Fic for wook77: Observance (Dean/Seamus)
Author/Artist: acromantular
Giftee: wook77
Title: Observance
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean/Seamus
Era/Time-Frame: Seventh year.
Rating: PG
Summary: There were always plenty of words to fill any space, even one as large as Dean left behind. He simply... disappeared.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Thanks to my unnamed beta, and to the eternally patient mods. This is for the wonderful wook77, who requested seventh-year Deamus with a bit of angst and lots of kissing.
- Part 1: Introspection -
It was cold in the woods, and there were goblins.
Of course, there were also salmon, so Dean considered it a wash.
He nibbled his fish slowly, listening to the others talk, adding his story as necessary, and picking bones from his teeth.
The food was certainly better than he or Mr. Tonks had managed to scrape up, but the goblins made him… edgy. They watched him, and his plate full of fish, entirely too closely with their dark eyes.
Dean tucked his feet in tighter under the log and curled his gangly frame over even farther, willing himself to near-invisibility. He cleared his mind, and tried to blend.
It worked; it always did.
Dean sighed in relief as even the little goblin’s eyes finally slid away. He cleaned his plate, then helped Mr. Tonks transfigure a fat little pine into a peaked, spreading tent.
--
Dean was a born observer.
He always managed to fade into the background, despite his height.
His brothers and sisters were loud, and competition was fierce (though good-natured) for his parents’ attention- it had always been easy for him to step aside, leaving the spotlight free for those who actually wanted it.
There were always plenty of words to fill any space, even one as large as Dean left behind. He simply… disappeared.
Sure, they found him well enough- it’s not as if he’d been using actual spells to hide- but his family was so busy that it wasn’t even necessary. He could lean back against the wall, watching the show, taking it all in.
--
His best friend was immune, of course- this is what initially drew them together.
He tried his standard set of tricks, but Seamus didn’t notice- in fact, it seemed to attract the Irish boy’s attention even more fiercely.
He dragged Dean off couches, away from walls, out of corners- all of the comfortable, dark places he liked to hide- and into the center of things, easing the way with a gentle hand and non-stop patter that Dean could barely follow, but still made him smile. The middle of the action was an unfamiliar place, but Seamus made it comfortable.
As long as the other boy was with him, Dean was willing to stay, but left to his own devices he would step back again, seeking the familiar comfort of distance.
--
That’s how he got away, the first time.
He hadn’t gone to Hogwarts- none of the Muggle-born did- but between Potterwatch and the DA coins he knew. He cast all the protection spells he could, but it was a matter of time.
He set trip-jinxes to mildly Confund his family, just enough to keep them safe, and when the Death Eaters came he just faded back and slipped away.
--
Dean didn’t like sharing a tent with goblins.
They were small, tidy creatures (they bathed regularly enough even in the forest) who rarely spoke to each other, much less to him.
But they watched, and their eyes grated on him even more than their silence.
The watcher: that was Dean’s role.
The sudden realization that he required the din of human activity only came when, for the first time in his life, found himself without it. Mr. Tonks and Mr. Cresswell talked a bit, but it was the nervous chatter of worried adults, and punctuated by long periods of silence.
He missed his family- his brothers, his sisters, his mum and dad. He missed the Gryffindor common room, and what would have been the seventh-years’ dormitory. He missed the warm comfort of late nights with friends, talking and telling bawdy jokes when they should have been revising.
Bloody hell, he missed Seamus.
--
None of his usual fidgets were handy- he’d barely had time to grab his wand before leaving the house, and transfigured parchment was hardly better than scratching figures in the dirt.
Dean fingered the DA Galleon, wishing for a signal, for something to do.. He turned it over and over, fidgeting absently as they waited for dinner (rabbit, this time) and caught the little goblin staring once more, gaze darting between Dean’s eyes and the Galleon.
He put the coin back in his pocket and faded out.
--
He’d always had the dreams, but silencing charms were standard courtesy in a boys’ dormitory, and he’d had his own curtained four-poster.
Now he shared a parade of vaguely tree-shaped tents with two grown men (who snored like buzzsaws the moment their heads hit the pillow), and the goblins who barely seemed to need sleep. It was, to say the least, uncomfortable.
