A Seamus/Draco slash fic by the Unholy Trinity of Wyv, Bel and Lan, inspired by the song "Going to Pasalacqua", by Green Day, from the album 39/Smooth.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all things Potter. Green Day own the lyrics to "Going to Pasalacqua". We own the album the song's on :)
Warning: Slash. Ye like not, ye read not, understand?
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*Here we go again, infatuation/ Touches me just when I/ Thought that it would end*
Gods, you're beautiful. Beautiful like a marble statue, and about as warm. I stare at you across the classroom, and I think, why? Why me? Why you? Hell, why not? And as I stare at you, as I forget that adding dragon's blood while the cauldron is still on the fire is dangerous, as my cauldron explodes with the force of a small bomb, I can't help but think how it would be if we ever got together. Even though I realise it's impossible, I can't help thinking about it, and I smile.
"What's so funny, Finnigan?" demands Snape, swooping down on me like an overgrown bat.
"Nothing, sir," I reply, still grinning.
"Well, laugh at this: Detention, tonight, eight o'clock." I curse inwardly and look over at you. You're smirking in that evil but oh-so-sexy way I find just plain irresistible.
Damn you, Malfoy. Why do you have to be the sexiest, most shaggable guy I've ever laid eyes on? Why? Is it the notorious bad-boy charm? I've fallen for a few bastards in my time, but they weren't like you. You just seem to ooze a dangerous appeal. And I must admit I'm quite partial to a bit of danger. Keeps life exciting, doesn't it?
No-one knows about this, amazing as this might seem. I can keep my secrets when I want to, and believe me, I don't want anyone to know about this, they'll want to get me certified or something. It's my very own little secret, and I'm rather proud of it. I might consider letting you know one day. Maybe.
I'm amazed at how long I've had this thing for you. It started sometime in fifth year, I think. No signals, no warning that this was about to happen, nothing. There I was, quite prepared to hate you for being the irritating, snobby Slytherin that you are, when this infatuation pounced on me and sank it's teeth in, and I started to realise that, despite your obvious character flaws, despite the fact that you're the son of the most notorious Death Eater on the planet, you are perfect. You have the perfect body, you're gorgeous.
At first I dismissed it as some sort of temporary insanity caused by too much sugar or something, and I'd almost got myself convinced when the dreams started. Erotic dreams. Dreams about you and me, dragon hide, whips, handcuffs - you name it, I dreamt it. I even surprised myself. And it just grew from there, I guess.
But, you know, sometimes you can be such a twat that I forget all that and go back to hating you, like any normal, sane Gryffindor should. Then my infatuation starts taking over again, because I notice that you've done your hair differently and it frames your face beautifully, or you sneer, curling your lip in that oh, so sexy way that I love. Or even it's just because that Pansy Parkinson has latched herself onto you, and I start feeling jealous. It's never-ending. Just when I think it's over, it pounces again. It's just not fair, really.
I'd love to be the one to break that icy exterior. To plunge below the surface and find a Draco Malfoy that no-one knows, that I alone hold the key to. A warm, caring, maybe even sensitive Draco Malfoy, a Draco Malfoy who could love. Hell, fuck that, I'd give anything for just one night of wild, unbridled, passionate sex with you.
However, despite my fantasies, I know that we'll never be together, and it kills me. It's not just the fact that I'm a Gryffindor and you're a Slytherin, even though that alone would make any kind of relationship impossible. There's also the fact that I'm a half-breed, a Mudblood, and that would offend your precious Pureblood pride. I'm also the most annoying bastard in the universe. Why would you ever look twice at me?
But I look at you. Oh, yes, I look. I can't help myself. Every day, in Potions, or Care of Magical Creatures, I look over at you, and lose myself once again in my fantasies. What would it be like to kiss those lips? What would it be like to run my hands over that skin that looks so soft? Damn you, Draco. Why? Why couldn't I find someone worthier to lose my heart to? Someone who a) could love me as much as I love them and b) is not a Slytherin.
I'll tell you why. Because anyone else just wouldn't be the same. They wouldn't have that beautiful, shiny blond hair, those stormy, grey, gorgeous eyes, that slim, sexy, athletic body, that perfect, pale, flawless skin.
