Heads I Like Him, Tails I Love Him

Blaise Zabini was working very hard. At least, his facial muscles were. The handsome dark-haired Slytherin was having great difficulty schooling his features into its usual cool and detached expression. He really wanted to grin, guffaw and slap his knees like a Gryffindor would.

How dreadful.

Instead, the black-clad young man stood motionless with lean muscled arms crossed in front of a slender lithe torso. His golden eyes balefully watched the wobbly young women attempt to seduce him with their sexy and slinky movements. Even if Blaise was not gay, he would have been as excited by their awkward attempts as a comatose flobberworm.

Pansy Parkinson, it seemed, had a nasty sense of humor, at least as far as Blaise was concerned. Why else would she have convinced him, considered to be one of her closest friends, to hold a dance class for a bunch of gangly first year Slytherin girls? Caught between wanting to be girls and wanting to be women, the socialite-to-be's still had not figured out how to properly work what little feminine wiles they suddenly found at their disposal. Fingernails were painted too red. Hair was over-styled and under-conditioned. Hairless legs were shaved and flawless skin was creamed to death. The cynical sixth-year couldn't wait to see what the little lovelies would do when they discovered they had breasts.

Blaise, Slytherin House's most gifted dancer, finally allowed himself a twitch to one side of his mouth. The girls would undoubtedly view this as an encouraging smile. They would one day learn that few Slytherins could be bothered with cultivating an encouraging smile.

Gathering them together in an empty classroom, he had tried to start them off with simple waltzes and two-steps. It was boring but effective in introducing young bodies to movement and music. However, the young "bitch-lettes" stubbornly refused to accept the simple instruction. Oh no. They just had to learn his style of dynamic, potent and sensuous dancing now or they would simply die. So, wanting to cease the begging, squeaking and whining that threatened to shatter his eardrums as well as his mind, he had capitulated, much against his better judgment.

The golden-eyed Slytherin was grateful for one bit of wisdom. He had set his meeting time with Seamus for 90 minutes from now. This was not Blaise's finest moment and the bloody Gryffindor would quite loudly and merrily point this out to him in a dozen or more ways if he were here, which is why he was NOT here.

Seamus Finnigan was a bright fluorescent spot in what would be an otherwise monochrome life for the Slytherin boy. Not that Blaise would tell Seamus so. The happy-go-lucky Irish boy was bouncy and smug enough as it is. There would be no living with the sandy-haired Gryffindor if he knew just how fond Blaise was of him or, even worse, how long Blaise had been that fond of him.

His moment of musing was interrupted by one of the bitch-lettes raising her hand and waving it impatiently at him. He raised an eyebrow inquiringly at her. "Si Signorina Iris?" the Italian boy said in a tone his friends fondly called "deceptively kind."

The blond pug-nosed adolescent, smiling like a Cheshire cat, knew him a bit better than the other pre-teens as her older sister was none other than Pansy herself. Blaise personally thought the first year boys should be afraid. Very, very afraid, if they were smart. Iris was quickly turning into a mini-Pansy of sorts and not one boy Blaise knew of in any year would be much of a match for the soon-to-be-formidable vixen. Present male company excluded, of course.

"I think we're ready to go on to more exciting steps, don't you think, Z?" Iris simpered in her best "dumb blond" voice. It was a voice that Pansy had perfected to a T. The use of this particular intonation often meant someone was going to be deceived, enslaved, hexed or laughed at shortly. Fortunately, Blaise had helped Pansy perfect "the voice" so he was immune to her sister's use of it.

"Senz' altro, mia carissimo," he replied smoothly. "Of course, my darling. Just as soon as you and your friends all stop dancing with both left feet!" This had the desired effect of wiping the vacant smiles off the faces of the coordination-impaired princesses in front of him. They glowered resentfully at him. Except for Iris. She just grinned in the same evil way her sister always did. Frightening!

"Now that you've shown me what little form and grace you possess, perhaps you will allow me to teach you my way?" he offered with a sneer.

At the lowering of their eyes and the subtle bobbing of their heads, Blaise knew he now had their full attention. Establishing one's rank was an accepted part of the politics and ways of Salazar Slytherin's House, even in a group as seemingly harmless as these first years. The sixth year boy did not often lose at these encounters. Not anymore.

Satisfied that they would finally accept his instruction, he nodded and began teaching the girls to dance in earnest.

* * * * *

"Tell me again why you're going, Harry?"