A silencing charm would be noticed; it would be a bloody announcement to the rest of what he was up to. But god, he needed a wank.
He rolled over, bit down on his pillow, and curled up even more tightly.
--
He woke abruptly in the middle of the night, warm and sticky within his bedroll, eyes skipping about the tent frantically as he muttered a quick cleaning charm.
The other two were snoring away, but you could never tell with the goblins.
When everything remained still after several minutes he finally relaxed, sinking back to the tent floor with a gentle sigh.
He’d dreamed of Seamus again.
--
Every dream began with memories of Hogwarts, times when Seamus had pulled him into the mix, into the comfortable camaraderie only he could create.
There were so many memories- cheering at Quidditch games, feasts in the Great Hall, pelting the girls’ dormitory with charmed snowballs, laughing and dancing to the Weird Sisters at the Yule Ball, sprawling across either end of the big common room couch, their feet nestling together in the center as they read about the ancient Giant uprisings.
But then they began to diverge.
Their friends melted away, and it was just the two of them, alone and perfectly at ease. He would look up, or over, and meet Seamus’s clear gaze: dancing blue eyes above a generous sprinkling of freckles, and a mouth curled up into a wry grin.
His eyes fastened onto that mouth, and he leaned in, without hesitation. And every time Seamus met him half-way, head tilted just so, their lips connecting with an intensity born of years of close familiarity. His tongue knew exactly what to do, what to expect, as he explored the warm recesses of Seamus’s willing mouth.
Hands grasped, cupped, and stroked as they pressed together, but there was no urgency- this was normal, this was right, and they would be like this forever.
But it wasn’t, and it couldn’t.
Every time he woke up alone, huddling in quiet shame in the tent, he remembered again that he was alone, cut off from his friends, from his best mate. That even if he were with them at Hogwarts, it wouldn’t be like that.
--
He couldn’t do anything and his DA Galleon had been silent for weeks. He found himself hoping for excitement, for noise, for an excuse to step forward and act.
But when the Death Eaters found them he wasn’t ready.
They were eating roasted squirrels for dinner, the first proper food in days, and hadn’t bothered to set a proper spell perimeter.
The first curse caught Ted Tonks full in the back, the green light sending his body toppling over towards the fire, pinning Dirk Cresswell’s legs against the ground. The other man cursed, fumbling for his wand as Dean and the goblins scattered.
By the time he’d hot his wand out, Mr. Cresswell was in a Full Body-Bind and the big goblin was writhing under the pain of Cruciatus.
It was all he could do to grab Griphook and Disapparate.
--
The little goblin thanked him once, then proceeded to ignore Dean entirely, which was no more than he deserved.
He managed to set basic perimeter spells, and transfigured the bottom branches of an old oak into a rather lumpy tent before collapsing into a heap.
When the time came he couldn’t do it, couldn’t perform.
He wasn’t ready, and so had stepped back, watching, then fled the scene.
He thought of Seamus, who always managed to do something, however foolhardy, and his eyes prickled with tears of shame and frustration.
--
The Snatchers came while Dean was asleep.
There was nothing he could do- they disarmed him before he was even awake, and dragged him off with Griphook as they continued hunting.
Seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione was even worse- there was nothing Dean could do, bound, beaten, and wandless.
When Luna freed his hands, it was almost worse- despite his apparent freedom, he was still powerless to help as Hermione’s screams echoed through the floor.
When Harry sent him away with Luna and Mr. Ollivander it was almost a relief.
He wanted to help, but had no wand, and barely trusted himself to carry Mr. Ollivander safely up to the cottage.
--
Harry’s elf died, helping them escape.
Dean helped dig the grave, then put a woolen hat on Dobby’s head.
The elf had been bravest of them all, jumping in to save them all without hesitation, and Dean could barely choke out a single word of thanks.
The rest of them were equally lost, only Luna able to string more than a handful of words together, but he still felt isolated, impotent.
--
He spent much of his time at Shell Cottage with Luna, who never questioned him, never judged, and was content to fill his space with her words.
She was like Seamus, in that way, but was content to let him float along beside where Seamus would have reeled him in, requiring him to be totally present. Luna seemed happy enough to have a friend’s ear, and made no further demands.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione ignored everyone but the little goblin, hiding and whispering with Griphook for hours on end. They were clearly planning something, and he and Luna weren’t included.
