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When Oliver got off the Hogwarts express he couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was nervous as fuck but he’d been waiting for this day for as long as he could remember. The day his magic first started to show he’d been counting down the days until he could attend Hogwarts. His parents were alumni and spoke highly of the school, reminiscing of the times they attended.
Specifically, he was excited to join the Quidditch team. He’d been dreaming of being on a team ever since he went to the world cup when he was young, mesmerised by the game. His parents hadn’t allowed him to practice riding a broom, too afraid he’d hurt himself so he could only watch his older cousins play. Until that year, where he’d learn to ride a broom.
On the train he’d come across two boys, Terrance and Marcus. They were both second years, both in Slytherin but Terrance invited him to sit with them. Terrance smiled as he talked about the school and the classes, Marcus was pretty quiet though, not offering anything to the conversation. He seemed to be pretty quiet but he couldn’t take his mind off of him.
Terrance wished him luck when a quite large man called the first years to follow him. He looked at Marcus for some kind of acknowledgment, receiving the smallest smile but a smile nonetheless.
The Great Hall was breathtaking. The night sky could be seen through the roof, millions if not billions of stars shining brightly. He’d always been memorised by the night sky, the fact that the stars were billions of miles away but still shone brightly amazed him.
An old witch called their names to sort them into their houses. He was used to having to wait when it came to alphabetical systems, cursing the fact his name began with a W. He was still fidgeting as he waited, watching student after student get sorted.
“What house do you want to get in?” a scrawny redhead with glasses too big for his face whispered to him. “I’m hoping for Gryffindor.”
Gryffindor would definitely be cool; it was the house of the Headmaster. Oliver’s parents were Ravenclaw and Gryffindor alumni, so he was expecting either of those houses.
But a piece of him was hoping for Slytherin just to see Terrance and Marcus again.
“Any’d be fine,” he whispered back with a shrug.
“Even Hufflepuff?”
He shrugged. He didn’t understand the distaste for Hufflepuffs, his aunt was one and she was stupendous at magic and an amazing flyer.
“Weasley, Percy,” the old witch called.
The boy walked up to the stool and the hat was placed on his head. After a couple moments, the tattered hat bellowed, “GRYFFINDOR!”
Percy excitedly hopped off his stool and ran to one of the four tables as that table cheered, sitting with two red-haired boys who patted him on the back.
“Wood, Oliver.”
He was the only one left, so he walked to the stool, setting down on the stool. He found Terrance and Marcus’s faces in the crowd. Terrance gave him a thumbs up and Marcus nodded at him in encouragement. The hat was laid on his head and he could hear a voice in his head.
“Ooh, this is tricky,” he heard the voice say. “You are quite courageous but you are also quite ambitious, definitely prepared to do whatever you can to get what you want, and to achieve your goals. You could do great in Gryffindor, amazing in it actually. But… I think the place for you is… SLYTHERIN!”
He ran to where Marcus and Terrance sat, the table cheering as he did. He saw Percy looking a little disappointed as he sat but he couldn’t imagine why.
…
Oliver mostly hung around Marcus and Terrance, despite them being older than him. He got along with his roommates fine and all but he didn’t really connect with them the same way.
“So we’re planning on trying out for the Quidditch team,” Terrance said sitting on his bed. “All the Chasers as well as the Seeker graduated, so we’re hoping to get on.”
“What positions?” Oliver asked.
“I really want to be Seeker,” he grinned.
“Chaser,” Marcus said, his arms crossed over his chest as he laid on his bed, resting his feet on Oliver’s lap. “First years almost never get on the team, second years rarely do but we’re still going to try.”
Oliver shrugged. “I still need to practice flying and I want to try out for Keeper.”
“Current keeper’s a fifth year, so you’ll have to wait.”
Oliver smiled. “At least I’ll get a ton of practice in before I get on.”
“If either of us are captain by then we’ll be sure to choose you,” Terrance smiled.
Oliver smiled. “I thought favouritism was against the rules.”
