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Connor Walsh had always been a bit of an enigma around the school. Slytherin, wealthy pure-blood family, and the type of boy parents would warn their daughters about, or in this case, their sons.
There are two things Connor Walsh is well known for. One, for being one of the top students of his class. He had achieved perfect marks on his O.W.L.s taken the previous year. A feat nearly achieved by Oliver himself, divination be damned! A rumor of cheating on his exams had spread around the school. There were whispers of special ‘favors’ to some of the professors. This had led to Connor hexing Roger Duncan–the apparent source of the rumor–in front of the entire school in the Great Hall. The smirk on his face implied he thought the three weeks of detention were well worth it.
The second thing, is that Connor had made his way through more beds in Hogwarts than anyone would care to admit. He had started in his own house. The most handsome Slytherins, gay or not, had been rumored to have had a romp with Connor Walsh. Eventually, he must have gotten bored with his own house, because one day he had been seeing going into the Room of Requirement with Justin Fawcett, a Ravenclaw seventh year. Just a few weeks later, it was Newton Smith, a Gryffindor sixth year. Then it was Cornelius Brown, Colin Abbott, Nicholas Finch, and a dozen others that Oliver had lost track of. And the one thing all these young men had in common, is that they were all handsome, fit, and popular.
In private, Oliver had asked Daryl Abbott, a fellow classmate in his own house that he considered a friend, what it was like with Connor. His curiosity had simply gotten the better of him.
“Look, I don’t–I don’t consider myself gay. But those two hours that we spent in that room, honest to Merlin, I almost blacked out like four times.”
Oliver bites his lip, trying his best to ignore the feelings of envy that are creeping up on him. Because there’s no possible way, not even if hell freezes over, that Connor Walsh would ever consider bedding a guy like himself.
“You guys gonna keep hooking up?” He asks hesitantly.
Daryl scoffs and shakes his head. “Connor’s not the type of guy to go back for seconds… And I’m not gay anyway.” He adds after a moment.
Oliver had dropped the conversation after that. Considering the sheer number of boys Connor had made question their sexuality, it’s true that he never seems to stick around with any of them. Definitely not a “relationship” type of guy.
Too bad Oliver is.
All the more reason to believe that he’s not Connor’s type.
Which is why no one was more surprised than himself when Connor propositioned him. Oliver had been rushing to the quidditch pitch, running late–the game was about to start any second now–and not looking where he was going. His friend Wes was playing on the Gryffindor team against Ravenclaw, and he’d hate to miss any of it. But then he turns around a corner and runs smack into another student–and sends them both flying backwards, landing on their asses.
“Fuck! Watch where you’re going, will you?”
“S-sorry! I’m so sorry!” He stammers, and immediately tries to help the other student up. But then the other man brushes his hair out of his face and Oliver blanches in shock when he realizes who it is. The guy that he’d almost run over in his haste is none other than Connor Walsh, the very same guy he’d had a crush on since fourth year. Never spoken a word to him before today, of course. And it can’t be possible, but he looks even more gorgeous up close. This is definitely not how he had pictured their first meeting going. “I–I… Um…”
Connor takes a moment when he finally gets a good look at him. His eyes glance over him, up, down, then back up again… Oliver shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. He must look a mess. It’s the weekend so he’s wearing casual muggle clothes, just an old t-shirt with sweat pants. He hasn’t showered in over a day, having spent the previous night working on a thirteen page History of Magic assignment, and his glasses are slipping off his nose. He quickly adjusts them, and is about to make some bumbling excuse to run away–where was he going again?
“You off to the quidditch pitch?”
Ah, that’s right. “Oh, um… y-yes! Yes, my friend Wes is on the team, m-maybe you know him? He’s a chaser for–”
“I bet there’s something else you and I could do that would be a lot more fun than watching yet another boring quidditch game,” Connor says slyly.
“W-what?” Oliver stutters, not quite understanding. He’s still barely grasping the fact that Connor is actually talking to him. Connor, who even on the weekends, is dressed in his immaculate house robes, which hang loose and billow on practically every other student at the school, but on him… they’re formfitting and gorgeous, and they cling to his torso and accentuate his lithe physique that Oliver dreams about much too often… oh, had he been staring?
