Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Fatalities of War (Seamus Finnigan)

But before I begin I'm going to have a little rant so which I'd like you all to read, if that's alright. Requests are currently closed which means I won't be taking requests but this isn't what I wanted to rant about. My rant is about the requests that ask for a 'depressed' reader who suddenly miraculously is better after her love interest starts dating her. That isn't how depression works! As a psychology student it ruffles my feathers when people think depression is 'emo' or that it's being angry towards everything. Depression is a mental illness which can seriously interfere with someone's ability to function in their day to day lives, it isn't a 'quirk' or a way to appear 'cute' to a guy and appeal to his 'protective instincts' or any other load of crap. It certainly doesn't clear up when a guy starts taking interest in you; it doesn't work like that.

The same goes for eating disorders. I've had requests for readers who are bulimic or anorexic and suddenly because a guy tells them to stop, they just do. Again, it doesn't work like that. These sorts of portrayals are majorly damaging and I refuse to be an author that makes light of these serious issues. There are certain issues that simply cannot be tackled well in the space of a one shot and as these issues are extremely triggering, I will never write about them.

This was requested by Nyriamis - your request was kind of different to write but it was different in a good way. I tried to include as many of the things you wanted as possible, so make sure to tell me what you think once you've read it

Anyway, my lovely fawns, sorry for the little rant. You may now go on to read about our favourite Irishman ~

It was an unusually hot June day and, as I walked my dog down the street the sweltering sun was beginning to make me sweat. I made a face at the uncomfortable clammy feeling, almost wishing that we could get our usual mix of rain and cold weather. But then I remembered just how bad the weather could get and I was quick to change my mind.

Charlie must have somehow picked up on the drifting of my thoughts as the usually calm Great Dane took off in a sprint, making me struggle to keep up with him. I was supposed to be the one walking him and yet it seemed like he was the one walking me.

"Charlie," I protested, pulling on the leash, trying to get him to heel. But it was pointless. "Stop it."

The stubborn dog didn't listen to a word I said and continued to chase after whatever it was that had caught his attention. If it was another squirrel -

But it wasn't. Charlie stopped finally, picking up a newspaper with his mouth and holding it out to me. I took it from him, reaching out to affectionately rub the top of his head.

"Goodness Charlie," I said with a small smile, crouching down beside him and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "You really are an old man; wanting the newspaper. Speaking of the newspaper -"

I trailed off, doubting my eyes. The picture on the front of the paper was moving. Pictures didn't do that, certainly not the ones on newspaper. And for that matter, what kind of newspaper was called the Daily Prophet and why was it printed on yellowing paper. Especially when the date at the top of the paper placed it being published less than a week ago?

Charlie, growing impatient, began to nudge me. I hushed him, rubbing a hand over his back as I began to read the article at the front of the paper with furrowed brows. Who and what was a Volde -

The paper was ripped from my hand suddenly and I recoiled slightly from the force of the action. Looking up at the boy standing in front of me, I raised an eyebrow. Charlie began to growl threateningly, moving defensively to stand in front of me. Patting him reassuringly, I rose to my feet but still kept Charlie in between me and the boy who was busy glaring at me.