AUTHOR: Elizabeth
TITLE: The Gods must be Crazy
RATING: R...eventually
DISCLAIMER: Last I checked, no-one was calling me J.K. Rowling. So...I'm not her. I'm just a bad-mannered person who takes her possessions without asking, and hopes she won't be sued into next week.
NOTES: I've been reading a few really cute stories where Harry and Seamus hook up. Sadly, there aren't too many of these stories. I'm doing my bit to push the ship. 'Cause it's cute.
NOTES 2: This is slash. Not so evident in this chapter, but I figure I should warn you, in case that ain't what you wanna read.
SUMMARY: A convenient case of Festering flu brings Harry and Seamus together. But what happens next?
FEEDBACK: If you could spare the time, it'd be really appreciated. Comments, constructive criticism...all very welcome.
****************************************
It wasn't supposed to be him. Harry was pretty definite about that...in a hazy sort of way.
It should have been someone else. _Anyone _ else would have made more sense...except possibly Crabbe or Goyle. Harry felt his stomach flop over protestingly at the thought.
Ron. The sensible gods who dictated the laws of probability had doubtless pointed Ron out as The One To Watch. After all, they _were _ best friends, and the triwizard tournament proved just how strongly Harry felt about the red-head.
The gods who enjoyed a sporting flutter had probably pinned everything on dark horse Draco Malfoy. Maybe mumbling something about love, hate and the fine line in between as they did so.
Harry was fairly sure that said gods were now muttering angrily and demanding their money back. Because...because - well.
Seamus Finnegan. Who'd have seen _that _ one coming? Seamus, who had a quick smile that quirked his entire face into brightness, and whose extravagant turns of phrase almost made Harry embarrassed _for _ him.
Seamus, who was Irish and best friends with Dean Thomas, and who Harry vaguely remembered meeting at the Quidditch World Cup...those were the things Harry would have associated with Seamus in the past, because Harry didn't actually know Seamus that well. He was just...part of the Gryffindor décor. Someone to call out pleasantries to across a classroom, someone to waste five minutes with if Ron was late, just another someone who would congratulate Harry after a Quidditch victory.
Until now. Now...the gods in charge of Harry Potter were probably mutinying...because suddenly, five minutes didn't even begin to cover the situation.
*******************************
It had been entirely a matter of chance. No eyes meeting across a crowded classroom for them, no shy stares over a cauldron of simmering bobutuber pus.
No. It had started with a chance outbreak of Festering flu. Most of the school had come down with it, and the hallways were depleting daily. When Ron had started rubbing his eyes and complaining about various aches, pains and unexplained swellings, Hermione had promptly packed him off to the infirmary, despite his protests.
"Hermione! Honestly, I'm FINE! Honestly! You're such a...it's probably just tiredness."
"Ron! This is _serious _. Madam Pomfrey wants anyone with ANY symptoms - no matter how mild - to go to the infirmary for treatment."
"But that means two weeks quarantine!" Ron wailed. "I wouldn't mind if I was just missing classes, but it's the _weekend _ and Harry and I were going to" -
"I don't care what you were going to do in Hogsmeade," Hermione said firmly. "You're going to Madam Pomfrey. Right NOW."
Hermione had practically dragged Ron down to the infirmary, where Ron had been forced into a bed, and (much to her disbelief), so was Hermione.
"But...but, I'm not sick!"
"You look absolutely ghastly, girl. Your eyes! And you seem absolutely exhausted."
"That's probably from being in the library so much. After a good night's sleep, I'll be fine!" Hermione had protested feebly.
"Nonsense! In to bed! You're not leaving here until I can give you a clean bill of health. That will be in two weeks time."
"But - I have so much studying to do! What about my work?!"
"I don't want to hear you mention work or books for two weeks. Then, we'll see."
So, despite her objections, Hermione was forced into a bed, and made endure Ron's smug looks.
*********************
And Harry? Turned out that the Boy who Lived was also the Boy who was Astonishingly Resistant to Festering Flu. It just wasn't as catchy a title.
Seamus turned out to be just as hardy, though he cheerfully wrote it off as 'The luck of the Irish' when he met up with Harry.
"So, looks like we're the only two warriors left for the side, huh?"
"Um. I guess," Harry had said, glancing around at the nearly empty common room.
"Going to Potions?" Seamus had enquired offhandedly. Without stopping for an answer, he barrelled ahead. "Well, what are we waiting for? Snape to take a passing interest in hygiene? Onwards, brave warrior."
