Title: I'm Sick, You're Tired, Let's Dance
Author: smolder
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Angel the Series belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. Title is a lyric from a song by the band Metric.
A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.
A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.
A/N 3: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.
"Ginny and I aren't together together anymore. We're not getting divorced or anything," he rushed out, "and we've decided we're not going to because of the kids. We even still sleep in the same bed so they don't find out - just on opposite sides now. And we talk a lot, but we don't have sex," Harry sighed gustily and looked down at the beer in his hand and fell back against the sofa.
"Bloody hell," he said running his hand and making his hair stick up even more. "I don't know why I can't stop myself from telling you these things."
Seamus just slanted his eyes over at the guy he had internally dubbed "The Man Who Couldn't Not Fuck Shit Up" and said blandly, "You do know that therapists usually get paid, Harry."
The other man snorted and took a pull from his beer.
"Molly would have a cow if we tried to get a divorce anyway; after how hard she pushed for the wedding and all. I think it's another one of those things that just "aren't done" in the Wizarding World," Harry said morosely swirling the liquid in the bottle around.
Seamus closed his eyes prayed for patience, it was something he seemed to do a lot around Harry.
"Harry," he carded his fingers through his own hair, "shit, you make this hard. Look, I don't want to tell you what to do. You have so many people telling you what to fucking think, and I'm not going to be one of them. Just," he sighed, "just take this as advice, we're friends by now and this is just advice. Advice that you can take or leave and it has no bearing on whether you'll be welcome here; alright? Got that?"
Harry nodded easily, but Seamus had been careful with his words. Because Harry seemed to have this strange notion that family was like an exclusive club. That he had to follow all the rules very carefully or he would be thrown out. The Dursley's was a club he hadn't been allowed into because he wasn't normal. But then the Weasley's accepted him with open arms. Accepted that he was scrawny, messy-haired, green-eyed, magical - Harry. And he was desperate not to lose that. Even if it meant following the club's rules that he wasn't exactly comfortable with. Seamus needed Harry to understand that he wasn't like that. He never wanted to be someone that simply gave orders and had them carried out, no matter how sugarcoated or well-intentioned they were. The thought left him feeling sick inside.
"Just look," he sighed. "If you were Harry. Just Harry in a bubble - without any outside influences. No one at all," he reiterated. "And you have four kids. All yours, all probably marvelous gorgeous things with uncontrollable hair if their father is any indication." Harry grinned over at him and he soldiered on regardless, "Would you treat any one of them differently from the others?"
"No." he answered automatically. Then Harry gave a start and his eyes widened. "Oh, fuck."
"Yeah," Seamus said, "that about sums it up."