The fighter still remains

[ginevra molly weasley]

Ginny trudged off the field after a grueling scrimmage against the Kenmare Kestrels’ trainees. It was still early in the training period, which meant both teams were weeding out the weak players from the strong, and practices were beyond draining. As she stripped off her robes in the locker room, Ginny was careful not to groan about her aching arms, which felt as though they were swollen to the size of hams. She knew – because she had overheard them taking bets her first day at practice - that several of the other recruits were just waiting for “Potter’s Little Girlfriend” to start whinging about the work. Luckily, the actual Harpies were a perfectly nice lot, but Ginny was very careful not to reveal anything to the wannabes.

She stepped into the shower and let the water pound against her back in a soothing massage. She let it wash away her cares about the team and redirected her focus towards her upcoming dinner date with Seamus Finnegan. When she had received her schedule two weeks ago, she had noted this game at Kenmare against the Kestrels and owled Seamus, whose father owned a pub in Ballybunion, saying that she was going to be in the area and would he mind if she stopped in for a bite?

She felt guilty about imposing on Seamus; she knew he had stuck very close to home since the Battle, working at his dad’s pub and steering clear of the wizarding world except for occasional get togethers with Neville and Dean. Ginny had only seen Seamus once since the end of the war. But when Neville left on his expedition to catalogue rare tropical plants, he had asked her to check in on Seamus when she got the chance.

Ginny hadn’t thought much of Seamus when she started at Hogwarts. He was a poor loser and had refused to believe in Harry’s word of Voldemort’s return. But her opinion changed her sixth year. Seamus never seemed to go down without a fight, and Ginny realized she was envious of his ability to confront the regime. They picked on him, but he seemed to seek them out as well; he was always covered in bruises. He had grown quieter, but then, they all had.

Ginny stepped out of the shower and dressed in a pair of jeans and an ocean-blue cashmere sweater that Harry had bought her for her last birthday. Uttering a quick hair-drying charm, she shrunk the bag with her gear in it and stuck it in her purse. She pulled out the letter Seamus had sent her with directions to the pub, apparated to the outskirts of Ballybunion, and set off for The Happy Pig.

Facing the pub with its thatched roof, she ignored the little voice telling her that Seamus probably had a good reason for avoiding everyone, but she justified her self-invite by telling herself that if Seamus was depressed and isolated, like she was after the diary, then he needed people around him. After all, it had worked for her. Eventually.

Ginny entered the pub and seated herself at a small booth against the wall. Something felt… odd. She subtly slid her wand into her palm and observed her surroundings. The Happy Pig had a friendly atmosphere, with white plaster walls and dark wood paneling, built-in booths against the walls and tables in the middle, and a gorgeous wood and brass bar facing the entrance. It was a Friday night, and the pub was doing a booming business.

No one is staring at me, she realized. Normally, she could hardly go out in public without being stopped at least once by a reporter, and once Harry had had to invoke Auror privileges to get photographers to stop hassling her. Even when she wasn’t being trailed, heads usually turned and wizards and witches whispered to each other, “Look, it’s her!” “Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter’s fiancée!” “Heroine of the student resistance!”

But here, not a single glance came her way. Of course, Ginny thought, It's an entirely Muggle pub. It would be the perfect place for her and Harry to come, far away from the bustle and publicity of London and the wizarding world.

That was it! Ginny had been trying to think of a place to host Harry’s birthday. They could have thrown it at the Burrow, but Mum had enough to do with planning the wedding, and anyway, she wanted it to be more special than a house party. For Merlin’s sake, she LIVED at the Burrow!

Now she just had to ask Seamus if he’d mind renting out his dad’s pub to a bunch of wizards for a night…

When the waitress came to take her order, Ginny randomly pointed to the first thing she saw on the menu and asked the girl to let Seamus know she was there.

A few minutes later, Seamus emerged from the kitchen. Ginny almost didn’t recognize him. Gone was the exuberant boy who had rallied the DA during the Carrows’ regime. In his place was a thin man with a forced smile that didn’t reach his haunted eyes. He slid into the bench opposite Ginny.

Ginny mentally picked her jaw up off the floor.

“Hi, Seamus. Just got out of practice. How’ve you been?”

word count:: 882
tag:: Seamus Finnegan

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[seamus patrick finnegan]

When Ginny had owled Seamus asking to have dinner, he had accepted immediately – to do otherwise would have been to invite suspicious concern from not just Ginny, but also from Neville and whomever else she might decide to tell. Seamus had decided long ago that he was less likely to have to answer any number of questions he wished to avoid if he allowed his friends to believe he was perfectly happy to see them, he just preferred his cheerful family pub to Wizarding society. In a way, this was true. The terrible feeling of not knowing if Dean was alive for an entire ten months during the war had left Seamus irrationally anxious about him, and about everyone else, and seeing them well and happy eased that anxiety.