Then Luna got her new wand, and despite her cheerful offer to share, he knew himself to be totally alone.
- Part 2: Action -
They’d barely started to puzzle over what Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Griphook’s disappearance might mean when the summons came.
Luna squealed, grabbed her wand, and went to tell Bill and Fleur; Dean just sat, stunned.
This was it. Time to join the rest of the DA; and help Harry fight the Dark Lord. Time to face his fears, and figure out exactly what he was made of.
He was just scared of what he would find.
Dean sighed, patting his empty wand pocket, and followed Luna downstairs.
--
He kept up a cheerful front, buoyed by Luna’s excited chatter as they walked the passage from the Hog’s Head. She told him all about the Room of Requirement, what the DA had done during the previous term, and he was almost convinced by the time they reached the door.
He managed a hearty greeting, spotting Harry, Ron, and Hermione at once among the throng, but was knocked off his feet by a low, roaring blur.
Seamus slammed him up against the wall, arms wrapped tight around Dean’s lean frame, hugging him fiercely.
Dean squeezed back, staring back into those blue eyes, and it was all he could do to keep from leaning forward, just like in his dreams. He wrenched his eyes away, leaning back to take in the rest of Seamus’s ravaged face.
“What have they done to you, mate?” he asked, horrified. “You look like hell.”
“Earned every bit of it from the Carrows,” Seamus answered with a grin. “My best mate wasn’t around to keep me out of trouble.”
Dean swallowed, stricken. “I missed you,” he said hoarsely.
“Me too, mate.”
Seamus finally stepped back, hooked Dean’s elbow, and steered them to a nearby hammock. They sat on the edge, the hammock swaying gently, and Seamus tucked his arm protectively around Dean’s waist.
For the first time in months, Dean felt solid- secure and grounded. He leaned against his friend, stayed present, and watched.
--
Harry argued, even as more people stepped through the tunnel door.
“What did you call them all back for?” Harry practically yelled at Neville. “This is insane!”
This had gone too far, and Dean had listened to quite enough of Harry’s moody speeches. He kept one hand on Seamus’s leg for support, gathered his courage, and spoke out.
“We’re fighting, aren’t we?” Dean waved his fake Galleon. “The message said Harry was back, and we were going to fight!”
He paused. “I’ll have to get a wand, though- “
“You haven’t got a wand- ?” Seamus turned to him, brows furrowed, ignoring the near-riot in the rest of the room.
Dean forced a wan grin.
“Course I do- eight inches of hard ebony, mate,” he said, patting his trousers. “The Snatchers didn’t get that one.”
Seamus elbowed him, smirking, and they fell silent with the rest of the room as Harry explained the plan.
--
The battle, when it finally came, was beyond anything he could have prepared for.
Dean got himself a wand almost immediately, looming out from the shadows to punch a Death Eater in the center of his masked face, grabbing his wand and adding a Full Body-Bind before the man could recover.
He ran up the hallway after Seamus and Parvati, shaking his still-smarting knuckles, just in time to help them Stun an enormous spider and kick it out of a hole in the castle wall.
“Good show, mate!” Seamus crowed, giving him a solid slap on the arse. “C’mon- there’s more fighting up ahead.”
Seamus slipped his fingers into Dean’s larger hand, and bolted down the hall fast enough that Dean had to stretch to keep up.
Somehow his knuckles didn’t hurt anymore.
--
They were eventually separated in the heat of battle.
Dean found himself dueling a tall, dark-haired Death Eater with a long, angry face. He cast curse after jinx after hex, catching occasional glimpses of Parvati as he dodged jets of red or zigzags of purple light.
He snapped off a quick Stunner at Parvati’s distracted opponent, and spun to see she’d immobilized his in a Body Bind.
He gave her a quick hug. “Where’s Seamus?” he asked urgently.
“He was with Padma,” she gasped.
They took off at a run.
--
They finally found Padma crouched over a semi-conscious Lavender, and Parvati stayed to help her injured friend.
Dean scrabbled to his feet, slipping on emeralds, marble, and broken glass as he dashed for the door.
He shot a Stunner at an upturned giant spider as it tried to right itself, then he was through the door and outside.
