Fic: Memories as a Teacup Chapter 5 (Dean/Seamus WIP)
Title: Memories as a Teacup: Chapter 5
Author: wook77
Pairing:: Dean/Seamus (other slash and het pairings contained within)
Rating: PG (Eventual rating: Hard R to NC-17)
100quills prompt: 35. Mask
Warnings: Canon compliant through DH. Pre-Epilogue. Additional Warnings at the beginning of Chapter 1.
Wordcount: Overall: ~70k This part: 4000
Summary: Four years ago, Dean Thomas died in the midst of a raid. Seamus saw it happen right in front of his eyes but seeing isn't believing and reality is in the eye of the beholder.
A/N: Many many thanks to nefernat for the beta job. All remaining mistakes are my own.
All Chapters
"All right, yeah." Dean still looked flummoxed from the tea and Seamus put the tickets back down.
"Keep messing things up, don't I?"
"No," Dean protested. "I wasn't expecting it, is all. Mum can't get it right, you know. Always adds too much sugar and not enough cream."
"Yeah, all right," Seamus unwittingly echoed Dean's earlier sentiment and Dean started to laugh. Seamus shook his head at the oddness of the moment. It was only a cup of tea, after all. He hadn't even realised what he was doing until Dean had reacted. They'd done it for years and he might be out of practise but he still knew what Dean liked in his tea.
"Match isn't until this afternoon and wasn't planning on going but since you're here, I think you'll like it."
"Why weren't you planning on going?"
"Don't much care about either of the teams. Don't mind when it's the Kestrels or even the Cannons but it's the Bats versus the Catapults and, honestly, both teams are shite." At Dean's blank expression, Seamus continued to explain, "Quidditch, mate. It's a Wizarding game and, well, you'll see."
They spent the time until the game going to the market and picking up some food to stuff Seamus's pantry. They argued over vegetables and fruits, crackers and biscuits. Their food tastes were just as disparate as they'd been before and the familiar routine of arguing over food was comfortable. Seamus pretended that the past four years hadn't happened. By the time they had the items from the market sorted and put away, it was time to head out to the game.
"Where's this game at?" Dean asked as they gathered up a few items to take along.
"Near Cornwall," Seamus answered off-handedly.
"Cornwall?"
"Aye." Seamus was confused about why Dean would be asking about the location or sound so disbelieving about it. Then the light dawned and he realised that Dean didn't know that they could Apparate the distance quickly or utilise a Floo connection. "Remember Apparating? That's how we'll be going."
"Oh, right." Dean didn't sound like he believed Seamus.
"Just grab a hold like before and we'll get going." Dean's arms came around him and Seamus held on to Dean's waist, not quite resisting the urge to press his face against Dean's chest. In a blink of an eye, they were at the Quidditch stadium in Bodmin Moor. "Come on, let's find our seats, maybe get something to eat."
Seamus tugged Dean through the crowd, holding on to his arm. Dean kept stopping and staring. Finally, Seamus gave up on getting them through the crowd; instead, he let Dean set the pace. There were so many different clothes and accents. Combining the sheer variety of people with the puffs of coloured smoke or the eruption of cheers and magic and Seamus could see why Dean was gaping. Seamus had forgotten how crazy and chaotic a Quidditch match could appear to someone. He'd completely forgotten the first time his mam had taken him to see the Kestrels. His expression had surely mirrored the one that Dean was currently wearing.
"Pretty crazy, isn't it?" Seamus nudged Dean's hip with his own.
"There's just so much, isn't there? So much magic and stuff. Did you see that?" A child walked past with a catapult that hurled small bits of candy at passers-by. Smoke bats swooped through the air and Dean ducked as one got too close to him. Seamus reached up a hand and swiped it through the black smoke, causing it to dissipate into the air.
"Wait until you see the action," Seamus said with a grin and then pulled Dean to the ticket taker, handing over the tickets and then they walked up to the box. It was a Ministry box so it was filled with people from work. He didn't recognise anyone there, though, and relief swept through him. Dean might not be ready to meet more people that he didn't remember. The announcer's voice echoed through the stadium and the players came flying out on their brooms.
"Holy shit," Dean gasped. "They're on brooms. Brooms!"
"Aye, Nimbus 4000s, to be exact. They're the newest broom on the market and they sure make the game faster. That guy there, he's a Beater. His job's to keep the Bludgers from hitting anyone on his team." Seamus pointed to the man that flew close to the box before sweeping back into the centre of the stadium. "That one? He's a Chaser. He's to put the Quaffle in the hoops you see at the end. There's a bloke called a Keeper that tries to keep that from happening."
The players flew to the centre of the pitch and landed on the ground. "They're about to toss the balls into the air."
"Blimey, this is crazy!" Dean exclaimed as the players took to the air after the balls. "How the hell do they do that?"
"I'll have to get you up on a broom. You used to love it, was on the Gryffindor House team, actually. You were good at it; beat me out to be on the team, actually." Dean's wide-eyed gaze swung over to Seamus and he laughed. "Christ but I was pissed, too. Pouted for weeks until you beat the shit out of me and we were back to friends."
"I did… I did this?" Dean looked gobsmacked.
"Aye. Watch now, Farrelly's going to go after the Snitch, it's the little gold thing flying about. He's a Seeker and not a good one, to be honest."
The game continued but Seamus stopped watching it. He'd seen it plenty of times before. What he hadn't seen in years was the gobsmacked expression on Dean's face. It was like they were eleven again. Just like back then, Seamus pointed out plays and fouls and Dean absorbed it all.