So Seamus had told Ginny he would be delighted to have her over for dinner, and that they would exchange school stories and drink like Irishmen. And as he had worked in the pub kitchen the morning she was to come, Seamus was surprised to find he wasn’t dreading her visit as much as he had expected to. He hadn’t seen her in quite a long time. The last time had been at some party, perhaps her engagement party, or had it been someone’s flat-warming? Seamus couldn’t remember.


At any rate, that one encounter had been the only one since the funerals, since the battle, since that terrible year under the Carrows. And Seamus had expected to dread this meeting with Ginny, because they had not been friends before that year. Before they became soldiers and martyrs and leaders of the resistance together, while the people they loved the most, their best friends and brothers, were missing, maybe dead. The bonds that held Seamus and Ginny together were forged by the war, and Seamus hated to talk about the war. He had spent the last two years furiously trying to forget as much as he could about it.


However, despite all this Seamus was able to join his father’s cheerful singing as they worked together in the kitchen. He didn’t know what had changed, but suddenly it seemed that he wasn’t quite so afraid of the memories that his Hogwarts friends always dredged up. Maybe two years was long enough for him to begin to confront his past. He might as well begin with Ginny, as Dean and Neville were unavailable. If he couldn’t handle talking about the war, there was no reason they couldn’t chat about her job, or his pub, or what Neville was up to.


By mid-afternoon, Seamus had become convinced he was going to have a perfectly enjoyable dinner with Ginny. He even decided to prepare the meal himself, and just have his cousin Sorcha bring it out once he’d sat down with her. Might as well impress her – he was, after all, an excellent cook. However, as Seamus chopped vegetables and sang Irish drinking songs, his mother shattered his relative cheer.


It had been a small thing, just a casual comment as she passed through the kitchen, but it had thoroughly unbalanced Seamus. Kathleen had said something along the lines of “I’m so glad you’ll finally have someone to talk to, dear. Neville and Dean are very nice, but girls are better at understanding things than boys, aren’t they” This remark had triggered the rather alarming idea that perhaps Ginny bringing up the war was not something that might happen because it was what had made them friends, but something that would happen because having a heart-to-heart was her sole intention in coming to see him.


This terrifying thought had plagued him for the rest of the afternoon, and as a result, he was tense and cheerless by the time Sorcha came into the kitchen to tell him Ginny had arrived. He approached the table she had chosen with trepidation, attempting with Herculean effort to put on a convincing smile in response to her greeting.


“Not bad. The sea is bloody wonderful this time of year, and the pub is doing good business. You and Harry both all right?” He asked, sliding into the booth. “I hope you didn’t order, I already cooked something for us.”



word count: 707
tags: Ginny

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[ginevra molly weasley]

“Oh! I didn’t realize you could cook,” said Ginny. “I’m so sorry – the waitress asked me and I just got the first thing off the menu – ”

“Not a problem. Oi, Sorcha!”

The girl who had taken Ginny’s order came over, and Seamus asked her to cancel Ginny’s meal. “Bring out the dish I was cooking earlier, would you, sweetheart?”

Sorcha rolled her eyes but went back to the kitchen good-naturedly.

“Sorry about that,” Ginny apologized. “Anyway, Harry and I are great. He’s really busy, they’re still rounding up the last of the Death Eaters –“ she pretended not to see Seamus’ fingers twitch “ – but at least he isn’t getting flak from some of the more experienced Aurors like he was two years ago.”

Which was a relief, really. During her second sixth year, Harry had been in his first year of Auror training, and the stress had nearly cost them their newly reformed relationship. The Ministry was in such disarray that he was practically a fully-fledged Auror, and whenever he was able to get away to visit Ginny, he would complain bitterly about older Aurors who either treated him with absurd reverence or considered him a totally unqualified, wet-behind-the-ears upstart.

Ginny had been sympathetic, up to a point. She had been dealing with the stress of living at Hogwarts, walking past the places where so many of her friends had fallen, sitting in classrooms where she had been tortured. She and Harry had ultimately had a massive fight (thankfully Hermione had discreetly confiscated their wands beforehand) about their problems. The whole ordeal ended up bringing them closer together and teaching them to deal with their problems as couple, but it had been unpleasant while it lasted.