The blond Slytherin was leaning against the doorway of his dungeon dorm, watching the other boy towel dry his hair after his bath. Wincing at the vigorous rubbing the Gryffindor was applying to his head, he strolled over and took the towel, smacking Harry's hands down and ignoring the squawks of protest. "This is why your hair is so unmanageable," he sighed, gently pressing and patting the towel to the wet hair.

"Is not," a muffled voice argued from within the towel. "I inherited this hair from Dad."

"Who probably did the same thing you do," Draco Malfoy muttered. "Now, like I was saying, you're going to this so-called 'meeting' because why?" He picked up a comb and started the process of arranging the messy hair.

"Because Seamus asked me to," Harry Potter replied, seated in front of the mirror and watching with amusement as his boyfriend attempted to bring some semblance of order to his wayward locks. He thought he heard the mirror chuckle softly.

"And why couldn't he just tell you what he wanted from the start?" Draco demanded. "Why all this cloak-and-dagger rubbish?" The Slytherin had become accustomed to spending his Friday evenings with his former-enemy-turned-lover. Having that routine thwarted by Harry's Gryffindor friends was making him cranky.

"He said something about wanting advice for Valentine's Day," his green-eyed boyfriend was telling him. "I guess he wants to make sure Blaise isn't around to overhear his plans."

Glancing at Harry's face in the mirror, the Slytherin snorted. "And why, pray tell, did he wait until the last minute? Don't Gryffindors celebrate the occasion on the same day as the rest of the school?"

"Of course he knows it's tomorrow, you great prat! Before you insult his intelligence, let's just find out what he wants."

Draco stared at Harry's reflection, comprehension flooding his expression. "You already told him I'm coming, didn't you?" he said scowling.

Harry smiled peaceably at the silver-eyed Slytherin in the mirror. "Yes, I did. And you are coming with me, you know."

Putting the comb down, Draco glared narrowly at his boyfriend. "I don't take orders, Potter. Not even from you."

"But Draco," Harry said, turning and grinning up at the Slytherin. "Don't you want to help Seamus do something brilliant for Blaise?"

"No! Finnigan's procrastination is not my problem!"

"You don't mean that. Blaise is your friend."

Draco stood with his arms crossed. "I don't care! That Irish git can just go ahead and muddle his own way through this. I'm not going!" As an after thought, he added "And you're not going either!" He gazed challengingly at the Gryffindor, prepared to stand his ground. He fully expected a slew of spluttering and arm waving arguments from the Boy-Who-Loved-His-Friends.

Harry stood up in front of him and blinked. Without his glasses, his green eyes were even more expressive and vibrant. Much to Draco's surprise, Harry uncrossed his boyfriend's arms and stepped into them, wrapping them around his terry-robe covered self and winding his own arms around the surly Slytherin. Gazing into icy silver eyes that were starting to waver a bit, he leaned close to him and whispered, "Please."

Draco gulped. He leaned forward, trying to kiss the alluring young man in his arms. Harry's lips seemed to stay just out of reach of Draco's.

The blond shook his head suddenly as though he were trying to clear his thoughts. He glared at Harry through narrowed lids. "You think you can seduce me into going to this idiot meeting?"

Harry seemed to be thinking, staring at him with glowing green eyes. Then he leaned forward again, this time placing his lips near Draco's ear. "Remember that silver and leather thong you bought for me as a joke? The one I said I'd never wear?" he whispered.

"Ulp." Draco shivered at the tickling in his ear.

"The one with the silver snake emblem on it that moves and hisses?" Harry continued. Draco nodded, eyes glazed. "And you remember what happens when you bring a sssssnake around me, don't you?" Harry practically hissed the question.

"P-P-Par-Parseltongue?" Draco whispered unsteadily.

"Mmhmm. Have you ever made love to someone who was speaking Parseltongue to you, Draco?"

"N-no." His blond lover's response was barely audible.

"Well," Harry murmured, "tonight could be your lucky night."

Draco's grip on the other boy tightened. Images of his golden-skinned lover reclining on his bed in nothing but silver and leather, hissing softly and sibilantly in response to his touch, rushed through his mind in a torrent and instantly sent molten lava flowing to his veins. He was beginning to feel rather feverish. "You mean you'd wear it for me?" he croaked.

Without taking his eyes off Draco, Harry reached around and drew one of the other boy's hands down to his hip. The Slytherin's eyes widened; desire, love and lust darkened the silver to storm gray to black as he realized that Harry was wearing the thong under his bathrobe. He thought he could even hear a soft hiss. "Show me!" he rasped. "NOW!"