"Send him off, ref! Red card!" Dean burst out and Seamus, stuck in the past, suddenly couldn't breath. "Dammit, did you see that? They didn't even call it, are they sodding well… Seamus? You all right?"
"You, you sa - " Seamus stumbled over what to say to explain the wrench and ache. "I need a minute. Be back."
He hurried out of the box and once outside, leaned against the wall, trying to get control of the swirl of emotion. It was just like the first time they'd watched Quidditch together. Just the exact same, right down to Dean's exclamation. Seamus's hands shook as he pressed his back against the wall. He clenched his fists until they stopped their shaking and he felt a bit steadier. When he opened his eyes, he barely bit back the startled yell. Dean was standing directly in front of him.
"You all right?" Dean asked. "Cause if I said something wrong back there, or whatever, I'm sorry."
"No, it's just, when you saw your first match when we were kids, you said the same thing and it sort of got to me. It's nothing." Seamus shrugged off the emotions. "Come on, we're missing some good goals."
Seamus and Dean walked back into the box. As the game wore on, one then two then three hours passing, Dean continued to watch the action and yelled at the referees and players. He picked up the terminology quickly and, soon, Seamus went back to watching Dean instead of the game. It was almost surreal to see the excitement and hear the exuberant utterances after so many years of doing without. He ignored the impending appointment and the strain that it might put between them already.
He wondered how he was able to deal with Dean being right there and not immediately tackle him, cling like a wanton geebag until Dean protested the treatment. It was almost as if he was in a state of denial and fear, like this whole thing was merely a dream that was going to disappear if he enjoyed it too much. Just in case this was true, he absorbed and catalogued every gesture and expression. He memorised the way that Dean leapt from his seat to scream or exchange high fives with the man next to him depending on what was occurring on the pitch.
When the game finally ended, seven hours later, Seamus was exhausted. They walked towards the Apparition zone and Dean was talking like a man possessed, arms flailing as he re-enacted certain manoeuvres, including the way that Donaldson captured the Snitch to put the Catapults up at the end of the game.
When they got back to the flat, Dean was still talking, fingers occasionally brushing Seamus's face or shoulder.
"Mate, this was the best, thanks. I can't believe that this sort of thing exists! This was just as good as footie, gotta tell you."
"Welcome," Seamus responded with a grin. "I get free tickets all the time so we can go to another game, if you'd want."
"Want? God, do I ever. This was bloody fantastic!" Dean flopped onto the sofa, arms outstretched and laid his head back against the cushions, closing his eyes. "I'm knackered, though, absolutely knackered."
"Yeah, me too." Now was the time to tell Dean about the appointment with Parvati. He lost his courage, though, in the face of the bliss and happiness of the day. "See you in the morning."
"Sure, yeah. We can actually have breakfast now that you finally have some food in this place. I'll cook, if you want."
"Sounds good. Night." Seamus crawled into bed, clinging to the spare pillow. When he fell asleep, he had a smile on his face. This had been the best day he'd had in four years.
~~**~~
When morning came, it dawned dark and dismal. If he believed in omens, Seamus would take it for a bad sign of what was to come. It's a good thing, then, that he doesn't believe in them, hasn't since playing around with his homework back at Hogwarts and getting shining marks to reward the faking. For the first time since he moved into the flat, he worried about going outside his bedroom. The reason for it was simple, he hadn't told Dean about the appointment. Worse, he'd omitted the information on purpose.
They'd had a brilliant time at the Quidditch match yesterday. The look on Dean's face had made sitting through the game worth it. The few people sharing the box hadn't gone to Hogwarts with him, so they didn't know Dean. They'd been able to be casual and friendly while Dean's face showed the wonder of watching the match. It reminded Seamus of going to the World Cup together, sharing a tent and re-enacting the manoeuvres. It had also reminded him of the seething jealousy he'd felt when Dean had gotten to be on the Gryffindor team while Seamus had been left to root - alone - from the sidelines. Sure, Nev had been there but that hadn't been quite the same thing, not when he was used to trying to best Dean's insults with ones of his own.
Seamus finally rose from the bed and, after a shower, put on clothing that was not only looked but actually was clean. It was short work to make it to the main room where Dean slept underneath a pile of blankets on the transfigured sofa.
"Dean?" Seamus reached down and gave Dean's shoulder a shake.
"Lemmesleep," Dean muttered and, after checking his clock, Seamus shook him again.
"Come on, mate, it's ten now. We've somewhere to be at eleven."
"Sod off." Dean made to roll over and Seamus gripped his shoulder harder.
"I might've made you an appointment at hospital and it might be at eleven." At this admission, Dean finally emerged from the cocoon of blankets. He raised an eyebrow and then huffed.
"Sure of yourself, aren't you? What if I don't want to go?"
"You said you'd go, so I made the appointment." At least Dean hadn't thrown anything at him, whether it was a fist or a chair.
"All right." Dean rolled out of the bed and went towards the bathroom. "I have time for a shower, right?"
"Aye, you do."
That had gone better than Seamus had expected, especially considering how presumptuous it was of him to make that appointment with Parvati. It had seemed like a good idea until the time to implement it came, but at least Dean had seemed all right with it though the lack of enthusiasm was cause for concern. The water turned on and then, just a few minutes later, right back off. It was then that Seamus realised that Dean hadn't taken any clothes with him into the shower. Right on cue, Dean called out, "Err, Seamus?"
