Trip the Light Ambiguous

trip the light ambiguous

Three Months Previously.

Hermione had always been very good at seeing through people. She could spot a liar the moment they began to speak. She knew a weirdo just from how they stood. She could see any emotion, and knew instantly whether or not it was real. She also knew, better than anyone else, when something was amiss. This being said, she’d just spotted such a case, sitting at her dinner table, chewing mashed potatoes.

“’My-nee,” Ron said through those mashed potatoes, “Elise Thomas jus’ tol’ me t’day ‘at Dean is in-vol-d wiff sum’un.” He swallowed.

“Wipe your mouth dear. So. Has Dean finally come out of the closet, then?” she asked.

“I dunno. I asked her who it was, but she only told me I’d be surprised. Said that it surprised her, anyway.” He wiped his mouth just as he had been told to do.

Hermione studied him for a moment. “Really? A surprise?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh,” she replied. She took a few seconds to add salt to her vegetables. Then she stopped. “Wait. Jenny said that she was surprised?”

Ron had stuffed his mouth full again, and so he chose to answer with a nod.

“That…that isn’t good. Has he been talking to Seamus?” she asked, leaning on her palm.

“From what Neville’s told me, no…not at…all,” Ron began to pick up on her meaning. “You…you don’t think he’s left Seamus, do you?”

“I don’t know…but I’m going to find out.”

She’d also never been very good at minding her own business.

1

Seamus Finnigan had never been so excited in all of his life. He did not sit in the car that he was riding in; no, he was actually standing upon the backseat with his upper half hanging out of the skylight, the icy air streaking across his face in great wintry gusts. It jangled the odd jewelry that hung from even odder places on his body and his green streaked hair was swept back so slick against his head under the rather unpleasant gusts that it felt as though he was being scalped. But it didn’t matter to him…nothing could spoil this moment. He’d waited for it through so many months of touring…he wouldn’t have to see the band for six whole months… I’m going home! He let out a joyful cry, greeting the clouds below him and the sky above, daring the sun to burn his cheeks and deciding that he would spit upon it if it chose to do so.

At the wheel sat Ron Weasley, singing loudly and off-key along to some random song that was playing on W23. Hermione was beside him drumming her fingers on the dashboard, occasionally telling Seamus to put his arse safely upon the seat so that he didn’t get sucked out and fly away into nothingness. He did not heed her warnings, and no one really cared.

No one was complaining today. Seamus refused to let them.

After all, the world was his oyster and it was filled with pearls…or so it seemed.

*

Harry skipped across his living room in sheer giddiness. Draco watched him dubiously as he finished hanging the last length of crepe paper along the ceiling, wand twitching on its own accord between his fingers.

“Dear God, one would think that you’d swallowed fireworks with the way you’re flouncing about.”

He bounced back to his starting point and surveyed the room in satisfaction. “I can’t help it! I haven’t seen the old crew in months and now they’re all coming to visit and Seamus is famous even. It’s all…so…exciting!”

“That’s not the word I’d call it, personally,”

“You’re a stick in the mud, darling.”

“Why thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“How many of your lovely friends are going to be here, again?”

“Oh, all of them. Maybe sixty or so.”

“And remind me why this is at our flat?”

Harry glared at him. “Because ours is by far the nicest. You made sure of pointing that out to everyone we’ve ever met, remember?”

Draco scoffed, “Oh, blame it on me.”

“I’m not,” he replied, “I’m blaming it on your ego. It’s so large it might as well be a separate entity.”

“One more word Potter…” Draco hissed, pointing his wand menacingly in the direction of the decorations.

“When is the caterer arriving?” Harry asked, flopping gracelessly onto the sofa.

Draco’s arm dropped, and he turned slowly, the look on his face fearful. “Caterer? I don’t know. When did they say?”

“Well I haven’t talked to him. You said you were phoning him.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did! Oh for God’s sake, Draco. Are you telling me that you didn’t order the caterer?”

“I thought you were doing that.”

Harry groaned, tugging on his hair. “You told me you were handling it.”