“Fuck that,” Marcus said. “If we like you better we’ll choose you.”
Oliver smiled at them. He’d rather get on the team fairly but if he got on the team, that’d be enough.
…
Terrance and Marcus got on the team, and he excitedly cheered them on at the first game. He’d gotten a lot closer to both of them over the past couple of months, specifically Marcus. They were as excited over Quidditch as he was, Marcus even had a subscription to Quidditch weekly and let Oliver read it when he was done with it. He didn’t let him have any of the posters he wanted though, ripping out all of the blokes and letting him and Terrance have what was left. They were all the female players but Terrance was the only one interested in those.
Marcus was a good flyer, he zoomed through the air completely focussed and determined. He was really good; the Gryffindor keeper didn’t stand a chance. Terrance was really good too, he was up against one of the redhead boys Percy had sat with but Terrance was smaller, giving him more speed when he chased the Snitch.
They won the game and he whooped his fist in the air, tackling Marcus in a hug when he stepped off the pitch.
…
He was finally in fourth year which meant the Slytherin keeper had finally graduated. Better yet, Marcus was team captain. He still remembered the promise he made in his first year but Oliver was determined to prove he was worthy of the position to everybody. He’d been practicing his flying and Keeping skills for the past few years and he was bloody good at it.
He stepped on the pitch in full gear with his housemates, and Marcus stood tall in front of them. In the past three years Marcus had become quite burly, and much taller. Oliver himself was pretty muscular but he wasn’t as big as Marcus.
“Alright, fuckers,” he bellowed. “We need two new Chasers, a Beater, and a Keeper. If you’re gonna join you need to take this seriously.”
Marcus could be scary when he wanted to be, leading to some of the people around him becoming tense. The second year next to him – if he remembered his name was Adrian – was tense, gripping his broom tightly as he listened to Marcus. It was kind of funny, since Marcus was a bit of a grouch but he wasn’t violent beyond fouls on the pitch. He knew his best friend better than that.
Including himself, three people were trying out for Keeper, one a fifth year and the other a third year. He was ready to prove himself as a great Keeper, even if Marcus sent him a wink when tryouts actually started.
He blocked every shot his way.
…
“Alright men!” Marcus bellowed. “We’re going to win this game against Ravenclaw! They don’t stand a chance against us.”
The team whooped back, throwing fists in the air. They’d been practicing like mad for weeks and they were beyond prepared for the game.
Oliver was focussed, keeping his eyes on the quaffle, blocking shots with outrageous dips, flips, and tricks. He didn’t save every shot but he did pretty good. And it was enough for them to win the game, Terrance whooping loudly when he caught the snitch.
Marcus’s first was in the air as he zoomed to Oliver, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “You did fucking awesome! I could fucking kiss you!”
Oliver laughed in response, throwing his own arm around him too, trying not to fall off his broom.
…
Marcus was walking around without a shirt, obviously since they were in the locker room. But he hadn’t seen Marcus with his shirt off really ever, and he had to stop himself from staring as Marcus confidently walked around the room.
“You did great, team,” he bellowed. “Keep that up and we’ll win the cup.”
“We’re gonna annihilate Gryffindor,” Terrance grinned.
Marcus smacked Oliver’s back. “Keep up the badass Keeping, we’re gonna destroy Gryffindor.”
Oliver grinned. “That we are, the Chasers can’t get passed me.”
Marcus grinned, slinging his arms over his shoulders. “Their Keeper’s nowhere near as good as you,” he said. “And Weasley’s shit compared to Terrance.”
“I could honestly catch the snitch with my eyes closed before he did,” Terrance bragged, earning a laugh.
“Gryffindor doesn’t stand a chance,” Adrian grinned.
“We’re gonna destroy them,” Marcus grinned.
…
The house cup came between them and Gryffindor. They’d won their first game against them but they won against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, giving them enough points to qualify for the house cup.
Marcus made sure they were prepared but he didn’t overwork them, despite Oliver insisting they needed more practice.
