THIS CHAPTER BEGINS WITH SOME FAIRLY GRAPHIC STUFF—IT'S NOT PORN, BUT IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU CAN'T HANDLE SOME BOY-ON-BOY ACTION, PLEASE SCROLL DOWN TO THE "-o-" SIGN, AND START READING THERE. (IT WOULD PROBABLY BE BEST IF YOU'D READ THE FIRST SEVEN PARAGRAPHS AS WELL, AS THEY DON'T CONTAIN ANYTHING MORE THAN EXTREMELY VAGUE INNUENDO, AND INTRODUCE YOU TO WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN.) IF YOU DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH GRAPHIC STUFF, AND WOULD LIKE TO READ THE FULL, NC-17 (MA) RATED VERSION OF THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE GO TO THIS URL: www(DOT)nfiction(DOT)com(SLASH)user(DOT)php?userid3306, SCROLL DOWN TO "HARRY POTTER AND THE SENNEN ITEMS, AND SELECT CHAPTER TWELVE (IT'S LIKE USING FF.N). THANK YOU!

(Chapter title taken from 3 Doors Down's CD "Seventeen Days")

Harry Potter and the Sennen Items
Chapter Twelve: It's Not Me
.nachzes black-rider

Seto changed quickly, before the other members of the team could walk in and start to congratulate him, attempt to engage him in friendly conversation…or see his scars. He didn't bother with his uniform, instead pulling on a black turtleneck and dress pants—it was Sunday, there was no school, and he'd be damned if he was going to wear that stupid dress any more than was required.

Slipping furtively from the change room, so as to avoid any unwanted fawning fans, Seto walked briskly toward the castle, immersed in troublesome thoughts.

"Come to my office after the Quidditch match today, Seto. We'll have our own private party."

"Isn't it a little early to be counting on a party, Weasley How do you know we'll win? You've probably jinxed us."

"Either way, come after the game. If you lose we'll have to drown our sorrows in Butterbeer and plot the 'accidental' death of Draco Malfoy. …But I doubt you'll lose."

Seto felt his lips twitch slightly and raised his hand to knock on the door to Bill's office, but before he could, it flew open, revealing a grinning Bill.

"Come in," the redhead purred, and Seto shot him a brief glare before he remembered to turn it into a hesitant smile, and stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

The moment he turned around, Bill was all over him, lips pressing against the pale column of his neck and hands up his shirt, caressing his chest. Seto moaned appreciatively, tilting his head back to allow the other better access to his neck, and twined his fingers tentatively into the shorter hairs at the nape of Bill's neck. "Yes," he hissed, pressing into the other's skilful hands at they pinched and pulled at his nipples. "More…!" He felt Bill grin against his neck and slide his hands down to his waist, tongue flicking out to lick a trail up to his ear. Breath held in anticipation, Seto released the pent-up air in a long, low moan as Bill's teeth closed around the lode, nipping softly at it.

"Do you know how sexy you were today?" Bill breathed, warm air wafting of the shell of Seto's ear, and the brunet moaned again, his hands tightening in the other's hair. "You really should wear blue more often," Bill continued conversationally, raising his hands up Seto's chest and taking his shirt with them. "Because all I could think about while I watched you up there, flying, was how I wanted to make you scream my name while you writhed in ecstasy beneath me."

Seto moaned again, louder, feeling the blood rush to his groin at the other's lust-coated words, and his hips moved instinctively, grinding against the other's. He felt, somehow, as though this was all moving too fast, but Bill wanted it, and this was how it always happened in the books and the movies, and with lust fogging his brain, he didn't know how to stop it. Or if he even wanted to. He could feel Bill's desire pressing against his hip, and he flushed, pale cheeks turning crimson as Bill rubbed against him. "Bill…" he panted, voice breaking when the other nipped sharply at his neck, "I…."

"Mm?" Bill murmured against the brunet's neck, "What?"

"…Don't stop," Seto said, his nerve failing him. Bill chuckled, and Seto shivered, loving the sound, even as he hated it.

