Closed; Personal Delivery to the Leaky
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,
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Seamus could see that light in her eyes again, that spark that brought him right back to that moment in battle. There had been so much going on that he barely had time to think, reacting on pure instinct when he reached out for her, tugging her hand until she was close enough to wrap his arm around her waist and pulled her close.
Looking back, that had been his scariest moment, the two of them literally running for their lives as You-Know-Who pursued them. If Harry hadn't stepped in at the last minute then neither of them would be standing in that stock room, so very close together now, grinning at each other.
"I'm almost insulted that you'd doubt me."
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She could do this. Hannah could have this banter, she could feel this comfortable. This was Seamus Finnigan, the boy she'd known since she was eleven years old. Before all the bad stuff. The death, the War, the fear.
And he was still light and funny and charming.
She may have been a little broken, a little weary, but she couldn't help but feel the familiar tug she used to when she was younger.
"I've got to keep your wits about you," she said, tilting her head to the side. "I feel its my duty, you know, as your friend, to keep you on your toes-"
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Friends wasn't actually a word he would have used to describe his relationship with anyone of the female nature, except maybe Marlow and even that was muddled area, not because they weren't friends but because it seemed like far too casual a word for what their relationship had grown into over the years.
"I appreciate your concern then, you know- for my wits and all."
( ... )
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"Just doing what I can-" she shrugged, her eyes sharing a spark of a gleam behind them as she studied his perfectly symmetrical features.
"Can I get you a drink?" she asked then, suddenly not quite sure she wanted this little visit over.
It wasn't every day someone like Seamus walked into the Leaky, as it was.
"On the house, of course-"
( ... )
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She certainly wasn't his usual type but here he was and he definitely wasn't ready to leave any time soon.
"How about we sample the golden whiskey?" he offered, "You can see what all the type is about."
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"Going right for the good stuff," she said, allowing herself a small, teasing smile to tug at the corners of her mouth.
She moved from where she stood, briefly relieved to be out of his personal space as she moved toward the door way, leading Seamus out into the main bar.
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When did he become such a neat freak? Seamus certainly didn't care about such things when he was younger, always leaving his bed in the Gryffindor dorm undone, most of his more casual clothes wrinkled, and half the essays he turned in crumpled. Owning a business had changed him, mostly for the better he thought. After all, it was much easier to be messy when you had house elves or your mam picking up after you.
Everything was vaguely familiar, though Seamus had never spent a lot of time at The Leaky himself, despite how close it was to his store and flat. The time he had spent in here over the years was just quick meeting spots when his parents stayed during their visits, as far and few between as those happened to be.
"What's your drink of choice?"
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She thought it straddled a perfect line.
It was quieter in the bar, that odd time when the dinner hour was all but over and the late night regulars still had a few hours before they wandered in.
"Mine? Typically nothing," she said, glancing back at him from over her shoulder. "I don't really drink all that much-"
Or at all.
But she could stomach a pint of ale, or two.
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It wasn't even for the sake of getting drunk, though that was a nice side effect after a long day at the shop. The right alcohol was calming, a fine whiskey going down smooth with just a hint of a rich burn as it hit your stomach.
But it shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone that Seamus Finnigan, spirit shop owner, was passionate about top shelf alcohol.
"What do you do to unwind then?"
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She swung behind the bar, lifting the last remaining bottle of the golden firewhiskey from the shelf, twirling the bottle in her hands absentmindedly as she considered his question.
She pulled a fresh tumbler from underneath the counter.
"I have my greenhouse-" she said, then. "Right up here on the roof- if I get a break, I go up there-"
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"Greenhouse? So that's how you relax," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at her.
"I mean, I always figured Herbology would come in handy one way or another."
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She looked a little startled, almost confused at his comment before his insinuation became clear in her head. She covered her mouth with her hand, the slight catch of laughter in her throat passing through her fingers.
"You shouldn't assume anything, Seamus-" she said, keeping her voice low. "At least, not until you're out of earshot from the rest of the lot in here-"
She popped off the cap of the firewhiskey, pouring in the remaining few ounces and passing it off to Seamus.
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And just when he thought he was starting to figure her out-
"So that really is it," he laughed, leaning forward against the bar with his voice low.
"The Leaky Cauldron just became a lot more interesting. For more reasons than one-"
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Hannah leaned against the bar, her elbows resting against the recently polished wood, tilting her head at Seamus in exasperation.
"That is on a need to know basis," she said, a knowing look following. "We've got enough hanger-ons here without knowing about the rooftop-"
She laughed.
"Literally only a handful of people have been in on that little secret, you know-"
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"I'll keep my lips sealed, I promise," he assured her, pressing his finger to his mouth for a moment.
"Though, I didn't think you'd be the type-"
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