Pyromania

"So, Mr. Finnigan, it appears you are my slave once again."

"Yer right there, Filchy my mate," replied the Irish fifth year. "You should be used to my being here again at this point."

"Ruddy boy… Tonight you're scrubbing all the cauldrons in the potions classroom, per the request of Professor Snape."

"Sounds like a joyful time, dunnit mate?" Seamus addressed the other fifth year beside him.

"You just had to pull me into your explosive tendencies," Dean Thomas grumbled. "The one time I go along with you…"

"You really should know better at this point," Seamus grinned at his best friend.

"Just get cleaning and try not to blow a hole in the ceiling. Wands." Filch held his hand out for the boys' wands. "Can't have you blowing anything up with these. Knowing Mr. Finnigan…"

Dean grudgingly handed over his wand, while Seamus continued teasing Filch with his. "Now, Filchy, are you sure about that? I just learned a great new cleaning spell."

Filch snatched the wand from his hand. "I believe that we should avoid whatever disaster comes of that," he said with a scowl. "You will finish this work and then you will return to your dormitory. I will be checking in and inspecting. Expect to come back tomorrow if every cauldron isn't spotless."

"Yeah yeah, we know," said Seamus, fiddling with a book of matches in his pocket. "And every day after that."

With another scowl at the two, he threw cleaning rags at both and walked out with his distinctive gait. Once he was out of the classroom, Dean smacked Seamus upside the head.

"Oi!" he exclaimed. "What was that for?"

"You just had to blow up a WHOLE BOX of Filibuster's Fireworks in the middle of the entrance hall IN FRONT OF FILCH!" Dean shouted, completely exasperated. Seamus looked at his feet with a smirk.

"Yeah, we really should have picked a better location," he claimed. Then, to Dean's dismay, Seamus lit a match and dropped it into the dirty cauldron in front of him. The contents promptly caught fire. Seamus grinned at it.

"Or, we could have done so outdoors," Dean grumbled, picking up his cloth and bucket. He then began to scrub. "Start cleaning or we'll be here all night, pyro."

"I know what I'm doing, Dean," Seamus claimed. "First you burn away the contents, then you wipe away the ash… shit…" The fire had burned out and Seamus was leaning inside.

"What did you do this time?" Dean asked his pyro best friend, pausing in his scrubbing.

"Well… I may have miscalculated…"

"At least whatever you did didn't blow up," grumbled Dean. Seamus threw a wet rag at him. "I'm not kidding! But what did you do this time exactly?"

"Well, I may have just burned the contents of this cauldron to be charred to the inner sides of the cauldron…"

Dean got up and walked over, sticking his head over the cauldron as well. "You, mate, are incredibly stupid."

"My plan was sound!"

"You had no idea the contents of this cauldron before you lit it on fire."

"I thought it would be the easiest way to clean away this first year grime!"

"You are competent enough in potions to know that we never put direct heat on unknown potions. Are you or are you not an OWL student?"

"You're just mad that you helped me carry in the box of fireworks!"

"My own mistake. Had I known what was in the box, or that you had a muggle LIGHTER in your pocket, I would never have agreed."

"But you love fireworks!"

"You pyromaniac, you're the one who loves anything to do with explosions or flames."

"Well… you… you… you like Ginny Weasley!"

"Your point? See, my liking Ginny has never caused potion to be charred to the side of a cauldron."

"Erm… alright, you have a point. I may have screwed up royally here… But hey! At least it looks like it's clean!"

Dean smacked his palm to his face. "You have to clean it still, Seamus."

"Damn." The grin that had taken over Seamus' face at the sight of fire dissolved. "I hate when Filch assigns cleaning jobs." He lit another match.

"Oh hell no," Dean said with exasperation, taking the match and blowing it out. He then held out his hand. "Give me the matchbook."

Seamus shook his head vigorously from side to side. Dean glared. "But… my matches…"

"I'll give them back," said Dean. Seamus grudgingly handed them over. Dean smirked, then dropped them into his bucket of cleaning water.

"You… you just… DEAN!" Seamus said, surprised.

"I never said they wouldn't be drenched beyond proper use," Dean told his friend, who was now plunging his hand into the water to grab his sinking matches. "Now get to work so we can get back to the Quidditch party quickly."

Nodding dejectedly, Seamus began to scrub the abused cauldron. "My matches…" he grumbled under his breath. "And that was my last book…"

Dean let out a breath of air. "How did I get myself involved with this pyromaniac?" he thought to himself.

"I didn't ask to love flames, Dean," Seamus said into the dim room. The sound of scrubbing could be heard throughout the room.

"I know, Shay," Dean sighed. "Just try to get it under control?"

"I promise you that I will not intentionally blow anything up again, unless it is a direct order from a higher up."

"Higher up?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I mean a prefect or a professor, dimwit," Seamus snapped. Dean laughed.

"I'm the dimwit says the one who lit his cauldron aflame to clean it?"

"Shut up."

"Stop yer yammering," came a bark from the doorway. The boys gulped, though they were cleaning as they were supposed to be.

"Sorry Filch," said Dean. Seamus plastered a grin on his face.

"But Filchy, we were just talking about you and what a wonderful job you do around the castle, keeping it clean and such."

"Yeah yeah, get working Finnigan."

"Yes, sir!"

"Is that a matchbook in the bottom of your bucket, boy?"

"No, sir," Dean said, angling his body to hide the bucket's contents. "That would just be quirky. Who carries around a matchbook anyway? Far too quirky, if you ask me. Nothing quirky here, nothing at all…"

Filch grumbled but luckily dropped it. "Get to work." He missed Seamus hitting Dean upside the head, mouthing "I am not quirky!"