Hello, My Name is Seamus and I'm a Slut-aholic . . . (The stunning : cough : conclusion heh)

Part 6/6 By Kelly M.
hermindkillsyahoo.ca

Dean was sitting cross-legged on his bed when Seamus returned from doing the brutal Potion's essay in the common room. He noticed with an amused smirk that Nev, Ron, and Harry were nowhere in sight. Dean chirped a happy "Good morning," and gave him a huge grin, making Seamus blush in spite of himself. This was perfect. Dean was perfect. This was everything he had ever wanted. Or thought he had wanted six days ago. He still couldn't shake the uneasiness of his conversation with Malfoy earlier. That didn't matter now though. Now he had Dean smiling at him and sitting on his bed in an empty room and life was perfect.

"Mornin' Dean." It was a dumb, stupid, obvious thing to say, but he didn't really care about being cool and aloof anymore. He had Dean, he'd proven to him he could be sexy without being flirty. He even had the boy's respect and love and tongue . . . the /hell/

Seamus snapped out of his thoughts with the intent tongue sliding over his lips and attempting to push them open. He stared widely, disbelievingly into Dean's eyes, first relenting instinctively to the soft pressure, then pulling sharply away. "What are you doing?"

Dean almost moaned, his lips dangerously close again to Seamus.' "It's been almost a week, Fin." His voice was choked and deep, "You've proven your little point. I want the old Seamus back."

He felt his breath quicken, his bottom lip brushing Dean's. That contact was too much for either boy to bear. Between quick, ardent kisses, he managed to get out the words, "Really? You like the old me?"

Dean had rolled him back onto the bed and was heavy on his chest, his hands roaming under Seamus shirt. "Of course I like the old you. Hell, I was beginning to be afraid I'd never get to do this again." Seamus tried to suppress the groan that threatened to part his lips as Dean's left hand traveled from his chest to beneath his boxers, stroking him roughly. "That's my boy," he encouraged as Seamus' hips rose to meet him, "I knew you couldn't change what you are."

Something in Seamus brain stopped abruptly, switching his thoughts from the growing pressure from Dean's hand to what he just said. "What I am? " He suddenly felt sick. "And what's that, Dean Thomas?"

"Well, you know . . . "

Seamus pulled away violently and ended up on the floor, looking up into Deans' disbelieving stare. He hardened his face. "No, I guess I don't Dean." Seamus stood angrily, trying to keep himself from crying or hitting Dean square in the jaw or both. "Maybe your /journal/ can shed some light on the situation!" Seamus grabbed it from Dean's night stand and waved the leather bound book wildly over his head. Feeling his chest tighten, he flipped to the infamous entry and began to read aloud, "'Seamus kissed me for the first time tonight. I dunno what he meant by it though. He could just be joking, he does things like that. You can never tell if he's being serious. He's quite a bit of a slut really.'"

Dean stuttered, his eyes frantic, "But Fin, I . . . I didn't mean . . . I just . . ."

"Of course you meant it. You just said it! What I am? WHAT I AM! You have no idea what I am Dean Thomas. You never did and you never will."

"Fin . . . Seamus. I'm sorry, please don't . . ."

But Seamus was already out the door, taking the steps to the common room two at a time. Ron's 'knowing' grin to Seamus fell instantly from his lips. "What happened?" Seamus' eyes stung.

He was /not/ going to give Dean the satisfaction of hearing that he cried. And there was no way he could even speak to Ron without bursting into tears. He stormed past the red haired boy and out of common room painting, hitting the stairs at a run. He needed some time by himself.

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This was the dumbest thing Draco had possibly ever done. He almost didn't believe it. He, the great Draco Malfoy, most respected and feared Slytherin in their year, was climbing the stairs to the /Gryffindor/ dormitories to /apologize/ to a boy he /liked./ There were so many things wrong with that concept he shuddered at the thought. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Soon enough they'd be telling him the Sorting Hat had made some terrible mistake and he was supposed to be a Hufflepuff.

