Chapter 2: Second Year
"About time you got here!"
Seamus crashed bodily into Dean, flinging himself on top of his friend and wrapping him in what was perhaps a bit of an excessive embrace. He didn't care. If anything, the thoughts that arose were of excitement that Dean had finally arrived at Kings Cross and amusement at the heavy grunt that he heaved as Seamus knocked the wind out of him. Luckily – or perhaps unluckily, Seamus wasn't sure, because it would have been funny otherwise – Dean managed to retain his balance after a brief stumble, holding them both up.
When he did right himself, it was to meet Seamus' gaze with a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Seam, how's it -?"
"You know the train is about to leave any second now, like?" Seamus interrupted him, before glancing over his friend's shoulder. He raised a hand to wave at the woman who stood behind Dean, standing alongside her son's trunk with a fond smile upon her face. "Hi, Mrs Thomas."
Mrs Thomas raised her hand to wave in a reply greeting. "Hello, Seamus. It's lovely to see you again."
"Yeah, you too." Seamus nodded, beaming up at her. He liked Mrs Thomas, had liked her as soon as he'd met her the one and only time he'd visited Dean over the summer break. She wasn't a small woman, was tall and the spitting image of Dean, from her warm, dark eyes to her perfectly symmetrical smile and stunningly white teeth beneath. She was also incredibly kind, calm and quietly spoken. Basically, if Seamus were to consider Dean to grow up into a woman, thirty years down the track it would be his mum he'd see. Which… might have been a strange thing for him to think but it was true nonetheless.
"Is the train really about to leave?" Mrs Thomas asked, glancing down at the delicate gold watch on her wrist before raising her gaze towards Seamus once more. "I thought it left at eleven o'clock."
"Yeah, it does," Seamus said.
"Seam, it's only ten forty-five," Dean laughed. "We've still got ages."
Seamus turned back to him with a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but if you leave it till the last minute, like, then you won't get a proper seat. Maybe Ron and Harry and Neville and all of them have already got a cabin but you never can be too sure. Especially not when it comes to Weasley, like. He's probably not even here yet."
"Is Ron's partial to being late?" Mrs Thomas asked with a widening of her smile. Somehow she made her question seem not harsh, demeaning or patronising in the slightest.
"Ron just tends to sleep in a bit," Dean explained.
"Always," Seamus emphasised, shaking his head sagely. "We had to drag him out of his bed more than once last year, didn't we, Dean?"
Dean nodded, smirking slightly. "It's not like it's a bad thing, though, sleeping in. Not everyone wakes up exactly on seven o'clock every morning like you do."
"Well, it's wasting the morning if you don't, like. Besides, it's not like I could sleep in if I tried."
"Then that's sort of the same thing as Ron not being able to wake up earlier, isn't it?"
"How is that the same thing, exactly?"
"I mean he's not doing it on purpose."
"What, so you reckon sleeping for more than twelve hours every night is supposed to be normal?"
Before Dean could reply, Mrs Thomas interrupted them. "I'm sure it's not a problem, but it's a good thing he has both of you to make sure he isn't late for his classes." She spared a smile for Seamus that seemed to request one in return. Seamus easily obliged as she turned back to Dean. Stepping forwards, she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek. Dean grimaced slightly but didn't pull away as Seamus had done with his own mum not ten minutes before.
When she released him, it was to turn him around and place both hands on his shoulders. "But maybe Seamus is right. You don't want to miss getting a seat."
Dean shrugged. "I don't mind sharing a cabin with someone else."
"Even first years?" Seamus asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dean spared him a roll of his eyes that wasn't quite as disgruntled as he likely intended it to be. "You know, we were first years just last year. They're not that much younger than us."
"Still, younger is annoying, like. I've got heaps of younger cousins. All of them are annoying."
Mrs Thomas chuckled quietly. It was almost exactly the same laugh as Dean's to the point that if it hadn't been such a nice laugh it would have been unnerving. "Well, then, I won't keep you." Then she patted Dean's shoulder and turned him around, dragging his trunk towards him to urge him on his away.