The courtyard was ablaze with light: jets of red, green, purple, and a bilious yellow shot through the night. He sidled around against the walls, looking for an opening, a way to help without hitting one of his own, when he saw Seamus.
The boy was dancing back and forth around an angry giant, Luna and Ernie on the other side, all shooting Stunners at its exposed legs. Seamus dodged the giant’s enormous booted foot, and shot off another Stunner just as the giant made a frustrated sweep at Luna with his club.
His other hand caught Seamus in the side, lifting him up and flinging him against the courtyard’s low stone walls.
“Seamus!” Dean yelled, rushing to his friend’s side.
He hauled Seamus up by the shoulders, cradling the other boy’s head in his lap as a high, cold voice rang through Hogwarts. He barely noticed when the giant retreated and their friends left to tend the wounded, because Seamus opened his eyes.
“Dean,” he whispered, staring upwards, mouth quirking into a grin.
Dean’s breath hitched at the familiarity, and he leaned forward, mesmerized, homing in on that smile.
Seamus leaned forward just a little bit, but it was enough.
Their lips met, followed by a clatter of teeth and a confusion of noses. Seamus laughed and Dean froze, suddenly realizing what he’d done, but strong arms reached up, pulling him back into the kiss.
This time Dean angled his head, nose safely clear, and let himself disappear into Seamus’s mouth. He tasted blood and sweat, but Seamus had both hands fisted in the back of Dean’s hair, so he stayed, meeting the implied challenge with his tongue and both hands.
“Pardon me,” Luna’s voice was gentle, “But you’d best come back to the Great Hall. Everyone’s gathering to help the wounded.”
She slipped away, and Dean sat up, chest heaving.
“Bloody hell,” he murmured, staring at Seamus.
“About damned time,” Seamus growled, sitting up gingerly. “Fine time to let me know what you’re thinking, when I’m half-stomped by giants?”
“I was…” Dean stopped short. All of the phrases in his head seemed inadequate.
You complete me. You make me feel real. My life is meaningless when you’re not there.
You don’t say that to your best mate, so he just stared at Seamus, who finally stood and helped haul Dean to his feet.
“Mind you, I was a piss-poor excuse for a Gryffindor myself,” Seamus chuckled. “I’ve been wanking to you since the middle of fourth year. Why did you think I ditched the birds to dance with you at the Yule Ball?”
“Since you’re here now, I don’t much care,” Dean said, leaning in and kissing him firmly on the lips, his hands dropping to Seamus’s waist.
He pulled back slightly, resting against Seamus lightly at forehead and hip.
“We’ll take this up later,” he said firmly, “I promise. But first we’ve got to help Harry.”
Seamus flashed a smile, and grabbed his hand. “I’m holding you to it, mate.”
--
The final battle was anti-climactic after the pain of Harry’s supposed death. The brief flurry of fighting, flight, and Harry’s miraculous return and triumph- it all vanished into a blurry haze.
All Dean knew was that when it was over, Seamus found him and the world was right again.
They left the Great Hall, with its strange mix of corpses and celebration, and walked out through the ruined courtyards with hands entwined.
“You reckon we should make a go of it?” Seamus asked, trying to sound casual. “Wouldn’t want to lose my best friend, not for anything.”
Dean rounded on him, pushing Seamus up against the wall, hands on his shoulders.
“You won’t,” he said huskily. “I’m not leaving you again.”
He leaned down and kissed Seamus again, his tongue testing and probing, reveling in the newly familiar taste. He slid his hands down the sides of Seamus’s body, tentative strokes becoming firmer and more confident as he felt the other boy respond.
Seamus moaned under him, arching forward, and Dean shifted his head lower, licking and nibbling light jawline stubble on his way to the tender skin of Seamus’s throat before he was gently pushed away.
“Let’s go back inside,” Seamus said, grinning wickedly. “I want to check out your wand.”
“Which one?” Dean answered, matching him with a smirk. “I’ve got two.”
“There’s only one I want to see right now,” Seamus said, sliding his arm around Dean and giving his arse a squeeze. “It’s about eight inches, Leprechaun hair core, hardest mahogany.”
Seamus paused, and looked up into Dean’s face with his clear, guileless eyes, as his grin widened even further.