Oliver blinks.
Connor simply raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips, and his eyes flicker down Oliver’s body once again before jumping back up to his face. The mischievous glint in his eye tells Oliver all he needs to know.
“I bet you’ll have more fun with me than at that silly game.”
Oliver swallows the lump in his throat. Yeah, almost certainly. Quidditch was never really his thing anyway… and he can tell Wes that he had last minute changes to make to his essay.
“What do you say?”
He only hesitates a second before giving a small nod. Connor’s smirk grows wider, he reaches out for his arm, and tugs them in the direction of the left corridor staircase–no doubt leading them to the Room of Requirement.
Oh, Oliver had not been expecting this today. Or any other day really…
But he allows Connor to bring them to the secret room. He’d never actually been inside the Room of Requirement, he’d only ever heard of it. But the allure of it is completely lost on him as Connor wastes no time taking their clothes off. There’s a large bed in the center of the room, full of too many pillows, and looking far more comfortable than the small four poster beds in the Hogwarts dormitories.
Connor pushes him back onto the bed, and he falls softly upon the sheets. Oliver’s practically shaking with his nerves, because Connor is naked and smooth and climbing on top of him. He’s still got that gorgeous smirk on his lips. And then he leans downs and it’s their first kiss. A moment Oliver had only dreamed about. Connor subsequently does a lot more than just kiss him.
He loses all sense of time while Connor shows him pleasures he wasn’t even aware of. The game had probably ended by the time they finished, and lay exhausted, panting, and lightheaded on the dirty sheets. To say Connor Walsh is experienced would be an understatement. Oliver is no virgin himself, but he can count the number of times he’d had sex on one hand. Connor had done things to him that would have him blushing every time he thinks about it.
Now that it’s over, Oliver isn’t quite sure what to say. Does he get dressed? Does he leave? Should they leave together? Is it going to be awkward now?
He feels Connor’s arm pressed against his own as they lay next to each other, still catching their breaths. Oliver sneaks a glance at the other man. Connor lays, with his eyes closed, lips parted, post-coital bliss written all over his face.
Fuck he’s gorgeous.
As Oliver’s heart rate returns to its normal pace, it feels like it slowly drops into his stomach as the realization dawns on him that he’s just become another name Connor can add to his little black book. Just another notch in the bedpost. He’s resigned to the fact that this would of course be a one time thing. And chances are, Connor would never speak another word to him after this.
But as he sits up and starts looking around for his abandoned clothes–he’d rather not prolong the awkwardness–Connor surprises him once again.
“Hey, we have potions together, don’t we?”
Oliver blinks in surprise and turns back to look at the other man. Connor’s sat up slightly. He lays propped up on his elbows, naked and utterly unashamed. It’s only a bit distracting. He nods, sixth year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs take potions together this semester. “Y-yeah.” He’s amazed Connor even noticed him in their class.
“You start studying for the exam yet?”
Oliver shakes his head. He hadn’t even glanced at any of the material. The exam is in just a few days and he had resigned himself to spending the next seventy two hours living in the library to do well on it. Potions isn’t exactly his best subject. “No, I–I’ve been studying for transfiguration all week, and I had a paper to worry about. But that’s finished now. I’m going to cram the next few days though.”
Connor nods. “Want to study together?”
Oliver blinks at the request. He’d never seen Connor working or studying with anyone before, not even his Slytherin friends. The few times he’d seen Connor in the library, he’s always alone, surrounded by books not people.
“Um… sure?”
Connor raises an eyebrow at his hesitance. “Okay,” he says with a small laugh. “Meet you in the library tomorrow, right after dinner?”
“Y-yeah, okay.”
Oliver doesn’t quite know what to make of it. After they parted ways, he’d been half afraid Connor was messing with him. Maybe he just wants another easy lay? But it’s not like he normally has any difficulty. Amazingly, they actually do study together. And it turns out, Connor’s really smart. Not that Oliver really doubted his reputation. His notes are immaculate and he’s made a study guide that goes through each topic they need to know. A few times Oliver asks questions, silly ones he’s sure, but Connor takes the time to explain it to him. He feels more confident about the exam than he ever thought he would after just a single night of studying.