Dean spared a moment to give his own farewell in return, promising that yes, he'd do his homework, no, he wouldn't get into trouble and yes, he'd write every week. Then he followed Seamus as he led the way towards the train, bypassing Seamus' trunk that Seamus had momentarily abandoned to launch himself at Dean moments before.
Seamus was already spilling forth every thought that rose in his mind before they'd even climbed from the platform, pausing only briefly for Dean to wave goodbye to Mrs Thomas. Seamus spared an even briefer wave to his own distracted parents a sea of people away. Then they were aboard and trundling along the narrow hallway within.
Seamus and Dean had exchanged letters over the holidays. Of course they had; Seamus didn't think he could go the entire holidays without knowing what his best friend was doing. He'd never had a friend like Dean before. In his hometown a whole country and St. George's Channel away, he'd had friends and more cousins than he cared to count, not to mention an older brother that, though he loved him more than anyone else in the world, was a full ten years older and so more of an adult than a fellow kid. Yet all of those potential and actual friends – most of whom were home-schooled in the more traditional pureblood manner –weren't quite as close as he and Dean had become in just a year.
It had been weeks since they'd met up, and Seamus found the time and distance thoroughly dissatisfying. According to his mum, the holidays were family time that he was supposed to spend with family. A very large, very loud and very opinionated family that though Seamus did love grew very tiresome after weeks of overexposure. Unfortunately, when Seamus' mum put her foot down there was no getting around her; she was as stubborn as a mule knee-deep in mud. He'd only managed to visit Dean in London the once and only because his older cousin Caitlin had been visiting the city so he travelled alongside her. Dean hadn't been able to come back as he would have had to make the trip himself, and by Muggle ferry or plane at that. Apparently his mum and stepdad didn't feel comfortable with that.
Seamus could understand that. Really, he could. It didn't stop him from grumbling about it, though.
So quite without his consent yet entirely satisfactorily, Seamus found himself talking Dean's ear off. Dean himself wasn't necessarily a quite person but even Seamus realised in the midst of his own talking that he would have struggled to get a word in edgewise for how much he was talking.
"… and Aimee's dead awful at quidditch, like – she's more of the book kind of person, you know? – but me mam said that if me and Connor wanted to play that we had to take her with us." Seamus wrinkled his nose. "It wasn't so bad, I guess. We just put her in Keeper and she seemed happy enough, though I don't know how she managed to sit on her broom and read a book at the same time, like."
Dean snickered. "She must be pretty talented then."
"Hm. In a way, like. That, or she's crazy. Who would want to read over playing quidditch?"
Dean gave a non-committal shrug, but Seamus knew that in spite of that he was of a like mind. Though essentially Muggleborn – and possibly entirely as Dean didn't know for sure – and never having heard quidditch before, he seemed to have taken a liking to the sport since he'd started at Hogwarts. Before that he'd apparently been more interested in Muggle football, which, though Seamus was familiar with from his own father, was hardly of the same strain as quidditch.
Before he could continue, however, Dean paused in step and made a gesture to the cabin at there side. "Here."
Seamus glanced in the direction he pointed and immediately adopted a smile as he stepped up to the cabin and slid open the door. Within, Neville and Hermione turned towards him with curiosity that faded into welcome, alongside –
"Who are you?" Seamus asked curiously, blinking down at the plain-faced, blonde-haired girl at Hermione's side. The girl's eyes widened slightly before a slightly amused smile grew upon her lips.
Before she could get a word in, however, Hermione was speaking up with an exasperated sigh. "This is Hannah, Seamus. She's in our year, in Hufflepuff. Surely you remember her."
"Really? She's in our year?" Seamus turned back to the girl – to Hannah – and slowly nodded. "Oh, right. Yeah, I guess you do look familiar, like. Sorry, I don't think I've ever actually spoken to you before."
"That's fine," Hannah said with a shrug. "It happens. I think I've just got one of those forgetful faces, you know?" The way she said it made it sound as though she'd learned the words by rote, having said them before even if they did seem too mature for her.
Seamus shook his head. "Not really. At least, I don't think so, like. I'm just stupid like that." He flashed Hannah a slightly rueful grin which only widened her own smile. "Still, better that you're in our year than being a first year. Although... well, I guess even if you were that's cool too, like. No harm in first years."