But Ginny didn’t say any of this; there was no need to air her dirty laundry in front of Seamus. Besides, the past was the past.

Sorcha arrived with their drinks, and Ginny took the opportunity to study Seamus. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his once-freckled skin was pale and sunken on his cheekbones. Had he slept at all in the past week? His hand was no longer shaking, but he was clenching his pint so hard his knuckles were white.

Frankly, he looked like shite.

Ginny decided it was better not to say anything. The war had taught her that ignoring your problems was a terrible long-term solution, but in the short-term it was actually beneficial to pretend like everything was normal. She couldn’t count the dinners she had spent at the Burrow smiling and nodding and ignoring the hollow ache in her chest and the sudden silences when the family realized they were waiting for Fred and George to interrupt with one of their trademark quips. This conversation with Seamus was starting to have all the earmarks (Fred would have laughed) of a discussion marred by the war, even though the war was the last thing Ginny wanted to talk about.

“Training has been pretty intense. Your Kestrels tired me out today, that’s for sure. But Quidditch is quidditch. What have you been up to?”

word count:: 518
tag:: Seamus Finnegan

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[seamus patrick finnegan]

Seamus gulped a mouthful of ale to buy some time. What on earth was he going to say? Actually, Ginny, I’ve been hiding out in the kitchen of this pub for two years, too scared to go to church with my Da, let alone the Wizarding World? Ginny had become his friend as they fought the Carrows together the last year of the war, and Seamus had begun to think that Ginny might be one of the best people for him to talk to. However, it had been such a long time since they had spoken, and he was uncertain about the state of their friendship. He definitely wasn’t going to plunge into emotional conversation with her in the middle of his pub when she probably had just come to relax with a Hogwarts mate after a grueling practice.


“I’ve been working in the kitchen here. Not a brilliant career choice, I know, but I like it. Been writing a bit, too.” He added impulsively. He hadn’t told anyone that, yet, but he knew he’d have to sometime, and perhaps if he made it sound very casual, like a hobby, it wouldn’t be too difficult to talk about. “My Mum worked for the Prophet, you know.”


He paused, tracing the grain of the wood on the mahogany table. He didn’t want to think about Mum, but of course she had come up. The things that Seamus liked about himself came from his father – the singing, the cooking, his huge Irish Catholic family…he didn’t like to admit that he was just as much his mother’s son. The things she said always went round and round in his head, and it was her approval he sought to earn. That’s because I don’t have to earn Da’s approval. Seamus thought, but he knew it was because his father, accepting, loving, and wonderful as he was didn’t understand Seamus as his mother did. How could he? Patrick Finnegan was a Muggle. He didn’t understand magic – the wonders of it, or the horrors. He didn’t really understand the war his son had fought. And magic and the war were now a part of Seamus’ soul, as deeply ingrained as his Irish roots and Catholic heritage.


Seamus remembered that Ginny was waiting for him to continue. “I wasn’t a brilliant student at Hogwarts, at least not in comparison to Harry and Hermione, especially in terms of magical power, but I worked hard. I didn’t come back here because there wasn’t anything I could do in the Wizarding World. I just…” Seamus thought about what he wanted to say. “I wanted to see if it would be enough to come back to the sea and the church choir and my Da’s kitchen.” Seamus saw Sorcha arriving with the food and stopped gratefully. Maybe he was more ready to talk then he thought. He had come dangerously close, there, to telling Ginny what he was trying to escape.


“Thanks Sorcha.” Seamus said cheerfully, knowing that his forced good spirits didn’t fool Sorcha. She was the cousin closest to him in age and temperament, and she knew him almost better then he knew himself, despite her ignorance of the world of magic. Da often said that Sorcha was an old soul, and Seamus had often wished that Statute of Secrecy didn’t prevent him from confiding in her. Another time Sorcha might have tried to talk to him, but she was working and Seamus had a guest, so she simply gave him a knowing look and walked away.


Seamus turned backed to Ginny. “It’s Irish Stew.” He announced. “I thought you might like something traditional. There’s no use being in Ireland and not getting Ireland’s best. I’ve added my own spices, and the bread is baked in our ovens. The pub specialties are actually mostly Irish seafood dishes, located as we are on the coast, but some people aren’t fond of seafood so I thought I’d go with the stew.”




word count: 667
tags: Ginny

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[ginevra molly weasley]

Ginny took a bite of the stew. It was delicious – savory, with fresh vegetables and a hint of lemon.

