Author's Note: Alright, so this here is a short spin-off, side-story sort of deal, which corresponds with my other fanfiction titled 'Love Games'. It's not utterly necessary to read 'Love Games' first, but if you want to know what the hell is going on in the beginning, it would probably help a lot. As of now, I'm intending this to not be as long as 'Love Games' currently is, but I may change my mind later, depending on how this story is received and how much I like writing it. I've never even read a Dean/Seamus fic before, so please tell me if I'm doing it horribly, and I will try to improve. With all that out of the way, I hope you enjoy it, and I would of course be thrilled if you leave me a review. I consume them as much as I am currently horfing down Reese's Puffs. So like, a lot.

Included in this story is sex between two males, some slight angst, and a fair amount of Irish slang with some Gaeilge thrown in for good measure.

Seamus gulped nervously. He tried to keep calm, to stay and just freaking relax. It was charms, for fuck's sake. He could get through this.

But why was it so bloody hot in here?

He wasn't exactly sure when it had started. They had been normal friends, hitting it off nearly right after they arrived at Hogwarts, when they were on the boats going across the lake. It had been pure luck that they had been sorted into the same house. Well, perhaps that was what had attracted them to each other. The typical Gryffindor traits ran through all of them, and made them closer because of it.

But now it was different. They weren't eleven anymore. That fearful first year with sandy brown hair, freckled cheeks, and wide eyes had grown into a sixth year with sandy brown hair, freckled cheeks, and still slightly wide eyes. Yes, he was the same, but he was different too. Older. More mature. More…hormonal. And definitely more confused.

For Seamus was attracted in a different way now. He couldn't just think of Dean Thomas as a friend anymore, no matter how hard he tried to quell his desires. But that was how Dean saw him.

A friend.

Seamus scribbled a few words down to pretend he was taking notes. Professor Flitwick was often interesting at least, being about four feet tall with a tiny grating voice. But Seamus was distracted today by other, more attractive things. He tried not to look, but the bloke was like a magnet, drawing his attention constantly. Seamus's eyes roamed over Dean's profile for the thousandth time, hopefully without him noticing.

He took in yet again that darker skin. Seamus felt as pale as a fucking ghost, but Dean always jokingly called himself 'light mocha', because he was only 'half-black'. His dad was some sort of wizard who had run off after Dean was born, from what he had told Seamus. Apparently he had been white, because all of Dean's step brothers were black, and his mother and step father were as well. He seemed to stick out a bit from the others in his family, though, and didn't quite fit in.

Seamus wondered if that skin really tasted like light mocha. He always imagined it did.

Dean must have inherited his father's eyes, too, Seamus thought. They had always struck anyone who looked into them, because they were an odd bright blue. It contrasted with the darker hue of his skin, but they were wide and quite striking even on their dullest day, piercing into your very soul. His face was slightly framed by loose, boyish curls that were so dark brown, but not quite black. His nose was delicate and slightly upturned, his voice velvety smooth, his muscles defined and taught beneath his robes. He was fucking perfect.

And all the while, Seamus suffered. Suffered because he was unable to look for too long, or touch, or even say how he felt. Dean was straight, and he was not. That was how things were. That was what he was.

A friend.

"I feckin' hate my life," Seamus groaned into his hands. He flopped onto his bed, covering his face in shame.

Thank bloody Merlin that all his classes were over with for the day. He had been fighting off an erection valiantly all afternoon, and now he could just curl up and slowly pass away from either humiliation or sexual frustration. He couldn't decide, but surely one would win out soon enough.

It had been getting worse. Last year, Seamus had been getting some rather odd feelings about his best mate. The one who had stuck by him, entertained him when he was bored, helped cover up some rather problematic damage due to a misfired spell, and even got him a date with Lavender to the Yule Ball. These odd feelings had confused him for ages. It had almost felt as though they were a bit too close for their own good. But that couldn't happen, could it? And Dean didn't seem to be having any problems…

It was when Dean started dating other girls that Seamus began feeling burning hatred for them. But it was surely because they just took time away from hanging out as mates, right? Surely it would be fine once Dean managed to balance it out, having a girl and a friend to please.

