The Difference Between Dreams and Reality

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By: plus2minus1brilliance

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Chapter One - Storytelling

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Somewhere in Ireland, there is a small, two-story house near the edge of a small rural town. On the second story, at the very corner, there is a darkened window with the blinds shut. Beyond this window is a rather comfortable room with tan carpets and walls covered in posters. What was interesting about the posters was that some of them moved, though at the moment, most of the figures were slumped over, snoring.

Littering the floor were most of the contents of the room - clothes, books, odds and ends. Shoved in one corner was an open trunk, empty save for two pairs of mismatched socks and a Hawaiian-style shirt.

Against the wall across from the window was a twin bed, piled high with blankets and soft pillows. And beneath this mound of linens, barely visible in the soft gray light of dawn, was a sandy-haired boy, tossing and turning in the grips of a dream.

This boy's name is Seamus Finnigan. He is sixteen years old, of average height, slightly above average build, quite pale, with gray-green eyes, and the aforementioned sandy-blond hair.

Currently, the bright-blue numbers of the alarm clock that sat on his bedside table read 6:00 AM. In just a few hours, Seamus would have to wake up, because he had a lot to do before leaving to catch the eleven o'clock train to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he would be beginning his sixth year. He had been looking forward to his sixth year since his second - he'd been sure that it would be his greatest. And now that he knew he wouldn't be taking Potions, it was looking even better.

Seamus still hadn't a clue what he would like to do once he was done with school, but from day one of it, he knew it would never include Potions.

A couple of pillows tumbled to the floor as Seamus turned back and forth. His face was set in a look of discomfort, and low moans and undecipherable mutterings periodically broke the silence of early morning. Yet still he slept on, not able to break from his subconscious and the visions that seemed to plague him.

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When his alarm went off at eight o'clock, Seamus tried his very best to just ignore it. He'd been enjoying the dream he'd been having, although with each second his alarm blared on, it was becoming increasingly hard to remember any of it. But there had been…dancing?

With a truly irritated groan, Seamus unearthed himself from beneath his blankets and sat up on his knees, giving the alarm clock a death glare. The alarm clock just sat there, beeping shrilly.

"Smug bastard," Seamus growled sleepily at it, finally reaching over to turn it off.

Pushing himself off the bed and further untangling himself from his linens was requiring much more effort than usual this morning. Being exhausted will do that to you, and as Seamus had stayed up until five in the morning, he was just that. It hadn't really been intentional, of course, but how was he supposed to just leave in the middle of a Sherlock Holmes movie marathon?

Seamus just stood for a few minutes with his eyes closed, wanting nothing more than a few extra hours sleep. It seemed quite unfair to him that he could do all sorts of amazing spells, but wasn't able to just pause time. Stupid laws for the good of human-kind. Mustering whatever strength he could find, Seamus shuffled off to the bathroom for a nice, warm shower.

Not much was better, in Seamus's mind, than a warm shower.

As he stood under the spray, he let his mind wander. This year was going to be the best, he could just feel it - even if it wasn't getting off the absolute best start. He'd done well enough on his O.W.L.s that the only subjects he couldn't take this year were Potions (like he cared) and History of Magic (so he'd move his nap from the classroom to his own bed). That meant that he still had a lot of options open for him for the future. He just hoped all his friends made it into all the same classes.

Well, he knew Dean had - they'd kept in touch over the summer, as always, being that they were the bestest best friends ever. Some would say freakishly so. Dean joked that they'd either end up married to each other, or completely hating each other. Seamus would laugh, and shake his head, and silently hope that neither came to pass. He loved Dean, sure, and so didn't ever want their friendship to end, but there was no way he would ever want to be romantically involved with Dean.

Romantically involved…he'd not really dated anyone at Hogwarts. Once, in fifth year, he'd gone to Hogsmeade with Susan Bones, and he'd attended the Yule Ball with Lavender Brown in fourth year, but he didn't really get on with either of them. He hadn't really gotten on with any of the girls. Dean suggested that Seamus might be homosexual. Seamus just shrugged - he hadn't gotten on with any of the boys, either, had he?

