Seamus Hanley Finnigan (drink_up) wrote in snitchers, @ 2017-07-19 13:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | char: seamus finnigan |
Who: Seamus Finnigan, a dementor, and some random strangers
Where: An inn north of Hogsmeade, then Clifden, then a ditch
When: Starting sometime after midnight, into early July 19th
What: Seamus has an unwelcome visitor, and then bad things happen
Rating: Warnings for mentions of violence, gore (both real and imagined), language.
Seamus hadn't been sleeping, or if he had, it was in fits and snatches between shifts at the pub and the new guide job he'd taken up. Now his spare hours were spent herding tourists around Galway. He'd given up nearly every aspect of magic not long after Dean was captured. The journal he used for communication, however sporadic, and he still planned to apparate if the situation called for it. Otherwise, he was living entirely as a muggle. As an unhappy muggle. The people closest to him were either in hiding, moving on with their lives, or like Dean, untouchable. Seamus was angry and lonely. Giving tours allowed him to connect, however briefly. He'd spent some time in Galway as a child, and so knew the streets and monuments and places to recommend.
There was really no good reason for him to be in Scotland mid-week, except that he'd had two days off in a stretch and wanted to be somewhere other than his empty bed. Anywhere near Hogwarts was probably a bad idea, but Seamus needed to see it. He'd kept to the edges of Hogsmeade, careful to stay unseen, wandering just far enough along the road to see the tower spires soaring in the distance, sunlight glinting off the tiles of the roof. So many of his memories from the school were good, up until the final year, in truth. The years prior had their darker moments - Umbridge, to be specific - and then at the end of sixth, the whole world started to fall to pieces. Back then, he'd still had Susan and Dean and Neville and Ginny, even when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone missing. He had the majority of Dumbledore's Army to fight alongside and give him courage.
Now that was all gone. Feeling no better than he had before, Seamus found a pub in a small village to the north of Hogsmeade and drank just enough to make himself sleep through the night. He didn't want to dream; most of the time, they were just nonsense, though more often than not, he woke from them reaching across an empty mattress.
That night, he sank into the slightly-too-soft surface and sighed heavily, flinging an arm over his eyes. Within minutes, he was asleep. His dreams started innocently enough: he was wandering the halls of Hogwarts, and though they were strangely empty, it was like going home. Everything was lit in soft gold, like a late summer evening. It was the most peaceful he'd felt since returning from abroad. The further he wandered, the darker the sky became. The temperature seemed to plummet. Seamus could see his breath on the air. He started to worry - where was everyone? Gooseflesh sprang up on his skin, and he huddled into his...school robes? Passing the Great Hall, he began to hear voices. Some sounded quite normal. Others, in the distance, were full of distress. Someone was begging, and then they were screaming. Seamus picked up the pace until he was jogging, up one flight of stairs, down a corridor -
- and into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, where Amycus Carrow was subjecting a second year to the Cruciatus Curse. This wasn't a dream at all; he'd lived it. He'd had enough - they had to be stopped, once and for all. Just as he had that day, Seamus rushed across the room, barreling straight into the Death Eater masquerading as their professor. It was so real. His elbows banged the stone floor hard enough to leave bruises. He yelled for Carrow to stop it, that he would burn in hell for his crimes, but it did nothing except earn him a curse to the face. Pain splintered across the ridge of his nose and he tasted blood in his mouth. He remembered being glad Dean wasn't there to see. Carrow hexed him repeatedly. Seamus eventually lost consciousness. Susan and Hannah had found him sometime later and taken him to the Room of Requirement. It wasn't long after that that the Trio had returned. Like Neville, he was barely recognizable.
The scene shifted to the Final Battle, where Seamus fought beside his friends, doing his best to keep them safe. So many people were dying, though. People he'd known nearly half his life. He ran back toward the castle, but in his haste, tripped over something. Seamus rolled onto his hip and vomited as soon as he saw the mangled corpse that had been his downfall. He scrambled backwards away from it, pointedly ignoring the warmth of blood seeping into his trouser leg.
There, things changed a bit. When all was over and he was showered, bandages on the worst of his wounds and a pain potion numbing some of the effect, Seamus made his way to Gryffindor tower and crawled into bed. Dean was there. Seamus snuggled in close, closing his eyes and breathing in the familiar smells. It was a comfort, to know that something of that still remained. He was so cold, and Dean so warm. The warmth was sticky and the scent of copper drowned everything out. Seamus sat up, heart pounding, breath coming in short gasps. It was early morning and the bedroom was that at the house in Clifden. Maybe Dean hadn't been captured...
The sticky warmth was blood. So much blood. It was the mangled corpse all over again, but it was Dean. His eyes were open and glazed. Seamus choked on a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a retch. The sheets and pillows were stained with it. Red was splashed all down the front of Seamus's t-shirt and boxers. And Dean was gone, his throat and torso torn open. Seamus touched a quaking hand to the side of Dean's face and felt it cold. "No," he cried, "please, no. Oh god." He couldn't get enough air. The little oxygen that made it to his lungs was icy. "Dean. Dean, please." Tears began to fall freely and great, rib-cracking sobs ripped their way from his chest. He couldn't function, just cradled Dean's head in his arms and wept, rocking uselessly back and forth.
At some point, he pulled away. Dean had become Susan, the same wounds inflicted, leaving the same horrible, yawning void behind Seamus's sternum. He had to get up. To get out.
Seamus flailed out, coming to full wakefulness in a small room in Scotland. His sheets were soaked with sweat. His teeth were chattering. And there was a dementor hovering a foot away. He shouted a curse and grabbed his wand off the nightstand. Nausea had his stomach roiling. Several tries at producing a Patronus failed. He bolted off the bed, snatched up what few belongings he'd brought, and disapparated, reappearing in the kitchen of his home in Clifden.
The clothes he'd slept in were drenched. He needed a shower and a shave, but one of those would have to wait. Walking through the bedroom, Seamus pointedly ignored the bed. He couldn't look at it. Just being near it was setting his nerves on edge. The shower was set to its hottest point and still he was cold. He scrubbed at his arms and chest until they were bright red, trying to remove dream-blood. It was just too bad he couldn't scour the inside of his head. A few hours on the bike might help. He dressed in thick jeans, boots, and a leather jacket before he climbed on, but even though he knew he shouldn't, Seamus jumped the bike to the nearest stretch of open, straight highway so that he could open it up.
It was a warm day - warmer than average for Ireland - and the wind on his face was pleasant. He kept his eyes focused on the road and his mind carefully blank. Maybe by the time he reached Dublin, he would feel human again. He desperately wanted to see Dean. To hold him or to be held, so that he could come apart in safety and comfort instead of alone.
He might've known it wouldn't last. There was a dangerous clanking somewhere beneath him. The bike shuddered, and he barely kept it upright. Then it happened again, too quickly for Seamus to hit the brakes or course-correct. When the motorcycle started to skid sideways, Seamus threw a leg out. It was the first thing to break, but not the last as bike and rider hit the pavement. Seamus's journey ended in the ditch, with him lying on his back in soft grass, eyes wide and fixed on the blue sky above. There was a buzzing in his ears. He couldn't think or breathe or move. He couldn't feel his legs, and he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't left bits of himself on the road. That he'd survived it at all was a miracle. If someone didn't find him soon, it might be for naught. It might be all right, though. Susan wouldn't have to worry anymore, and Dean...he loved Dean. Maybe Dean would be okay. He was the best of them all, Seamus thought.
It was the last thing that crossed his mind before darkness took him.
A short while later, an older couple came across him while driving to the city. They called an ambulance and got the 'poor young man' to the hospital.