Roses are red, violets are blue... something something whiskey [Seamus]

“Oh Merlin.  I keep feeling like they expect us to perform a trick or something.”  She whispered conspiratorially to Seamus, nodding towards the latest set of curious eyes cast their way.  With a playful nudge of his shoulder she added, “Think you could manage a cartwheel?”  Susan gave a soft, short laugh before falling silent again.  Smiling and laughing were things that she was still getting used to doing more often, such outbursts being rare in the past.  Seamus was largely responsible for this change, thanks to the influence of his easy-going sense of humour.  Slowly, as they spent more time together, she was learning to be a little less serious. 

It hadn’t been until the party reached full swing that Susan realised it was their first time out in front of their friends as a couple; evidently making them somewhat of an spectacle.  The red-head tried her best not to feel self-conscious but couldn’t shake the awareness that their fresh new relationship was under the scrutiny of others.  It embarrassed her to realise that she hadn’t given her status with Seamus much thought but after several months and multiple dates it seemed undeniable that they were ‘dating’.  Despite having contrived for years to be too busy for much socialising, Susan had somehow managed to find time around her busy work schedule to get herself a boyfriend.  It was weird, but a good weird, she thought.  Probably.  Maybe?

Susan knew it was best not to overthink things, yet faced as they were now with other more openly affectionate couples at the party, it was hard not to draw comparisons and wonder whether she was underperforming as a girlfriend.  The hugs, kisses and little affectionate touches the others shared – would Seamus think she didn’t like him because she didn’t do those things?  Realising that she was gnawing anxiously on her own lip, the 22-year-old took a hasty gulp of her drink and almost choked.  Looking over at Seamus she smiled nervously, tucked a stray lock of hair back behind one ear and hoped he hadn’t noticed anything amiss.  There was a part of her that just wanted to ask (with her usual delicate bluntness) what he thought about the progression of their relationship – but another part of her was too scared about what his answer would be. 

There had once been a time when she'd been the kind of girl to paint her nails, plait flowers in her hair and daydream idly about romance, but those days were before and felt like a lifetime ago.  Susan as she was now did not know how to be close to someone – or if she even could.  If there was any chance though, surely it was with Seamus, who seemed to understand a little of how the trauma of the past had changed her.  So she did her best to try. 
 
Should I hold his hand?  Susan’s eyes lingered briefly on where Seamus’ fingers rested just a short distance away.  Do I want to hold his hand?  No clear answers came to mind.  Susan sipped her drink as she tried to think her way around this dilemma.  Having only two hands, giving one up to Seamus seemed like it would turn into a logistical nightmare in which she would be forced to juggle all of her food and drink one-handed.  It didn’t really make any sense on a practical level.  Plus what if she needed to use her wand quickly?  She would lose valuable seconds of reaction time having to extricate herself from his grip.  It wasn't like Death Eaters were going to burst through the door at any second…  Still, Susan would hate to caught off guard if they did.  Clearly this was not a very normal way of thinking though; to link the act of holding hands with her boyfriend with a reduced capacity to defend herself against a hypothetical attack by a dark wizard. 

Both hands kept resolutely on the table before her, Susan struggled to find something to say.  Something normal.  The usual morbid and almost philosophical topics they sometimes discussed did not seem appropriate for the context.  Dean’s birthday party was not the place to air out their war wounds.  “You did a good job with this,” she offered a genuine compliment and a small smile.  It wasn’t a fancy event, being only in the Hogs Head after all, but it was still quite nice.  Simply convincing Aberforth to let them have the place for the night would’ve been an achievement in itself.  “You’re a good friend,” Susan added after a moment, “Dean is lucky to have you.”

Seamus snickered a little bit— in Hogwarts he’d had a pretty nifty trick of popping his elbow out, which he doubted anybody wanted to see now, and his gymnastic talents didn’t go much further than that. “I can try for a somersault,” he said anyway. How hard could it be? He was short.