As Hannah nodded, Dean bustled into the cabin after Seamus with a grunt. "Weren't you just complaining about first year two seconds ago?"
"Maybe. I guess they're not all that bad, though." Seamus shrugged once more, heaving his trunk to stow overhead before taking the seat next to Hannah. Really, he didn't have all that much of a problem with first years. It was more that he was simply running his mouth, he knew. His dad always said he had his mum's gift of the gab.
"Well, you changed your mind quickly," Dean said, plopping down across from him after he wedged his own trunk above himself before turning towards Hermione. "Where's Harry and Ron, by the way?"
Hermione only shrugged, unconcerned. "Probably just late. Ron's kind of like that."
"We know," Seamus and Dean said in synchrony. They exchanged a grin before each settling themselves back into their seats to share stories of the summer.
The first duelling club was several weeks into term. Personally, Seamus couldn't have been happier for the fact. It was exciting, and sure, Lockhart was an absolute tosser, but if he could do even some of what he'd said he apparently could in his books then Seamus was dying to see it.
His housemates were too, if for somewhat different reasons.
"He's an absolute idiot," Ron muttered as they made their way down to the Great Hall for the first meeting alongside most of the rest of Gryffindor house. "I doubt he even knows which end of his wand he's supposed to hold."
"I doubt he actually even did most of the stuff that he says he has," Harry added from Seamus' side
Ron nodded his agreement. "Yeah. Absolute idiot."
Seamus couldn't help but agree with the sentiment, though he did sort of admire the possibility of anyone pursuing acts of greatness. Even so, his mouth was running away from him before he could help himself. "An idiot like someone in particular who drove their dad's flying car into the Whomping Willow, like?"
Both Ron and Harry turned a scowl of varying degrees of intensity onto Seamus, who only grinned in response. It was fun prodding his dorm-mates, even if he had grown tired of doing so with any sincerity over the past weeks. Ron reached around Harry and shoved Seamus' shoulder for extra measure. "Will you let it go already?"
Seamus shook his head. There was no way he was going to let either of them forget what both had admitted to being their own foolishness. He glanced at Dean who was fighting to contain his own grin; at least he had one comrade in arms for his teasing. Or two, really, though Hermione was less open about it and agreed with him less to tease and more to chide. The roll of her eyes but slight nod of her head on Ron's other side spoke for her.
Stepping into the Great Hall, they all paused momentarily. The four tables had been shunted to the walls, cleared into an open arena that countless students were already milling around in. Lockhart, strutting around like a peacock in formal duelling robes, was talking expansively to a bunch of fifth year girls who looked entirely in his thrall. Though Seamus could admit that he looked rather dashing in the robes, he shook his head alongside his friends' snorts and mutters as the professor shone a sparkling grin onto the wide-eyed girls before turning and flouncing away. He really was a tosser.
Still, at least he was better than Snape across the room. The Potions professor seemed to be hanging suspended in a dark cloud of foreboding, scowling and glaring at any and all who looked at him sideways. Seamus considered he'd prefer any open and enthusiastic airhead to the silent and looming wraith that was Snape. He made sure to subtly urge his friends away from the scowling professor, though they didn't need all that much prompting.
Stopping along one of the walls just as Lockhart began to herd the entirety of the attending students into a like-minded position, Seamus turned to Dean at his side. "So, like, how is this duelling thing supposed to work? Is Lockhart going to give a demonstration or what?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe. Though since it's Lockhart he'll probably just prance around for a bit and wave his wand around without actually casting."
Seamus snickered. "True. I wonder if he can do all the stuff he says he's done?"
"Unlikely. With how often he leaves us to it in class I doubt he when knows how to cast a Levitation Charm."
"Well, he does have that book on how he faced those trolls, like, and you know what Ron always says about Levitation Charms and trolls."
"Have you read the book?"
Seamus snorted. "No. 'Course not. Have you?"
Dean snorted in turn. "What do you take me for?"
