TITLE: 'The Gods must be Crazy'

AUTHOR: Elizabeth

EMAIL: nutshell11@hotmail.com

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Harry Potter. I can safely say that Ms. Rowlings version is very different to mine. I'm not making any profit from this...but I am having fun...

SUMMARY: It was through the chance infestation of festering flu that our intrepid heroes were drawn together. Dark warred with light, ebony calshed against gold, but finally they succumbed to a passion greater than any they had ever known.

Or, possibly - festering flu, bored Seamus...stuff happened.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Also known as The Part where Liz Justifies her 'R' Rating.

Also known as the part where Liz exploits Disney, though not for her own selfish gain.

Dedicated to Sara, cause she - um - read the fic

FEEDBACK: Would be really appreciated.

******************



It was a pity, Harry thought, that not one of the upcoming exams would mention the back of Seamus' head. After three classes of staring at it, he felt sure he'd get a higher mark than Hermione even.

He imagined the sort of questions that might come up about Seamus' head. He easily skimmed through the ones involving hair-colour, head-shape, and hair partings. He took a little more time on the complicated ones like - hair texture ('thick and rough…but sort of soft. Sort of'), and what the back of his head said about Seamus himself. ('It tells you that - that he's kind of careless, because it isn't brushed very well. And on the days it sticks up you know that he's' - )

"…sleeping."

*No, * Harry thought, that wasn't right. If there was one thing Seamus wasn't, it was sleepy. He had so much unfocused energy it was frightening. Sleepy was completely off target.

"_Harry! _" Hermione whispered harshly. "Are you asleep?!"

He jumped. Hermione nodded at the top of the class, where Hagrid was beaming down at him, like a delighted sun.

"We did a bit about it while the rest of ye were sick. Harry'll be able to tell ye all about that. Eh, Harry?"

He stared helplessly at Hagrid, who smiled trustingly back.

"Um…."

Into the stretched silence came a familiar drawl

"Even his prize _pets _ aren't interested in what that savage has to say."

Ron turned around in his seat, the better to glare at Draco Malfoy and his cronies. Harry dug his fingernails into his palms. They were short, so it didn't hurt as much as the bewildered look on Hagrid's face.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No, no. Maybe…maybe the question was a bit hard."

Harry dug his fingernails in harder. He considered growing them.

****************************

"Harry!" Hermione sounded scandalised.

"What?" he asked, dumping his books onto the table.

"This is _Potions _," she said. The tone of her voice suggested that Harry should be able to work it out for himself.

"I know. That's why we're in the potions class. And why Snape is at the top of the room."

"But…we can't sit in the _back _"

"Why not?"

"Because Snape always picks on the people in the back. And he picks on _us _ no matter where we are. If _we're _ in the back, things can only get worse," Ron theorised gloomily. However, he slid in next to Harry.

"And exams are right around the corner. How are we supposed to get a good mark if we can't _see _?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked down. "I'm, um, sitting here. I can see fine." Which was true insofar as it related to Seamus' head, three rows in front.

Hermione stared disbelievingly at him. Harry got the feeling that his actions were akin to graffiti or reckless destruction of property in her world.

"Miss Granger, do you plan on blocking up my classroom indefinitely? Or are you going to sit down?"

Hermione threw one last glance back, before sitting down…seven rows in front of them.

"Spat with the little Mudblood girlfriend?" Draco Malfoy leaned over to ask.

Harry opened his mouth to reply.

"Potter! Five points from Gryffindor for talking after class has begun."

He snapped his mouth shut. Malfoy grinned at his friends.

As Snape began to talk, Ron scribbled something on his paper, then pushed it towards Harry. Trying to look enthralled by what Snape was saying, Harry snagged the paper, and read,

"Are you OK? You're acting really weird."

"Weasley and Potter - passing notes in class - ten points."

They both shrank under Hermione's look.

************************

It was, Harry considered, all his fault. He was inexperienced with Epiphanies, but he was fairly sure that hurting Hagrid, losing points, and mooning over an oblivious Seamus was not how one handled an Epiphany.

