Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, never have and never will.

The sun shined weakly through the windows of the Great Hall, and Dean and Seamus stared mutely at the food that had magically appeared before them. They were supposed to be hungry. They both knew this. But neither of them could seem to bring a fork to his mouth, preferring instead to push the eggs and sausage around and around their plates, watching the progress with no small amount of fascination.

"So!" Seamus tried to begin heartily, and Dean looked up quickly, forcing a smile. He had to encourage his best mate because he knew that there just was no alternative. Seamus's own face brightened, and he continued. "Can you believe this?" he asked Dean, gesturing around the hall. Dean couldn't help but notice that Seamus was careful not to gesture to the place where the bodies were being carried out and moved to another location. He looked around to where his friend was pointing, and then he looked back at him with the same careful smile.

"I know," he said, well aware that any cheer in his voice was clearly unnatural. He decided not to worry about it. He forced a forkful of egg down his throat and said, "Harry actually won. I wasn't sure for a while…"

He trailed off, but Seamus nodded quickly, eager to continue the conversation.

"I know what you mean," he said. "Remember when my mum didn't believe him that You-Know … that Voldemort was back? Hard to believe now…"

He shook his head in amazement, and Dean knew with a small genuine smile that it wasn't just for Harry's accomplishment but for his own as well. It was the first time Dean could ever remember hearing Seamus say the forbidden name.

"I remember that," Dean said quietly. "But none of that matters now, right? Those are just bad memories. Now… well, it's a new world. That's what – what they all keep saying, at least." He gestured to the rest of the room with his chin, and now Seamus looked around more carefully.

A new world, he thought, and couldn't keep his eyes from travelling to the one place he'd so far managed to avoid. A shiver coursed through him, and he shook himself, reaching up quickly to pretend he was merely brushing the hair out of his eyes. But Dean's eyes clicked with understanding, and, taking one last mouthful of sausage, he put down his fork and yawned.

"I think it's time for some sleep," he said. Seamus didn't even try to hide his relief, dropping his own utensils with a clatter and shoving back from the table without another word.

The walk through the castle resembled none other they had ever taken together. Walls were blasted apart; knights in armor were missing; portraits had been torn in two, and neither Dean nor Seamus was able to say a word. They'd just begun to walk even more quickly when Seamus's footsteps suddenly slowed as they approached the Gryffindor dormitories.

"We just have to do it," Dean said softly, but he wasn't looking at Seamus, and Seamus knew that they shared the same fear. But then he looked straight ahead, and his knees went weak with relief. There, miraculously, was the Fat Lady, intact and, apparently, waiting for them.

They reached the portrait together and stood there for a moment in silence before Seamus realized that if they were going to get inside, it was up to him to get them there – he was the one with the password, after all.

"Fight," he whispered, and as the portrait swung aside to admit them, he caught the surprise on Dean's face. Deliberately ignoring it, he climbed into the common room. He was headed for the stairs when he realized that Dean had stopped and was gazing around, his eyes wide. Seamus stopped too and waited. It was clear to Seamus, as he glanced at his best mate out of the corner of his eye, that this was a room Dean had thought he'd never see again. After more silence than Seamus could reasonably handle, he cleared his throat.

"Ready to go on up to our beds now, are you?" he asked, and he didn't wait for an answer, realizing once again that if they were to go to the seventh year dormitories, he would have to be the one to lead the way. Shaking off the sinking sensation that Dean no longer belonged here – that the Carrows and Snape had gotten their way at last – he moved to the staircase.

But the moment they entered the room, they stopped short. Dean's gasp was almost silent, but Seamus heard it, and he stepped closer to his friend as they came face to face with Ginny Weasley. She was curled in an armchair at the end of what was meant to be—and now obviously was – Harry's bed.

"Sor – sorry," Seamus whispered, but Ginny merely nodded wearily. Her eyes were dull, and suddenly, Dean remembered one of the bodies he'd tried not to see in the Great Hall.

"I'm sorry, too" he whispered, but this time, Ginny's eyes seemed to focus for a moment, and she looked at Dean, the anguish in her eyes suddenly clear. She nodded slowly, and he did, too, and then he turned and shoved Seamus from the room.

"She needs to be alone," he mumbled, and Seamus didn't ask how he knew. That much was clear. What wasn't quite so obvious was where they could go now.

They paused at the sixth year's dormitory, but voices inside kept them moving. The same happened at the fifth and fourth as well. As they approached the third, certain that they'd found a haven at last, the sounds of sobbing reached their ears, and Seamus paled and swallowed hard. Dean looked at him curiously, and he mouthed, "Weasley," walking even faster. Dean didn't bother to ask how he knew, simply matched his pace, grief settling like a pit in his stomach.

Finally, Seamus stopped. Dean looked up with a start as he realized that they were standing before the door of their first year dormitory.

"None of them would still be here," Seamus explained almost desperately, but Dean merely nodded and pushed the door open. As he entered the room, he almost felt as if a veil had lifted, as if they had walked into a simpler time.

He threw himself onto his old bed, pushing the hangings aside as he'd done so many years ago, and Seamus followed suit, albeit much more slowly. For a moment, the two friends merely sat on the edges of beds that were once theirs, and then Dean said, almost to himself, "I wonder – I wonder how Harry got in here or even knew where to go…"

When he looked up, Seamus was staring at him questioningly, so he tried to explain.

