lokifan_import (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lokifan_import) wrote2010-03-20 07:30 am
lokifan_import) wrote2010-03-20 07:30 am
Entry tags:
Fortune Favours The Brave
Title: Fortune Favours The Brave
Word count: ~500
Characters/pairings: Seamus/Pansy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Seamus spends his eighth year fighting evil and selling lucky charms to the frightened students.
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: The boys and girls belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.
Author’s Notes: This was written forsortinghatdabs; the pairing was Seamus/Slytherin and the prompt was lucky charms. I guess it’s my belated St Patrick’s Day fic.
Dean, Ron and Harry were on the run; Neville spent every hour on the DA. Seamus took a more entrepreneurial approach to war.
Seamus wasn’t sure if the charms and amulets did anything, but fears grew every day. There was a sense of impending doom about the castle; a feeling that they were all careening towards some disaster, and there was no way to stop it. No wonder the wishbones and ankhs sold like hotcakes.
Pansy Parkinson grabbed him after Arithmancy – literally, her sharp nails digging into his arm. Panic clutched at Seamus’ throat, but if he’d been caught doing DA work he wouldn’t have heard about it this way. He smiled into her angry eyes. “Want a rabbit foot? Discounted price for a pretty lady!”
Pansy snatched her hand back, her face twisting in revulsion. “What? You filthy Muggle-lover! Don’t you know why rabbit feet are considered lucky by Muggles?”
Seamus blinked, taken aback. “Er...”
“They’re meant to be the foot of a shapeshifted witch! Those Muggles want to dismember Animagi! You – ”
“How about a four-leafed clover?” Seamus broke in, trying to avoid a fight. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper with a Slytherin – he had too many secrets to guard. He smiled again, giving her a conspiratorial look. Pansy was sharp-faced, haunted, thin and spiky as barbed wire; but they all were these days, and it didn’t hurt her looks. “You can have it free for a kiss. Kissing the Irish is lucky too, you know.”
She rolled her eyes, and for a moment it was like before Snape killed Dumbledore and everything fell. Pansy kissed him on the cheek, in a sharp movement like a clandestine pinch between playground enemies, and accepted the clover. She was unexpectedly gentle with it, careful not to pinch the stem with her long nails. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Seamus gave an exaggerated bow; she matched it with her curtsey, inch for inch.
Two weeks later, Seamus was sneaking toward the Forest in the dead of night when he met Pansy.
For a long moment, they simply stood ankle-deep in dew while they weighed the possibilities of mutual blackmail.
“I’m off to look for shooting stars,” Seamus said, making a decision. “They’re lucky.”
Pansy raised an arch eyebrow. “Oh really? Why don’t I come along?”
Seamus kept smiling, and they went down to the side of the lake. She drew the clover he’d given her out from under her cloak, and held it in front of her face; her dark eyes were liquid and serious.
“D’you know what the leaves of a four-leafed clover represent? What they’re supposed to bring us?”
“No.”
“Faith,” she said quietly. “Hope, love.” A smile flashed out, quick and wicked as a fox leaving its hole, and Pansy kissed him. “And luck.” Then she was gone, on whatever nighttime errand she’d come out for.
Seamus flopped back on the grass, and grinned up at the stars.
The luck of the Irish indeed.
Word count: ~500
Characters/pairings: Seamus/Pansy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Seamus spends his eighth year fighting evil and selling lucky charms to the frightened students.
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: The boys and girls belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.
Author’s Notes: This was written for
sortinghatdabs; the pairing was Seamus/Slytherin and the prompt was lucky charms. I guess it’s my belated St Patrick’s Day fic.Dean, Ron and Harry were on the run; Neville spent every hour on the DA. Seamus took a more entrepreneurial approach to war.
Seamus wasn’t sure if the charms and amulets did anything, but fears grew every day. There was a sense of impending doom about the castle; a feeling that they were all careening towards some disaster, and there was no way to stop it. No wonder the wishbones and ankhs sold like hotcakes.
Pansy Parkinson grabbed him after Arithmancy – literally, her sharp nails digging into his arm. Panic clutched at Seamus’ throat, but if he’d been caught doing DA work he wouldn’t have heard about it this way. He smiled into her angry eyes. “Want a rabbit foot? Discounted price for a pretty lady!”
Pansy snatched her hand back, her face twisting in revulsion. “What? You filthy Muggle-lover! Don’t you know why rabbit feet are considered lucky by Muggles?”
Seamus blinked, taken aback. “Er...”
“They’re meant to be the foot of a shapeshifted witch! Those Muggles want to dismember Animagi! You – ”
“How about a four-leafed clover?” Seamus broke in, trying to avoid a fight. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper with a Slytherin – he had too many secrets to guard. He smiled again, giving her a conspiratorial look. Pansy was sharp-faced, haunted, thin and spiky as barbed wire; but they all were these days, and it didn’t hurt her looks. “You can have it free for a kiss. Kissing the Irish is lucky too, you know.”
She rolled her eyes, and for a moment it was like before Snape killed Dumbledore and everything fell. Pansy kissed him on the cheek, in a sharp movement like a clandestine pinch between playground enemies, and accepted the clover. She was unexpectedly gentle with it, careful not to pinch the stem with her long nails. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Seamus gave an exaggerated bow; she matched it with her curtsey, inch for inch.
Two weeks later, Seamus was sneaking toward the Forest in the dead of night when he met Pansy.
For a long moment, they simply stood ankle-deep in dew while they weighed the possibilities of mutual blackmail.
“I’m off to look for shooting stars,” Seamus said, making a decision. “They’re lucky.”
Pansy raised an arch eyebrow. “Oh really? Why don’t I come along?”
Seamus kept smiling, and they went down to the side of the lake. She drew the clover he’d given her out from under her cloak, and held it in front of her face; her dark eyes were liquid and serious.
“D’you know what the leaves of a four-leafed clover represent? What they’re supposed to bring us?”
“No.”
“Faith,” she said quietly. “Hope, love.” A smile flashed out, quick and wicked as a fox leaving its hole, and Pansy kissed him. “And luck.” Then she was gone, on whatever nighttime errand she’d come out for.
Seamus flopped back on the grass, and grinned up at the stars.
The luck of the Irish indeed.