Wrong. It wasn't immediately solved like he had thought it would be. A permanent sick feeling had taken residence in his stomach, twisting painfully every time he saw a girl saunter up to him. Seamus had got a fair few bit of offers too, mind. But none he was very enthusiastic for. Why was it so easy for other blokes to tolerate these women? They were bloody frustrating and overreacting all the time to the littlest things. He found it much more bearable to be around the other boys. No, he couldn't stand girls. Especially the ones that drooled over his best friend. Even when Dean had moved on to Ginny Weasley, Seamus had immediately gained an unpleasant view of her. He had never mentioned it, of course, but it was clear the girl was a no-good whore who was out to ruin everyone's lives and steal their best mates. Plus, she didn't treat him right. They always fought over stupid things, like why he spent so much time goofing off with Seamus.

Bitch.

He sighed and looked over to the curtains that were half drawn around his bed. They were scarlet, reflecting his house colors. The whole bloody room was decorated in red and gold, actually, as well as the common room, and most likely every other dorm room for the Gryffindors. He got it and everything, the house pride, but bloody hell. Sometimes too much is too much.

Feeling bitter, Seamus kicked off his shoes and tried to find something else to complain internally about.

Unfortunately, he was interrupted by the door banging open and Dean thundering into the dorm. He was clearly raging about something, but at least he wasn't yelling. Yet.

He looked adorable when he was angry.

"Bloody – I can't even – who does that?" He finally shouted, fisting a hand in his own hair.

"What is it?" Seamus asked, sitting up immediately.

"Ginny!" he said angrily, sitting on his own bed next to Seamus's. "She asked me to go flying with her this afternoon, and then just now told me she had never said it! What, am I fabricating things? I'm not going mad, I swear she said it! We made plans just yesterday!"

Seamus waited until Dean finished ranting, trying not to express the glee building up inside him. Maybe if the redheaded harpy continued to drive him insane, Dean would end it, and Seamus would have him all to himself.

Not that it mattered, because he would never get what he really wanted…

"I'm sorry, mate," Seamus said sympathetically. He did sort of feel bad that Dean was having such a rough time with the girl. It seemed one minute they were sickeningly happy, and then the next they were at each other's throats. Was that how it was supposed to be with a relationship? Seamus didn't think so.

"It's okay," Dean sighed, switching alarmingly fast from outraged to dejected. He ran a hand through his loose curls, looking down at the blanket he was sitting on. Those blue eyes stared at nothingness, always contemplating something mysteriously. Sometimes he would stare off for worrying amounts of time, even, if he were sporting a particularly misty attitude that day.

"What're you thinking about?" Seamus asked curiously.

"I'm thinking I want to blow stuff up," he replied moodily.

Seamus nodded, grabbing a pack of Exploding Snap cards from his nightstand. He led the way down the stairs, Dean slumping after him. Even when he was like this, in such a grumpy state, Seamus had to fight to not stare at the way his lips stuck out and became all pouty.

"Oi maybe she just has a lot on her mind," Seamus said. He had no idea why the hell he was defending her, since she was constantly taking the object of his affections away from him. However, Dean liked her, so he had to pretend to like her as well.

"Yeah, maybe," Dean said, sounding as though he didn't believe it one bit.

Seamus tried not to smile.

They settled on the floor of the common room and he carefully removed the cards from their little box. One had to be gentle with them, for one wrong move ended the game with a very loud…well…exploding noise. Madame Pomfery had treated more than a few burn victims in her day, causing her to become resentful of the dangerous game. He dealt them gingerly and picked up his own hand, being mindful to keep it a safe distance from his face.

"Say something cool," Dean said, looking up at him expectantly.

Seamus sighed. Ever since Dean had discovered that he was fluent in Gaeilge, he had been requesting odd sayings every so often. It seemed to cheer him up, though.