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but the expression on Harry’s face told him it would be better not even to bother. He stood, grumbling, and padded over to the phone. Draco looked almost guilty for a moment, but it passed and he decided instead to sulk. Hey, it had always worked for him in the past.

*

“Hey there gorgeous.”

“Hello, Amanda.”

“Hmm, bad day?”

“Not the best.”

“How ‘bout I make you feel better, then?”

Dean gave his wife a very deadpan look. Out popped her bottom lip, stained pink in an attempt to look more appealing.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked, maneuvering her tanned body so that she was sitting upon his lap. She saw lying on the coffee table a silver card reading “Welcome Home Seamus.” She grabbed it up and stared at it. “Oh God, were you invited to this thing?”

“Of course I was,” Dean snapped, snatching it from her. “We were mates in school, after all.”

“And is this why you’re upset?” she said, jabbing a pointy acrylic-nailed finger in his face. “Because of a party invitation?”

“No, Mandy, not at all! I’m…bad day at work, that’s all.”

“Hmm. Oh.”

“You don’t believe me.” This was not a question. She never believed him, and with good reason.

“You didn’t work today, that’s why.”

“I didn’t?”

“No, you didn’t.”

Dean sighed. He hadn’t.

“Are we still going to dinner tonight, then?” She waved the glossy invitation in front of his nose.

He watched it go back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He glared at it, and then knocked it out of her hands.

“Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we?”

She smiled at him. There was a hint of evil in those eyes. “That’s my boy,” she whispered, patting his cheek.

*

“SURPRISE!”

Pop, bang, crack went the room as Seamus burst in, smiling like a schoolboy. Massive cheers erupted and somebody in the back began a positively rancid version of “For He’s a Jolly Good Wizard.”

“Holy crap!” was what he said, even though it wasn’t a surprise at all.

“Welcome home, S!” he heard Harry say. (Or perhaps, more appropriately, scream, as very little could be heard over the…erm…fabulous singers.) Pushing his way through the crowd he jumped on top of the bouncy Irishman, enveloping him in a Very Harry Bear Hug ®. Seamus was practically bubbling over with happiness as the rest of the great lot spilled onto them, and it became something of a massive Gryffindor reunion group embrace.

Once they’d all calmed down a bit, Seamus stood on top of a chair before them, smiling as only he could. He surveyed the crowd for a moment, scanning for…

Huh, that’s odd…

He pushed the thought aside temporarily. “I’ve missed you all so, so much,” he said. There was much cheering. “And I will have missed you all a lot more when I find out that you bought our record.” Everyone laughed, but they all knew it was true, and many of them had brought the aforementioned record in hopes of getting themselves a free autograph. “Now, I know that, seeing as you are all wizards, it was rather odd to have gone out and gotten a Muggle record...”

Draco turned to Harry and whispered softly, “My, he sounds oddly like a certain blonde git who taught DADA our second year, don’t you agree?”

Harry slugged him.

“…and I appreciate it so, so very much. I’ve brought gifts for all of you!”

This brought cheering the likes of which not even the Quidditch Cup could rival. Seamus fought the urge not to chuckle…they’d all be in for quite a surprise when they found Canary Creams in their boxes nestled in with the Turkish Delights, chocolate frogs, chocolate dipped strawberries, and other more expensive goodies. The Weasley twins offered a thumbs-up.

Seamus chuckled. “And now...now…um…Harry, what now?”

“Oh, get on with the party, you gits,” Draco said loudly. Ron snarled at him, Hermione rolled her eyes, and Harry slugged him again.

Seamus hopped off the table and strode over to the Trio (and blonde bitch lover), intent on offering his thanks and what not…and also to ask a question.

“You ham,” Harry said, giving him another hug. “Are you surprised?”

“No, of course not. I’ve known about this since I left.”

“Hence the gifts, Einstein,” Malfoy snapped, pouting.

“You’re just jealous he’s not hugging you,” Hermione said, tweaking his ear. He wriggled away, face darkening into a scowl.

“So…um. Where’s Dean?” he asked, bouncing on his heels.

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances. Harry cocked his head to the side. Draco…well, he just pouted.

“He’s going to be a bit late,” Hermione said reassuringly, patting his shoulder.

