Seamus woke up the next morning with a bad feeling in his bones. It sometimes was this way; it just felt like lava creeping through his veins, pouring through every inch of his body, smoke choking the way up his throat.

It used to happen a lot in his first few years at Hogwarts. He'd always chalked it up to anxiety, but it hadn't been as common of late. Today was the first time since he'd started dating Hermione that it was present, and she clocked it immediately.

"What's wrong?" She asked, eyeing him as he came stumbling down the stairs in the morning. Seamus opened his mouth to explain but looked at Dean, who had been with him for more than one of these bouts. Though it was his own body, he was no better at articulating such a sensation than someone random could do.

"It's just a way he gets," Dean tried to explain, "It goes away in a day or so."

"Are you sure you're okay to go to class?" Hermione hovered, nervous.

"Can't afford to miss class, Luv, or I'll fall behind…" He sighed, "I really can't afford that."

Hermione pouted and chewed on her lip, looking helplessly at Dean, who just shrugged. Dean had never been able to help him either with this. He just…existed with this feeling until it went away.

He couldn't say anything in particular brought it on. It just appeared. Of course, his first few times, he'd poured over his daily interactions the day before, searching for some magic code that would explain it.

He'd come to the realization that some things just didn't have answers. He couldn't explain that to Hermione, who may have a conniption at the idea that not everything had a perfect solution.

"You just look…sick."

"Thanks," Seamus muttered sarcastically.

"She's not wrong. You look two steps from death." Dean agreed.

"Are you sure it's…" Hermione waved her hand in intangible ideas, "You know, whatever you say it is, and not some wizarding cold?"

"Positive," Seamus muttered as he sipped his warm pumpkin juice, "I know this feeling anywhere."

Hermione looked ready to argue more, but something kept her quiet.

Their first class with Flitwick was on Summoning Charms and Seamus' blood rushed so torrentially that he didn't really get a good run at it. He knew Hermione was watching him like he was set to just faint and die at any given moment, so she also didn't do very well. He knew Flitwick was surprised, as she was usually the first to master a charm, and tried to hide it (not very well) when Lisa Turpin managed to get her paperclip to come to her hand before anyone else.

Seamus put his head down on his desk, wishing he could sink into it. He didn't recall much of the rest of class or after, feeling like he was walking in a daze.

"Do you know what you'll do?"

Seamus frowned. They were walking to Transfiguration.

"Huh?"

"Flitwick. He was talking about our futures. About how important it is to have a good idea of where we're headed…seems silly to expect fifteen-year-olds to pick out their whole life, huh?"

Seamus chuckled, "Don't lie. You already have a fifteen-year plan, don't you?"

"Well, I'm the anomaly, not the norm," Hermione said, "So, do you have any ideas?"

"Uhm-," His head felt like it was filled with ash, and his lips cracked and dry, "No. Not really. I think part of me expects everyone to bail on the farm and I think I'll have to take it over anyway," Seamus shrugged, "Before that happens? It's…well, like you said," He scratched the back of his head, "Not something I spend a lot of time considering."

He expected Hermione to sermonize him, but instead, she shrugged, "You have time."

"What? Not going to lecture me? Didn't I hear you just give Harry and Ron the same chastising?" He asked, almost teasing, but more genuine.

Hermione blinked at him, "You're my boyfriend. Do you want to be lectured like I'm you're Mum?"

"No, that sounds horrifying."

"Exactly. Be it that Harry's dealing with a lot, Ron has no excuse not to think about his life after," Hermione waved her hands, dismissing Ron's wining in her head.

"And I get a free pass because I'm dating you?" Seamus nudged her shoulders lightly as they got on the moving staircases.

"No, but I'm more committed to helping you find your way rather. A partner." She assured, "I guess I just know that you can be responsible and are kind and will follow through if I put the idea out there once. I bet you'll think about it now because that's what a normal person would." She narrowed her eyes, "Ron? I'm not entirely sure. He needs his hand held…often."

Seamus tried to hold in a snort.

