This was going to be the year. Every other year, Seamus had backed out at the last second, mostly out of fear, but this year was going to be different.
Why?
Because this year, Dean had finally gotten over his heartbreak. He'd gone out on a couple of dates, seen both blokes and birds, and even taken some back to their flat. Seamus heard 'em a few times and had just smiled, then coyly mentioned it to his flatemate the next morning. Seems that Dean was well and done with Ginny now that she'd gone and married famous Harry Potter and had three grown kids with him, too. But, as Seamus could tell, there was a part of the man that would always love her, and that same part would never forget her.
In spite of his old flame and new ones, Seamus was certain that this was going to be the year that he told Dean Thomas he loved him. Oh, it had been many years in the making, dating back to their days at Hogwarts. It was only recently, however, that he had come up with his plan to tell Dean. Quite simply, he was going to kiss the man breathlessly as soon as the clock stuck midnight, and then smile and say, "You know, you'd look good in my bed," or something of the sorts. That was bound to work, right? Seamus was a mastermind when it came to winning the hearts of people; never mind that he hadn't been with anyone in almost a decade.
New Year's Eve, 2025, it was just the two of them. Neither of the two men were much up for parties anymore, and neither of them had families to ring in the new year. Sure, Seamus spent Christmas with his sister, and Dean with his mum and dad, but it just wasn't cool for a single man to spend New Year's with his family. So there they were, alone, sipping champagne in their nightclothes. They had the telly on to some countdown of sorts, with a bunch of Muggle celebrities entertaining all of Britain for the night. It was frightfully boring, but better than the two of them talking.
"All right, that was David Bowie performing his decades-old classic Changes."
"God, Bowie's gotten old," remarked Dean.
"Who the hell is Bowie?" Seamus said as he took another sip of champagne. Perhaps he was a bit drunk.
"Who is Bowie? Are you mad? He's probably the best musical genius of our time!"
Seamus shrugged and laid his head on his best friend's shoulder. "You sound really pretty when you're angry." Okay, maybe he was more than a bit drunk. But that tended to happen to a person when they've been drinking for almost seven hours.
"I'm not angry," said Dean, looking at anywhere but Seamus. "And you're drunk."
"Way to state the obvious," Seamus said though a wide grin.
"And it's almost time to begin the countdown! George, do you think you could start us off?"
"Certainly, Michelle."
"10!"