"Winchester!" Professor McGonagall called.
Dean skidded to a halt and looked around with a frown. "Yes?" he asked, trying at politeness. "Professor," he added.
McGonagall waited where she was. Dean finally walked to her with trepidation.
"Yes, Professor?" he tried again.
"Mr. Winchester, your brother is in the first year, I gather?"
"Yes, Professor."
"You work to get money for you and your brother?"
"Yes, Professor?" he said, frowning.
He had been since four years. How could this be a problem now?
"Okay," she said, patting his shoulder with a smile. "Get back on time, Dean."
Dean gave a smirk and nodded. He turned around and started running again, catching up with his other Gryffindor mates.
It is only when he is tying the apron around his back at The Three Broomsticks that he realized how weird McGonagall's stopping him was. He shook his head and winked at Madam Rosmerta before grabbing a tray with butterbeers.
Castiel sighed. Every boy that is, all his brothers sitting beside him relentlessly flirted with Madam Rosmerta (except Michael, but then Michael didn't flirt with anyone). Castiel was surprised that no one noticed the other server. But then again, all his brothers looked down upon homosexuality, no matter how the protests led by Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy had changed the wizarding world. They still lived by the word of the Bible their parents had taught years ago. Castiel lived by it too; however he refused to believe their interpretations.
Dean Winchester, as he had learned from his second youngest brother, Gabriel, was beautiful and hopelessly straight. He flirted with everything female that moved and his charm wove itself so indefinitely into a net that it enveloped them in seconds.
"Zachariah, sent me an owl saying that he'll be in down this Christmas and he'll come bearing presents for us, so each one of you should find something for him today," Michael announced.
Lucifer scoffed and got up. "I'm going to The Hog's Head with Lilith. Get me the same thing you buy," he told Michael, covering his long neck with his equally long Slytherin scarf.
Michael rolled his green eyes at his twin brother. Lucifer just gave a smirk before walking out the door. Lucifer was as pale as the snow. His light blue eyes flickered once through the dirty window before he vanished.
Michael sighed once and took out his money bag. He handed a galleon to each brother.
"I expect you to buy something good. If, only if, there is money left, you will be allowed to get candy. Gabriel, you cannot get candy for Zachariah. You know he hates it," he instructed, standing up. "We will reconvene here in two hours. Have fun, brothers."
All the others scrambled to get up and drift away to find their own friends. Samandriel went over to a bunch of Hufflepuffs (Inias Porter, Jimmy Novak and Andrea Barr); Gabriel drifted off to his girlfriend, Kali; Balthazar clapped Castiel's shoulders and went out to smoke with his 'multi-house buddies' and Michael went off murmuring something about the wrongness of first years being allowed on Hogsmeade trips. Castiel remained sitting in his seat, hoping the server would come to pick up the empty butterbeer bottles and firewhisky bottles belonging to Lucifer.
Castiel drank the last dregs of his butterbeer extra slow to delay Madam Rosmerta. He downed the last sip when Madam Rosmerta was called back and exchanged her duties with Dean. Castiel leaned back in his chair, waiting for Dean.
"Hey," Dean said with a smile as he levitated the bottles onto his tray.
Castiel smiled at him, slammed by the closeness. He cleared his throat and looked away when he realized that Dean was frowning at him. "Um, hello, Dean," he says, lamely.
"Oh, you're one of those Angelov kids. Which year are you in?" Dean asks, resting the tray at his hip.
"Fifth," he replies. Just like you. God damnit, Castiel is a stalker.
"That's awesome. Me too," Dean says, clapping Castiel's shoulder and walking away. "See you around," he calls over his shoulder.
"Of course, I'll see you around but you won't see me because I'm practically invisible," Castiel murmurs to himself, animatedly.
"Castiel, are you talking to yourself?" a voice asked.
Castiel got up quickly. "N-no, Professor Potter," he tells James Sirius Potter, their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.
James smirks at him and pats his shoulder. "What is it that you Americans say? Stay classy?"
Castiel laughs a little. "Let me guess? Gabriel told you that."
"Right in one. But, I'm afraid he's lying isn't he?"
Castiel nods with a smile.
"Of course he was." He winks and leaves.
Castiel wanders aimlessly, the Galleon feeling like deadweight in his pocket. He could just get socks like every year… Or a book like Zachariah gets him. He sighs and enters Gladrags Wizardwear. He locates a pair of light blue socks decorated with lightning-shaped scars. Zachariah would love it, he thinks and buys it. Anything to impress his boss.
Castiel gets out with a couple of sickles and knuts. He buys himself a second hand book about Quidditch. The first page says that it belonged to a Fred Wazlib. He frowns at the name.
