Holding Hands

And it's barely a flicker of red on chestnut-brown, but Seamus sees it and he reacts the way that's instinctive. He lets out a gasp – a shriek or howl of annoyance – and his hand lunges forward to clasp around Dean's. His breaths are ragged and uneven and he can't contain such anger, but his cold fingers trace the marks burnt into the other boy's flesh.

I will obey orders.

"She did this?" he asks. It's all he needs to say.

Dean nods. It's all he needs to do.

And there's a moment of silence where Seamus fights the need to get closer, fights the unresolved feelings settled across his chest, and he realises his hand is still touching Dean's. With his cheeks red, he lets go.

But he'll never really let go.

Interrupted Declaration of Love

Seamus is going to say it. He's going to and he can watch the scene playing before his closed eyelids – the confession, the kiss, the warmth. He will draw upon his Gryffindor courage and the embrace to follow will be desperate and romantic and no-one and nothing else will matter.

He swallows his pounding heart and calls him over – Dean Thomas, with his dark skin and his darker hair, and his long fingers and his brilliant smile. Seamus is going to say it. He's going to and it will be perfect.

"Yeah, Shay?" says Dean's voice, his lips playing that familiar grin. "What's up?"

There are sparks and spells bursting around them, are explosions of greens and reds and blues and debris scattering at their feet. But he licks his lips and he smiles because he's ready to say it.

"Dean, I lo –"

"Avada kedavra!"

A shot of neon light narrowly misses Dean's shoulder.

Seamus isn't going to say it, after all.

Kissing in a Tree

He catches himself staring at the back of his best mate's head, catches himself almost longingly thinking of what he could do if he had the chance. Dean shakes his head and goes back to the parchment before him, continuing to scribble with his quill – fuck, what's the point? He can scarcely remember what subject this is, and Seamus's beautiful cheekbones are doing nothing to help with that.

So immersed in his drawing, he does not notice when class is over until a gentle nudge interrupts him. He looks up, shielding his work – a hastily-sketched picture of Seamus, flashing his signature Take-Me-Now smirk – and tries his best at a smile.

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil are the last people he wants to see, but they hover before him with their wry grins and their knowing looks and he can't help but feel annoyed at the fact that it's them and not Seamus. Lavender plays with the hem of her robes, and Parvati giggles into her hand, and Dean raises his eyebrows because he needs to know what they do.

He can't help himself. "What?" he asks.

"You like him!" Lavender says. "You like Seamus!"

Dean feels heat creep up his neck. "What? How could I –"

"Dean and Seamus, sitting in a tree," Parvati sings.

Lavender beams. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Please don't."

"First comes love."

"Parvati, stop –"

"Then comes marriage!"

"Don't do it!"

The girls look at each other and continue chuckling. Parvati even has the grace to blush. "Then comes a baby in a baby carriage!" They chime in unison.

"Shut up!"

Moment Killer

Greens and reds engulf them, painting a backdrop around their bruised figures. Their canvas – a broken castle and a cloudy sky – does nothing to the way Dean catches Seamus's eye, does nothing to the way he can't tear his gaze away. There's a moment where nothing else exists but them, and it's a time where he wishes he could stay in forever. Has there ever, truly, been anyone else that mattered to him besides Seamus? He can't recall.

His legs move on their own accord, and he can almost see it happening before him. He can feel himself closing the distance and feel his heart hammering in his chest, and he can count the seconds, the footsteps, the breaths. And there Seamus is, waiting, his lips parted like he knows what to expect.

Dean stops, inches away, and lets himself embrace the moment itself. Lets himself stare into Seamus's eyes and fall into them.

"Just kiss already!"

"Neville!" Dean and Seamus shout, their cheeks burning red.

"I don't even want to anymore."

"Five fucking years in the making and he just ruins it."