“I hear it’s magic”
Giftee: wook77
Title: Observance
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean/Seamus
Era/Time-Frame: Seventh year.
Rating: PG
Summary: There were always plenty of words to fill any space, even one as large as Dean left behind. He simply... disappeared.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Thanks to my unnamed beta, and to the eternally patient mods. This is for the wonderful wook77, who requested seventh-year Deamus with a bit of angst and lots of kissing.
- Part 1: Introspection -
It was cold in the woods, and there were goblins.
Of course, there were also salmon, so Dean considered it a wash.
He nibbled his fish slowly, listening to the others talk, adding his story as necessary, and picking bones from his teeth.
The food was certainly better than he or Mr. Tonks had managed to scrape up, but the goblins made him… edgy. They watched him, and his plate full of fish, entirely too closely with their dark eyes.
Dean tucked his feet in tighter under the log and curled his gangly frame over even farther, willing himself to near-invisibility. He cleared his mind, and tried to blend.
It worked; it always did.
Dean sighed in relief as even the little goblin’s eyes finally slid away. He cleaned his plate, then helped Mr. Tonks transfigure a fat little pine into a peaked, spreading tent.
--
Dean was a born observer.
He always managed to fade into the background, despite his height.
His brothers and sisters were loud, and competition was fierce (though good-natured) for his parents’ attention- it had always been easy for him to step aside, leaving the spotlight free for those who actually wanted it.
There were always plenty of words to fill any space, even one as large as Dean left behind. He simply… disappeared.
Sure, they found him well enough- it’s not as if he’d been using actual spells to hide- but his family was so busy that it wasn’t even necessary. He could lean back against the wall, watching the show, taking it all in.
--
His best friend was immune, of course- this is what initially drew them together.
He tried his standard set of tricks, but Seamus didn’t notice- in fact, it seemed to attract the Irish boy’s attention even more fiercely.
He dragged Dean off couches, away from walls, out of corners- all of the comfortable, dark places he liked to hide- and into the center of things, easing the way with a gentle hand and non-stop patter that Dean could barely follow, but still made him smile. The middle of the action was an unfamiliar place, but Seamus made it comfortable.
As long as the other boy was with him, Dean was willing to stay, but left to his own devices he would step back again, seeking the familiar comfort of distance.
--
That’s how he got away, the first time.
He hadn’t gone to Hogwarts- none of the Muggle-born did- but between Potterwatch and the DA coins he knew. He cast all the protection spells he could, but it was a matter of time.
He set trip-jinxes to mildly Confund his family, just enough to keep them safe, and when the Death Eaters came he just faded back and slipped away.
--
Dean didn’t like sharing a tent with goblins.
They were small, tidy creatures (they bathed regularly enough even in the forest) who rarely spoke to each other, much less to him.
But they watched, and their eyes grated on him even more than their silence.
The watcher: that was Dean’s role.
The sudden realization that he required the din of human activity only came when, for the first time in his life, found himself without it. Mr. Tonks and Mr. Cresswell talked a bit, but it was the nervous chatter of worried adults, and punctuated by long periods of silence.
He missed his family- his brothers, his sisters, his mum and dad. He missed the Gryffindor common room, and what would have been the seventh-years’ dormitory. He missed the warm comfort of late nights with friends, talking and telling bawdy jokes when they should have been revising.
Bloody hell, he missed Seamus.
--
None of his usual fidgets were handy- he’d barely had time to grab his wand before leaving the house, and transfigured parchment was hardly better than scratching figures in the dirt.
Dean fingered the DA Galleon, wishing for a signal, for something to do.. He turned it over and over, fidgeting absently as they waited for dinner (rabbit, this time) and caught the little goblin staring once more, gaze darting between Dean’s eyes and the Galleon.
He put the coin back in his pocket and faded out.
--
He’d always had the dreams, but silencing charms were standard courtesy in a boys’ dormitory, and he’d had his own curtained four-poster.
Now he shared a parade of vaguely tree-shaped tents with two grown men (who snored like buzzsaws the moment their heads hit the pillow), and the goblins who barely seemed to need sleep. It was, to say the least, uncomfortable.
A silencing charm would be noticed; it would be a bloody announcement to the rest of what he was up to. But god, he needed a wank.