"Don't worry," Bill purred, hands rubbing circles over Seto's bared chest. "I have no intention of stopping…unless you want me to." Sincere emerald eyes locked onto Seto's, and the brunet found himself faltering, tongue-tied and fumbling for words.

"I…ye—no," he said, looking away and hoping that Bill would think it was girlish modesty that made him glance down, not shame; not fear that if he said "yes"…if he took the way out that Bill offered him…then Bill would decide that he wasn't worth it after all. Apparently Bill either thought nothing of it, or was of the first impression, because he leaned in towards Seto, and in the split second before their lips met, Seto forgot to feel fear. And then, after that, he was lost, because Bill's tongue was in his moth, plundering and caressing everywhere it could reach, and Seto felt his heart thrill as Bill's tongue touched his own. He tightened his grip on the hair at the nape of Bill's neck, pulling him closer, and pressed his tongue against the other's, immediately affording him dominance. He felt the other moan and rub against him, and he moaned back. Breathless, he panted hard, eyes unfocussed, when Bill's lips left his; he barely registered it as Bill stripped the remaining clothes from his body and steered him toward the bed.

-o-

After the sex, Seto lay curled around himself, awake and trying not to think as Bill slept peacefully beside him, one of the redhead's arms wrapped around Seto's shoulders, breath wafting over the back of the younger's neck. Seto shivered, and winced as he tried to pull his legs tighter up to his chest. Wincing because it had hurt. It still hurt; he hurt. And he couldn't fathom why something that was supposed to make him feel so complete…had left him so devastatingly empty.

He felt so cold inside….

"Bill?" Harry asked, knocking. "Are you there?" He gave the office door another harsh rap, waited a few seconds…and sighed, turning around and preparing to leave. It had been over a week since the Quidditch match, and aside from in class and at dinner, Harry had been unable to catch a glimpse of the Bill. Guess the DA will just have to wait, Harry thought. Bet, before he could leave, the door opened, revealing a weary-looking Bill Weasley.

"Harry?" the redhead said, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?" He shook his head as Harry opened his mouth to answer. "Never mind," Bill said, turning and leaving the door open, "come in. I've just put the kettle on—you don't mind green tea, do you? It was all I had…." He trailed off, pausing with one hand in a cupboard, a strange, almost pained, look on his face.

"That's fine," Harry said, awkwardly stepping around several stacks of parchment and piles of books on his way in. He hadn't known Bill was so studious; but, then again, he had been Head Boy, and he was teaching now. "I keep wondering what Asian food tastes like. Mokuba's descriptions just aren't enough."

Bill blinked, smiled crookedly, and set down the mugs he'd gotten. "Sorry I'm not being a better host," he said.

"It's fine," Harry said. "I just wanted to ask when the best day for DA meetings would be—Luna told me you were interested in hosting them," he added hastily when the information was received with a confused expression on Bill's part.

"Of course," Bill said, a little too slowly; he jumped as the kettle over the fire began whistling stridently, and got up to make tea. Only after he'd filled both mugs and handed Harry his did he answer.

"I think Wednesdays would be best," he said finally, moving a set of dusty-looking books onto the floor to make room for two on an equally-dusty and threadbare chesterfield and taking a seat. "I don't have a class in the last block, so I'd have time to prepare; and I have meetings on Tuesdays and Saturdays, and tutoring sessions Sundays."

"So…Wednesday at, say, seven o'clock?" Harry asked. "Ending at nine?"

"That sounds okay," Bill said, staring down into his tea. He sighed suddenly, and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. "Do you need anything else, Harry?" he asked, glancing up.

"I don't think so," Harry said. Bill nodded, and Harry awkwardly turned to leave, twisting back around at the sound of Bill's voice as he neared the door.

"Harry?" Bill said.

"Yeah?"

"…Start with shield charms." The redhead's voice was grim.

"Sure," Harry said, nearly tripping over a stack of parchment on the way out.

"Sure."