In Ireland, Seamus had been nearly forced to learn the language. Well, everyone was forced to, since the language was dying, but none of the muggles were drilled constantly by their mothers. Irish wizards used the language for a great portion of their spell incantations, apparently. They weren't taught at Hogwarts like that, so he couldn't help but feel that, when he were eleven, it had been a complete waste of time and too much effort to be worth anything. However, wizards back home spoke amongst each other in Irish more so than the muggles did as well, which meant it was called into use far more often. He supposed it was a way to hold onto their heritage, as well as a way to recognize each other from the non-magic folk, that made the language so popular among them. One man clad in purple robes had walked up to him in the street, gabbling away at a speed that made it hard for him to follow properly. However, his mother had ground it into him constantly as a child, and often only spoke to him in Gaeilge as well, thus making him better with it than most people he knew. He had been able to point the wizard in the right direction for the muggle train station with only a little bemusement, and quite proudly walked away from the encounter with success.

"What do you want me to say?" Seamus asked, putting down a seven. They stared at it expectantly, but it didn't explode, so Dean played his hand as well.

"I dunno," he said, shrugging. "Anything, I guess."

"Póg mo thóin," he drawled, setting down a nine.

"What did you say?" Dean asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"I said 'it's cold out'," he replied brightly. Dean didn't see the cheeky smirk that followed, however, for he was busy setting down two fives and a newt.

"Wonder where Harry is?" Dean said casually. He lay on his side on the floor, propping himself on one elbow.

"Dunno. Why?" Seamus asked.

"Well, he was looking a bit sick the other day, and sort of miserable. Gin keeps saying he looks all sweaty all of a sudden during class, but then denies whenever someone mentions it. I wonder if he's ill or something?"

"Well, You-Know-Who is wandering around trying to kill him," Seamus pointed out. "That's probably quite a dose, don't you think?"

"I suppose," he replied, shrugging as if it were nothing. "I just feel bad for him sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah, me too. Bloke's been through a lot," he said guiltily. Including the stupid ridicule of his friends that he didn't even deserve…

He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on how much of an arse he had been last year.

They played for quite a while, the cards seeming to hold out for longer than usual. They should have been reduced to cinders by now, but they still remained stable. Whenever this happened, the game usual grew more tense as the clock ticked on…

Eventually, the portrait hole opened and Harry himself clambered in, followed closely by Ron. He did look a bit ill, since his face was rather flushed.

"Oi, where you two been?" Seamus asked, playing another card gingerly.

"Owlery," Ron answered. "Had to send a letter."

"Aw no, I just remembered I have one too," he groaned. His mother had insisted he update her on his classes and how his life was going in her last letter. He had already written his wordy response (in Gaeilge, of course), but had yet to send it. She would no doubt panic if he didn't get back to her soon, as was his mother's nature. "I better go send it, mum wants an answer back straight away or she'll natter on again about my 'growing apart' stage. I swear, the woman thinks I'm about to off myself or something. Don't blow up the cards," he grinned, to which Dean scowled half-heartedly.

"I won't."

"See you later. We better finish that star chart too for Astronomy, yeah? I'll see you at dinner."

"Oh, actually I'm meeting Ginny on the grounds for dinner," Dean said sheepishly, picking up the cards a bit less carefully than he should be.

"What?" Seamus said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

"For a picnic. But I'll meet you in the common room after, yeah?" Dean assured as he put the cards back in the box.

"Alright," Seamus replied, turning and climbing out of the portrait hole before he could let his disappointment become too obvious.

They would probably start off innocently enough, having a simple date out on the sloping lawns of the castle. But that would soon turn to cuddling, which would soon turn into kissing, which would then morph into desperate snogging. And all the while, Seamus would be sitting in the Great Hall, feeling alone amongst his friends and thinking about who he would rather be spending his time with. Dean would lose track of time, perhaps doing more explicit things with the Weasley girl than Seamus would like to imagine, going well into the night and forgetting their homework completely. Seamus would wait in the common room for him, and he would show up much too late, apologizing for his mistake. But Seamus would say it was alright, and that he hadn't been waiting. He had gotten a start on his own homework really, nothing to worry about. It would be a lie, of course, for he always waited, but it would keep him safe. Keep his heart protected.

As he walked down the empty hallway, Seamus realized he had forgotten the letter. He didn't turn back to get it.

Author's Note Again: Begging for reviews once more. And yes, I'm aware of how pathetic I am when I do so.