The trouble was - he wasn't exactly sure what else to do. Anytime he saw Seamus, he was with Dean. It was almost like they came as one. And Harry had no idea how to detach the Seamus-shadow from the Dean-body. He didn't have enough nerve to drag Seamus into another closet, and anyway he…

A class-wide groan brought Harry out of his musings.

Snape smiled coldly. "…only fair, I feel."

Harry glanced quickly at Ron, who was staring open-mouthed at the top of the room.

"What?" he muttered, through almost closed lips. Ron was too flustered to practice his ventriloquism skills.

"He…he can't be _serious _!"

"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, I am indeed serious. Due to the untimely outbreak of festering flu, most of you have missed a great number of my classes. I feel the provision of three extra lessons a week to help your studies is very generous on my part. As does the headmaster. Or would you prefer to wade through the information on your own, perhaps?"

"No sir." Ron slumped in his seat.

"_Three _ extra lessons a week?!"

"These will take place in the evenings. Tuesdays at half past five, Thursdays at six, and Friday's at half past six. You might want to make a note of it, as I will not tolerate tardiness."

Gloom settled like fog over the students. Ron viciously stabbed his paper with his pen, until it complained in a liquidy, ink-clogged voice. Even Hermione looked slightly disgruntled.

Then a hand rose. Snape sighed long-sufferingly. "Finnegan, I thought I had made it clear to you that I do not allow bathroom breaks during my class. You will simply have to suffer."

"No, that's not what I wanted. I have a question."

"Then, pray let me note the date and time of such a momentous occasion," he said acidly.

"'S twenty-five past three," Seamus said. Snape looked sharply at him, but even the back of his head radiated innocence.

"Uh - sir. I was wondering…"

"Out with it, Finnegan."

"Well, do the people who _weren't _ sick have to go? I mean, I was here the entire time, and so were a couple of others."

"Indeed. As if I could forget." Snape looked as if he'd swallowed something bitter. "Very well, anyone who was present for the last few weeks need not attend the extra classes."

Seamus made the mistake of turning to wink at Harry. Harry made the mistake of grinning back at him.

"_However _, I should hate to think of either yourself, or Mr. Potter feeling _bored _. Especially Mr. Potter, who no longer feels the need to occupy his usual seat." Snape smiled malevolently.

"Come up at the end of class, and I shall assign a project for the two of you."

*******************************

Occasionally something happens to make one question the difference between Good and Evil: something that makes one question one's worldview. Harry Potter had had more than his fair share of these experiences.

"Very well. Potter. Finnegan. You have a month to conduct research on the vermilion potion. You shall then compile a scroll dealing with the effects this potion has on warm-blooded mammals, cold-blooded creatures, magical animals, and lastly - how an adequately prepared wizard can negate the effects."

"Ughn!" Seamus exclaimed in horror. It sounded more like four months work, rather than four weeks.

"We can work together on this?" Harry asked hopefully.

"As I am in no mood to correct _two _ woefully bad scrolls, yes, you may."

As they made their way into the dining hall, Seamus complained about the amount of work they would have to do. "We'll be _old _ before we finish _that _. Promise you'll remind me to shave if my memory goes."

Harry reflected that all his prior experiences regarding Good, Evil, and the differences between; had somehow failed to prepare his for…Snape, the inadvertent matchmaker.

**********************************

Harry stared at the blurring text in his lap. He sighed. The tiny writing was giving him a headache.

"You know, _you _ could maybe try helping me with this," he gestured towards the huge pile of books on his bed.

Seamus glanced up from his comic, then made a big show of looking around the room as if figuring out who Harry was talking to. Though, since it was half past five on a Tuesday, and nobody else was there, the ploy fell flat.

Harry offered him a book.

"Are you suggesting that I'm not pulling my weight?" Seamus asked indignantly. He appeared not to see the book hovering inches under his nose.

"You wound me Harry, you really do."

"Then how come I'm the one doing all the research?" Harry asked.

"Because you're the brains of this operation," Seamus explained patiently. He returned to his comic.

"And what are you?" Harry asked exasperatedly. "The lazybones?"

Seamus affected a look of bewildered hurt. "For your information, I am the carrot."

Harry clutched his head. Perhaps he was going mad. Maybe all the effort he had been putting into being casual around Seamus, had somehow affected his mind.

