![]() They don’t yell, Seamus isn’t sure if any of them know how to yell at each other anymore. “Oh, yah, sure! They’d leave the halls free and clear if not for me!” Seamus’ loaner (see: stupid, reckless, aggressive ) choices simply often don’t align with Neville’s. “The more you act up, the more sweeps they do at night!” Seamus has never been the best at planning but what he lacks in planning he makes up for knowing well before this year: its better to push and make a fuss then watch someone else hurt. Neville plans, Seamus just shouts and shouts and pushes everyone until they snap–but its not without reason. He leaves that to Neville, who seems to have found leadership under some potting soil at some point. ![]() Seamus isn’t a leader–he was never built that way and doesn’t try now. Neville must agree, though he isn’t smiling yet, “So long as we keep busy.” “Y’know, I think its going to be fun.” Seamus says, and smiles. Neville sits next to him and Seamus knocks into him–not leaning, it doesn’t seem quite like the time for that, but not quite cracking together: skull to shoulder. ![]() Right not because of what she said (she was wrong about Harry and you-know-who, which Seamus had known well before that fight) but because of the fear in her eyes–like lancing a wound one thought was healed and finding pus. It’s been rolling since before the train and hasn’t stopped–trapped between trepidation and bone chilling certainty that his mother was right. They’re the last two boys in their year at Gryffindor Tower and Seamus stomach is rolling. ![]()
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