"I had no idea what the password was or where those seventh year dormitories were."

He shook his head in confusion, but then he looked up at Seamus, and his brow creased.

"Shay? Are you all right?"

But Seamus had his lips pressed tightly together even as he nodded quickly. Dean stared at him for a moment , and Seamus forced himself to take a deep breath before saying tightly, "You should have known these things."

Dean was even more confused now. "Yeah, but… I wasn't here. Of course I wouldn't know…"

But now he had to stop again. Seamus's breathing had changed, and he wasn't looking at Dean anymore. He was staring around the dormitory, and when he realized that Dean had stopped talking, he suddenly looked at him again. His voice was unnaturally strained when he said, "Do you remember the first time we actually talked to each other? It was in this room seven years ago. Harry and Ron were already mates, somehow, and there were also you, me, and Nev. But somehow, it was like I always knew we were supposed to be friends or something."

Seamus shook his head then, rubbing a hand furiously over his eyes. "I sound like a bloody girl, I know, but even back then, I knew you would always be my best mate. And this year – this year without you, it was like I was missing a part of myself or something, and I didn't even know why I was here half the time. I should have been with you. I should never have let you just go off on the run on your own. Best mates don't – they just don't do that, but I was too – too scared."

He swallowed hard but glared at Dean through glistening eyes as though daring him to agree. Dean stared at him in shock.

"Shay," he said slowly, "I would never have asked you to come with me. I wouldn't have been able to run, I don't think, if I knew you were in danger too because of me. One of the only things that kept me going was knowing that you were safe here…" He stopped and sighed. "Well, I thought you were safe here, but that was enough. I knew I'd get back here eventually, and we'd fight together. And we did. And we made it, Shay. We're here together now, right?"

But Seamus shook his head and stared at his feet. "I worried every day," he whispered, his voice shaking. "It was horrible not knowing if you were alive or …" He couldn't say the word. Not now when it had become too much of a reality in the past few hours. But Dean knew. Slowly, he pushed himself off his bed and crossed the room to sit beside his friend.

For a moment, they simply sat there, staring straight ahead, and then Seamus said, so quietly Dean almost missed it, "I'm sorry."

Dean shook his head. "There's nothing to be sorry for," he said firmly as he continued to watch the wall.

Seamus drew in a breath to argue, but it hitched in his throat, and suddenly, he was hunching forward and burying his face in his hands. He didn't know how long he was sitting there like that when Dean put a cautious arm across his shoulders. Seamus knew he could feel his trembling, but for some reason, he just didn't care. And after a few minutes, when he finally sat up and drew a hand across his eyes, Dean simply looked away, not saying a word about how much more of a bloody girl he was being right then.

"How'd you know that was a Weasley?" Dean suddenly asked. He patted Seamus on the shoulder as he removed his arm and flopped backward across the bed, letting out a huge yawn. Seamus shrugged as he, too, flopped backwards and slung his arm across his eyes.

"Dunno," he admitted, "but think about it. Who else would be in Gryffindor now, crying like – like that? You saw F – Fred…" he swallowed hard again. Fred Weasley… dead. It just didn't seem possible. Dean shook his own head in disbelief.

"You're right," he conceded, his voice low, but then he sighed. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? I never would have thought Fred or George would've let themselves get hurt…"

Seamus sighed, too. "I know," he said, "but I heard that Fred was joking around with Percy, and then this wall fell or something… he never saw it coming."

Dean shuddered. "He might've been one of the lucky ones then," he muttered darkly, but when Seamus looked up questioningly, he simply shook his head. "It's nothing," he said and was grateful that though he looked skeptical, Seamus let it go.

Seamus rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I should get into my own bed," he murmured drowsily. "I don't think I can keep my eyes open another minute…"

Dean smiled and pushed himself to his feet. "Don't worry about it," he said, shoving his friend's legs over so he was fully on the bed. "I'll move."

He pulled out his wand and drew the curtains. He'd just extinguished the lights when a strangled voice muttered, "No, don't…"

Startled, Dean quickly lit the room again and turned back to where his friend's eyes were suddenly wide open. Seamus's face was scarlet, and he quickly looked away as he mumbled, "It's just… the Carrows. They'd come in sometimes – at night – and …" He couldn't say anymore, and he was relieved when Dean didn't ask another question, simply walked over and asked, "Hangings open or closed?"

"Closed," Seamus whispered, and Dean obligingly shut them. Once he was enclosed, Seamus shoved his face into his pillow, his face still hot. Would there ever be any way to explain all of this to Dean? And Dean still hadn't told him anything about his year on the run. Seamus rolled over and tried to relax. He would. They had time.

Dean slipped into his own bed, pulling the curtains shut behind him. He was glad to be hidden by the hangings because he couldn't imagine how his face must look. He'd known, of course, that things had been bad at Hogwarts this past year, but he'd never quite imagined how Seamus might have been suffering. And now he wasn't sure he wanted to. But – at least Seamus hadn't asked him anything about his own year. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He was safe now. He didn't have to talk about it – ever. He would just get over it. He had time.

A/N: Well, I've started a new one at last! And it's mostly thanks to little0bird for help beyond measure. This will find a path that occasionally matches her story, First Day, but it will focus on Seamus and Dean. As far as a minor inconsistency, I do know that JKR implied that the boys were in their same dormitory every year, but for the sake of this story, I decided that they moved every year. Please read and review!