Present/ past tense is killing me, as is first person point of view (I just suck at that). Enjoy figuring it out. (Seamus and Dean are not mine, but I'd like to have an ickle bunny named Shae and a fish named Dean…talk about forbidden love….) Bring on the non-canon cliché!
Christmas was a rather nice time of the year, when you averaged it all out. Presents were given, good cheer was spread, large feasts were presented to those students who chose to stay at school rather than go home to annoying relatives or otherwise, and there was an abnormally copious amount of snow on the grounds, which students found was just perfect for throwing at each other. Because really, who didn't like throwing packed, icy snow at your House's rival? Plus there are no awkward situations involving the questioning of the relevance of a rabbit and eggs to the birth of a certain Son of God.
But then, there was one thing that threw the whole 'Christmas is jolly' ideal all out of whack. And that one thing, which was actually a small thing when looking at in my perspective, happened to be a subject of conflicted emotions in perfect honesty. Its small, white berries promised one moment, one moment, that could either make or break someone. Its pointed, almost prickly, green leaves, which reminded me of the matte-finished photos mum would purchase at the Super-mart, held you in a silent vow; one that you couldn't possibly back out on. Yes, mistletoe just spoke that much to me, with its talk of risky promises and unbreakable oaths.
And it certainly didn't help if it was enchantedmistletoe. It was the poisoned cherry to my arsenic-laced sundae if it was a guaranteed Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes enchanted mistletoe.
Naturally, I avoid the damn plant. Everyone does. Well, everyone who travels in packs with people who they don't really want to lock lips with, does. And seeing as I don't feel any particular eagerness to kiss my best mate, whenever I walk down the halls with Seamus, we keep a weathered eye on the horizon for any mistletoe. We always see the mistletoe before it's too late, that way.
But I guess Fate wasn't having any fun that way, was he?
--
It was right after Divinations, and Seamus and I were walking down the stairwells to get to Transfiguration in time. I was smiling to myself as Seamus continued his rant on how perfectly beastly the lessons were in both classes, and although he just mightbe able to see how we would use Transfigurations in the 'real world' he couldn't possibly find a way in which Divinations would be useful in the least. I agreed wholeheartedly.
"I mean, say I needed a teaspoon and all I had was a knife. Yeah, I could use Transfigurations to change th' knife to a spoon, but say all I knew was Divinations?" he continued, his Irish accent strong as ever as he gestured flamboyantly with his free hand while the other held the messenger bag in which all of his supplies were kept. "Oh, yeah, I'd be able to predict that in five minutes, I'd still have a knife rather than th' teaspoon that I needed!" I laughed at this, though he had repeated that phrase often enough to patent it. It was just the way he said it, I guess.
We passed a group of third-year Hufflepuff girls, who were pointing at us and giggling. Seamus paused momentarily in his ostentatious movements to give a mock salute to the girls before continuing his tirade. This only made the girls giggle harder, clutching to each others' elbows as they fairly trotted up the stairs and out of ear-and-eye-shot. It was amazing how few people we had passed on the stairways down from Trelawney's, but that just showed how perfectly wonderful her class was. He said this out loud, amazingly voicing my thoughts impeccably.
I laughed harder at this, and turned to the entrance of a corridor at the foot of the stairs, perfectly in step with Seamus. Just as I was about to take another step, I found myself unable to move any further, forward or back, as if someone had tied an invisible fishing line from my ankle to the doorframe. Wait…
With a sinking feeling growing steadily in the pit of my stomach, I slowly looked upward, my dark brown eyes widening in fear. I cursed under my breath when I spotted the small plant, a small tag with the barely legible logo, 'WWW' sticking out of the top, hanging above me in the doorframe. Seamus wasn't nearly as subtle, or child-friendly. The steady torrent of obscenities that fell from his mouth as he glared up at the mistletoe was more than enough to make his Irish heritage proud. In fact, he spent a good five minutes offending the mistletoe, its mother, and its girlfriend. I probably would have laughed, if I weren't stuck under the mistletoe with him.
Stuck under the mistletoe. With my best mate Seamus.
Okay, now Christmas was really beginning to be a bugger. Not to say, of course, that it wasn't already a bit of a bugger, but this really took the cake. Well, to make that last statement a bit more holiday spirited, it really took the fruitcake.
I looked around the corridor, which was thankfully empty. If something like this had to happen, at least it happened now, in an area vacant of anyone to use this as blackmail against us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Seamus still cursing the mistletoe (literally; he had gotten his wand out, despite the 'no magic in the corridors' rule, and was now yelling jinx after hex after curse at the thing), and I figured that it'd be a while before we could get ourselves out from under the plant. I guess we'd be missing Transfiguration today. Looking at my wristwatch, I confirmed it; the class had already started, and Seamus looked like he was in no position to stop cursing the plant. Damned Irish and their temper. Or maybe it's just Seamus. Yeah, that's probably it.
