Draco/Seamus - for the prompt "smugness". Fic 5/50 for the Pairing diversity challenge at HPFC. Also written as an entry for the category "Pairings" for Lady's Writing School at HPFC.

Also, since I don't like reading accents, Seamus doesn't have one in this fic. Feel free to imagine as you wish.

Now, on to the fic!

...

Stupid fucking Malfoy, Seamus thought.

The blond ferret snarled something at Harry, but the boy did nothing in return except cower away slightly with that expression on his face that told anyone with half a brain that he was lost in his memories and thoughts. Malfoy didn't seem to notice, however, reinforcing Seamus' belief that the ferret didn't deserve to have the money and power that he had. Or life, really. The git didn't deserve anything.

Seamus felt frightened for Harry, thought the boy was always like that after he came back to Hogwarts after the summer – lost in thought, skinnier than ever, and looking skittish. It made Seamus wonder a bit, but at that moment, his attention was on the ferret.

Draco Malfoy, git extraordinaire, made him wish he had more violent tendencies; he deserved a good arse-kicking. The boy, tall but not gangly, perfectly put together all the time, made Seamus' blood boil, and not even in a good way. He made Seamus wish people could be sent to Azkaban just because, since no one so downright evil could possibly get away with it as long as Malfoy had. The Kiss would be too light a punishment for the evil bastard.

Harry had proved not to be the best target, and Seamus watched with interest as the scene unfolded before him - Malfoy was letting him go. As soon as Harry turned the corner, Seamus emerged from the shadows, intent on his target – Malfoy. He wasn't sure what had set him off, but Seamus felt waves of hatred flow through him at the mere sight of the ferret.

Half a thought about where the idiot's two guards were flew through his mind, but then he was pushing Malfoy up against the wall. Somehow, through the shock, Malfoy still had a trace of a smirk on his lips. He was clearly at a disadvantage, facing Seamus – at least half a head taller – and pinned up against the wall, but the little ferret still held his usual smug air about him.

"Watching out for Wonder Boy, are you?" Malfoy hissed under his breath. "I'd expect nothing more from an idiotic Gryffindor. You lot would do better to learn that sticking together makes a bigger, easier target for people who want to attack."

"Are you threatening us?" Seamus asked, the urge to dig his knee into Malfoy's groin nearly impossible to resist.

"And what if I am?"

At that cool answer, Seamus loosened his grip on the fabric of Malfoy's cloak, bringing both hands up around Malfoy's throat. Why didn't the bloody idiot go and off himself, he wondered. He leaned in close, trying to pull together two coherent thoughts through the haze of fury. "Idiotic Gryffindor or not," he said, "I still caught the scheming little Slytherin ferret by surprise, didn't I? Has to count for something."

Malfoy simply smirked, though there was a frantic glint in his eye when Seamus began to tighten his grip around Malfoy's windpipe. Even then, he ground out a, "Kinky, are we? I didn't think Gryffindors were into this type of thing – bondage, sadism, I'm sure you know. Maybe the rumors about those massive orgies in Gryffindor tower are right."

Seamus let go as though Malfoy had burned him with his words. His cheeks lit up in embarrassment. He took a step back.

Malfoy, idiot bastard Death Eater that he was, took a step closer.

Seamus gasped when Malfoy extended a hand with the speed only a good Seeker possessed.

Slap.

Seamus kept his head bent down, trying to deal with the sting and ringing pain on his cheek without letting tears reach the surface.

He looked up moments later, only to find Malfoy's eyes shining in the relative darkness of the corridor. "Don't play with fire, Finnigan, else you'll get burnt," Malfoy said, dropping his voice to a low rumble, glaring straight at Seamus. Seamus felt the stirrings of pure fear curl up in the pit of his stomach at the look - one which could rival, if not beat, Snape's - along with something else.

"I thought you were the Ice King, ferret," he retorted, trying to process everything. "Maybe you should be careful not to play with fire, else you'll melt – like the evil incarnate you are."

Malfoy shrugged, missing the muggle reference. "I'm mysterious," he said simply, narrowing his eyes as Seamus' eyes widened and his lips curled into a sneer.

