcus mumbled to the wind, knowing it would blow away his words and that Oliver would never hear them."
The first time Marcus kissed Oliver was on the courts, and it was a Friday.
It was 3 AM. Marcus couldn't sleep. Oliver had thrown dirt at his window till he swore at him and came down.
("You could've texted me like a normal fucking human, idiot.")
They just lay on the courts, under the stars. It was a clear night, just like the summer had been full of clear days.
It was hard on their backs, but Marcus liked it. It felt sturdy.
They lay their silently, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was obvious they were deep in their own thoughts.
But Marcus' thought process was interrupted when the other boy rolled over to look at him. Marcus could feel his eyes on him.
When he rolled over, he hadn't realised they were so close.
Marcus could feel Oliver's breath on his own face. It was warm.
"You're really good at basketball." Was what he said.
"I know." Marcus answered.
"Why don't you go professional?"
"Can't. Family stuff." Marcus mumbled. He felt hot and itchy under his sweater, Oliver was so close.
"I guess." He sighed. They sat in silence for a little longer until Oliver rolled back over, getting close again.
"I'm glad I moved here, you know." Was he that close the last time? Marcus could count his eyelashes if he wanted.
"Me too." He whispered. "Me too."
And then Oliver moved his mouth forward, an inch, and Marcus could taste strawberries and salt and expensive champagne. It tasted like summer.
When Oliver rolled on top of him for more, Marcus couldn't get enough.
Marcus had the happiest day of his life on a Saturday.
It was Harry Potter's birthday.
And he'd pulled up in the van, yelling the familiar words, "Flint, come out, we're going for a spin!"
It was different then the first time they'd gone for a ride all together. Pansy and Hermione were the same, still smiling at each other in the back. Hermione had Pansy's red lipstick mark on her jaw. Ron and Blaise still sat with each other, but Blaise's hand was on Ron's thigh and they smiled softly. Ginny sat in Astoria's lap today, her red hair contrasting with Astoria's pale skin but she was glowing, really. Draco sat in shotgun, on purpose this time, and Harry had one hand on the wheel and one hand holding Draco's. They still argued over the music.
Oliver sat next to Marcus and their sides were pressed up against each other and they too had their hands intertwined. They joked and laughed and chatted with the others but when Oliver squeezed Marcus' hand his full and undivided attention was back on him, with his brown hair and tan skin and dimples.
They drove to a beach, where they splashed around in the water and started up a fire and sat on beach towels in swimsuits. Oliver had smeared ice cream all over Ginny's face but Astoria was only happy to oblige and kissed it off.
Marcus and Oliver wrestled in the water, equal in all ways, and finally Marcus pushed him down and went down with him. He opened his eyes under the clear freshwater and saw that Oliver was doing the same. His face looked silly all puffed up and his eyes squinty as he held his breath. Marcus pecked him on the mouth.
By the time they were making their way back, they all had water dripping from their hair and were a little burnt but so content and happy, because this was summer and they were young, rich and powerful. Unstoppable.
By the time Marcus was dropped off they'd stumbled into his bed, both their parents away, and they'd fucked. Marcus had seen every inch of Oliver's body and it was just as beautiful as the rest of him, and yes, he was beautiful. Marcus marked him as so, because only the rich owned things so beautiful and Oliver was his.
They fell asleep amongst Marcus' black, silk sheets, tangled up and so, so happy.