They reached Transfiguration class and sat together. They didn't always, as they both liked sitting with their friends. They also weren't the couple that needed to all the time. Neither liked PDA and the fact that sometimes people seemed surprised to see them sitting together in classes, like it had slipped the public's mind, suited Seamus just fine. He knew Hermoine was famous in her own way, but that didn't mean he was ready for a lifetime of scrutiny.

Most of the time.

McGongall's lesson began with high expectations and a tip; apparently, the tip to magic was simply believing in yourself. Of course, it was less sappy when she said it, but it seemed to basically amount to that.

Even Hermione seemed to want to roll her eyes.

"Magic takes a great deal more than just confidence," She muttered, "It takes rigid practice!"

They were tasked with the Vanishing Spell, apparently one of the most difficult in their lessons that they'd need to perfect for O. . They had a double period to practice it.

"Where do you think these snails go?" Lavender said as they were given their practice items, "Do you think they just sit in snail purgatory until they're conjured back by NEWT students?"

It was not the sort of day when Seamus wanted to be considering existentialism or the morality of using snails as live practice.

As it was, his fingers felt like they could melt the table if he pressed them there long enough.

The task was indeed daunting without his stomach bubbling like a potion, and almost unbearable with it.

He sort of could feel that trouble may be brewing on his first attempt because the snail didn't vanish. Instead, his wand just sparked, and shocked his hand, though he held it tightly, not wanting Hermione to worry more.

Each attempt was also draining. It wasn't talked about as much as it should, in Seamus' mind, but every time you tried to do a new spell and failed it, it felt like you were running with all your might at a boulder and shoving it as hard as you could, trying to move it, only to ricochet back when it didn't work.

It exhausted the mind and the body physically, feeling like you'd just been holding that boulder above your head for hours on end.

So, while a double period seemed generous, the truth was that a good attempt took longer and longer to do, as your body wore down between each attempt.

Hermione did not manage on the first try.

He saw her lips pursed in displeasure, as she stared at the snail leaving a little gooey trail across their desk, getting eye-level with it, as though she was trying to read its mind.

He watched her shake out her arms and try again, to similar non-results.

After this try, she put her wand down and took a light walk around the room, stretching herself, her fingers practicing the wand movement as she did three laps.

When she returned, she did the incation and her snail popped out of existence.

"Marvelous work! Ten points to Gryffindor!" McGonagall praised, clapping.

The entire class turned to stare at Hermione.

Seamus bit back that same smoke inching up his throat. He felt the eyes of everyone on him, and it was like he could hear their thoughts.

Look at Hermione, so smart of course! What is she doing dating Seamus Finnigan, who can't get his snail to vanish? Must date him out of pity, of course. She'll realize sooner or later how dumb he is, and surely then, she'll dump him.

"Seamus?" Hermione's hand was on his shoulder, concerned, "Are you sure you don't want to-,"

"I'm okay! I got this," Seamus choked out, raising his wand. Even as he was bringing his wand down, saying the incantation, begging to push that boulder away, and let the ease of magic slip through like a river rushing past a dam, he knew he'd pushed himself too far.

That anxiety, that fire burning through him, exploded out, making his wand so hot that it singed his hands to the touch and lit the room with a brilliance that could be described as bright as the sun.

When the ringing subsided, the place the snail had been on the desk was scorched a black, smoldering color, like someone had lit a fire right there. And the snail? Well, it seemed to be reduced to literal goo, splattered all over, mostly on Seamus.

Though he knew that snails weren't the most sentient, he was feeling overwhelmed and the the knowledge of what he'd done, when he knew he shouldn't have pushed his magic, made him feel ill.

He leaned over and barfed up bile onto the floor.

"Mr. Finnigan, are you alright?"

"Sorry, Professor," Seamus said weakly, "I'll clean all this up."

McGonagall grasped his hands, turning them over to show ugly burns, cracking skin, and pus-filled blisters. She reached for his wand, but it was still steaming hot.

She placed a hand on his forehead.

"Nonsense," She said quietly, "You should go to the infirmary. Granger; since you managed to succeed, please take him. You're excused from homework as well tonight."

Everyone was actually staring at him now. If they weren't thinking rude thoughts before, he was absolutely sure they were all making opinions about him now.

He tried to push their judgemental gaze out of his head, though found it difficult.

