Seamus Finnigan

[afirefinnigan]

procidensdraco:

Too caught up in his own shit, it took Draco a moment to realise he’d sent Seamus crashing to the floor. He looked at him, slightly stunned, head ringing with the last words he’d spoken–or shouted. Why did his anger always have to get the better of him? Except it wasn’t anger. It was terror, and he knew the answer in an instant. The Dark Lord had broken him. Now he was weak, barely able to gather his thoughts let alone hold his tongue. Draco never used to doubt himself. Now he doubted everything.

Seamus was speaking, but the words washed over Draco. He could hardly remember what they were talking about. Whatever it was, it wasn’t what Draco intended and it was messing everything up. This was a mistake. He should have never come here. But he didn’t have a time turner, and even if he did, they didn’t work like that. They didn’t give you time back. He hadn’t meant to threaten Seamus with death or raise his voice or hurt him. But this wasn’t all Draco’s fault. Seamus wasn’t supposed to believe him. Turned out he was just like all the others; of course he believed Draco was a killer.

Merlin, he hoped he’d never have to say this, least of all to a Gryffindor.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets where they could do no more harm. “I’m…” He sighed, already removing one of his hands and rubbing it over his face. His words were in the wrong order, all mixed up in his head, partly from lack of practice and partly because he had meant to say more. I’m freaking out. I’m branded for life and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Better he just shut up before Seamus humiliate him further. Draco didn’t trust himself not to do something monumentally stupid. He did, in fact, want a friend. But was Seamus offering?

If so, it was proof he didn’t understand anything about Draco’s situation. He had been wretched before taking the Mark, now he was a fully-fledged Death Eater. He may not have cast the killing curse yet, but it was only a matter of time. He had already used two of the Unforgiveables. The old Ministry never stood for those spells. The theory was there was no coming back from them. So how exactly was Draco to believe that Seamus Finnigan would ever contemplate friendship between them?

“We have a detention to cover. Tomorrow morning. That’s what I came here to tell you.” A lie, and there were no younger students scheduled for the following morning. Draco would just have to find some, but that wouldn’t be too hard. “If you’re not up for it, pass the message to Patil. Same place as last time.”

Seamus wanted, almost, let out a well over Draco’s apology. It was unexpected and startling, and Seamus had to stop and stare at him a moment--a little befuddled that it had occurred and maybe thinking it was just something his brain had made up. For a moment. For an instant. Something like an offer of humanity--except neither Seamus nor Draco were full of that anymore.

“I’m always up for it. I make myself up for it.” Seamus declared, still staring. But that was true, too. He could make himself a little nicer for younger kids, a little more human. That was important, wasn’t it? More so then this fight. More so then all the fights Seamus couldn’t stop himself from picking.

“Look,” He gave a bit of a huff, pulling one leg up to his chest and leaning his chin on his knee. “I stick around here after because I’m not really up for...y’know... everything.” 

It was the closest Seamus could do to admitting some form of vulnerability. “So after, you know, the...whatever. I’m not my naturally charming and good-natured self.” He muscled up a grin, though it was a little stunted--the winked. He could always wink. “So if you want to argue--yeah, totally come visit again. Here. And all. Whatever. But if you want to remind me...” And Seamus wasn’t entirely sure that was the real reason, “And not be, like, hey lets see who is more emotionally stunted--Don’t be an idiot, we totally are--or whatever. . Just wait until I’m leaving.”

He shrugged, “In here the world is awful.” 

And then he made himself slide back off the countertop. “But not as awful as the fact that i’m certain I’ll never see you in a choker.” Because nothing could end on something so serious. Seamus drew a line around his neck. “Totally cool muggle fashion, its a necklace that circles the neck.”

For women, he didn’t add. Because of course he didn’t. 

[afirefinnigan]

procidensdraco:

Had he… Suck his… Face contorting with rage, Draco raised his hands and shoved. All he knew was that Seamus was too close to hex. He needed space to draw his wand, shape the spell–not that he did either of those things. It was enough to push him away. At least Seamus had the decency to turn red. Why did everyone think he wanted to… Rage turned to disgust and Draco turned away, pacing the aisle between the desks. If he stayed still, Seamus might just be tempted to hit him or hex him, and then Draco would have no alternative but to retaliate.

“I’m not a fucking house elf.” His voice reverberated through the room. Too loud. If the wrong person heard him then both he and Seamus would be in trouble. “If you want a servant, get yourself one of those creatures. Don’t expect me to bend over backwards trying to please the likes of you.”  Draco didn’t care about the blood in Seamus’ veins, not when he was such a loathsome ass half the time.

“Is that really the most notable thing about me? I take the Dark Mark, swear loyalty to the Dark Lord, I bring about the death of your precious headmaster, but all you lot care about is whether I want to go down on Potter?” This was it, the most excruciating punishment imaginable.

“Next time I won’t bother bringing the bread. You know I have an entire library about Dark Magic at the manor. Works that would never be permitted in this school. Where do you think the Carrows get their ideas? And Snape?” Draco was embellishing the truth slightly, but he did have such a library at the family estate and the answers to Seamus’ little problem could be there. “Too bad for you. You’ll never step foot in it.”

Seamus went down like a sack of rice--not his most graceful or ideal moments. He hadn’t been feeling steady, he hadn’t had his feet planted so he just went down, clattering into a chair. At least he was used to this, he figured. If there was one thing ingrained about this entire year it was that voice in the back of his head saying get up. This was not one of the hardest moments, though he winced when he braced against an arm that had been broken not too long ago. He felt a bit of sweat dot his brow and ignored it. 

“To be fair,” He offered and it game out a bit breathy, he thought about laughing but then thought better of it, “I’d have said the same to Harry if he was dumb enough to go on a Draco rant around me, too. Like, I’m an equal opportunist arse.” But, really, he thought to himself. Who could blame him on this particular topic?

No one. Though most probably wouldn’t have said it. Or not like that. Or not sexualized it. 

“I never asked for your bread.” Seamus hopped back up on the table, he was tempted to grab the bread and throw it at Draco--resisted again. “I just wanted to sit here and wait until I felt a bit better, for fucks sake, you’re the one who came in and...honestly, I don’t even fucking know anymore.” He knocked his head against the back wall in a quick, sharp tattoo. “I don’t know. I don’t know what you want because you don’t want a friend, obviously.” 

He did laugh this time, just a little, “Jesus fucking christ, did you hope I’d choke on it?” He made a gesture, “Or are you checking up on the dark magic experiment for your own studies?” He shook his head. “I guess I’m glad I’ll possibly live on in a book in your library one day?” He wasn’t angry, just baffled--if he had had the energy to do it he would have tried to trace the conversation and how it had gone bad but he didn’t.

[lavender--brown]

Bitter Sweet Symphony: Seamus | Lavender

[afirefinnigan]

lavender--brown:

“Yeah, I guess…” Lavender pulled her knees to her chest, staring at the fire. It was hard not to sound bitter about it, but it was better to get her snide comment out of the way before putting her out of her mind. “She always had a knack for – er – getting what she wants…”

He didn’t exactly answer her question, but she hoped that it meant that she wouldn’t be seeing Hermione Granger anytime soon unless she had a plan to get rid of Snape or something.

“Seamuuuus…” Lavender whined, hitting him with a couch cushion. “You know it doesn’t work like that! But…” She may as well humor him. “May 22, 1999 – five plus two plus two plus one plus three times nine…”

Numerology had made her pretty good at mental math now. “… so that makes 37… and three plus seven is ten, which is really just one… and that means living in the moment – so I think that means we’ll be going to a dance party? Which is really weird because, oh, I don’t know – you can’t dance!”

Lavender smirked as she snatched the wand from him and made circles with it over her open palm. A thin stream of ice piled up in her hand until that ice orb grew to something the size of a tennis ball. She held it like a snowball as she tried to press it against his face. “Now stay still, unless you want me to ice you in your sleep again… maybe then you’ll wish you had your wand holstered.”

“Hey! I can dance to the right music!” Seamus gauffed, mock affronted. “You just haven’t seen me dance to the right music--and no you cannot try to teach me ballet.”

The ice didn’t help matters--it was cold and Seamus instinctively flinched back...and into the back of the lounge. “Fuck thats cold---and i’ll have you know my wand is always holstered.”

Which was mostly said so that he wouldn't try to bat her away because there was no making this pleasant event if he probably did need the ice. “Not so much, Lav, come on.”

[afirefinnigan]

procidensdraco:

Draco flinched. It hurt how much he wanted it to be true. Two sides would have meant he had a choice. But it wasn’t. What choice did Draco have really? Within these walls, he was as much a hostage as any other student, and home had made hostages of his parents too. Draco was standing on a tightrope and he couldn’t afford to fall. Seamus was merely shaping the narrative to one that made him feel better about himself. That didn’t make it true.

He took a step toward Seamus, words leaving his lips in a snarl. “How do you expect me to believe that when you and your friends have your own private club? Forget to send the invitation did you?” How was Draco any different from them? He was looking after his own, just as they were looking after theirs. Draco didn’t trust easily, but it wasn’t like he’d ever been given a chance anyway. Not until it was too late. Dumbledore’s Army was a joke. Dumbledore had known about Draco’s mission all along–said he had been protecting Draco since he’d stepped off the Hogwarts Express. Now that was bullshit.

“You’re only working with me because it keeps the younger students from being tormented to death. I’m not stupid. I know if it came down to me or Potter, you’d rally to his side like all the rest.” Draco sniffed. Seamus reeked of iron and fire, or perhaps that was Draco’s imagination. Either way, it pained Draco to be this close to him, saying these words. There was so much he wanted but could never have because he was in too deep, drowning. Oh, how the Malfoy name had changed since Draco had taken this mark.

“He can end this, you know. Isn’t that what the prophecy was all about? Why the Dark Lord is so obsessed with destroying him? Why Dumbledore wasted all that time grooming him? Where is he, Seamus? Don’t you think its about fucking time he put an end to this?”

Draco was so ready for it to be over. He inhaled–his heart was racing, like he’d been running–then forced his lips into a shaky smirk. “Perhaps I already know where he is.” He hadn’t been able to get back in that room, and he’d spent long enough in there to sense why. Someone was already using it. The fact Draco hadn’t used this suspicion for ill was proof he didn’t have two us’s. He didn’t even have one.

“Oh, yeah, right because you’re so acing this whole cunning scheme.” Seamus shook his head, too tired of it to step back when Draco snarled. “Aren’t you supposed to be Slytherin? Isn’t that their whole thing?”

It might have come out biting if it hadn’t come out as a sigh. “Like, start and settle with bringing someone bread instead of going out of your way to make them distrust you sometime--that might actually get you answers, you know? You know. In some other universe. Where you haven’t made it your new years goal to ruin...well, probably everything.”

Because Seamus wanted to trust Draco. He had to, of course, for the younger kids--but it would have been nice if it was just bread and some teasing. But with Draco it was never just bread, it was never just a charm. Everything always had to hurt. Seamus missed Dean.

The Harry rant was expected--comforting even. Because it was always there. Under the surface. Waiting. Draco or Harry were so close to it almost always. He waved a hand as though gesturing Draco to go forward and find Harry. “Well, I hope you do so you can go ahead and suck his dick, then.” Was what came out and it startled even Seamus who stopped, eyes wide, and then went red.

[afirefinnigan]

procidensdraco:

Draco glared at Seamus. He didn’t know half of what was going on in this school, let alone what was going on beyond its walls. Otherwise he might pause before making statements about who was in trouble and who was throwing a fucking party. What did he want from Draco? An apology for staying alive? Draco would have been… if he’d never repaired that cabinet…

Something inside him snapped. He smoothed back his hair. He hadn’t cut it since the night on the Astonomy Tower. It had gotten so long.  

He perched on the edge of a desk, holding held out his arms. “By all means, go ahead.”

Seamus wasn’t the only one who was tired. At least if the Gryffindor killed him, Draco wouldn’t have to remember it anymore. Not Burbage, not Dumbledore. No more anxiety, no more sleepless nights; all this fucking guilt gone.

Of course, he didn’t actually think Seamus would do it. Now Potter on the other hand… Swallowing, he straightened his tie, remembering the cuts. Perhaps Draco should enlighten Seamus Finnegan about his friend.

“After all…” Draco pressed on, forcing himself to look Seamus in the eye. “One of us dies and I’ll kill you myself.”

Did he mean what he was saying? Were it Crabbe or Goyle, Pansy, Zabini… Could Draco stomach working with Seamus and Padma knowing they had snuffed the life from someone he called a friend? Draco had never cast the killing curse–he hadn’t needed to, between the Dark Lord and his pet Nagini, and bloodthirsty Aunt Bellatrix. Not to mention Snape, always pushing his big nose where it wasn’t wanted, taking over tasks assigned to him. Nevermind that Draco was secretly relieved.

Draco wasn’t talking about the Death Eaters this time. ‘Us’ meant the children who had been clad in armour since they were babes; whose parents had thrust them into this ridiculous war; who had found their own ways to survive. Sure, some donned the mask and bore the Mark. Would Seamus rather they rot in a shallow grave? For Draco, there had only been one way out and Professor Snape–Snape, not Draco–had killed him.

Seamus waited, let that settle. He looked at Draco--because what else could he do? Looking away wasn’t an option so he waited, sized Draco up, but did not lift his wand. He knew it would shake, for one, and for the other--he and Padma needed Draco.

Then he laughed. 

It actually surprised Seamus--who was a little nauseous and shaky. Laughter. Honest and not clouded by a sort of snide aggression that he often used to prop himself up with. It sucked out his breath, left him lightheaded. 

“Us?” He asked, because what else was there to do. He quieted, not intending to be unkind but leaned back and slid slightly against the lip of the table. He looked to the lights around the room which were low at this point in the evening, then back at Draco. “Which one of ‘us’, Draco?”

Because wasn’t, out of the two of them, Draco playing more sides? “Where...” he stopped, licked his bottom lip. It tasted of metal and he had to swallow hard. “You’ve got two, now, y’know?” He said instead of asking the question that had come up first, where are your friends, Draco? “Two ‘us’s.”

He pinched his eyes closed a moment, rubbing distractedly at the bridge of his nose. “But I guess you just told me which one wins out.” 

What was it, he thought, that phrase: blood always wins out? 

[speckledgingermug]

“Oh! Merlin, you scared me…”

[afirefinnigan]

“With what?”

“My knapsack of pilfered dinner for you?”

[afirefinnigan]

procidensdraco:

“You’re no good to me intoxicated with…” he waved a hand in Seamus’ direction, “whatever they’re feeding you.” Draco didn’t need any ‘thanks you’s–at least, not from Seamus or anyone else in Dumbledore’s Army. He needed them from the Dark Lord.  There was a noose around Father’s neck and the lever that would eventually be pulled–unless Draco found a way to make amends.  He had the sense that time was running out, what with Potter’s feet randomly appearing in corridors.

Seamus would know. That was an antagonising thought. He had half a mind to hex the information out of him. Where’s Potter? Why is he here? But Draco kept his hands firmly in his pockets. He could resist the temptation this time.

Instead he said: “Why do you do it? They give you the blood, but you drink it. Why don’t you resist?” Wasn’t that the main objective of Dumbledore’s Army? To resist the inevitable? Draco had begun to find it inspiring, but instead of him being more like them, in Seamus it appeared to be the other way around. The Carrows were making him their bitch, and he was letting them. “You know we’re not actually allowed to let people die on our watch?”

Our. A habit, or a slip of tongue. Draco’s cheeks grew warm. He didn’t feel like one of them anymore, a Death Eater. In fact, he relished the differences. Draco Malfoy didn’t resort to torturing people with blood, human or otherwise. Draco Malfoy favoured tradition, like any noble witch or wizard would. Draco Malfoy did not let his enemies be devoured by snakes on his dining table.

There were lots of answers Seamus could provide for why. He didn’t have it in him to torture someone else. This was a lesser torture then what could be done to him. He was tired. He was tired. He was tired. He didn’t want the threat of giving up his own mind. Instead he shrugged, putting down the bread beside him, “If they are both here they can’t be anywhere else. My resistance is taking their time.” 

Fewer people screaming if you take away two instigators.

If Seamus could know when it was going to happen--maybe that’d be a good time for action, too? Or maybe not. Even Seamus could only draw things out so long and the Carrow’s weren’t the only ones that needed to be watched.

“Thats a bunch of bullocks and you know it.” Seamus eyed Draco, lazily. He wondered if, in the end, Draco would stay standing in the middle--or, if not, which side he would take. Didn’t everyone have to take a side at some point? “One of us dies? They throw you a party and make an announcement about how the student is a runaway but the snatchers are hot on their trail.”

Seamus didn’t believe for a minute that anyone who was said to have run away did. If they had...they would have waited for a Hogsmeade trip. “One of you die and we’re, well, in a lot of trouble.”

He slid off the table top, tried not to twinge or jitter or shiver like he wanted to. Sometimes Seamus stared at his fingertips and wondered if it was stress or something else that made them understudy. "You going to test out my theory?”

[afirefinnigan]

carriesdeath:

He could understand it a little more when Seamus put it like that. Hurt a bit less. Sounded like something Sirius might’ve said, a long time ago. The world wasn’t divided into good people and Death Eaters. But Harry had trouble wrapping his head around anything other than right and wrong back then and that hadn’t really changed. He could forgive - Ron left, but Ron came back. But he wouldn’t get behind these plans. Wouldn’t endorse it.

The thing was - he had no way of stopping it. His job, it was more important than trying to get Seamus or Padma or anyone else to stop their way of working into things. Maybe that, in fact, was Harry’s own form of Greater Good. He couldn’t save everyone, he already knew that. 

“I didn’t want to come here and tell you how to do whatever it is you’re doing - “ Throwing Seamus’ own words back at him. But both boys had less anger in them now. That was clear by their rapidly quieting voices. No longer shouts, though they long ago caught the attention of everyone in the room. “ - but the people in there… they asked. You all came to me, asking how to get things done. You wanted to know how I’d do it? Well now you know.”

He couldn’t trust him. Not anymore. And that thought hurt Harry more than anything else that had happened since he’d come back. They couldn’t let the D.A. know what they were doing. “I’ll do my job, then. As fast as I can.” He raised his voice slightly to the rest of the room, but it wasn’t angry anymore. “I’ll get it done, but no one asks me what it is anymore. I can’t tell any of you. Got that?” The last part directed at Seamus.

"Of course they did,” Seamus sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Thats because you strolled in and they thought everything was going to change. It never was.” And he had known that, and dreaded it. He still dreaded it--the knowledge like a pit in his stomach. Or maybe that was from earlier in the day. “But that doesn’t excuse you for giving blind directions.”

There was a difference between providing answers and just mouthing off. In Seamus’ opinion, Harry had done the latter. He mouthed off, he knew people looked up to him and he passed judgement. That was damaging because they all had to be their best if they were going to survive. 

“Harry, I don’t give a fuck about your secret.” This came out as another sigh, but he laughed, too. “I’d help if you ask for it without asking questions but I... don’t care about your secrecy. Blah, fucking, blah Harry importance.” He gave a little wave, as though to brush it across the room. “My job is to start shouting and redirect attention, thats why my face is so pretty. I’m just asking,” Though not at first, it was more telling, “You to pull your pants from your crotch and stop stomping on people.”

Got it? Like Harry was the leader here anymore. But that was a battle Seamus didn’t need to pick. “I got shit to do. You know my talents--call me if you need them. Including the need to kick in someones face.”

[afirefinnigan]

carriesdeath:

The mention of Luna was a low blow, but Harry had heard worse in his time. And, with that one, he actually knew more than Seamus. “She’s not dead!” He yelled it for the benefit of everyone. “I know because, despite what everyone here thinks, I actually have been doing something important! She was taken by the Death Eaters, yeah, but she’s still alive.” Or - she was. But Xenophilius had been days ago. No, Harry couldn’t think that. Luna was okay!

“I’m not the one that said you were expendable! That’s what I was telling Padma in the first place! If you’re raising wands on the younger students just to stay in the good lane with the Carrows, then are you really any better than the people who aren’t taking a side in this war? Any better than the Slytherins? Or the Death Eaters? If you really wanna prove to me that you think everyone in this castle is important, then fight back.”

He made a noise of frustration. Seamus wasn’t listening - he couldn’t understand! Harry cared about this war! It was the only this that mattered. He and Voldemort - facing off, in the end. “I care about all of you! I care about this war! But I don’t care what you think about me, Seamus, because you’ve already proven that you don’t see me as anything other than what the papers say. Undesirable. That’s it, isn’t it? Selfish and a coward and only thinking about myself! Think it all you want but in the end it won’t change anything. Because I’m still going to do what I’ve got to do and you’re still going to think what you think.” 

“We are not doing any of that to stay in good.” Seamus went cold at that--there were a lot of things they were doing, but that was not one of them. “We are making choices. We are choosing to control what we can.” It was like a philosophical debate--but Harry, no matter what he said, did not care. He didn’t have to think about how a curse was going to happen no matter what--so how could they make sure it was less intense? How could they help as many as possible without losing ground?

“So we fight back.” Seamus felt tired right then. Suddenly, completely. Just drained. “There’s eleven of us and more of them. Unless we are able to kill them... what happens, Harry? Do you know? I do. A first year gets picked up as a shield and the Carrows? Some of the slytherin? They want that kid to hurt.” He sucked on his teeth, “There’s also the chance we could end up imperio’d and sent to spy on our friends. Can you imagine?” 

He shook his head. “Nah, Harry, I found my own head up my arse a year ago. So, nah, I fucking get it.” Sure, Harry was selfish, a little. But not because of the papers and Seamus wouldn’t label him a coward. “You have other shit to do and I can trust you to do--whatever the fuck it is you’re doing.”

It wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter. “But in return: goddamit-- trust us to know how best to fight back and when to fight back.” Because they were--in their own ways. Quieter then Harry, maybe, but with their own attempts at care. “Some of us are disposable in this war. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t trying to figure out how to help before that becomes obvious.”

[afirefinnigan]

carriesdeath:

“I see a problem with not fighting back. What’s the point of being an army - ” A play on the name. “ - when some of you are doing the very thing you’re supposed to be fighting against?”

“Go ahead, Seamus! Go right ahead! I don’t care! I don’t care what any of you have to say about ‘my thing!’ I have a job to do. And since I can’t trust that someone won’t go back and whisper in Snape’s ear - then I guess it’s a good thing I’m on my own, then!” It’s a good thing he hadn’t told anyone his plan. He’ll have to stick to it being just him and Hermione from now on.

“Oh, yeah...army.” Seamus choked on the laugh. “Lets see... there’s...oh. Twelve of us? Eleven, actually, seeing as Luna Lovegood was fucking kidnapped and might be dead.”

Seamus knew that there were other’s around them and so he turned a moment to address them, “Yeah, I said it. Not like anyone hasn’t been fucking thinking of it since the train.”

“You were included in that possible betting pool, by the way. Whose dead now?” He offered as he turned back around. “So there’s eleven of us. You don’t count. Hermione doesn’t count. And there are dozens of first through third years. What do you want us to do, Harry, choose which ones are expendable?”

The answer was: none of them. Seamus would have been hard pressed with some of the older Slytherin students, some of the things he had seen them do--and take pleasure in... But those would also be the students least likely to be made into a shield. “Ginny and Neville: they are fantastic leaders. I could tell you what we have to choose every day but you don’t care. You don’t care. So I’m telling you to back off unless you’re going to start goddamn caring.”

[afirefinnigan]

carriesdeath:

Harry shouldn’t have been surprised that Padma had told on him. He didn’t care - not really. But all this yelling was hindering with figuring out his plan. He and Hermione barely got time alone together to really decide what to do about this, but Harry had decided for sure that he wasn’t giving up the wand. And, even though he could handle people being against him, it hurt when it was people who’d always been on his side before.

“Being skittish is the problem. I never said I knew what you were all dealing with in here - but I do know that I wouldn’t be following orders I don’t agree with and claiming it’s for the greater good!”

“So its the goddamn problem--that you know nothing about.” Seamus snorted. “You just said it yourself--judgement on one hand but admitting you know nothing. And you don’t see the problem with that?”

“Do you see me passing judgement on your thing? I mean, other than right here, right now, stopping your sitting on your arse doing jack shit thing?”

[lavender--brown]

Bitter Sweet Symphony: Seamus | Lavender

[afirefinnigan]

lavender--brown:

Instead of placing the ball on her lap, it was better in the unoccupied couch corner. Lavender should have known better than to place it in her lap, but it was hard to keep track of everything while she was asleep.

“And Hermione’s going to bed the whole world with her cat?” She repeated Seamus’s sentence, a little confused, but mostly defensive. He had hit a tender spot with mentioning her, even though Lavender had much worse issues to deal with than the girl he had lost her boyfriend to. “Why did you mention Hermione?”

She inhaled sharply through her nose, unsure if she wanted to know why Seamus suddenly brought her up. It had been months since they had last seen Hermione Granger. Lavender finally got her wish that Hermione Granger would just disappear – but the consequences of that had been so much more awful than what she could have predicted.

Especially since Seamus shouldn’t be getting in trouble over being mouthy, at least not the kind of trouble where Lavender wasn’t sure what he looked like without bruises anymore. She tsked at him, trying not to sound too worried – it was hard to when he smiled like that, but she was distracted by all this talk of Hermione. and turned her head for her wand so she could summon some ice cubes. They were really more like ice wedges, but it wasn’t like Seamus was going to threaten to kill her over improper form. How the hell were you supposed to get your wand movements right when you’ve been tortured from one side of the castle and back again?

“Fuck – can you – can you get me my wand?” Lavender had left it in the armchair cushion she had, and she was trying to lean on Seamus to point at where it was. She gave a little pout. Hermione was the bossy one, not her! “Pretty please?”

Seamus was momentarily uncertain--had he said Hermione was going to bed the whole world with her cat? Well, that wasn’t impossible... well, improbable. He could have said such thing. Seamus quickly decided it didn’t matter. “Do you know anyone who could boss the whole world as quickly as Hermione? Don’t have to love her methods to know she’s better at that then you or me.”

He twisted, shifting away if only because he had to figure out where the wand was. “Uh...sure, lets find it.” A better choice would be to just summon it but Seamus was tired and having things on hand the muggle way felt somehow better. 

He fished it out and offered it with a flourish. “We should make you a holster for that.” He mused as he settled back down along the back of the couch. “Really, everyone should have one. Just in case.”

What would happen if they were caught without their wands? A murder, probably. A slaughter, more likely. How was it they even had to think of that?

But a moment later he was grinning again, “So what are we going to be up to in May 22nd, 1999.”

[afirefinnigan]

procidensdraco:

Draco was trying.

But when he’d approached Alecto with questions, she’d sneered:  Why are you interested in our little experiments with that bruised-up halfblood?

Draco offered up something about research and learning from the professionals. The Dark Lord could take father’s wand, open the doors of the Manor to every ill-mannered fool as he pleased, but would not strip Draco of his charm. He had enough of it left to get past the odd barrier. But all the flattery in the world wouldn’t have gotten Draco any information on why they were doing this to Seamus and what they hoped to achieve. It was a bad omen. In the absence of information, Draco could only assume it was purely for the pleasure of watching him suffer. If the Carrows didn’t know what they were doing, what was to say they wouldn’t fuck something up and kill him?

Draco paused outside the door, doubt coiling in his stomach, ready to spring. If the Carrows learned he’d intervened–if they caught him being anything but brutal to Seamus Finnegan–he’d be the one writhing under the Cruciatus Curse, or drinking blood, or…

He closed his eyes, the ledge of the Astronomy Tower swimming across his vision. Nothing scared him as much as the lesser of the Unforgivables, having that last shred of free will being taken from him. Not even death.

A sigh. Don’t get caught then.

He turned the knob and pushed, but the door resisted. A tap of the wand later and he slipped inside. The classroom was empty save for Seamus, and–ugh, how could he smell it already? Pungent blood burned his nostrils.

“You need to find a better hobby,” he said quietly, moving to the window and throwing it ajar. He was nauseous, whether from the sight of Seamus fighting against the effects, whatever they were, the stench of the blood, or the fact that he was risking his skin for this… Draco didn’t know.

“I brought you a snack. It’ll soak up the…” Draco wrinkled his nose, holding out the breadroll he’d pinched from the kitchens. “The blood.” This was disgusting. Torturing people was one thing, but force-feeding them the blood of some creature… Seamus would be lucky if he left this school still human.

“Oh, like yours? Slowly becoming a snake?” Seamus cracked an eye open and grinned before giving Draco a hiss--some obvious facsimile of parcel tongue which he very obviously did not speak. “Did you catch that? All of you speak it, right?” 

He straightened after that, slipping into a mostly-upright seated position and reaching to take the bread. It was nice, which was strange--Draco Malfoy was a lot of things but nice was new. Not unwanted, at this point, but new. A new year, a new you--the thought came unbidden and burbled up in a nauseas laugh. 

“You know,” He offered when he finally had swallowed it down again. “This just means I’m, like, guaranteed survival.” 

He ripped off a bit of the roll and popped it into his mouth, nodding. “Like, who knows what it is but its bound to end up being some sort of ...useful surprise, right?”

There was absolutely no guarantee about that and, when he let himself think around it, Seamus sometimes wondered if even God would want him after this. Unicorn blood? Probably not. But the rest... all creatures great and small, maybe, but what about the ones that weren’t his creation? “Thanks.” He offered, quieter--like being more direct would scare Draco off from this track of inexplicable kindness. “It does--y’know--help.”

[afirefinnigan]

@carriesdeath

“Okay,” Seamus had stewed on this long enough. He’d actually tried not making it an issue but it had settled in the pit of his stomach and festered in the way that Padma’s hand tremmored around her wand that day. “What the fuck is your problem, Harry?”

“Like, really, do you get your goddamn nut off rattling skittish girls trying to survive this hell hole? Or are you just that fucking oblivious?”

[lavender--brown]

👫

“It’s like the most danceable Christmas song to have ever existed!” If Lavender’s humming some overplayed song of the summer, usuallySeamus will pick it up first. Then she’ll try to convince him that she’s thenext Mariah Carey. She doesn’t have a badvoice, but she hadn’t learned her lesson from the last time she strained hervocal cords trying to prove a point. She first heard Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You afterthe Yule Ball and was determined to sing Seamus’s ears off after they came backfor their second term, insisting that there’s no way he couldn’t dance to it.

