Work Text:
“There you lot are!” Seamus called, coming out of the loo to find Harry and Ron at the bar. “We were wondering if you were going to turn up.”
The pair looked up and smiled as he came over to the bar.
“We had to stop by Hermione’s parents,” Harry explained. “Wanted us to pick up this armoire.”
“Gastly thing that,” Ron said, pulling a face and then glanced quickly over his shoulder to ensure that Hermione wasn’t right behind them. And then, in a louder voice, “Which we’re really grateful for.”
“Moves going well then?” Seamus asked, taking the empty stool next to them while they waited on the bartender to come and serve them.
The pair looked at one another and then rolled their eyes.
“About as well as you’d think,” Harry said quietly but Ron, evidently still miffed about the entire armoire experience, was much more vocal.
“We’d have it done already but Hermione insists on going back through and resorting everything.” He said, annoyed. “We get off at six and make progress but she doesn’t get home until eight and then rather than eating and relaxing we spend the next two hours redoing everything that we’ve done. Never mind that she still has work to do and then we have about a dozen owls about the wedding we still have to answer before bed.”
He trailed off, mumbling to himself and when Clarissa, the pretty witch who Seamus was still convinced would one day accept his invitation to join them, came over, already carrying their usual drinks he downed half of his in one go.
“They alright?” Seamus asked quietly as Ron wandered back towards the table.
Harry, shaking his head after his mate, shrugged. “They’ll be fine. They picked just about the worst time of year to have a wedding. The Wizengamont breaks for the season the day before their wedding which means Hermione's just frantic trying to get all these reforms through and it’s only her first year on the job still.”
“Sounds fun to live with,” Seamus said quietly and Harry grinned at him.
“Only a couple of weeks left,” Harry said though he didn’t sound so sure of it. “As long as we can make it there then everything will go back to normal.”
And the way he trailed off was even less convincing. He considered asking, but from the forlorn look on Harry’s face, they were straying dangerously into a conversation Seamus knew he wasn’t equipped to handle.
“How’s the new place?” Seamus asked, trying to distract him. “Or the better question, when’s the housewarming party?”
It seemed to do the trick because Harry laughed and looked like his usual self. “Who’s to say we haven’t already had one and not invited you?”
Seamus faked a betrayed look. “You’d never!”
“The kitchen table’s never been the same you know.”
“That’s all down to shoddy workmanship,” Seamus said, “If Granger couldn’t fix it then it wasn’t built very well to begin with.”
“Or perhaps it just wasn’t designed to have a drunk Irishman showing off a truly terrible rendition of a jig.”
“Oi,” Seamus said, “What was it designed for then?”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head.
“Serious, when are we breaking this place in?” Seamus asked, “I’ve already been deprived of a stag night, don’t tell me that we’re not breaking in the new place too.”
“We had a stag night,” Harry argued.
“Having a sit-down dinner with Granger and all her work friends invited is not a proper stag night,” Seamus said sternly. “No birds invited.”
“They wanted a joint thing,” Harry shrugged. “Not like we’ve had a lot of time anyway, hadn’t had a weekend off since Christmas.”
“Just shows you they don’t know how to throw a party,” Seamus said.
Harry grinned and shook his head, eyes wandering again over to where Ron and Hermione were sitting, Ron’s arm thrown around her shoulders, both in different conversations. That intense look was back, uncomfortable to even be sitting next to. They’d all been talking about it, how they thought Harry would fair alone in a brand new flat for a month while Ron and Hermione trotted the globe. He was suddenly struck with inspiration.
“We could throw one without them you know,” he said deviously.
“What?” Harry asked, not moving his eyes.
“A housewarming,” Seamus said and Harry looked up confused. “Oh, come on. You’ll have the new place for yourself for a month, perfect opportunity to break the place in without Granger there to lecture me when I break another piece of furniture.”
He expected a dismissal, Harry so rarely did anything without Ron and Hermione that him throwing a party without them was completely out of the realm of possibility.
But instead of shaking his head or laughing, Harry’s face fell and he looked heartbroken and a little angry. “It’s not my place.”
“What?”
“They’re getting married,” Harry said and there was a quiet rage to his words. “Moving out. I’m not going with them.”
“Sorry,” Seamus said at once, “We just thought-“
“Yeah, well, that’s not the case is it?”
And for all his joking and teasing, Seamus wasn’t entirely sure where he’d gone wrong. What he’d done to inspire the sudden anger in his mate.
“Harry, I-“
“Forget it,” Harry said a sudden flurry of movement. He finished his drink, pulled a gallon from his pocket and tossed it carelessly onto the bar and buttoned his cloak. “Drink on whatever’s leftover.”
And before Seamus could do anything more than open his mouth stupidly, Harry was gone. Clarissa, who’d hurried over to see if everything was alright, turned to Seamus. “What’d you do this time?”
“Nothing,” Seamus said honestly, staring still at the door Harry had fled through. “I just asked— you thought he was moving too, didn’t you?”
“He’s not?” she asked, “The three of them were in here for dinner last week, talking about the furniture they’d picked out.” She frowned, picking up the gallon. “Should you go after him?”
Seamus was just about to say I doubt he wants to talk to me. When Ron and Hermione, arms still around one another, appeared suddenly at his side.
“Did Harry just run off?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah,” Seamus said, “I was just asking about the new place and-“
But before he could get anything else out they were gone too, another gallon clattering against the bar and the second slamming of a door.
“I don’t know why they bother,” Clarissa said, amused, as she picked up the gallon. “They always overpay for everything.”
Usually, Seamus would say something about the quality of her service but he was still trying to figure out what just happened. Clarissa let out a soft sigh and he turned to her expectantly.
“I hope they figure it out,” she told him, summoning Ron and Hermione’s empty glasses from the table with a flick of her wand.
“Figure what out?” Seamus asked, feeling just as confused as ever. But Clarissa merely winked at him and moved towards the till. He’d come to the pub for their usual Thursday night drinks, not to feel like he’d done something monumentally wrong. “Figure what out!”