Special thanks to Red (TheNextFolchart) for her amazing beta skills and encouragement!
Her office was dark, illuminated only by a few torches and the moonlight.
"Mr. Finnigan," Umbridge smiled, fake and revolting, and I smiled back. "Please, have a seat." Her hands motioned to a large pink armchair, and then fluttered back to a teapot. I grimaced, but sat anyway. Goyle glared at me from behind her desk, arms crossed as he menacingly chomped on an apple. A piece of the red skin was caught between his front teeth.
Umbridge turned back to me and clucked her tongue. "Now, now, dear. No need to look so anxious," she crooned, even though I knew I didn't look anxious. I made a show of loosening my shoulders and smiling at her. "That's better. I only want to have a talk with you," and her voice was sickeningly sweet. "Here, sweetie, have some tea."
She held out a white, china teacup covered in kittens chasing balls of yarn, and a matching saucer. I smothered a scowl. It was hideous by anyone's standards.
She watched me with those eagle eyes and waited for me to drink. I knew what was in the tea, but I had a plan. My Muggle grandfather's watch was strapped to my wrist, and I shoved back my worry as I sipped the tea.
It was too sweet, but I supposed she'd never tasted Veritaserum, so she wouldn't know. I'd be inclined to forgive the mistake if she hadn't put Veritaserum in my tea.
She smiled and sat in an overly large, fluffy armchair behind her desk. It swallowed her. She looked ridiculous. "Now, Mr. Finnigan, do you know why you were called -"
"Mr. Finnigan reminds me of my dad," I blurted. She blinked, obviously taken aback.
"Would you rather I called you Seamus?"
"Absolutely not," I replied, and she smiled.
"Alright, Mr. Finnigan, do you know why you were called here to-"
"You want to make sure none of us are loyal to Voldemort," I answered quickly, and both Goyle and Umbridge jerked back as if I had thrown my tea at them.
"Ahem. - No, that's not really my place, dear, I -"
"Because I'm not," I told her, though she hadn't asked.
Her expression hardened. "Good to know," she hissed, reminding me of Harry in his sleep. I wondered if she spoke parseltongue, too, and then almost laughed aloud.
"Mr. Finnigan, I need to know where you -"
"I'm totally on the straight and narrow," I assured her. "No-Nosed Voldy and I aren't buddies."
Goyle stepped forward angrily. "Voldy - er, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wouldn't be buddies with you anyway! You're a half-blood!" he shouted. I leaned forward, beckoning for him to do the same.
"That's what he wants you to think," I whispered loudly. Umbridge gasped, looking scandalized, and Goyle furrowed his brow in intense concentration like I had caused him an existential crisis. I probably had. I grinned and leaned back on the chair that smelled vaguely of vomit, and I wondered who she had made throw up. It would be a good technique to avoid the serum, but this was way more fun.
Oh, what I wouldn't have given to see Umbridge's face when the student threw up on her chair.
Umbridge sniffed and folded her hands across her lap. "Mr. Finnigan, you are going to tell me -"
"What were we talking about?" I asked, crossing my legs and putting my hands on my lap in imitation of her. She frowned.
"The secret me -"
"Oh! Right! I was telling you how I'm on the straight and narrow!"
"Yes," she snapped, her lip curling. "We've established that." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, and when she opened her eyes, she had that weird smile plastered to her face. "Mr. Finnigan -"
"Well, I say straight...Ha. I'm not narrow, either, but Dean Thomas -" I grinned at her, fiddling with the watch in my lap. "He's very narrow. Mmm, those hip bones. And I just wanna lick his abs -"
Goyle choked on his apple and I ignored him while Umbridge gaped at me. Goyle hit his own back, hard, and a chunk of apple flew across the room, unnoticed by Umbridge.
She recovered quickly and pressed her lips together tightly. "Mr. Finnigan, tell me what you know about secret meetings."
She hadn't phrased it as a question, and my insides were ecstatic. I just tilted my head. "I have no idea what you are talking about."
She blinked, clearly expecting a different answer. "You have never been to one of Ha -"
"What is it with you and the color pink?" I asked. She looked bewildered.
"Pink is a very feminine color, Mr. Finnigan," she answered slowly, as if she were teaching a child. "All girls like -"
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on her desk, and whispered loudly, "It's not your color, sister."
She frowned, pressing her lips together in a tight line for a long while before stretching them into a wild smile.
"Now, now, Mr. Finnigan. Boys should not treat girls like that," she scolded. I flopped back in my chair.
"How should boys treat girls then?" I asked, playing along.
"With politeness, and with honesty," she replied, her smile less tight. I frowned, copying Goyle's life-doubting expression.
"But I was being honest."
Her eyes narrowed a hair. "But you weren't polite, Mr. Finnigan."
I let my mouth drop open as if I had suddenly been hit by the force of her overwhelming wisdom. Gag.
"Now, Mr. Finnigan, perhaps we can return to our conversation. Where is Mr. Potter -"
"What about boys?" I asked with a smirk. "How do I treat boys? Because I don't give a -"
"Shut your ungodly, lopsided mouth and quit interrupting!" she screamed, her armchair teetering on its legs with the force of which she jumped up. She braced her hands on the desk and glowered down at me, panting steam through her nose.
We stayed like that for awhile, me gaping on the outside, victory-dancing on the inside; Goyle chewing thoughtfully, still debating whether or not Ol' Voldy truly liked half-bloods; and Umbridge seething.
"Leave," she finally spat, and I couldn't run fast enough. Nearing the common room, I slipped on a pile of ice undoubtedly left by Peeves and landed in the arms of a waiting Dean Thomas.
"Woah, buddy. Slow down," he grinned, his face all soft lines and shadows in the moonlight. "How did it go?" I flushed as he set me upright, my hand still clutched at the robes around his waist, remembering how highly I had praised those hipbones. I released him quickly. His look became worried. "Seamus, you didn't tell her, did you?"
"No! No, of course not!" I protested. "The plan was fool-proof! You should use it on your turn - though it does require a quick mind, and I'm afraid it just won't be possible for you, Mr. Thomas -"
He rolled his eyes and slugged me in the arm. "Come off it."
I grinned up at him. "Oh, and I kinda-sorta-maybe implied that I was in love with you and kinda gay, just so you are prepared."
He gaped at me, and I blushed. "Well, it worked!" I snapped, shoving his chin back where it belonged and stalking away.
"Love you too, Seamus!" he called in a sing-song voice, the words echoing off the walls.
"Piss off."
But I smiled.
Written for:
March Hare and 'apple,' the Disney Character Competition; Seamus and Goyle, the Character Challenge; "In the light of the full moon, I was surprised how well I could see her roll her eyes at me." -Rick Riordan, The Titan's Curse, Random Quotes Challenge; "Oriflamme (Latin/French) - a symbol or standard that inspires confidence, devotion, or courage," Interesting Words Challenge; Richard III: A character with a Machiavellian personality, Inspired-by-Shakespeare Challenge; "Shut your ungodly, lopsided mouth and quit interrupting," A Very Potter Musical Challenge.