Note 1: This is slash. Boy on boy. M/M. Mano a mano so to speak, though its tame, with only a slight hint of citrus. So if you don't like it, leave, you were warned fairly. Any flames due to this issue will be used to burn close-minded people at the steak, the remainder will be used to roast tofu-dogs.
Note 2: I love Seamus, I think he is just the most adorable and least frequently used character in the HP fanfic world so I wanted to make this, if only for my own sweet Irish boy obsession. I also like writing Draco as somewhat human and not inherently evil to the core, which I really don't believe he is. So if you don't like it, or think characters are OOC, that's perfectly fine. Feel free to flame. Also, if you plan to read a much better story than this that has blazed trails for Slutty!Seamus fans everywhere, I suggest reading "Seamus is Seamus and You are Yourself" by Ari Munami, which is surely better than this is bound to turn out.
Note 3: word – denotes italics, the word is stressed or emphasized
-------------- – is a change of scene or POV
Note 4: This story will be updated once every 2 days, until all six parts are up.
Summary: After reading a tactless (if not true) entry in his best friend's journal, Seamus Finnigan vows to change his somewhat lecherous ways and exact his revenge on Dean Thomas. Unfortunately for our favourite Slytherin, Draco Malfoy is just the man to help him. M/M Seamus/Draco, Seamus/Dean.
Hello, My Name is Seamus and I'm a Slut-aholic . . . Part 1/6 By Kelly M.
hermindkillsyahoo.ca
A slut? Seamus Malachy Finnigan was not a slut.
Seamus reread the journal entry, Dean's neat, crisp handwriting glared up at him. The entry was dated three weeks ago. "Seamus kissed me for the first time tonight. I dunno what he meant by it though. He could just be joking, he does things like that. You can never tell if he's being serious. He's quite a bit of a slut really. A cute slut, but a slut nonetheless . . . "
"He does things like that?" What did that mean? It wasn't like he went around snogging everybody. He had restraint. Not loads of it, mind you, but enough to keep him from say, dry humping Snape in Potions . . . well, after the first time and two weeks detention, anyway. But that didn't make him a slut, did it? He'd never even, well, done it, with anyone.
Seamus was the first to admit he flirted, but then again who didn't? They were teenagers for the love of Mike. Raging hormones and all that. And sure, maybe where most people cut their flirtations off at a wink or a giggle and his generally drew the line at . . . well, some sort of groping . . . that didn't make him worse than anybody else. Just bolder. Er, right?
Slut just seemed so harsh, especially coming from Dean. He would never write something like that about his best friend in his journal. They were more than best friends, if he were going to be completely honest. How many friends kissed each other with tongue on a regular basis? He thought things had been going so well for him and his dorm-mate, and now he had to go read this stupid journal and find out that Dean thought of him as an eager man-whore. That little leather bound book sitting open on his friend's night stand had been too much to resist, though. That's what he got for being curious, the bloody cat was dead in a big way.
"Seamus? What are you doing?" Seamus dropped the book guiltily onto Dean's bedspread as Neville came into their room.
"Nothing Nev," he responded a little too quickly. Seamus could feel the red creep into his ears. "Just reading."
He eyed the book with interest, "What?"
"Uh . . . uh." Of course Neville was going to ask him what he was reading, Seamus was such an idiot. Why couldn't he just learn to lie under pressure like any normal teenager? "Erm, stuff for extra credit in Divination. Apparently I haven't predicted my death enough or something, mark's a little low," he mumbled, which wasn't entirely untrue. His Divination mark had started to slide since he and Dean had been skipping classes to spend some quality time behind the stacks of books in the library's study room. Not that he was really sure of what the other boy thought of him. Sometimes Dean seemed all for a relationship with Seamus, and other times he was distant.
"You can have some of my notes if you want," he smiled good-naturedly, "I've noticed you've missed some classes."
"Erm, yeah. That'd be great."
"Well, I just wanted to tell you we're heading down for dinner. You coming?"
"In a minute," he replied pensively, "Hey Neville?" He called out as the round faced boy reached the door.
"Yes?"
"Do you think I'm . . . a slut?"
"Um . . ."
Seamus shook his head, "Never mind, you don't have to answer that." He'd already got his answer from Neville's hesitation anyway. The other boy beat a hasty retreat down to the common room. Well, that settled it then. He was a slut. And a mad slut at that! How dare Dean? He knew what he was getting into before he lowered those chocolatey eyes and kissed Seamus for the first time. That was just who Seamus was; he wasn't going to change it no matter what he read in some stupid journal, no matter what anyone else thought.
But that didn't mean he couldn't pretend to have suddenly become cool and calm and horny-free. Seamus could almost hear the synapsis firing in his brain. What would his dear Dean think then, if he suddenly became "hard to get?" Oh this was too good for words. He repeated the phrase over in his head, deliciously slowly. Hard to get, hard to get. Seamus Finnigan was sexy, aloof, and hard to get. He grinned. If Seamus held out for a day, no, no, a week, if Seamus held out on even so much as winking at someone, especially Dean; if he became hot and untouchable for one whole week, they'd see who turned to slutitution. Dean would be begging him for the attention. But how?
There was the million dollar question, the coup d'etat, the cherry on the sundae, the . . . he was running out of analogies. Well, it was the most important part anyway. How could he become less like Seamus and more, well, more calm and cool and darkly appealing like . . . oh bloody hell . . .
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It was like Gryffindors to be odd, but this was just ridiculous. All he had wanted to do was to go to the bathroom near the Great Hall. Draco stared incredulously as Seamus Finnigan repeatedly banged his head against the bathroom wall, obviously unaware that he was not alone. "Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell!"
Draco had never given much thought to the boy, despite the fact they'd had Potions together for quite some time now because, frankly, he was a Gryffindor. He hadn't really warranted much attention except for his constant flirting with pretty much anything that moved. But now that he'd gone completely off the deep end, Draco wondered if he should have been looking for signs for this sort of thing, if only so he could one day say solemnly to a Daily Prophet reporter, "He was such a quiet boy, he seemed so nice. No one would have ever expected him to go on a murderous whip-cream and spray cheese rampage."
Not that one couldn't have expected this to happen some day, eventually. All that goodness and bravery and morality had to wear on a person, it was only natural that a Gryffindor go mad and start trying to vandalize school property with their skull. Draco backed quickly out of the boys washroom, the bathrooms off the Slytherin common room were much nicer anyway. And a lot safer for the bricks.
Still, he'd keep an eye on Finnigan. If only for his own amusement.