Author's Note: Sorry, it's taken me forever to update. I keep meaning to, but other things keep happening. Anyway, this is, I think, my favourite chapter in the whole thing, so enjoy it.
Disclaimer: Obviously, none of it's mine (at least, nothing you recognise), else I'd be living in a castle in Britain and be richer than the queen. And I'm not. And I live in Australia in a little house, so whatever.
The Secret Diary of Seamus Finnigan
I reckon Krum is stalking me. Every time I turn around, there he is, just lurking behind a door, or I see his funny hooked nose poking round a corner, and I laugh. Dean asked, "What's so funny, Shay?"
So I told him. "I think Krum is stalking me coz wherever I look there he is, trying to keep out of sight, only his nose gives him away, and he looks so funny…" I started cackling insanely. Dean looked at me pityingly, his expression clearly saying, now let's just take you to the nearest asylum.
"What, so a world famous Quidditch star is stalking you, yeah? Like someone actually cares about you? As if! – na, sorry, that was mean." He paused. "Of course Krum cares about you. He loves you! And you love his nose." Dean launched into a rant about how Krum and me would be absolutely perfect together.
I backed away slowly, leaving him ranting to thin air. Just as I left the room, I saw Lavender coming in. That was good, she would see Dean ranting to thin air. That's what madmen do! She'll think Dean is insane. Only I don't want her thinking Dean's crazy. That's my role. I'm the resident insane person around here. Mwahahahaha…
But whatever. Moving along…
So, I was backing away, and, as I was walking backwards, I didn't realise I was approaching the portrait hole. I stumbled, ran into it and tripped. So here was I, making an utter fool of myself and falling out a portrait hole. I mean, seriously, how do you fall out a portrait hole? It's like falling up the stairs, though I must admit I am quite capable of that.
Anyway, I fell out the portrait hole and – guess what? – there was my famous stalker, Viktor Krum. So Krum caught me in his arms and looked down at me with these deep dark brown eyes – almost black – and I was like, he's so tall, because I'm kinda short and he's pretty tall, so he seemed really tall. And I looked up at Krum and realised he had that same love-struck expression I had seen on the day he arrived.
Oh dear, I thought. I could tell I was going pink, or at least, I could until I progressed past pink, and then I had no idea what colour I'd turned. But I probably was about the same colour as Ron's infamous dress robes.
I began to stutter something, which was incomprehensible even to my ear, but Krum seemed to take it along the lines of, "I love you, dear Vicky", because he pulled me closer to him and leaned down to kiss me.
"I…um...it's," I stammered, then, "No, don't!" as his lips were suddenly against mine. All of a sudden then, I had a kind of out-of-body experience and I realised, in a detached sort of way, how laughable my situation was.
Almost without thinking, I pushed Krum away and dived through the still-open portrait-hole, stifling laughter. I looked up from my position sprawled across the floor to see Dean closing his sketchbook with a satisfied, smug, almost triumphant look on his face, like he'd just drawn something the whole school was going to know about by the end of tomorrow.
Oh God, how did I get myself into this?
The Secret Diary of Viktor Krum
I had him there, for a moment, in my arms. He was looking into my eyes and for once, those golden eyes – well, they're not quite golden, they're sort of gold and green, well, hazel, but they're too pretty to be just plain hazel. Anyway, his eyes looked serious for the first time; I could almost imagine he loved me. He wasn't laughing at me. I was holding him in my arms, and he didn't mind.
He said something, but did it really matter what? I couldn't hear him; I was to busy marvelling at him. Up close, he is still flawless, still everything I have ever dreamed of. Even the freckles on his nose are too beautiful to belong in this world…and that messy blonde hair, like a golden halo. But his eyes are – oh, I don't know – like jewels in his bright face. But I've never seen or heard of any jewel that colour. There can't be anyone the world who isn't wishing those eyes would look upon them with love.
As you see, I had no choice but to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him deeply, passionately. I leaned forward, and our lips touched, then suddenly his eyes were laughing, and he pushed me away and threw himself back through the entrance into his common room.
I thought then that he loved me, but I was wrong. Did he just look at me like that so I would think he loved me – so he could lead me on, then reject me at the last moment? My angel wouldn't do that. My perfect little angel… He couldn't do that; he's too…
But how much do I actually know about him? His name is Seamus, and he is the very definition of the word beautiful. And he's Irish, I think. That's all. Maybe under that captivating exterior, he has no personality to speak of. No, I couldn't believe that of my Seamus.
Oh, stop that! He's not yours, Vik. He's not, and he probably never will be. Stop thinking about him. Move on. Find someone else, someone within reach; above all, find someone female.
Author's note: Just thought I'd remind you, as I love reviews so much - please read AND review, else I'll hunt you down and MAKE you review, mwahahahaha.