About half an hour later found me leaning against the doorframe, watching as Seamus huffed and puffed and panted his last, futile, hex at the plant, which was deflected. I raised my eyebrows at him as he slumped backwards onto the opposite side of the doorframe. "Done, are we?" I asked sarcastically. He waved me off with his middle finger, still panting from overexerting himself. So I continued, straightening up, "So, you ready to get out from under here?"
Seamus's head shot back up to look at me, his eyes widening as if he had just remembered why he was cursing the mistletoe; he'd probably forgotten in his excitement. I rolled my eyes at him. "So how do you want to go about getting out of the enchantment?" I tilted my head in the direction of the mistletoe. His eyes were still wide as he mouthed the word, 'what?' at me. I ignored this, and continued on with my train of thought out loud. "We could try just a little kiss on the cheek, but I don't think that'd work. This isa Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' guaranteed enchanted mistletoe." I think I saw Seamus's eyes widen more at this, but it was hard to tell, considering that his eyes were already so wide. Admittedly, I couldn't help but take a perverse sort of pleasure in teasing him like this. "The same goes for a peck on the lips. I mean, we could try if you want to, but—"
"What are you bloody talking about?" he finally managed to get out, quite cleanly interrupting me. He had pushed himself up off the doorframe, and was running a hand through his sandy hair, messing it up further. His face was sporting a lovely blush, too; I love getting him riled up.
"I'm talking about getting out from under the mistletoe." I couldn't help but grin; the look he was giving me was hilarious.
"Well it sounds like you're bloody well looking forward to it!" he said, pointing his finger at me; he had long since abandoned his schoolbag, as had I.
"Am not!" I immediately denied, then paused. "Well, actually I am—"
"You prat!" he exclaimed, his checks flushing redder still.
"God, Seamus, I was about to say that I was looking forward to get out from under the damn plant, but then you had to go and over-analyze things!" I said in a huff, crossing my arms over my chest, and turning my head away.
"Oh…" he mumbled, stumped. Then he gave me a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh." After a few moments of awkward silence, I uncrossed my arms, and turned back to look at him. We stood like that, both our arms hanging limply by our sides, staring at each, with about a foot and a half of distance between us, due to the doorframe being rather narrow. My grin had dropped a little. A few more moments passed before Seamus began swinging his arms idly, looking away a little, as he said slowly, "So…let's just get it over with, eh?" I smiled a little at him, but nervousness was growing at an exponential rate in the pit of my stomach.
"Aye," I replied, causing him to look back up at me. If it wasn't for my dark skin, I'm sure my face would have been as red as my best mate's. I was suddenly acutely aware that we were both beginning to lean in, but slowly, slowly. Seamus wasn't looking at me, and instead out of the corner of his eye, in the general direction of our schoolbags. Every so often, his blue-green eyes would flick to my face, but would flick back to our schoolbags. Why was this taking so long? He had his eyes closed by now. We were still leaning in, and he was tilting his up a little to make up for the five or so centimeters of difference between our heights. I closed my eyes too. We were still both moving so slowly. Couldn't we just get this ov—
Oh.
His lips landed on the little space between my chin and my lower lip, so I tilted my head downward while he moved his up, and—we were kissing. As soon as this fact registered in my mind—and probably his too—we began to pull away, convinced that this would allow us to step outside the reach of the mistletoe, I felt what seemed like vines wrap around the back of my head, pulling me back to Seamus. I opened my own eyes in surprise to find his eyes fly open, and he began thrashing and flailing around. His movements began to become more restricted as the vines began roping us together, our arms being tied to our sides, and our legs stuck together. The result was something similar to a Total Body Bind Curse. Only our lips were still locked. Seamus soon caught my own eyes with his, trying to convey his thoughts to me telepathically. I didn't have to know Occulomency to know what he was thinking; something along the lines of, 'What's bloody happening?!' seemed sufficient.
I tried to say 'I don't know' but it only came out as a vibration against his lips. To my shock, I saw his eyes roll back a little, and his eyelashes fluttered. It must have felt good to him… So I tried it again. The reaction was a bit more profound this time; Seamus pressed his lips harder against mine, causing my own lips to vibrate as he tried to say something. Oh. It did feel good. I pressed against him like he had a few second before. Someone opened their mouth—I'm not sure who was first—to get more of the vibrations, and the other soon followed suit. I felt some sort of noise—it might have been a whimper—as it moved from Seamus's throat through my mouth; or it may have been from my throat through his mouth. I'm not sure anymore.
I just knew that it felt good.