He rolled over, bit down on his pillow, and curled up even more tightly.
--
He woke abruptly in the middle of the night, warm and sticky within his bedroll, eyes skipping about the tent frantically as he muttered a quick cleaning charm.
The other two were snoring away, but you could never tell with the goblins.
When everything remained still after several minutes he finally relaxed, sinking back to the tent floor with a gentle sigh.
He’d dreamed of Seamus again.
--
Every dream began with memories of Hogwarts, times when Seamus had pulled him into the mix, into the comfortable camaraderie only he could create.
There were so many memories- cheering at Quidditch games, feasts in the Great Hall, pelting the girls’ dormitory with charmed snowballs, laughing and dancing to the Weird Sisters at the Yule Ball, sprawling across either end of the big common room couch, their feet nestling together in the center as they read about the ancient Giant uprisings.
But then they began to diverge.
Their friends melted away, and it was just the two of them, alone and perfectly at ease. He would look up, or over, and meet Seamus’s clear gaze: dancing blue eyes above a generous sprinkling of freckles, and a mouth curled up into a wry grin.
His eyes fastened onto that mouth, and he leaned in, without hesitation. And every time Seamus met him half-way, head tilted just so, their lips connecting with an intensity born of years of close familiarity. His tongue knew exactly what to do, what to expect, as he explored the warm recesses of Seamus’s willing mouth.
Hands grasped, cupped, and stroked as they pressed together, but there was no urgency- this was normal, this was right, and they would be like this forever.
But it wasn’t, and it couldn’t.
Every time he woke up alone, huddling in quiet shame in the tent, he remembered again that he was alone, cut off from his friends, from his best mate. That even if he were with them at Hogwarts, it wouldn’t be like that.
--
He couldn’t do anything and his DA Galleon had been silent for weeks. He found himself hoping for excitement, for noise, for an excuse to step forward and act.
But when the Death Eaters found them he wasn’t ready.
They were eating roasted squirrels for dinner, the first proper food in days, and hadn’t bothered to set a proper spell perimeter.
The first curse caught Ted Tonks full in the back, the green light sending his body toppling over towards the fire, pinning Dirk Cresswell’s legs against the ground. The other man cursed, fumbling for his wand as Dean and the goblins scattered.
By the time he’d hot his wand out, Mr. Cresswell was in a Full Body-Bind and the big goblin was writhing under the pain of Cruciatus.
It was all he could do to grab Griphook and Disapparate.
--
The little goblin thanked him once, then proceeded to ignore Dean entirely, which was no more than he deserved.
He managed to set basic perimeter spells, and transfigured the bottom branches of an old oak into a rather lumpy tent before collapsing into a heap.
When the time came he couldn’t do it, couldn’t perform.
He wasn’t ready, and so had stepped back, watching, then fled the scene.
He thought of Seamus, who always managed to do something, however foolhardy, and his eyes prickled with tears of shame and frustration.
--
The Snatchers came while Dean was asleep.
There was nothing he could do- they disarmed him before he was even awake, and dragged him off with Griphook as they continued hunting.
Seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione was even worse- there was nothing Dean could do, bound, beaten, and wandless.
When Luna freed his hands, it was almost worse- despite his apparent freedom, he was still powerless to help as Hermione’s screams echoed through the floor.
When Harry sent him away with Luna and Mr. Ollivander it was almost a relief.
He wanted to help, but had no wand, and barely trusted himself to carry Mr. Ollivander safely up to the cottage.
--
Harry’s elf died, helping them escape.
Dean helped dig the grave, then put a woolen hat on Dobby’s head.
The elf had been bravest of them all, jumping in to save them all without hesitation, and Dean could barely choke out a single word of thanks.
The rest of them were equally lost, only Luna able to string more than a handful of words together, but he still felt isolated, impotent.
--
He spent much of his time at Shell Cottage with Luna, who never questioned him, never judged, and was content to fill his space with her words.
She was like Seamus, in that way, but was content to let him float along beside where Seamus would have reeled him in, requiring him to be totally present. Luna seemed happy enough to have a friend’s ear, and made no further demands.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione ignored everyone but the little goblin, hiding and whispering with Griphook for hours on end. They were clearly planning something, and he and Luna weren’t included.