“Don’t overwork yourself, Ollie,” Marcus sighed, putting his broom away. “I want to win but I don’t want you to break from being overworked.”
“I’m far from being overworked,” he argued, crossing his arms over his chest.
Marcus shook his head and laughed. “You’re so stubborn, I just want to make sure you’re not stressed; we have exams too y’know.”
“Right, you have your O.W.Ls,” he suddenly remembered. “Well, I just want to practice a little more.”
Marcus snorted. “Fine, have fun trying to practice on your own,” he walked out of the locker room and playfully punched his shoulder before he left.
Oliver snorted, and put his broom away, deciding there was no point and chased after Marcus, jumping on his back. Marcus didn’t have a chance to catch him properly, and shrieked in laughter as they fell to the ground, Oliver landing on top of hm.
“Merlin, you’re an idiot,” Marcus laughed.
Oliver grinned at him, resting his chin on his chest. “Maybe.”
“Hm, if you’re not careful you’ll break my arm before the game.”
When he came to the conclusion that he was maybe on Marcus for a literally too long, he got off of him, sitting on the grass. “Wouldn’t want that.”
Marcus smiled at him again. “Well, better get to dinner, I’m fucking starving.”
…
They pummelled Gryffindor to the ground.
Marcus took a victory lap around the pitch, his arm pumping in the air screaming with joy. Oliver flew to him and Marcus pulled him into a tight hug as he laughed. Slytherin won and they won so fucking hard.
When they were on the ground, Graham and Cassius carried Terrance on their shoulders, chanting his name.
“Best fucking Seeker this school has ever had!” Cassius grinned.
“Best Seeker ever!” Graham added.
“Let’s not forget about the best Keeper we’ve ever had,” Marcus added, his arm slinging around his shoulders. “You saved almost every shot,” his hand squeezed his shoulder and Oliver grinned.
“Terrance really got us the win,” Oliver said. “Weasley’s graduating so I’m glad his arse is leaving with ruined pride.”
“Can’t imagine they’d find a new Seeker that could actually beat Terrance though,” Adrian grinned.
“No matter the Seeker, we’ll pummel Gryffindor.”
…
Sorting was always a boring thing to watch. Once you had your own, unless you had a family member being sorted, it got uninteresting and redundant really quickly.
“I’m starving,” Oliver muttered to Marcus.
“Me too, hope this bullshit ends soon.”
They were hushed by their housemates so they turned to the first years as they got sorted.
For a boy with stark blond hair, the hat barely touched his head before the hat grunted “Slytherin!”
“That was quick,” Oliver remarked.
“He’s a Malfoy, what’d you expect?” Marcus whispered back. Oliver laughed and out of habit rested his head on his shoulder while they waited for sorting to end.
“Potter, Harry,” McGonagall called and the entire Great Hall went quiet.
It was Harry fucking Potter. He was at their school.
Oliver hadn’t been keeping track with how old Harry Potter was so it was unexpected. How was the kid already eleven?
“Betting on Slytherin,” Marcus whispered to him.
“Merlin, I hope,” Oliver grinned.
Their housemates hushed them and they turned back to the sorting.
Potter was surprisingly scrawny, scrawnier than Terrance even. His glasses had sticky tape on them too, which was a confusing sight. This boy who was basically a legend in the magic world couldn’t afford new glasses?
The hat was placed on his head and everyone watched in anticipation. He felt Marcus clasp his hand and Oliver had to admit it was strange how much Marcus was anticipating this. But maybe it was mostly caused by the tension in the room.
The hat seemed to be taking its time, clearly indecisive. Everyone watched and finally, the hat made its decision.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
“Damnit,” Marcus grumbled as the entire Great Hall cheered.
Two twins were exclaiming “we got Potter” proudly as the noise slowly died down.
When the noise settled down and the rest of the first years were called up to be sorted, Oliver realised Marcus was still clasping his hand. He hastily let go of it, Marcus realising what he was doing.
“Sorry,” he whispered bashfully, his cheeks tinting pink, looking down at his lap.
