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rarepair_shorts2008-12-22 02:51 pm
rarepairs_mod) wrote in rarepair_shorts2008-12-22 02:51 pm
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Fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
luvscharlie
Author: myownmuggle
Recipient:luvscharlie
Title: A Witch, a Wizard, and a Lion
Pairing: Seamus/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 1325
Summary: Seamus fancied himself a ladies man, but what he really needed was her.
Author's Notes: I’m so happy I got a chance to write this for you. I think everyone needs his or her other half, and I hope you enjoy this!
Seamus Finnigan had always considered himself a bit of a ladies man – that is, he fancied a lot of different girls during his Hogwarts years, befriended a fair few of them, snogged not nearly enough of them, but never seemed to find that one perfect woman that was his other half. Until her.
She’d snickered, along with the rest of his Gryffindor housemates, when his attempt to turn a goblet full of water into rum had literally blown up in his face. Her laugh though, had carried above the others. He’d smiled impishly when she cast that very disapproving look that said she was Hermione Granger and she would have know better than to attempt such a silly spell. More likely, she would have been successful at it.
Seamus tucked away that look of hers and the sound of her laugh. Somehow after that, no one else quite measured up. He tried to forget her and when that failed miserably, he set about becoming her friend.
Nowadays, he considered himself a most fortunate man.
~ * ~
“A Sickle for your thoughts,” she whispered from behind him as she gently laid her hands on his shoulders.
Seamus shook his head and smiled as he turned around.
“I was just remembering our first days at Hogwarts and how you laughed at me in the Great Hall.”
Hermione laughed again, peal after peal, before looking Seamus in the eye, pursing her lips and trying without much success to glare disapprovingly.
“Ah lass, you’ve not lost yer touch. You just can’t resist me charms any more.”
“Is that what it is? I thought maybe you’d finally managed to work some kind of love spell on me.”
Seamus chuckled. “Even I know better than that, love. Now, I suppose you came in here to tell me something?”
Hermione nodded. “Of course. We’re meant to be having dinner with your parents tonight. Time you were getting changed so we’re not late.”
“I wasn’t the one that made us late to dinner with Ron and Luna, as I recall. Someone was locked in the bathroom with a bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion for half the day.” Seamus placed a hand over his bicep and jumped backwards when he saw the look in Hermione’s eye.
“Now lass, you know me tattoo is still healing. The wizard artist said to be gentle with it. Besides, you looked right beautiful when you were done with whatever you were doing in there.”
Seamus ducked as Hermione took a good-natured swing at him. She looked beautiful no matter what she did – bushy hair and all.
With Hermione’s prodding, they made it to Tubridy’s Pub in Cooraclare on time. She’d met Michael and Fidelma Finnigan years before. After the war of course, but not very long after she and Seamus had discovered they were more than just friends. Hermione Granger was rarely anything but confident – sure of herself and her intentions. Tonight, however, she was nervous. She’d faced hideously scary creatures, the likes of Dolores Umbridge and even Voldemort himself. Nothing she felt then compared to the knots currently twisting and turning in her stomach.
Seamus had insisted they travel by Side-Along Apparition, and though she disliked the sensation (finding it akin to the sea-sickness she suffered when her father had taken the family out on a boat on one of their vacations), she was glad she’d capitulated. Floo powder would have left her a dusty mess, and there had been no time to arrange for a Portkey.
Hermione’s stomach clenched and her chest tightened when she realized that the Finnigans had arrived before them. Fidelma’s eyes lit up when at the sight of her only son, and she smiled warmly when she saw Hermione with him.
“Ma, Da, you both remember Hermione, I think.”
“Of course. It’s a delight to see you, dear.” Fidelma’s voice was musical. Hermione returned the hug and kissed her on the cheek, hoping that the musical voice wouldn’t suddenly strike a sour tune when Seamus shared their news.
Michael Finnigan had ordered a round of drinks by the time they sat down. He spoke enthusiastically with his son, sharing the latest Muggle football scores and asking about his adopted Quidditch team, the Ballycastle Bats. For a Muggle who had been shocked to learn his wife was a witch, Michael had taken quickly to life in the wizarding world. With Voldemort’s downfall, he and Fidelma had finally resettled from their quiet Muggle village to Cooraclare, which was almost completely populated by Irish wizards.
Hermione drank more than she normally would have. She’d acquired a taste for Guinness after living with Seamus for so long, but she was rarely more than a one pint a night person. Even the alcohol wasn’t loosening the knots, and Fidelma raised an eyebrow when she asked the bartender for something a mite stronger than beer.
“Hermione, are you all right? Is something bothering you?” Fidelma looked at her carefully, noting that Hermione looked pale. She was quieter than she had been on previous visits.
“You need to eat, dear. You’re positively wasting away! And that Firewhisky won’t do you much good on an empty stomach.”
