My choises of houses, patronuses etc. are up for discussion but remember, it's just my opinion. Discussion for the sake of discussion is always welcome. Unbeta'd so sorry, tell me if there's any major fuck-ups. Thanks :3 -Lara
It's been weeks. Weeks full of increasingly pitying looks, hushed conversations and mentions of his name. Dean will forever curse the day the ministry decided that conjuring a patronus should be added to the seventh-year program (thanks a lot, Voldemort), because for the love of all things holy, he just can't do it.
Every year there's one or two students that fail to master this spell, and although the teachers assure that it won't affect anyone's grade if they succeed or not, everyone just knows who you are for the rest of your time in school. It kinda draws attention to oneself - the wrong kind that you want to stay away from. Dean's seen that happen to some people in the passing years and it's not pretty. And it's also not something he want's for himself. Now it's just starting to look like he's going to be patronus-less, as the fucking fog his wand is sprouting out fails to take shape. Again. The lesson ends and he grabs his stuff and flees the classroom in a flash of black, red and gold.
It doesn't take very long for Cas to find him sitting in the yard. Figures; the bastard's known him for six odd years and always seemed kinda telepathic where Dean was concerned. Being the perfect little Hufflepuff he is, Cas hands Dean his quill that he'd left behind as he sits beside his friend in utter silence. Dean hopes he'd keep that way, but no luck.
"You still have two days before professor Crowley's going to move on to the next spell." Easy for him to say, Dean thinks. Cas had gotten it right during the first days, producing a bloody beautiful wolf. Dean's actually not sure if it is a small wolf or just an enormous dog, but Cas's calling it a wolf so he's running with it. He's not a fucking scientist. When Dean says nothing in response, Castiel continues "We could try it together, I think I could be more useful, maybe check the library?"
Dean can't help but snort at that. "Didn't we do that two days ago? Fuckloads of good that did, I mean the problem isn't with my pronunciation or technical shit like that right? I just need time to accept that i can't do it and move on."
Oh great, now Cas's frowning. "Nonsense, yes you can. The fault might still be with the memory you're using. Did you try changing it again?"
"Yes, i did! Many times, even." He has tried every Sam related memory that he has, his family's happier moment's, when he first got to Hogwarts… And nothing. There is, of course, the urge to use some more delicate memories and thoughts that he has proclaimed taboos even inside his own head and shoved them to the dark corners of his mind (and even then he prays that nobody starts using occlumency on him, dear god no). Too late he realises that this isn't actually not thinking about it and Dean smacks himself on the forehead because he will not use those memories because he's stronger than this and it doesn't matter how beautiful smile Cas has.
"There's no need to harm yourself, Dean." Oh yeah, Cas was still here. Shit, he must've been quiet for a while now. "Stop frowning Cas, you'll get wrinkles before you're twenty-five. I can practically hear you scowling over there." Dean absently picks at a loose yellow thread on his scarf. "And by the way, you never told me what you were thinking when you got it right. Shouldn't telling me help, share'n care and so on all that crap Sam loves?"
"As I previously stated, some things are private and should stay that way. In turn I haven't asked what the failed memories used so far have been. Individuals are different and work differently, and you'll surely find the right one on your own. As long as you're honest with yourself."
They're silent for a while, enjoying the rare warmth of the afternoon sun. At some point Castiel decides he's had enough of Dean's fiddling, and with a flick of his wand repairs the scarf so it almost looks new. There's a snort and a muttered 'perfectionist' from Dean, but he looks somewhat less depressed. Time for Castiel to up his game a little.
"What are the chances that professor Crowley would believe us if we tried to convince him that your patronus is an amoeba? They actually look a lot like the fog you have produced."
"My god Cas, how are you such a dork?" This time it's a real smile on Dean's face: ten points for Cas. "Sometimes I wonder why we're friends."
Castiel bites back the 'you love me, really' -response that almost rolls off the tip of his tongue. "You're not the only one who has yet to succeed, Elsa for example. Don't worry so much or you'll get a headache."
"Cas, I am the only one. Even Elsa, the fucking stupid bimbo badger managed the spell today. Didn't you see?"
"Actually I did, but just hoped you didn't. Sorry."
Dean barks a laugh. "Don't ever change."
"You should not call people 'stupid bimbo badgers'"
"C'mon, she still get's lost on her way to breakfast. Your common room is practically next door."
"...Just the latter two terms, then. Let's get inside so we won't be late and look at your patronus later."
