When Love Comes To Town

3. Hallelujah Here She Comes. (Nov 20-Jan 15.)

Seamus blandly gazed out at the Quidditch Pitch, his feet up on the back on the chair in front of him, not especially caring about what that said regarding his regard for the sport, the pitch, the stands, the school, or any intellectual or emotional concepts that underpinned their various physical realities. Indeed, his whole demeanour of refined nonchalance was typical Seamus: half bullshit and the other half dumb luck.

He stretched, and couldn't help but yawn, blushing immediately. He shot the girl sitting next to him an apologetic glance, and fumbled about a bit for his next move, crossing and uncrossing his legs at the ankle, before finally and somewhat self-consciously resting his feet back down on the wooden slats of the stands.

"Quite the performance," Pansy Parkinson teased, glancing over at him, before turning her attention back to the figures scurrying over and upon the pitch itself. "The thing about you, Seamus, is that your performances are completely honest, in their own way."

"Uh. Thanks." He had known Pansy for just over three weeks - well, technically he'd known her since first year, obviously, but he never associated with her, talked to her socially, attempted to know her, until now. And she was a strange girl, but then, he couldn't exactly say any Slytherin was normal. Blaise talked to the walls, Millicent point blank refused to use any word that had a positive connotation, and Draco only had conversations as long as they involved himself. Seamus was a bit leery of them all, but Pansy had taken an interest in him, even if he did feel like a pet. The others generally ignored or pitied him, or a disturbing combination of both.

Apart from Draco, who made his contempt abundantly clear, and so Seamus himself stayed well clear of Draco. Which wasn't too hard. Pansy and Draco weren't actually joined at the hip, despite the Gryffindor rumour wagon. It was interesting to see them from another perspective. And that was all he'd done for the first week: watch. They weren't the stereotypical villains they were rumoured to be: sure they were vicious, petty, underhanded, scheming and arrogant to boot, narcissists and paranoiacs and neurotics, but Seamus figured that he might end up that way as well if everyone else decided to hate you out of course.

Then he realised that everyone did hate him out of course and so he very well could end up like that. This led to him avoiding people and twitching at odd occasions for about a week, but he got over it. After Pansy found him and slapped him. Which fortunately wasn't public.

So, they talked, and kept talking. He'd never exactly found out why she tracked him down - or slapped him for that matter - and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know why, but they made an odd couple. The sanest Slytherin, and the most insane Gryffindor.

And it was fun. She was fun. Half-crazed, not to be trusted, and capable of having worse mood swings than Harry at his worst, but she didn't judge him, and she was entertaining. Seamus needed someone who didn't judge him; he needed someone to distract him, and it seemed like Pansy did as well. Even if she didn't sayit . Which she never would, because Slytherins seemed to have this bizarre interpersonal code about not revealing any weaknesses. Dean might have observed how they were more blokey and macho than any group of sexually repressed army cadets, but he was not here to make such observations. Which was, upon reflection, part of the point.

They even exchanged owls over Christmas. This, Seamus decided, was well weird. They'd studied together, and chatted between classes, and sat together in one or two classes, and Seamus resolutely ignored the stares and nasty looks from his fellow Gryffindors. After all, if they wanted to treat him like a leper, what the fuck did they expect him to do, except join the bloody colony?

Right now they were observing the Slytherin Quidditch team practice, as they did every Friday afternoon. It was a sort of ritual for them: watching Draco show off, and completely fail to unite the team, which he then got to practice with the type of shouted threats that could be heard amongst the stands. Pansy watched, and sighed, as she always did, seeming disappointed. Seamus didn't pry. It wasn't his place.

Of course, Seamus had always had vague unsubstantiated longings to play Quidditch for Gryffindor, but there were always better players. Now, he figured next year he would have had a chance, except for two things. One was Umbridge, but no DADA teacher ever lasted longer than a year, so she'd go come the end of the term and so would her ban. The second was the fact that anyone who was going to have any say in the matter probably hated him, so that did that idea in.