“I’m fine Mrs. Finnigan, really. Just working too hard these days, I think.”
Seamus reached out and took Hermione’s hand when she set her glass down. “Lass, I told you there was no need to be worried or nervous. Ma and Da aren’t going to take a switch to you. Well, not unless they catch you nicking the brown butter shortbread before dinner.”
Michael clapped his son on the shoulder and chuckled when Seamus winced. “What cookie jar did you get yer hand caught in son?”
“None, Da. That’s a precious piece of artwork ye bin punching.”
“Artwork? So you finally went ahead with it? Did you see Darragh like I told you?”
“Aye, that I did.”
“And?”
“It’s the lion, like we talked about.”
“Ah, the Lion of St. Mark. From the Eusebian illuminated page?” Seamus nodded in answer to his father’s question.
Fidelma turned to her husband and son. “What are you two nattering about over there? The Book of Kells is not your usual topic of conversation at supper.”
Michael laughed. “Your son, Fidelma, has gone and done something again.”
Hermione squeezed Seamus’ hand as he grinned broadly at the look on his mother’s face.
“You went to see Darragh? The artist here in the village?”
“Ma, I’m grown. And it’s only a tattoo.”
“Well, let’s see it then.”
Seamus pulled back the sleeve of his robes to reveal a lion on his upper arm. It was a dignified and magnificent creature – wings extended, tail wrapped alongside its back legs, and one enormous paw resting on an upright, open book.
“Why the lion, son?” Fidelma asked quietly.
Seamus shrugged. “For Gryffindor, partly.”
“Partly?” Michael asked.
Seamus turned to look at Hermione, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “And for Hermione. Since we’re getting married, I thought I should have a reminder of where we started.”
“Married?” Fidelma exclaimed.
“Well, if she’ll have me, that is.” Seamus kissed Hermione on the cheek softly.
She flushed and dropped her eyes to their intertwined fingers. Seamus dropped a small leather pouch into Hermione’s outstretched hand when she nodded. She opened the ties and tipped the ring back into Seamus’ hand. He slipped it on her finger and kissed Hermione soundly before she threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely.
“You’re the other half of my whole, Seamus. I couldn’t imagine a single day without you.”
Fidelma clapped her hands and signaled the bartender. “This is cause for celebration, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you both. When your father and I-”
Michael stopped his wife before she could finish her statement. “We’ll be here all night, with two weepy women, Seamus, if we’re not careful.”
Both men laughed out loud as Hermione and Fidelma fixed them both with a familiar disapproving glare.
myownmuggleRecipient:
luvscharlieTitle: A Witch, a Wizard, and a Lion
Pairing: Seamus/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 1325
Summary: Seamus fancied himself a ladies man, but what he really needed was her.
Author's Notes: I’m so happy I got a chance to write this for you. I think everyone needs his or her other half, and I hope you enjoy this!
Seamus Finnigan had always considered himself a bit of a ladies man – that is, he fancied a lot of different girls during his Hogwarts years, befriended a fair few of them, snogged not nearly enough of them, but never seemed to find that one perfect woman that was his other half. Until her.
She’d snickered, along with the rest of his Gryffindor housemates, when his attempt to turn a goblet full of water into rum had literally blown up in his face. Her laugh though, had carried above the others. He’d smiled impishly when she cast that very disapproving look that said she was Hermione Granger and she would have know better than to attempt such a silly spell. More likely, she would have been successful at it.
Seamus tucked away that look of hers and the sound of her laugh. Somehow after that, no one else quite measured up. He tried to forget her and when that failed miserably, he set about becoming her friend.
Nowadays, he considered himself a most fortunate man.
“A Sickle for your thoughts,” she whispered from behind him as she gently laid her hands on his shoulders.
Seamus shook his head and smiled as he turned around.
“I was just remembering our first days at Hogwarts and how you laughed at me in the Great Hall.”
Hermione laughed again, peal after peal, before looking Seamus in the eye, pursing her lips and trying without much success to glare disapprovingly.
“Ah lass, you’ve not lost yer touch. You just can’t resist me charms any more.”
“Is that what it is? I thought maybe you’d finally managed to work some kind of love spell on me.”
Seamus chuckled. “Even I know better than that, love. Now, I suppose you came in here to tell me something?”
Hermione nodded. “Of course. We’re meant to be having dinner with your parents tonight. Time you were getting changed so we’re not late.”
“I wasn’t the one that made us late to dinner with Ron and Luna, as I recall. Someone was locked in the bathroom with a bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion for half the day.” Seamus placed a hand over his bicep and jumped backwards when he saw the look in Hermione’s eye.
“Now lass, you know me tattoo is still healing. The wizard artist said to be gentle with it. Besides, you looked right beautiful when you were done with whatever you were doing in there.”
