InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Mom, I want some milk."

Seamus Finnigan (openbottle) wrote in finnigans_rpg,
@ 2015-05-03 09:38:00

Entry tags:

character: dean thomas, character: gwenog jones, character: seamus finnigan, character: susan bones, character: tristan travers, journal: battlescars

Battlescars: Veterans
Who: Open to anyone willing to sign a confidentiality agreement
What: Battlescars meeting
Where: Finnigan's, The Den
When: Sunday 3rd May
Rating: SFW for now

"Welcome," Seamus said, standing behind his seat in the circle after the door had closed. There was a bigger crowd than usual, which he'd expected, and though he'd explained the confidentiality agreement to anyone he didn't recognise as a regular attendee, he still started off with a speech about Battlescars, its history and its rules - that many people in the room had heard nearly word-for-word before. "Today's going to be a little bit different," he said. "I asked people to write in with their memories of the Battle, or their feelings or thoughts. I've had quite a few people do that, and I've chosen three to read. After that, I'll open up the floor for anyone else to read something they've brought, and we'll finish with half an hour or so just of general discussion for anything anyone wants to say." He sat down, the room even more hushed than it usually was, and picked up a journal from the floor by his chair. It looked like any of the normal journals, except that the cover was soft grey instead of shades of brown.

"All three entries I've chosen came in anonymously," he said - flipping the journal open to the right page and taking a deep breath before he began reading. "I don't have any memories of the battle. I hate Victis Honor day because I wasn't at the battle. I wasn't allowed to be, because I have no magical parents. When Voldemort took over and announced that muggleborns were no longer welcome, I decided not to listen. I tried to go to school and continue my education, an education I deserved as much as any pureblood student. I was captured by snatchers right on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. They took my wand and locked me up. Eventually, they decided I wasn't a threat and they let me go - but they didn't give me back my wand. When I heard about the battle, I couldn't get to it. I let other people fight my battle for me. People who didn't need to. People who Voldemort would have allowed to go on with their lives if they'd wanted to. Some of those people died. Too many of those people died, and I was safe at home. I know I should honour them for what they did, but I can't get past the fact that I wasn't allowed to do it for myself. If I tried to go to school on September 1st, maybe I'd still have had my wand on May 2nd. Maybe I'd have died for my own cause, or saved someone who shouldn't have had to."

When he came to the end of the first reading, Seamus paused - taking a sip of the water he'd brought with him from the bar. "I'd rather we not talk about these now," he added. "You'll see why at the end - so I'll just go straight on."

He turned the page to the next entry he'd copied into the grey-skinned journal - one he thought he knew the author of. "I've lost too many of my boys to war. Brothers, sons, friends and nearly my husband. Though I didn't fight in the first war, I lived through it and I think I know enough to say that there's really no difference. War is always war. It's always death and pain and fear and heartbreak. You lose people. You lose pieces of yourself. Every year we honour those people - and every year we move a little further on. Every year we get a little closer to being whole again. It's not disrespect or disloyalty. It's the way the world is. We don't love those we've lost any less because we live our lives to the full now, nor because we cherish the friends and family we still have. This weekend I'll think about the past - about the boys I lost - but next weekend I'll think about the future. The grandchildren I might yet live to have. And even if I don't, someone will. Some already have. There's a new generation who've lived seven years without a war. I hope they'll live seven more, and another seven after that. I hope the only experience they have with war is old songs and old stories and standing at memorials for a battle they never have to see up close."

After another sip of water, Seamus' eyes sought out Dean. He was one of the few people Seamus was absolutely certain he hadn't had an anonymous contribution from, and thus one of the only people whose eyes it was 'safe' to meet right now. When he felt ready, he cleared his throat and turned the page. "This last one is quite long," he said. "I'm not going to read all of it, but you will have a chance to read it later. Dominic and I have made this," he tapped the back of the journal. "It's a special journal, just for battlescars members who've signed an additional - more permanent - confidentiality contract. Anyone can make an entry at any time, and it won't say who wrote it unless you want it to. It will only be published to other people who've agreed to be part of the group, and they'll be able to comment - anonymously or not." Seamus could feel his voice starting to get hoarse, but he continued despite that.

