Chapter Seven: Camden Town
10.47 pm
"I can't believe they wouldn't let us in! It's literally unbeliev- unbelievable!"
"I think your hat broke their dress code," sniggered Ron.
"It's St Pat's night!" exclaimed Seamus, "I've a good mind to complain – no, I've got a better idea... let's go back and throw something through their window!"
"Or we could just stay here," suggested Ron. "I dunno about you, but I wouldn't mind sitting in the same seat for more than half an hour for a change."
"We can't," said Seamus stubbornly. "We've still got three pubs to go."
"Seamus... give it up, mate. We've missed a stop. What's the point in carrying on now? Let's just have one more drink and go home."
Seamus slumped back in his seat and sighed, suddenly morose. "Maybe I'll just go round to Lavender's."
"Oh, God. Don't."
"I know, I know…"
"You can't, Shay."
"Why not? She made it quite clear that if I was ever in the area…"
"What? You should pop in for a quickie? 'Cos she doesn't get out much anymore and she'll probably be grateful?"
"No! Because... I dunno, stop having a go at me!"
"I'm not having a go," said Ron, gently. "I'm just saying, I think it's a really, really bad idea."
"Or maybe it's a really, really good idea..."
Ron shook his head. "No. It isn't. It's late, you're drunk... do you really think she's going to appreciate you turning up like this and trying to get your leg over?"
Seamus shrugged. "She might," he said stubbornly.
"She might, but not this late and not from someone who's off his face and thinks he might score. Come on, you're supposed to be her friend, aren't you? Don't do this."
"I'm not just going around there to try and... get my leg over," protested Seamus weakly, "I just thought, you know, since I'm in the area..."
"You're not in the area," Ron pointed out reasonably, "You were in the area about five hours ago, when we were still in the Leaky Cauldron, but now you're a very long way away from the area."
"I'm closer to the area than I would be if I was at my house."
"Yeah," conceded Ron dryly, "that's true. You are closer to the area of Lavender's flat than you would have been if there was a sea between you."
Seamus gave an exaggerated sigh and reached for his pint again. "Fine! I won't go 'round to Lavender's!"
"Good man," grinned Ron. "Right decision."
"Once a prefect, always a prefect," muttered Seamus grouchily. "Spoiling other people's fun…"
"Stopping you from making an idiot of yourself," corrected Ron. "You'll thank me tomorrow morning."
"What, when I wake up cold and hungover on your sofa instead of all warm and shagged out in Lavender's bed? I don't think so!"
"More likely she kicks you out for making a drunken pass at her and you have to sleep on a bench..."
"Ah, she wouldn't kick me out for that," said Seamus airily. "She'd just let me kip on her sofa."
"Well, either way, you'll be spending the night on someone's sofa."
"Yeah, but at least at hers I won't have to listen to you and Granger shagging." He gave a theatrical shudder. "The horror…"
Ron gave him a good-natured shove. "Listen, there won't be any shagging keeping you awake tonight, I can promise you. Soon as my head hits that pillow I'm gonna be dead to the world until my alarm clock goes off tomorrow morning."
Seamus chuckled. "Sucker! I'm not getting up 'til tomorrow afternoon if I can help it."
"Yeah, you are. If you think I'm leaving you alone in my flat all day, you're severely mistaken."
"What do you think I'm going to do?" protested Seamus, affecting outrage.
"I hate to think."
Seamus chuckled, and reached for his pint.
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"Who?"
"Lavender!"
Ron thought back. "Dunno. Not for ages. Sometime last summer, I think."
"Neville's birthday do last July?"
"Fuck, has it really been that long? That was almost a year ago! When was the last time you saw her?"
"Saturday."
"Mm," said Ron, distractedly. He remembered Lavender at that party, sitting on her own and staring blankly into space. As usual, she was wearing dark, full length robes with a scarf to hide the scars on her neck, and her hair grown into a long fringe to hide her face as much as possible. She kept her head bowed almost all the time, wouldn't meet anyone's eyes lest she see the shock and revulsion strangers often expressed at her appearance. If he hadn't had a rather tipsy and affectionate Hermione on his lap, he might have gone over to say hello, but then he got distracted, and Hermione had rather coyly suggested they go somewhere else and stuck her tongue in his ear, and he hadn't given Lavender a second's thought from then until now.
"You go 'round there a lot, then?" he asked aloud.