This was dumb. Dumb, dumb, idiotically and stupidly dumb. Draco Malfoy did not need to apologize. He was just going to turn around and pretend he had never started this dumb journey up these dumb curving stairs to see that dumb Finnigan. He was thankful no one had seen him, Draco could at least save face. He had just half-turned to go back down when a blue blur slammed into him, coming around the bend in the staircase at a full run. Draco fought valiantly to keep his balance, but in the end he lost to the 9.8 meters per second squared down constant miserably. He hit down hard on the stone stairs, the blue blur settling in a tangle on the landing three steps below.

"Idiot! Why don't you try to open your eyes next time you decide to run haphazardly around staircases?" Draco bristled with anger, this was neither the time nor the place for someone ignorant and stupid to get on his nerves. "Apologize before I castrate you, you miserable excuse for a wizard! Who the hell do you think you are?"

The head turned slightly and Draco saw that it was Finnigan. And Finnigan was crying. "Sorry," he mumbled miserably, not meeting Draco's eyes.

The anger died in his throat as Draco watched the tears streak down Finnigan's face. He looked so utterly unhappy. "No you're not." Draco stood briskly and pulled Finnigan up from the stairwell, giving him a small smirk which he returned a bit quizzically. "You are Seamus Finnigan and you don't need to apologize." He looked him in the eyes, water still brimming at the outside edges.

Finnigan broke his gaze and turned his attention to the floor, "I'm not really in the mood to talk Malfoy."

"Yeah? Well tough, I am."

"You certainly weren't this morning," Finnigan countered acidly pulling out of his grasp.

Madly in love with him and his skivvies or not, nobody talked to Draco Malfoy that way. It took every ounce of his strength not to throttle him right there in the stairwell. "Maybe I just don't like conversations about the finer points of that twit, Thomas."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me talking about /Dean/ anymore." Finnigan said his name with an angry hiss.

"Why? What happened?"

"He called me a slut again." Fresh tears spilled down the freckled cheeks, "We were together and I thought everything was great and I wanted him and everything so badly, then all of a sudden he starts to talk but he couldn't say 'I love you' or 'I like you' or anything that might make me feel good like that. Just 'I knew you couldn't change what you are.'" Draco took back his thought from this morning at breakfast, he wasn't glad he was there when Finnigan found out that Thomas wasn't a great guy. He felt horrible.

Draco could not bear to watch anyone cry. Such a raw outpouring of any emotion made him extremely squeamish, especially sadness. In the Malfoy household you were allowed one of three feelings: anger, contempt, or superiority. Anything else was a luxury they could not afford as a prominent wizarding family. He was at a loss. "Um . . . its okay? Don't worry. Uh . . . cheer up."

All of a sudden Finnigan had pulled him into a tight hug and Draco did not resist, feeling the smaller boy shudder as he sobbed. "I just can't believe him. I tried so hard and he was so . . ."

"Did he hurt you? That bastard." Draco pulled away enough from the embrace to look Finnigan square in the face, feeling his awkward sympathy shift into something much more tangible and useful of the big Malfoy three – anger. He was going to murder Dean Thomas for hurting Finnigan.

"No, he didn't," Finnigan's face shifted thoughtfully, "not really at all. I don't think I love him anymore."

"Oh..." Before Draco could finish his poorly articulated sentence, Finnigan was kissing him softly and intently. Draco hesitated briefly, then consented, succumbing to lips and visions of plaid boxers. He wasn't sure how long the kiss lasted, but as they broke apart, he found Seamus smirking wildly at him.

"Uh-oh," he grinned, "does this mean I'm a slut again"

Draco smiled back in spite of himself. "Of course not. You are Seamus Finnigan and you are absolutely positively not a slut."

A/N: Woot, thanks so much for reading, especially ATadObsessive46 and Saziikins, who make up a large chunk of my reviews ) A gold star also to anyone who noticed the parallel structure between the end of chapter 3 and the end of this chapter. Thanks again for your patience with my first foray into the Harry Potter fanfic world, perhaps I shall continue after all heh. Cheers,

Kelly