"I'm fine," Seamus argued. He was feeling different. The lava in his bones was gone. He thought he was fine, but as he leaned over, the world felt dizzy.

"I'll take him," Hermione said, catching him before he tipped over completely.

"Back to work everyone! No one else has succeeded, as far as I know!" McGonagall said sharply and everyone immediately went back to spell-casting.

"You did make the snail disappear," Harry said as they passed, a kind smile on his face, "Perhaps not the way that was asked, but you technically fulfilled the assignment."

Seamus let out a grin, "Thanks, mate."

Hermione didn't speak all the way to the infirmary.

Seamus could tell she was fuming.

Pomfrey saw one look at him and rushed him over to a cot, starting on putting a salve on his hands that burned and dressing them. He sucked in hard as she did so, wincing at the pain.

"He's been sick all morning," Hermione said, standing aside, arms crossed, "And he refused to do anything about it."

"Gryffindors are a stubborn lot," Pompfrey said, waggling a finger at Seamus, "You hear me, boy?"

He shrugged grumpily. Pompfrey sighed, turning to Hermione.

"What seems to ail him?"

"I don't know. Dean said he gets this way. He just looked really sick, I can't describe it. And then today in Transfiguration, it was like his magic just…burst out."

"Another explosion, hmm?" Pomfrey said, clearly used to his trademark.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's right here, you know?" Seamus snapped irritably.

"Nothing that I know definitely. There are some cases of magic getting bottled up, and having similar reactions, but it's usually a one-time thing and it won't explain his other affinity for fire and explosions." Pomfrey responded, "But that's the best answer I have."

From Hermione's deeply troubled face, clearly not good enough for her.

"I should be right as rain now, Luv," Seamus tried to soothe her, "I don't usually have more than one magical outburst in a calendar year of late. And, they're not as common anymore."

"I know but…" Hermione sat down on the bed across from where Pomfrey worked, "What if this is dangerous? Like it's some precursor to magical cancer or something?"

"Let's not jump to worst conclusions," Promfrey choked a bit, "None of my scans have ever shown something so severe. Let's not panic him; you're allowed to stay if you don't send him into another anxiety attack."

"That wasn't my intention," Hermione replied testily. Pomfrey insisted on a full workup, along with Hermione's insistence, just to make sure.

He could hear the bell tolling for the start of their next class.

"Get going, Hermione. You shouldn't miss Care of Magical Creatures on my account."

"But-,"

"It would be best to give him some space," Pomfrey agreed, "You can visit him after dinner if I deem he needs to stay."

Hermione sighed, leaning in and giving him a quick peck, before adjusting her bookbag and striding out.

"You should get some sleep. Everything feels better after a nap," Pomfrey said. You wouldn't think it, but the infirmary sheets were strangely comforting. Seamus always theorized it must be a calming charm or something. It made you just want to doze off into the white, clean, starched embrace…

The light had changed when he opened his eyes, meaning he'd slipped into a slumber. From the sound of the students, he guessed it was after the next class. He had half a thought to get up, but exhaustion washed over him.

If Pomfrey wasn't shooing him out, perhaps a good, magically encouraged sleep would do him some good. Besides, it still felt like his limbs were filled with ash, and the remnants of the spell burned up his nose, an acrid and bitter reminder.

When he awakens again, someone is sitting at the foot of his bed. Warmth fills his chest as he blearily awakens, thinking Hermione's keeping him company until he catches dark coiled hair and warm brown skin.

"Lavender?"

Lavender, flipping through a magazine, looks up.

"I thought you were dead, Seamus!" She sighs, "You gave me half a fright… collapsing like that!"

"What are you-,"

"Seamus, we've been friends for years. I have a right to be concerned, you know? Hermione even suggested I come to see you."

Seamus sat up, yawning, rubbing his neck, "She did?"

"I wasn't sure if it was overstepping, but she assured me it would be okay," Lavender said, turning to sit, one leg dangling and the other curled under her. She examined Seamus with concern, "How do you feel?" She whispered.