"You're what?"

"The carrot. You're the donkey."

"I thought I was the brains."

"Yeah, but you're also the donkey. You can be a brainy donkey if it makes you feel any better," Seamus offered in the spirit of conciliation.

"……?"

"You know, if you want the donkey to do something, you can beat him with a stick, or you can show him a carrot. I'm your carrot." With that Seamus stretched out on the bed and grinned. Harry swallowed.

"I - I think that's all I can do for tonight. At least, without getting better glasses," he babbled nervously.

Seamus nodded. "Okay. Wanna make out?"

"…Okay…."

****************************

The rest of the four weeks were conducted along similar satisfactory lines. Harry had thought that perhaps they would need to Talk, but there were much more enjoyable activities to be…enjoyed. Also, he wasn't exactly sure what to say. This was a moot point since his tongue was in Seamus' mouth most of the time he was with Seamus.

When they submitted their scroll, Snape refused to correct, "such absurd and infantile work. An untrained ape could draw better conclusions."

"We'll be dead before this is finished," Seamus said gloomily. "We'd have been better off if we'd taken the extra classes. At least they're _finished _ now."

"Mmm," Harry said noncommittally. He felt a little as though Seamus had stuck out a foot and tripped him.

**************************

He knew, logically, that there should have been a Talk at this point. But…well, they still had to work together on that scroll. And Harry saw no point in confessing his feelings only to be told, "I think this happened in one of the Enchanted Silhouettes. But Serena was already promised to Duke Deanston, and the attentions of the peasant Harrison were odious to her."

And it wasn't like things were _too _ bad. After all, even if he wasn't Seamus' ideal, the other boy didn't seem to mind spending time with him, distracting Harry from research, and…and acting like Harry's own carrot. In fact, it seemed like the opposite. Even if it was more difficult to arrange the…other things, given that Snape's extra classes had finished. The idle janitors closet was certainly being used more than it ever had been. Though not, perhaps, in the way intended by the closet installers.

***************************

In a way, it was the closet that caused them to turn the corner. It was small and dark in there, which wasn't a problem - at least not for Seamus and Harry. Which was why Harry was startled when _something _ delivered a solid whack to his left shin.

He tore his mouth from Seamus' - the better to say, "Ow!"

"Huh? Wha'?"

Harry squinted into the darkness, wincing at another vicious blow to his side, accompanied by a…swooshing sound?

"It's the mop! It's attacking!"

"The mop is attacking?!"

"Get down!"

Just then, a particularly violent blow from the mop knocked Harry off-balance. He banged against Seamus, sending them both floorward. Harry landed with an oof on something soft and Seamus-shaped.

"Owww," Seamus exclaimed breathlessly. "Harry, you're squishing me."

Above them, the mop continued it's rampage, bumping off shelves and knocking pine-scented cleaning products off the shelves.

Harry shifted.

"Ow, Harry…ohhhhhhh."

And so, the miracle of Full-Body Contact was discovered.

*******************************

Seamus hadn't exactly been a shrinking violet before, but now, he was all systems go. He even helped with research, so that their "carrot-time" as he called it, was maximised.

At first, Harry had been embarrassed, even as his body shuddered with pleasure Rubbing up against Seamus, rubbing his body parts against Seamus' parts…it reminded Harry of everything he should never have done, and had done anyway because it felt good. Like getting up early on Sundays to fill in the crossword before Uncle Vernon.

Which was another reason he felt vaguely uncomfortable about the whole thing. Aunt Petunia, cranky with embarrassment, had once had a talk with him about Boy-things. This seemed to mean not leaving the toilet seat up. He remembered his Aunt, flushed red, talking about "private parts", and "not inflicting oneself on the rest of the household."

It had seemed sort of embarrassing to have….private parts at all, the way she had talked about it. This - this thing with Seamus - it felt like he was _glorying _ in the fact that he had those parts.

It felt so good he couldn't bring himself to stop.

*************************

After a couple of repetitions, his embarrassment had lessened. Which was, of course, the time Seamus decided to take it up a notch.

The scroll was due in on Monday, so neither he nor Seamus could go into Hogsmeade at the weekend. Instead, they remained in the bedroom, Harry writing feverishly.