Seamus quickly Scourgified the worst of the wear out of the clothes and then walked them back to the bathroom and into Dean's outstretched hand. The temptation to grab that hand, haul Dean wet and naked out into the hallway and then lick the wet from his skin possessed him for an instant but Seamus caught himself before he could do more than linger against that skin. It was a small comfort to pretend that Dean's hand curled up against his through the fabric though.
The Tube ride to St. Mungo's went well, though Seamus couldn't quite get rid of the nervousness that coiled in his gut. Perhaps he should've sent word to Parvati that it was Dean that he would be bringing in. Perhaps he should've told Dean just what he might be in store for. Perhaps he should've… the thoughts weren't constructive and wouldn't help him get through this. When they reached Purge and Dowse, Ltd., Seamus spoke through the glass to the ugly dummy. "Seamus Finnigan and guest here to see Parvati Patil. We've an appointment."
"Are you mad? Why are you, oh that's cool," Dean started to ask but then caught himself when the dummy nodded and allowed them to enter.
They walked through the glass and into the reception area. They signed in, Dean first. When Seamus saw his signature, he remembered the first time Dean had seen his name written down. He'd laughed at it, pointing out that Seamus's name might as well be Hemus or Cuffus or Pleatus as far as the spelling of Seamus was concerned and what sort of shite spelling did the Irish do, anyway? Seamus had cuffed him but Dean didn't, wouldn't stop with the teasing. It had spilled into their time together, Dean calling him "Seem" instead of Shame or Shay, as his family did. It had prefaced every major event in their lives. "Seem," Dean had said as he told Seamus that he was dating Ginny. "Seem," Dean had said as he told Seamus that he'd broken up with Ginny. "Seem," Dean had said just before he'd kissed Seamus. "Seem," Dean had said when he'd asked Seamus to join the Order with him. "Seem," Dean had said when he said "I love you" for the first time. "Seem," Dean had said when he'd asked Seamus to move in with him.
"Seem," Dean had said just before he'd been hit with that curse.
The name haunted Seamus's dreams and the more he was around Dean, the more he wanted to hear it. The more he wanted what was before and not this awkwardness of now. He wanted them back so bad that he could taste it but he wouldn't do a thing until he heard that name. It was something only Dean would know.
"Did you see what happened to that bloke?" Dean pointed towards a man with an elephant's trunk for a nose.
"Probably got hexed for sniffing after the wrong bird, mate. Fourth Floor, please," Seamus requested as they entered the lift.
He wasn't quite sure where Parvati's office was so he was counting on the reception dummy to inform her that they were here. As they wandered down a hallway, Seamus saw her coming and then she stopped, fist against her lips. Dean continued walking though Seamus had stopped and they bumped into one another. Seamus stepped to the side and watched Parvati stare and then watched the tears form. She collapsed to the ground and Seamus hurried over and helped her to her feet.
"I should've told you who I was bringing," he whispered.
"Is that…"
"Aye, found walking in London with no memory of anything after eleven."
"So he doesn't…"
"No, doesn't remember the war, Hogwarts," Seamus paused as he looked everywhere but at Parvati. "Doesn't remember me, doesn't remember us."
"Oh, Seamus." Parvati embraced him tightly. She didn't need to say anything more, her exclamation was enough, the inherent sympathy in it had tears prickling and Seamus wiped at his eyes behind Parvati's back.
After letting go, Seamus and Parvati walked towards Dean. "Dean, this is Parvati, err, Healer Patil. She's a friend of mine, good with listening."
Dean reached out to shake Parvati's hand and looked confused. "I knew you, too, didn't I?"
"I'll, err, I'll leave you both to it." Seamus hurried away before he broke down.
It was only after he was back in the lobby that he realised that he hadn't asked for a time to be back. Parvati had her ways to get a hold of him so he wandered out into London. What he thought was mindless wandering took him to Dennis's door before he noticed.
His first knock went unanswered. The second did as well. The third, however, received a thud against the door. Wondering if it was worth the risk, Seamus unlocked the door with his wand and opened it a crack. When nothing impacted, he opened the door further and called out, "Dennis?"
"Go 'way!" A shoe came flying and hit the door.
"Dennis, I'm coming in." Seamus opened the door and, when nothing sailed towards him, he thanked the maker and entered the flat the rest of the way. Dennis was sprawled on the sofa, huddled under a blanket with more empty bottles than Seamus had ever seen anywhere other than a pub on a Friday night. "Oh, Dennis, what've you done to yourself?"
"They're gone, Seamus, they're all gone." The words were whispered and Seamus felt the pity well within him. He'd been so fixated on his own reunion that he'd forgotten that there wouldn't be any happy endings for Dennis. Colin's body had been buried with all the pomp and circumstance it deserved. Dennis hadn't cried as they'd lowered him into the ground before the giant monuments to those that had died in the war. Seamus's own grief and loss had been too fresh and the loss was just more piled on top of others.
"I know, mate, I know." Seamus carefully shut the door and carefully wove his way through the trash. He sat on the end of the sofa and Dennis lunged up and around, scattering the blanket and wrapping his arms around Seamus's waist.
"Why can't he come back too? Why 'm I alone? Was better when we were alone together, was loads better."
Seamus brushed down Dennis's hair. "Sh. He wouldn't want you like this, Dennis. He'd want you happy."
"Am tired of seeing him and knowing that it's not true. Am tired of the looks and the pity and the expectations and…" Seamus kept brushing across Dennis's hair as he clung. "I just don't know anymore, just can't do this anymore. Going to break and…"
"Then break, Dennis, break and we'll be here to put you back together. We're still here, you know, Parvati and Lavender were asking about you and if you can't deal with London, then there's Nev. I'm sure he'd be willing to have you stay for a bit, get away and rebuild yourself." It was almost as if Seamus granting permission was enough for Dennis as he opened up into gut wrenching sobs that came from deep within. They hurt to listen to, more terror and sorrow than tears in them as he cried. Seamus wondered, as the sobs continued, if this is what he had sounded like in the middle of the night, curled around Dean's pillow.
