Seamus is a Slutmuffin

Chapter 5(Part B): Seeing Shamrocks
Seamus/Harry-ish.
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Dean was beginning to notice Seamus’ odd behaviour again. Seamus would catch him staring during class and dinner, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He never questioned Seamus but he didn’t need to. The whispers of Seamus’ harlot ways were becoming rampant. He’d fucked a Slytherin-Theodore Nott-he’d wanked a Hufflepuff-Justin Finch-Fletchley -he’d been caught red-handed in a make out session with Ron Weasley, he’d made brazen moves on a Ravenclaw-Michael Corner-he was also rumoured to have fooled around with Terry Boot-Ravenclaw-Lee Jordan-Gryffindor-and Zacharias Smith-Hufflepuff. The sad fact was that most of the rumours were true.

Seamus sighed heavily, stretched, listened to the contented, sleepy noises of the boys on either side of him. It was November 24th, day of the first Triwizard challenge. He would have to spend time with Dean again today, there was no avoiding it. Seamus grimaced. They were still best friends, they would always be beast friends, but he hated the look of hurt and betrayal that decorated Dean’s face every time they were together. The fact was the tall black boy didn’t believe most of the rumours. After the Theodore Nott incident, Seamus had mentioned that maybe his tastes ran more masculine and Dean had taken the information with a grain of salt and they never brought it up, but he hadn’t told Dean about how much he had truly done. Dean couldn’t understand why Seamus ignored the rumours instead of dispelling them.

Next to him, Fred Weasley let out a stifled little yawn and the arm that had been thrown over Seamus uncovered stomach moved. On his other side, George was sitting up and stretching. He caught sight of Seamus and he grinned.

“Oi there, ickle Seamus.” He said with a shameless grin. He ran a hand through his sleep tousled hair and yawned. “Lazy arse up yet?” An angry little groan from Fred answered George’s question. Seamus grinned, slipping past George, shivering as his bare feet met cold stone.

“We should get moving.” Seamus said, locating his discarded boxers, pants and shirt. He spun in a slow circle, eyes scanning the room hastily. “Do either of you know where my damn socks are?” George, who was now moving around the room as well, collecting his own clothing, tossed one left sock at Seamus. “The other?” George shrugged. On the bed, Fred grunted. Seamus rolled his eyes. “Okay then, whatever, I’m going to breakfast, I’ll see you later.” He smiled at the twins who were now both in the bed, George shaking his brother to rouse him. The boy who was awake nodded.

“See ya at the challenge, Shea.” He said.

After a quick pit stop at his own dorm for a change of clothes and his robes, Seamus headed down to the Great Hall where breakfast was already in full swing. There was a large group crowded about the Hufflepuff table and through the crowd Seamus caught sight of Cedric’s anxious face. He couldn’t contain the snort that bubbled up through his being. Cedric was such a pretty boy, all face, no substance. He had girls melting all over him and yet he was rumoured as being completely celibate. He didn’t take girlfriends, he was cordial to everyone but he always politely declined suitors, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he was gay. Seamus snorted again as he sat next to Dean at the Gryffindor table.

Dean looked at him carefully. “So, last night…” ‘I spent the night having an oddly amazing threesome with the Weasley twins’ Seamus mentally answered. Openly he simply shrugged.

“I was doing late studying.” Seamus said lamely. Dean frowned and Seamus grimaced. This was not the time for this, it was morning and he was fucking tired and he would not have this conversation with Dean, not now. When Dean opened his mouth to speak, Seamus held up a hand. “Not right now, Dean. I’m just too tired.” The boy’s mouth shut again and he nodded curtly.

“Okay then.” His brown eyes flickered to the plate loaded with breakfast in front of him and he began shovelling it into his mouth. Seamus didn’t watch, his eyes were drifting back to pretty boy Cedric who’s supporters were still surrounding him, flashes of ‘Potter Stinks’ could be seen in the crowd. Cedric still looked nervous, a tinge green, it contrasted with his hair.

That was so Hufflepuff, so boyishly adorable, so slightly off, Seamus found himself smiling. For an instant winter grey eyes drifted up from his fans and breakfast to land heavily upon Seamus’ similar grey gaze. Seamus blushed and looked away quickly.

“So who’ll you be rooting for?” Dean asked conversationally. It was an assumption that all Hogwarts students were for Cedric-why would they root for the cheater who put his own name in the cup?-but it was still a topic. Seamus shrugged.

“It feels sort of wrong, not rooting for Harry.” His eyes flickered back to Cedric. Grey met grey, he swallowed heavily. “But it feels wrong not rooting for Cedric too.” He scoffed. “Maybe I should just go for Krum, wouldn’t that just make everything dandy.” Dean laughed.

“You Irish and your grudges. You won the Cup, remember, no more need to hate the Bulgarians.” He said back, running a hand through his curly hair. Seamus rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

“There’s always a reason to hate the Bulgarians.” He stated matter-of-factly. He scanned the Great Hall looking for the slouched figure of Viktor Krum. He wasn’t hard to spot, the thick boy stood out almost more on land then he did in the air, if not for the completely opposite reason. Krum’s gaze was shifted downward, staring complacently at his nearly untouched breakfast. Seamus looked back to Dean. “How about you? Who will you root for?”