You'd better be careful, Draco. One day I might find the courage to act upon my desires, and then where would we be?
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all things Potter. Green Day own the lyrics to "Going to Pasalacqua". We own the album the song's on :)
Warning: Slash. Ye like not, ye read not, understand?
*************************************************************************************************
*Here we go again, infatuation/ Touches me just when I/ Thought that it would end*
Gods, you're beautiful. Beautiful like a marble statue, and about as warm. I stare at you across the classroom, and I think, why? Why me? Why you? Hell, why not? And as I stare at you, as I forget that adding dragon's blood while the cauldron is still on the fire is dangerous, as my cauldron explodes with the force of a small bomb, I can't help but think how it would be if we ever got together. Even though I realise it's impossible, I can't help thinking about it, and I smile.
"What's so funny, Finnigan?" demands Snape, swooping down on me like an overgrown bat.
"Nothing, sir," I reply, still grinning.
"Well, laugh at this: Detention, tonight, eight o'clock." I curse inwardly and look over at you. You're smirking in that evil but oh-so-sexy way I find just plain irresistible.
Damn you, Malfoy. Why do you have to be the sexiest, most shaggable guy I've ever laid eyes on? Why? Is it the notorious bad-boy charm? I've fallen for a few bastards in my time, but they weren't like you. You just seem to ooze a dangerous appeal. And I must admit I'm quite partial to a bit of danger. Keeps life exciting, doesn't it?
No-one knows about this, amazing as this might seem. I can keep my secrets when I want to, and believe me, I don't want anyone to know about this, they'll want to get me certified or something. It's my very own little secret, and I'm rather proud of it. I might consider letting you know one day. Maybe.
I'm amazed at how long I've had this thing for you. It started sometime in fifth year, I think. No signals, no warning that this was about to happen, nothing. There I was, quite prepared to hate you for being the irritating, snobby Slytherin that you are, when this infatuation pounced on me and sank it's teeth in, and I started to realise that, despite your obvious character flaws, despite the fact that you're the son of the most notorious Death Eater on the planet, you are perfect. You have the perfect body, you're gorgeous.
At first I dismissed it as some sort of temporary insanity caused by too much sugar or something, and I'd almost got myself convinced when the dreams started. Erotic dreams. Dreams about you and me, dragon hide, whips, handcuffs - you name it, I dreamt it. I even surprised myself. And it just grew from there, I guess.
But, you know, sometimes you can be such a twat that I forget all that and go back to hating you, like any normal, sane Gryffindor should. Then my infatuation starts taking over again, because I notice that you've done your hair differently and it frames your face beautifully, or you sneer, curling your lip in that oh, so sexy way that I love. Or even it's just because that Pansy Parkinson has latched herself onto you, and I start feeling jealous. It's never-ending. Just when I think it's over, it pounces again. It's just not fair, really.
I'd love to be the one to break that icy exterior. To plunge below the surface and find a Draco Malfoy that no-one knows, that I alone hold the key to. A warm, caring, maybe even sensitive Draco Malfoy, a Draco Malfoy who could love. Hell, fuck that, I'd give anything for just one night of wild, unbridled, passionate sex with you.
However, despite my fantasies, I know that we'll never be together, and it kills me. It's not just the fact that I'm a Gryffindor and you're a Slytherin, even though that alone would make any kind of relationship impossible. There's also the fact that I'm a half-breed, a Mudblood, and that would offend your precious Pureblood pride. I'm also the most annoying bastard in the universe. Why would you ever look twice at me?
But I look at you. Oh, yes, I look. I can't help myself. Every day, in Potions, or Care of Magical Creatures, I look over at you, and lose myself once again in my fantasies. What would it be like to kiss those lips? What would it be like to run my hands over that skin that looks so soft? Damn you, Draco. Why? Why couldn't I find someone worthier to lose my heart to? Someone who a) could love me as much as I love them and b) is not a Slytherin.
I'll tell you why. Because anyone else just wouldn't be the same. They wouldn't have that beautiful, shiny blond hair, those stormy, grey, gorgeous eyes, that slim, sexy, athletic body, that perfect, pale, flawless skin.
You'd better be careful, Draco. One day I might find the courage to act upon my desires, and then where would we be?