Being out with Susan, and also everybody else he knew, was a different beast than being out with just Susan. Seamus had never been one for dating— too busy being an idiot, and then too busy being an Auror-in-training, and then too busy being a disaster— and having a girlfriend in public was simultaneously daunting and entirely underwhelming. He’d worried at first that she’d ramp up the dating thing once other people could see them— was he going to have to hold her hand and kiss her every time she talked?— but, fortunately, she seemed about as interested in that as he was.

Susan almost choked on her drink; Seamus gave her an understanding (but amused) grin and patted the table a little restlessly. She covered up a moment later, with a tentative compliment. “Thanks,” he said, a little embarrassed for no reason. “Feels like I should have bought tinsel or something.” He’d gotten himself something of a reputation in school for throwing parties— Dean had, too— and, back then, they’d put a lot more effort into decorating. Today they’d just borrowed a pub.

Her next comment gave him slightly more pause— he hadn’t been a particularly good friend of late, not to Dean or anybody else. “Right,” he said. He was uncomfortable with accepting any praise, he decided, so he followed it with, “He’s more lucky for my employee discount, I reckon.”

If Susan thought he was a great friend he didn’t really want to let her down— no part of him wanted to correct her— but he felt a little dishonest all the same, like he’d tricked her into having a high opinion of him. Whatever bravery or nobility he’d had in the DA was surely pretty lacking compared to most of the others here— especially those who’d made it through Auror training— but he couldn’t think about that. Instead, he said, “It’s been a while since I’ve been around so much of the DA,” a little aimlessly. He’d put everybody on the invite list out of usual wartime camaraderie— if these weren’t the people to get drunk and party with, who were?— but he regretted it mildly, now, since he’d spent most of the party with Susan and left Dean out to dry.

He grinned at her: "Don't reckon you're partying with the old gang every weekend, either," he added. He wouldn't know, he supposed.

Tinsel in the Hogshead?  That would be sight.  Susan smiled, entertained by Seamus’ comment.  Yet it concerned her to notice something in his tone when next he spoke – a touch of embarrassment or bitterness?  “I’m sure you’re worth more than your employee discount.”  Her voice was soft and gentle, as was her smile.  The Auror might struggle to show affection but she didn’t need to be all hard-edges around her boyfriend either; showing Seamus compassion didn’t make her weak.  She could recognise by now that he had trouble seeing his self-worth.  It would’ve probably been a good time for Susan to squeeze his hand comfortingly, hug him, or kiss him…  She didn’t.  Maybe she might have done if they were alone?  Instead she started to bite her lip again. 

“I’ve always been a bit jealous of you and Dean.”  She admitted while running her fingers idly through condensation on the side of her glass.  “I’ve never had a…”  Susan gestured vaguely, feeling it would be childish to say ’best friend’.  It wasn’t like the young witch was a complete leper, she had friends.  The bonds she had built with the other members of the DA were strong and she’d do almost anything for any of them.  Yet her involvement in their lives – and theirs in hers – was negligible.  Months or even years could pass without seeing them and she would scarcely notice.  Mostly she left her friendships to suffer neglect and drift apart, focusing only on her work. 

“Yeah,” she murmured in vague agreement with Seamus.  It wasn’t often that so many members of the DA got together.  A part of her half expected Harry to start conducting lessons.  Another (more paranoid) part was still waiting for dark wizards or an angry teacher to bust in and break up the party. 

“What?”  Susan snorted in an unladylike-fashion and shook her head.  As if she had time to be out carousing every weekend.  She looked askance at Seamus’ grinning face, unsure if he was making fun of her.  “Work doesn’t count, does it?”  She asked, finally returning his grin after deciding that even if he was teasing her, it was harmless.  “Not to discredit what I said before…”  Since Seamus had brought it up, Susan had to reflect that maybe she was rather underqualified to judge whether or not a party was good.  “But I haven’t been to a party since…”  The red-head’s face scrunched up as she tried to recall the last significant group social gathering she had properly attended.  “I don’t actually remember.”  She confessed indifferently and shrugged, before continuing in a mildly playful tone, “So I can honestly say that this is the best party I’ve been to in years.”