Then Luna got her new wand, and despite her cheerful offer to share, he knew himself to be totally alone.
- Part 2: Action -
They’d barely started to puzzle over what Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Griphook’s disappearance might mean when the summons came.
Luna squealed, grabbed her wand, and went to tell Bill and Fleur; Dean just sat, stunned.
This was it. Time to join the rest of the DA; and help Harry fight the Dark Lord. Time to face his fears, and figure out exactly what he was made of.
He was just scared of what he would find.
Dean sighed, patting his empty wand pocket, and followed Luna downstairs.
--
He kept up a cheerful front, buoyed by Luna’s excited chatter as they walked the passage from the Hog’s Head. She told him all about the Room of Requirement, what the DA had done during the previous term, and he was almost convinced by the time they reached the door.
He managed a hearty greeting, spotting Harry, Ron, and Hermione at once among the throng, but was knocked off his feet by a low, roaring blur.
Seamus slammed him up against the wall, arms wrapped tight around Dean’s lean frame, hugging him fiercely.
Dean squeezed back, staring back into those blue eyes, and it was all he could do to keep from leaning forward, just like in his dreams. He wrenched his eyes away, leaning back to take in the rest of Seamus’s ravaged face.
“What have they done to you, mate?” he asked, horrified. “You look like hell.”
“Earned every bit of it from the Carrows,” Seamus answered with a grin. “My best mate wasn’t around to keep me out of trouble.”
Dean swallowed, stricken. “I missed you,” he said hoarsely.
“Me too, mate.”
Seamus finally stepped back, hooked Dean’s elbow, and steered them to a nearby hammock. They sat on the edge, the hammock swaying gently, and Seamus tucked his arm protectively around Dean’s waist.
For the first time in months, Dean felt solid- secure and grounded. He leaned against his friend, stayed present, and watched.
--
Harry argued, even as more people stepped through the tunnel door.
“What did you call them all back for?” Harry practically yelled at Neville. “This is insane!”
This had gone too far, and Dean had listened to quite enough of Harry’s moody speeches. He kept one hand on Seamus’s leg for support, gathered his courage, and spoke out.
“We’re fighting, aren’t we?” Dean waved his fake Galleon. “The message said Harry was back, and we were going to fight!”
He paused. “I’ll have to get a wand, though- “
“You haven’t got a wand- ?” Seamus turned to him, brows furrowed, ignoring the near-riot in the rest of the room.
Dean forced a wan grin.
“Course I do- eight inches of hard ebony, mate,” he said, patting his trousers. “The Snatchers didn’t get that one.”
Seamus elbowed him, smirking, and they fell silent with the rest of the room as Harry explained the plan.
--
The battle, when it finally came, was beyond anything he could have prepared for.
Dean got himself a wand almost immediately, looming out from the shadows to punch a Death Eater in the center of his masked face, grabbing his wand and adding a Full Body-Bind before the man could recover.
He ran up the hallway after Seamus and Parvati, shaking his still-smarting knuckles, just in time to help them Stun an enormous spider and kick it out of a hole in the castle wall.
“Good show, mate!” Seamus crowed, giving him a solid slap on the arse. “C’mon- there’s more fighting up ahead.”
Seamus slipped his fingers into Dean’s larger hand, and bolted down the hall fast enough that Dean had to stretch to keep up.
Somehow his knuckles didn’t hurt anymore.
--
They were eventually separated in the heat of battle.
Dean found himself dueling a tall, dark-haired Death Eater with a long, angry face. He cast curse after jinx after hex, catching occasional glimpses of Parvati as he dodged jets of red or zigzags of purple light.
He snapped off a quick Stunner at Parvati’s distracted opponent, and spun to see she’d immobilized his in a Body Bind.
He gave her a quick hug. “Where’s Seamus?” he asked urgently.
“He was with Padma,” she gasped.
They took off at a run.
--
They finally found Padma crouched over a semi-conscious Lavender, and Parvati stayed to help her injured friend.
Dean scrabbled to his feet, slipping on emeralds, marble, and broken glass as he dashed for the door.
He shot a Stunner at an upturned giant spider as it tried to right itself, then he was through the door and outside.