"Depends. Sometimes I don't go round for ages, sometimes I go round there loads in the space of a couple of days. Then she'll tell me she wants to be left alone and throw me out. When she has bad days she doesn't even answer the door." He sighed. "I dunno, it's complicated."
"And have you usually had a few drinks first?"
A shrug. "Sometimes. A few drinks in me and I usually start thinking about her. I mean, it's a waste, isn't it? She was always so full of life and proud of her body, and now she hardly ever goes out and when she does she covers herself up like she's ashamed or something. She shouldn't be covering herself up like that. She was the best-looking girl in school. Everyone fancied her, and she knew it, and she loved it. But she's lost all that confidence now. Now she isn't - now she thinks she isn't pretty anymore." He shook his head in disbelief. "I've tried to get her to come out with me loads of times -"
"Come out with you or go out with you?" asked Ron shrewdly.
"Come out. You know, just for a walk or something. Just to get some daylight. Try to show her that people aren't looking at her. Only -"
"They are?"
"Yeah. And it's horrible. I want to shout at them and tell them where to go, but I know she won't want me drawing even more attention to her. The furthest we've ever gone is to the end of the street to buy milk."
"Have you thought about Side-Alonging her to somewhere quiet where there's no people around? Somewhere in the country, maybe?"
A wry smile. "Yeah. I don't think she wants to be alone with me."
"Isn't she alone with you when you visit her flat, though?"
"Yeah, but that's different. She feels safe there. Me, I can't wait to leave the bloody place."
"How come?"
Seamus shook his head. "I've spent hours in that flat and I can't stand it. The curtains are drawn, the windows are shut, there's no air, no daylight... I can't breathe in that place. And I just want to get her out of there because it can't be doing her any good, it can't. I think when her parents bought her that flat they hoped it would let her be more independent, and it's close to Diagon Alley so everything's on her doorstep, but actually it just gives her a place to hide away from the world. She has the fucking telly on all the time too; it's like this constant stream of inane chatter in the background. I suppose it's for company, but she never turns it off. She's not even watching it half the time. And she reads those godawful magazines. You know the ones; 'Raped by my Dead Brother's Ghost', that kind of thing. She doesn't work, she doesn't go out... She gets food delivered so she never has to leave the house. I mean, we all try, we all go round there and try to cheer her up, get her outside –"
"We?"
"The DA. Me, Neville, Ernie, Susan, Terry... all of us who were at school in that last year when you lot were off saving the world."
Ron felt a stab of guilt pierce his chest. "Maybe I should go round there..."
"I wouldn't do that, mate."
"Why not?"
"You have to ask? There's a lot of unfinished business between you two. To be honest, the last thing she needs is you coming around talking about how happy you are with your new girlfriend and rubbing it in her face."
"I wouldn't do that!" protested Ron indignantly.
"Not on purpose, maybe, but it'd have the same effect. You're living with Hermione, you're happy, you're working... you've got on with your life. And meanwhile she's stuck in that flat and I don't think she can see any future for herself. I think she's just given up."
He took a long draught of his pint. "It's like, Christmas: I'd been out with a couple of friends a few days before Christmas and I remembered it was exactly six years since we went to the Yule Ball together. Six years since we had our first – well, only – date. And out first and only snog, too."
"Was she your first, then?" asked Ron, curiously.
"What, first kiss? No. And before you ask, I know I wasn't hers either. I'm not that naive."
Ron gave a rueful smile. "I was. That naive, I mean. And then she told me I was something like the sixth boy she'd kissed and I felt really stupid."
Seamus gave a mirthless laugh. "I think I was number three. See, that's why it's such a tragedy! She could always get any boy she wanted, and now she doesn't even try. It's like she thinks no-one will want her anymore!"
"So she doesn't leave the flat at all now?" asked Ron.
Seamus shook his head. "Not since Christmas. That was the last time I saw her outside of her flat, anyway. I took her for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron – well, forced her, really; she didn't want to come. We weren't there more than ten minutes before she wanted to leave again. She thought everyone was looking at her."
He sighed, and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Do you think I should cut my losses?"
Ron considered for a moment. "Nah," he said, decisively, "It's not like you're waiting for her, is it? You're still going out with other girls."
"Hell, yeah!" said Seamus, laughing.
"Well, then, all you're doing is putting it out there. You know, if she changes her mind, you're still interested. It's good, actually. There's no pressure, 'cos she knows if she turns you down, you're not gonna chuck yourself off a cliff or something."
