Not Quite Dark Magic

Blaisus

Hermione truly thought it was amazing the way she seemed to attract people during a war setting. For someone who was not particularly well liked during her school days, she couldn't help but write it up as an anomaly more often than not. But the facts spoke for themselves: she was never given alone time.

Sitting in her room she was most often interrupted by Draco or Fred, and if she was holed up in more common areas it seemed almost anyone would approach her to make idle chat. She was quite the hot commodity but she chalked most of that up to her role as an Order member.

Today, as she was lounging in the first floor living room, feet thrown over the arm of the sofa and reading through the most recent interrogation reports, she was approached by Seamus.

She should have seen this coming, honestly. She'd done her best to avoid him after Draco had broken the news to him, and now that Blaise was awake and they had confirmed that the binding ceremony would be happening tonight, she shouldn't have been at all surprised.

But she was. And unprepared. She had nothing positive or enlightening to say to him that might lighten the load on his shoulders. He looked stressed beyond words; panic highlighting his eyes and tense muscles outlining his body.

He had grown into himself quite well, around the time he ceased blowing things up with every unfamiliar spell. He grew into his scrawny build, as most of them had due to the sheer amount of activity they participated in. He'd let his hair grow out a bit, and during the hot, humid summers it curled slightly with his sweat. He had a sweet smile and good intentions. In another life, she could see herself being interested.

Not this one, though.

"Good afternoon, Seamus."

"Hermione." He flopped down beside her, mimicking her pose so that their heads met in the middle cushion and he had to crane his neck to look into her eyes. "This is for you." He handed her a piece of parchment.

Hermione opened it up and skimmed through the crooked handwriting.

"Seamus, this is a resignation letter."

"Yes, I gave it my best go, but I think accounting is more my style."

Hermione smacked his head with the letter. "I don't think Gringotts is hiring half breeds at the moment, why don't you try again in a few years."

"What's that about half breeds?" Theo entered the room and plopped down at the foot of the couch. "You know that term offends me so."

"Finnegan is scared of Zabini."

Seamus gasped and sat up. "I am not! It's just time for me to move onto bigger and better things. The war effort is too small scale for me."

"Yes, you'll really find your niche counting coins behind a desk," Hermione replied drily. "Get a move on, Seamus. Draco is apparating Zabini over in an hour and it sounds like you've yet to start mentally preparing."

"This is so not fair," Seamus whined, face twisting into the most pathetic attempt of sorrow. "I've got the worst partner in all the Order."

Hermione sat up and placed a challenging glare on Seamus. "I'm bound to an actual Death Eater. Zabini was just a wannabe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Seamus crossed his arms over his chest.

"It means I have the worst partner."

"As if!"

"Let's see, shall we?" Hermione began, holding her fingers out as she checked off her mental list, "he's prejudiced, biased, naive and stupid."