Dean loved to draw. He loved the way ink set on parchment, and the more versatile it was than pencil on paper. He loved how paint could be blended together; making a color that even Merlin himself had never set his eyes on. Seamus, Dean's best friend, supported all that he ever did, even though everyone else commented on how 'girly' drawing was. Dean took to charcoals, drawing blacks, whites, and grays, the sunset turning dreary and lifeless instead of filled with wonder and beauty. Seamus usually received drawings and paintings from Dean for random events; Birthdays, Christmas, whenever West Hamm won a cup. Seamus loved the drawings, and hung them up around his four poster bed, much to Dean's delight.
He had never given his charcoals away, though, even to Seamus. Seamus complained loudly about this, saying that everything he drew should be shared with everyone and not just hidden away from the world. Dean had replied with a cheeky smile and a muttered "Thanks". Dean took to drawing Seamus, especially when he wasn't looking. 'Kept from the world' was a more literal term for these; the light of day never hit them. In fact, he drew half of them after hours, when he remembered a face that Seamus had made, or when he just happened to peek over at Seamus sprawled out in his bed. He had actually drawn him sitting, one elbow holding him steady as he looked into the sky on a beautiful spring night. That was one of the good memories they shared.
Dean had become a better drawer over time, and he had also noticed the little things about Seamus that not even his girlfriends could see; the little speckles of green in his blue eyes, the way his hair moved when he got caught outside, the way the corners of his mouth turned up when he smiled…and that accent! He could listen to him talk forever (which is what he did all the time; Seamus was talkative). Dean had slowly come to a realization: He was in love with his best friend. At first, he shrugged it off. Who could be in love with Seamus? And he was just a best friend. But as the days progressed, he noticed that he was staring at him longer and longer each day. Finally, Dean had to tell him. What could he do? Just sit and wait around until it exploded out of him? He couldn't. So he decided that telling him was the best thing he could do. He just hoped that he wouldn't lose his friendship with one of his favorite subjects.
He went outside, where Seamus was sitting near the Black Lake, looking at the sunset. Dean had gone up to him and asked if they could talk. Seamus had agreed to, and Dean sat down next to him. He then confessed everything in a very Gryffindor way. It just poured out of him like water. Seamus just stared, mouth opening slightly. Dean had to draw that face later. After he was done, Seamus just sat there, staring, blue on brown. Finally, he leaned over and kissed him tenderly, Dean quickly realizing, kissed him back. Neither one attempted to deepen the kiss. They just kissed each other in a steady rhythm. When they finally broke apart, Dean smiled. Seamus had turned a bright red, and had a goofy look on his face.
Dean had kept his friend, both quickly turning into lovers. They tried to keep it from everyone, but it quickly spread that they had been sharing beds some nights. They weren't doing anything, just cuddling and stuff. Dean had to tell that to so many people before they believed him. When everyone found out about them, they had been happy that they had finally done it. There was a fair share of people that were homophobes, the ones who jeered at them while they were holding hands in the hall, or even just talking to each other the way they did before the whole thing ever happened.
Dean and Seamus both remembered there first time. It was the spring of their sixth year, and they were lying in Seamus' bed. They were talking about there first kiss, and when they had both realized they loved each other. Seamus had then kissed him, and things got carried further then they expected. Later, Dean hadn't regretted it.
But Seamus did. He had realized that he wasn't ready for all of that, and he had tried to tell Dean about his feelings. But Dean had just raised an eyebrow, saying that they had already gone through with it, but if he had really felt that way, then he could go his separate ways.
And he did.
Dean had been broken apart by this. Seamus looked like he didn't care on the outside, but on the inside, he was slowly dying about it. Everyone noticed the two slipping away, and some people decided that enough was enough.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, even Draco and Snape were there. They had told Dean that he needed to get Seamus back. Dean said nothing. And Dean just wept silently afterwards. Dean knew that he wanted Seamus back. And he knew that the only way to get him back was to give him something that he had never given him.
Seamus looked into the brown eyes he had once loved, and then looked down at the charcoal. It was beautifully depressing; blissfully melancholy. Seamus' blue eyes filled with joy and his voice cracked when he said:
"I'm sorry."