Dean chewed his lips thoughtfully for a moment, creating a very pleasant, if not unwanted, sensation to hum through Seamus’ core. He was not fucking attracted to Dean Thomas. “I guess Harry. He’s been our friend for years and-despite what Ron’s been saying-I believe him. I mean, he didn’t really seem that interested in the Triwizard Tournament when everyone else was raving about it. Maybe someone else did put his name in the goblet.” In unison, the two boys glanced up the table to where Harry sat, basically alone, unhappy, poking at an egg he obviously had no intention of eating. “Wonder what the challenge’ll be.”

Not three hours later Dean’s question was answered and all four Triwizard competitors had overcome their challenges. By the end, Seamus had found himself rooting for Harry. He’d attended the after party, rejoicing along with everyone else the victory of the Gryffindor, boy-who-lived. And Harry finally looked happy again. It made the small part of Seamus--the part he was slowly learning to ignore as it was getting him into trouble more and more often nowadays--soar. He wanted to see what else would make the Boy-Who-Lived grin like that. And then the party was over and Ron--who had made up with Harry, Seamus noticed with a frown--Harry, Seamus, Neville and Dean all headed to the room for bed. It was two-something in the morning.

Seamus lay still, concentrating on relaxing, concentrating on sleeping. He needed the rest, he knew he did and yet it eluded him. The day had been too exciting; his mind whirled as he relived seeing each Triwizard competitor take on their dragon. He had to admit, even Krum’s performance was impressive, not that he’d ever say anything to Dean about it. And Harry…

Sleep was lost upon the Irish boy as he turned over in his bed, switching from his side to his back in one smooth motion. Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, with the messy black hair that could never be tamed and the quirky glasses that added a layer to his charm and the beautiful green eyes that sort of reminded Seamus of shamrocks. Harry Potter, famous for a scar that wasn’t even his own making. How Seamus wanted to kiss that scar, trace it with his lips before following it to Harry’s nose to his lips…

Seamus shivered. Images of kissing Harry, touching Harry, running his hands along the dark haired boy’s sides and tracing his stomach muscles, trekking across that nicely formed plane to the dark thatch of hair right at the junction of the Boy-Who-Lived’s thighs. Seamus’ cock gave a reflexive twitch and the boy sighed. Sleep would have to be put on hold until he dealt with his little developing problem. Hands slipped beneath his flimsy sleep pants shamelessly. He was alone--well, relatively, the curtains around his four-poster were drawn--and he was sure he could be quiet. After all it was just a quick wank to the tune of Harry Potter. He knew for a fact that Ron did it all the time and oh, what the red head would do if he found out that Seamus had picked up the habit.

The Irishman grinned, hands wrapping around his awakening cock and giving the slightest of tugs. It was harmless really, he wasn’t interested interested in Potter and even if he was, Harry was straight. He’d been caught making puppy eyes at one to many a girl to be anything but. Seamus grinned again, pace picking up, breathing hitching slightly. He bit his lip to block any potential noise.

It was Harry’s hands down his pants, tugging so perfectly on his erection, Harry’s mouth tugging on his lower lip. Harry’s other hand ghosted up Seamus’ rocking form, clipped a nipple, perfect pressure, perfect timing. Seamus couldn’t catch the small moan, it slipped out of his mouth only to be muffled by the curtains. He didn’t stop however, his fantasy wouldn’t allow him to. The hand that had clipped his nipple was back, torturing him, rolling the pebbling bead softly. His fantasy Harry chuckled. Lips were back on his own, kissing him like a dying man would water. Harry tasted warm and good, if not slightly coppery. The tiniest bit of blood trickled down Seamus’ lip from where he’d bit too hard, he didn’t notice however, his mind was too absorbed in Harry.

Harry’s hand had left his cock, gone to join its brother, tugging loosely on Seamus’ other nipple before it slid up higher. Harry’s mouth moved; his fingers took its place. Seamus obeyed the silent command, he sucked them. They moved back down then, sweeping along his form, leaving a wet trail. Past his cock they ghosted, ending lower, Seamus opened his legs like a good little whore. They pressed in gently because Seamus knew that Harry would be a gentle lover, and as they were another kiss was pressed to his lips. Harry’s other hand returned to Seamus’ cock which was throbbing with neglect. He began to pump, fingers first finding a proper rhythm with them before he began to move the hand on Seamus’ manhood. Harry was slow, agonizingly slow, but it was sweet torture. Another moan escaped Seamus, he bit down harder on his painfully abused lips. He rocked his body against the lithe form of his dark-haired, phantom lover, fingers never stopping, hands speeding up. Fantasy Harry laughed again. Playful, joy-filled green eyes, shamrocks, glinted once in the pale moonlight and Seamus shuddered out his release, head snapping back, body stiffing, toes spreading as orgasm rushed through him. Somehow he managed to choke the strangled cry of ‘Harry!’, only a muffled grunt was released.

With a frown, Seamus pulled his hands out of his pants and surveyed the damage. He’d managed not to spoil the sheets--that was something--but the front of his pyjamas was a sticky mess. He tugged them off beneath the sheets and wiped his hand off on them before tossing them next to the bed with a sigh. For a brief instant he considered fishing another pair out of his trunk but he decided against it. Moving would not only wake the others but it would pull him out of the secure, sleepy niche that fantasy Harry had sent him into. Seamus smiled, well-despite the wardrobe trouble it caused-at least phantom Harry was more effective then counting Hungarian Horntails. And with another contented smile, Seamus fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
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~Slutmuffin

Next one tomorrow, probably.