"Better," Seamus said, entirely honest, "If I ask nicely, hopefully Pomfrey will let me leave soon." He said, itching underneath his bandages. It had done its job, reducing his palms to nearly healed and newly stitched skin, "What have I missed?"

"Mhh; we have to draw Botruckles for Care of Magical Creatures. They're so cute, Seamus! I know why that old magazoologist, Lizard, or whatever used to carry one around with him."

"Do you mean Newt Scamander?"

"Yes," Lavender snapped her fingers, "Yes, that's his name. I want to carry one around with me everywhere I go! And then after class, that absolutely barmy girl - the fourth year with the turnips and the owl eyes - told Harry that she believes him about the whole Voldemort thing." Lavender chortled into her hand, "She's bold, I guess. And has atrocious taste in earrings."

Seamus scowled, "Lav," He chastised in a frustrated down, "Don't tell me you bullied her?" He knew that Lavender could be sharp, and their distance and non-dating situation made him realize that sometimes she could be downright mean. He knew Hermione had stories of awful things she probably said to her, but knowing him and Lavender's friendship, was doing the incredibly mature thing and not repeating them.

"Well, if she doesn't want people making fun of her, then she shouldn't be so weird," Lavender said, face blushing to be called out, "I mean, really. You should have heard her! Even Hermione wasn't too pleased about it. She was just as bad as us."

Seamus also knew that Hermione could be blinded by her stubbornness. Even though Hermione didn't mean to be malicious, where sometimes he felt Lavender did, he absolutely would buy that maybe she said some unkind things.

"Wait, not pleased about what?"

"That she's the only one defending him. I mean, she isn't. Ernie agreed too afterward. And you're on his side." She waved a hand. Seamus read her expression.

"Still not you?"

"It's just hard to know what's truth and what's not," Lavender said with an uneasy smile, "I mean, every year, it seems there's just another lie in the castle… something else that's being hidden or twisted. Who's to say this isn't one of those times? I guess I just need more…" She shrugged, "Proof."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"How was Herbology?"

"Long. Hard. Homework," Lavender tilted her head side to side, "Same old, same old. These teachers really don't appreciate the fact that we have lives outside of school. It's annoying." She stood, "Hermione has your makeup work. It's just about dinner time if you're feeling up for it."

"Let me see if I'm free to leave. Thanks for visiting, Lavender."

Lavender petted his head, "Anytime, Seamus. I'm glad we can still be friends, you know?"

Seamus was glad that she was someone that he could still talk to.

"Me too."

XXX

Seamus didn't make it to dinner. Pomfrey insisted on one last thorough exam, and another layer of salve on his hands, which were almost back to normal looking. She had the house-elves make him a dinner kit to take back to the common room, insisting that if he felt like this again, he should report to the infirmary right away.

"It was never this bad before," Pomfrey argued when Seamus began to noise his displeasure, "Never resulted in fainting! I didn't want to worry Miss Granger, but she wasn't completely wrong. There are a great many terrible things that it could be if it continues in frequency. Better safe than sorry, Mr. Finnigan!"

Seamus walked back to the common room, nibbling on a soft and buttery bun, pausing between each bite to itch his palms. His explosions always caused chaos, but up until now, the effects on him had been cosmetic. A signed eyebrow. A patch of hair missing. A slight sunburn.

This was the first time it had given him true harm, and he'd be lying to say that it didn't concern him.

XXX

The week passed just as busy and suffocatingly as the first few days. As Lavender said, it certainly felt like the teachers didn't have respect for their free time, or even acknowledge that other teachers had also given them mountains of homework. Seamus had never gone through so many parchments or ink pots, and it was scarcely a week in!

Thank Merlin he and Hermione were in the same house, otherwise, he'd think that they wouldn't even see each other. They were both so buried in homework that most of their nights consisted of sitting next to each other and just furiously scrawling, neither able to spare a moment to chat. And when they were free, they were tied up in Prefect duties, meaning that the amount of thoughtful connections they'd had with each other was zero.

By Friday night, Seamus was ready to sleep in and bloody well enjoy it tomorrow…before waking up to continue doing even more homework.

"I really hope this changes soon," Dean complained as he rolled his Transfiguration scroll, "Because I will wither away if I have to spend the entire year like this. I'm not meant for homework twenty-four seven!"