Susan had been drinking; not enough to lose her wits or fine motor control but enough to have brought a definite flush to her cheeks.  She watched the other partygoers contemplatively, noting that a few people were even drunkenly dancing.  Their energy was almost enviable.  “It’s a bit exhausting, though.  Or is that just me?”  Said Susan, whose social stamina was being tested this night.  She couldn’t help thinking longingly about her warm bed at home – and being in it.  There was no way that she would have lasted so long without Seamus.  She appreciated that he’d stuck with her, even though he might’ve had more fun on his own. 

Yawning widely, Susan dropped her head onto his shoulder to rest for a moment.  Immediately she felt a bit silly but she stubbornly stuck with it.  She wanted to thank Seamus for his company; for sitting quietly by her side and not expecting her to dance or get rowdy with the others.  Not that she needed taking care of… still, it was nice.  It was never her intention to be the kind of girlfriend who would cramp his style – so if she had been like that tonight, then Susan figured she should at least not be ungrateful about it.  “Thanks,” she whispered softly by his ear; neglecting to give any context for her gratitude. 

“Hey, ummm…  What are you thinking of doing after this?”  Susan asked while wondering if maybe she should ask Seamus to come home with her.  Would he be anticipating an invitation?  Would he even be interested in staying the night?  It wasn’t even entirely clear to Susan whether she wanted him to.  She didn’t not want him to but it seemed like she ought to have stronger feelings on the subject.  Nervous, Susan started to twist a loose lock of red hair around one finger, focusing on the way it curled and uncurled. 

“Maybe,” said Seamus carelessly— he glanced sideways at her. She was sort of lovely when she smiled, and it made him a little inclined to smile too, as uncomfortable as he still was with accepting any sort of compliment. “You don’t have to get sweet on me. I already like you.”

He rapped his hands on the table again, just to make a little noise, and said, “Oh.” He’d always been somewhat aware that he and Dean had gotten sort of lucky— not everybody made a friend like that, and not everybody was lucky enough to do it when they were twelve and to still have it ten years later. He’d only realised that recently. “I dunno,” he said sheepishly. It’d been a long time since anybody had told him something like this. Most people let their jealousy die with them.

“We’ve got the DA,” he said, lamely; he gestured around the room.

The DA, as a topic of conversation, didn’t seem much better than close friendships had been. “No, Sus, work doesn’t count,” he said a little flippantly. They’d both been working when they’d started talking again, sure, but that was beside the point. Seamus had worried for a split second that he’d put her to thinking about You Know What mid-party but the moment seemed to have gone, and he was grateful. “I’d never have guessed,” he said, a little ironically— he knew what her work schedule was like (not very good for partying) and he knew what she spent her extracurricular time doing (not partying) and he knew what kind of personality she had (not partying.)

“Shame, though,” he couldn’t help adding. “It’s not so bad to like, forget about it a little. You know?”

Seamus couldn’t say he thought she did know. Susan had seemed a little on edge all night, and indeed for most of their relationship— he worried about it, but it wasn’t like he had any ground to stand on when it came to dealing unhealthily with the war. “I’m a little tired,” he agreed. “Might just be drunk.”

She surprised him a moment later, tucked her head onto his shoulder. Seamus went very still— last thing he wanted was to accidentally snap her neck or something, and he knew his luck— and said, baffled, “Sure, you’re welcome. Thanks for what?” He had at least enough tact to lower his voice to match hers; he put one arm around her shoulders to offset some of the awkwardness. They looked like a proper couple now— awkward too, but a little comforting.

“Er,” he said, a little embarrassed, “Clean up, I guess. Depends if this lot quiets down anytime soon.” He looked back up and appraised the DA— people were dancing, or talking, or, in a back corner, bickering about the Quidditch brackets. “Doesn’t look like it,” he predicted. “Probably going home to sleep, then.” The messy bar could be a problem for Aberforth, or, more likely, Tomorrow Seamus. 

‘It’s not so bad to like, forget about it a little. You know?’