"When you're in a war, you don't always know you're on the wrong side, not if you believe in what you're doing. I'm not saying I believed in what I was doing, but I was young and naive, and, while I should have known better, I didn't. Not when it was presented to me in a shiny package and in such a way that it didn't appear bad or wrong. Sometimes you get swept up in thinking you're doing good because everyone around you has such faith that you are. No one presented it as a negative. No one ever said, "We are the bad guys, the villains, and we will do villainous things because that is what we are." That only happens in really bad stories, and while this story was bad, it wasn't poorly written with caricatures of people portraying the antagonists.

"I didn't set out to be a bad guy. I wanted to help people, believe it or not. And I was proud in a way I shouldn't have been, in the way teens often are. They think they're invincible, and while I didn't think I was immortal, I thought I was above certain things and would be able to tell what was what. By the time I actually could tell what was what, it was too late."

Seamus paused when he came to the mark he'd made for himself last night, when he'd decided where to cut this particular submission off. It wasn't that the rest wasn't worth reading, nor was it too uncomfortable (though it was certainly intense). No, Seamus's reasoning was that the author might well be in the room, and might not want to have to watch a crowd of people react to his nightmare experiences being read aloud. "I'm going to end it there. There's a lot more - I'd definitely encourage you to read it." He gulped down more water and then smiled, looking around the room. "Anyone else want to read something to save my voice?"

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	IC Responses openbottle 2015-05-03 08:40 am UTC (link)
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Gwenog Jones

haveyoumet_
2015-05-03 08:50 pm UTC (link)

Gwenog, who never usually came to Battlescars looked around at the evasive faces all around rolled her eyes, standing up and started reading from the piece she'd written when she saw Finnigan's request. She'd almost sent it in anonymously, but in the end she figured she'd just come and read it out.

"Hi. For those who don't know me I'm Gwenog Jones and I play for the Holyhead Harpies. What you might not know is that I'm mugglborn and when I first arrived at Hogwarts the Wizarding World was at war with Voldemort for the first time. I don't know if anyone else here is old enough to remember any of that war but I do. I never got to fight in any direct way. What I was fighting was my own housemates, many of whom had family who were Death Eaters, or believed in the same cause. What I had to do was get good at hexes quickly, and be good with a punch or a kick because blood supremacists never seemed to expect it. I was a tough kid, always had been, but I thought when I left the muggle world with its huge prejudice against the colour of my skin I'd be free of persecution for things I couldn't help. Turned out I was wrong and instead people wanted to hate me for not having the right parents.

"Those first two years in the Wizarding world were hard because I had to watch what I did and what I said while trying to learn the rules that I didn't understand. It made me a stronger person, it made me ready to fight, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

"I thought we were free of Voldemort, I thought we were making progress towards a society where my blood status mattered as little as the size of my feet. It turned out I was wrong and this time I wasn't afraid for me. I was afraid for my family. For all of my family with no magic who might be captured or killed. So I sent them away. I made them leave as soon as I knew he was back. As soon as I saw the chaos at the World Cup I started planning. As soon as it was definite I dropped out of the league and into the muggle world. My family was safe overseas but I had to protect the people around me that couldn't protect themselves.

"I played to my strengths. I flew and I transfigured. I hid myself in plain sight and I flew night patrols over Wales. I lived as a muggle. I never went to the battle at Hogwarts, I didn't know it was happening. I was evading Snatchers and checking on the families of muggleborns and walking down the main road in Llandidrod Wells on my way to a car. And I want to thank everyone who saved my world from darkness in whatever way. Even if that was a moment of doubt at a time that meant someone got spared, or less hurt. I'm not a fan of people who disparage my blood status, that believe they're better than me because of who their parents were, but then again I never have been. I grew up in a world that hated me for that and got thrust right into another one.

"How do I cope? I work to prove them wrong in as many ways as I can. I am good at my job, and show people there are other options. And I always fight, I fight for people who are put down in any way, and I will fight until there is no fight left in me, and then it's time to call in one last favour. After all I was put in Slytherin for a reason."