"No one is," Hermione agreed, shocking everyone, "What? I'd also like some time to my own devices, you know!"

"A bit of light reading?" Harry teased, "Like an 800-page book?"

"Exactly!" Hermione said, either missing his humor or choosing to ignore it, "And I haven't even had a moment for my personal project. And Seamus! I feel like I barely see him." She said.

"I think Seamus is just dandy," Ron said sourly, "You two seem to be doing just fine."

"Yes, Ronald, but when one dates someone…you actually desire to go on dates with them," Hermione replied snappishly. Ron looked like he was going to vomit.

"If you start to get sappy, I'm leaving the dinner table. As it is…dunno if I can stomach it."

"Of course you can," Lavender piped in, "When does Ron turn down any food?"

"You know, you're right. I think I'll suffer through it." Ron said, taking second helpings.

After dinner, Seamus decided to write his family, knowing all of them would be anxious to know how he was doing (read; not yet killed), so he sat down on the Owlery steps and wrote his Mum, Dad, and Finn all letters. He knew his brothers would absorb information through one of his other family members and he wasn't close enough with them to think about writing personally.

When he returned to the Common Room, Neville and Dean were working through homework. Lavender and Parvati had given up and were painting each other's nails.

"Where's Hermione?"

"Shh!" Neville said, raising his finger over his lip, and pointing to a chair in the corner near a fireplace. Hermione was dozing in the plush redness, her absurdly fluffy cat curled in her lap, a quill in one hand and a book loosely held in the other. The pages dangled and swayed slightly with the movement of students.

Seamus took out his books, sitting beside Dean, glad Hermione was getting some well-deserved rest.

Harry and Ron came in with the quidditch team. While Seamus liked the sport, he'd never had any wish to join up. He didn't really feel like sports were his forte. He didn't know Ron was any good, but from Angelina's conversation, it seemed he'd done well enough to make it to the team.

Wait, no, seemed Harry was in detention previously. Not Quidditch.

Tough break.

"Can't believe you're still in detention with that toad," Seamus said as Harry passed, shuddering.

He went to try to sit next to Hermoine, but Seamus nearly tripped Harry in his process to stop him.

"Oi!" Harry exclaimed, "What gives?"

"Don't wake her up! She's pulled thin lately; let her sleep." Seamus said protectively. Ron groaned behind the pair.

"If she didn't want to be woken, she shouldn't bloody have fallen asleep in the common room!" He argued.

"No, no. I can sit elsewhere. It's fine." Harry agreed, blinking at Seamus with a peculiar expression like he hadn't quite thought that it would be rude to wake her. Ron threw up his hands, rolling his eyes, "It's just…I had…something to tell her." He said nervously.

"Something what?" Seamus crossed his arms, "is it really that urgent?"

"Perhaps?"

"Wake her if you're sure," Seamus grunted, shaking his head, "I think it can wait until tomorrow."

"You wouldn't know," Ron said, "What Harry goes through! It might be life or death!"

"And she's the only one who can deal with it? Seriously?" Seamus reminded himself he'd been sent to the infirmary once already. Going again with a broken bone would make Pomfrey send a letter home for sure.

"Uhm…"

It didn't matter. A first-year bumped the armchair and Hermione startled awake, delirious and confused.

"You heard the good news about Ron?" She asked as soon as she saw Harry, "About Quidditch?"

"Yeah…" Harry looked over his shoulder where Seamus was watching like a hawk, "Look, erm…" Whatever he was going to say he shrugged, "You should go to bed. You look tired."

Hermione tried to stifle a yawn, but couldn't. She slumped a bit defeated, "Yeah, maybe. But it seemed like you had something to talk to me about."

Harry rubbed her back in a friendly gesture, "Later. Go sleep, Hermione."

Hermione gathered Crookshanks in her arms, giving a half-drowsy smile, "Night, Seamus. Night, Harry." She said. Seamus felt a twirl of pride that she'd said his name first.

"What about me?" Ron squawked, "What am I? Chopped liver?"

Seamus felt even better when Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring him, and left Ron standing without a greeting of departure.