Title: Convincing Oliver

Author: thecoalbunker

Rating: R

Pairing: Harry/Oliver

Summary: Fred drags a reluctant Harry out to a club one night, where he bumps into his old Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood. Sparks fly instantly but can Oliver and Harry get it together?

Thanks: I would like to thank my two Beta readers', cutter and Kitty-Rose, for helping me with this story.

Disclaimer: All the characters and the wizarding world etc, belong to JK Rowling et al…

Warning: This story contains slash (which means at some point Harry and Oliver will in someway be 'romantically' involved. There is also some swearing and quite bit drunkenness involved. If any of this offends you DON'T read this story! Thanks.

Disclaimer: All the Harry Potter characters and world etc… don't belong to me…

Authors Note: There is an NC17 version of this story available of this story, check out my site if you want to read that version, it doesn't really apply until chapter thirteen and I'll be posting most of the story here anyway. My site will just have longer and more in depth shagging bits really.


Chapter One: Harry's House

Harry sat at the kitchen table and sipped at his tea lazily as Fred droned on about some new wizarding club he loved. Since arriving just over an hour ago, Fred had refused to talk of anything else. He seemed set on taking Harry there later and no matter how many times Harry said he wouldn't go, Fred continued with his glowing testimony of the club.

Harry didn't care how big the club was or who was playing there, he really didn't feel like going. Whenever he went out to clubs and pubs, he found himself inundated with autograph hunters and sleazy people, both male and female, desperate to take home someone 'famous'.  Shy in the company of people he didn't know, and embarrassed by the attention, Harry preferred to avoid such situations entirely.

"Come on, Harry! You have to come with me," Fred said somehow managing to sound pleading and demanding at the same time. He gestured widely with his hands as he spoke, emphasizing how determined he was to take Harry to this club of his.

"I can't be bothered, Fred," Harry groaned, looking pleadingly at his friend.

"Please, Harry?" Fred pouted. "It'll be so much fun… We can get really drunk," Fred said. He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively and added in a sly voice, "We might even pick up."

Thinking Fred looked creepy rather then sexy when he wriggled his eyebrows like that, Harry chuckled. "Don't try that tonight or you definitely wont score," Harry said, gesturing vaguely towards Fred's face.

Ignoring the insult, Fred's grinned. "So you're coming with me then," Fred said eagerly. He rubbed his hands together in excited anticipation. "Great!"

"I never said I was coming with you," Harry mumbled confusedly.

Realizing Harry couldn't be tricked so easily; Fred's decided to change his tactics. "What are you going to do instead? Ron's gone over to Lavender's place so you can't hang out with him. Are you just going to sit here doing nothing?" Fred asked sounding outraged at the prospect.

"Pretty much," Harry agreed, grinning at his friend. It sounded like a wonderful nights entertainment. He could play his Playstation Two and if he was really lucky, get onto the second Island of Grand Theft Auto Three. Ron would be so jealous if he managed to get over, they'd been trying for months with no success. And they played it everyday!

"Oh come on, Harry," Fred whined. "You promised!"


"Last time I saw you," Fred muttered vaguely before continuing in a rush. "How about we just go check it out and if you don't like it, I promise you can leave?"

"No, Fred!" 

"I promise you wont get hounded like you usually do… if that's what you're worrying about. It's pretty exclusive, Harry," Fred said and Harry could feel his resolve crumbling. Fred really wasn't going to give in this time. "Please, Harry," Fred pouted.

Looking at the pathetic, yet amusing display, Harry accepted defeat. "Urgh okay, just stop whining," he mumbled sourly.

"Great! I'll just wait here while you go change… unless you need some help?" Fred said happily, doing that thing with his eyebrows again.

Obviously deciding Harry was in definite need of assistance, Fred jumped out of his seat excitedly and pulled Harry to his feet. "What's wrong with this outfit?" Harry teased, holding his arms out wide.

"Harry… you look like a house elf," Fred muttered dismissively. He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and steered them towards Harry's bedroom. 

"They're not that bad," Harry said quietly. His jeans might be old and frayed but they were comfortable and Harry loved them. He could accept they weren't exactly suitable for a club but he knew he looked nothing like a house elf.

"Harry, you have such nice clothes. Why do you dress like this at home?" Fred muttered as he rummaged through Harry's wardrobe.

"Because they're comfortable?" Harry said, watching Fred in bemusement.

"Here put these on," Fred said, and chucked Harry a pair of black, snug fitting trousers.

Harry gladly accepted Fred's choice. They were almost as comfortable as his jeans, only they were a little tighter and made from a softer fabric. Dropping his jeans to the floor and kicking them aside, Harry quickly pulled on the trousers.

"You shouldn't hide yourself so much Harry," Fred said, flicking through the tops in Harry's wardrobe with a disgusted look on his face. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled reassuringly at Harry, "You're beautiful you know, you should show everybody."

For someone who flirted shamelessly with just about anyone, Fred sounded surprisingly sincere and Harry felt himself blush. When you grew up in a cupboard under the stairs, thinking you were some sort of freak of nature, compliments were rather hard to take – even if they did come from a close friend.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled.

Satisfied, Fred turned back to the cupboard to continue his search.

Harry sat down on the edge of his bed. He didn't know exactly why he did it but whenever he put on his shoes he had to be seated. Perhaps he was a freak, Harry thought amusedly, smiling as he did up the laces on his shoes.

"Ah huh," Fred screeched in triumph pulling a small, black top out of the cupboard.

"No Fred!" Harry yelled, "I don't like that one." He jumped up and tried to wrestle the top from Fred.

Holding Harry back with one hand and clutching the top in the other, Fred chuckled. "Yes, Harry. This top is perfect. You'll pick up in no time."

Harry shook his head stubbornly.

"Harry it's either this," Fred grinned, "or that little mesh number I bought you a couple of months ago."  Fred said, referring to the hideous ensemble of mesh and sequins he'd given Harry as a joke.

"Give it here," Harry sighed, taking the top from his friend. As he pulled his t-shirt over his head, Harry regretted ever buying the stupid muscle top. Impulsive shopping and overly friendly shop assistants never lead to the most prudent of purchases, Harry thought bitterly. He loathed the tight fitting abomination.

Harry struggled into the top and ignoring Fred's approving whistle, he went to look at himself in the mirror. He looked like a prat, Harry decided.

"Ready Harry?" Fred beamed, obviously happy to have gotten his own way with everything.

Less satisfied with the proceedings so far, Harry gave a small smile that resembled a grimace more then anything else. Backing away from Fred, Harry pulled his leather jacket out the cupboard and quickly pulled it on. "Ready."

"You know that's coming off when we get to the club, Harry," Fred warned.