As soon as Harry left, Bill set his mug down on a pile of dusty volumes in front of him and sighed, leaning back and shading his eyes with a hand cupped over them. He didn't show up to class again today. Then again, he what else is new? He sighed and rubbed his temples, feeling exhausted. Stupid, stupid, he thought. Why the hell did you sleep with him, Bill! He'd thought Seto had liked it—thought he'd wanted it!—he'd certainly responded in kind. Just thinking about the night after the Quidditch match made him flush and shift uncomfortably. Apparently, however, Seto had not liked it, and most likely not wanted it. He'd avoided seeing, speaking to, and coming in any sort of contact with Bill; it had been eight days since they'd had sex, and Seto hadn't come to one Defence Against the Dark Arts class, nor to dinner, nor to his tutoring session on Sunday. Bill had tried to talk to Mokuba about it, but the boy had just cast him a pitying glance and hurried away—apparently, Seto had forbade him to talk to Bill. Or maybe Mokuba was just damn perceptive.

Either way, you fucked up big time, Bill thought to himself. And you'd better do something about it, or you're never going to get him back. And he'll flunk out of Hogwarts. And it'll be your fault.

"Shut up," he said aloud.

His thoughts silenced, he continued to sit with his hand over his eyes for several minutes.

Get a move on, Weasley.

Groaning, he forced himself to his feet, grabbing his mug and dumping the remains of his tea down the sink. "Tomorrow," he told himself. "I'll do it tomorrow. After the feast. Are you happy now?"

He swore he heard someone chuckle.

-o-

All through the Halloween feast, Bill felt like he was sitting on pins. Which would, he thought, be very uncomfortable.

(No shit, you idiot, he added soon after.)

He kept stealing glances to the Ravenclaw table to assure himself that Seto was still there—apparently, Mokuba had nagged him sufficiently about his poor eating habits to get him to attend. At the mental image this thought conjured up, Bill grinned. It was fun to cajole Seto—he was cute when he was flustered.

Not helpful, Weasley, the annoying voice in his head informed him, and the smile slipped from his face.

Shut up, he said. God, it was annoying having a voice in your head.

Conscience, the thing said smugly.

Whatever.

He chanced another glance at Seto, startled when the other's eyes met his. Both of them looked down at the same time, but Bill felt vaguely heartened by the fact that in the split second that they'd been looking straight at each other, he'd seen no genuine anger in Seto's eyes. Glancing around again, Bill shifted impatiently—the Halloween feast had never seemed so long when he had been attending Hogwarts. Of course, he admitted, you were rather more interested in the food and decorations back then. Sighing, he picked at the food on his plate, resigning himself to a long wait.

-o-

Finally, the golden platters cleared, and benches screeched as students pushed themselves back and got to their feet—Bill felt a moment of panic as he himself stood up and promptly lost sight of Seto in the milling crowd, but relaxed again as he spotted the brunet heading towards the library, apparently intent on getting some work done. Hurrying after him, Bill ran over the plan in his mind: find Seto, explain to Seto, make up with Seto. He almost fell over his own feet when Seto stopped suddenly and turned, glaring at him.

"What are you doing following me?" His voice was cold, and Bill stopped dead, knowing he looked as if he'd been smacked across the face. Or maybe punched in the gut.

He hadn't bargained for this.

"I…wanted to talk to you," he said. "You've been skipping my classes, and you didn't show up for your tutoring session on Sunday…."

Seto seemed to relax. "Is that what this is about, then? Schoolwork?" Bill shook his head, and something in the other's expression faltered. "What, then?"

Bill took a deep breath. "It's about us," he said.

"Us?"

"Why won't you talk to me—?"

"There is no us, Weasley."

Bill flinched. The words Seto had flung at him were not cold, but were instead flat, devoid of any emotion. Like Seto didn't care. Had never cared. "If you'd just let me explain," Bill began, but Seto cut him off again.

"Explain? There's nothing to 'explain'! You pretended to feel something for me, we fucked, and we went our separate ways! That's all it ever was!"