Seamus considered this for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose. Except…" He tailed off, frowning.
"Except what?"
"Well… this is probably quite bad, but I'm worried that maybe I just keep asking out of habit, you know? And because I've wanted to get in her knickers for so long, it's like, automatic. The flirting and that."
"Well, you are a terrible flirt, Shay. Hermione always said you'd flirt with a table, as long as it had nice legs."
"Yeah, but what if she actually said yes, and we, you know, did it, and I completely lost interest? Maybe it's just the thrill of the chase for me… I don't want to mess her about... I mean, now that she's… you know, because of her face... she might think that was why I… she might think I didn't fancy her anymore… and what if I'm, you know, her first, and she expects it to be all, you know…" - he pulled a face - "Romantic and shit? I mean, she might have all these expectations about it… she might expect me to want to marry her or something… I'd have to go out with her forever, because what kind of bastard dumps someone in her position? It'd be like kicking Bambi. And what if she's only saying yes because she thinks she can't do any better now? She might think I'm her only chance of happiness or something… Oh, God! Tell me to shut up, will ya?"
Ron patted him on the arm sympathetically. "Shut up, Seamus."
Seamus pretended to sob into his beer.
"Anyway," said Ron, "She hasn't said yes, so if I were you, I'd stop worrying about it."
"Yeah," sighed Seamus, "You're probably right."
"I am right."
"Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose..."
"Oh, shut up."
They both laughed.
Ron sipped his beer thoughtfully for a moment and shot a quick sideways glance at his friend. "If I didn't know you any better, Seamus, I'd say it sounds like you're in love with her."
He expected a howl of protest but Seamus only shrugged. "Yeah, I've wondered that myself a couple of times. But honestly, I don't think I am." He appealed to Ron. "How can you tell?"
The question was both so ludicrous and so utterly sincere that Ron bit back the sarcastic retort that immediately came into his head.
"You just know. Does she make you smile when you think about her?"
"No, she makes me feel anxious and depressed. Oh, and horny."
"You're probably not in love with her, then," said Ron dryly. "Look; that makes it easier, in a way."
"Easier?"
"Well, you've got a lot less to lose. Have you ever thought that maybe she just wants a shag too?"
Seamus gave a short bark of laughter. "Well, if she does, she's had plenty of chances! I've made it pretty clear I'm up for it. She only has to ask."
"It's not so easy for girls, though, is it?"
"Err..." said Seamus dryly, "We're talking about a girl who once kissed you in front of the entire Gryffindor common room, remember?"
Ron flushed. "Yeah, but that was, you know, before..."
Seamus nodded. "That's true. Maybe she's ashamed of her body or something and doesn't want me to see it."
"You could suggest doing it with the lights off?"
They exchanged frowns.
"No..."
"No," agreed Seamus, "She'll think it's because she's ugly and I don't want to look at her. And I do. Christ, I've been wanting to see her naked for years, I'm not gonna be put off by a few scars, am I?"
"Have you told her that?"
"Yeah. I've tried everything." He let out a long sigh. "We're stuck in this rut of me trying to get in her knickers and her turning me down."
"That's not necessarily a rut, Shay. It's just her not wanting to sleep with you." He chuckled. "Bizarre though that idea might seem to you..."
"Should I say to her, 'if you ever feel your virginity's become a burden, love, I'm happy to help'?"
"Nice. You could probably phrase it a little better, though."
They both laughed.
"Maybe she thinks I only want to shag her out of sympathy or pity or something, but that's not true. I've always wanted to shag her, even before what happened... happened. I've wanted to get in her knickers since the Yule Ball. I dunno, I don't want to pressure her, but I want her to know she's still attractive. Because she is, you know? But then, I don't know if she thinks I'm offering something more than I am. Hell, I don't even know what I'm offering! I don't know if I want, you know... a relationship. Especially with someone who's agora – agora – can't go out and has as many issues as she has. I just want a bit of fun, you know? That's why I liked her in the first place; she was always fun."
Ron, who remembered Lavender being as much fun as a case of dragon pox, wisely chose not to voice this thought out loud.
"Well... maybe she's not ready for a relationship either, especially after everything she's been through. Maybe she just wants a bit of fun too."