And onwards they had gone. Harry was relieved actually. It was good to have someone to knock about with, even if that someone wasn't Ron. The alternative was spending time with Parvati and Lavender, who were the only other Gryffindors unaffected. And Harry had never been comfortable with Parvati after the Triwizard ball. From the slight frowns she occasionally threw his way, he was guessing that she felt the same.
And Seamus was fun, which Harry had plenty of time to discover, as the few teachers unaffected by the outbreak bent normal class rules completely out of shape. Except for Professor Snape, of course. And Professor Binns, whose acquaintance with real life could only be deemed to be a passing one.
But Hagrid (who would probably be unaffected by anything other than a small plague) and surprisingly, Professor McGonagall, allowed them almost complete freedom in their classes. Though perhaps the Professor's leniency had more to do with the her slightly red-rimmed eyes than any softer feelings towards the six people left in her lectures.
So Harry had a lot of time in which to find out that Seamus was fun, easy to be with, and - while not lacking in confidence - feeling just as thrown off balance as Harry was by not having his best friend. Harry could have sworn he heard Seamus addressing empty air a couple of times, turning around and starting - because there was no-one there. Harry had wondered idly, if Seamus actually understood the concept of 'private thoughts'.
He got his chance to find out, when Seamus had latched onto him. And, once he got used to the constant chatter, it was almost enjoyable.
Which was why, when a lovesick Hufflepuff sneaked in to the sick ward towards the end of the second week, and re-infected the patients (ironically, she was beginning a case of flu), Harry was disappointed, but resigned. He began to find Seamus' talk reassuring, and learned to blank out the actual words and drift away on the rhythm, which was maybe a result of Seamus being Irish, or maybe just of Seamus being Seamus.
**************************
"...did you get?"
"Hmmm?" Harry asked, getting up from the Gryffindor table, which looked slightly ridiculous, with only four people scattered around it.
"Never mind," Seamus sighed theatrically.
"Okay." Harry pushed his chair in, and waited for the inevitable.
"Really. It doesn't matter. It wasn't important. Which you'd know. If you had been listening, that is."
"I'll take your word for it," Harry replied, smirking.
Seamus rolled his eyes, and motioned to Parvati, who was walking to the door, deep in conversation with Lavender.
"I _was _ asking how far you two got."
"How far we got?" Harry asked in confusion.
"Yes. I was wondering if you two ever strolled into Hogsmeade together of a Saturday," Seamus heaved a pitying sigh. "How *far * *you * *got *? As in - you took her to the ball...what dirty little secrets have you got on each other? Does she", Seamus grinned unashamedly, " ...dye her hair?"
"How would I..." Harry trailed off as the meaning behind Seamus' words hit him, and with a loaded glare behind him, he marched up to the common room, Seamus' muffled snorts of laughter following behind him.
******************************
"So...how far *did * you get?" Seamus repeated unabashedly as soon as they reached the deserted common room
.
"C'mon, tell me! Tellmetellmetellmetellme. I promise I won't laugh", he wheedled, the spark in his eye, and the twitch of his lips disproving _that _ .
Harry slumped against the headrest of his armchair. Seamus looked hopefully at him. He stared back.
Seamus opened his mouth to begin a new attack. Harry cut him off with the announcement. "I didn't. Get anywhere, that is."
"That's no fun!" Seamus exclaimed in disappointment. "I wanted a story of passion, intrigue and betrayal! I expected nothing less from you, Harry. You've disappointed me."
Harry stared at him in bemusement as he continued.
"I mean, I was all fired up to hear about how you whipped up a handy little potion to convince her to go with you, how it wore off at the ball - by which time you'd realised your true feelings for one another, only to be torn apart by jealousy as she danced with...I don't know, Viktor Krum, maybe."
"Krum went with Hermione. He was crazy about her. I think they still owl each other sometimes," Harry interrupted.
"Yeah, but you have to admit, my version was more interesting."
Harry stared at him in disbelief. "I went with Parvati because I didn't want to go alone, and...and the person I wanted to go with...um, she went with someone else." He faltered, then continued more forcefully, "Anyway, what about you and Lavender? How, um...how far did *you * get?"
"I don't know if I should corrupt your innocence," Seamus said thoughtfully. Harry made a face, hooked his foot under Seamus' knee and sharply tugged him off his chair.
"Honestly Harry! Resorting to physical violence? I'd have expected better from you," Seamus tsked loftily, while grabbing a handful of Harry's robes and pulling.
"Hmmpht," Harry exclaimed, hitting the floor.
"I mean - that's the sort of thing I'd expect of me."
