This was written for Lady Phoenix Fire Rose's challenge: The Ultimate Boredom Solver Challenge. Written in under an hour, mind you, so don't judge my lack of creativity.
I was given the prompts: fire, death, night, mystery, sweet darkness, hidden desire, bloody handkerchief, a midnight dance, darkest fears, and wallop. My title prompt was the title given, and the quotes I had to use are: "Forgiveness is the virtue of the brave", "He just gets really moody", and "Live for me".
I realize that this entire fic may not make a whoooole lot of sense near the end, but I like it a lot. My first Deamus fic soo cheers!
The Second Wizarding War brought many things. It brought fire and death, and let it wreak havoc over all of those who were possessed the strength to fight. It brought to life so many peoples darkest fears of their loved ones perishing, and their homes being destroyed. And most of all, it brought nightmares to every survivor.
Immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts ceased, and the wounded were taken away, Seamus and Dean found themselves clinging to one another, sobbing and confessing everything pent up over the past seven years of friendship. Seamus finally admitted to being gay. Dean let slip the hidden desire for Seamus he'd been harbouring for what felt like forever. No one noticed the pair snogging against the charred wall of what used to be their school.
They moved in together. They'd been planning on being roommates since the start of seventh year, and now they could be more than that and have the privacy of their own home to do whatever they pleased in.
And often what they pleased was sex. Loud, raucous, steamy sex.
It was a midnight dance of sorts. They wrestled in the sheets, lips pressed everywhere, teeth nipping at sensitive flesh. The mattress creaked continuously, pushing further and further against the wall with each passing moment. The night, in all its sweet darkness, kept them covered in a blanket of black afterwards, and let them doze off in each other's arms, sweat-drenched and contented.
Dean nearly always slept well. It was Seamus who was plagued with dreams of the most volatile kind.
They were always the same in a few senses: set during the battle, with crumbling corridors and the heavy smell of brimstone and flame. And usually, they included Dean. Dean hurt. Dean crying. Dean wounded. Dean dead.
The worst yet occurred on a balmy July night. Seamus's heart was pounding in his chest, shaking his ribs. And not just from the earlier feel of his boyfriends lips round his member. With his freckled eyelids shut, he saw horrifying images that made him sick to his stomach.
Dean was fighting hoards of Death Eaters. He narrowly dodged well-aimed Killing Curses to his head, and shot a few Unforgivables himself. Seamus wanted to rush towards him and make sure every one of the lowlifes who were attempting to hurt Dean were dead in a second, but he was paralyzed.
It was when all the Death Eaters had fallen to the ground, clutching their wounds, unable to move, that Dean spun on his heel and smiled with relief at Seamus. A wave of gratitude washed over the shorter boy as he made to hold his lover, but in a split second, a flash of green lit up the dark sky.
Dean toppled to the rubble-showered ground, unmoving.
Seamus fell upon him and rolled him over to get a look at his eyes. The once lively, russet irises were suddenly lifeless and still. Already his dark cheeks were losing color, and his mouth hung open slightly, as though he were about to say something. Teardrops fell upon his face as the boy above him clung to his corpse, shaking and screaming for help, yet no one appeared.
And that's how he awoke. He sat straight up in bed, chest heaving, unable to stop the flow of water from his eyes. Dean woke with him, sitting up as well and wrapping his long arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder.
"What's happened, Shay?" he murmured in a sleepy haze. Seamus gasped when he heard the voice and turned towards him. His small hands grabbed Dean's biceps, to which the latter boy quirked a brow. Then he saw the tears and sighed.
"Live for me," Seamus ordered, almost choking on the words. Dean tried to wipe away the wetness on Seamus's face, but he received a shake instead. "Promise ye'll live for me! Promise, Dean! I can't be without ye! I don't wanna be! Promise me ye'll live for me!"
"I p-promise," Dean muttered. He watched as Seamus went limp, dropping his forehead to Dean's chest. Dark arms wrapped around the small, pale body and held him close. "How many dreams like this have you had, Shay? Honestly."
The Irish lad shook his head a bit and managed to get out, "Dozens. All of you dyin' in the Battle. Sometimes ye're stabbed, and there's a bloody handkerchief in my hands. Sometimes you get a wallop to the head. Sometimes it's a mystery." Fresh sobs elicited from his thin lips.
"I'm not going anywhere," Dean soothed, rocking them gently. "I'm right here. But you have to remember that forgiveness is the virtue of the brave. And you're nothing if not brave." Tapping Seamus's chin a bit to see his face, he smiled small.
"M'not forgiving bloody Voldemort. He's fucked in the head. Let alone everything else."
Dean shook his head. "No, what he did was unforgivable. You need to be able to forgive yourself for not saving everyone in the battle you wanted to. It wasn't your fault, and you need to understand that."
Seamus looked up at Dean's hopeful eyes and nodded a bit in response, and pressed his lips to his boyfriends. His fingers ran along Dean's chocolate skin, quickly finding the appendage between his legs. A smirk could be felt from Dean's end of the kiss.
"When people ask me how you bounce back so fast, all I say is, 'He just gets really moody'," Dean chuckled. A smile was pulled onto Seamus's face as he pushed Dean back into the bed.
"Don't get cocky with me, Thomas. I bounce back 'cause if I didn't, I'd always be sad. Remember, forgiveness is the virtue of the brave. And I don't know if you'll forgive me for what I'll do to you."
He winked his twinkling blue eye before lowering himself onto Dean.
Not very long, but don't judge.
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