Susan made a non-committal sound in the back of her throat.  A part of her could recognise that he was probably right, that it might even be healthier to put the past behind them – yet Sus might as well have ‘never forget’ tattooed on her forehead.  It wasn’t easy for her to relax the way the other’s did (or at least appeared to).  This party was as close as she’d come to letting her hair down in a long while, and still, half her thoughts had always been occupied with assessing potential threats to the venue. 

As his arm wrapped around her shoulder, Susan tensed briefly - the familiarity of Seamus warring with her underlying instinct to treat any unexpected touch as a threat.  After a delay (which she worried was too long to seem natural) Susan relaxed into the embrace.  “For being you,” came her soft and barely audible reply against the fabric of his shirt.  Despite being unable to define exactly what her feelings were towards him, Sus knew that she was grateful towards Seamus for not just that night, but the past months as well.  Snuggling in a little closer, she tried to capture that elusive sense of safety that Seamus sometimes gave her.  Warm, she thought sleepily, yawning again. 

“Oh.”  The worst, most cruel little parts of her psyche immediately pointed out that Seamus’ plans for the rest of the evening didn’t include her at all.  “Yeah, of course.”  That’s fine, she told herself – but this was a lie.  It was only with his reply that Sus had realised that she did want him to come home with her, if only to hold her and stroke her hair if she had a nightmare.  However, the level of vulnerability required to ask for that was beyond Susan.  Instead, she said, “Me too.  Sleep that is.”  Suddenly wide awake, Susan sat up straight.  She could feel the comforting warmth of Seamus’ body disappearing as she shifted away.  Perhaps it had been too much laughing and smiling, too much playing at being a real girl for one night…  Sus felt her personality snapping back like a piece of elastic as she retreated behind a wall of cold detachment. 

The awkwardness had returned (had it ever left?) and Susan believed it was all her fault.  She couldn’t really blame Seamus for not providing the intimacy she secretly craved, especially when at any moment she might turn into a block of ice under his hands.  The whole thing would be incredibly sad, if she hadn’t shut all of her emotions away.  Noticing that Dean was making his way around the room, apparently saying his farewells, Susan got slowly to her feet.  If the birthday boy would be leaving the party, then Sus could too without it being a big deal.  “I might actually head off soon,” she said, her gaze distant as she glanced back at Seamus.

“Okay,” he said, and grinned a little at her -- Susan was now properly snuggling him, which was a little bit weird and a little bit nice, and as much as he didn’t really deserve it, it was nice to be praised for not actually doing anything. She yawned; he glanced absently at the clock over the bar, checked on the time. The Quidditch discussion was becoming a Quidditch debate -- he wasn’t working tonight, but he felt like he should break it up anyway. It’d be a headache tomorrow.

But he stayed put, dropped his own head closer to hers to catch her next question.

Only after he’d answered it, and she’d stiffened up, did he realise he’d fucked up -- mentally he ran through his reply a second time, trying to ascertain what he’d done. Clean up or go home -- belatedly he remembered that they were a couple, or whatever, that the proper couple thing might have been to take her home. Make sure she got in alright. As he tried to figure out how to extend the offer, like a paltry olive branch, she stood up, brusque and serious again.

He couldn’t hide a surprised frown when she announced that she was leaving, though he recovered quickly; he reached up to scratch his nose with embarrassment rather than look away.

“Already?” he said, even though it wasn’t too early anymore -- the DA were late partiers, that wasn’t her fault. He followed her gaze, landed on Dean; was he leaving too? The possibility sunk a little like a rock in his stomach -- the party must’ve failed somehow, or Seamus had. He’d spent the whole evening in this corner, after all.

Stupidly, quietly, still looking across the room, he said, “I’ll see you back home. If you want.”

Dean did seem like he was getting ready to leave, he was headed their way -- Seamus glanced back at Susan, realising she’d been looking at him. He wanted to know if she’d had a good time, but he couldn’t say he wanted to know if she hadn’t, so he didn’t ask. Instead he got up too, cracked his neck and said, “Probably not too drunk to Apparate.”