Harry drew back, smiling triumphantly. "Seamus first," he said firmly. "And you hear him out and help him with whatever he needs."

Draco stared at the maddening but delectable boy in front of him, so close and yet so far. "All right, ALL RIGHT!" he finally snapped. "Let's go and get this over with. Then," he said, eyes glittering predatorily at his boyfriend, "when we get back, you're mine, little snake charmer."

The Gryffindor smirked, releasing Draco and putting on his glasses. "Of course, Malfoy. I'll be all yours. We can start celebrating Valentine's Day early." He went off to find the rest of his clothes, leaving Draco to wonder how Harry didn't end up sorted into Slytherin.

* * * * *

Seamus Finnigan and his best friend, Dean Thomas, made their way outside through the front entrance of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They drew their cloaks around them as it was still chilly out. The two boys were on their way to a meeting of minds - three Gryffindor minds to one Slytherin mind. Seamus found himself wishing they had more Gryffindor minds on his side since the Slytherin mind belonged to one Draco Malfoy. Harry's suggestion that the Irish boy bring Dean with him made Seamus wonder just how keen the Slytherin was to help him. Not much, he suspected.

"I don't know about this, Dean," Seamus fretted, as they headed in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest. "I didn't get the impression that Malfoy was going to be happy about meeting up with us. Maybe I should tell Harry to forget it."

"Be brave, little Gryffindor," his friend said, patting the worried sandy-haired boy on the shoulder. "You know Malfoy doesn't do anything the easy way. You're going to have to work a bit for the information you want." He chuckled at the huge sigh expelled by the Irish boy. "Stop being such a drama queen, you prat. I'm sure Harry will soften him up as much as he can."

Although many Gryffindors were still trying to adjust to the fact that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were a couple, Harry's friends found the Slytherin's presence in their lives quite useful at times. Not that they told Draco that. The evil blond would undoubtedly raise the price of admission for his services if he knew it was worth something to them. Gryffindor Baiting and Tweaking was his favorite form of payment. Money would have been less painful.

The two boys squinted in the dark and walked towards the area outside the forest where Harry had told Seamus to meet them. On reflex, they whipped out their wands at the sight of two hulking masses approaching them. They stared rather dubiously at Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Draco's two Slytherin friends and bodyguards.

"Put your sticks away, Gryffindors," Goyle growled at them. "Malfoy said we couldn't hurt you. We just need to take you to 'em."

Crabbe sniggered. "Had you girls going there though, didn't we?"

Dean and Seamus glared at them but reluctantly sheathed their wands back into their pockets. They followed the two massive Slytherins past some bushes and other foliage until they came near a huge willow tree.

"Potter!" Crabbe called out. "Your friends are here."

"Thanks Vinnie," they heard Harry's voice reply. As the two behemoths lumbered away back to their guard post, Harry chuckled. "Well c'mon, Seamus. Dean. Pull up a grassy patch and sit down."

The Irish Gryffindor and his friend looked at each other and shrugged. Walking to the other side of the thick wide trunk of the willow, the two boys stopped and gaped. Harry and Draco were comfortably reclining against the tree. More accurately, Draco was reclining against the tree and Harry was reclining against Draco, cozily bracketed between his blond boyfriend's legs. Draco was holding a book he was reading; Harry was holding a Quidditch magazine.

Seamus and Dean blinked and resisted the urge to rub their eyes. Neither Harry nor Draco was given to public displays of affection since being gawked and pointed at was something both boys detested with a passion. Quite the contrary, they were careful to maintain the appearance of propriety and personal space, preferring to express their adoration for each other by means of bickering and competitive jibing. Any affection between the two normally took place behind closed doors. This, in fact, led some of their fellow students to doubt that the two boys were a couple. While their friends and many of their Housemates knew better, seeing them sitting together so intimately was a sight never seen by even the people closest to them.

"Go on. Sit," Harry prompted. The area they had just arrived at seemed less nippy than the rest so Seamus suspected a warming spell had been cast. As the two dorm mates settled themselves down on the ground in front of them, Draco smirked at their reaction. The Slytherin did not look happy to be there, but at least he wasn't spitting or spluttering - yet.

Seamus recovered first. "Uh...comfy guys?" he asked, grinning at them.

"Oh, I'm just as splendid as can be, Finnigan," Draco drawled. "Potter seems to think he can muzzle me faster this way."

Harry shrugged. "Can't hurt, Malfoy. Don't want you to forget that I'm here."