Their discussion was cut short by Lockhart flouncing into the centre of the room, robes fluttering behind him like a windswept cape. He sparkled his smile around at them in a beaming sweep that made Seamus cringe for its brightness. Sure, he could admire another wizard who looked like they'd stepped from a storybook, perfect hair and glowing countenance and all, but Lockhart really was ridiculous.
"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works."
He paused for a second round of smiling to the returning smiles of many of the girls and the muffled snorts and eye rolls from Seamus and most of the boys. Seamus and Dean exchanged another glance as he continued and launched himself into action.
What followed must to have been one of the most amusing and embarrassing displays that Seamus had ever seen. Lockhart duelled Snape. In a demonstration, he'd called it, but when he'd actually duelled him… if Seamus had cause to doubt Lockhart's integrity before, after seeing that he was almost certain that the Defence professor was full of shit.
To the sound of gasps from many of the students as Snape blasted Lockhart across the room, Seamus turned his wide eyes towards Dean. "He's absolutely pathetic, like."
Dean smirked, drawing his gaze from where Lockhart was clambering with an attempt at grace to his feet. He didn't manage quite so well as his peacock strutting of minutes before. "Do you think he'll try again?"
"He surely couldn't not." Seamus shook his head, glancing back to Lockhart. "That was just embarrassing. Like, he'll have to try to make up for it, surely."
Lockhart didn't. He didn't try. Seamus wondered if he was simply that useless that he wouldn't try again and risk failure or if he believed his own words and thought that a 'practical approach' would be better for the students to learn. Learn. Ha.
Instead, they were told to divide into pairs and practice duelling for themselves. Seamus immediately turned towards Dean, who looked expectantly to him in turn, but before they could even voice their requests at partnership Lockhart was sweeping around the room and pairing them up himself. Seamus found himself with Ron while Dean was lobbed in with a kid called Wayne Hopkins from Hufflepuff that Seamus had only met because he was friends with Hannah.
Seamus scowled at Lockhart's back as he drew away. "Well, this sucks."
Dean nodded in grumbling agreement, a sentiment that appeared to be mirrored not only him but Harry – who, the poor sod, was paired with Malfoy – and Hermione, who looked thoroughly disconcerted to be shunted towards the big Slytherin girl who Seamus was pretty sure was called Bulstrode. She looked like she chewed nails for breakfast. Still, all things considered, Seamus was sort of grateful that at least he was paired with Ron; they appeared to be the only two in their house who were actually paired together.
At least he was until, as he and the rest of the students spread out in the room with their assigned partners, he noticed Ron extracting his wand. "Oh, bloody hell. I forgot you broke your wand. You're not going to kill me with one of your unexpected hexes, like, are you?"
Ron frowned, though he appeared sheepishly in agreement with Seamus' words. "I don't think so?"
"I don't want to die. I'm too young to die."
"Shut up, Seamus. I'm not going to kill you." The unspoken 'try' was apparent in his voice as Ron shifted awkwardly, a little worriedly. "And how the hell did you forget I broke my wand when you always seem to remember how it was broken with the Willow and everything."
"My head's filled with the important stuff, Weasley," Seamus said.
"So me breaking my wand isn't important?"
"Well, it is now."
Their exchange was cut short by Lockhart's resounding voice as he called for their attention. With a few short words and another plastic smile – he appeared to have recovered from his momentary embarrassment faster than his sympathetic onlookers had – he urged them into their duelling stances with an enthusiastic, "Alright! Off you go". No directions were given. That was simply it.
Seamus turned back towards Ron where he was adjusting the bent length of his wand patched in too much Spell-o-tape. God, I'm going to die, he thought in horror. I'm definitely, definitely going to die. Instead of saying as much, however, with only a brief glance around himself at Harry and Malfoy – already scowling at one another – and Dean and Wayne – who seemed to be at a bit of a loss of how to proceed – he cleared his throat. "Alright, Ron. Let's go then."
It was all a bit pompous and formulaic with the whole bowing thing, Seamus considered, but he followed Ron's lead as he in turn followed what he remembered of the opening to the Lockhart-Snape duel that hardly even warranted the term. Turning in step and striding away from one another, Seamus turned at what he considered the correct number of steps and raised his wand towards Ron.
"So do we, like…?"
