Hello, My Name is Seamus and I'm a Slut-aholic . . .
Part 3/6 By Kelly M.
hermindkillsyahoo.ca
Draco was growing increasingly impatient. He had given up a good ten minutes of his lunch already with the half-snapped Gryffindor and the best the head-banging git could give him was an incoherent babble as to why there were sketches of himself all over his notes. "Spill it in slow, understandable English or I'll call Goyle back, Finnigan." He enjoyed watching the smaller boy squirm, his face growing increasingly more red as their conversation progressed. Draco couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.
"Dean called me a slut. That made me mad. So I wanted to get back at him by being really un-flirty but sexy and see how he liked it." He sounded like a child. Draco smirked at this, suddenly in no rush to get to the dining hall. Most of the Gryffindors /were/ children when it came to things like this. They wanted revenge, but lacked the basic skills to get it. And he really /did/ enjoy a good relationship problem.
"One: that is the lamest plot for revenge I have ever heard. I almost pity you. Almost. Two: I still can't possibly fathom how I am involved in this."
"Well, you know . . ." Finnigan flushed a deeper red and turned his attention to his shoes. It was definitely embarrassment.
"No, I do not /know./ Please enlighten me on the way the brain of a demented Gryffindor works." He was not a mind reader, especially when it came to the minds of neurotic little crackpots who walked around muttering to themselves, hitting their heads on bathroom walls, and stalking him.
"You're sexy, alright! I just thought if I could be a little more like you and a little less like me Dean wouldn't think of me so . . . so badly." Malfoy had to hide his grin. The Gryffindor thought he was sexy. The fact that he was angry only made it better.
"Oh, you want to be like me? Well, that's perfectly understandable." He ruffled Seamus' hair roughly, a plan forming in his head. "Just not easily done. Better men than you have tried and failed," he mused. He was drawn. On one hand, he was helping the Finnigan boy for nothing in return, which was deplorable for any Malfoy. On the other hand, he was helping him get revenge on someone, which was a perfectly acceptable act. He supposed just this once he would allow it. He was, after all, quite bored. "But then again, I like a challenge." He handed the books back to Finnigan, more pleased with himself than he had been in ages.
Finnigan stared at him, thoroughly bewildered. He wasn't bad looking for a Gryffindor, a little on the scrawny side, but not bad at all. Draco allowed himself another smirk. "Meet me tonight, outside the library, seven o'clock."
---------------
Well/Whump/ it was official. /Whump/ Seamus had made a deal with the devil. /Whump/ He wasn't exactly sure how bashing his head repeatedly into the bathroom wall was going to solve this problem, but there had to be something. Heck, maybe he would pass out and miss the meeting altogether.
"You know, if you keep doing that, people are going to think you've snapped."
Seamus jumped, he hadn't even heard the bathroom door open. And of course, because the universe had a not-so-secret vendetta against him, there stood Malfoy, in all his smirking glory. Luck of the Irish, his arse. "If they find out I'm making plans to be more like you they're going to think that anyway."
"Do you really think I'm going to help you with an attitude like that," he drawled. The blonde boy crossed his arms and leaned calmly against the back of the door, his smile unnerving. Seamus had a sinking feeling that Malfoy wasn't really going to help him at all. Vivid images of being hogtied and left outside on the lawn with 'I'm a slut' painted across his bare chest in nothing but his skivvies flashed through Seamus' head. Alright, perhaps that was a wee bit dramatic, but still, he was dealing with Draco Malfoy, which was about as safe as dealing with a box of angry skrewts. No matter how hard you tried, you were bound to get burned.
The two stood at a sort of stalemate in the boys bathroom outside of the library, Seamus still less than an arms length from the east wall, Malfoy bracing himself against the door. Seamus wasn't really sure how long they stood there. Too long for his comfort, that was for sure. The clock striking seven caused Malfoy's smile and the pit in Seamus' stomach to grow. He clicked the lock. "Uh, Draco?"
Seamus scrambled in his robes to find his wand as Malfoy produced his hands from behind his back, a long wooden object on his left hand, a tube of something slimy and purple in his right. It had been a trick. Malfoy was going to curse him. How had he been so stupid? He turned quickly, facing Draco, his wand high and body tense. Malfoy actually had the nerve to laugh.
Wait. What?
Why Draco laughing in the middle of a duel? And not that snide, superior chuckle either. It was full on almost-crying stomach-holding laughter. His hand over his mouth to suppress the sound from echoing off the high stone ceiling, Malfoy doubled over with another glance at Seamus, who was in turn both bewildered and angry. Seamus puffed up his chest and tried to demand assertively, "Drop the wand, Malfoy."
Another laugh. "You see, I'd love to Finnigan /snort/ but all I have is this brush. Oh, and some gel." He set them down on the edge of a sink, the laugher subsiding into an spectacularly amused smirk. Draco boosted himself onto the neighbouring sink, his eyes still on Seamus who remained dumbly in his battle position.
Seamus dropped his arm limply to his side, heat creeping into his ears. He was never going to live this down. Ever. "I'm s. . ."
"Such a paranoid psychopath? Yes, I can see that. Which, I must say, is more tolerable than someone who grovels. So don't even think about apologizing or I'm afraid I can't do anything past this point to help you."
"Erm, what?"
Malfoy sighed dramatically and crossed his arms over his chest, still balanced precariously on the edge of the sink. He gave Seamus an annoyed stare. "From now on, no apologizing. You were about to say you were sorry. That word is so horribly overused. People are always saying things like 'I'm sorry, do you have the time,' 'I'm sorry, but your chair is on my cloak,' 'I'm sorry I tried to impale you with my wand when you were only attempting to groom me.' Well, maybe not /always/ saying that last one, but you get the idea. It's tired. You are Seamus Finnigan and you need to apologize to no one."
"I guess, yeah," Seamus mumbled in agreement. He still wasn't entirely sure how much faith he should put in Malfoy, though he did feel significantly more comfortable knowing he was brandishing styling products instead of tools of destruction.
"You guess, yeah?" He cocked an eyebrow, "Boy, are you a piece of work."
"Like you're one to talk. You're an egocentric narcissist."
"An egocentric narcissist who you want to be more like, if I remember our conversation from earlier today correctly. Look, I couldn't be Malfoy if I didn't love being Malfoy and you can't be Finnigan without loving being Finnigan." He gave a withered sigh, as if explaining a concept as basic as don't hold your wand backwards, "Repeat after me: I am Seamus Finnigan."
"I . . . I am Seamus Finnigan."
"I am Seamus Finnigan and I don't need to apologize."
"I am Seamus Finnigan and I don't need to apologize."
"Louder! I am Seamus Finnigan and I am hot."
"I am Seamus Finnigan and I am . . . hot?"
"More conviction Finnigan! I am Seamus Finnigan and I am hot!"
"I am Seamus Finnigan and I am hot!"
"Good. Again!"
"I am Seamus Finnigan and I am hot!"
"One more, really scream it. I am Seamus Finnigan and I am not a slut."
"I'm Seamus Finnigan and I'M ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY NOT A SLUT!"
