"Too Close For Comfort" Susan/Seamus 7/13

[thanfiction.livejournal.com]

Title: Too Close For Comfort
Pairing: Susan/Seamus
Prompt: More Work For The Weary
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,000
Summary: Sometimes the most dangerous thing to have is a friend.
Author's Notes: Set in the DAYDverse, uses the canon of Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness and the sequel novel, Sluagh. Will 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

 

“Need some help?  The witches have kicked me out so they can talk.”  The blade of the shovel paused, half-buried in the heavy muck of the irrigation ditch, and Seamus cuffed the sweat from his eyes, squinting into the bright August sun as he recognized the familiar soft-spoken Yorkshire of his visitor. 

Neville was dressed for a visit, not heavy labor, but Seamus shrugged, bending down to lift a flat-edged spade and toss it over, any further welcome unneeded.  “Sure, long’s family life ain’t gotcha too cush.  Always more work for the weary ‘round here.”

“I think I’m okay,” he replied coolly, anchoring the spade in the earth and stripping off his outer robe and the neatly pressed shirt beneath.   Even through the undershirt, it was clear that his body was still as hard and strong as when it had been mail, not cotton he had worn, and the scarred face broke into a boyish chuckle at Seamus’ look of surprise.  “Hannah’s been on me that I can relax, but after…well, you know.  I don’t want to ever be caught having gone soft, especially now that I’ve got Peggy and Trev.” 

Neville paused a moment, hopping down into the ditch beside him, and the two wizards resumed the never-ending task of keeping the ditches clear of the clogging, accumulated mire as they talked.  “Ever bother you how old we actually are?  I suppose you could make a case for as old as forty-three.”

Seamus considered it a moment, jamming the edge of the shovel beneath a particularly stubborn clod and using his foot to lever beneath.  “Usually, I go with what’s on me birth certificate.  Keeps it easy.”  It finally came loose, but the sodden mass was heavier than he had expected and poorly balanced, sending a painful stab of protest through his body as he flung it over the edge.  He made a face, rubbing at the small of his back with deliberately exaggerated agony.  “Though at the moment, I’m for the forty-sommat.”

“Who’s gone soft now?”

“Doin’ fine for an old man, I am,” he tapped the flat plane of his stomach with his free hand, and Neville dipped his head, laughing as he conceded the point.

For a few more minutes, they worked on in comradely silence, then Neville spoke again, and this time, there was an oddly forced air of casualness to his tone.  “So, how are things up here?”

“Fine,” Seamus answered carefully. 

“Which means you still haven’t told her.”

So that was it.  He scowled, the shovel now jabbing into the thick mud so fiercely that the squelching strikes sounded almost like sounds of protest.  “No.”

“Seamus, you’ve been in love with her for over a year.” Neville pressed gently, but Seamus shook his head so harshly that a few strands of his ponytail clung to his sweat-slicked face, and he shoved them away, not caring about the streaks of mud he left in their wake. 

“Been over this, Fearless Leader,” he snapped.  “Ain’t told her, ain’t gonna.”

“What if she feels the same way?  Have you ever considered that?”

He didn’t look up, didn’t need to. “If she did, I ain’t never been nothin’ but single.  She’d be welcome to say so.”

“She’s single, too.” Neville caught his eye as he turned, and he never knew if it was maddening or wonderful that nothing had ever been able to fully strip the gentle optimism from that deep brown gaze.  “It’s been eight years.  He’s gone.”

“Ya seen her left hand lately?  S’always been how I check t’see if a bird’s single.”

“Still, you should –“

“Matter’s closed, Fearless Leader.” He flung another shovelful over the edge, but before the silence could grow too uncomfortable, he smiled again, deliberately changing the subject.  “I been itchin’ t’know, did ya pass your M.A.G.I.s?”

For a moment, it looked like the diversion would be argued, but then Neville nodded with a proud little smile of his own.  “Herbology, Charms, Defense Against The Dark Arts.”