Well… that was weird.
…
“How’d Potter get on the Gryffindor team? He’s a fucking first year!”
“We know Marcus,” Oliver grumbled, not looking up from Marcus’s copy of Quidditch weekly. Marcus had been ranting about the fact Potter became Gryffindor’s new Seeker all afternoon. “Can I have this poster of Lynch?
“Fuck no, that’s my magazine,” he said snatching it from him.
“No harm in asking,” Oliver shrugged, and laid down on Marcus’s bed.
Marcus smirked at him. “Keep up that attitude and I won’t give you my captain spot.”
“Nah, you like me too much to not give me it.”
“Ah, you got me,” Marcus laughed sitting on the bed with him. “You’re my one weakness.” He poked his side playfully and Oliver laughed. Over the years, they’d grown especially comfortable with each other. Sure, he got along with his roommates and Marcus had Terrance but they got on best with each other, no one really trying to get between them.
“Don’t worry about Potter though,” he said. “Terrance has been Seeker for years, he doesn’t stand a chance. Just because his dad was a Seeker doesn’t mean he’s somehow a prodigy.”
“Hm, just be sure to save shots.”
…
They had… lost. Merlin they had lost.
“He didn’t catch it! He almost fucking swallowed it!”
“We heard you the first time Marcus,” Oliver grumbled taking off his gloves and arm guards.
“But that shouldn’t count!” Marcus shouted.
“He caught it fair and square, Flint,” Adrian grumbled.
“He caught it in his mouth and spat it into his hand,” Terrance added, defeated.
Marcus narrowed his eyes at them, ready to argue but he sighed. “Well, if we want to get to the house cup we need to pummel Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.”
“Hufflepuff is easy,” Graham said with the wave of a hand.
“Yeah, mate,” Cassius said. “We can handle them.”
“Marcus, we’ll be fine,” Oliver said. “We’re a stronger team, we’ll beat them easily, and we’ll win the house cup like last year, we pummelled Gryffindor.”
Marcus sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Fine, but we’re training as much as we can before the next game.”
…
They wiped Hufflepuff on the ground.
Marcus wasn’t cheering with joy over the victory, it was Hufflepuff after all. He still insisted they needed to practice, exhausting the entire team. Oliver assumed the bruise to his pride changed his mind about not overworking the team.
“Come on, just another ten minutes!” Marcus argued.
“Flint, some of us need to get our homework done,” Terrance groaned, cracking his neck.
“And I’m starving,” Adrian added.
“I’m with them,” Lucian said and everyone but Oliver and Marcus flew to the ground.
“If we lose it’s all your fault!” Marcus snapped down at them. He turned to Oliver. “You staying?”
“Course.”
“And that’s why you’re my best friend – and going to be the next captain!” he yelled down the last part, making sure the team heard.
“Whatever Flint,” Adrian shouted back.
Oliver shook his head, softly laughing. “You’re unbelievable,”
“Maybe, but at least we can practice together.” And with the quaffle under his arm he flew far enough so they could actually practice.
They played until it got a little too dark and when it did they still wanted to fly, so they flew laps around the pitch.
“Race ya?” Marcus asked.
Oliver grinned. “You’re on!”
They flew around the lap, at top speed. Maybe it was a little too fast, since they both almost lost control a few times.
They really didn’t know who won in the end, both Slytherins stopping before they flung themselves off the pitch.
“I think I won!” Marcus said.
“No way, I won!” Oliver argued.
Marcus laughed. “Sure, Ollie.” He flew closer to him and grabbed the front of his broom, pulling him closer. “I won.”
“Marcus,” Oliver shrieked, gripping his broom tightly. “I’m gonna fall.”
But Marcus’s hand was still on his broom. His grey eyes were piercing into his skin, teeth sinking into his lip. They stared at each other for a moment, and he let out a small gasp as Marcus pulled on the broom, pulling their lips together.
Marcus pulled away almost immediately, his face burning red. “I… I… I uh… sorry… I…” he sputtered out, his face turning more red.