“Why?”

Ron grinned uneasily. “Um…well, um…business trip. Yeah.” Seamus looked crushed.

“How unlike him,” Harry said, frowning. Then he brightened. “Let’s not worry about that though. He’ll be here soon, S! Let’s go find Lavender and the girls, yeah?”

“Um…sure. Alright,” Seamus replied uncertainly, looking down at the ground. Harry led him away, shooting Ron and Hermione a questioning look over his shoulder. Both appeared rather guilty.

Draco grinned. “And what, praytell, is going on with this then, hmm?”

“Go thumb your fudge maker, Malfoy!” Ron snapped. Hermione scolded him and then, much as Harry had with Seamus, led him away.

Draco watched them go with an unmistakably devious grin on his face.

Someone was going to have their heart broken, and soon at that.

*

The night passed into a blur of drunken happiness, and the following morning when Seamus found himself awake in Harry’s guest bedroom, he almost couldn’t remember why he was there. He had been having a rather bad dream, one concerning Dean, a large snake, and…gym socks, actually, and he was feeling a bit discombobulated. Of course, that might have been because he had little recollection of the night before and a whole lot of headache.

Turning over to hide his face from the sun, he buried it in his pillow, drew the covers over his head, and drifted back into a restless slumber.

*

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked exhaustedly over his cup of tea, Draco leaning his head groggily on his shoulder and absently kneading his thigh. He tried in vain to brush it away. “Seamus is going to be devastated...that’s really not fair to him at all.”

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “I know…I just…I didn’t know for sure. And I couldn’t wreck the night, could I? You saw him, nancing about like a twelve year old.”

“It’s not unexpected,” Draco said thoughtfully. “He was never really gay enough for my tastes.”

“Shut up.” Hermione and Harry said at the same time.

Ron, who was dozing peacefully in his plate of eggs, began to snore.

“How long have they been together?”

“A while. Got married two weeks ago, from what Jenny said. Just got back from their honeymoon, actually.”

“So who is the girl? Is it someone we know?” Harry asked, pushing the blonde away.

“I don’t know her. Her name is…Amanda…Pritchett, maybe? She’s somebody’s sister, that’s all I know.”

“Amanda Abbott, Hannah Abbott’s sister,” Draco said, suddenly having gained real interest in what was being said. Harry stared at him curiously.

“That’s it,” she replied incredulously. “How did you know that?”

Any sign of Draco’s previous prattiness was gone. It was replaced by Business!Draco. “Ms. Abbott-Thomas now-works at Rocket’s; she does the little twirly gig thing. And she knew Dean; was good friends with him actually. And she’s been gone for two weeks now, hasn’t she, Harry?”

“That’s right. Wow, good thinking.” He allowed him to nestle on his shoulder again. “Five points to Slytherin.”

“What is Rocket’s?”

“Our gym,” they replied simultaneously.

Hermione rolled her eyes heavenward. “Good God, Dean’s gone off and married a gym instructor?”

“A tall, dark, sleazy gym instructor to be exact,” Harry replied.

“And a Muggle.” Draco muttered disgustedly. “What a bitch.”

Harry and Hermione looked mutually shocked. “A Muggle? Amanda Abbott is a Muggle?” Hermione murmured. Her eyes were like dinner plates. “Why in the world would he do that?”

“Simple, dearest,” Draco replied, sliding in closer to Harry. “She’s everything-I mean everything- that Seamus is not.”

Harry looked extremely crest fallen. “Why…why would he do that? Dean and Seamus, not together…that…that’s just not natural.”

There was silence for a few moments, outside of Ron’s snoring.

“I thought they were so in love,” Harry murmured.

“Well…as I’ve always said…absence makes the heart wander.”

“Everything makes your heart wander, Draco.”

“Not chest hair. Blecch.”

Hermione put the small spoon on the saucer into her cup. “This is positively dreadful.”

Draco was about to reply, but Harry clapped a hand over his mouth. “What are we going to tell Seamus, then?”

Hermione’s shoulders sagged. “I…I don’t know, Harry. I just don’t know.”