About forty minutes later, he was startled out of his stupor by the sound of pounding on the door. He looked down at himself, realizing he was covered in soap and was holding onto a loofa, having apparently done his bathing on autopilot.

"I'll be out in a minute!" he called to his mother, who he knew was the one at the door. His showers often went longer than she thought they should.

Pushing aside all thoughts, except those about what he intended to wear today, Seamus quickly finished up. Twenty minutes later had him fully cleaned, dried, dressed, and sat at the breakfast table.

He and his father started up a conversation about cell phones, and how, in the Muggle world, they were fast becoming a fad. Seamus was quite fond of the things Muggles came up with, being half-Muggle himself. He always found the differences between the two worlds to be quite fascinating. His mother, however, was always less then thrilled, and he could hear her half-exasperated mutterings as she cooked their breakfast with magic.

"So," Mrs. Finnigan cut in, setting a plate of waffles on the table, "are you packed?"

Seamus smiled sheepishly up at her. "Well, I meant to be, really…"

"I told you to do it yesterday!" Mrs. Finnigan chided.

"Come now, dear, you know he always leaves it for the last minute. Wouldn't want to break a tradition, after all," Mr. Finnigan supplied, smiling pleasantly at his wife.

Mrs. Finnigan sent a glare his way as she set a plate of bacon next to the waffles, then turned it on her son.

"I would have hoped you had more responsibility in you by now," she said.

Seamus fought the urge to roll his eyes - no sense in making his mother more aggravated with him. "I don't really see it as a problem with responsibility. I see it more as a problem with memory, and that's a genetic thing, right? Probably get it from Da."

There. He'd blamed it on his Muggle side, which, while unfortunately getting his father in trouble, usually got him off the hook with these sorts of things. Mrs. Finnigan just sighed.

"Just don't forget anything in your rush, or you'll have to go without it until you come home again," she warned.

He smiled brightly at her and dug into his waffles and bacon. As he chewed, he couldn't help but think there was something really familiar about syrup…or maybe it was jam he was thinking of? Shaking his head, he just chalked it up to the fact that his mother often made him waffles (it being his favorite breakfast food), and so he just used a lot of syrup.

It took him approximately half an hour to pack all his belongings into his trunk, and another ten to just double check the house for anything he'd forgotten. By time he'd got his trunk to the front door, it was a quarter after ten in the morning, and his mother was yelling at him that he was going to be late, and that if he missed the train, he'd just have to wait for the one back from Christmas break.

Seamus took the Knight Bus to King's Cross Station, it being the fastest way to get there that didn't involve Apparation. His mother still insisted on going with him, saying it was a mother's right to see her son off to school. As the bus pulled to a stop in front of them, Stan Shunpike hopped down, smiled broadly, and helped get Seamus' trunk on board. Stan never bothered with his speech when it was a returning Hogwarts student - they knew how things worked.

Seamus hugged his father goodbye, promising to "be good, and learn a lot." He was thankful his father was never more specific, or he might have had a harder time making the promise. But, true to his word, Seamus was always good at something, and always learned a lot, even if it wasn't always school-related.

Getting on the bus, Seamus recognized some students from other various years. He nodded to a few of them as he took a seat next to his mother, and settled in for the often unsettling ride on the Knight Bus.

They arrived at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with only ten minutes to spare. Mrs. Finnigan helped her son lift his trunk onto the train, and then spent a good five minutes hugging and kissing him goodbye. Luckily for Seamus, the whistle blew, and his mother was forced to let him go.

"You behave!" she finally said, as he leaned out the window for a final wave.

"I will," Seamus replied, then thought, In a manner befitting a sixteen year-old boy, that is. "I love you!"

And with that, the train began it's long journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Seamus could barely contain his joy, and smiled the whole time as he searched for whichever compartment his best friend was in.