But Oliver was only half listening, Marcus was still holding onto his broom. He let go one hand and stroked Marcus’s cheekbone, Marcus trailing off, like he forgot what he was saying. Oliver smiled at him let Oliver pull him for another kiss.
“Oh,” Marcus mumbled when they pulled away and Oliver’s stomach fluttered when he smiled at him.
“Oh yourself,” he replied. “That explains why you always kept the posters of blokes,” he remarked.
“That explains why you always wanted them,” Marcus shot back.
“Caught me,” he said and pressed his lips against his lips one more time. “Now you’re especially gonna be accused of favouritism.”
“Oh well,” Marcus grinned. “They already know I like you best.”
“True.”
…
“She can’t cancel Quidditch!” Oliver groaned, falling onto Marcus’s bed.
“Pretty sure she can when Potter’s in the hospital wing,” Terrance pointed out.
“Well, they should have an understudy,” Marcus added. Oliver smiled, Marcus was the type to have his back.
“Guess they don’t, what does it matter? We’ll just have to get to the final next year, we’ve done it the past few years.”
“Higgs, can you save being a smartarse for later?” Marcus grumbled, laying his head on Oliver’s lap. They hadn’t told anyone they were dating but Terrance was used to affectionate gestures between the two so it wouldn’t faze him.
“Look, I know you both take Quidditch ridiculously seriously but we didn’t win one game, so what? We’ve definitely won the house cup.”
Marcus huffed. “At least we have that.”
…
Of course they lost the fucking house cup because Dumbledore felt the need to give the Gryffindor house extra points.
…
“So, Terrance, don’t hate me.”
“What’d you do, Marcus?” Oliver said before Terrance could ask.
“Uh, well Malfoy offered the team Nimbus 2001’s on one condition,” Marcus continued, scratching the back of his neck.
Terrance stared at him, clearly putting the pieces together himself. “You replaced him with me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Terrance shook his head. “Whatever, I would’ve replaced you for Nimbus 2001’s too.”
Marcus looked relieved. “So you don’t hate me?”
“No more than I already did,” he smiled. “Your fault if he’s a shit Seeker.”
Oliver shook his head at Marcus and laughed. “You are easily bribed though, aren’t you?”
“Do you want a Nimbus 2001 or not?” Marcus asked, smiling at him.
“You know we have to train him, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry I’ll take care of it.”
‘Taking care of it’ to Marcus was apparently asking Snape to give them permission to practice when the Gryffindors were, which was probably the most spiteful thing he’d recently done.
“What are you doing here!” Groaned Johnson, glaring at the Slytherins as she walked onto the pitch with her team.
“Qudditch practice, Johnson,” Marcus shrugged.
“I booked the pitch for Gryffindor!” she argued.
“And I have a note from Professor Snape!” Marcus read off the permission note from Snape, a grin on his face.
Somewhere in the confrontation, two second years – probably Potter’s friends – came up to them to see the confrontation, and somewhere along the way Malfoy called the girl a ‘mudblood’, the entire Gryffindor team lost it – the Slytherin team knew better, they didn’t want to lose their brooms –, and the Gryffindor team couldn’t practice after Potter’s friend accidently hexed himself, Potter and the muggle-born girl dragging him off the pitch.
“You know you don’t use that word you brat,” Marcus glared at Malfoy, clearly tempted to smack him. “You’re lucky I didn’t let those twins beat your arse.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” he shot back. “I’m the reason you actually have good brooms.”
Marcus scowled at him but before he could say anything, Johnson said, “Fine, Flint, have the pitch. Our Seeker’s gone anyway. Just be ready to lose the cup this year.”
“Sure Johnson, whatever.”
She scowled at him and turned around, her team following. The twins gave them the finger before they walked off with the rest of the team.
“Merlin, that was some sexual tension,” Lucian joked, earning a chuckle from some of the team.
“Haha, you’re hilarious,” Marcus said before tossing the broom to his other hand. “Let’s get to practice before they change their mind.”