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Dean

artistdean
2015-05-04 10:53 pm UTC (link)

Dean looked at Gwenog sitting down, so poised and so defiant and he wondered if he could even get up the courage to stand. There were extra people here today, there often were at this time of year, and even though he knew everyone had signed the confidentiality agreement he couldn't help but be nervous. He'd written down what he wanted to say, but he had a feeling it wouldn't go quite as he'd planned it. How he'd written it was pretty dry and it had skimmed so many of the personal details, so he'd written heading instead, things that he could talk around. He'd kept the text though, because there was every possibility he'd get lost. He took a shaky breath and took to his feet, eyes fixed on his parchment, even though he wasn't quite seeing it.

"My memories of the battle at Hogwarts aren't all that reliable now. I've had dreams and nightmares about them so many times I'm not one hundred percent sure what's real and what my mind has constructed to smooth over the gaps. I know that up to the point I arrived my war was unique, and I don't just mean that because I think I'm a special wand spark or something, I mean my set of circumstances aren't the same as anybody else's. I ran away for my seventeenth birthday because I could see what was coming. I grew up as a muggle, didn't find out that my father was a wizard until years too late for it to matter. I hid in forests and sometimes muggle towns, and I befriended other wizards I ran across, and goblins too. It wasn't easy. One of my new friends was killed letting me get away, meaning that I'm standing here now.

"I did get captured eventually, by Snatchers, but it turned out that they captured Harry, Ron, and Hermione right after my group and by the time we were rescued and went into hiding I had no wand. I know that much. I know that rescuing us from the hands of Death Eaters cost the life of a good being, and the torture of a brilliant witch, and the lies of someone unexpected." He could feel the threat of tears already and the tightness in his throat, but he had to go on.

"My nightmares started when I was in hiding, before the battle even begun. I had no wand and no contact with the people I loved and nothing to do but relive what I'd seen. And that was more than enough for one life already. It didn't stop me wanting to fight though, didn't stop me wanting to change the world. I was like Jones over there, I'd come from a world that didn't approve of my skin colour into one that didn't approve of my blood and I can't help either. I like to think if I was in the muggle world I'd be fighting there too, but I'll never know that because this is my world."

He pressed his lips together for a second and glanced around the room, eyes lingering for a few seconds on Seamus and briefly on some of his other friends. "When I arrived at Hogwarts it was the first time since August that I knew for sure that some of my friends were still alive. Already by then I don't think any of us were the people we'd been before. And that's where it starts to get really uncertain. I know I punched people, kicked people, killed people. I know I got a wand from someone in a mask that I at least knocked out. I know I did some of it with my best friend at my side. I remember being terrified. I remember not knowing if I'd survive the next five minutes never mind the night. There were spells flying everywhere and I lost my friends at some point. I know the place where I'd learned about my world was falling around my feet and that the place I'd assumed at eleven was the safest place in the world because there were wizards to defend me was being torn apart because people are just people and they can't leave each other in peace." Tears were welling in his eyes now, and he was gasping at each breath. Vaguely he saw some people making motions towards him but he brushed them away with a gesture.

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Dean

artistdean
2015-05-04 10:53 pm UTC (link)

"I play that night over and over in my mind when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. I hear the voice of Voldemort in my head demanding my friend sacrifice himself, I see the faces of people I knew blank of life, killed for what they believed. I can't go into crowds any more. I can't go to a quidditch match or a football match. I hex anyone that comes up behind me and touches me. I take potions every day because I had to fight a war before the muggle world would call me an adult and it changed everything. Some nights I can't sleep and I bake, and some nights I wake up because I think I'm back there again and I paint everything I saw, everything I dreamed and it doesn't help. Some nights I take a potion to make me sleep and I feel numb. I burn candles to remind me I'm not where I was in my dreams. I swim to exhaust my body and my mind." He was crying now, sucking in snotty breaths.

"And this is my better. To start with I was worse. I couldn't sleep without screaming, I couldn't eat without feeling sick, I felt angry or I felt numb. I don't know who I was before the war because fuck knows I wasn't this. I didn't dream about a man sacrificing himself for my life, or house elves with knives sticking out of them, or the screams of my friends being tortured and killed. I didn't see dead bodies in my dreams, or have werewolves chase me in my nightmares. But I cope because I have to, and I cope because I've had help and had distance, and worked out all the things I shouldn't do because of what they'll do to me. It's not perfect, but when you've seen the magical new world you discovered at eleven literally fall apart around you I don't think it ever will be again." He sat down and buried his face in his hands, crying. He wanted to go, wanted to leave and get away but he couldn't move any more, his body racked with sobs.