"Yeah, except if I put it like that, it sounds like I'm just trying to get in her knickers. Trying to make out it's all for her benefit, when really I just want to get laid."
"Well, you do…"
They both laughed.
"Yeah, I do," admitted Seamus. "I suppose it's a challenge, really, as much as anything. I got a little taste at the Yule Ball and I've refused to take no for an answer ever since." He shook his head. "I mean, surely she'll give in eventually!"
"Well," shrugged Ron, reaching for his pint, "If it helps, it took me about five years from the first time I thought about Hermione, ah, you know, sexually, until the first time we actually did it. So you're not that far behind really."
"No," said Seamus, dryly, "That doesn't help at all."
He slumped dramatically forward over the table and put his arms over his head. "I dunno, maybe I'm just bored and it's something to do."
"Well, you know how to solve that problem, don't you?"
Seamus lifted his head off the table. "How?"
"Get a job."
Seamus slumped back in his chair again and sighed. "You make it sound like the answer to everything."
Ron laughed. "Well, it is! You're earning money, you can buy your own drinks, your own clothes, get your own place, have girls 'round whenever you want… it's freedom!"
"Yeah… just one problem with that, mate."
"You being a lazy bastard?"
Seamus ignored him. "Who the hell's going to give me a job?"
"I'm sure you could find something..."
"What, with no Muggle qualifications and no NEWTs?"
"Nobody in our year took their NEWTS, Shay. Employers understand that. I haven't got any NEWTs either."
"Yeah, but you have got an Order of the Phoenix medal."
"Yeah," retorted Ron, firing up, "And do you think I took it along to the interview? It's an entry level position working for the Quidditch League, Shay. Medals have got fuck all to do with it."
Seamus looked rather shame-faced. "I know, mate. I know you wouldn't use it to wangle yourself a top job. Sorry. Sorry... it's just... it just makes me so angry... Everyone's moved on and they're all acting like the war never happened, and it's not so easy for some of us to forget. I just feel like everyone's forgotten her."
It took Ron several seconds to realise he was talking about Lavender again.
"It's not like that, Shay. It's not that everyone's forgotten. It's just that we lived with it for so long and a lot of us thought we wouldn't survive, but we have, and now we just want to get on with our lives and not be thinking about the war every five fucking minutes!"
"Don't you and Hermione talk about it anymore?"
"Not if we can help it, no. It's over."
"It's not over! It's not over for Lavender! It's not over for Colin Creevey's parents! It's not over for -" He stopped and shook his head. "It's alright for you, you've moved on, you're with someone, you've got a life. It's not so easy for some of us, you know. Things happened. Some of us did things, had to do things... things we're not proud of... to survive."
"I know," said Ron quietly. "I did – we did too."
"But you don't know what it was like, at school, that last year. You were gone, Dean was gone, Harry was gone... half our friends were gone and we didn't know if they were safe, or even still alive... And for those of us left... they knew who we were, the DA... They tried to make examples of us, and every time we came back harder. Me and Neville once worked out how many times we'd had the Cruciatus curse put on us that year."
"How many times?" whispered Ron, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Seamus grimaced. "Thirty-nine. Seventeen for me, twenty-two for him. He won," he added, darkly and reached for a much-needed drink.
Ron looked down and saw that Seamus's hand was shaking and that whiskey was sloshing up the side of his glass.
"Where's all this come from, Shay?" he asked, carefully. "You've never mentioned any of this stuff before."
"Oh, I wonder why!" exclaimed Seamus. "Maybe I just didn't want to piss on your happy ending!" He glanced up and caught Ron's eye. "Don't give me that look."
"What look? I wasn't -"
"It's St Pat's night, for fuck's sake! We should be enjoying ourselves! You're right; it's over. What's the point in rehashing everything that happened all over again?"
"Shay -"
Seamus shook his head. "Forget it. I'm going for a piss."
11.24 pm
Ron glanced at his watch and realised that Seamus had been gone for rather a long time. Once before the Gryffindor boys - Ron, Seamus, Harry, Dean and Neville - had all gone out for a few drinks together about a month after the end of the war. They'd all been pretty drunk, and halfway through the evening Seamus had disappeared to the loo and not come back. He had totally forgotten he had company and gone home. Or rather, got the Knight Bus as far as Holyhead and slept on a bench in the ferry terminal, the International Floo having closed for the night.
Ron chuckled at the memory, then glanced up as the pale figure of his friend approached the table.
