Seamus is Seamus and You are Yourself

SEAMUS IS SEAMUS AND YOU ARE YOURSELF 14:

DRACO.

I'm jealous all the bloody time.

I know! It's ridiculous! With all my other lovers, I didn't particularly care. I mean, obviously I didn't want them to cheat on me, but it was more to do with honour than actual, real feelings.

And, quite frankly, who would ever want to cheat on this?

But... you have seen Harry, haven't you? You do know what he looks like, right?

Harry has never, ever shown one ounce of proof that he would ever even think of cheating on me, but it just doesn't matter. I should be used to the fact by now that people flirt with Harry, and that he's too clueless to even realise that they're doing it.

But every time I see it happening, something goes off inside my head. As in, the love songs are switched off. The birds stop their singing. Instead of wanting to skip along in a flowery meadow, I want to kill. KILL!!!

For some reason, Harry seems to find this- sweet. He thinks it's funny when I growl, and laughs hilariously when my eye twitches. And I don't even *care* that he does so. What's happened to me??

But lately, I've been thinking about other things. Other questions. Other questions of a futurey, where-do-we-go-from-here sort of nature.

For example. Harry and I have been going out for about three weeks. Well, two weeks, five days, three hours and- but... it's not like I'm counting, or anything!

So, three weeks. And- embarrassed as I am to put my seduction techniques in such a poor light, we have not done... It.

Never, ever have I waited this long for someone to be... ready. If they don't put out, I really don't want to know. I don't have the bloody time for sappy flowers and candlelit dinners! Who do you think I am, a Gryffindor?! And, usually, when they do give in, whether happily or reluctantly, I usually get bored with them very soon afterwards anyway.

But with Harry...

Shamed as I am to admit it, I just want to be with him as much as possible, regardless of the sex factor. Please, somebody pass me the sick bag- god, just listening to myself makes me nauseous.

But... I want it to be right for Harry.

Which brings me on to question number two.

Am I the person to make it right for him?

I'm a Slytherin. I'm an enemy. My father's a bloody Death Eater. We're in the middle of a war, and every day I meet up with Harry Potter to hold hands, snog a bit and have soppy little chats! And I like it!

But- when we get to the bedroom stage... what if I'm too rough with him? What if he doesn't like it and... oh, hell.

I know that Harry doesn't love me. Oh, he likes me, for some reason- I've yet to fathom why- but that's all there is. I should let him go, let him find some bloody Gryffindor who would actually be-shudder- really nice to him.

But every time I think of him with someone else, my eye begins to twitch. And I want to kill. KILL!!!

So, I can't do it. But how long will it be before he lets me go?

HARRY.

Don't get me wrong, I like Professor Smeldon, and everything. She's always nice and a good teacher too. But, well... she's also- a little odd. I know I'm not really up-to-date on the latest witchy fashions, but I swear that I've never seen anyone else wear robes as short as she does. Like right now, she's sitting on her desk with her legs crossed, and the hem's gone even higher. She's also got these really high-heeled strappy shoes on. I'm not sure they'd be the ideal choice for the classroom- aren't they meant to be really uncomfortable? Then, somehow, her robes bunch up even more and I see that she's wearing stockings. And suspenders. Oh- whoops. Look away, Harry- look away NOW.

"Harry," she says. "Harry, Harry, Harry."

I'm strongly reminded of Lockhart

"Yes, Professor?" I ask, slightly nervous. "Is there something wrong?"

She smirks. "Oh no, Harry- there's nothing wrong... with you."

Erk? She's giving me an intense sort of stare now- whatever is she doing?

"It's this essay," she says, handing it to me. Ah. Well, it was written the day after the whole Draco-kissing-me-and-denying-it thing, so obviously it's not my best.

She's got her hand on my arm now. I notice she's got blood-red, very long and manicured nails. Hmmm. This all seems rather... odd.

"Harry," she says, still smiling in that really weird way. "I know that you're a- good boy. And you're very good in DADA. This is not the kind of thing I expect from you, now is it? You've been a bit- naughty, haven't you, Harry?"

"Erm- I suppose so," I mumble. I'm not sure I quite agree with her choice of words, but I understand what she means. This wasn't a very good grade.

She cocks her head to one side. "Now, I know you've got- stamina, Harry- I just think it needs to be applied- here. I don't want to have to- punish you, Harry."

She hands me the essay. I take it. She... doesn't let go. She leans forward. I lean back.

Is it just me, or is there something... strange going on here?