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Dean and Seamus and Susan

openbottle
2015-05-05 08:19 am UTC (link)

For a moment after Dean finished, Seamus was paralysed. He didn't know who to be - Seamus who lead Battlescars and had a responsibility to this entire group, or Seamus who was Dean's best mate. The first felt like a bad act and the second didn't feel like enough. It was far from the first time someone had broken down in Battlescars, but usually they'd had a friend close by who could wrap an arm around them and offer them a tissue. Seamus knew if anyone tried to sling an arm around Dean's shoulders right now, he'd probably go into a full on PTSD episode.

Without ever consciously making a decision, Seamus found he'd stood and crossed the circle to kneel at Dean's feet, his fingers wrapped around whatever bit of Dean he could reach - one knee and one elbow. "Hey," he said. "Look at me." Just like that, he had a better idea of what to do and had forgotten that everyone was likely watching them. "Do you need to go upstairs? There's one of your candles by my bed." Seamus had 'borrowed' it the night before in a failed and futile attempt to get some sleep.

What he really wanted to take Dean upstairs himself, to make sure he was okay, but he knew he couldn't, not right now. Dean wasn't the only one who needed a chance to speak today - and Seamus didn't feel like he could leave. He glanced across at Susan, silently asking if she'd be okay to take Dean upstairs, if that was what Dean wanted.

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Dean and Seamus and Susan

susanamybones
2015-05-05 08:40 am UTC (link)

Susan watched Dean's speech quietly, touched by his bravery to come forward and speak so candidly about his experiences. She also knew that he was very close to breaking point, what with all the memories he'd brought to the surface.

The moment that Dean sat down and Seamus got up to comfort him, she quietly got to her feet and hovered back, waiting for the Seamus to look at her, because they both knew he couldn't take Dean up by himself - not when there were other people who needed to talk. She met his eyes and nodded, moving to stand at a comfortable distance from Dean. "Come on Dean," she said quietly, offering a hand. "Let's take you upstairs, yeah?"

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Dean and Seamus and Susan

artistdean
2015-05-05 08:32 pm UTC (link)

Dean sensed more than saw Seamus moving towards him. Actually he wasn't really aware that it was Seamus as such until he spoke, he just knew that the person wasn't a threat. The touch was so gentle that he didn't really flinch, but for some reason it made him cry all the harder. He couldn't help but look up into Seamus' eyes though when he asked him to. He swallowed, trying to open his mouth to speak but he couldn't do it and instead he just nodded. Upstairs was safe and he had extra calming potion there. Actually he had some in his pocket too, that he hadn't taken because he was an idiot and didn't want to be spaced out.

He looked helplessly at Susan and reached for her hand, letting her pull him to his feet. This was the time he was incredibly thankful she was far stronger than she looked.

He stood for a moment, indecisive, tears still on his face, and then yanked Seamus to his feet and gave him an incredibly tight hug, his breath stuttering somewhat as he clung on for several seconds. Then all of a sudden he was letting go and making a beeline for the door, almost knocking into a couple of people and not waiting for Susan so nobody would see a resurgence of his sobs.

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Dean and Seamus and Susan

openbottle
2015-05-05 09:21 pm UTC (link)

Seamus sat back and rested his hands on his own thighs as Susan approached and hauled Dean to his feet. He was just preparing to get up when Dean was suddenly there, pulling him up and wrapping his long arms around him. It was as sudden and disorientating as Dean's bursts of anger, though once Seamus had got over his shock he'd admit that the results were definitely better.

Once he'd got to grips with the situation, he hugged Dean back hard. Dean's words brought back painful memories for Seamus too - brought back the choking anxiety he'd had to live with that year when he hadn't known if Dean were dead or alive. He had to push it all away, shove it down somewhere it wouldn't get in the way, because he still had a job to do. He had to make his contribution to the rebuilding of the wizarding world, and to the people in this room who hadn't made it to 'better' yet. When Dean practically ran off, Seamus took a deep breath and looked to Susan. "I'll be up when we're done here." He wouldn't hurry the meeting. He'd always let meetings run long on this particular weekend ever year - and it wasn't as if Dean was alone right now.