The courtyard was ablaze with light: jets of red, green, purple, and a bilious yellow shot through the night. He sidled around against the walls, looking for an opening, a way to help without hitting one of his own, when he saw Seamus.
The boy was dancing back and forth around an angry giant, Luna and Ernie on the other side, all shooting Stunners at its exposed legs. Seamus dodged the giant’s enormous booted foot, and shot off another Stunner just as the giant made a frustrated sweep at Luna with his club.
His other hand caught Seamus in the side, lifting him up and flinging him against the courtyard’s low stone walls.
“Seamus!” Dean yelled, rushing to his friend’s side.
He hauled Seamus up by the shoulders, cradling the other boy’s head in his lap as a high, cold voice rang through Hogwarts. He barely noticed when the giant retreated and their friends left to tend the wounded, because Seamus opened his eyes.
“Dean,” he whispered, staring upwards, mouth quirking into a grin.
Dean’s breath hitched at the familiarity, and he leaned forward, mesmerized, homing in on that smile.
Seamus leaned forward just a little bit, but it was enough.
Their lips met, followed by a clatter of teeth and a confusion of noses. Seamus laughed and Dean froze, suddenly realizing what he’d done, but strong arms reached up, pulling him back into the kiss.
This time Dean angled his head, nose safely clear, and let himself disappear into Seamus’s mouth. He tasted blood and sweat, but Seamus had both hands fisted in the back of Dean’s hair, so he stayed, meeting the implied challenge with his tongue and both hands.
“Pardon me,” Luna’s voice was gentle, “But you’d best come back to the Great Hall. Everyone’s gathering to help the wounded.”
She slipped away, and Dean sat up, chest heaving.
“Bloody hell,” he murmured, staring at Seamus.
“About damned time,” Seamus growled, sitting up gingerly. “Fine time to let me know what you’re thinking, when I’m half-stomped by giants?”
“I was…” Dean stopped short. All of the phrases in his head seemed inadequate.
You complete me. You make me feel real. My life is meaningless when you’re not there.
You don’t say that to your best mate, so he just stared at Seamus, who finally stood and helped haul Dean to his feet.
“Mind you, I was a piss-poor excuse for a Gryffindor myself,” Seamus chuckled. “I’ve been wanking to you since the middle of fourth year. Why did you think I ditched the birds to dance with you at the Yule Ball?”
“Since you’re here now, I don’t much care,” Dean said, leaning in and kissing him firmly on the lips, his hands dropping to Seamus’s waist.
He pulled back slightly, resting against Seamus lightly at forehead and hip.
“We’ll take this up later,” he said firmly, “I promise. But first we’ve got to help Harry.”
Seamus flashed a smile, and grabbed his hand. “I’m holding you to it, mate.”
--
The final battle was anti-climactic after the pain of Harry’s supposed death. The brief flurry of fighting, flight, and Harry’s miraculous return and triumph- it all vanished into a blurry haze.
All Dean knew was that when it was over, Seamus found him and the world was right again.
They left the Great Hall, with its strange mix of corpses and celebration, and walked out through the ruined courtyards with hands entwined.
“You reckon we should make a go of it?” Seamus asked, trying to sound casual. “Wouldn’t want to lose my best friend, not for anything.”
Dean rounded on him, pushing Seamus up against the wall, hands on his shoulders.
“You won’t,” he said huskily. “I’m not leaving you again.”
He leaned down and kissed Seamus again, his tongue testing and probing, reveling in the newly familiar taste. He slid his hands down the sides of Seamus’s body, tentative strokes becoming firmer and more confident as he felt the other boy respond.
Seamus moaned under him, arching forward, and Dean shifted his head lower, licking and nibbling light jawline stubble on his way to the tender skin of Seamus’s throat before he was gently pushed away.
“Let’s go back inside,” Seamus said, grinning wickedly. “I want to check out your wand.”
“Which one?” Dean answered, matching him with a smirk. “I’ve got two.”
“There’s only one I want to see right now,” Seamus said, sliding his arm around Dean and giving his arse a squeeze. “It’s about eight inches, Leprechaun hair core, hardest mahogany.”
Seamus paused, and looked up into Dean’s face with his clear, guileless eyes, as his grin widened even further.
“I hear it’s magic”