A comfortable silence fell over them as they tucked in to their dinners. Ginny was absolutely ravenous after such a grueling practice, and it looked as if Seamus was just as eager to enjoy the meal. There was nothing wrong with his appetite, at any rate.

Ginny thought about what Seamus had said, and what he hadn’t. She had forgotten that Seamus’ mum had worked for the Prophet. Ginny still hadn’t forgiven that particular publication for its part in the Second War. She sometimes wondered how things might have turned out if the magical newspaper hadn’t gone along with Fudge’s campaign to smear Dumbledore and Harry immediately after Voldemort’s return. Of course, during the war itself the paper and its employees had been under incredible scrutiny by Death Eaters, but Ginny privately felt that a great deal of the atrocities committed during Voldemort’s second rise and reign could have been avoided if the editors at the Prophet hadn’t rolled over for Fudge like lapdogs. Although the paper was no longer the mouthpiece of the Ministry, Ginny preferred to stick to the Quibbler and Lee Jordan’s daily programme on WWN to get her news rather than rely on the Daily Prophet.

She remembered that Seamus had at first refused to believe that Voldemort had returned because his mum had bought into the Prophet’s tripe. She considered the immense pressure his mum must have been under at work. How had Seamus convinced her that Harry was telling the truth? Or had she been one of the ones who didn’t see what was in front of her until Death Eaters marched into the Prophet’s offices and removed all ‘unsatisfactory’ employees? Ginny would guess the former rather than the latter; if Seamus’ mum and his Muggle father had managed to survive the war, then chances were good that they had seen the light earlier rather than later. Ginny wanted to ask Seamus how his mum had coped with the atmosphere at the Prophet, but decided that such a question would probably fall on the “Ron” side of tactful.

It seemed as though Seamus was taking a holiday from the wizarding world, but why? Ginny knew that many witches and wizards – particularly Muggle-borns and half-bloods – had opted out of the wizarding world in the aftermath of the war, but Ginny could never imagine making such a choice. She was so deeply rooted in her identity as a witch (and she had grown up in a pureblood household, so no matter how obsessed her father might be with Muggle gadgets, her chances of surviving the Muggle world were approximately nil). Ginny had found that throwing herself into the rebuilding of the wizarding world, finishing her education, repairing her relationship with Harry, and now training with the Harpies had helped her deal with the war’s aftermath. For Neville, Luna, and other friends, it had been the same. So what was going on with Seamus? Most witches and wizards who left the wizarding world cut all ties, yet Seamus was in regular contact with Neville and Dean, despite his isolation from everything else.

At this point, all of Ginny’s senses were screaming at her that something was still deeply troubling Seamus and preventing him from returning to the wizarding world full-time. What could it be? Could his writing have something to do with it? Ginny thought about expressing an interest, but the way Seamus had talked about his writing, he was either dabbling in inconsequential scribblings, or it was something intensely personal. Either way, Ginny needed a way to give him an opportunity to talk about what was going on, if he wanted.

Ginny waved her fork in the air, gesturing to the pub around them. “And has all this been enough?”

word count:: 643
tag:: Seamus Finnegan
notes:: Yes, Ginny is being rather uncharitable towards Kathleen here. Ginny doesn’t know Kathleen at all, and I think Ginny can be rather hard on people whom she considers to have taken the easy way out. And I enjoyed the irony of a little Prophet-bashing when Ginny will end up working there after she has James…

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[seamus patrick finnegan]

Seamus shoved an enormous mouthful of stew into his mouth to buy time. Ginny had pounced on his unguarded words. He had forgotten how perceptive she was. Well, actually, that was a lie. Seamus had known what Ginny was like and invited her anyway. He was ready to start getting better and he knew he needed help. However, that didn’t mean he wanted to have a heart-to-heart five minutes into the first conversation they’d had in a year, in the middle of his pub. Or at least that’s what he told himself when he was too cowardly to really start talking.


“I love it here, Ginny.” He said, mostly truthfully, after finally managing to swallow. “I know it’s hard to understand when you grow up all Wizarding, but some of the things that Muggleborns and Halfbloods have to leave behind are just as wonderful as magic, really.” Seamus paused, thinking about what he could say that Ginny would comprehend. Church was out –Seamus had once tried to explain to Neville about Catholicism and church, but even with Dean’s help the explanation had failed. Religion was too complicated and unfamiliar to purebloods to be explained in a casual conversation. Seamus decided to start with his cousins – family, after all, was something all Weasleys understood.