TITLE: The Gods must be Crazy
RATING: R...eventually
DISCLAIMER: Last I checked, no-one was calling me J.K. Rowling. So...I'm not her. I'm just a bad-mannered person who takes her possessions without asking, and hopes she won't be sued into next week.
NOTES: I've been reading a few really cute stories where Harry and Seamus hook up. Sadly, there aren't too many of these stories. I'm doing my bit to push the ship. 'Cause it's cute.
NOTES 2: This is slash. Not so evident in this chapter, but I figure I should warn you, in case that ain't what you wanna read.
SUMMARY: A convenient case of Festering flu brings Harry and Seamus together. But what happens next?
FEEDBACK: If you could spare the time, it'd be really appreciated. Comments, constructive criticism...all very welcome.
****************************************
It wasn't supposed to be him. Harry was pretty definite about that...in a hazy sort of way.
It should have been someone else. _Anyone _ else would have made more sense...except possibly Crabbe or Goyle. Harry felt his stomach flop over protestingly at the thought.
Ron. The sensible gods who dictated the laws of probability had doubtless pointed Ron out as The One To Watch. After all, they _were _ best friends, and the triwizard tournament proved just how strongly Harry felt about the red-head.
The gods who enjoyed a sporting flutter had probably pinned everything on dark horse Draco Malfoy. Maybe mumbling something about love, hate and the fine line in between as they did so.
Harry was fairly sure that said gods were now muttering angrily and demanding their money back. Because...because - well.
Seamus Finnegan. Who'd have seen _that _ one coming? Seamus, who had a quick smile that quirked his entire face into brightness, and whose extravagant turns of phrase almost made Harry embarrassed _for _ him.
Seamus, who was Irish and best friends with Dean Thomas, and who Harry vaguely remembered meeting at the Quidditch World Cup...those were the things Harry would have associated with Seamus in the past, because Harry didn't actually know Seamus that well. He was just...part of the Gryffindor décor. Someone to call out pleasantries to across a classroom, someone to waste five minutes with if Ron was late, just another someone who would congratulate Harry after a Quidditch victory.
Until now. Now...the gods in charge of Harry Potter were probably mutinying...because suddenly, five minutes didn't even begin to cover the situation.
*******************************
It had been entirely a matter of chance. No eyes meeting across a crowded classroom for them, no shy stares over a cauldron of simmering bobutuber pus.
No. It had started with a chance outbreak of Festering flu. Most of the school had come down with it, and the hallways were depleting daily. When Ron had started rubbing his eyes and complaining about various aches, pains and unexplained swellings, Hermione had promptly packed him off to the infirmary, despite his protests.
"Hermione! Honestly, I'm FINE! Honestly! You're such a...it's probably just tiredness."
"Ron! This is _serious _. Madam Pomfrey wants anyone with ANY symptoms - no matter how mild - to go to the infirmary for treatment."
"But that means two weeks quarantine!" Ron wailed. "I wouldn't mind if I was just missing classes, but it's the _weekend _ and Harry and I were going to" -
"I don't care what you were going to do in Hogsmeade," Hermione said firmly. "You're going to Madam Pomfrey. Right NOW."
Hermione had practically dragged Ron down to the infirmary, where Ron had been forced into a bed, and (much to her disbelief), so was Hermione.
"But...but, I'm not sick!"
"You look absolutely ghastly, girl. Your eyes! And you seem absolutely exhausted."
"That's probably from being in the library so much. After a good night's sleep, I'll be fine!" Hermione had protested feebly.
"Nonsense! In to bed! You're not leaving here until I can give you a clean bill of health. That will be in two weeks time."
"But - I have so much studying to do! What about my work?!"
"I don't want to hear you mention work or books for two weeks. Then, we'll see."
So, despite her objections, Hermione was forced into a bed, and made endure Ron's smug looks.
*********************
And Harry? Turned out that the Boy who Lived was also the Boy who was Astonishingly Resistant to Festering Flu. It just wasn't as catchy a title.
Seamus turned out to be just as hardy, though he cheerfully wrote it off as 'The luck of the Irish' when he met up with Harry.
"So, looks like we're the only two warriors left for the side, huh?"
"Um. I guess," Harry had said, glancing around at the nearly empty common room.
"Going to Potions?" Seamus had enquired offhandedly. Without stopping for an answer, he barrelled ahead. "Well, what are we waiting for? Snape to take a passing interest in hygiene? Onwards, brave warrior."