"Where have you been? I was about to send out a search party!"
"Toilet," mumbled Seamus.
"I thought that woman who stole your hat had come back for second helpings, you were gone so long!"
"Gnnh."
Ron frowned. "You alright?"
"I am now, yeah."
"What d'you mean?
"Uhh... just threw up."
"Oh, dear," said Ron sympathetically. "Guess that's the end of the night, then."
"Why?"
Seamus seemed genuinely perplexed, and Ron frowned. "Well... if you've just been sick..."
"No, I'm fine now. Got the poison out, so I can carry on drinking, can't I?"
He gestured at the half-drunk glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. "Is this mine?"
"Yeah, but –"
Ignoring Ron's protests, Seamus knocked it back in one and then shuddered.
"Christ, that's disgusting!"
"You're disgusting," corrected Ron. "In fact, I'm constantly amazed how someone as disgusting as you manages to do so well with women."
Seamus shrugged and laughed. "I told you, I'm not fussy."
"Still…"
"No, I'm really not fussy. Throw enough darts and eventually you'll hit the bullseye. Try it on with every woman you meet and eventually you'll get lucky."
"With fortysomething divorcees…"
"But they're so grateful for the attention! I tell them I've just turned twenty and it totally makes their night. They get a story to impress their mates and I get a blow job from someone who really knows what they're doing." He gave a wistful sigh. "It was even better when I was nineteen, though."
"Getting jaded already?" said Ron, ironically.
"Nah, just 'cos you could almost see their eyes light up when I told 'em. Nineteen… Ooh, I bet I can teach him a thing or two…"
"And can they?"
Seamus wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Ohhh, yeah..." He reached for his coat. "Let's go."
"Oh, thank Merlin!"
"I didn't mean go home," Seamus told him, "I meant go to the next pub."
Ron gaped at him. "You're joking!"
"I'm not. I'm sober again and that's not right. Not on St Paddy's Night, anyway. I'll be fine once I've got a bit of fresh air and walked it off."
"In the twenty seconds it takes to walk to the tube station, you mean?"
Seamus started pulling on his coat with grim determination. "How many more pubs have we got to do?"
"Three. Kentish Town, Tufnell Park and Archway. But we don't have to have a drink there, we can just go back to mine instead. It's right near the tube station, so it still counts."
Seamus shook his head. "No, it doesn't. Eleven tube stations, eleven pubs, eleven pints. That was the deal."
"Only because we happened to start in a pub eleven tube stops away from my house, Shay. There's no reason we have to go into every pub, or have a drink in every place. Anyway, we've already missed Mornington Crescent." He frowned. "Are you sure you want to carry on? You look horrible."
"Absolutely," said Seamus breezily. "I'm fine!"
He pushed open the door and reeled slightly in the sudden fresh air, grabbing onto the wall for support. "Jesus!"
"You alright?" asked Ron, concerned.
"Yeah, I think so," said Seamus faintly. "Well, I will be in a few minutes. Can we walk to the next one? I just need to... adjust to the fresh air."
"Yeah," said Ron, wryly, "Fresh air can be a real killer, can't it?"
Seamus managed a weak laugh. "Don't worry, mate. Only three more pubs to go!"
Ron buried his head in his hands and let out a groan. "We're gonna die, aren't we? We're actually gonna die."
"Nah. We're not gonna die. We might end up in Casualty having our stomachs pumped... but we're not actually gonna die."
"Fine!" sighed Ron. "Kentish Town it is, then."
"Brilliant," said Seamus, perking up immediately. "There'll be loads of proper Irish pubs there too. Not like that awful plastic paddy place we were in earlier. If I wanted a shamrock in my pint -" He shook his head. "Well, I don't, anyway. A fecking shamrock! I ask ya!"
Ron gave an elaborate false cough that sounded rather like "Guinness hat".
Seamus ignored him. "Anyway, if I'm gonna pull anywhere, it's gonna be there."
Ron gaped at him. "Are you insane? You're not gonna pull tonight!"
"Why not?"
"Because... because you've just been sick, for one!"
"And?"
"And you've just drunk your own body weight in Guinness!"
"And? It's St Pat's Night; so will half the women in the pub! They'll be ripe for plucking!"
"They'll also be too drunk to stand up..."
Seamus gave a hollow laugh. "Well, at least they'll be lying down, that's halfway there, isn't it?"