The pain was still fresh and Seamus wasn't quite sure how he was able to stay there and listen, offer comfort, when he, himself, was just as fucked up as Dennis was. He had no remembrance of what kept his hand brushing down Dennis's head, smoothing the mess of hair and playing with the cowlick.
When hands brushed skin, Seamus didn't realise at first, didn't think anything of it when Dennis's hands snuck under his shirt and brushed across his stomach and up his chest. Lips quickly followed and Seamus shuddered under the onslaught. They felt wrong but ever so right as Dennis sucked in the skin just to the right of his belly button, nipping at it before letting go and licking it. Seamus arched into the touch as Dennis turned to lick across his stomach, following the thin trail of hair to his waistband and undoing the fastenings on his denims. Breath brushed across skin and Seamus jumped off the sofa, fumbling with the button and zipper to get them closed.
"Fuck's sake, what the fuck?" Seamus finished fastening his denims and then slid his hands down his shirt, smoothing his hands across his chest and reassuring himself that Dennis hadn't gotten far.
"Just want to feel alive, thought you'd understand."
"Fuck, Dennis, fuck. Can't do that, won't do that. Jesus God." Seamus paced back and forth as he cursed. Dennis stood and moved to block Seamus's path. He raised his hands to press against Seamus's chest, stopping him in his tracks.
"I'm sorry, Seamus," Dennis whispered.
"Don't be doing that again, I mean it." Seamus pulled the hands off his chest.
"I won't." Dennis looked towards the ground.
"All right." And that was that. They sat on the sofa and flipped through the channels aimlessly until they settled on a footie match. That it was West Ham had Seamus's thoughts going back to Dean, what he was going through right now, if they'd done any tests or if the problem was solvable, if he should've left. The thoughts kept swirling even as Seamus concentrated on staying to his side of the sofa, careful not to touch Dennis at all.
As his thoughts repeated for the twentieth time, Seamus finally gave up and left before Dennis could say anything. He muttered a quick, "see you at Parvati's" and left it there. After looking about the alley behind Dennis's building, he Apparated to a safe spot a couple blocks from the hospital. The trip to the Fourth Floor was quick, though he found himself tapping his hand against his leg in a chaotic beat that did nothing for his nerves.
And just why was he nervous anyway? Dean'd be back if he had his memories back. They would be back if Dean had his memories. Except that Seamus wasn't quite sure of that. They'd changed in the four years since, built lives that diverged completely. Hell, Dean hadn't even thought of Seamus in at least three and a half years.
Seamus paused as he started to exit the lift. That small curl of vitriol towards Dean's mum hadn't twisted and turned until Seamus was blaming Dean for his lack of memories, had it? It couldn't have. Seamus knew that there had to be a reason for the loss of memories. Dean wouldn't choose to lose those years, no one would. But there was that little niggling voice in the back that kept saying that while Seamus had been suffering, Dean had been living his life without Seamus happily enough and that wasn't fair. It absolutely wasn't fair that Dean hadn't been stuck in a circle of loss and grief while Seamus had clung to the few things he'd been able to keep.
The doors dinged and Seamus finally slid through them. He breathed through his nose as he silenced that voice, pointing out that they'd only been talking for less than a week, in the grand scheme of things. It was asking quite a bit that Dean would jump right back into his original life after being shown a handful of photographs and a drawing or two. Didn't matter that Seamus kept sharing stories, this wasn't Dean's fault. It didn't quite silence that voice and he hated the voice and himself for doubting.
Wandering down the hallway, Seamus looked about for Dean or Parvati. Near the end of the long corridor, he saw them sitting together in a small cosy office. They were laughing and Seamus felt even more excluded. Before they could see him, he went back to the waiting area and took a seat, tapping thumb and forefinger on his upper leg as his foot joined the noise. He was only out there for a few minutes when Parvati and Dean returned.
"Good news, Seamus - " Parvati started.
"Ready to go?" Seamus interrupted as he asked Dean. Dean, for his part, exchanged a confused look with Parvati before nodding.
Without another word, Seamus turned and headed towards the lift. His fingers curled into fists as he bit back all the thoughts that wanted to spill out. It wasn't fair to lay all of this onto Dean, even more unfair than Seamus suffering as he had.
"Have a good talk?" Seamus asked as he stabbed the button to get the lift moving, once it arrived, instead of relying on the resident ghost.
"Yeah, I have to come back tomorrow for some tests since we didn't have time today and Vati knows a specialist that she thinks can help so she's - "
"'Vati', is it? Getting to be the best of friends, are you?" Seamus couldn't help the jealousy that flared and fuelled his irrational anger.
"She's a nice girl, easy to talk to."
"Yeah, I'm sure it's a lot easier to talk to her than to me," Seamus spat as Dean's head swivelled and he stared at Seamus.
"Something happen while you were out?" Dean's tone was even though Seamus could hear the burgeoning anger. For reasons he didn't want to think about, it satisfied him to think that Dean was getting mad.
"Four fucking years is what happened. Four fucking years alone and when I find you again, you talk to some-fucking-one else. Hell, you ran from me but you're awful chummy with someone you just met." The lift doors opened and Seamus stormed out. Dean's hand on his shoulder made him slow before he shrugged it off. "Don't touch me."