And at the end of that night, when the library had nearly cleared out and the only people left were those with exams the next day, Connor drags him over to the men’s restroom, pushes him into a stall, and drops to his knees, that infuriating smirk plastered all over his face.
The next two nights are a repeat of the first. They study for a few hours after dinner, and then at the end of the night Connor drags him to the restroom for a hookup that leaves him weak in the knees.
He gets the best score he’s ever gotten on one of Professor Keating’s potions exams.
So they continue their little tryst. They have their hookups in the Room of Requirement, the top of the astronomy tower, once in the Owlery, and even once on the grounds overlooking the Great Lake–that was an exciting time. He had tried not to ask himself why Connor keeps coming back to him, again and again. He tells himself for once in his life, he’s not going to question a good thing. He’s just going to enjoy it, however long it lasts. And definitely, definitely not get attached.
The last thing he needs is a broken heart courtesy of Connor Walsh.
So, on a late Wednesday evening, as they both lay on rumpled sheets, limbs askew, basking in the afterglow, just when Oliver thinks he’s starting to get used to their situation, Connor throws him for a loop.
“Hey, are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?” Connor suddenly asks.
He’s not quite sure where this is going. But exams are over and he had just finished two rather lengthy assignments, and was definitely looking forward to a weekend off. “Um… yeah,” he replies hesitantly.
“Cool. I thought… I–I was thinking… that maybe we could… go together?”
Oliver blinks. Firstly, he’s never heard Connor sound unsure of himself, ever. And secondly, he must not be hearing right. Or maybe he’s misunderstanding in some way. They never hang out outside of hookups and studying in the library every once in a while. Connor always nods to him in the hallways, in class, or whenever he sees him in the Great Hall, but he never gave any indication that he wanted to ‘hang out’. Unless he’s asking as more than friends. But that doesn’t sound like Connor either. “You mean… like a… date?” He needs clarification.
Connor lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, a date. You and me, going on a date. This weekend.”
Oliver nervously swallows the lump in his throat. “Um… I–I thought Connor Walsh doesn’t do dates.”
“Well, I generally don’t,” Connor says, sitting up in the bed. He looks uncomfortable and nervous, and really it’s a strange look on him. “But, I like you, Oliver. And I want to spend more time with you. So… what do you say?”
Oliver shuffles nervously. Every instinct in him is telling him no. Because Connor Walsh is not the type of guy who goes on dates. He’s a notorious playboy, with a reputation for sleeping around way more than could possibly be healthy. And as much as he loves the idea of spending more time with the guy he’d been crushing on for two years, this couldn’t possibly end well. So he tries to think of an excuse. “I–I kind of already made plans to go with my friends.”
Connor frowns at him. “I’m sure they can handle spending the day without you. I mean, how many times have you gone to Hogsmeade with your friends?”
“Well, I said I would go with them,” Oliver says defensively. “And I don’t want to back out at the last minute, like it’s rude to cancel, and I–I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to… you know, like–”
“You’re not interested.” Connor says flatly, the realization dawning on him.
Oliver swallows the lump in his throat awkwardly. “It’s not that,” he says softly. He is interested. “I just…”
“Then what is it?” Connor asks harshly. He stands from the bed, and begins dressing himself while glaring at Oliver, waiting for an answer. “Are you screwing someone else?”
“No! No!” Oliver looks horrified at the idea of it. “Look, I just–I like what we have going on, you know? This… this is nice, it’s fun! And I–I don’t think we should… It’s just going to complicate things, a-and people would talk, and it would get weird…”
“Are you embarrassed of being with me?” Connor asks, a hint of hurt visible on his features.
“No,” Oliver says softly. The guilt tugs on his chest like an ache that won’t go away. This is not at all how he wanted this evening to go.
“Have you told anyone about us? Any of your friends? About whatever this is?”
“Well, no… But–”
“We’ve been hooking up for two months, Oliver.”
“Oh.” Has it really been that long? “Wow.”
“So no one knows you’ve been sleeping with me for the past two months?”
“Connor…”
“Forget it,” Connor says, shaking his head. He grabs his wand from the bedside table, before storming towards the door. “Wouldn’t want to risk you being seen with me or anything.”