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Dean and Seamus and Susan

susanamybones
2015-05-07 01:16 pm UTC (link)

Susan watched impassively as Dean embraced Seamus in a bone-splitting hug. She didn't particularly care what anyone else in the room thought, but she could well imagine what would be said later on. Still, Dean and Seamus hadn't carried on their ... whatever it was that they had between them for as long as they had by caring what people thought of them. As suddenly as he'd launched into the hug, Dean let go, and was nearly out the door before Susan could hurry after him. She paused and patted Seamus on the arm. "I'll look after him," she replied simply, then hurried after her friend.

She stepped into Seamus' flat and looked around, finding Dean curled up as tightly as possibly on the sofa. "Dean," she said quietly, sitting down next to him on the sofa - near enough to be comforting but far enough away to not freak him out with an unsolicited touch. "I'm here now, Seamus will be up as soon as the meeting is over." She pulled out her wand and summoned one of Dean's candles, knowing that there'd be one somewhere in the flat. After several seconds she was relieved to see it zooming towards her. She lit it and then reached hesitantly towards her friend. "Would you like a hug? Or I could sing to you I suppose?"

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Re: Dean and Seamus and Susan

artistdean
2015-05-07 08:15 pm UTC (link)

Dean had taken the most direct route possible to the flat and flung himself at the nearest comfortable surface: the sofa. But he didn't want to see the outside world right now, so he'd curled himself up as tightly as possible, back to the cushions, ignoring the fact he was still wearing his boots. He was shivering slightly whether from mental exertion or the physical effects of his crying he didn't know. Possibly it was both.

He was very aware now though, knowing that only good friends would be able to reach him helped his comfort levels, but the relative quiet and lack of people also heightened his sense. He knew it would be Susan following him, and felt the sofa shift as she sat down in the leftover space. Her presence alone was a help, knowing it wasn't anyone he felt ill at ease with. At Susan's question he sniffled loudly and held out a hand, reaching for her. He didn't really want to uncurl enough for a hug just yet, but holding her hand would be good. "No singing," he croaked, throat raw. He could see the flicker of the candle from under the arm that was still around his head, but he knew the smell would take a little while to spread. "Box?" he asked, not sure where his self-care box was, especially if Seamus had borrowed his candle.

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Re: Dean and Seamus and Susan

susanamybones
2015-05-20 10:48 pm UTC (link)

Susan repressed a wildly inappropriate smile at the way Dean thrust his hand at her, choosing instead to simply take his hand and ignore the comment about not singing - though she filed it away in her arsenal to be used in a joke at some distant point in the future. She sighed minutely at his rather plaintive request, but nevertheless complied. The box soared into the room from Seamus's bedroom, and she fussed over it for a moment before turning back to her friend.

"Right, it's here now," she said, gently settling herself next to him and placing a hand on his side. Past experience told her that it was important to anchor him, so she took a deep breath and turned to look at him. "Did I tell you I saw my parents yesterday? I went down to Rosethorn Hall yesterday and spent about forty minutes getting a tour of the garden. Very boring. I'm thinking of dragging you and Seamus and Lucy and Dennis up there, what do you think hmmm?" She looked at him, and waited for his response - knowing she could change her approach depending on his reaction.

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Re: Dean and Seamus and Susan

artistdean
2015-05-21 02:24 pm UTC (link)

Dean's grip on Susan's hand was maybe a touch tight and frantic, but it was exactly what he needed right now and he knew she wouldn't mind. It was going to take a little while for the ocean smell from his candle to permeate the room, but the flicker of flame was reassuring.

He listened to her voice washing over him, and while he was listening to what she was saying he wasn't paying all that much attention, just appreciating the sound of her voice, her gentle touch. He hummed in agreement at her suggestion of taking people up to the Hall, it had been quite some time since she'd dragged people up there. He was trying to slowly deepen his breathing because it was calming to him. He uncurled his other arm so his face was visible again, tear tracks and all. He took a shuddering breath and looked up at her from where his head was curled near her thigh. "Shouldn't have done that without extra potion," he said quietly, voice tinged with exhaustion. Even his potions couldn't mask all the emotions that this time of year brought up. He should get his spare out and take it, even if it was likely to send him to sleep.

