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Seamus was Irish, and proud of it. He never failed to remind others of his hot blooded and proud nature. Because at heart, everyone was a little Irish, and that was good. Sometimes you just need a reminder to bring it out.
And so when his fellow Gryffindors were acting a bit too English, he felt it was up to him to correct things.
English in his mind was stuck up, self defeating, and self denying. Not to mention all too willing to blather about ‘propriety’ and ‘feelings.’
No one was more English right now than bloody Harry Potter. And given how Seamus had wronged him, he decided he had to make things up to his sort-of-friend-more-acquaintance.
So he sat next to Harry in the Common Room, scooted his chair right up alongside him, looked the Chosen One right in the eye, and said this:
"Mate, are you a poofter or what?"
Harry's jaw dropped.
"Am I a-Wha?!"
"I'm just saying, mate," Seamus said, "that you've got an ideal girlfriend that you've been ignoring since she got hot and I'm concerned."
"Wha-What ideal girlfriend?" Harry demanded in a quiet hiss, "what? Are you talking about Ginny?"
Seamus laughed, hard and loud. Yeah, sure. Harry belonged with Ginny. That was a laugh.
"Ginny? Yeah, right. Sure. No, mate, I'm talking about Hermione," he said. "Come on mate. You have to have figured out she's mad about you?"
"She likes Ron, not me," Harry said, and he looked a bit depressed despite himself. Seamus smirked.
Bingo. The boy was all too easy to read.
"But if you made a move, you could lure her away," Seamus said, "get her where she belongs-Alongside you."
There was a flash of hope in Harry's eyes, smothered by a bit of English self sacrifice. Ugh.
"She doesn't belong with me!" Harry protested, "she should be with someone she chooses! It's-It's none of my business!"
Seamus leaned back, and snorted.
"All right then mate. How about I go ask her out?"
"I... That's fine," Harry grumbled, "knock yourself out."
Seamus smirked, and nodded.
"I'll snog her, you know. I'll snog the daylights out of her," Seamus intimated.
Harry's fingers began to dig into the arms of his chair.
"Good for you."
"I'll show her what a real man can do," Seamus continued, "not you two wankers who dither and whine about 'oh I can't betray me best mate for true love! Not like he'll get over it after a pint and a fight because that's what real men do!'"
"How are you a real man?!" Harry demanded. "I've fought a basilisk, Dementors, a dragon-!"
"A real man can figure out there's the potential for real love right in front of him," Seamus shot back. "And figuring out the best way to get that done!"
"Oh yeah? And how is that?" Harry asked angrily.
"Listen," Seamus said, "you go up to Hermione, yeah? You look her in the eyes. You kiss her. If she freaks out, then I'll buy you a new broom. If she kisses back, then you owe me firewhiskey."
Harry gaped in disbelief at him. But he was riled up enough he wasn’t gonna hold back.
"How am I supposed to-?"
"You're the juvenile delinquent, you'll figure it out," Seamus said encouragingly. He glanced up at the portrait hole, where the girl in question was stepping in.
"Come on, here she is. Go!"
"Why should I-?"
"Unless you're a pussy."
Harry narrowed his eyes. Seamus smirked back.
Gotcha! Seamus crowed in triumph.
He got up, and headed over to Hermione. She looked up at him curiously. He took a deep breath, and put his hands on her shoulders. He then pulled her into a kiss, and her eyes went wide.
The Common Room fell into silence. The kiss went on for a bit longer, before Harry pulled back. Hermione, bright red, turned and fled up to the girls' dorms in a flurry of bushy hair. Harry watched her go in disbelief, as Seamus walked up alongside him.
"Wha... But..." Harry tried. Seamus grinned. Harry glared.
"She freaked out!" He protested.
"Did she kiss you back?" Seamus asked.
Harry was silent, then, reluctantly:
"... Yes."
"HA! I win!"
Harry paused a moment before grinning back at Seamus with uncharacteristic mischief in his eyes.
"I'll get you your firewhiskey when you get me my broom. Fair's fair, right?"
"...what?" "
We both won the bet. So we both get the prize."
Seamus burst into laughter. The balls on the guy! But he did set the stakes.
"Alright, alright. Yeah, we both were right. But don't go expecting a new Firebolt."
Harry shakes his head as he turns away.
"I'm not, after all you never said what kind of broom."
Seamus blinked. Wait, he didn't say what kind of firewhiskey either. Shit.
“Buy me Ferrour’s firewhiskey for the wedding then!” Seamus called.
Harry flushed.
“You think there’ll be a wedding?! After that?”
“Talk to her. Sort it out,” Seamus pressed. “You sort it out and get things going to a wedding? You buy me the best firewhiskey in the world. I lose? I’ll buy you a bloody Firebolt to fly her away on and make her reconsider.”
“You’d win either way!” Harry realized. Seamus grinned.
“Now you’re thinking like an Irishman, Potter.”
Five years later, Seamus got Harry a Firebolt, and Harry got him that Firewhiskey. Seamus ended up making an ass of himself at Harry's wedding to Hermione, but they allowed it. After all, without him, they wouldn’t have had the wedding in the first place.
It was just the Irish Way, after all… At least that was his excuse.
But it hadn't failed yet...