"Not likely," Draco snorted. "Only in my wildest dreams." He put his book down beside him and wrapped both arms around the Gryffindor in front of him. "Let's get this over with, Finnigan. What are you fishing for?"

Blinking at both the Slytherin's abruptness and his possessive posture, Seamus cleared his throat and gathered his wits. "I want to do something...uh...special for Blaise tomorrow." He glanced at Dean who grinned and nodded encouragingly. "I don't know what he likes to eat or what kind of things he'd consider romantic. I thought maybe you could help me with that."

"You do know that Zabini doesn't exactly acknowledge the existence of Valentine's Day, right?" Draco said.

"I sort of figured he didn't," Seamus admitted. "That's why I thought it'd be pretty easy to surprise him. He wouldn't be expecting me to do something."

"He's not easy to surprise either," the Slytherin said. "Do you know why he doesn't care much for the whole hearts and flowers idea?"

"Er...no." Seamus glanced worriedly at Dean who shrugged. "I just figured he wasn't the mushy type normally."

"Close, but not quite," Draco replied, smirking. "You know that you're the first guy he's openly dating, don't you?" At Seamus' puzzled stare, he explained. "He's been with lots of guys, mostly Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, but you're the first one everybody knows about. His previous relationships have been with blokes who were still in the closet or in denial so everything was very hush-hush. Those types of boyfriends don't tend to lavish generous amounts of love and attention on him. They save all that for their girlfriends."

"So he's never been anyone's Valentine," Seamus said softly. He felt his heart clench painfully at the thought. "Pretty crappy of those blokes," he muttered angrily. "That's treating him like a dirty little secret or something." Seamus himself never kept such things secret so he had a hard time understanding those who did.

Draco rolled his eyes and snorted. "Don't get all Gryffindor noble and sappy for Zabini. It was by his choice too. He doesn't like people knowing who he's dating anyway."

Dean frowned. "Just curious, Malfoy. Why isn't Zabini hiding Seamus as well if he's such a privacy freak?"

"Finnigan is hard to hide. He's way too obvious about his feelings. Zabini realized pretty early on that he couldn't keep the relationship a secret, not the way Finnigan carries on around him." The Slytherin smiled wickedly at Seamus. "For example, I noticed you were staring at Blaise with puppy dog eyes a lot today. That kind of behavior is not exactly conducive to a secret affair, is it?"

Seamus grimaced, blushing. "Do you think Blaise noticed that?" he asked dubiously.

"Probably," Draco replied. "And his friends did too, I'm sure."

"What are you all?" Harry muttered. "Bloody spies or something?"

Draco shrugged. "You learn to be. It pays to know how to keep your eyes and ears open."

"Okay," Seamus said, "so I don't hide my feelings. I know that. Can we get back to Valentine's Day and what Blaise likes to eat?"

The Slytherin raised an eyebrow at him. "You're sure you want to do this then, despite what I just told you."

"I'll take my chances, thanks."

"All right. Tell me what you have planned so far. We'll take it from there."

"Really? Just like that? You'll help me?" Seamus couldn't believe it would be quite that easy.

"Of course, Finnigan," Draco replied smoothly. "Zabini is my friend."

The Irish boy got the impression that someone just gave Draco Malfoy a very expensive present. "Maybe you should tell me how much this is going to cost me," he said dubiously.

Draco looked at him in mock incredulity. "You think I'd charge you for something like this?" He laid a hand flat on Harry's chest since the Gryffindor was blocking his own. "Finnigan! I am wounded." Harry glanced down at the hand on his chest then peered back suspiciously at Draco.

Dean bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. "It normally is not the Slytherin way to be altruistic like that, Malfoy, and you can't tell me otherwise. So what's Seamus going to have to do for you?" Seamus looked worriedly from Dean to Draco.

"You're wrong about me, Thomas. I'm not going to require anything from Finnigan. Now hurry up and tell me what you've got so far before I change my mind. I've got things I need to do." He glanced down at the Gryffindor in his arms. "Soon," he added smirking.

Harry rolled his eyes; glad it was dark as he felt his face go warm. His two friends looked at each other and snickered. Fortunately, Dean and Seamus couldn't hear the soft hiss floating out from beneath Harry's cloak.

* * * * *

The dark hallway appeared to be completely deserted. Not even Filch the caretaker or his cat, Mrs. Norris, could be found in this particular corridor. All was quiet and still...until the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps broke the silence. Suddenly, a sandy-haired boy pelted down the hall, frantically making his way to his destination. He had the appearance of someone about to miss curfew.

