Warning: There is none. MWAAHAHAHAHA!
A/N: For all of you who bitched at me for being fluffy, this is for you. So, I had the song Only You in my head, and here is the result. I'm so sorry it's not better. It's not my fault, I am merely the tool of my muse. Blame her.
Only You
Ordinary is not a word I would use to describe you. There is something in your blood that simply prevents you from being ordinary. Nothing about you is ever commonplace. Unlike everyone else in the world, you are a true original. You've got this magnetism oozing from your pores that I just can't ignore. Your smile is thoroughly stunning and your cheeky sense of humour will forever prevent me from being melancholy. From the way that you walk to the way that you talk, you are simply, purely, and divinely Seamus.
Everyone around you knows how extraordinary you are; everyone sees your radiance. Even you know this, I think, though you are never arrogant. There are some beautiful things in this world that simply cannot go unnoticed. Beauty is the one thing that makes life worth living. I've always sort of fancied that you are God's proverbial portrait of Dorian Gray. Perhaps you are the reason he continues to create beautiful things. His muse. The most beautiful thing in the world, and, like a painting, your beauty will never fade. Though you will someday grow old and wrinkled, you will never cease to be beautiful. But beauty is a very fickle thing. One man's art is another man's trash. Few things are universal when beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But you, my love, are one of those universal beauties.
In the time that we have known each other, really known each other, I have learned more about life and beauty than I did in all the time before you. I distinctly remember the holiday between sixth and seventh year when you let me come home with you for a while. You were afraid to show me where you lived. You thought I was going to make fun of you. But I fell in love with it. Unlike my house, yours was warm. There were real people living there. The house itself almost felt alive with all the energy of the people in it. People who laugh and cry and love and hate and feel absolutely nothing at all with all the passion in the world.
Sterile is the only way to describe my world. Well, my world before my father was taken away. Nothing in my world could ever be touched, it could only be admired through a glass case. But you... your life has always been for living. And you have no idea how precious that is. You were never chained to someone else's idea of the way life should be. Your existence was not arranged. You were created out of real human passion. You are the product of two people's love, whereas I am a product of necessity. My mother loves me more than anything; I know that, she's told me so. But she never planned on having children. Lucius only impregnated her because he needed an heir. Selfish fuck. But the nine months your mother carried you were spent in cheerful anticipation. Mine were spent in indifferent resignation.
I also remember the journey to the pub down the street from your old house. All sorts of people from all walks of life were there. Folks with only enough cutter left over from paying the bills to buy a hot mead. Then there were those who bought round after round of the best scotch money can buy, just because they could. Or the old man at the end of the bar who sat talking, though no one really listened. If you did, you might find that he took up that seat as a result of his wife's death. And then there was us and a few of the kids you grew up with. They seemed unaware of the separation between you and I. They seemed to think that I came from the same walk of life as the rest of you.
For the first time in my life I was on the same plane as everyone around me. I had been accepted for the first time in my entire life. As much as we would both have liked to believe I was wearing a mask that night, we both knew that it was the first time I had ever really been in my own skin. That is one of the greatest and most beautiful things you have ever shown me: what it is like to be in my own skin. You showed me that it is a beautiful thing and not to waste it by being petty and cold and full of prejudices. Before I met you, I never knew that I could be beautiful. Before I met you I wasn't beautiful.
I've been watching you from across the room for the last ten minutes. You've been standing with Sirius and my mother, talking about god only knows what. They have been laughing since you joined them, like there aren't at least a hundred other people milling about. You've got their undivided attention, and given the circumstances of the occasion, I am thoroughly stunned and amazed. But then again, you do have the ability to draw others in like no one I have ever met before. That's you: my alluring faerie in a man's body.
"The world has changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history." That statement was made for you. If not for you Voldemort would be ruling the world, my mother would still be chained to Lucius' side instead of joined with Sirius like she is now, and half of these people would be six feet under. If not for you I would be six feet under. I know I couldn't have lived with myself after my brief stint as a Death Eater if I hadn't met you. You washed away all of my sins and picked me out of the dirt. No one else ever even tried to do what you did. And for that I owe you my everything. For that, I am all for you.
*****
See. Told you it was bad.
Thanks to all of you who reviewed previous installments: