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Maeve Briony Finnigan6th Year | Gryffindor God only lets things grow to perfectionsome just didn't take as long as others.

104 posts

bromeoxahn:

Y’know what, he thought. Fuck it. Lance rose from his chair and approached hers. Worst case scenario, she’d push him off and they’d have a laugh. He squished himself by her side and propped an arm behind her, wiggling his behind until he was comfortable. “Excuse me, just finna’ get a closer look at that non existent blush,” Lance winked smoothly. Chuckling down at her, he cocked an eyebrow. “You Finnigans, of course you’d think being known to blow shit up is a fine reputation. Too wild, too wild.” He scoffed at Maeve, “you can’t even manage a laugh, how do you think you’re gonna fair on a field? Pipe down, Maeve. If you play this week I’ll give up a toe.”

Maeve’s brow scrunched together in confrusion as she watched him get up from his own chair and move towards her, the frown remained even as he made himself comfortable beside her, but then the blush returned and she smiled almost shyly for her as she moved to make room for him. “Makre yourself comfortable, you’re not going to find it.” Though her cheeks were clearly a lovely shade of red. “Well, I guess it’s just me and my Da - my older brother isn’t too fond on the idea anyhow.” She scrunched her nose and shrugged. “Prepare to forfeit that toe, coz I’m playing!”

He laughed, shaking his head at her amusedly. “It’s cool, I get it. You got a reputation to uphold, can’t have anyone thinking you’re not tough. Deny the blush all you want.” Lance loved the stubbornness in Maeve, loved her fire. And the fact that she didn’t need to lose any of her cute or girly qualities to maintain it. “I mean, personally, I heard y’all Finnigans have a thing for blowing shit up. Which falls under the category of wildness, so it’s obviously true.” If she wasn’t sick, he’d have initiated a cuddling session, or at least tried to. But he got the feel that Maeve would appreciate her space right now. “Seriously, you’re gonna try and play Quidditch? You are too much, Maeve Finnigan. Too fucking much,” he chuckled.

“I’m not denying it - It doesn’t exist. You’re imagining things! Seeing things! You should probably see someone about that...” Maeve let a smile creep across her seriously, and very pale, face. It’d been awhile since she’d felt this kind of giddy feeling around someone, and she was pretty certain it had nothing to do with the potions she’d been taking for her fever. “Aye, that we do, and a fine reputation it is - wouldn’t you say.” It wasn’t really a question, she didn’t care if anyone else liked her family reputation. “Of course I am, can’t let my team down. They need me y’know! We’re on a winning streak - I’d like to take some credit for that!” She laughed, but it didn’t last long fading into a heavy, and exhausted, sigh.

He laughed, “hell fucking yeah, boo. Real class.” Lance’s regard at Maeve narrowed, after he finished shovelling the remaining soup in the bowl into his mouth. “Maeve, babes, I think your blush is showing.” It wasn’t said in a mocking way, as he genuinely found it cute. Leaning back in his chair, Lance considered her question for a moment. “More exciting, I ‘spose. It’s not often you come across someone as ruthless as to not like soup. Who knows what else you’re capable of? Fucking wild, man,” he mused with a jocular jeer. Lance really felt bad for Maeve, he hated getting sick. “Sure you shouldn’t, I dunno, stop past the Hospital Wing just to be safe?” He tilted his chin up at her, “sure, agree to disagree. If that’s what you wanna call it.”

Maeve’s mouth popped open in shock, but she quickly recovered. “What? No - it’s just fever. I’m boiling up over here... the warm soup hasn’t helped that either y’know.” The defensive was probably only more of a tell, and she mentally scalded herself. She wasn’t usually like this. She laughed at his response, secretly glad he’d said it was more exciting. “Well, y’know what they say about Finnigans - We’re ruthless and fucking wild.” She settled herself back into the chair, resting her head against the back as she turned to look at him, Shaking her head ever so slightly she also scrunched up her nose. “Nah - it’s just the flu. I’m practically dying but there’s not alot they an do. I’ll just end up stuck in there on “bed rest’, and I hate being confined to one place. Plus I have Quiddich Training this week and like fuck they’ll let me go.”

“I’ll carry you and your pale legs, I’m a real class guy like that,” he assured. Lance nodded his head affirmatively, grin still on his lips, “damn straight, this wonderful shade of caramel.” Teasing and banter were second nature to him, maybe even first. Maeve dealing it back was great. Again, he gasped at her for dissing soup. “Mate, that’s actual blasphemy. Soup is more exciting than half the birds in my year. You know what the problem is? You’re not on soup’s level.” Lance watched her cough, his expression softening with sympathy. “You’re well sick, innit?” Laughter rolled from his lips, though he waved his hand at her in a dismissive manner. “Nah, you don’t know what you’re chatting. Halmeoni’s soup ain’t no second place holder.”

“You’d carry me outside, just so I could kick your arse? You really are gentlemanly on a completely different level.” Mae’s laughter faded as her cheeks flushed that damn shade of red again, probably even more prominent considering she was already slightly flushed thanks to an oncoming fever. She couldn’t believe she’d actually said he was a wonderful shade of caramel. “Well maybe I’m not on soups level because I’m not in your year, but does that make me less exciting or more exciting?” She asked, shrugging slightly at his observational rhetorical question. “It’s basically the plague.” She said solemnly, before smirking up at him. “Okay - shall we just add this to the ‘agree to disagree’ list we’re slowly growing?”

kiranskhan-blog

“Okay, okay… I think I’ve figured it out now. You’re into girls, aren’t you?”

Mae narrowed her eyes at him, astounded by his obnoxious level of pig ignorant. “Yeah - that’s clearly the only other alternative explanation here.”

“I mean, that would depend on which arm… Hah, sike. I’m ambidextrous. To be fair, I don’t think I’m that much of either of those. A little, yeah, but I gotta hold back just in case I get a shot at a silver lining.”

“You’re fucking stupid too apparently. Are we done here, I can feel myself losing brain cells by the second and I kind want to pass my OWLS.”

#;c:caiuscrouch1

Gazing up to Maeve, his smile twisted into a small smirk. “Yeah, you pale folk. Got a problem with it, girl? We can take it outside,” Lance’s laughter following the comment indicated he was only joking. He feigned a hurt expression and a gasp, indignantly shaking his head at her admission. “You’re not a big fan of soup? What, do you hate Christmas, too?” Another humble shrug was executed by broad shoulders, shaking as they omitted bout of chuckles. “Eh, what can I say? Us Ahn’s are multitalented folk,” Lance ended the sentence with a wink of his own. He liked hearing Maeve talk about her family, as it was an aspect of his own life that was obviously incredibly important. Yet, he still snorted. “Grammy’s stew, eh? Cute, honey, very cute. I’d thank you and eat it, out of, y’know, courtesy. Ma didn’t raise a boy with no manners. And then I’d go see my Halmeoni and get the real shit,” the wizard indicated downwards to his bowl, nearing emptiness.

Mae smiled at his laughter, so infectious she so desperately wished she had the energy to laugh along with him. “I would, but I don’t think my poor pale legs would carry me that far - I’d have more of a problem with it if I didn’t already know how horrendously pale I was but alas; Irish blood. We can’t all be a wonderful shade of caramel.” She scrunched up her nose teasingly, though knowing Lance he’d definitely not see her comment as anything less than a compliment. “I mean - what is soup, it’s just flavoured liquid in a bowl. It’s nothing horribly exciting - unlike Christmas which is by far my favourite day of the year, bar my birthday.” She coughed then, having to rest her bowl on the arm of the chair to save from sloshing it all over herself, and after gathering her wits she laughed - half at herself because she felt so pathetic right now and half at what he had said. “You would wolf it down out of enjoyment, honestly - Grammy’s stew tops everything, though your Halmeoni’s soup is cutting in a close second, honey.”

“I know I didn’t.” He assured, “but what are friends for, right?” Lance scooped at his own soup and shovelled in into his mouth, not bothering with being coy. He’d always been a heavy eater, being as active as he was meant working up an appetite. “Right? Ma used to make it when I got sick. She still does for the little ones back home.” Sipping at the tea between mouthfuls, he continued to work away at emptying the bowl. “I bet you pale folk have soup that’s meant to cure as well, but I’m telling you now, and I don’t even need to try it; Korean shit is better, boo.” Lance shrugged his shoulders humbly, “no biggie, Maeve. You’d do it for me, yeah?”

Maeve watched amused as he hoovered down his own soup without care for it’s temperature, she was used to the accelerated speed at which boys ate and it was often commented on how quickly she demolished a plate of food once presented to her - but that's mostly a survival instinct - eat quick for fear someone else would steal it. Today she barely had the energy to life the spoon however. “Us pale folk?” She chuckled before taking another slurped spoonful. “I’ll try not to be offended, to be honest though - I’m not a big fan of soups.” She said, pulling a rather guilty face before quickly holding up a hand. “But this - this is amazing!” She assured him, reaching for the tea. He hand paused over the cup and she looked at him, picturing him feverish and weak - requesting soup, tea and chocolate cauldrons and she smiled to herself before nodding. “Of course I would. But I’d bring you my Grammy’s famous stew instead, super secret family receipe and she swears it can cure anything. No Finnigan has ever died o’anything other than natural causes.” She winked, returning to her soup.

Observant wasn’t one of Lance’s most prominent traits, but being sweet with the ladies definitely was one of his talents. And who could miss Maeve, the past few days, sniffing about, dozing off and speaking with that nasally blocked nose tone? After sorting a few things, he approached the girl curled up in the common room, placing his backpack down on the footstool by the chair he sat in. “Okay, boo thang,” he started, unzipping it and unloading items before the two of them. “Let me introduce you to the Ahn family care pack. Courtesy of old Halmeoni Ahn, otherwise known as the OG Grandma. With a few little twists by yours truly, for sure.” Two thermoses, cups, bowls, spoons and six chocolate cauldrons sat between Maeve and Lance. He twisted open the first thermos and poured into each cup, “Ginseng tea, to stop fatigue.” Bromeo went after the second thermos and poured into the bowls. It smelt strongly of garlic and assorted herbs, “Samgyetang soup, for all it’s magic healing power.,” He pushed one toward her and slid a spoon into it, “aaaaand, chocolate cauldrons because they’re the fucking shit.”

Maeve watched him as he unpacked his bag with a small tug in her brow, wondering to herself whether he was intending to do his potions homework right here in the common room, but that tug soon vanished as her eyebrows raised in surprise. With a grateful smile She closed her book, nudging it away letting it slide to the floor with a heavy thump, and sat up a little more. She took the bowl of soup and sniffed at it appreciatively, making a satisfying sound of approval even though she couldn’t smell a thing, and laughed as he gestured to the chocolate cauldrons before nodding seriously in agreement. “You didn’t have to do this for me.” She smiled, her voice evidence of just how tired she felt, but she gingerly lifted the spoon and slurped at the soup. It was warm, not too hot, and it tasted wonderful. “This is great. Thank you Lance.”

Maeve sat by the fire in the common room, she had dragged the throw from the end of her bed down with her and was curled up in one of the comfy armchairs with her Ancient Runes book open in her lap, her head however rest against the back of the chair as her eyes drifted closed. She felt rather than saw someone stand in front of her, though their body had also blocked the dim light from the fire that glowed through her eyelids. “What? I’m not sleeping, I was just resting my eyes.” She sniffed, her voice sounding weird thanks to her blocked nose. Opening her eyes, a smile erupted. “Oh, it’s you. Hi Lance.”

#;starters #;c:lanceahn2

“Beep. Wrong answer. The phrase we were looking for was: amputating a limb! We’re very sorry, Miss Finnigan, please come back soon and play again.”

“How about I amputate your arm, and then you can go fuck yourself with it? You’re an arsehole and a little bit twisted. I think you should see someone about that.”

#;c:caiuscrouch1

“Hey!” He playfully pushes her hand away. “I’m all bite. I’m way faster on a broom than you are.”

“You may be faster Albus, but I have the better aim. It’s a fifty, fifty chance whether that quaffles going through the hoop with you, even if I’m not defending. We both know ninety-nine percent of mine swoop straight on through.”

#;c:albuspotter1 #hc accepted #he's got wicked aim as necessary as a beater too

kiranskhan-blog

“Nah, girls have turned me down before; periods, boyfriends, and all of that. I’ve just never had a girl turn me down for a whackjob.”

“Okay, alright - maybe Caius was a bad example.Frankly, I’d rather set myself on fire than make out with him, but my point still stands. You’re still at the bottom of the list of guys I would let anywhere near me”

greensassing-blog

“Nah, I’d rather make you work for it, Fighting Irish, it’s not fun unless it’s a challenge.”

“Don’t push me Marlene...”

#;c:marlenegreengrass1

maxdelacour-blog-blog

"I’m good at making excuses,” Max admitted meekly with a nonchalant shrug. He could be rather weak in resolve when he didn’t give a decision his everything and this was one of those decisions. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but he wasn’t sure what it was that he did want, and that made it complicated. “I don’t ‘ave to, you’re right.” But I don’t really have many friends, he wanted to say, but that just sounded really pathetic, so he decided against it. “It’s just been my plan for awhile now.” Considering her offer, he acquiesced. “Alright, you ‘ave yourself a deal. We both ‘ave to go after what we want and, well, if it doesn’t work out, we make a team. What would be its name?”

“Well, I’m good at bypassing excuses.” Maeve smiled, winking at him in what was probably a poor attempt to boost his confidence. “Well, if we’re going to run a Quidditch team together I’m gonna need you to stick around. France is a long way to travel to and from, even by Flu Powder.” She was kidding ofcourse, just trying to lighten the mood. She really had no say in whether he went home or stayed, but she was a big believer in doing what made you happy and that was what she was trying to encourage. “Oh gosh, a name.... well obviously it would have to be some really corny play on the fact we’re all short arses.” She laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear as it fell in her face. “Mighty Midgets?” She added, half kidding.

#;c:maxdelacour1

“Bey and Jay, like, squared.” Lance readjusted his bag straps digging into his shoulders, “yeah, yeah, she will. Listen, boo, I got class in, like, five, but I’ll see you later?” He leaned down, directing a peck to Maeve’s cheek. “Mad talk, mad talk.”

Maeve blushed, again. “Yuh - right, me too. I’l see you around!”

#;c:lanceahn1 #/end

kiranskhan-blog

“Caius Crouch breaks birds’ wings and throws them off the roof to see if they can fly… so, considering I’m not a psychopath, and the only thing you can hold against me is the number of girls I get with, I’d say that’s a pretty bad choice, Maeve.”

“Aw, have I hurt your feelings? Not used to girls turning you down, are you?”

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