The door slams behind him leaving Oliver stewing in feelings of guilt and regret. Neither of them feel good. He looks down at the rumpled sheets of the bed sadly. Whatever it was that they had, he’d probably ruined it now.
There’s no more hook ups after that. Not that Oliver is very surprised by that fact. Connor avoids him in the hallways, and refuses to look anywhere near the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall. He had tried to catch him after dinner. But by the time he walks over, he sees Connor leaving with his roommate Pax, another gorgeous Slytherin sixth year. They’re walking a bit closer than Oliver would like, leaning in to share whispers. So he gets cold feet and keeps his distance after that.
Things aren’t much better in class.
Connor avoids his gaze. He chats with Pax and smirks at him, looking his beautiful nonchalant self from across the room. Oliver’s surprised by the jealousy that strikes him, and his focus on Professor Keating’s lecture is pretty much nonexistent. The one time Oliver looks up and catches Connor looking at him, he’s sending a scathing glare his way. Oliver breaks the eye contact first, even though he probably deserves it.
The class assignment that day is to brew a Draught of Peace, a difficult potion meant to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Oliver thinks he could use one of those himself at the moment. He’s distracted, not quite paying attention to what he’s throwing in the cauldron. But it’s mostly turning out alright, the colors look normal at least. When he’s not adding ingredients or looking at the man across the room, he scrutinizes his potions text, panicking a bit because he completely forgot to keep track of how many times he had stirred the mixture.
“Oliver!”
He turns around when he hears Michaela’s frantic voice, only to see her point frantically at his cauldron. Which at the moment is hissing and boiling, and emitting a dangerous green mist. It’s definitely not supposed to be doing that.
It’s not supposed to be green. It’s not supposed to mist!
“Um… okay, what–what–” He frantically flips the pages of his potions text. He didn’t do anything wrong, he followed the instructions… mostly! And it mentions nothing about a green mist!
“Oliver, get back!”
Michaela’s voice has him jumping out of his seat, stumbling backwards just in time for the dangerous mixture to violently explode, covering him–and splattering a few other nearby students–with the foul smelling goo.
For a moment, all he can do is stare in shock at the mess that came from his boiling cauldron. A few snickers from the Slytherin side of the room has his ears turning red from embarrassment.
“Mr. Hampton, would you care to explain what happened here?”
He swallows nervously as he slowly turns to see Professor Keating behind him. She’s one of the most feared, intimidating professors at the school. And at the moment, she looks exceptionally displeased.
“Um… I don’t–I don’t know what happened… I–I just–”
“It was Mr. Walsh, professor,” Michaela suddenly speaks up behind him. “He put something in Oliver’s cauldron. I saw it.”
All eyes in the room turn to Connor, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. The smirk on his lips fades only slightly when Professor Keating turns her cold gaze towards her student.
“Mr. Walsh. Is this true? Did you put something in Mr. Hampton’s cauldron?”
“It was just a prank, professor,” he says smoothly. “No one was in any danger.”
Professor Keating narrows her eyes, her irritation clear on her face. “This is incredibly immature behavior on your part. I expected better from you, Mr. Walsh. Thankfully you’ll have plenty of time to regret your actions during detention this weekend.”
She starts to walk away, but doesn’t get very far before Connor speaks up again. “Mr. Hampton provoked me.”
“What?” Oliver sputters indignantly, pausing in his attempts to wipe the goo away with his hands. “I did no such thing–”
“Mr. Hampton and I have been in an intimate relationship for quite some time now. I had wanted to take things a step further, but it seems he’s not interested in anything more than a purely physical relationship. Also, he seems very embarrassed to admit that he’s been sleeping with me. It’s quite hurtful.”
Oliver gapes at him, jaw dropped, as the room falls into complete silence.
“Mr. Walsh.” Professor Keating’s voice is low and dangerous enough to finally make Connor look like maybe he’d made a mistake. “You waltz around here like you own the place, and most of the time I overlook it, seeing how you’re one of my best students. But you mess with another student’s assignment, you bring your personal problems into my classroom, and you distract my class from the lesson they are supposed to be learning. You’ve lost 50 points to Slytherin.” She pauses and turns to Oliver. “And Mr. Hampton will be joining you at detention this weekend.”