Ron shrugged, raising his own wand. "I guess. On three? One… two… um… three?"
"Titillanto!" Seamus cried the moment Ron had finished speaking, sweeping his hand in a tight arc and sending the hex flying in a burst of purple light. Ron had a split second for his face to slip into surprise before he was struck. Then he was on the floor, rolling on his back and clutching his belly as he writhed with laughter beneath the Tickling Hex.
Seamus grinned. Maybe he should have paused just a second longer to allow Ron more time, but there was no harm done. Seamus knew a fair number of hexes – growing up with Fergus and his older brother Dillon as cousins, he'd picked up a fair few – but it wasn't like he wanted to hurt Ron. Duelling sounded cool and all but he didn't really want to hurt anybody.
Watching Ron wriggle on the ground for a moment, he allowed the hex to continue only until Ron started pleading in garbled stutters. "Seam – please, can – can you make it – Seamus, make it stop!"
Seamus wasn't cruel enough to allow the torture to continue when his opponent cried mercy. With a wave of his wand and a quick "Finite", Ron sagged to the ground, panting with arms still clutching his belly. After a moment he managed to clamber back to his feet. His cheeks were flushed in ruddy splodges and though he looked faintly accusing he was still smiling good-naturedly enough.
"I didn't know you could do the Tickling Hex," he said, brushing down the front of his robes and readjusting his stance. "Is it hard?"
Seamus shrugged. "Not really."
"Alright then, can I have a go?"
"If you can get a shot in, yeah."
"Are you taunting me, Finnigan?" Ron said, raising an eyebrow alongside his rising wand.
Seamus grinned. "Maybe just a little."
They didn't bother with the formalities again as, from a glimpse around himself, Seamus saw that most of his fellow students weren't. The entirety of the 'duelling club' seemed to have deteriorated into students simply revelling in the chance to hex one another. Seamus couldn't really blame them; he was just as enthusiastic. Instead, both he and Ron counted down this time before diving back into the supposed 'duelling'.
Ron shot a purple hex at Seamus, which he sidestepped so closely that he swore he felt an echoing shadow of the tickle. Seamus launched another hex right back at him with a cry of "Steleus!" that sent Ron into a series of explosive sneezes and Seamus laughing just as explosively in response. He ended it just before Ron launched another spell.
This one struck. It struck and immediately Seamus felt the urge to puke. The smile slid from his face but he hardly noticed and he only just managed to retain his hold on his wand as he clutched at his belly. His knees felt suddenly turned to jelly as he bent double.
"Oh, shit! Bloody hell, I'm sorry, Seamus, it was supposed to be a Tickling Charm and I –" Ron hastened across the room towards him, hand dropping to Seamus' shoulder where he was bent nearly to the floor and struggling with his rising gorge. Not good, gonna puke, gonna puke…
"I'm sorry, are you – are you okay? You look like you're gonna puke."
Seamus turned an attempt at a glare up towards Ron. Really, Ron? He looked like he was going to disgorge his stomach? Well, by golly, he was glad that it looked as bad as it felt. It would be completely unjust if he didn't look as sick as he suddenly felt.
"What… the hell… did you…?" Seamus managed to stutter out before he had to clap a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes closed to withhold the uncontrollable urge to paint his shoes with his half-digested dinner. He bent down further, sinking onto his haunches.
"It's okay, I – I mean, I'm sorry, but I'll – I've got this!"
Seamus only had time to snap his eyes open, to see Ron point his wand at him again and stutter "Finite!" He would have told Ron to not, to keep his wand away from him because what kind of a wand cast a Tickling Charm like this? Blessedly enough, however, the counter-charm actually worked and an instant later Seamus sagged to his knees as the roiling in his gut eased.
"Shit, I'm really sorry about that, Seamus, I'm really, really sorry, I –"
"What happened?"
Glancing up, Seamus saw Dean and Wayne wandering slowly towards them. Or slowly at first, then with increasing speed as they seemed to realise something was wrong. The duelling appeared to have been momentarily ceased by a Finite Incantatum from Snape, with Lockhart sweeping through the students spaced across the room and, with a tap on the shoulder and his plastic smile, drawing them to a pause that they had already assumed. The curiosity on Dean's face was quickly replaced by a frown and rising concern as he hastened to Seamus' side and dropped to a squat. "What happened to you? You look like you're going to pass out."
"Well, at least I don't look like I'm going to puke anymore," Seamus managed. His voice sounded strained, almost a croak. Ron shifted awkwardly, muttering another apology beside him.
"Do you think we should go to the hospital wing?" Dean suggested.
Seamus only shook his head. He still felt unwell but he thought the feeling from whatever unhinged spell Ron had cast was fading. Besides, he didn't want to miss the rest of the duelling lesson, even if it was a pathetic excuse for one. "No, I'm fine. I'm good."
Taking Dean's proffered hand, he rose to his feet and turned back towards the room at large. Most of the students had halted in their duelling, though Bulstrode appeared to have captured Hermione in an unshakeable headlock that Snape not four feet away was resolutely ignoring. Another Slytherin girl with the dark hair who Seamus was almost certain was from their year tripped Neville onto his backside even as Seamus watched. He wasn't sure if it was with a spell or a well-aimed kick.
It was, by and large, a disastrous first attempt all around. Seamus muttered as much to Dean, who was still looking at him with a touch of concern. He appeared to shake himself out of it a moment later, however, as he replied. "Yeah, well, what did you expect? We have Lockhart as a teacher and only Snape to rein him in."
Seamus could only agree. "At least we know that it probably can't get much worse, like."
Unfortunately, Seamus had spoken too soon. It didn't get worse for him, for Seamus resolutely refused to participate in any more duelling with Ron and Ron seemed hesitant to do so anyway. But still, even without any more casualties on his part, the rest of the lesson couldn't be deemed tame. Not when Malfoy conjured the snake and flung it at Harry. Not when the snake went for Finch-Fletchley, the loud-mouthed Hufflepuff boy, and Harry spoke in Parseltongue to it. No one could have expected that, least of all Seamus. The snake stopped in its tracks long enough for Snape to blast it into oblivion, but Seamus could hear the whispers around him, the mounting fear as to Harry's actions.
As if things weren't bad enough. The school was already a little unhinged, what with the Petrification of that first year Colin Creevy kid. Seamus had been quite happy trying not to think about that for the night. Something simply had to have gone worse.
The duelling lesson quickly wrapped up after that. Harry took off as though the whispers erupting behind him and chasing his tail where charging bicorns, Ron and Hermione disappearing after him. With the rapid and unnerved cessation of the duelling lesson, Seamus fell into step beside Dean and Neville and they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. Seamus was feeling better after his bout of nausea had passed, though Neville had still commented that he looked pale. That wellness had abruptly been dampened.
"So he's… Parseltongue, right?" Dean asked, testing the word out as if for the first time.
Seamus nodded. He sometimes forgot that Dean didn't know some of the things that most witches and wizards simply understood. "Yeah. He can talk to snakes."
"And that's a bad thing?"
"I think it's probably just that people will think he's the heir of Slytherin or something," Neville said, shrugging awkwardly. "I mean, it was supposed to be Slytherin's gift and no one but – but You-Know-Who has been known to have it for centuries."
Dean winced slightly. "Jeez. That sucks. He's really going to get it, isn't he?"
Seamus nodded his agreement. "It's all a load of bollocks, though, like."
"You think so?" Neville asked, leaning around Dean as they both glanced towards him.
Seamus nodded shortly once more. "Of course it is. We've known Harry for, like, a whole year now? Do you really think he'd be evil or whatever? Especially after what happened at the end of last year."
Neville's face cleared a little of the frown he'd been wearing. He appeared suddenly relieved, as though Seamus' words had been reassuring. Really, though, wasn't it obvious? It seemed sort of obvious to Seamus. This was Harry, after all. Harry wasn't evil, surely.
Dean was smiling at him, nodding his own agreement. "Yeah. You're right. You are right, Seamus."
Seamus stared at him for a moment and wondered at the tone in Dean's voice. It sounded happy, almost… proud?
Whatever. He discarded it as he picked up his pace towards the Gryffindor common room.
"Thanks for that heaps, Hannah. I'm dead awful at Potions, like."
