"What Does Oliver Want?"

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling.

Marcus shoves him, saying "You only win because of Potter."

Oliver knows it's true, but that doesn't stop him from shoving Marcus back and saying, "If that's true, why don't you play without cheating?"

Care of Magical Creatures has been good for fighting with Marcus this year. The new teacher, Hagrid, doesn't notice much beyond the monstrous creatures he's so proud of. Their classmates are used to them behaving like this and no one even glances at them anymore. After all, Marcus is the Slytherin Quidditch captain, and he's the Gryffindor captain. It's only natural that they fight at every opportunity.

What's not natural, however, is how much Oliver enjoys the feel of Marcus's body under his hands. Marcus doesn't have a pretty face, but his body's bigger and stronger than Oliver's. And sometimes, when Oliver's laying in bed at nights, he'll wonder what Marcus's body looks like under his clothing. He'll wonder how Marcus feels, if it's anything like the feel of his own body. But he usually tries to restrict such thoughts to times of lonely darkness.

Marcus pins him to a tree. "What you call cheating, I call good strategy." He doesn't reply and Marcus sneers at him, "What, nothing to say?"

"Why, Marcus, you sure seem to enjoy putting your hands on me." Oliver smirks at him. Transferrence, that's what it's called. Still, he has the smallest of hopes that Marcus will admit he likes touching Oliver too.

Marcus doesn't admit anything of the kind, but he doesn't let go of Oliver either. "You seem to enjoy provoking me into having to touch you. You're not queer, are you, Wood?"

Marcus's hands are hot on his shoulders, even through his clothes, and there's still no one paying attention to them. He lies, "If I was, you wouldn't be my type, Flint."

"Oh, really?" Marcus whispers, as his hands leave Oliver's shoulders and travel down his body. He feels so warm, and his hand is firm, not soft like Katie's. Oliver can't help his reaction. Marcus says, "I'd say you were lying."

"So what if I was?" Oliver knows it's wrong.

Marcus lets go of him and steps back, smirking. "Then it's too bad for you that you're not my type." He walks away from Oliver, back to the larger group of students.

Oliver wishes he could think of a good retort, wishes he wasn't so aroused by Marcus' touch, wishes he didn't want Marcus damn Flint. Marcus doesn't turn to look back at him. Oliver fastens the front of his robes and goes to stand beside Percy. "What'd I miss?" he asks.

End