"Serving Time" Seamus/Susan 2/13

[thanfiction.livejournal.com]

Title: Serving Time
Pairing: Susan/Seamus
Prompt: As It Is
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,583
Summary: Prisons come in many forms.
Author's Notes: Set in the DAYDverse, uses the canon of Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness and the sequel novel, Sluagh. May not make sense without them. Both stories, as well as the rest of the 'verse, can be found here
Link to Prompt Table: On my LJ, here

OOO

It would have been much easier with a wand, but it was locked up somewhere in the Ministry of Magic for the next fourteen years, eleven months, and six days, as he had been guilty of using the magical tool to cause “grievous bodily harm resultant in death.”  Personally, he thought this was a little absurd.  The object that had caused the grievous bodily harm had been a knife, actually – the wand just meant there was a lot less struggle involved and probably had made it fractionally more merciful in the end – and he had one of those in his hand right now, perfectly legally.  Bureaucracy was mental. 

Still, there was nothing he could do about it, and so he continued to root among the straw in the Macmillans’ barn, separating out the long, tangled sections of baling twine from the scattered piles and cutting them into usable portions, then bundling those together and laying them neatly aside.  It was a boring task, something that except for the cutting part he knew was usually given to Cecily, but that, at least, he didn’t resent, as he knew that he wasn’t capable of much more. 

He had just finished tying his most recent cluster of thirty when the rustle of footsteps alerted him that he was no longer alone, but he didn’t bother to look up.  “Nearmost done, I am, Duncan.  One more, maybe two still –“

“Not planning to do anything nefarious with all that rope, are you, Finnigan?”

Seamus startled at the unexpected voice – not Duncan at all, nor any of the other farmhands, but Anthony Goldstein – and his mouth twisted into a bitter mimicry of his former wit, his eyes shuttering instantly.  “Thinkin’ o’ takin’ up knittin’, so I’ve been.  That acceptable, Auror, or be there a problem with me havin’ the pointy things?”  He spun the knife in a way that he knew was not quite threatening, but he still expected a flinch, a flicker of fear, something from the demonstrated ease. 

But Anthony didn’t flinch.  Not in the slightest.  Instead, the young Auror actually laughed.  “Oh, maybe a little coarse for a jumper, if you’re planning to use that, but I don’t see a problem with it.”  He motioned casually to a nearby bale.  “Mind if I sit?  It’s my last stop for the day, and I don’t want to go home limping.  Li would worry.”

“Sure…” Seamus responded, a little confused at the other man’s completely relaxed attitude, as well as surprised to see that Anthony was indeed distinctly limping as he crossed to the bale and sat down.  “Ain’t ya here to check on me, though?  Official business?”

Anthony looked up, raising one dark eyebrow.  “Killed anyone?”

“No.”

“Planning to kill anyone?”

“No.”

“There.  Official business done.  It’s just a formality, really.  We all know if you were going to blow it, we wouldn’t know until after, and we wouldn’t have to ask.  You’ve never been subtle.”  He had bent over, rucking up the cuffs of his trousers, and he winced as he rubbed at his calf, unable to suppress a low groan that made Seamus tilt his head in sympathetic curiosity. 

“Never quite heal, then?”

“You could say that.”  Anthony raised his head, an odd little grin on his face, then he sat up straight, and Seamus startled to see that he was holding not just the shoe that he had seemed to be removing, but his entire lower leg.  There was a rather boyish laugh at the reaction, and he sat the prosthesis on the bale beside him as he bent over again to the other.  “Both had to go, actually.  Pulped.  But I’m pretty good on these now…most people don’t even know I’m about fifteen inches shorter than I used to be unless I go too long on my feet and wind up like this.”  He motioned at the reddened, inflamed stumps with his wand, sighing in obvious relief as they immediately began to go down, the angry look fading to nothing worse than two neat scars. 

“I’m…sorry,” Seamus offered awkwardly.  “I didn’t know.”

Anthony shrugged dismissively, letting his trousers fall limply over the foreshortened limbs as he leaned back on his elbows to regard Seamus with a strangely unreadable expression.  “How about you?  Pardon me saying so, but you look like shit.”

“Got stabbed in the heart.  Takes a man off his best, it does.”  His tone refuted any further discussion of the topic, but Anthony pressed on, not at all dissuaded.