“Brilliant, mate!” Seamus crowed, clapping his friend on the back in genuine congratulations. “Ya can go for the teachin’ cert now?”

“Just Herbology.  I’ve been exchanging owls with Sprout.  She’s willing to take me on as a teaching assistant starting in a year or two…” He went on eagerly, explaining about their old Professor’s intended retirement, his plans for eventually becoming a Professor at Hogwarts, and Seamus listened, honestly glad for the other man’s success, even as he was equally grateful that the other matter had been laid to welcome rest.  It was something that was hard enough to live with without having to talk about it. 

OOO

“Dear Merlin, what were you boys doing, mud wrestling?”  They had barely come through the door for dinner when they heard Hannah’s horrified exclamation, and Seamus chuckled, looking down ruefully at himself. 

“If ya mean were we wrestlin’ with mud, I’d say that’s fair ‘nuff.”

Susan had appeared at her friend’s side now, and Seamus kept his face carefully neutral as she laughed gently, knowing that Neville would be watching him with the keen eyes of someone who knew him what was at times far too well.  “Actually, Hannah, they’re reasonably clean.”

The small, rounded nose wrinkled as Hannah got close enough to catch a whiff of the sweat that mingled thickly with the mud itself, and she shoved back quickly from her husband’s attempts to greet her with a kiss, glancing incredulously at Susan.  “You mean….”

“You get used to it,” Susan shrugged.  “And there are always cleaning spells.  BOOTS!”

“Sorry!” Neville yelped, leaping back instantly onto the mat, and Seamus shot him an I-Warned-You look as he knelt, then looked up again, this time at Hannah.  “But I was wondering, dear, have you two had a nice talk?”

“Oh, very.” Hannah smiled, and there was something odd and secretive about it that made Seamus instantly suspicious.  He looked over at Fearless Leader, but there was nothing there to answer what it was, only a matching little smirk that if anything deepened the mystery.  “As a matter of fact,” she continued breezily, “I was about to ask the same thing.”

“Definitely.”  There was no mistaking the overdone casualness in Neville’s reply.  Susan, as well, seemed clearly aware that something was up between the couple, and he shrugged minutely, hoping she would understand that he was no more in on it than she. 

“I see.  Well, I wonder if it was the same kind of talk?”  Hannah turned to the other witch, her green eyes glittering triumphantly.  “Susan, wasn’t there something that you wanted to tell Seamus?”

The offhanded question dropped like a hex into the quiet hall, and Seamus actually fell back against the wall where he had begun to kneel, his heart clutched frozen in his chest as Susan spun, her eyes huge in what looked like equal parts shock and…guilt? 

“WHAT!?”

“Might have been, you know?  Because there’s something Seamus was going to tell Sue.” Neville nodded back to his wife as if there had been no outburst, no reaction at all, but his eyes were only on Susan, the shock having settled now into what was unquestionably blind panic for both of them.  Oh, sweet Mab, she knew.  She knew, because that bastard had told his wife, and she had told Sue, and now they were going to try and force it, and he would have to actually hear the awful words that had cut through his certainty so bloodily and so often actually come from those beautiful lips.  I’m sorry.  Just friends.  I thought you understood.  I still love him.  I wish you hadn’t.  Nothing against you, but you’re just not….

His jaw set, and he gathered himself, his hands fisting slowly as he turned to Neville, very real threat growling against the thinner edges of panic beneath his words.  “Don’t make me kill ya in front o’ your wife, Fearless Leader.  Dontcha do it.” 

“There…”  Susan’s voice was barely audible, a high, breathless gasp, and she took a deep breath, swallowing hard.  Her skin was the color of milk.  “I mean, is that true, Seamus?”

And there it was, and they were all looking at him, and if there had ever been a moment for him to show true, raw courage, to earn the scarlet and gold he had once worn, this was it. 