As always, I'd love to hear what you thought.
Chapter 6
Author: wook77
Pairing:: Dean/Seamus (other slash and het pairings contained within)
Rating: PG (Eventual rating: Hard R to NC-17)
100quills prompt: 35. Mask
Warnings: Canon compliant through DH. Pre-Epilogue. Additional Warnings at the beginning of Chapter 1.
Wordcount: Overall: ~70k This part: 4000
Summary: Four years ago, Dean Thomas died in the midst of a raid. Seamus saw it happen right in front of his eyes but seeing isn't believing and reality is in the eye of the beholder.
A/N: Many many thanks to nefernat for the beta job. All remaining mistakes are my own.
All Chapters
"All right, yeah." Dean still looked flummoxed from the tea and Seamus put the tickets back down.
"Keep messing things up, don't I?"
"No," Dean protested. "I wasn't expecting it, is all. Mum can't get it right, you know. Always adds too much sugar and not enough cream."
"Yeah, all right," Seamus unwittingly echoed Dean's earlier sentiment and Dean started to laugh. Seamus shook his head at the oddness of the moment. It was only a cup of tea, after all. He hadn't even realised what he was doing until Dean had reacted. They'd done it for years and he might be out of practise but he still knew what Dean liked in his tea.
"Match isn't until this afternoon and wasn't planning on going but since you're here, I think you'll like it."
"Why weren't you planning on going?"
"Don't much care about either of the teams. Don't mind when it's the Kestrels or even the Cannons but it's the Bats versus the Catapults and, honestly, both teams are shite." At Dean's blank expression, Seamus continued to explain, "Quidditch, mate. It's a Wizarding game and, well, you'll see."
They spent the time until the game going to the market and picking up some food to stuff Seamus's pantry. They argued over vegetables and fruits, crackers and biscuits. Their food tastes were just as disparate as they'd been before and the familiar routine of arguing over food was comfortable. Seamus pretended that the past four years hadn't happened. By the time they had the items from the market sorted and put away, it was time to head out to the game.
"Where's this game at?" Dean asked as they gathered up a few items to take along.
"Near Cornwall," Seamus answered off-handedly.
"Cornwall?"
"Aye." Seamus was confused about why Dean would be asking about the location or sound so disbelieving about it. Then the light dawned and he realised that Dean didn't know that they could Apparate the distance quickly or utilise a Floo connection. "Remember Apparating? That's how we'll be going."
"Oh, right." Dean didn't sound like he believed Seamus.
"Just grab a hold like before and we'll get going." Dean's arms came around him and Seamus held on to Dean's waist, not quite resisting the urge to press his face against Dean's chest. In a blink of an eye, they were at the Quidditch stadium in Bodmin Moor. "Come on, let's find our seats, maybe get something to eat."
Seamus tugged Dean through the crowd, holding on to his arm. Dean kept stopping and staring. Finally, Seamus gave up on getting them through the crowd; instead, he let Dean set the pace. There were so many different clothes and accents. Combining the sheer variety of people with the puffs of coloured smoke or the eruption of cheers and magic and Seamus could see why Dean was gaping. Seamus had forgotten how crazy and chaotic a Quidditch match could appear to someone. He'd completely forgotten the first time his mam had taken him to see the Kestrels. His expression had surely mirrored the one that Dean was currently wearing.
"Pretty crazy, isn't it?" Seamus nudged Dean's hip with his own.
"There's just so much, isn't there? So much magic and stuff. Did you see that?" A child walked past with a catapult that hurled small bits of candy at passers-by. Smoke bats swooped through the air and Dean ducked as one got too close to him. Seamus reached up a hand and swiped it through the black smoke, causing it to dissipate into the air.
"Wait until you see the action," Seamus said with a grin and then pulled Dean to the ticket taker, handing over the tickets and then they walked up to the box. It was a Ministry box so it was filled with people from work. He didn't recognise anyone there, though, and relief swept through him. Dean might not be ready to meet more people that he didn't remember. The announcer's voice echoed through the stadium and the players came flying out on their brooms.
"Holy shit," Dean gasped. "They're on brooms. Brooms!"
"Aye, Nimbus 4000s, to be exact. They're the newest broom on the market and they sure make the game faster. That guy there, he's a Beater. His job's to keep the Bludgers from hitting anyone on his team." Seamus pointed to the man that flew close to the box before sweeping back into the centre of the stadium. "That one? He's a Chaser. He's to put the Quaffle in the hoops you see at the end. There's a bloke called a Keeper that tries to keep that from happening."
The players flew to the centre of the pitch and landed on the ground. "They're about to toss the balls into the air."
"Blimey, this is crazy!" Dean exclaimed as the players took to the air after the balls. "How the hell do they do that?"
"I'll have to get you up on a broom. You used to love it, was on the Gryffindor House team, actually. You were good at it; beat me out to be on the team, actually." Dean's wide-eyed gaze swung over to Seamus and he laughed. "Christ but I was pissed, too. Pouted for weeks until you beat the shit out of me and we were back to friends."
"I did… I did this?" Dean looked gobsmacked.
"Aye. Watch now, Farrelly's going to go after the Snitch, it's the little gold thing flying about. He's a Seeker and not a good one, to be honest."
The game continued but Seamus stopped watching it. He'd seen it plenty of times before. What he hadn't seen in years was the gobsmacked expression on Dean's face. It was like they were eleven again. Just like back then, Seamus pointed out plays and fouls and Dean absorbed it all.
