finnagoon

This was a very strange feeling, the buzz and energy that started earlier that morning that kept him pacing and active since the moment he had woken up. Thankfully Seamus was back in Ireland, waking up in his childhood bed strange enough, and there was plenty to do to actually keep him busy. Though, there didn't seem to be anything that could actually tire him out. His father had never seen anyone work so hard or so long, especially with out a single complaint. It was like this wasn't even Seamus Finnigan anymore, stronger work ethic and more eager than he had been in years (which didn't include his attitude towards his own shop but his father hardly ever made it out to London to see that).

Then again, maybe he wasn't the same Seamus Finnigan anymore.

It was like his body knew that something was coming and it was pretty damn hard to deny it anymore. Seamus was growing more anxious, eating his dinner standing up rather than sitting down at the dinner table and that was something that his mam had always hated. But tonight she didn't say anything about it because there was that sad look in her eyes when she glanced outside to see the sun sinking lower into the rolling hills of the farm, the gorgeous peachy glow that took over the sky suddenly more dreary than beautiful.

His father tried to understand, asking questions about it until his mother sushed him and an uncomfortable silence washed over the kitchen, disrupted only by Seamus's squeaky sneakers.

After dinner Seamus made his way outside, waving a strange and long goodbye to his mam as he watched her put up the remaining wards on the house.

Then, suddenly, he began to rush, as fast and as far as he could because he didn't want his parents to hear it, those screams he knew would be coming as the transformation started.

Seamus had been feeling strange all week. Well, actually, he'd been feeling strange all month, not quite himself since waking up in St. Mungo's with a fresh set of scars on his shoulder as a constant reminder for what was waiting for him during every full moon. But he'd gone from incredibly angry to actually dying and the last few days he just couldn't sit still, pacing around at home and when he was at the store, like his body was trying to get him ready for something.

There was nothing, no amount of time or prep, that could have gotten him ready for what was coming.

He knew that he needed to calm down, needed to do something to take his mind off of this whole thing, even if it was just for a few hours. He was about to drive himself mad, every day counting the minutes until sundown and every night watching to moon grow a little bit fuller, the way it teased and haunted him through his bedroom window.

It was later in the afternoon and he'd already closed his shop, rushing out and mumbling his apology to the couple that was just headed his way at the time. His night shift cashier would be there in an hour but he just didn't have it in him to wait, feeling stifled in the shop and it was a little bit heartbreaking, remember how much time he could waste just restocking shelves and reorganizing, more proud than he'd ever been in his life to have his doors open.

With out even thinking about it he found himself at the front entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, walking up to the bar as if this was part of his normal routine, though he may have been a little bit more fidgety than usual.

Seamus had completely blacked out shortly after his attack, remembering only the feel of the wolf's razor sharp teeth sinking into his arm as it began to pull him away from the house and back towards the bush where it had been originally hiding. It was very possible he had gone into complete shock, fighting against it briefly before his body began to slow down and his heart rate slowed.

Then everything started to get very quiet, the howling faded away as his body grew cold and his vision dimmed.

It was almost a full twelve hours later that Seamus woke up in the hospital bed, head foggy and a dull ache settling into his left arm. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the bright, florescent lighting as he tried to figure out exactly where he was, knowing that neither Orla or himself had beds this stiff or lights this bright. He would have never gotten so drunk as to end up in somebody else's bed, not when he had a long standing date (no, it wasn't exactly a date but the semantics were important) every St. Patty's Day Eve.

Then the room came into focus and he noticed a familiar mess of bright red hair and long ivory legs all curled up in what seemed to be the most uncomfortable chair ever built.

And that was when it all started to come back to him, his last thoughts of Orla as he raced towards the house-

He sat up quickly, wincing slightly as his arms pulled him upward. The wound had healed but his muscles were still repairing themselves and when he gently pulled back the hospital gown he could already see the bright white scar tissue beginning to form. His stomach sank as reality hit him.

Every first of March for the last six years Seamus had a little ritual, making sure that he got two very important owls out.

( Owl and Flowers to OrlaCollapse )
( Owl to RonCollapse )

It had been a particularly busy today in the shop today but then again, Tuesdays usually were. There was always an influx of women coming in, stocking up for something that they called Wine Wednesdays and completely buying him out of the cheaper bottles and boxes of reds, blushes, and whites. The same groups came in like clock work every week, lingering at the counter as they swapped stories with him, and Seamus grinned, wondering how much truth their wild and crazy drunk memories really held.

As amusing as he found his regulars, particularly the much younger, bright eyed, and newly legal women that found their way through his doors, tonight Seamus kept checking the clock. It wasn't usually for him to lose track of him completely, falling deep into conversation or taking a quick inventory check after locking up, but he to remind himself that he had a delivery.

Once everything was locked up, doing a quick sweep of the front of the store, Seamus slipped out the back, wheeling a stack of crates behind him. The streets were empty and the walk wasn't very far at all but it was nice to get some fresh air. Being cooped up inside the shop all day could be maddening, no matter how many beautiful ladies came in the chat with him.

He pulled his little cart up to the back door of the Leaky Cauldron, pressing down the brake pad before banging on the back door.

Seamus Finnigan


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