"Well- thanks, Professor," I say, finally wresting the essay from her grasp, and hurriedly backing towards the door. "I'm really sorry about this- and I'll make sure that my stamina- I mean! My... work is better next time. Right. See you, then. Bye."

She's still smirking as I get out of there.

DRACO.

I was just walking down the corridor (not looking for Harry, of course) when several of Harry's housemates came ambling along.

"Are you saying Professor Smeldon made Harry stay behind after class? The lucky bastard!"

"I think she's the lucky one! Did you see that look on her face? Like she was going to..."

GARGH! NOOOO!!!

Kill! KILL!!!

I raced for the classroom.

But by the time I'd reached it, Harry was already gone. And so had Professor Smeldon.

HARRY.

Draco didn't meet me that night. I waited for over an hour, but he never showed up. I don't know why, but the whole thing made me feel sick. Had I done something wrong? He was always there, and he was always there before me- what had happened? I had to see him.

DRACO.

I came out of the shower to find Harry sitting on my bed, cross-legged and reading through my DADA homework.

"Gargh!" I yelled.

Harry didn't look up as he said, "I don't think question three's quite right, Draco, if you just..."

Then he looked up, clocked me and turned rather pink. Well, I did only have a towel on, so I'm not completely surprised by the reaction.

After a minute he realised he was staring, blushed even further and muttered a soft "sorry," as he looked away. It was at that point that the bloody birds and violins decided to make a comeback just as my insides turned to mush.

"Harry... what are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound cool, aloof, unattached, and utterly unbothered.

"Well, you didn't turn up tonight, so I..."

Whilst Harry was trying to explain himself, he was trying to do so without looking too obviously at my chest; in fact, trying to do so and not to look at my chest at all. It was absolutely ridiculous. I mean, we've been going out for ages and he gets shy about something little like that.

Bless him!

As he was talking, I realised with increasing horror that, for once in my life, my room was... messy. There were things all over the floor. And all my papers were strewn all over a desk, and- they weren't in any kind of order at all.

And, to top it all off, my textbooks weren't all at perfect right angles on my desk! I tried to surreptitiously edge myself so that I was blocking at least some of these horrors, before lying assuredly to Harry that I'd just been busy, and that no, that I hadn't not turned up to meet him because I was in a jealous rage. Harry was still looking at my feet, so I took pity on him and put my dressing gown on. But, quite unfortunately, something happened when I did this.

Now you may not know this, but Harry Potter is extraordinarily nosy. It's absolutely no wonder to me that he always manages to foil a new evil plot every year. In the split second I looked away from him, he managed to nose his way through my workbooks and fish out the one bit of paper I really didn't want him to see.

When I turned round again, he was reading it with a look of extreme puzzlement on his face.

"What's this? 'My name is Draco Malfoy. I don't need someone to complete me. And the noises are all in my head.'"

"Gargh!" I said again, made a grab for it and missed, and managed to send myself sprawling across the bed. Harry held the offending bit of paper (yes, ladies and gentlemen, I just had to write my mantra down, didn't I?) out of my reach.

"Give me that," I got out through gritted teeth.

"But what is it? Come on, tell me," answered Harry, still holding it away from me.

God! Could this be any more embarrassing??! I could feel my entire face burning up.

"It's my mantra," I snapped finally.

"Your man-? But why do you need one? And what noises?"

I lay down on the bed and covered my head with a pillow.

"The... thesongsandstuff," I mumbled after a while.

"The songs?" Harry said in bafflement. "And- and stuff?"

There was a pause. Then Harry said after a minute, realisation dawning in his voice: "hang on... was this from when you kept twitching and tapping beats? And banging your head against the wall?"

"NO!" I howled, surging up and taking the pillow off my face.

"Yes it was!" said Harry triumphantly.

"It wasn't!" I yelled. "It was all your fault anyway! You made me tap!"

Harry's mouth was now hanging open. "You mean... you heard songs and stuff because- because I was there?" he said slowly.

"Oh God," I muttered, the last nail in my coffin of deep humiliation having just been firmly banged in. I covered my face with my hands.

But then my embarrassment was gone, because Harry Potter pulled my hands away, whispered "that's so sweet," and started kissing me extremely thoroughly. After a while he pulled away and we studied each other rather solemnly.

"Draco... do you want to- to..." here Harry turned even more red, but managed to keep looking me straight in the eye.

I think I managed one very sappy and Gryffindorish "are you sure" before performing a complicated locking charm on the door. I definitely didn't want anybody interrupting this.

As we sank back down on the bed, I saw with surprise that my hands were shaking. I realised I was nervous. Completely and utterly terrified.

Bloody hell.

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