Seamus Finnigan spun around a corner and then skidded to a stop outside a classroom that appeared to be empty at this time of the night. He pushed open the door and stumbled in. Doubled over with a hand on each knee and gasping for air, he attempted to catch his breath.

"Congratulations, Finn" a low voice murmured. "It's only eight minutes past our agreed upon meeting time. That's practically early for you."

Still panting from his exertions, the Gryffindor looked up towards the direction of the voice. Blaise Zabini was lounging on one of the window ledges, reading a book with only the moonlight illuminating the pages for him. "Cat eyes," Seamus thought. He couldn't tell if the Slytherin was amused or annoyed.

"Sorry," the Irish boy panted. "Thanks for waiting."

"Where were you running from? Durmstrang?"

"No. Dean and I went out for a walk. We forgot the time so I had to hurry back." Seamus pulled a chair out near the window and flopped down on it.

"Sounds romantic."

Seamus snorted. "Dean's not my type, baby. I like 'em shorter and Italian." He glanced up at the reclining boy. Though Blaise appeared to still be reading his book, Seamus thought he could detect a faint blush on the other boy's cheeks. "Hmm. He liked that," he thought to himself, smiling. That was something to remember in dealing with his boyfriend's reserve. "Helps if they have galleon-colored eyes and a pretty face. That definitely eliminates Dean."

"Now you're being silly," Blaise admonished gently. "And you're also describing Blair, you know."

"I think her brother is way cuter and less scary."

"Why are you flirting with me, Finn?"

"Why are you trying to ignore me, Blaise?"

The Slytherin finally looked up from his book. "I'm not. I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"Are you mad at me?" the Irish boy asked.

"Are you going to tell me what Weasley knows about my love life?"

Seamus sighed. "I don't talk to him about us if that's what you're wondering. He gets too squicked out." He paused. "I had a dream about you last night. About us." He felt his own face getting warm. "I guess I was...um...talking in my sleep. Quite loudly from what my dorm mates tell me." He looked up at unfathomable golden eyes. "That's what Ron was referring to when he snapped at you." He shrugged. "Nothing more to it."

To Seamus' relief, the Slytherin's eyes softened and his mouth curled up into a smile. "You disturbed Weasley's sleep. I approve."

The Irish boy grinned. "Yeah. I guess you could put it that way." He glanced up at the ledge Blaise was lounging on. "Got room up there for one more?" he asked hopefully.

The other boy gazed at Seamus for a moment, then nodded and shifted back, folding his legs in closer to him. Seamus climbed up on the chair and settled in on the ledge beside his boyfriend. Sighing contentedly, he leaned sideways and rested his head on the Slytherin's knees.

"You're in such an odd mood, amico," Blaise commented, fingers lightly stroking his boyfriend's sandy-colored hair.

"Mmhmm." Seamus shuffled closer. Blaise could do more with a soft finger touch than most people could do with their hands, mouths and anything else combined.

"Tell me what you dreamed."

"No. It's too embarrassing. Besides, you're such a wise smarty prat, I'm sure you can work it out yourself."

Blaise paused in his stroking. "I'd rather you tell me."

"Then you "rather" in vain. Can we please not talk about it? The guys have been at me enough today." Seamus reached up and pulled the Slytherin's hand back down onto his hair. He sighed again as Blaise resumed stroking. "What's that?" he asked, noticing the book the other boy held.

"A book of sonnets. Granger loaned it to me. Written by a Muggle named William Butler Yeats."

Seamus chuckled. "If you've got the least bit of interest in anything remotely academic, Hermione will have a book to lend you."

Blaise snorted. "I guess so. I wasn't going to take it since all things Muggle are definitely not welcome in Slytherin House."

"I know. But somehow you couldn't find the balls to tell her no, right? Happens to us all the time. It's easier than fighting with her. So how's the Muggle?" he asked, indicating the book. "Any good?"

"Not too shabby, actually. Cheery bloke."

"Ok then. Let's hear something." Seamus liked it when Blaise read sonnets to him. Ordinarily, the Irish boy was not overly fond of any sort of serious poetry, especially since he did not have the mind or patience for metaphors and symbolism, but Blaise was somehow able to infuse the right amount of drama and soul into his recitation to make it interesting.

"This is the one I was reading when you came in." Blaise flipped open the book with one hand since the other one was still stroking Seamus' hair.

"THERE was a man whom Sorrow named his Friend,

And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming,

Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming

And humming Sands, where windy surges wend:

And he called loudly to the stars to bend

From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they

Among themselves laugh on and sing alway:

And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend

Cried out, Dim sea, hear my most piteous story!