Seamus ducked as Hermione took a good-natured swing at him. She looked beautiful no matter what she did – bushy hair and all.
With Hermione’s prodding, they made it to Tubridy’s Pub in Cooraclare on time. She’d met Michael and Fidelma Finnigan years before. After the war of course, but not very long after she and Seamus had discovered they were more than just friends. Hermione Granger was rarely anything but confident – sure of herself and her intentions. Tonight, however, she was nervous. She’d faced hideously scary creatures, the likes of Dolores Umbridge and even Voldemort himself. Nothing she felt then compared to the knots currently twisting and turning in her stomach.
Seamus had insisted they travel by Side-Along Apparition, and though she disliked the sensation (finding it akin to the sea-sickness she suffered when her father had taken the family out on a boat on one of their vacations), she was glad she’d capitulated. Floo powder would have left her a dusty mess, and there had been no time to arrange for a Portkey.
Hermione’s stomach clenched and her chest tightened when she realized that the Finnigans had arrived before them. Fidelma’s eyes lit up when at the sight of her only son, and she smiled warmly when she saw Hermione with him.
“Ma, Da, you both remember Hermione, I think.”
“Of course. It’s a delight to see you, dear.” Fidelma’s voice was musical. Hermione returned the hug and kissed her on the cheek, hoping that the musical voice wouldn’t suddenly strike a sour tune when Seamus shared their news.
Michael Finnigan had ordered a round of drinks by the time they sat down. He spoke enthusiastically with his son, sharing the latest Muggle football scores and asking about his adopted Quidditch team, the Ballycastle Bats. For a Muggle who had been shocked to learn his wife was a witch, Michael had taken quickly to life in the wizarding world. With Voldemort’s downfall, he and Fidelma had finally resettled from their quiet Muggle village to Cooraclare, which was almost completely populated by Irish wizards.
Hermione drank more than she normally would have. She’d acquired a taste for Guinness after living with Seamus for so long, but she was rarely more than a one pint a night person. Even the alcohol wasn’t loosening the knots, and Fidelma raised an eyebrow when she asked the bartender for something a mite stronger than beer.
“Hermione, are you all right? Is something bothering you?” Fidelma looked at her carefully, noting that Hermione looked pale. She was quieter than she had been on previous visits.
“You need to eat, dear. You’re positively wasting away! And that Firewhisky won’t do you much good on an empty stomach.”
“I’m fine Mrs. Finnigan, really. Just working too hard these days, I think.”
Seamus reached out and took Hermione’s hand when she set her glass down. “Lass, I told you there was no need to be worried or nervous. Ma and Da aren’t going to take a switch to you. Well, not unless they catch you nicking the brown butter shortbread before dinner.”
Michael clapped his son on the shoulder and chuckled when Seamus winced. “What cookie jar did you get yer hand caught in son?”
“None, Da. That’s a precious piece of artwork ye bin punching.”
“Artwork? So you finally went ahead with it? Did you see Darragh like I told you?”
“Aye, that I did.”
“And?”
“It’s the lion, like we talked about.”
“Ah, the Lion of St. Mark. From the Eusebian illuminated page?” Seamus nodded in answer to his father’s question.
Fidelma turned to her husband and son. “What are you two nattering about over there? The Book of Kells is not your usual topic of conversation at supper.”
Michael laughed. “Your son, Fidelma, has gone and done something again.”
Hermione squeezed Seamus’ hand as he grinned broadly at the look on his mother’s face.
“You went to see Darragh? The artist here in the village?”
“Ma, I’m grown. And it’s only a tattoo.”
“Well, let’s see it then.”
Seamus pulled back the sleeve of his robes to reveal a lion on his upper arm. It was a dignified and magnificent creature – wings extended, tail wrapped alongside its back legs, and one enormous paw resting on an upright, open book.
“Why the lion, son?” Fidelma asked quietly.
Seamus shrugged. “For Gryffindor, partly.”
“Partly?” Michael asked.
Seamus turned to look at Hermione, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “And for Hermione. Since we’re getting married, I thought I should have a reminder of where we started.”
“Married?” Fidelma exclaimed.
“Well, if she’ll have me, that is.” Seamus kissed Hermione on the cheek softly.
She flushed and dropped her eyes to their intertwined fingers. Seamus dropped a small leather pouch into Hermione’s outstretched hand when she nodded. She opened the ties and tipped the ring back into Seamus’ hand. He slipped it on her finger and kissed Hermione soundly before she threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely.
“You’re the other half of my whole, Seamus. I couldn’t imagine a single day without you.”
Fidelma clapped her hands and signaled the bartender. “This is cause for celebration, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you both. When your father and I-”
Michael stopped his wife before she could finish her statement. “We’ll be here all night, with two weepy women, Seamus, if we’re not careful.”
Both men laughed out loud as Hermione and Fidelma fixed them both with a familiar disapproving glare.