"Is that what you really think?" Bill said. "That I pretended to feel what I did for you? Why would I do that—"

"You think I know?" Seto shouted. "You were the one who professed your love, insisted I felt the same, made me believe I felt the same—!" His voice cracked, the façade of anger giving way to grief. Bill felt torn. Seto obviously didn't feel the same towards him, but he couldn't bear to see the other hurting…. The brunet turned away, hiding his face, so that all Bill could see was his outline, his shadow, in the flickering torchlight. "Fake," Seto said, voice quiet. "That's all it ever was. A big—lie." He spat the last word, making it a disgusting swear, the worst thing anything could ever be.

"It wasn't fake," Bill said. He had to explain, even if Seto still hated him after it. "I loved"—he corrected himself—"I still love you. It was never a lie. I thought you wanted it…."

Seto made a frustrated gesture, a strange sound escaping him. "It was never real," he said. "When I was with you, I had to be someone else, someone weak, someone you needed to take care of. I couldn't raise my voice, couldn't say no…you kissed me on the forehead like a little kid, for God's sake! You wanted someone fictional, someone from the movies. Someone else. Not me."

"No!" Bill said. "I never wanted you to pretend to be someone you weren't—I wanted to get to know you, not who you thought you should be!"

Seto gave a harsh, bitter laugh that half sounded like a sob. "No one wants that," he said. "Only in the movies."

"I do," Bill said quietly. "That's all I've ever wanted. After…after Fleur was murdered, it was all I could do to keep living. I thought I'd never feel anything again, never mind love! And then I met you, and you were so real, so upfront, so there, and I knew that I wanted to get to know you! Not someone you made up to try to please me—you!"

"Words mean nothing," Seto said dully.

"Then let my actions speak for me," Bill said, stepping forward and gently turning the other around to face him, cupping his cheek with one hand. "Even if what happened that day was not what should have happened, even if it's not what you really wanted in here," he said, briefly touching Seto's chest, "even then…I know you felt something real. Maybe so real that it scared you half to death. But you have to know that all I was thinking about was you and me. Us.

"The real us. Not a lie. Never a lie."

"How can you expect me to believe you, just like that?" Seto said. "How can you expect me to jump right back into bed with you, when I've spent the last nine days thinking that it was all fake?"

"I don't," Bill said simply. "All I want you to do, all I've ever wanted from you, is for you to try."

"And then we can fuck?"

Bill flinched at the harshness of the words, but answered just as plainly. "No," he said. "And then we'll see what happens."

Seto stiffened. "You don't know?" he demanded, taking a step back as Bill stepped forward. "You don't know what's going to happen?" There was a note of panic in his voice—if there was one thing Kaiba, Seto was afraid of, it was uncertainty about the future.

"No, I don't know," he said. "But I'm willing to try to find out. Are you?"

This time, it was Seto, trembling, scared, and hesitant though he was, who kissed Bill first.

"It has been two months! Two MONTHS!" the Dark Lord shrieked, pacing up and down the room, the wand in his pale hand shaking with rage. "WHY HAVE YOU NOT FULFILLED YOUR TASK?"

The cringing figure on the floor spoke, voice trembling, and Harry realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that he knew who the boy was. "My Lord, there are complications—I have tried, but—"

"You have what?" Voldemort hissed, voice low and dangerous.

The boy shook even more violently. "I have tried—"

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort yelled, and the young Deatheater before him writhed, screaming in pain. "TRYING IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" Voldemort was yelling. "I WANT ACTION! CAN NO ONE GIVE ME RESULTS?" He raised his wand, and the other suddenly stopped writhing and instead lay limp and still. Dead? Harry thought with a sudden rush of dread; but no, the figure was just unconscious, for he moaned, head raising from the flagstone floor, and Harry gasped in horror, because he knew that floor….

"I will serve," Draco said, raising his head weakly from the floor, blood staining his lip and chin. "On my life, I will fulfill my duty to you, my Lord. I swear…."

"You had better," Voldemort hissed. "I want that boy, Draco. And if I don't get himyou will serve in his place." And then, with a crack!, the Dark Lord Disapparated.

From within Hogwarts' walls.

to be continued…

Oooh! The TENSION! I FEEL IT! (OMG, it's all coming together, and I can feel your toes curling in SUSPENSE! MUAHAHAHAHA!)

Also, the next chapter, I am working on it. (And for OA, too.)