Dean doesn't know why Seamus wears those socks to bed.
Dean hates socks. He never wears them. But he's aware that most people don't wear the damned things to bed.
It's not even like they're normal socks. Knee-length, light blue, star covered demons they are. With vertical stripes of dark blue evil adding to the horrible sight.
The other boys don't Dean's problem with the socks. Sure,
Ron stile stifles a few giggles everytime he sees them and Harry always looks hastily away. Neville's reaction scares Dean the most. Neville looks at the socks with...love?
Adoration? But mostly he looks like he wants to wear them, if even for one second.
As if Seamus would ever let that happen. Seamus had told Dean that no one aside from himself and Dean could ever touch the socks. The Irish boy obviously thought that was touching, moving, the best way to tell Dean that Dean meant the world to him. Dean though it was the best way to make him throw himself off of the North Tower.
Dean had written out the only circumstances under which he would touch the socks on the back of a Charms essay once. Flitwick's expression when he found the list would have,
had Dean seen it, been entirely worth the horrible grade he got on the essay.
-Why Would I, Dean, Touch The Socks of EVIL?-
-if I was going to feed them to the giant squid
-if I was going to chuck them into the Forbidden Forest
-if it was Seamus' dying wish that I did so
This last additon was hastily scribbled out.
Sadly, Dean knows he's stuck with those socks. He's stuck with the socks because he's stuck with Seamus. But, quite frankly, Dean wouldn't have it any other way.