The sea Swept on and cried her old cry still,

Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill.

He fled the persecution of her glory

And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping,

Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening.

But naught they heard, for they are always listening,

The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping.

And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend

Sought once again the shore, and found a shell,

And thought, I will my heavy story tell

Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send

Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart;

And my own tale again for me shall sing,

And my own whispering words be comforting,

And lo! my ancient burden may depart.

Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim;

But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone

Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan

Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him."

Seamus frowned. "So in other words," he intoned seriously, "life sucks but nobody cares."

"In a nutshell, yeah," Blaise said, snickering. "It's called The Sad Shepherd."

"Hunh! I hear the Muggles have pills for gloomy blokes like him."

"I would guess the Muggles need to have pills for everything since they don't have magic."

"Careful, Zabini. Your wizard snobbery is starting to show. Me dad's a Muggle, but he never takes pills."

"And you're telling me that your Madre never uses her magic to fix him up?"

"Mum doesn't. Pappy wouldn't let her. Says life itself has more than enough magic to heal up a simple Muggle from whatever ails him."

Blaise grimaced. "That's nauseating."

Seamus grinned. "That's me Pappy."

"No wonder you are the way you are," Blaise snorted, ruffling Seamus' hair.

"Which is?"

"Painfully cheerful."

"Gee. You say that like it's a bad thing, baby."

"Finn, why are you calling me baby?"

Seamus sat up and turned around, facing the other boy. "Because it makes you blush," he said smugly.

"Oh."

"Didn't think I noticed, eh? I'm not that thick. I don't often find things that make you blush. I like it when I do."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just do." Seamus took the book from the other boy, closing it and putting it aside. He leaned back for a moment, gazing at the golden-eyed boy next to him.

"What? I'm sprouting horns or something?"

"No," Seamus said, grinning. "You look gorgeous in moonlight. You should wear it more often." He snickered as the Slytherin blushed yet again.

"Stop it. Is that what you Irishmen refer to as blarney?" Blaise was unsuccessfully trying to scowl.

The Irish boy leaned forward. "Make me stop, if you can," he whispered, mere centimeters away from the other boy's face. When Blaise just stared at him mutely in response, he smirked. "Didn't think you could." He closed the distance between them, brushing his lips gently against his boyfriend's. At the contact, Blaise groaned and pulled the Irish boy closer, deepening the kiss. After several moments, the smaller boy shifted and allowed himself to be pulled onto Seamus' lap.

Much later, when breathing became critical, the two boys sat quietly together, Blaise still on Seamus' lap with his head on the Gryffindor's shoulder, fingers idly stroking the sandy-colored hair again. Seamus fingered the snug material the Slytherin wore under his robes. "Were you dancing or teaching?"

"A bit of both. I'm going to have Pansy die a very painful death for the hour I spent with her sister and some other bratty first years."

"That bad, eh?" Seamus chuckled.

"You have no idea."

"Such a waste on first years." The Irish boy grinned at Blaise. "Dance for me again sometime soon. I promise it won't be wasted."

"I'll think about it." Blaise sat up. "We should go. Curfew soon."

Seamus was going to protest, but he realized the last thing he wanted was to get caught and earn detention for tomorrow. "Yeah," he agreed reluctantly as Blaise shifted sideways off his lap. "I'd stay here all night with you if I could."

"You don't want to. Trust me. I look a mess in the morning."

The Irish boy laughed. "What's the big deal? Don't we all?" He held up his hands in surrender at the baleful expression on the other boy's face. "Okay, okay! I'll take your word for it. I just can't imagine you looking anything less than pretty."

"This is a high maintenance look, Finn. It doesn't just roll out of bed with me."

Both boys climbed off the ledge. "Right," Seamus said chuckling. "Not that I'd know. I'm sort of used to my low maintenance look." He watched in admiration as the Slytherin stretched cat-like beside him. "See you at breakfast then?" he asked innocently, not wanting to reveal his rapidly developing plans for Valentine's Day. "And smile at me a bit when you see me tomorrow, will you?"

"I'll think about it." Blaise picked up Hermione's sonnet book and stuck it in his pocket.

"You think far too much, baby."

"Try it someday, Finn."

"Ouch. Touché. C'mon, smarty prat. Your looks and wit won't get us out of detention if we're caught."

Chuckling, both boys walked out of the classroom, leaving it empty once again in peaceful moonlit silence.

TBC