Oliver followed Marcus has he walked to the pitch. “Should’ve let them beat that brat’s arse,” he whispered to him.
“Yeah but he’s a kid and I really don’t want to deal with his dad.”
“Or lose the Nimbus’s.”
“Neither do you,” Marcus pointed out.
“Fair point.”
…
Okay maybe they should’ve known snogging in a classroom wasn’t too smart of an idea. But to their defence, they probably would’ve been caught by a roommate if they snogged in either of their rooms.
So as Oliver sat on desk with his legs around Marcus’s waist as they snogged, giggling could be heard above them. They pulled away and looked up to see exactly who they thought it’d be
“How scandalous!” Peeves shrieked. “Two boys are kissing!”
“Not really, Peeves,” Oliver said as Marcus scowled up at him.
Despite that, Peeves giggled and flew around the room.
“What I saw was definitely not a mistake, but what I can definitely say, is that two Slytherin’s like other kinds of snake! The captain and the keeper! Ain’t that a stinker!”
He flew out of the room, cackling with laughter as he sang his pretty awful song.
Oliver looked back at Marcus who looked quite pale. Whelp, the entire school was definitely about to know.
“Everyone will probably know in like, five minutes,” Marcus said.
“Oh well,” Oliver smiled and got a smile back. He pulled him closer, pulling him by his robes and tightening his grip with his legs.
When they did eventually get back to the common room it was almost like their house was waiting for them,
“I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!” Adrian chanting, clapping his fists together and grinning.
“You settled like ten bets,” Cassius smirked, holding up a heavy pouch of what was probably galleons.
Oliver laughed. “Guess you heard Peeves’s song?”
“Pretty sure the entire school did,” Terrance said. “Not that clever.”
Marcus nodded and slung his arms over Oliver’s shoulders. “Meh, whatever, that saved effort.”
“Whatever, just warn me before you snog in our room,” Terrance said.
…
“How can they cancel the Quidditch again!” Marcus groaned.
“Marcus, I think it’s beyond the point of bothering to complain,” Oliver said, sitting on Marcus’s bed.
Marcus sighed and walked over to Oliver, leaning down to kiss him. “Win us that cup next year.”
…
“So, uh, there’s an issue,” Marcus said.
“Fuck, what happened?” Oliver asked and saw Marcus clutching a piece of parchment. “What are you holding?”
Marcus held out the piece of parchment and realised it was his exam grade. To his surprise he saw all P’s. “Marcus!”
“Yeah, I know,” he grunted. “Need to retake my seventh year.”
He shook his head. “Merlin, you’re unbelievable,” he sighed. “Are you still allowed on the Quidditch team?”
He nodded. “Yeah, Snape said I could stay captain, sorry I know I promised you that spot.”
Oliver shrugged. “Whatever, not your fault.”
Marcus smiled at him. “At least I have you in all my classes next year.”
Oliver smiled. “Not too bad I guess.”
“And we can beat Gryffindor’s arses together.”
…
They didn’t win against Gryffindor. Figures the one time they actually played Gryffindor in the house cup they lost. Marcus looked pretty dejected about the whole situation, and Oliver was too.
“We tried, y’know,” Oliver said softly, squeezing Marcus’s shoulder as they walked back to the castle.
“Hm, I guess,” he mumbled. “You know what I’ve always thought?”
“What?”
“I always thought you’d make a good Gryffindor.”
“That’s weird,” he replied. “The sorting hat said I’d do good in it.” He’d forgotten about that. He absolutely loved being in Slytherin, the thought of being in any other house seemed impossible. Who knows how different his life would’ve been if he was sorted into Gryffindor.
Marcus smiled. “Hm, sure you would’ve liked to be the winning team.”
He grabbed Marcus’s hand to stop him, pulling him closer to wrap his arms around his neck. “Marcus, I’m exactly where I should be.” And he kissed him. Because it was true, everything was how it should be,
Winning the cup still would’ve been cool though.