"Send him off, ref! Red card!" Dean burst out and Seamus, stuck in the past, suddenly couldn't breath. "Dammit, did you see that? They didn't even call it, are they sodding well… Seamus? You all right?"
"You, you sa - " Seamus stumbled over what to say to explain the wrench and ache. "I need a minute. Be back."
He hurried out of the box and once outside, leaned against the wall, trying to get control of the swirl of emotion. It was just like the first time they'd watched Quidditch together. Just the exact same, right down to Dean's exclamation. Seamus's hands shook as he pressed his back against the wall. He clenched his fists until they stopped their shaking and he felt a bit steadier. When he opened his eyes, he barely bit back the startled yell. Dean was standing directly in front of him.
"You all right?" Dean asked. "Cause if I said something wrong back there, or whatever, I'm sorry."
"No, it's just, when you saw your first match when we were kids, you said the same thing and it sort of got to me. It's nothing." Seamus shrugged off the emotions. "Come on, we're missing some good goals."
Seamus and Dean walked back into the box. As the game wore on, one then two then three hours passing, Dean continued to watch the action and yelled at the referees and players. He picked up the terminology quickly and, soon, Seamus went back to watching Dean instead of the game. It was almost surreal to see the excitement and hear the exuberant utterances after so many years of doing without. He ignored the impending appointment and the strain that it might put between them already.
He wondered how he was able to deal with Dean being right there and not immediately tackle him, cling like a wanton geebag until Dean protested the treatment. It was almost as if he was in a state of denial and fear, like this whole thing was merely a dream that was going to disappear if he enjoyed it too much. Just in case this was true, he absorbed and catalogued every gesture and expression. He memorised the way that Dean leapt from his seat to scream or exchange high fives with the man next to him depending on what was occurring on the pitch.
When the game finally ended, seven hours later, Seamus was exhausted. They walked towards the Apparition zone and Dean was talking like a man possessed, arms flailing as he re-enacted certain manoeuvres, including the way that Donaldson captured the Snitch to put the Catapults up at the end of the game.
When they got back to the flat, Dean was still talking, fingers occasionally brushing Seamus's face or shoulder.
"Mate, this was the best, thanks. I can't believe that this sort of thing exists! This was just as good as footie, gotta tell you."
"Welcome," Seamus responded with a grin. "I get free tickets all the time so we can go to another game, if you'd want."
"Want? God, do I ever. This was bloody fantastic!" Dean flopped onto the sofa, arms outstretched and laid his head back against the cushions, closing his eyes. "I'm knackered, though, absolutely knackered."
"Yeah, me too." Now was the time to tell Dean about the appointment with Parvati. He lost his courage, though, in the face of the bliss and happiness of the day. "See you in the morning."
"Sure, yeah. We can actually have breakfast now that you finally have some food in this place. I'll cook, if you want."
"Sounds good. Night." Seamus crawled into bed, clinging to the spare pillow. When he fell asleep, he had a smile on his face. This had been the best day he'd had in four years.
~~**~~
When morning came, it dawned dark and dismal. If he believed in omens, Seamus would take it for a bad sign of what was to come. It's a good thing, then, that he doesn't believe in them, hasn't since playing around with his homework back at Hogwarts and getting shining marks to reward the faking. For the first time since he moved into the flat, he worried about going outside his bedroom. The reason for it was simple, he hadn't told Dean about the appointment. Worse, he'd omitted the information on purpose.
They'd had a brilliant time at the Quidditch match yesterday. The look on Dean's face had made sitting through the game worth it. The few people sharing the box hadn't gone to Hogwarts with him, so they didn't know Dean. They'd been able to be casual and friendly while Dean's face showed the wonder of watching the match. It reminded Seamus of going to the World Cup together, sharing a tent and re-enacting the manoeuvres. It had also reminded him of the seething jealousy he'd felt when Dean had gotten to be on the Gryffindor team while Seamus had been left to root - alone - from the sidelines. Sure, Nev had been there but that hadn't been quite the same thing, not when he was used to trying to best Dean's insults with ones of his own.
Seamus finally rose from the bed and, after a shower, put on clothing that was not only looked but actually was clean. It was short work to make it to the main room where Dean slept underneath a pile of blankets on the transfigured sofa.
"Dean?" Seamus reached down and gave Dean's shoulder a shake.
"Lemmesleep," Dean muttered and, after checking his clock, Seamus shook him again.
"Come on, mate, it's ten now. We've somewhere to be at eleven."
"Sod off." Dean made to roll over and Seamus gripped his shoulder harder.
"I might've made you an appointment at hospital and it might be at eleven." At this admission, Dean finally emerged from the cocoon of blankets. He raised an eyebrow and then huffed.
"Sure of yourself, aren't you? What if I don't want to go?"
"You said you'd go, so I made the appointment." At least Dean hadn't thrown anything at him, whether it was a fist or a chair.
"All right." Dean rolled out of the bed and went towards the bathroom. "I have time for a shower, right?"
"Aye, you do."
That had gone better than Seamus had expected, especially considering how presumptuous it was of him to make that appointment with Parvati. It had seemed like a good idea until the time to implement it came, but at least Dean had seemed all right with it though the lack of enthusiasm was cause for concern. The water turned on and then, just a few minutes later, right back off. It was then that Seamus realised that Dean hadn't taken any clothes with him into the shower. Right on cue, Dean called out, "Err, Seamus?"
Seamus quickly Scourgified the worst of the wear out of the clothes and then walked them back to the bathroom and into Dean's outstretched hand. The temptation to grab that hand, haul Dean wet and naked out into the hallway and then lick the wet from his skin possessed him for an instant but Seamus caught himself before he could do more than linger against that skin. It was a small comfort to pretend that Dean's hand curled up against his through the fabric though.