And onwards they had gone. Harry was relieved actually. It was good to have someone to knock about with, even if that someone wasn't Ron. The alternative was spending time with Parvati and Lavender, who were the only other Gryffindors unaffected. And Harry had never been comfortable with Parvati after the Triwizard ball. From the slight frowns she occasionally threw his way, he was guessing that she felt the same.
And Seamus was fun, which Harry had plenty of time to discover, as the few teachers unaffected by the outbreak bent normal class rules completely out of shape. Except for Professor Snape, of course. And Professor Binns, whose acquaintance with real life could only be deemed to be a passing one.
But Hagrid (who would probably be unaffected by anything other than a small plague) and surprisingly, Professor McGonagall, allowed them almost complete freedom in their classes. Though perhaps the Professor's leniency had more to do with the her slightly red-rimmed eyes than any softer feelings towards the six people left in her lectures.
So Harry had a lot of time in which to find out that Seamus was fun, easy to be with, and - while not lacking in confidence - feeling just as thrown off balance as Harry was by not having his best friend. Harry could have sworn he heard Seamus addressing empty air a couple of times, turning around and starting - because there was no-one there. Harry had wondered idly, if Seamus actually understood the concept of 'private thoughts'.
He got his chance to find out, when Seamus had latched onto him. And, once he got used to the constant chatter, it was almost enjoyable.
Which was why, when a lovesick Hufflepuff sneaked in to the sick ward towards the end of the second week, and re-infected the patients (ironically, she was beginning a case of flu), Harry was disappointed, but resigned. He began to find Seamus' talk reassuring, and learned to blank out the actual words and drift away on the rhythm, which was maybe a result of Seamus being Irish, or maybe just of Seamus being Seamus.
**************************
"...did you get?"
"Hmmm?" Harry asked, getting up from the Gryffindor table, which looked slightly ridiculous, with only four people scattered around it.
"Never mind," Seamus sighed theatrically.
"Okay." Harry pushed his chair in, and waited for the inevitable.
"Really. It doesn't matter. It wasn't important. Which you'd know. If you had been listening, that is."
"I'll take your word for it," Harry replied, smirking.
Seamus rolled his eyes, and motioned to Parvati, who was walking to the door, deep in conversation with Lavender.
"I _was _ asking how far you two got."
"How far we got?" Harry asked in confusion.
"Yes. I was wondering if you two ever strolled into Hogsmeade together of a Saturday," Seamus heaved a pitying sigh. "How *far * *you * *got *? As in - you took her to the ball...what dirty little secrets have you got on each other? Does she", Seamus grinned unashamedly, " ...dye her hair?"
"How would I..." Harry trailed off as the meaning behind Seamus' words hit him, and with a loaded glare behind him, he marched up to the common room, Seamus' muffled snorts of laughter following behind him.
******************************
"So...how far *did * you get?" Seamus repeated unabashedly as soon as they reached the deserted common room
.
"C'mon, tell me! Tellmetellmetellmetellme. I promise I won't laugh", he wheedled, the spark in his eye, and the twitch of his lips disproving _that _ .
Harry slumped against the headrest of his armchair. Seamus looked hopefully at him. He stared back.
Seamus opened his mouth to begin a new attack. Harry cut him off with the announcement. "I didn't. Get anywhere, that is."
"That's no fun!" Seamus exclaimed in disappointment. "I wanted a story of passion, intrigue and betrayal! I expected nothing less from you, Harry. You've disappointed me."
Harry stared at him in bemusement as he continued.
"I mean, I was all fired up to hear about how you whipped up a handy little potion to convince her to go with you, how it wore off at the ball - by which time you'd realised your true feelings for one another, only to be torn apart by jealousy as she danced with...I don't know, Viktor Krum, maybe."
"Krum went with Hermione. He was crazy about her. I think they still owl each other sometimes," Harry interrupted.
"Yeah, but you have to admit, my version was more interesting."
Harry stared at him in disbelief. "I went with Parvati because I didn't want to go alone, and...and the person I wanted to go with...um, she went with someone else." He faltered, then continued more forcefully, "Anyway, what about you and Lavender? How, um...how far did *you * get?"
"I don't know if I should corrupt your innocence," Seamus said thoughtfully. Harry made a face, hooked his foot under Seamus' knee and sharply tugged him off his chair.
"Honestly Harry! Resorting to physical violence? I'd have expected better from you," Seamus tsked loftily, while grabbing a handful of Harry's robes and pulling.
"Hmmpht," Harry exclaimed, hitting the floor.
"I mean - that's the sort of thing I'd expect of me."