Except that he wasn’t brave, not really, not when the precious few bits of a heart he had salvaged from the wreckage of his life was on the line, but there was an oddly inspired kind of genius that came from true panic, and he blessed the quick tongue that had so often gotten him in so much trouble as he shrugged, grinning with every inch of easy charm he had ever possessed.  “Oh, aye, true enough, though it weren’t somethin’ I were plannin’ to say straight off.”

Susan still looked like she was about to faint, but now there was confusion there as well at his sudden change.  “What…what sort of thing?”

“Goats.”

Three mouths fell open, three voices chorusing incredulously, and oh, but it was a beautiful thing, and never had such a debt been owed whatever grand individual had ever brought the gift of blarney to the Emerald Isle.  “GOATS?!”

“Goats.  Cashmere goats.” He pushed the boots aside and stood, tucking his hands into his pockets as he leaned loosely against the closed door.  “I’ve been thinkin’, I have, though like’s I said, I ain’t worked out all the niggledy details, so I weren’t gonna say yet, but we’ve got ourselves a market established for wizardin’ textiles, but there’s startin’ to be some competition from some o’ the others what’re getting’ the hang o’ rearin’ Demiguise, so we need stay a step ahead, and if the Demiguise’re from the Himalayas and workin’ so well, what if we make a go o’ some Cashmere goats?  Same folk buy the high-end Marino’d be chompin’ for’t, ‘specially since we’d cut the import taxes for them.”

Susan gave a brittle-edged, manic little laugh, but it was a relief that bordered on tears as she surged forward, filth forgotten as she threw both arms around his neck, kissing his cheek so close to the edge of his lips that for one insane moment, he almost turned his head the fraction that would have been all that was needed to ruin everything.  “Seamus, that’s brilliant!”

“Susan, you –“  Hannah began, but Susan spun away from him, the formerly pale cheeks suddenly flushed as she waved a hand in firm dismissal. 

“Oh, there’s no need to get into all that.  What does it matter, really?  I mean, what’s good for the farm is good for the farm, isn’t that right?”

“Absolutely!” Seamus agreed fervently. 

“But, Susan –“ The look on Hannah’s face was something nearly betrayal, but Neville shook his head, stepping forward to take her hand with another deeply private exchange of glances, this one far more serious than the last.

 “Don’t, Hannah.  Just let it go.” There was no more levity, only an edge of sadness to his tone, and Hannah nodded back quietly, then sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“I just don’t --” she began, but Neville cut her off, one side of his mouth twisting into a vaguely bittersweet smile. 

“I know Hufflepuff women, and I know that particular Irishman.  Maybe we should be patient, it’s not our business in the end.”

“Well, of course it’s not your business,” Susan agreed defiantly, and Seamus could have kissed her all over again for the way her eyes shined, promising him that things hadn’t been ruined after all as she glanced back at him over her shoulder before turning her look back to their friends again.  “It’s Macmillan Fine Textiles, after all, and patience is quite required.  Do you have any idea what a mess it would be if we just waved our wands and summoned a hundred goats?” 

THE END

Comments

[vegablack62.livejournal.com]

Well that added some twists to the relationship. I like your portrayal of Seamus's and Neville's relationship and Hannah's and Susan's but best of all was the understanding between Seamus and Susan.

[ceirdwenfc.livejournal.com]

It's so sad when two people refuse to see what's right in front of them, and are afraid of the truth or afraid to venture forth into the unknown. It wastes so much time.

It also did want to make me cuff the two of them, though.

[roseandheather.livejournal.com]

GOATS????

Fail, Seamus. So much fail.

[chimbomba.livejournal.com]

HILARIOUS. What a riot. I loved how Seamus "saved the day", that had me in stitches! :D And I also really loved the way Susan and Seamus still came (somewhat) to the same conclusion in the end.

GOATS!!!

[supergreak.livejournal.com]

That will now be my awkward-conversation diffuser. WIN!

“Don’t make me kill ya in front o’ your wife, Fearless Leader. Dontcha do it.”