As he walked along the corridor, he passed several people he knew, giving each of them a cheery wave. And then, someone walking towards him caused him to stop. Seamus stared at Ron Weasley, a frown forming on his lips. As with the syrup earlier, he had a feeling of familiarity with Ron that didn't seem usual.

"Oh, hey, Seamus," Ron said, giving the shorter boy a smile.

Seamus blinked and forced his own smile back onto his face. "Hello," he said. It felt awkward, and he knew he should have more to say than that, but suddenly, all coherency decided to leave him.

"Good holiday, then?" Ron asked.

A nod was all Seamus could manage as he looked into Ron's smiling face.

"Right, well I'd better get going. I've got to patrol, you know, Prefect duties and all," Ron said.

"Oh, yes, Prefect. You make a good one, you know, much better than Percy. He was kind of lame, and you're very not lame, so you make a better Prefect that he did."

Great, now he was babbling.

"Er, yeah…Thanks, I think…" Ron nodded goodbye to Seamus and proceeded up the corridor.

Seamus stared after him for a bit, wondering what the hell had just happened there. He'd never babbled stupidly around the redhead before. What had changed?

"What are you staring at?" came a familiar voice from beside him.

Turning, Seamus came face to face with Dean Thomas, who gave him a very questioning look. "Oh, hey," Seamus said, hoping to avoid the question.

"Hey," Dean replied, not dropping the look.

"Have a good trip over?"

"Not bad."

The look still held.

"Got a good compartment?"

"Four down from here."

The look grew sharper.

"Oh, yeah, that is a good one. Not that there are any bad compartments, of course. They do keep this train in good shape, don't they? Magic is good for that sort of thing. I mean, if it was a Muggle train, it'd take a lot more work for a lot less in the way of results, you know? So it's good that it's a magical train, so it can be kept in the sort of shape it deserves to be in, for all the hard work it does. Don't you think?"

Dean quirked an eyebrow.

Seamus smiled innocently back.

Dean sighed. "Fine, I'll drop it. Let's get back to the compartment."

"Well, if you insist," Seamus said, leading the way.

It wasn't that Seamus didn't think Dean would understand, it was more that he knew Dean would understand a bit too well. And Seamus didn't think that was very fair, considering he himself didn't understand at all.

Seamus knew it would appear that he liked Ron, but that was just ridiculous. He had never thought of the taller boy as anything more than a friend, so it was therefore absurd to think he suddenly had a crush Ron. Right?

But then why had he babbled? Why had he felt so unsure and awkward? And what was the connection with syrup?

"I'm not going to be able to forget about your odd staring if you keep on doing it, you know," Dean said casually as they took their seats in the compartment.

Seamus felt himself blush a little bit. "Sorry, I'm just trying to remember something."

"What sort of something?"

"I'm not really sure, actually," Seamus admitted. It was true - the only clue he had was syrup, after all, and that could mean any number of things.

"You don't even know what you're trying to remember?" Dean asked, a little incredulous.

"I guess not."

"In that case, the best thing to do is to just forget about it. Only then will you be able to remember it."

Seamus blinked at his best friend, then smiled a little. "Such wisdom from one so young," he mocked.

"Mock if you wish, but it's good advice."

"Yeah, I know…but it's hard to stop thinking about it, because I think it's kind of important."

"Then I'll just have to distract you! How about a story?"

"Oh yes! You can continue that one about the Monkey King you were telling me last week!"

And so Dean continued on with his Monkey King story, Seamus cutting in periodically with exclamations or suggestions. And it worked - by time the lunch trolley came around, Seamus had completely forgotten that he was trying to remember something.

After story time, the boys slipped into a conversation about football versus Quidditch (a popular conversation with them, since Dean was a huge football fan, and Seamus a huge Quidditch fan, although both enjoyed both games). As night fell, they slipped into silence, and Seamus found himself nodding off.

Seamus jerked awake suddenly and scanned his surroundings. Dean was sitting across from him, and was staring at him contemplatively.