*

Thankfully, the subject of Dean didn’t arise for several days. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and even sometimes Draco (who insisted “Of course I can’t stand him, I just like shopping, that’s all!”) spent the time taking him places, visiting friends, getting drunk and just generally having fun. It was all underscored, however, by the fact that it was simply a rouse to cover up the dark matter at hand. The elephant in the living room grew larger each passing day until it began pushing against the walls.

The trouble began on Tuesday.

“So um…why wasn’t Dean at my party?” Seamus asked, hands occupied with playing cards.

Ron coughed into the bowl of twiglets. Draco glared at him and snatched it away.

“I’ll raise you fifty,” said Harry, placing a few chips down.

“Screw it; I fold,” said Draco a few moments later.

Seamus stared at them expectantly.

“I second that,” said Hermione. “Dishes need doing. I’ll go get started. Draco. Come help me dry.”

“Just use magic, Mu-“ she glared at him menacingly. “Oh. Oh. Right. Good game, everyone.” He stood quickly and rushed out, taking the infected snacks with him.

“You’re on you own, mate,” Ron said, darting up after him.

“’On your own’, Harry? What’s going on? Why hasn’t Dean called me? What the hell is wrong with everybody?” Seamus demanded, gaze now directed soley toward the aptly-named WonderBoy. He wasn’t feeling so wonderful at the moment, though.

“Erm, well…he…he was…that is to say, he is…” Harry chewed on his nails. “Say, wanna go ride around on my new Obis?”

Seamus’s chocolaty eyes narrowed dangerously, and his oddly colored hair, sticking up today in great long points, only added to the affect. “What is going on?”

“It…it’s really fast and shiny-“

The glare grew fiercer.

“It does…it does this really neat vibrating thing that makes your bum feel fantastic-“

“Harry Potter, just because Voldemort couldn’t defeat you doesn’t mean that I can’t.”

“…and, it’s new too, really new, so new that it hasn’t been mass pro-“

Seamus’s fists hit the table. “I don’t give a shit about your broom! What in the hell is going on?!!”

A bit of sweat slid down Harry’s forehead. “Nothing, Seamus, really.”

“You liar.”

“I am not a liar.”

Seamus pulled out his wand. “Tell me now or I’ll turn you into a newt to go with your dumb-shit ferret of a boyfriend.”

Draco made a strangled noise from the kitchen.

“It…it really isn’t my place.”

Seamus broke then, and tears began to fill his eyes. Pandora’s box was opened. Or…something like that. “Harry…please. Please tell me.”

Harry gave a silent prayer, hoping that somebody out there would help him. “Seamus…um…Dean…well, Dean…”

Ron burst out of the kitchen. “Seamus, Dean married Amanda Abbott while you were gone and nobody knows why and it’s not a lie because Penny Thomas told me herself.”

All was still. Draco and Hermione had come out of the kitchen, and were staring at Ron incredulously. Harry’s head had dropped into his hands. Seamus blinked at him.

“You…you…I…” he stammered. “I…this is the most fucked-up joke you’ve ever played on me.”

“It’s not a joke, Seamus,” Draco whispered.

Harry nodded at him.

“You…you…I hate you all. All of you!” he sprang up from his chair and it fell to the ground with a crash. He stared at all of them in utter disbelief, tears running down his face. He muttered “I hate you” one more time before dashing up the stairs. A few moments later they heard his door slam and the locks being bolted. Then the sobbing began.

Ron fell back against the wall. “He is not taking this well at all.”

“How did you expect him to take it, you Weasley?” Draco spat. He crossed the room and took Harry’s hand. “Come on love. Let’s go to the pub.”

Harry muttered something into his chest sadly. Draco nodded, and then they vanished.

Hermione reached over and gave Ron’s shoulder a squeeze. “I think you did the right thing, dear.”

“Not hardly. I don’t think he believed me.”

She studied him for a moment. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have. Do…do you think he’ll be alright?”

Ron then did something he had only done once before. He looked very tired and very old. “Honestly, ‘Mione…I don’t think so. Not yet anyway.”

The sobbing subsided, and once more, there was silence.

to be continued…