“I have thirteen cousins living in this town or nearby, and three more in Dublin. Three are exactly my age and nine others are no more than five years older or younger. Seven are married, and they have eight little children between them. There’s thirty-nine family members, all of whom I love, but all of whom are Muggles. When I live here, I see them all the time. I can tell them what I do all day, and if I have a problem, it’s something they can understand. What purebloods forget is that when people like me play Quidditch or work for the Ministry or become Dragon-Keepers, we make a commitment to lie to our families about everything we do. Sometimes it’s worth it – for some people it’s worth it. But for some people it’s not.”


Seamus realized he had stopped talking about himself and started preaching about social issues. That would have been fine with Dean or Neville, but Seamus knew better than to hope that Ginny would allow him to change the subject. What had he been trying to tell her about? Oh, yes, his family. “The waitress you met earlier was my cousin Sorcha. She is exactly my age, and she was my best friend, my favorite cousin, before Hogwarts. But now it’s been nine years since I was able to tell her anything important about my life. We’re still close, but all that means now is that she can tell that I’m holding back. She thinks that I don’t trust her, or that I’m so messed up I can’t talk to her at all. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Bloody Statute of Secrecy.”


Seamus managed to stop complaining and refocus. “Anyway, As long as I work here, that won’t be such an issue. I like cooking, and I like working with my Dad and Sorcha, and all the others. Lots of my cousins work here at least part time, it’s a family business. And I love living in Ireland, living by the sea and the river. The Black Lake is nice, but it’s got nothing on the Atlantic and the Shannon.” Seamus decided he’d said enough about himself. What else could he talk about? Casting a glance around the room, Seamus saw Sorcha’s sister Maeve emerge from the kitchen with a tray of drinks. As she entered, he briefly heard a snatch of music – his father, singing as he cooked. Seamus smiled.


“I haven’t talked to you about my Da, have I?” He asked, suddenly at ease with the conversation. “He’s great, I’ll introduce you while you’re here. He’s a Muggle, of course, but he’s one of those people who always make you feel as if whatever you’re talking about is the most fascinating, wonderful thing in the world. I used to spend half my summers telling him every little thing that happened at Hogwarts over the year, and although I’m sure he sure he understood less than half of what I said he never let on. He’s loud and cheerful and kind – he makes everyone around him happy. That’s why the pub is such a success, I think. Da is always laughing and singing and listening to people’s troubles. The whole family revolves around him, as well, he’s the youngest of five, and the others were sisters, so they all adore him. He’s everybody’s favorite uncle.” Seamus sat back, flashing what was probably his first genuine smile of the day.


“But you’d know all about great fathers, wouldn’t you? Harry and Ron used to tell stories about yours, they seemed to think he was pretty wonderful.”
word count: 824
tags:Ginny

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[ginevra molly weasley]

“Yeah,” laughed Ginny, “Dad’s great. Always been there for me, you know? And it can’t have been easy for him, a little girl after all those boys.”

It was a challenge that Arthur Weasley had risen to magnificently, Ginny reflected. She certainly hadn’t made it easy on him. She was always trying to keep up with the boys, always trying to be better, faster, stronger. Arthur was the only one who made her feel as though she was perfect just the way she was. His gentle, non-judgmental ways made her feel at ease, and a disappointed look from him was more effective than ten of her mother’s lectures. In the midst of the chaos that was life at the Burrow, Arthur had always been there, standing firm, with his gentleness and ideals, a bulwark of strength for everyone in the family to rely on. Which reminded her…

“And he’s been really good about Harry and me. Mum’s always hovering. It’s like she can’t make up her mind! One minute she wants him as her son, the next she thinks we’re too young to be making decisions about anything! My dad’s much more calm about it all. He doesn’t mind the photographers who show up trying to catch us, and he even covered for us once when we were out far later than we were supposed to be.”

Ginny sighed.

“I love my home,” she continued, “but sometimes it’s so stifling. And when I’m there, I feel like a little girl all over again – except I’m not that little girl anymore.”

It had been an artless comment – and the absolute truth – but Seamus practically snapped to attention. His muscles tensed, and his gaze was suddenly piercing.

But all he said was, “So, where do you go? To feel like yourself?”

“I fly.”

Ginny had always loved flying, ever since Charlie had first put her in front of him on his Cleansweep. She left her troubles behind her when she flew, she could focus on making patterns in the air, on the game. It was heaven.

“What happens when you come back down to earth?”