"Um…how long was I asleep?"

"About forty minutes."

"Oh…sorry." Seamus sat up from where he had slumped down in his seat, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Was up late last night…or, this morning…You know what I mean."

"Sherlock Holmes marathon?"

Seamus just nodded, and silence returned once more. Dean picked up his sketch book, which had been sitting beside him and continued working on whatever it was he was drawing. Seamus frowned. Why had Dean been staring at him? He was afraid to ask.

He'd had the dream again…the same one from that morning. And this time, he could remember more of it. There had been dancing. There had also been a sticky substance that Seamus now thought was honey, not syrup. And there had been Ron.

A groan escaped Seamus' lips, and he begged his brain not to remember anything more.

"You were muttering in your sleep," Dean said conversationally. "Sounded like an interesting dream - I caught the words 'honey', 'lick', and 'harder'."

Seamus groaned louder. "I don't want to talk about it," he said firmly.

"Oh, come on! I tell you about all my dirty dreams," Dean pleaded.

"Yes, but I never ask you to!" Seamus countered.

"I've never heard you complain."

"Well, you're a good storyteller, and I enjoy a good story."

Seamus crossed his arms defiantly. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Well, as a storyteller, I need material, and where better to get it from then my best friend, who agreed with me to never have secrets between us?"

"That's not fair! It's just a dream! I don't even remember most of it! It's not like it was something that actually happened!" Seamus practically yelled, his arms now waving about dramatically.

"Exactly, it's just a dream, nothing serious. It didn't actually happen, and it doesn't mean a thing. Right?"

Seamus hated that Dean always seemed to have an answer for everything Seamus threw out. Always, Dean seemed to know exactly what to say to get Seamus to give in. It was really annoying.

And so, Seamus pouted.

"Shay, I thought we agreed that's cheating," Dean said, crossing his own arms now.

"No, you said it was cheating. I say it's my secret weapon," Seamus replied, a bit of smugness added to his overall pouty tone. His bottom lip protruded out just a little further.

"Well it's not going to work this time! Pout all you want, I will hear this dream of yours. Even if it takes weeks!" Dean proclaimed. Then he picked up his sketch book once more and went on sketching.

Seamus continued to pout at his best friend for a few more seconds, and then scooted over to stare out the window. The same dream twice in one day…was that normal? Especially considering the subject matter…Well, at least it explained why he was so awkward around Ron earlier. Was Dean right when he said that it didn't mean anything?

Seamus hoped so, because he didn't think he could go through the whole year thinking those sorts of thoughts about a friend. Especially when that friend was busy thinking those sorts of thoughts about another friend, who happened to be female. Everyone knew Ron and Hermione had crushes on each other, even if they refused to admit it.

As the train began to slow down, Seamus decided that that was that then. He didn't have a crush on Ron; his brain was just trying to get back at him for rotting it with hours of television and then depriving it of rest.

…Right?

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Author's Note: Wow. I have been trying to rewrite this story for over three years. I've started chapter one at least a dozen times, and have never been able to complete any of them. Obviously, until now. If you're coming here from Significant Dreaming, I really hope you like this version better. I know I do!

Actually, Significant Dreaming is a rewrite, as well. The first version actually got up to chapter five before I realized just how much it sucked.

I promise, this is the last version, no matter what I may think a few chapters from now.

A huge thank you to all readers and reviewers in advance. Reviews brighten my day like nothing else can (except maybe a bit of boy/boy action)!

I also want to apologize in advance. I am terrible at updating regularly, because I am very distractable, and have many other fandoms I love and write in. But never give up on me, because, as I think this fic shows, I always update eventually.

Finally, I'd just like to do a small plug for a fic I am co-authoring with Akiko, Keeper of Sheep. It's a Power Rangers fic, entitled Chaos Theory, and it's under the penname Plus2Brilliance. It's a really good read, I promise, even you're not a huge fan of Power Rangers!