Hogwarts Oneshots

Seamus X OC

Being a special sort of witch came with its advantages, being able to understand every language on the planet, or off it for that matter, had many a time benefited me when abroad or eavesdropping. Of course, it also came with its disadvantages, but they were few and far between and, therefore, I paid little attention to them. Never had I ever wanted to be able to wish my powers away.

However, if I hadn't been able to understand him, maybe I wouldn't have been ignoring him for the past six months. If I hadn't been able so mad, maybe I'd have been able to explain my anger to him, explain that phrases like "stupid slut" have that effect on people. They especially have that effect when muttered under one's breath in irritation at one's lousy quidditch mistake, one tiny slip up when sewing up the sleeve of his jersey back together. The jersey that he had ripped. Granted, that slip up was followed by a heated argument about the integrity of Harry Potter.

If I was to write a list of things I hated, he would be situated right at the top - right next to heights and Marcus Flint. I'd quite happily watch that list burn in Hell.

*****

Finnegan and I had never been known to get along. From the moment he pushed me into the snow when we were three, he had become my nemesis. And yet, I spent most of my time away from Draco with him and Dean - and Ginny during their hectic relationship.

My relationship with Seamus was built on mocking each other but also an underlying anger on his part that caused an overlying irritation on mine. However, we'd got along well enough, we'd got through the war and returned the following year for my seventh year and his eighth... That was when everything had gone wrong. He'd changed, I suppose we all had, but Seamus was more protective, more possessive of everyone, especially me - I always assumed it was an after-effect of the war, a way to make sure I was okay, after all, everyone saw him as my 'big brother 'friend''.

I'd been discussing things with Draco, the day after our final NEWT exam in the last days of June, when he'd stormed over and Salazar, it gave me a heart attack. The anger on his face made me quiver as I looked up at the older boy who was fuming above me as I lay next to the lake with my best friend who'd been consulting me on Ron Weasley's existence. Upon Seamus' approach, Draco had gone quiet, nodding in his direction to alert me to his presence.

Seamus glared down at us, specifically Draco, "Have you done my top?"

"Sorry, I haven't had time, but I'm really busy here, Seamus. I can do it tonight if you'd like?" I'd tried to sound calm and gentle, maternal almost but he was interrupting an important conversation with his irrational Irish irritation and I didn't have the time for him.

"First Potter, now Malfoy? Not got any time for me anymore, Reve?" that was when his glare shifted to me, and only me.

"It's hardly a betrayal, Finnegan. You don't even like me, I'm the slimey snake, remember?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"Not as slimey as that!" his reference to Draco using 'that' pushed me just a little closer to the edge than his anger at my inability to fix his jersey instantly.

"Why do you care suddenly, Dean gone back to Ginny?" I held his gaze as I stood up.

Sighing  and standing up, Draco spoke in a monotone voice as he brushed himself off, "Jealous, Finnegan? Surely you don't have feelings you're hiding." The two men shared a look at that moment and I choose not to question it or the anger that was thinly veiled in Seamus' eyes.

"I'll have it done by tonight, Seamus." I smiled at him in some vague hope to ease the tension.

"Right, aye, whatever." he nodded and turned to walk away, uttering those fateful words, "Slut dúr"

So I hadn't fixed his jersey, I'd owled it to him with a carefully written note reading "Tuigim tusa" (I understand you). That was decisively the last I would hear of Seamus Finnegan unless, by some tragedy, I was forced to run into him again. I was more than happy to walk out of his life and away from Hogwarts forever.

*****

Six months is a long time without someone you've become accustomed to always being around, especially when you're living in a new city, surrounded by new people, in muggle Dublin. In hindsight, it would have been a better idea to have brought the friendly family dog with me - rather than the easily angered tabby that hasn't appreciated my existence since I started insisting on stroking him. Additionally, if it hadn't been for my cousin's wedding to a head-over-heels Charlie Weasley, I'm not sure I would have had any plans for December other than returning home for Christmas.

Unfortunately, the two lovebirds had their affection filled hearts set on a winter wedding which was how I ended up chilled to the bone and traipsing through the North of the Republic of Ireland to find an obscure hotel surrounded by snow and a horrific feeling of love. If love was an air born disease, I would have been long gone and quite happily gone too. The idea of spending this much time at a wedding of all places when my heart had been shredded mere months ago was not my idea of fun.

Credit where credit's due, Seamus hadn't known he had the same effect on my heart that a cheese grater has on a particularly immature chunk of cheddar, in that it kind of just crumbles before you know what's happening. On the other hand, even more credit to myself for hiding this by resolving the issue the only way I knew how: by avoiding him for the past six months, and if I had my way, the remainder of my life which, as I looked at the adoring couple, I realised would be a bleak and at this rate short rest of an essentially meaningless existence.

Isabelle had tried to persuade me that the wedding would be a good way to heal, I'm sure by this point you'll have realised it wasn't. It felt a bit like someone suggesting I put sugar in a wound to help it heal - a genuinely sensible idea if there are no other options. Except they don't give me sugar, they give me rock salt and they rub it into the wound with vigor and enthusiasm, using a specially sharpened dagger to apply it. To make the entire situation worse, the 'sugar' wasn't even the only option, they've clearly got some anti-septic cream and a bandage in their bag... They just wish to see me suffer.

As much as I'm sure my cousin did not wish to see me suffer, by the end of the evening I was all but ready to strangle her for inviting me to such a hideous parade of displays of affection. I was ready to collapse back into my bubble of self-pity and fatigue and fearing the next day in which my elder cousin would become a Weasley. Perhaps fearing isn't the right word, dreading would be far more appropriate.

Whatever I was expecting from the wedding, it wasn't to have a song dedicated to me and, moreover, I didn't expect him to think Fairytale of New York was an appropriate song for a wedding, let alone an apology.