It hurt to smile. Seamus had noticed this when he had first seen Dean in the Room of Requirements, after so many months of not knowing what had become of his Muggle-born best friend. He noticed it again now, as he sat down at one of the house tables – Ravenclaw, he thought, though at this point it didnt really matter – and grinned at Lavender Brown, who shrieked and threw her arms around him.

For the past ten minutes or so, he had been wandering between the house tables, basking in the euphoria of a battle fought and won. He had seen Neville, whose defeat of Nagini had been nothing less than epic, and thumped him on the back; he had lifted Hannah Abbot, who had saved his life by throwing a flowerpot at a Death Eater about to attack him from behind, into a hug that had raised her feet clean off of the ground. Now, he sat and half-listened to Lavender ecstatically recount how she had duelled a Death Eater and won, thanks, of course, to Dumbledores Army, since she had never been able to satisfactorily perform a Stunning spell before Harry had taught them all in fifth year –

"Alright, mate?"

Seamus looked up and saw Dean, who was spattered in blood.

"It's not mine," said Dean, when he saw Seamus looking. Seamus chose not to ask.

"You made it," he observed instead. The relief was stark in his voice.

"Looks like it," said Dean. "I promised to try and do that, remember?"

"Yeah," Seamus replied. "I think the exact words were, 'Don't die or anything, Thomas', and you said, 'Get bent, Finnigan'. It was really classy."

"It was," agreed Dean. "And now you know that I'm a man of my word."

"Now I know," said Seamus. "I also know that you have undershorts with butterflies on them."

"Well, I know where you sleep," Dean responded pleasantly.

Seamus laughed. He had not realized until that moment, when the weight was lifted from him, how worried he had been.

"Hey, Thomas," he said.

"Yeah?" replied Dean.

"You've got something – blood, I think – on the back of your head – just there – " and, half-rising, he swatted Dean in the back of the head. Dean grinned and shook his head.

"Finnigan, if I weren't so glad that you're alive, I would kill you."

Seamus swatted him again. "Still glad?"

"You won't get a rise out of me today."

Seamus grinned wickedly and Dean regretted his words instantly.

"I haven't had a good challenge in ages."

"You were okay with the Death Eaters?"

"Oh, well, except for that."

Dean sat down next to Seamus and inspected his friends swollen face.

"Are you missing teeth?"

"Just the one," Seamus replied cheerfully.

"Beating people up with your face again?"

"It's a tough habit to break." He looked around, spying an empty cup at his elbow. "You know what we need, mate? Drinks all around."

Dean shook his head, hard-pressed not to smile. Everywhere he looked, people mourned and rejoiced in equal measure. The day had had its tragedy, Dean knew, but there was enough hope to go around, too. The battle was won, and what was more, he and the people he cared about had made it through. For the first time in a long time, he felt very sure that everything was going to turn out alright after all.