It seemed like an act of defiance as they did it. They could take their freedom and their safety, but they couldn't stop a couple of teenagers from touching each other. Each grasp and stroke of sweaty fingers, each heavy breath and roll of their hips, felt like a little victory.
The rush is over now. They lie together on top of his deep red covers with the curtains drawn, their heartbeats slowed to normal. He closes his eyes and wavers on the edge of sleep; she looks over at him and watches.
Lavender's finger idly circles her navel. "Do you remember the Yule Ball?" she asks.
"Greatest night of my young life," says Seamus without opening his eyes.
"There's no need to be sarcastic."
He rolls over and meets her eyes with an unexpected something like tenderness. "Yeah," he says. "I remember."
"How your dress robes were too long and you fell down the bottom step." She giggles. "Every girl's dream, that."
"You wouldn't have even known about that if Neville hadn't told you," he grumbles. "How long did it take you to get ready, six hours? Felt like I was waiting in the entrance hall for ages."
She lightly pushes his shoulder. "I wanted to look good for you. God knows why."
"When really, I prefer you without anything on."
Lavender laughs it off, comforted by Seamus being Seamus, when he hasn't in so long. "You remember the Durmstrang boy who asked me to dance?"
"When I was standing right there. The nerve on those gits."
"I'd have gone with him too, if you hadn't been so rude about it," she says, just to wind him up. "Bet he wouldn't have stepped on my feet."
"That was only once!" he insists.
"At least you let me dance with Dean, though, he could do it properly-"
She realizes what she's said too late and Seamus's easy smile slips from his face.
"I'm sorry," says Lavender.
He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."
"It's alright." There is nothing to say but she can't stop talking. "I know I'd be a right mess if it were me. If it were Parvati, I mean..."
"More important things," he mutters as he turns away.
"If you want to talk about it," she ventures tentatively, reaching over to touch his bare shoulder, "I can listen."
"Lav, let it go." He sits up and pulls back the curtains, groping for her underwear on the ground. "We should get dressed before Neville comes back."
And just like that, with a slip of the tongue, Seamus is no longer being Seamus and the moment is gone. She stands up and looks at his back, the bruises and cuts she hopes she remembered to be gentle with.
"Take care of yourself, Finnigan," she says, knowing he won't.