Ginny sensed a double meaning to the question, but she wasn’t sure if Seamus had intended it that way. So she went for a safer, more literal, answer.

“Harry has been taking me into Muggle London. It’s brilliant – I could never go by myself, I’m too used to magic and I don’t know enough about their technology, but I love it. We’ve gone to the movies, we’ve gotten Chinese take-away, and best of all, no one knows who we are. I actually wanted to have Harry’s birthday party at our favorite Italian restaurant, but it’d be too hard. We’ve got too many friends who could never pass in the Muggle world.”

“The reporters don’t try and follow you to Muggle London?”

“Can’t,” she said smugly. “Not too many Muggle-born reporters who are willing to take the job – something about Muggle reporters killing a princess – and the Statute of Secrecy means that those who can’t pass as Muggles can’t go on official business to the Muggle world. They’re a security risk.”

Seamus grinned, and she caught a glimpse of charming, roguish boy he had been. “Can’t seem to grasp that we’ve moved beyond quills to pens and paper, have they?”

Ginny decided not to notice that he’d say “we” instead of “they.”

“I know! But it’s dead useful, it’s so nice not to have to look over my shoulder all the time. Actually, that’s one of the things I noticed when I came in here. No one was staring at me. It’s a great atmosphere: cheery, relaxed. And the best thing is I get to blend in with the woodwork. I’d never get that at the Leaky Cauldron.”

Ginny bit her lip. It was now or never.

“Seamus, I swear it didn’t occur to me until I walked in here tonight, but do you think I could rent the pub out for a night? For Harry’s birthday party?”

She rushed on, eager to get that gobsmacked look off of Seamus’ face.

“I mean, we really, really don’t want the attention, and it’s so pretty here, and since the guests could just apparate outside the village they wouldn’t have to worry so much about passing as Muggles. It’d only be a few of us, anyways, Harry really hates a fuss. Just family and some of the DA and a couple of mates from work. What d’you think?”

word count:: 748
tags:: Seamus Finnegan

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[seamus patrick finnegan]

blockquote]

Seamus’ first reaction to Ginny’s request was no, no, no. Fortunately, he didn’t say that out loud. Instead he forced himself to think rationally. Who would come to a birthday party for Harry? The Weasleys, of course. Hermione, Neville, Dean, and Luna, or whichever of them were in the country. Others from the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore’s Army. Seamus supposed Harry might have work friends, and he vaguely remembered hearing that Professor Lupin had made Harry godfather of his son before he died, so possibly Teddy Lupin and whoever normally took care of him would come.

Seamus could handle that. It would be more witches and wizards than he had seen in a year, and he would have nowhere to escape to, but if there was anywhere in the world people would avoid dredging up the war, it was at Harry Potter’s birthday party. Seamus looked at Ginny, waiting expectantly, and drained his pint.

“Are you finished?” he asked. When she nodded, he stood, scraping the floor with his chair. “We don’t rent out the pub, but I’ll show you what we do have available. I think you’ll like it.” Ginny rose obediently and followed him out the side door of the pub to the wooden fire stair leading up the outside of the pub. He didn’t even glance at the cheerful red door on the landing halfway up that lead to his family’s flat above the main room of the pub, continuing up to the roof. He pushed open the little gate at the top and held it open for Ginny.

She gave a little gasp as she walked through. There were cheerful white tables and chairs scattered around, and wood poles with lanterns strategically placed so that the space could be used at night. It was inviting and convenient for a family party, but the best part, at least in Seamus’ opinion, was the view.

There was a waist-high fence around the edges of the roof, liberally decorated with flowerpots filled with Irish wildflowers. To the west, the Atlantic was clearly visible, to the north, the river Shannon, and to the south and east, pretty village scenes. Ginny looked around delightedly, crossing to the west side and leaning on the fence, taking in the spectacular view of the ocean.

“Bloody hell Seamus! It’s perfect!” She said feelingly, turning to look at him. “we can really have the party here?” Seamus smiled. He might not like the idea of having the magical world collide with his sanctuary, but he loved showing off his home, and he couldn’t help but be pleased by Ginny’s reaction.

“Well, I’ll have to check the schedule, but I think it’s free.” He replied, joining her at the fence. “The first time Dean visited, you know, I took him up here and didn’t want to come down. Just stayed up here for hours drawing, then gave up and told me he needed color for this and that I better let him come back when he’d learned how to paint. But that was the summer before Fourth Year, and he never got the chance to come back – well, not for a long holiday where he’d have time to paint.”

word count: 537
tags: Ginny

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