Seamus lay sprawled across his bed, limbs akimbo and face buried in his pillow to swallow any tears he might shed. His mind played the scene over and over and over again: Dean and Ginny, hands entwined, mouths pressed against each other's, eyes closed. It was not a new scene, but it was one that had repeated itself several times, enough that Seamus was leery of being near Dean with Ginny anywhere in the vicinity. They had an awful tendency to jump one another spontaneously and start snogging, those kinds of interminable kisses that just seemed to stretch on and on and on.
"Seamus?" Dean had exclaimed the first time, startled upon finding his best mate goggling at the two of them. "Oh, hey, I hadn't told you 'bout Ginny, I guess. We're...er...dating."
"Yes," Ginny had agreed, leaning her head on Dean's shoulder, "we are."
Seamus had simply stood there and gawked, unable to get over just how perfect the two of them looked together: her straight locks, the color of shiny new two pence, against his charcoal curls, her creamy complexion against his dark, her soft curves and sparkles against his angles and glow. Beautiful, he thought, despairingly clutching at his pillow, and so would their children be, all lovely brown eyes, fire and water at the same time...
Seamus let himself sob once, hiding the sound in the recesses of the lovely marshmallow fashioned for his head. He could see it now, could see their wedding day, could see Dean all handsome and wonderful and so, so beautiful in his suit standing beside a radiant Ginny, could see every strained time he'd come over for a falsely friendly Christmas dinner as the third wheel. Each time they'd meet, it would hurt a little bit more, knowing that smile on Dean's face belonged to Ginny and Ginny alone. They would break apart slowly and painfully, and it would tear Seamus's heart to shreds, but at least Dean would be happy, even if it was with someone who wasn't Seamus, and maybe he could even find somebody a bit like Dean someday...a shoddy replacement, to be sure, but at least he wouldn't have to be entirely empty. Seamus sobbed again, and, this time, scalding tears leapt to his eyes and soaked into the fabric of his pillow.
"Shay," sighed Dean heavily from the doorway, "what's up?"
Panicking, Seamus hid himself under his covers.
"Nothing," he replied, his muffled voice an octave higher than usual. "'M a bit tired. May be coming down with somethin'. You should probably...leave me."
The last two words almost broke Seamus, and another sob tore itself free from his mouth. Terrified of discovery, he coughed in a pathetic attempt to cover it up...and actually ended up contending with a coughing fit. By the time Seamus could gasp for oxygen, there had been no response. He relaxed; perhaps Dean had listened to him and gone...
Something warm and solid plopped itself on his bed, right where Seamus's feet normally went and where his head currently was; somehow, he'd managed to turn himself upside down while shimmying under the covers.
"Ginny and I broke up," Dean told him, his voice weary. "There was all this shouting, and she was so fixated on this idea that I'd pushed her through the portrait hole. I didn't, Seamus, I swear I didn't, but she was so furious... Didn't you hear any of this?"
Was too busy moping about how you two were gonna marry and have perfect little babies, Seamus thought, sniffling.
"Nope," he responded, careful not to become overeager.
"Blimey, mate, you sound awful," remarked Dean, his voice concerned. "Here, lemme have a look at you. May be a cold or something."
"No, no, it's good!" cried Seamus, wriggling around frantically to evade Dean's grip through the covers. "'M fine, Dean. Just...go and have fun!"
Dean pulled the covers off the bed entirely, pouncing playfully on Seamus and pinning him to the bed. Seamus caught his breath, trying his very best not to hyperventilate as Dean's eyebrows knit together anxiously.
"Have you been...crying?" he asked slowly, raising one hand to touch Seamus's face and pulling it back very suddenly. "Seamus, what's wrong?"
Seamus stared fixedly at Dean's hand, which had curled into a sort of fist at his sternum.
"Nothing," he assured Dean, rubbing his eyes, "just not feeling so peachy."
Dean narrowed his eyes, the loose fist against his chest tightening so that the knuckles whitened.
"Is someone upsetting you?" he demanded. "Seamus, tell me what's wrong. Tell me."
Just in love with you, that's all.
"Nothing," insisted Seamus, turning his face to one side. "Dean, I'd tell ya if someone was bothering me. Promise."
Dean didn't budge.
"I don't believe you one bit," declared Dean, "and I am going to wait for you to trust me, because, clearly, no one is capable of such a feat."
Before Seamus could even get out a word of apology, Dean had pushed off the bed and exited the room.
~0~0~
Things were tense between them after that, Dean's anger continuing even into the celebratory Quidditch party. Seamus sat with him unwaveringly, refusing to acknowledge any unvoiced objections Dean may have had.
"You shouldn't stare," he advised Dean, following the taller boy's gaze to Ginny. "Isn't going to earn you any bonus points with anyone."
Dean didn't respond, didn't even look Seamus's way, and Seamus felt a painful something seize at his heart. He rocked backwards on his feet, reeling from the sheer agony it was to fight with his best mate, and Dean, still not speaking, reached out on hand to steady him. Gritting his teeth, Seamus shoved the hand away and glowered. Dean glanced at him for the first time in days, startled at the sudden enmity, and opened his mouth to say something...
...and then Harry kissed Ginny, and Dean shattered the glass he was holding.
"Bloody...right after...what in the hell..." ground out Dean, irately casting the shards to the ground and disappearing into the crowd.