"As if," Seamus scoffed, fear of danger dissipating after the few moments of stillness. It was probably a Gryffindor thing. "Everyone knows you're going to grow up to be your father's shadow, and would be surprised if you didn't already have the Dark Mark. You hate Muggles, torment the younger years, abuse any and all power handed to you, and have some sort of grudge against Harry. Piss off with the 'mysterious' shit, get your head out of your arse, and sort your life out."

Malfoy took another step closer, right into Seamus' face.

"I am not like my father," he said, warm breath flowing over Seamus' cheek. He, from his position, could see the twin spots of colour high on Malfoy's cheeks, and knew he'd struck a nerve.

"I'll have you know," Seamus began, "That Harry will put you in your rightful place – Azkaban – like he did to your father."

"You'll pay for that!" Malfoy shouted, fury colouring his expression.

"With what, Malfoy dearest?" He scoffed. "You've no daddy to fall back on now. Who're you going to sic on me, those dolts of living meat that always follow you?" Malfoy raised his right arm, fist poised to strike at the bundle of nerves at Seamus' collarbone. Seamus easily caught the arm, and then he took another step back, heart hammering. Breath coming in gasps, adrenaline pumping through him, he said, "Show me your left arm then, Death Eater scum."

"Arsehole-fucking Gryffindor shit," mumbled Malfoy, reaching down to roll his sleeve up. Pushing it up with a ferocity Seamus hadn't known Malfoy possessed, the sleeve made a tearing sound. "Ruining my most fucking expensive- Look! Nothing. I'm no fucking Death Eater, and if any of you made half the effort to step back from fucking prejudices… Excuse me, I have better ways to be spending my time."

He turned away just as Seamus began to put a sentence together in his head, but by the time he thought to run after Malfoy, the Slytherin had disappeared. Still unable to picture a world in which Malfoy wasn't yet a Death Eater, Seamus sank down to the floor, shaking slightly for no reason, overwhelmed with emotion and blankness, all at once.

No reason at all.

Except he knew why.

Malfoy had come into his personal space, had shouted at him, shown some real emotion – which happened to be anger – for once.

And Seamus was hard.

Achingly so.

It was impossible, stupid, and Seamus hated himself for it.

There was nothing remotely attractive about Draco Malfoy, pointy-faced, muggle-hating, evil shit that he was. But he held himself with power, with confidence, with self-assurance.

Seamus had to remind himself that he'd been following Malfoy up to the point where the blond bastard had found Harry to harass. Truthfully, he'd been following the intriguing ferret for days - weeks, if he was to be honest. What had he been thinking all that time? Images of the blond flashed through his mind, and his interest grew at some of the more interesting images he'd gathered over the days since the beginning of term.

Scowling at the ground, he stood up and made his way to the nearest loo to relieve himself. It took no time before he finished, groaning sharply with the image of Malfoy playing through his mind, practically pushing against Seamus with that dangerous look.

Full of self-loathing, Seamus emerged a few minutes later, determined to go up to Gryffindor tower and hope that it had all been a very strange dream; a consequence of spending too many hours poring over the increasingly dark Prophet every morning and dealing with the stresses of living through a war.

A shudder ran down his spine, that prickly feeling as though someone was watching him. Fear and embarassment and a myriad of other feelings he couldn't even dream to name filled him, and he ran up to the tower, hiding in his dormitory until he fell into a fitful sleep. He slept badly that night, tossing and turning and waking too many times, always falling back into the darkness of sleep to dream of flashing gray eyes and smooth, pale skin. He dreamt of that sardonic smirk, those long fingers, and the way Malfoy didn't even seem to put any effort into his insults - and they were still witty and effective.

He dreamt of their encounter earlier in the corridor, imagining that instead of slapping him, Malfoy had pulled him in, pressing their lips together. He imagined them waking up together, Malfoy looking immaculate and laughing at him, imagined them sharing hours and hours in front of a warm fire, simply relaxing in the other's presence.

What a fucking joke he was. So pathetic.

But Seamus wanted it - badly. So badly it almost hurt.

Seamus scoffed at himself, his hatred of Malfoy growing by the second.

Stupid fucking Malfoy.

Note to Lady, if/when she reads this: I hope this is okay for the category, given that it wasn't really, er, romantic, and ended up being rated 'M'. Er, yeah. I hope it's fine.