Finally the rest of the team walked off and Draco zoomed up on his broom to say hello to Pansy, with a brief look of sheer disgust at Seamus. At this point, Seamus usually looked away while he exchanged a few words to Pansy, and they politely ignored each other while Seamus tuned out from the conversation. This was normal; indeed, it was a stable point of necessary normality in Seamus' madcap life.

Okay, maybe he was exaggerating just a little bit but his mutual disdain of and with Draco Malfoy was something he'd come to depend upon, in these strange crazy days. And he was being far too descriptive and self-reflexive for his own liking. Blaming it on the change in company (or perhaps lack of company), that day, Seamus did not ignore Draco. He stared.

Draco Malfoy being Draco Malfoy refused to acknowledge him, because, you know, theories of evolution and racial separation and what not meant that he couldn't really without breaking some kind of deeply seated and contradictory internal code which, quite frankly, Seamus didn't give a fuck about. So he stared, and Draco started biting his lower lip as he talked to Pansy. Seamus stared, and sweat started beading on Draco's forehead. Pansy seemed to notice Draco's discomfort as well, and drew the conversation out as Draco's replies got more and more terse with each passing second. Finally, his resolve broke, and still clad in Quidditch robes, he strode back over the seats to the edge of the stand, and hopped on his hovering broom, making his way back to the locker rooms.

Seamus kept staring as Draco left, absently noting the way his robes fluttered in the wind, the curve of his backside on the broom, and the faint whiff of his hairgel still in the air.

Pansy turned to Seamus, although he was too busy staring to catch the amused expression on her face. "He is quite good-looking, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Seamus said absently, slumping slightly in the seat and bored out of his mind, "I mean, he's not oh my god handsome, but there's something about him." He suddenly realised what he'd just said and sat upright in the chair, stiff as a board, fingers curled over the edges of his seat, knuckles white. "No! I didn't-" Seamus turned, desperate to clear his name and retain the last vestiges of his much-needed heterosexuality. "You tricked me! I only meant, you know, platonically and all. Guys can find each other attractive, it doesn't mean anything."

"Right." An eyebrow was raised, and she lifted one delicate finger to curl under his jaw and tip his face up. Seamus felt as if he was under inspection, and his skin was flushed red even before this latest embarrassment. She laughed, amused, and he noticed that her laugh tinkled like chimes before she finally let go. He lowered his head automatically, and stared. Clearly she'd found something worthy in her brief search. Maybe he was just a toy to her, a source of a good laugh or two. Before he could get angry, she spoke. "There's nothing wrong with finding men attractive you know." She leaned in, and winked. "Well, if there is, I'm doomed to an eternity in hell, for one thing."

Seamus couldn't help but smile back, despite himself, although the smile soon fell. "Oh," he murmured, and looked down at the wooden floor of the stands. "Bugger. I never really thought about it - I mean, I thought I could control it, and ignore it, and stuff. I didn't want to disappoint me Mam. Or anyone." He sounded very lonely, and very small.

She gave him a sympathetic pat on the cheek. "The truth will always out itself, Seamus." Then she couldn't help but smirk. "And so, it seems, will you."

Again, he smiled half heartedly, but he was in full angst mode, really. "I didn't want to be more of a freak. Cause. No-one else has come out. What if I'm the only one?"

Pansy's lips thinned. "Seamus. Stop feeling so self-indulgent and self-pitying. This is a sex-segregated school. Even if you don't find some nice queer chap, I'm sure you'll be able to become the willing sub sex toy of many available heterosexual students wanting to get off." She leaned across and patted him gently on the wrist, and smiled. Pansy seemed to be serious. That was even more disturbing than the mental images her words actually provoked.

Seamus decided then and there that anything was better than this. Yes. Even Hufflepuff. But even if he was going to spend his time watching Ernie twitch and Justin fondle him for reasons that were entirely to do with his own psychological fitness, and nothing to do with the fact that Justin was actually as gay someone who was very gay (bad use of metaphor there, Seamus reflected, and realised he was getting far too self-referential again) he still needed to be honest. Even if the people he was going to be honest to didn't actually give a toss.

Which was probably a good thing, all things considered.