Seamus pulled out his wand, cleaning up the mess, and sprinted after Dean, apologizing to those he bumped into on the way. Dean was nowhere to be seen in the common room, as Seamus would have expected. Glancing quickly behind him once more, Seamus hurried up the stairs to the boys' dorms.
"Dean," began Seamus from the doorway of their dormitory, "your hand. Oh, Merlin, your hand."
"Yeah," muttered Dean, fisting the bleeding appendage, "my hand."
Seamus gingerly took a seat beside his (ex?)best mate on his bed, reaching out to touch Dean's wrist. When Dean didn't pull away, Seamus took his hand and uncurled the fingers, biting his lip at the sight. His palm was a bleeding mess, some shards of glass still lodged in the flesh. Seamus sucked in a deep, slow breath.
"This is going to hurt," he warned Dean, "but not as much as if I tried to pull the glass out manually. Ready?"
"Sure. Whatever."
"Accio glass."
Dean's hand twitched, his jaw clenching, as the pieces of glass flew from his wounded hand. Seamus carefully collected the bloodied pieces, setting them on the ground for the time being, and closed up the cuts. Without saying anything more, Seamus rose to leave, discarding the glass and cleaning off his hands with a muttered charm.
"Wait," called Dean, lifting his head, "please."
An awful part of Seamus longed to leave, to make Dean feel as terrible as he'd felt, but something in his friend's voice made him stop.
"You don't have to say thank you," Seamus told him stiffly; in truth, it had been nice to be so near Dean again, "so don't."
"Right. Thank you. Sorry," exhaled Dean, directly disobeying Seamus's words. "I shouldn't...Seamus, I was just worried about you and upset that no one ever seemed to trust me. Between you not telling me what was wrong and Ginny...well...being Ginny, I was furious, and I couldn't very well take it out on Ginny, so...you were the one who got the brunt of it. I'm sorry."
Seamus turned around, softening without really wanting to at all. Something about Dean turned him into such a sop.
"I could tell you what's wrong, but you'd hate me, so you vent about tonight before I tell you," ventured Seamus, his voice fragile.
Dean looked at Seamus in askance, but he shook his head. He'd made a resolution to tell Dean, and tell Dean he would...after Dean ranted.
"Okay," breathed Dean, "here I go."
Seamus sat down next to him, inserting helpful indignant remarks whenever Dean paused for breath, enough that Dean didn't need to stop for a response. As Dean spat fire, Seamus watched him, taking in every detail of Dean. It would be the last time, what with what he was going to announce. Eventually, Dean stopped and waited for Seamus to reciprocate with his own story, closing his mouth and meeting his eyes. Seamus opened his mouth...and stopped. For what was probably the first time in his life, he didn't quite know how to speak.
"Well," whispered Seamus, "you were dating Ginny, and I s'pose I'd thought I'd always have you to meself. Took you for granted. When you went off with her, though...I felt something awful in me chest. Was jealousy. I started really hating her, and then I couldn't hate her, 'cause she was making you so happy. Went from anger to despair real quick. Started seeing you two on your wedding day, beaming and happy, having kids...leaving me. 'S why I was crying."
Dean was silent for a long while.
"So...you were crying because you thought I'd forget about you," he repeated slowly, frowning. "I couldn't ever do that, Seamus. Not ever."
"Well," muttered Seamus, "that's not the whole of it."
"What?"
Now you've gone and done it, Finnigan. Real clever.
"Dean...I...er...I sorta..." he managed, stumbling over his words. "Iloveyou."
Dean blinked, his frown deepening, and Seamus felt a twinge of fear that transformed into paralyzing terror. He was going to break off the friendship completely, was going to hate him, was going to-
"I don't understand what you said," Dean finally replied. "Say it again. Slower."
"Have to say it again?" he whimpered, curling into a small ball.
"Want to make sure I heard you right," confirmed Dean with a nod.
Seamus squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the solid whack that was inevitably going to follow the declaration.
"Dean...I...I...love you," he managed, tensing.
The blow didn't come. There was only silence. Seamus began to panic. He would open his eyes, and Dean would be gone. Gone forever, never to return to him...
But someone was laughing, and that someone sounded like Dean.
"Seriously?" gasped Dean, and Seamus's eyes popped open. "Seriously?"
He felt his gut twist. Dean thought it was a funny joke. It wasn't. It wasn't.
"It isn't funny," he muttered, bursting into tears.
Dean stopped laughing instantly, his arms instantly encircling Seamus's small self. Seamus shook, crying loudly and thoroughly like a toddler. Fat tears dropped onto his shirt and Dean's arm, splattering upon impact.
"Shay," murmured Dean, "it's okay. It's okay."
"I...I was so scared you were gonna leave me," hiccupped Seamus, burying his face in Dean's shoulder.
"Oh, Seamus," breathed Dean, "I could never do that. I could never, ever leave you."
"B-but I had a dream," he sobbed. "I t-told you, and you went away..."
Dean rubbed small, soothing circles into Seamus's back, and he relaxed slightly, the sobs calming.
"I'm here, Seamus, right here, will always be here, could never, ever, ever leave your side," he hummed, leaning his head against Seamus's, "because I love you, too."
Before Seamus could fully process Dean's quiet words, his mouth was preoccupied with Dean's mouth, and...and...
It was perfect.