The Tube ride to St. Mungo's went well, though Seamus couldn't quite get rid of the nervousness that coiled in his gut. Perhaps he should've sent word to Parvati that it was Dean that he would be bringing in. Perhaps he should've told Dean just what he might be in store for. Perhaps he should've… the thoughts weren't constructive and wouldn't help him get through this. When they reached Purge and Dowse, Ltd., Seamus spoke through the glass to the ugly dummy. "Seamus Finnigan and guest here to see Parvati Patil. We've an appointment."
"Are you mad? Why are you, oh that's cool," Dean started to ask but then caught himself when the dummy nodded and allowed them to enter.
They walked through the glass and into the reception area. They signed in, Dean first. When Seamus saw his signature, he remembered the first time Dean had seen his name written down. He'd laughed at it, pointing out that Seamus's name might as well be Hemus or Cuffus or Pleatus as far as the spelling of Seamus was concerned and what sort of shite spelling did the Irish do, anyway? Seamus had cuffed him but Dean didn't, wouldn't stop with the teasing. It had spilled into their time together, Dean calling him "Seem" instead of Shame or Shay, as his family did. It had prefaced every major event in their lives. "Seem," Dean had said as he told Seamus that he was dating Ginny. "Seem," Dean had said as he told Seamus that he'd broken up with Ginny. "Seem," Dean had said just before he'd kissed Seamus. "Seem," Dean had said when he'd asked Seamus to join the Order with him. "Seem," Dean had said when he said "I love you" for the first time. "Seem," Dean had said when he'd asked Seamus to move in with him.
"Seem," Dean had said just before he'd been hit with that curse.
The name haunted Seamus's dreams and the more he was around Dean, the more he wanted to hear it. The more he wanted what was before and not this awkwardness of now. He wanted them back so bad that he could taste it but he wouldn't do a thing until he heard that name. It was something only Dean would know.
"Did you see what happened to that bloke?" Dean pointed towards a man with an elephant's trunk for a nose.
"Probably got hexed for sniffing after the wrong bird, mate. Fourth Floor, please," Seamus requested as they entered the lift.
He wasn't quite sure where Parvati's office was so he was counting on the reception dummy to inform her that they were here. As they wandered down a hallway, Seamus saw her coming and then she stopped, fist against her lips. Dean continued walking though Seamus had stopped and they bumped into one another. Seamus stepped to the side and watched Parvati stare and then watched the tears form. She collapsed to the ground and Seamus hurried over and helped her to her feet.
"I should've told you who I was bringing," he whispered.
"Is that…"
"Aye, found walking in London with no memory of anything after eleven."
"So he doesn't…"
"No, doesn't remember the war, Hogwarts," Seamus paused as he looked everywhere but at Parvati. "Doesn't remember me, doesn't remember us."
"Oh, Seamus." Parvati embraced him tightly. She didn't need to say anything more, her exclamation was enough, the inherent sympathy in it had tears prickling and Seamus wiped at his eyes behind Parvati's back.
After letting go, Seamus and Parvati walked towards Dean. "Dean, this is Parvati, err, Healer Patil. She's a friend of mine, good with listening."
Dean reached out to shake Parvati's hand and looked confused. "I knew you, too, didn't I?"
"I'll, err, I'll leave you both to it." Seamus hurried away before he broke down.
It was only after he was back in the lobby that he realised that he hadn't asked for a time to be back. Parvati had her ways to get a hold of him so he wandered out into London. What he thought was mindless wandering took him to Dennis's door before he noticed.
His first knock went unanswered. The second did as well. The third, however, received a thud against the door. Wondering if it was worth the risk, Seamus unlocked the door with his wand and opened it a crack. When nothing impacted, he opened the door further and called out, "Dennis?"
"Go 'way!" A shoe came flying and hit the door.
"Dennis, I'm coming in." Seamus opened the door and, when nothing sailed towards him, he thanked the maker and entered the flat the rest of the way. Dennis was sprawled on the sofa, huddled under a blanket with more empty bottles than Seamus had ever seen anywhere other than a pub on a Friday night. "Oh, Dennis, what've you done to yourself?"
"They're gone, Seamus, they're all gone." The words were whispered and Seamus felt the pity well within him. He'd been so fixated on his own reunion that he'd forgotten that there wouldn't be any happy endings for Dennis. Colin's body had been buried with all the pomp and circumstance it deserved. Dennis hadn't cried as they'd lowered him into the ground before the giant monuments to those that had died in the war. Seamus's own grief and loss had been too fresh and the loss was just more piled on top of others.
"I know, mate, I know." Seamus carefully shut the door and carefully wove his way through the trash. He sat on the end of the sofa and Dennis lunged up and around, scattering the blanket and wrapping his arms around Seamus's waist.
"Why can't he come back too? Why 'm I alone? Was better when we were alone together, was loads better."
Seamus brushed down Dennis's hair. "Sh. He wouldn't want you like this, Dennis. He'd want you happy."
"Am tired of seeing him and knowing that it's not true. Am tired of the looks and the pity and the expectations and…" Seamus kept brushing across Dennis's hair as he clung. "I just don't know anymore, just can't do this anymore. Going to break and…"
"Then break, Dennis, break and we'll be here to put you back together. We're still here, you know, Parvati and Lavender were asking about you and if you can't deal with London, then there's Nev. I'm sure he'd be willing to have you stay for a bit, get away and rebuild yourself." It was almost as if Seamus granting permission was enough for Dennis as he opened up into gut wrenching sobs that came from deep within. They hurt to listen to, more terror and sorrow than tears in them as he cried. Seamus wondered, as the sobs continued, if this is what he had sounded like in the middle of the night, curled around Dean's pillow.