"Hard luck," Ron had commiserated. "Bet you'll be glad when this is over. We've hardly seen you the past couple of weeks."

Harry had bent over his work to hide the blush flooding his face.

"I'd stay," Ron said, "Only I'm running out of chocolate frogs - and you _know _ Hermione won't" -

"It's all right," Harry said. "Really. Anyway, I have Seamus for company." His nose was almost buried in the scroll at this point.

"Yeah - what am I? Chopped liver?" Seamus had asked indignantly.

***************************

They'd managed another two feet of scroll before they took a break. "Only another six inches to go," Harry sighed in relief.

"Yes!" Seamus crowed. "Hah! Wanna celebrate?"

"Um, okay," Harry agreed, moving towards him.

"No - I mean, wait. I had an idea."

***************************

Harry had been aghast. "I don't think…"

"C'mon," Seamus wheedled. "It'll be good. Promise."

"I just don't know…"

"Look - listen. Do you trust me? Don't answer that. Okay - do you trust McGonagall?"

"…yes," Harry said cautiously.

"all right. You know how she's always saying things like - 'Seamus - pay attention!' Or 'Seamus - be logical!'?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I decided to take her advice. Logically: rubbing each other off feels good, right? Rubbing each other with clothes in the way is good. Therefore, logically, it would feel even better if we didn't have any clothes on. You following me?"

"I-I guess," Harry tried to calm the butterflies on his stomach.

"And when are we gonna have this chance again? Everybody's in Hogsmeade," Seamus directed a questioning look at Harry, who shrugged in agreement.

"'Kay. So, strip."

The butterflies went wild in Harry's stomach, as if they'd sighted someone with a large net.

Seamus sighed. "Fine. On the count of three. One, two" -

"That's cheating!" Harry exclaimed, as Seamus ripped his jumper off on 'two'.

"Better hurry then - if you don't want me to win," he said, pulling down his pants.

Harry undid buttons and unzipped zips until he had no choice but to stand up straight and…look.

"You ready?" Seamus asked, like they were late for class or something.

"Unngh," he managed.

"Sorry, but our choices for today are limited to 'yes' or 'no'. With a strong lean towards 'yes'."

"What do you call your private parts?" he blurted out in panic. He felt sure that Seamus would have some other word for them. Seamus didn't even understand the meaning of the word private, his mind babbled hysterically.

Seamus stared at him before snickering. "You mean, you don't do this if you haven't been introduced? I can see your point - I'm not that kinda boy either." He looked down at his…and said gravely, "So, Seamus' dick - meet Harry's dick." He gestured across at Harry's - private parts.

Dick. Dick. Seamus' dick. His…dick. It sounded funny, but a lot less prissy that 'private parts'…

Harry was so wrapped up he was stunned when Seamus tackled him onto the bed. Through the zinging shock of body contact, he faintly heard Seamus say, "C'mon, c'mon, can we do it already…we've been introduced and all…"

Harry hardly listened; as Seamus was too busy running his hands up arms, down his back, across his stomach - over every bit of skin he could find. Harry wanted to…well, go with it, like Seamus was able to, but all he felt was awareness of his own nakedness. Then Seamus moved up restlessly, lowered himself until he was covering Harry from head to foot. He kissed Harry, but a new sensation caused Harry to gasp against his mouth. Their…dicks (*dicks, definitely not private parts* Harry thought) brushed against each other for the first time, and Harry couldn't stop himself from arching up, looking for more. More of the strange jolts that zinged through him, only to return to his groin, to make his dick (*getting better at thinking it * he noted absently) throb with pleasure.

He had to spread his legs, thrust against Seamus' thigh, grab onto his shoulders, slide his tongue into Seamus' mouth. Had to, had to. He didn't see what else he could do. Any inhibitions he had had were kissed out of him by Seamus, and all the nagging feelings of half-shame disappeared as he shook with white-hot satisfaction, face buried in Seamus' neck.

"D'you remember how to breathe?" Seamus asked afterwards in a strangled voice.

"Mmm," Harry said, not feeling up to speech.

"Think you could show me how it's done?"