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Re: Dean and Seamus and Susan

susanamybones
2015-05-21 07:54 pm UTC (link)

She pushed down the urge to flex her hand and simply allowed him to crush it. She gave a minute sigh and cast a glance at the candle, knowing the scent would soon cover the room and he'd release his death grip.

She watched him minutely as she spoke, nodding in approval as he began to react to her inane prattle. Then, he looked at her, and she reached down to stroke his hair idly. "No, you shouldn't have," she replied with a smile. "But then, neither of my boys are very good at taking care of themselves at this time of year." She tilted her head and looked at him seriously for a moment. "Do you want me to get one for you?" Not waiting for an answer, she reached for her bag and rifled around for a moment before bringing out one of his potions and handing it to him. "Do you need anything else with it?"

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Re: Dean and Seamus and Susan

artistdean
2015-05-21 08:36 pm UTC (link)

His hand relaxed slowly as the smell spread and he relaxed more in general. He wished faintly it was Seamus up here not Susan. Not that he didn't love her like a sister... but Sesamus pretty much trumped all other options. At least he'd be along later.

He shrugged slightly at her assertion. Not that it wasn't true, but it was also vaguely irritating to be reminded. He opened his mouth to tell her not to bother finding some potion, but she was already rooting around in her bag. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and shuffled himself around slightly to get the vial he'd brought with him from the pocket of his jeans. "Snap," he said, holding his in one hand and the one she handed him in the other. He handed hers back to her, not really that surprised she had it in her bag. She'd probably snaffled it from the box he kept at her house. "I shouldn't take both. And I should take my boots off," he said groaning slightly before levering himself up to do just that. "I'll probably fall asleep," he warned. If he'd got angry it would have just calmed him down but the emotional exhaustion tended to just combine and make him drift off. And that had been a huge outpouring. He could still feel it all through his body.

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Re: Dean and Seamus and Susan

susanamybones
2015-06-07 05:15 pm UTC (link)

Susan snorted at Dean's words and accepted her potion back. "I had a couple made, just in case," she explained with a delicate shrug. She settled back on the sofa, nodding tiredly at his words. "Yes, we don't really want to have to bring in a draught of the living dead to wake you up," she agreed, before chuckling quietly at his efforts to take his boots off. "You could've just asked me you know, taking a man's boots off isn't demeaning in a situation like this. She nodded again, and shrugged. "Sleep is the first door darling, I don't mind." She shifted slightly and stroked his forehead for a moment, before fishing her book out of her bag.

She wasn't entirely sure how long she'd been reading when Seamus finally appeared. She looked up and smiled tiredly. "And there he is," she said by way of greeting. "How was the rest of the meeting?"

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Re: Dean and Seamus and Susan

openbottle
2015-06-08 01:31 pm UTC (link)

Seamus had done his best to corral the rest of the meeting into some sort of order after Dean left. It hadn't been easy. Some of the infrequent or new attendees had found Dean's story, or his reaction to telling it, overwhelming. Seamus had had to silently plead with some of his more regular and vocal members to pick up where the meeting had left off - which meant quite a lot of discussion of the Room of the Requirement in seventh year, and the battle. Seamus hadn't spoken of his own experiences, but that didn't mean there hadn't been memories brought back by the words of others.

Finally, there had been questions about the journals, the new anonymous system, how it would all work. Though a few people (Neville, Ernie) had tried to give Seamus the space to get away, he hadn't taken the opportunity. He'd stayed until the last member was ready to leave and had then made sure his bar staff and his chef knew that Sunday 'lunch' was available all day today. Only once he'd set the last of his obligations to rest did he hurry up the stairs, pushing his hair out of his face and trying not to look worried. "Hey," he said, giving Susan a smile that was grateful, questioning and anxious all at once. "It was good, I think. As good as today can be."

Once again, Seamus chose to slide to the floor by Dean's seat. He was breathing slow and deep, his eyes closed. Not wanting to wake him, Seamus just slid one hand over one of Dean's as he let his body slump against the side of the sofa. "Sorry," he said, looking up at Susan. "I should have brought food. You must be starving." When he could be bothered to move, he'd go get something from the pub - though he didn't feel hungry himself. He narrowed his eyes a little as his gaze darted over Susan's face. "You okay? You didn't get a chance to speak."

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