The pain was still fresh and Seamus wasn't quite sure how he was able to stay there and listen, offer comfort, when he, himself, was just as fucked up as Dennis was. He had no remembrance of what kept his hand brushing down Dennis's head, smoothing the mess of hair and playing with the cowlick.
When hands brushed skin, Seamus didn't realise at first, didn't think anything of it when Dennis's hands snuck under his shirt and brushed across his stomach and up his chest. Lips quickly followed and Seamus shuddered under the onslaught. They felt wrong but ever so right as Dennis sucked in the skin just to the right of his belly button, nipping at it before letting go and licking it. Seamus arched into the touch as Dennis turned to lick across his stomach, following the thin trail of hair to his waistband and undoing the fastenings on his denims. Breath brushed across skin and Seamus jumped off the sofa, fumbling with the button and zipper to get them closed.
"Fuck's sake, what the fuck?" Seamus finished fastening his denims and then slid his hands down his shirt, smoothing his hands across his chest and reassuring himself that Dennis hadn't gotten far.
"Just want to feel alive, thought you'd understand."
"Fuck, Dennis, fuck. Can't do that, won't do that. Jesus God." Seamus paced back and forth as he cursed. Dennis stood and moved to block Seamus's path. He raised his hands to press against Seamus's chest, stopping him in his tracks.
"I'm sorry, Seamus," Dennis whispered.
"Don't be doing that again, I mean it." Seamus pulled the hands off his chest.
"I won't." Dennis looked towards the ground.
"All right." And that was that. They sat on the sofa and flipped through the channels aimlessly until they settled on a footie match. That it was West Ham had Seamus's thoughts going back to Dean, what he was going through right now, if they'd done any tests or if the problem was solvable, if he should've left. The thoughts kept swirling even as Seamus concentrated on staying to his side of the sofa, careful not to touch Dennis at all.
As his thoughts repeated for the twentieth time, Seamus finally gave up and left before Dennis could say anything. He muttered a quick, "see you at Parvati's" and left it there. After looking about the alley behind Dennis's building, he Apparated to a safe spot a couple blocks from the hospital. The trip to the Fourth Floor was quick, though he found himself tapping his hand against his leg in a chaotic beat that did nothing for his nerves.
And just why was he nervous anyway? Dean'd be back if he had his memories back. They would be back if Dean had his memories. Except that Seamus wasn't quite sure of that. They'd changed in the four years since, built lives that diverged completely. Hell, Dean hadn't even thought of Seamus in at least three and a half years.
Seamus paused as he started to exit the lift. That small curl of vitriol towards Dean's mum hadn't twisted and turned until Seamus was blaming Dean for his lack of memories, had it? It couldn't have. Seamus knew that there had to be a reason for the loss of memories. Dean wouldn't choose to lose those years, no one would. But there was that little niggling voice in the back that kept saying that while Seamus had been suffering, Dean had been living his life without Seamus happily enough and that wasn't fair. It absolutely wasn't fair that Dean hadn't been stuck in a circle of loss and grief while Seamus had clung to the few things he'd been able to keep.
The doors dinged and Seamus finally slid through them. He breathed through his nose as he silenced that voice, pointing out that they'd only been talking for less than a week, in the grand scheme of things. It was asking quite a bit that Dean would jump right back into his original life after being shown a handful of photographs and a drawing or two. Didn't matter that Seamus kept sharing stories, this wasn't Dean's fault. It didn't quite silence that voice and he hated the voice and himself for doubting.
Wandering down the hallway, Seamus looked about for Dean or Parvati. Near the end of the long corridor, he saw them sitting together in a small cosy office. They were laughing and Seamus felt even more excluded. Before they could see him, he went back to the waiting area and took a seat, tapping thumb and forefinger on his upper leg as his foot joined the noise. He was only out there for a few minutes when Parvati and Dean returned.
"Good news, Seamus - " Parvati started.
"Ready to go?" Seamus interrupted as he asked Dean. Dean, for his part, exchanged a confused look with Parvati before nodding.
Without another word, Seamus turned and headed towards the lift. His fingers curled into fists as he bit back all the thoughts that wanted to spill out. It wasn't fair to lay all of this onto Dean, even more unfair than Seamus suffering as he had.
"Have a good talk?" Seamus asked as he stabbed the button to get the lift moving, once it arrived, instead of relying on the resident ghost.
"Yeah, I have to come back tomorrow for some tests since we didn't have time today and Vati knows a specialist that she thinks can help so she's - "
"'Vati', is it? Getting to be the best of friends, are you?" Seamus couldn't help the jealousy that flared and fuelled his irrational anger.
"She's a nice girl, easy to talk to."
"Yeah, I'm sure it's a lot easier to talk to her than to me," Seamus spat as Dean's head swivelled and he stared at Seamus.
"Something happen while you were out?" Dean's tone was even though Seamus could hear the burgeoning anger. For reasons he didn't want to think about, it satisfied him to think that Dean was getting mad.
"Four fucking years is what happened. Four fucking years alone and when I find you again, you talk to some-fucking-one else. Hell, you ran from me but you're awful chummy with someone you just met." The lift doors opened and Seamus stormed out. Dean's hand on his shoulder made him slow before he shrugged it off. "Don't touch me."
As always, I'd love to hear what you thought.
Chapter 6