A/N: Hullo, all. Actually put some thought into this one. Wow! Gasp! I know, eh? I've recently discovered the X-men fandom (movie), so keep an eye out for upcoming fics for those folks. Ooh, yes. What is this pairing called? Reamus? Romus? Sean?

MOO: #23

Pairing: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Lavender/Parvati, Greg/Vince, Ron/Seamus

Dedication: For Ravie, for being so patient with me. Sorry, doll! You know how absent-minded I get! (giggles insanely) See you soon, ye fa' arse! (affectionate punch) There may very well be Scirish tagging.

Disclaimer: Non meus sunt.

Warning: Slash...ummm...I think that's it...

Love is very, very strong, Hate is even stronger. Either way, you can't keep away from the object of your emotion. So it is with Harry and Draco. They have one hell of a love-hate thing going on between them. Doesn't really matter which, the end result's the same--some serious BDSM is going on between those blokes, which will not be detailed here. Their relationship, frankly, disgusts me.

There are other emotions, too, obviously. Less strong. Instead of driving you towards someone, they drive you away. 'Crushing' on someone and loathing them. Both ensure that the person's always in your thoughts, for better or worse, but in the physical sense is kept as far away from you as humanly possible. Such is the case for Ron and Hermione. She is 'crushing' on Ron and they're dating.

Ron and I have something in common. We really, really loath Hermione.

Here I am, sitting behind Ron in Charms, watching Hermione giggle and touch and tease and prod and irritate Ron. I slide my quill across the parchment, smooth and soft as melted honey in the sun. Words take form.

Lavender and Parvati twitter like the stupid larks they are.

"Birds of a feather flock together" my quill picks out in shiny black ink.

Greg and Vince are sniggering at something, I don't know what, grunting their hoarse, crude laughs.

"So do pigs and swine" claims the ragged letters.

Harry and Draco exchange glances. Hate or love and most of all lust. Doesn't matter. Never will.

"Rats and mice will have their choice" the glistening black streaks inform.

"Seamus?" Ron asks, twisting around to face me. "Spare a quill, mate? Mine's busted." He spots my idle writing and cocks his head to try and read it. He reacjes over and turns the page so he can make out the words. "I know that rhyme..." he mutters absently, trying to remember where he had heard it.

I find a quill and hold it out. He jerks himself out of his thoughts and his fingertips trace the lines of my palm as he slowly takes the quill from my hand into his. His gaze is locked in mine, mine in his. Blue to green, green to blue.

"Thanks," he mumbles, not removing his hand from mine. A sharp elbow from Hermione and his head whips around and his torso twists. "What?"

"Pay attention, Ron!" she hisses, shooting me a glare. I don't really care, though.

"I am," he snarls back. He turns, gives me a look and a squeeze of the hand. I sigh and go back to taking notes. He's accidentally taken my scrap parchment.

A minute later, he reaches his hand out behind him. With my parchment held between two fingers. I take it. He has written in the last line of the rhyme.

"So will I have mine"