As they walk back Cas asks in a quiet voice if Dean knows that his friends won't actually care if he fails in the next class, but all he gets is a murmured "yeah".
"Oh my god Dean how can you be this stupid? You're messing with your own head and can't make a spell work because of it so you come for my help? I swear we are not related."
Dean has to wince at the explosive tone Sam's using. Apparently so do many others and great, now they're causing a scene in the middle of the Ravenclaw common room. Curious fuckers. "Sam let's talk outside."
As soon as the door closes behind them Sam's on it again. "How can you not conjure a friggin' patronus on your own, huh? From what I heard even Elsa managed just fine."
"I know that! No need to rub it in but me 'n Cas have tried everything, I even read a book for crying out loud and it just isn't working!"
Sam's got his bitchy-ass face twisted in a mildly sceptical scowl. "Oh yeah? And pray tell, what was Cas's theory?"
"Something about using a wrong memory, not helpful so I came here 'cause this thing's tomorrow and Crowley's gonna whip my ass if I fail one last time."
"You do realise Cas's usually right? About everything?", Sam sighs.
"What part of 'not helpful' do you not understand? Gosh shouldn't you be the smart one."
"Okay, look" Sam runs his fingers through his hair and starts pulling at the strands in frustration. "I get that you have trouble with handling feelings and being happy, allowing yourself to be happy - whatever. I don't know if that makes you emotionally cripple or just an idiot but that's something you should talk to your boyfriend about."
"HEY-"
"BUT, knowing you, I can see that you're somehow fucking with your own head which is probably preventing you from choosing the right memory and thus, is the core of your problem. I mean, you can't just pick the last time you ate a really tasty slice of pie and pop a patronus- please tell me that you didn't actually think of pie? Dean look at me"
Oh joy, now he's blushing. "Shut your cakehole, I got really desperate, what of it!"
Sam has noisily planted his face in his gigantor hands, mumbling something like 'no', 'adopted' and 'fucking calcutta'. Then again, it's hard to be sure with the hands in the way.
Finally, his brother seems to get a hold of himself. "If you really want my advice, I'd say that you just think about it, try to relax, meditate for all I care; but just be honest with yourself, you'll hopefully find the right memory. Let's just hope that actually is the error instead of your articulation or something.
Dean reflexively flips him off. "You know, that's actually the same thing Cas said."
"Of course it is", Sam says and snorts unattractively. "I swear he's like other half of your brain. The functioning one. But you should really fuck off and go think about stuff, like Cas said. Listen to Cas." Get the hint, dumbass.
"Yeah whatever, later bitch." Dean's gone before the ravenclaw has a chance to answer.
"So, Winchester, decided to try one last time?"
Crowley has gone through every other student in the classroom already, and so far everyone's got it right on the first or second try. Some of the patronuses still linger in the room; the book he and Castiel had read said that it's a sign of a more powerful and/or controlled spell. Cas's wolf is pacing around them, watchful, and so bright. Dean feels he couldn't be more proud of his friend, and calms down a little. Some people don't seem to be so lucky; he swears some kid's patronus was a large salmon that's probably now swimming around here somewhere. Some spirit animal.
But Crowley, the bastard, is waiting. He can feel all the eyes on him and absently thinks someone's probably betting on the outcome. It's all a bit absurd right now, as the only pair of eyes that matter are looking back at him. The familiar shade of blue calms him down even more, and Dean swears he can almost hear the sentiment behind it.
I know you can.
Cas had never said 'if', he was so sure. Sometimes Dean thought his friend knew him better than he did himself. Cas said he could, so he would, damn it. If just to see his bright smile and feel the happiness of knowing Cas was happy. He thinks about the rumpled hair and last Christmas when he'd fallen asleep on the sofa using Cas's head as a pillow. Somewhere along the six years worth of remembering the words just fall out. Expecto Patronum.
Dean is still locking eyes with Castiel so he misses Crowley's gobsmacked face and their classmate's sounds of surprise. He feels a huge enough shock as he turned to look at his creation, actually fully formed this time. After realising it is a fuckhuge wolf, he tries to keep his expression as blank as possible. Cas is not doing such a great job at that, his face slides from confused to appalled as he watches Dean's bigger wolf step towards his own. 'Shit', Dean thinks as they sniff at each other and his better not be wagging it's tail. Nobody has said a word. He thinks he heard Cas let out a little whimper, still staring at the patronuses practically paralysed. They both know what this is, they read the same fucking book and had the same lecture in this room, and time stands still for a while.
Same animal. Same species. Soulmates.