And then I could move my hands, and they were gripping sandy Irish hair, and I'm sure it must've hurt, but I didn't care that much, because Irish hands had sneaked up the back of my shirt, and they were a little cold, but they felt so good. Then I felt him backing me up until he had me pressed against the doorframe, with his hands still up my shirt, but they were getting warm from our body heat, and then his tongue found its way in my mouth, and it felt better than ever, and why hadn't I tried this before?
And then it stopped.
Because both our eyes had popped opened at the sound of the small cough to the right of us (right for me, left for Seamus).
Rather than moving our heads, our eyes swiveled to the direction of the cough and were met with the sight of a slightly flustered Hermione, her books clutched tightly to her chest and the color especially red in her cheeks, a flabbergasted Ron and Harry, whose jaws were dropped in identical shock, and a slightly confused Neville, who, in his surprise, had dropped Trevor. On the floor by his feet, I saw the little toad begin to make a break for it. When I tried to warm him of his escapee I noticed that I couldn't; Seamus's tongue was still halfway down my throat. I bit it lightly, and his eyes snapped to mine, apparently just now realizing where exactlyall of his body parts were as he reeled in his tongue and slowly extracted his hands from my shirt and robes. I disentangled my hands from his soft sandy hair, and he stepped back, staring now at four of our fellow Gryffindors. It was now that they suddenly regained their capability of speech.
"What the bloody hell were you two doing?!"
"I'm sorry but you weren't in Transfiguration and I got worried and—"
"I always suspected you, Finnegan, but Thomas?!"
"—And in the bloody corridor, too! I mean, my bloody eyes, mate!"
"—so I dragged them to the hallways looking for you and there you were but—"
"—And Seamus I always thought you had something for Lavender but—"
"…Did I miss something?"
I cleared my throat loudly, shutting them all up, as I reached down to grab my schoolbag. "We got trapped under the mistletoe. It was a Weasley product," I added, sending a pointed look in Ron's direction; his face immediately gained a look of understanding, as did the rest of them. Glancing at my watch, I said, "Well, we already missed Transfigurations, since someone—" I raised my eyebrows at Seamus who blushed further, "—found the need to insult the plant's girlfriend for half an hour—"
"I didn't spend th' whole time insulting its girlfriend--!"
"—So I guess we'll just go along to Charms now. I'll need to get the Transfiguration assignment from you in the Common room later, Hermione." I turned to Seamus, who had picked up his schoolbag as well. "C'mon, Seamus, let's get to class before another mistletoe springs up on us." He nodded, and fell into step with me as we walked past our dumbfounded peers. As soon as they were well out of earshot, Seamus turned and grinned at me.
"What?" I demanded, feeling my cheeks and the tips of my ears warm up a little.
"Still think mistletoe is the root of all evil?"
"I never said that," I scoffed, waving him off.
"You did say that it was the poisoned cherry to your arsenic-laced sundae, though…"
I hummed a little at him, but did not respond directly. He just grinned harder and bumped shoulders with me. I gave him a smirk, and bumped back harder. He took the challenge, and knocked my shoulder harder still. We continued this until I had all but slammed him into the wall. I grinned at him, and he grinned back. Then he grabbed my tie, and yanked me forward, pressing his lips to mine again. It took me a moment to realized what was going on, but once I did, I was all for it.
So I guess Christmas isn't such a bugger in the whole folk-traditions aspect…as far as mistletoe goes.
Ho-hum. There ya go. Some nice, fluffy, non-canon, clichéd crap. 'm trying to get back into the writing business, but as you should all know, that's a bit tough. I'm on a bit of a Harry Potter streak, too, as you can tell; I'm rereading the whole series for my Harry Potter Book Fan Club so I can answer questions correctly and win points for Ravenclaw, me house :3. But, um, yes. I suck. Very much so. But, DeanSeamus/ SeamusDean does not, so I'm hoping that writing this will bring my suck-level down a bit. One can only hope, eh? Oh, and sorry for any grammar, spelling, etc. mistakes I may have made; I tend to write it, then never read it again; I don't much like my writing.
And to think I promised meself I'd never write first point of view EVER AGAIN. (I tend to go thought-crazy, stuffing every single thing that pops into my head, onto the screen.) But…I hope I didn't go too overboard. It's too bad I couldn't fit more Neville in there, though…But if I had tried, it would've set the whole thing off, I'm afraid.
As for the kiss scene, I winged it; I've never been kissed, so I don't know how it feels, or what exactly is supposed to be going on. I just went on instinct. And what I've read in fanfics previous, of course. (And to think mother told me they'd never help me in real life! …Well, they haven't, yet, but someday…!) So I really ought to finish this up, seeing as I only have thirty minutes of battery on this thing. I dedicate this "lovely" piece of fiction to Chad, whose good nature and pure spazz-ety I will remember years from now, and after whom I will name my fifth son…and my cute little pony plushie.