Who: Seamus Finnegan and Lenora Travers What: Aftermath of the Doomsday plan When: March 2, near midnight Where: Shay's house Status | Rating: Incomplete | high for language and probably smut
This was not how he imagined the end. Not that Shay ever really imagined the end, of course. He knew that, logically, there was a higher chance of them being killed or losing the war than winning, but picturing it was damn-near tempting fate. And while much of the Irish superstition was ruined by the truth of the magical world, there were some things the man’s soul clung to. All the theories about bad luck were one of them. And so he sat in his house while Neville and Nora planned whatever terrible next step their world was taking. He didn’t ask. He knew he didn’t want to know, in fact. Eventually, maybe, but right now he needed to think and try to brace himself for the way Nora would be after the meeting.
It had been jarring, to say the least, to find out that his girlfriend had secretly been in the resistance with him the whole time he worked for her. That she had been part of a more dangerous string of plans and ideas all while he laid next to her most nights. Of course, the man was not clueless to how dangerous she was. A few months ago, he walked in at the end of her murdering someone in the night after she closed down the Octopus without warning and had locked the building down. He had scaled the building, broke in, and then helped her dispose of a body with no questions asked. She was dangerous. She had killed. He knew that when they got together. And he had done so, as well, since.
But he learned the truth. That she had blackmail and secrets on most of the pure world, and that was her insurance. How she did what she could and was so hated. Why people came for her in the night. Why she was so jaded and quick to not trust people. He didn’t hate her for keeping the secret. He was upset, confused, and shocked. The man was always unsure and emotionally a wreck, even before the trauma of Hogwarts, and she had always pushed those buttons. But seeing it all had adjusted his misplaced worries and fears at bit. He understood, now, that it was not a matter of trust. It was a matter of fear and circumstance. Not knowing how to explain everything. And it had led to a few days of lancing old wounds and letting them drain as they suffered through old information they’d rather keep hidden. No more secrets.
Except this one.
He barely looked over at Nora when she entered the room, merely scooted further down the couch and spread his legs a bit as she came closer and sat on his lap. His hands loosely wrapped around her waste and one hand locked around his wrist. Shay exhaled and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Oi,” he muttered. “How’sit?”