Present day-

1 month after the break up

6 years after the war.

Now, while "thinking'" wasn't amongst Seamus's strongest suit, "feeling", very much was.

It was, after all, a matter of pride for one of Irish blood.

In fact, according to one version of the popular legend, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow was actually just the heart of an Irishman. (or as his gran liked to add, an Irishwoman)

Right.

Anyway.

So, Seamus Felt. Strongly.

And as a natural consequence, he also Loved. Strongly.

After the war, Seamus had come to realise that unbeknownst to him, his heart's list of intensely loved people had extended exponentially. He embraced it good naturally enough. Where before he kept his love-beam concentrated on his mam, his dad, his gran, Dean when he wasn't being a prat and occasionally his cousin Fergus; after graduation his circle of interest had suddenly expanded to encompass most of his house mates, all his dorm-mates and a lot of his Hogwarts mates (too many mates entirely if he was being honest.)

But, Seamus was nothing if not committed to his ancestral obligation. He undertook his hereditary duty to the fullest and embarked on the challenge. For challenge it was.

As his mam always said, God always sends a test for his strongest soldiers.

And Seamus was easily top three if his test was anything to go by.

His heart having adopted the one person Seamus had never imagined he would grow to care so strongly for (especially considering how close the both came to blows towards the ends of their school years), the Boy Who Lived (now only to brood), his perpetually moody boss, one Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, who did NOT apparently, in addition to all his already innumerous faults, take break-ups well.

Seamus stood for a minute in the doorway to the Head Aurors office, having moved first and not really knowing what he planned to even say, before realising that wasn't his style and strolling in.

"Hiya, Harry", he said, approaching his friends desk.

"Hey, Seamus," came the harried reply.

Seamus tutted at the scruff he could see on Harry's face even from this angle, his head still buried in a report of some hag attack or other.

"Haven't seen a razor in a while have ya?"

Harry sighed, rubbing a hand tiredly across his face as he looked up," I'm sorry Seamus, did you need something?"

The silence stretched out.

Harry was by now getting increasingly alarmed at Seamus's blank stare, and was contemplating reaching for his wand when suddenly Seamus started muttering to himself, incomprehensibly turning on his heel and striding for the door he had just entered from.

Harry started,utterly perplexed,"Seamus?"

"Youdthnkthemancouldtakeashoweratleast-"

"Seamus?"

"Lookinglikeamangydog-"

"Seamus!What-"

But Harry could only stare in astonishment as his (previously believed to be at least semi sane) friend, still muttering himself, simply….walked out.