“You should be almost fully recovered by now.  Susan says you’re still hardly eating, that you barely speak to anyone except Cecily, spend most of the time sitting in your room or staring off into space.  For a guy that couldn’t be shut up with the Cruciatus, that’s a little alarming.”

“Alarmin’ or not, ain’t your business, Auror,” Seamus said coldly, turning away to fish for more twine among the straw.

“I don’t know,” Anthony replied quietly, “I think inmates should stick together.” 

Now Seamus stopped, frowning as he looked back at the other wizard.  “Inmates?  Didn’t think they let folk what were servin’ time have wands, much less be Aurors, or were I just so batshit they reckon me a special case?”

“There’s more ways to be condemned than by the Wizengamot.”  Anthony plucked at his robes, displaying the patch at his chest with the crossed and sparking wands that marked him among the elite Enforcer’s unit.  “This is my sentence.  Two more years to go.”

“And what’s your crime?” Seamus asked sarcastically. 

“Murder.  Same as yours.”  He spoke matter-of-factly, but the guilt was clear in his dark eyes.  “And I don’t mean Death Eaters.  I was trying to get Geoff out of the line of fire when that wall came down.  Panicked, dropped him and tried to run.  He was hurt pretty bad, don’t know if he’d have lived anyway, or if we’d have both been trapped, but I abandoned a fourteen year-old kid to save my own skin, and a few years of living dangerously isn’t going to undo the look on his face as he was buried.” 

There was no reply to the confession, he didn’t even know if there was supposed to be one, but Anthony didn’t seem to expect an answer as he went on, his eyes never leaving Seamus’.  “There were a lot more than the three Unforgivables that night, and you’re not the only one in a prison without bars.  Neville, Zach, Ron, Harry…we all went with the Aurors for ours, but everyone does it their own way.  Susan has her Fund.  You…well, I think you might have been the most dramatic, but that was always your style.  Still, I thought it might be worth something to know you’re not alone in this.”

Seamus gave a snort that wasn’t quite a laugh.  “I’d thank ya for the tea and sympathy, but there weren’t none o’ the former, and I don’t be needin’ the latter.” 

“No, I don’t suppose you think you do.”  Anthony sighed, then bent again to begin strapping his legs back into place.  “But you were a Gryffindor once, and maybe, since you’re going to be here every day for a considerable while, you might remember that chivalrous streak and be willing to see if you can do something for Sue after everything she’s done for us.” 

The request made little sense, and Seamus shook his head, motioning back towards the farmhouse with the hilt of the knife.  “She don’t need nothin’ from me.” 

“She needs a friend,” Anthony insisted.  “She’s been running the Fund, she’s been a great mother to Cecily, but she’s practically cloistered herself up here, even keeping Hannah at arm’s length.  As it is, for all she hates herself for what he gave, Ernie’s sacrifice bought her a life in name only.  I thought…”  He trailed off, busying himself with a few last adjustments, then shrugged as he stood carefully.  “Well, heaven knows I’m not trying to be a yenta, I don’t mean trying to make her forget him like that, but I thought maybe…it’s big and it’s quiet up here.  People could talk, talk about anything, and no one would ever have to know.” 

His suggestion stood between them like a physical thing, and to his own disbelief, Seamus found himself nodding, a strange, vague hunger arising in him at the possibility of having a task that wasn’t busywork, even a way to atone that wasn’t just days on the calendar.  He knew that he was himself a lost cause, whatever might have been worth salvaging long destroyed, but Susan was something else entirely.  If he could do anything to help someone truly worth it….  “What should ya be wantin’ me to do?”

“What none of the rest of us can,” Anthony smiled, tucking his wand into his belt as he started towards the door.  “Be here.” 

He chuckled despite himself.  “Ain’t no worry o’ me leavin’, there ain’t.” 

“No.”  One hand was already on the heavy wooden handle of the door, but Anthony paused, turning back, and his voice was firm.  “If you want to be there for her, I mean you have to be here first, and you’re still at Hogwarts.  As someone else who still spends a lot of time there, I don’t think you ever left.”  A smile as hard as fallen stone cracked over his mouth.  “But you were Gryffindor.  You’re supposed to be braver than me.”   

THE END