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
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Her head tilted toward his touch, cheek resting against his wrist as he cupped her head. She brushed her fingers over a streak of dirt that hadn't been cleaned off his face.
"It really was just a scratch. Harry showed up before I got more than the claws." She definitely owed Harry some sort of thank you for saving them. They probably got a pass since he was friends with Seamus, but that was beside the point.
"I'm okay. I promise. A few scars are nothing." Her eyes cut briefly toward his shoulder, toward the bite scars hidden on his shoulder. "It doesn't even matter." Any other time, Orla may have had some sort of break down over the ragged lines that would never fully disappear from her waist, but she couldn't think about that or even the cold, artificial, hospital air chilling her through her thin and ripped dress. All she could focus on was the concern in Seamus' blue eyes. and the overwhelming need to take that away if she could.
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Though, if his da heard him using the Lord's name in such a way, magic world of spells and broom sticks or not, he would have smacked Seamus upside the head.
Not that he was thinking about his parents right now, even though he probably should make a note to visit and tell his mam all about this.
Right now all that really mattered was that Orla hadn't been bitten and she was safe. And he owed that to Harry-
"Orla, why would you ever come after me like that? I can't believe-"
But part of him did believe it, knowing that if their roles had been reversed then he would have run out after her too.
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"I didn't know where you were." She remembered times like that. When the War had been raging and the Battle had come to Hogwarts, she'd been terrified of what might happen to Seamus. She should have known, even then, that they'd never really be over or rid of each other.
"You were supposed to be there. If I could stop you? I had to try." She was staring at the contrast of the hospital gown he'd been put in and her tattered dress, trying to find anything to distract her from how watery her eyes felt. She looked up at him anyway, trying to blink back tears and failing miserably as a couple managed to slip out.
She wasn't this girl anymore. She didn't cry on him because she was worried, especially when that was the last thing he needed - to worry over her the way she knew he would.
"This is exactly what I was trying not to let happen to you."
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This moment right here, the moment when Orla was crying and they had been so close to losing each other, was what he had been trying to avoid.
Somehow he thought that if they ignored their feelings and kept each other at an arms length that they could get around this.
"Don't be sorry. It's alright," he told her softly, thumb catching a few fallen tears. The last thing he wanted to do was see her cry over him and he'd lie if it meant making her feel better.
"I was the one that was late. You didn't do this, okay?"
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This was a completely different situation. He'd very nearly died. It might not be her fault, and on some level she knew that, but the guilt still weighed heavily on her heart, building a tight knot in her throat.
"If I hadn't asked you to Kiki's stupid party, you wouldn't be in this mess. You'd be fine." She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before pressing a hand to his and holding it against where he'd brushed the tears from her cheek. "It's such a disaster. And on your birthday."
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"This isn't your fault," he told her firmly, leaning in a little bit further as his fingers twisted into her hair.
"You know I would have ended up at any party you were last night-"
He said it before he could stop himself, maybe the calming drought making his tongue looser.
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"I know." That was always the plan. That's what they did the night before his birthday. It was always this game for them, the contrast to the dinner and champagne that they reserved for hers.
It was a standing date, one they hadn't missed in years. Seamus was completely right. She could have gone to a Muggle house party, and he'd have followed her without a second thought.
Overall, she knew this wasn't her fault. With his hand so insistent in her hair and his eyes such a bright blue, stark against him paler than usual skin, she would have believed anything he said, but she knew he was right about this.
She still felt insanely guilty.
"I just hate seeing you like this," Orla confessed. Carefully, more gently than she ever behaved with him, she framed his face with her hands. "And not being able to do anything about it."
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He had fallen into such a strange relationship with Orla since they'd broken up, swearing up and down that they didn't expect anything from each other when the truth was they would have given anything for each other.
"We can change that," he told her lightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I could probably use some help getting out of here and maybe a late breakfast at my flat?"
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The truth was, as always, all he had to do was smile at her, and he had her attention in a minute.
They circled each other so often, were so ridiculously aware of one another, that it shouldn't be shocking that they'd ended up here. The first real crisis they'd had to deal with since school, and it ended up with them sitting on a hospital bed, reluctant to let go.
If their carefully orchestrated semblances were hard to maintain on a good day, Orla had to admit she wasn't even trying anymore, not just then. She couldn't, not when she'd been attacked and had no idea how that would affect her while Seamus had actually been bitten by a werewolf, which they had carefully managed not to talk about yet.
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But the whole thing brought Seamus right back to his seventh year, the war raging on, and he remembered that their lives were so fucking fragile it was disgusting.
He was man enough to admit that he needed her to help him today, wanted her there to take care of him and to keep him from being alone.
"Of course I am," he told her, smiling a little bit easier now, "Do you really expect anything less from me?"
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Orla was beyond relieved that Seamus wanted her with him today. She'd been so panicked when she couldn't get any information on him that she didn't think she could tolerate being away from him, at least for a little while.
"If they let you out, I promise you pancakes." And probably a lot of bacon. Orla was having weird cravings, which reminded her that she needed to catch up on her werewolf information.
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But Orla's pancakes were like magic, perfectly soft and fluffy and exactly what he needed right now.
"You're brilliant, you know," he told her and he meant it, for more reasons than just the food.
"How does this work now? Do we call somebody in or do I just get up?"
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For all they acted like random hook ups were all they were - even though everyone knew it was anything but random - they spent the night with each other often enough that she made breakfast a bit of a habit, always under the pretense that they had to eat anyway. Really, she just liked doing things that Seamus liked.
That impulse was stronger now.
Orla bit at her lip and shrugged. "I don't know? They'll probably want to see you?" She hadn't asked what to do when he woke up, too preoccupied with if he would.
"I just got up and walked out, but they weren't very pleased with me. I was insufferable though, so they brought me here."
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Though, an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach when he realized that he was the reason that she needed to be brought in in the first place. If he had just been on time or if he had been a little quicker with his wand rather than running then she would have never come looking.
He knew that if he kept thinking that way, rather than focusing on the fact that she was here and she was okay and in one beautiful piece, he'd drive himself crazy.
"You act like I'm known for following the rules," he told her, laughing lightly.
"But- well, considering, maybe we should call in a healer? Or at least go to the front desk before I walk out."
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It was the only logical course of action, actually. Orla was probably going to make a whole production fussing over Seamus for the next little bit, but she'd be so much more annoying about it if a healer didn't clear him first. She didn't so much mind disappearing herself, a few scratches likely to cause some odd side effects but nothing serious not too bad in the grand scheme of things. Seamus, though, had been bitten by a werewolf. He might be talking now, but Orla was paranoid that he'd try to stand and collapse or something else completely disastrous.
"This is my new rule. And you're following it." She leaned away from him, a hand settling on his chest to maintain contact as long as possible, until she could hit the button that would call a healer to the room.
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Though, he really shouldn't have been surprised and he definitely wasn't going to argue when Orla started fusing over him. It was actually kind of nice, in a strange way that brought him back to their soft and tender moments back at the castle, those first few very blissful weeks of their relationship before everything went straight to hell.
Before he could say anything a healer was walking through his door, actually impressed by how quickly they responded.
"Mr. Finnigan. It's so good to see you awake," she said, a bright smile on her face as she flipped through his chart. "I have to say, I'm relieved to see how much you've improved-"
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