“What?” He exclaims in shock. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“You’ll be spending the weekend together, regardless. Perhaps this time together will help Mr. Walsh come to terms with the termination of your… intimate relationship. Now go clean yourself off, Mr. Hampton.”
Even from across the room, Oliver can see Connor seething in his seat, gritting his teeth so hard it almost looks painful. Oliver groans to himself, and storms off to the restroom to rid himself of the mess on his robes.
Looks like Connor may get what he wanted after all. A weekend together–not on a date at Hogsmeade–but time alone that may result in one of them being sent to Madam Pomfrey.
Of course, when he returns, it takes him twice as long as everyone else to finish his potion because he has to start over. As the rest of the students file out of the classroom, Oliver stays behind. Michaela gives him a sympathetic look on her way out, while Connor sends him another scathing glare. What’s he so upset about? No one told him to sabotage another student’s work!
It’s late when he finally returns to the Hufflepuff Common Room, and he sees Michaela curled up on one of the couches, a book in hand. He drops down tiredly next to her.
Michaela turns to look at him, an elegant eyebrow raised. “You and Walsh? Really?”
“Yeah,” he says softly.
“You know he’s slept with half the school.”
Oliver opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, and he ends up giving a dejected shrug. “He’s… actually a really nice guy, once you get to know him.” He groans when he sees Michaela incredulous face. “Well, except for today… But I kind of have a feeling I deserved this. And I… actually really like him.
“How long has this been happening?” She asks.
“Two months,” he whispers.
“Two months?!” Michaela shrieks. “Has he been sleeping with other people this whole time?”
“I–I don’t know,” Oliver says, throwing his arms up in frustration. “We never talked about it! We’ve never talked about us! And out of nowhere he asks me to go to Hogsmeade with him this weekend… on a date! And I kind of panicked, and I think I reacted badly, and now we’re spending the whole weekend in detention, and I don’t know what to do!” He buries his face in one of the throw pillows, as Michaela sympathetically rubs his back.
“I’m… sure it’ll fine,” she says, but her voice doesn’t sound very convincing to his ears.
For the first time in longer than he can remember, he’s dreading seeing Connor again. Not to mention the awful punishment Professor Keating is sure to have in store for them. She’s infamous for giving out the most severe punishments. Whatever she has in store for them can’t be pleasant. He had really been looking forward to Hogsmeade too.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Connor spits out, glaring at his Head of House.
“I never kid, Mr. Walsh.”
“You expect us to clean all these cages by hand? There’s at least a hundred damn cages in here!”
Oliver silently cringes behind his sleeve. The room smells worse than that time in third year when Asher Millstone had let off a Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-bang in the 2nd floor bathroom. The pipes had burst, flooding sewage into the corridor. It was dreadful.
“Thankfully, you two have all weekend to do it,” Professor Keating says, as she pockets their wands. “Have fun gentlemen, I’ll see you in eight hours.”
They stare at the cleaning supplies laid out before them. Two buckets of water, two bars of soap, and two plain toothbrushes are all they have to clean every dirty, soiled, putrid bird cage the Owlery had to offer.
“Let’s get started, I guess,” Oliver says softly.
Connor doesn’t say a word to him. He just glares at him, roughly rolls up the sleeves of his robes, and reaches for a bar of soap.
So, it looks like Connor’s plan is to pretend he doesn’t exist. It could be worse, Oliver thinks–
“This is fucking brilliant. Stuck in here all weekend with you, of all people.”
“Hey, don’t get mad at me!” Oliver says indignantly. “I don’t want to be here anymore than you!”
Connor’s only response is to roll his eyes and return to his bucket.
“You’re the one who sabotaged my potion! Neither of us would even be here if it wasn’t for you! Oh, and real fucking mature airing our dirty laundry in front of the entire class. That–that was pure genius, courtesy of Connor Walsh!”
“It’s just fucking detention,” Connor hisses at him. “Get over yourself!”
“Easy for you to say!” Oliver mutters. “You’re used to getting detention! I haven’t gotten detention since second year when Brian Finnigan convinced me it was a good idea to transfigure the pudding at dinner into worms. I was mortified.”
