RP: Mummy's
Characters: Seamus Finnigan, Holly Finnigan (npc), Robert Finnigan (npc).
Date: 11th of August, 2000.
Location(s): St. Mungo's.
Summary: Again and again.
Status/Warning: None.
Completion: Complete.
"Why don't you want anyone in, son?" asked Mrs. Finnigan, pursing her lips. "You've got friends, an' they've likely been callin' for you -- why not let 'em to the room? You're better than before, even better than this morning."
"You are," repeated Mr. Finnigan. "You really are. Swear I'd never guess you been here for days. Look like they brought you in for that nasty shoulder only."
"What we mean is: Sea, dearest..." mum began again; they joined hands, pausing. "It's not like it was, you know, even ten years ago -- five! -- for... For..."
"People like you," offered Mr. Finnigan.
"Yes," said Mrs. Finnigan, "people like you. But you're still just the way you were before, yeah?"
"For feck's sake, mum." Seamus grimaced, closing his eyes.
"You see! Just the way! And... Language, sweet."
Mr. Finnigan attempted laughter; it was more an abrupt snort.
"Right!" Mum leaned back in her chair, putting her head in her hands. "You'll be havin' your life again, ain't like when we were nineteen -- you've got wolfsbane, and the ministry what'll look after you--"
"The ministry what'll look after him," repeated da dully. "Jaysus."
"Jaysus indeed! But -- dearly, darlin', you don't have to worry. We love you just the same, don't we? An' you got friends just the same. You got your job. Sea, you got so much potential. We haven't had time to say -- haven't had time to talk, no, since you been in -- but I know you do, and da knows you do, and all the family knows it's still there. You know it, too!"
"From how he talks," remarked Mr. Finnigan.
"Yes, you've always been a talker," mum sparkled. "Always been me little rebel. Mummy's reb--"
"Mummy's rebel, mummy's rebel."
"Quiet, Rob," said Mrs. Finnigan. "Our son should be hearin' this."
"Should he?"
"Yes. An' he needs to know, nothing's going to change jus' because... Because of this. S'ok to want his friends around -- let people in. That's how it was and how it needs to be. What about that nice girl he's been seein'? And his Gryffindors he's always talkin' about! Ain't nothin' wrong with lettin' people--"
"Shh, Holly."
"You shh! You shut your--"
"No," said da, closing his newspaper. "Look up, dearie: lad's sleepin' again."
Something dark passed over Mrs. Finnigan's face as she lifted it to see. The expression was silent, contemplative; as Seamus' chest rose and fell the sheets were drawn up to his chin, smoothed lovingly. There was nothing to be done but exchange looks through the silence in the room, purse lips, shake heads. It was a partnership, if not a greying one.
"Again... Oh, Robert..."
Date: 11th of August, 2000.
Location(s): St. Mungo's.
Summary: Again and again.
Status/Warning: None.
Completion: Complete.
"Why don't you want anyone in, son?" asked Mrs. Finnigan, pursing her lips. "You've got friends, an' they've likely been callin' for you -- why not let 'em to the room? You're better than before, even better than this morning."
"You are," repeated Mr. Finnigan. "You really are. Swear I'd never guess you been here for days. Look like they brought you in for that nasty shoulder only."
"What we mean is: Sea, dearest..." mum began again; they joined hands, pausing. "It's not like it was, you know, even ten years ago -- five! -- for... For..."
"People like you," offered Mr. Finnigan.
"Yes," said Mrs. Finnigan, "people like you. But you're still just the way you were before, yeah?"
"For feck's sake, mum." Seamus grimaced, closing his eyes.
"You see! Just the way! And... Language, sweet."
Mr. Finnigan attempted laughter; it was more an abrupt snort.
"Right!" Mum leaned back in her chair, putting her head in her hands. "You'll be havin' your life again, ain't like when we were nineteen -- you've got wolfsbane, and the ministry what'll look after you--"
"The ministry what'll look after him," repeated da dully. "Jaysus."
"Jaysus indeed! But -- dearly, darlin', you don't have to worry. We love you just the same, don't we? An' you got friends just the same. You got your job. Sea, you got so much potential. We haven't had time to say -- haven't had time to talk, no, since you been in -- but I know you do, and da knows you do, and all the family knows it's still there. You know it, too!"
"From how he talks," remarked Mr. Finnigan.
"Yes, you've always been a talker," mum sparkled. "Always been me little rebel. Mummy's reb--"
"Mummy's rebel, mummy's rebel."
"Quiet, Rob," said Mrs. Finnigan. "Our son should be hearin' this."
"Should he?"
"Yes. An' he needs to know, nothing's going to change jus' because... Because of this. S'ok to want his friends around -- let people in. That's how it was and how it needs to be. What about that nice girl he's been seein'? And his Gryffindors he's always talkin' about! Ain't nothin' wrong with lettin' people--"
"Shh, Holly."
"You shh! You shut your--"
"No," said da, closing his newspaper. "Look up, dearie: lad's sleepin' again."
Something dark passed over Mrs. Finnigan's face as she lifted it to see. The expression was silent, contemplative; as Seamus' chest rose and fell the sheets were drawn up to his chin, smoothed lovingly. There was nothing to be done but exchange looks through the silence in the room, purse lips, shake heads. It was a partnership, if not a greying one.
"Again... Oh, Robert..."