“But maybe you wouldn’t be tripping on your own feet so much if you had clothes that actually fit right…” Lavender reallywants to take Seamus on a shopping spree. Her family isn’t ostentatiously wealthy but a few well-tailored basics can last anyone a few years and still keep up with the fashion. The only reason she hasn’t is becausehe hasn’t proved himself capable ofgentleman’s clothes and she has a feeling he’d rip him his new wardrobe to shredsin a week, and she didn’t want to follow him around to magically repair everything. But Lavender is convinced theone of the reasons why he’s always hurting himself is because of ill-fittingclothes.

“Who else am I supposed to believe? You, who’s telling me everything, or him, the one who doesn’t care about what we think enough to change our minds?”Seamus was the one Lavender believed during fifth year, butshe didn’t think that she was choosing sidesuntil he and Harry had that row in the Gryffindor Common Room. That being said though, Lavender was never 100% on board with how loud Seamuswas – it was so rough around theedges and it was louder than Lavendersometimes. This year was different though; Lavender’s now thankful that Seamusis there to fill the silence. It’s the only way she really knows what the DA isup to. All I Want For Christmas Is Youmay be a world’s away but it’s nice to know that the link to all of the stuff she loved at home is still around.

“And I thought that mending anything would be easier than mending a broken heart, right?” Lavender cried when she was rejected by Ron – even whenSeamus took all those Witch Weeklyquizzes for her and told it to herstraight: Won-Won’s not into you. Lavender didn’t wanna hear him say I told you so, so it was Parvati’sshoulder that soaked up her tears in sixth year. But Lavender cried when shewas first subjected to a Cruciatus from the Carrows – and was damn thankfulthat Seamus found her instead of Parvati. She just felt more protected around Seamus now, especiallywhen he’s close and Lavender can only hope he’s not as angry as he’s been. She’ll summon some ice and press it on the part of his face that looks the most purple, but she’s learned now not to do it when he’s in the middle of napping in the common room.

@afirefinnigan

[lavender--brown]

Bitter Sweet Symphony: Seamus | Lavender

[afirefinnigan]

lavender--brown:

Lavender leaned forward, reaching her hand out – she trusted Seamus, but she didn’t trust him with crystal balls. At least they were a little more sturdy than the tea cups though; any time she did a reading for the Gryffindor boys she’d always use a borrowed set from the Divination Tower.

The crystal ball reflected a bit of ember in the fireplace as it finally settled on the table. Lavender froze, arm in midair as if still reaching for it and anticipating for another drop.

“Excuse you – the macarena never left, and if it did, you’d be the one to bring it back!” After all, it was the only dance he was able to properly lead during the Yule Ball anyway. “Maybe we should switch places though – I personally prefer the Inner Eye when I’m awake… less… I don’t know… unpredictable?”

It sounded stupid when she explained it like that but dreams never really answered any questions. Her dream diary was filled with names of similar faces and recurring symbols, but there wasn’t much to piece together if she were dreaming about the same thing over and over again.

“Move –” She finally stood to seat herself near Seamus on the same couch, playfully pushing him to make room. “—and I will tell you all about what the Inner Eye whispered in my ear the other night! That is…” Lavender paused dramatically to look him in the eye before plopping beside him. “… if you tell me how you got that…” She pointed at one of his wounds; it looked newer and fresher than some of the others.

Seamus offered the ball to her, unbothered by any implication (however right) that he was not safe with it. It was better not to fuss over something so minor and it would be a waste if it broke.

Seamus sorted, blinking up at Lavender for a moment with a little extra laze and a shit eating grin. “Oi, bossy.” He did budge over, though--angling slightly so they were close, brushing, but not one on top of the other. “Nothing all that dramatic. Got a little mouthy in class--a shocker--and that wasn’t much liked.”

Virtually same old. It felt same old--which was weird, when he thought about it. Since when was all of this normal? ...and yet, it was. “So start telling me all the futures.” He insisted and began spinning his own ridiculous tales. “How you’re going to have your own tea shop and reading room in Diagon Alley and ... “ Hermione was back, “And how Hermione’s going to bend the whole world to her thinking with ...” Something ridiculous. “Her cat.”

[rijsamurai]

Dean Thomas’s notebook