He drifts off to Honeydukes Sweetshop. Sure enough, he finds Gabriel there buying as much candy as his hands can hold with the galleon Michael gave him. Castiel smirks at him.
"I'll give some to Zachy… Maybe," Gabriel says, returning his attention back to the sweets.
Castiel picks a couple of Liquorice Wands and a Pumpkin Pasty. He's thankfully broke after that.
Gabriel sidles up to him. "I know why you're buying that Pumpkin Pasty," he says.
"Sure, you do," Castiel says, unimpressed, picking the stuff up and biting into a wand.
"I can help you with him."
"With whom?" Castiel asks walking out.
"With Dean Winchester," Gabriel says, lowly, following him.
"I don't need help," Castiel says, carefully. He stops to size Gabriel up.
"Yes, you do," he replies, rolling his eyes.
"How?"
"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Gabriel says with a glint in his eyes.
"I swear, you're the son of George Weasley," Castiel says, raising an eyebrow.
Gabriel shrugs. "To-may-to, to-mah-to. Either way, I can get you their best love potion."
"Gabriel, I'll rip your tongue out even if you think about that," Castiel says, starting to walk again.
"Hey, come on. He'd love you," Gabriel continues, following Castiel, stumbling over his feet.
"I don't need your help, brother. I promise. Now, go get Balthazar from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and try to get some actual presents between the two of you. You know Michael's temper."
Gabriel shudders a little that has nothing to do with the cold. "Right," he says, walking in the opposite direction. "Tell me if you still do," he calls after Castiel.
Castiel nods in his direction but obviously Gabriel isn't paying attention to him anymore. He looks at Gabriel, watching him run away. He stops only when he hits a solid body.
"Sorry," he splutters.
Of course, it's Dean. That's his luck. Just his luck. His luck. His great, great luck. He should stop saying luck and listen to what Dean's saying.
"… freak out. It's all okay, man," Dean's saying, holding Castiel's shoulders in a firm grasp.
"Y-yeah," Castiel splutters, nodding.
"Oh, cool. Pumpkin Pasties. I love them. Closest to pie I get here," he says with a grin.
Castiel holds it out to Dean. Dean frowns. Castiel frowns back.
"What?" Dean asks.
"Take it."
"Why?"
Because I bought it for you. Or at least to think about you when I eat it a couple of weeks later. "Because I don't want it."
Dean frowned and shook his head. "No, you bought it."
"I don't like it," Castiel shrugged.
"Then why did you buy it?" Dean asked, shifting his head to a side and frowning.
"I don't have a good response for that," Castiel said, biting the inside of his cheek.
Dean laughed. "You're weird, man."
"Weird's relative," Castiel said with a shrug.
"Yeah, I mean good weird."
"Does that mean we're friends?" Castiel asked.
"What?" Dean asked, brows furrowing.
"Does that mean we're friends?" Castiel asked, reddening and scratching a phantom itch on his… Ravenclaw scarf? Oh, he was wearing a scarf.
"Sure," Dean said, surprised. "If you want to be." He looked genuinely surprised as to why someone would want to be his friend.
Castiel closed Dean's hand around the Pasty. "Friends give friends things."
Dean rolled his eyes with a smile. "Then here," he said, handing Castiel a galleon.
Castiel frowned. "I can't take that," He shook his head.
"Well, as much as I'd like to pay you back for the Pasty, that's not real money. Remember Hermione Granger and her awesome galleon system to communicate?" he asked, taking the wrapping off the Pumpkin Pasty.
"Of cours-" he stopped, his eyes widening at the galleon in his hand. He looked at it with reverence. "Is it-"
"No, no," Dean huffed. "It's not one of them. I made it myself."
"Y-yourself?" he gasped.
"Why are you so surprised?" he asked, coolly.
"No! No offence. I just… My brother is in the seventh year and he blew up a box of fake galleons trying to imitate that spell."
"You mean Lucifer?"
"No, I mean Michael."
"Mike-I mean, Michael couldn't do this spell?" He sounds astonished with no trace of smugness. Just the tone of someone who can't believe that they could be smart.
"Yeah… So much for being Head Boy and top of class," Castiel murmurs, turning the galleon in his hand with even more reverence than before. "Thank you, Dean," he stated with such sincerity that Dean took a step back.
He smiled softly, the area around his eyes crinkling. "No problem, Cas."
Castiel smiled back.
It was only after Castiel lay down on his four poster bed to sleep, after ample amount of staring at the galleon, that he realized he had never mentioned his name to Dean and he still knew. He even called him Cas. He smiled, drifting to sleep.