Connor rolls his eyes again, although now there’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he adds soap to his bucket. “Whatever. Let’s just get this done as quickly as possible, and then we never have to speak to each other again.”
Oliver awkwardly drops his gaze to the floor. He doesn’t quite want that. He wants to make things right, but he doesn’t know how. How did things turn to shit so quickly anyway? “Connor,” he begins, gently this time, but the other man cuts him off.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
“I wasn’t going to–”
“Look Oliver, if you don’t like me, that’s fine. Just say it to my face, and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll never bother you again. Just don’t give me some bullshit excuse.”
“I–I wasn’t,” he whispers.
Connor shakes his head, clearly in disbelief. “I like you, Oliver. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. I’ll get over it. I’d just rather you be honest with me.”
“Okay. Okay, I’ll be honest.” Oliver throws the soap back on the table and takes a shaky breath, while trying his hardest to avoid Connor’s stare. No. He can’t half ass this, he has to just find the nerve, and do it.
“I do like you, Connor. Hell, I more than like you,” he says with a nervous, near hysterical laugh. “I–I’ve pretty much had a crush on you for… like the past two years. I–I always knew I was different, I wasn’t sure if I was gay… But when I saw you… I just knew. I mean you’re smart, and gorgeous, and popular… sleeping with guys left and right…” He pauses and watches Connor awkwardly look away. H waits but the other man doesn’t say anything, so he just keeps going.
“I–I always kind of watched you from afar. Or you know, something that doesn’t make me sound like a creepy stalker, because I’m not! I–” He lets out a nervous laugh before sighing. “I just really, really like you. And I never… I never thought you would ever pay attention to me. Or see me. Or be interested in me, at all! Like I see you hooking up with a dozen different guys every month–”
“Not that many,” Connor grumbles.
“–and they’re all gorgeous and popular. And I just–I know I don’t even compare. So why–why would you ever fall for a guy like me?”
“A guy like you?” Connor asks softly.
Oliver sighs. “Yeah. I’m… plain, and boring. A nerd. I’m not athletic, I’m not cool, or popular, average looking at best. I was shocked when you even noticed me, let alone wanted to hook up… again and again. And I wasn’t sure if it was a pity thing or what, but–you know… a guy like me?”
“A guy like you?” Connor repeats, firmly this time. “A guy smart enough that he can actually hold a conversation with me? A guy who’s hilarious, tells awkward jokes, and says the most ridiculous things that make me laugh? A guy who’s kind, and gorgeous, and talented? Have you met yourself, Oliver? I think you’re one hell of a catch.”
Oliver stares dumbly for a moment before he snaps out of it. “Oh. Um…” He can feel his face flushing red, and he glances down at his shoes embarrassingly.
“I really like you, Oliver,” Connor says softly. “There aren’t many people that I can actually stand to be around for long periods of time. But yeah, I… really like you. And not long after we started hooking up, I… stopped looking for lays and sleeping around.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?!”
“Yes! Would you stop sounding so surprised?” Connor has both arms crossed around himself, and he looks away uncomfortably. “I stopped looking for hookups… because I liked what we had. And it was all I needed. Until now. Now I want more.”
Oliver watches the other man silently, a smile slowly forming on his lips. He never thought he’d hear these words from Connor Walsh, and now it all feels a bit like a dream. A wonderful dream.
Connor sighs and shakes his head slightly. “I–I’ve never wanted to date before. I’ve never wanted a relationship. And I told myself I didn’t need the extra hassle. But I want this. And I want you. If you’ll have me?”
Oliver grins widely. “Of course,” he whispers. He gestures around the room of empty, dirty bird cages. “So… is this our first date?”
Connor laughs softly. “I hope not.” He slowly walks over to the other man, and places a soft, gentle kiss on his lips. “Does this mean you’ll go to Hogsmeade with me next time?”
Oliver grins and gives a small nod. “I would love to, Connor. And you’re paying, to make up for ruining my potion.”
Connor looks away embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”
“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me, in other ways too.” Oliver says slyly.
Connor breaks into a smile. “In any way you want, Ollie.”