Hannah smiled warmly and Seamus wondered not for the first time how he had initially thought she was plain. It was true that her features might have been average, and nothing in particular would stand out at a passing glance, but when she smiled Seamus was left with the a warm, fuzzy feeling that he likened to that he was felt receiving similar from his older brother. It was comforting.
"No worries," Hannah said, accepting the thanks with a wave of her hand. "I think it's probably harder for you guys because you're in Potions with the Slytherins. I don't think Snape's quite as mean to us because it's just us Hufflepuffs with the Ravenclaws."
Seamus shrugged. "Still. Thanks anyway." He rose from where he'd momentarily taken a seat at the Hufflepuff table to talk to Hannah, wedged between she and Wayne with his Potions homework spread before him. Both Hufflepuffs had been surprisingly eager to offer their assistance. In their previous year Seamus hadn't ever had much to do with them save to share some classes with them, and not since his train trip alongside them both and their friend Susan at the beginning of the school year had he actually spoken to them. But they were both really almost unbelievably friendly and though Seamus wasn't really the sort of person to go and sit at another house's table, he made an exception this once. How could he not when Hannah had so kindly offered her assistance at overhearing his Potions distress?
"Any time you wanted to study together or anything, Seamus, we'll be more than happy to, you know," Hannah offered as he climbed over the back of the bench. "I know you said you don't usually like to but…"
Juggling his books, parchments and quills, Seamus flashed both Hannah and the quietly observant Wayne a smile. "Thanks. I'll keep it in mind. Dean says he's alright to do it himself and that Potions is just following a recipe, like, but he's just as bad as me. Maybe he'll come along?"
"Sure thing," Hannah nodded, waving once more as he turned to start from the Hall in search of Dean. He'd told him that he was going to talk to Hannah, to take her up on her offer to help because he had absolutely no idea about how to tackle their latest essay. Dean had scrunched up his nose and told him he'd see him later, that he was thinking of maybe going outside to fly a bit even if it was absolutely freezing.
Which was entirely stupid, but Seamus would admit he was tempted to join him.
As he passed through the corridors on his way back to Gryffindor Tower, however, thoughts of quidditch quickly left his mind. The first indication that something was wrong was when he saw McGonagall stride in a near run past him; she didn't even seem to notice he was there and Seamus was left frowning after her with the memory of her tightened expression and the wrinkles on her brow severely pronounced.
Then he'd seen the horde of whispering third year Gryffindor students, more openly worried than McGonagall. Then he saw Parvati and Lavender disappear around the distant corner at a near run, eyes blown wide. Something seemed… off.
It wasn't until Seamus, distracted with a glance over his shoulder at the sound of a shout echoing down the corridor, bumped into the pair of Hufflepuff fourth year boys that he knew something was really wrong. The Hufflepuffs started slightly at the sight of him a moment before their expressions fell into identical masks of sympathy. That in itself was terrifying.
"Hey, listen, we're sorry about it all, mate," one of the boys said.
The other nodded his sympathetic agreement. "Yeah. Seriously. Not only did you Gryffindors have one person in your house petrified already but another one, too? I wonder if whoever's doing it has a thing for attacking younger Gryffindors. First a first year, then a second year…"
The boys continued to talk but Seamus didn't hear what they said after that. Their words morphed in his ears as he felt his eyes widen. Petrified? Another one? And worse than that, a second year?
Seamus didn't know why he thought it. He didn't have any support for his supposition. But regardless, his mind immediately flashed to Dean. Dean, who had been by himself, who had gone outside by himself, and just when another person had been Petrified and…
What if it was Dean?
Seamus ploughed through the Hufflepuff boys in his sudden burst of speed, leaving their startled cries and calls of, "Hey!" behind him. He knew he dropped a quill and a piece of parchment but he didn't care; it could have been his hastily drafted Potions essay and he wouldn't have turned back for it.
Instead, he ran as though a Sprinting Charm had been affixed to his feet and practically flew back to Gryffindor Tower. Thoughts of his friend, of the possibility of his friend being Petrified because he'd been alone, because Seamus hadn't been with him –
It made him feel sick to his stomach, and only drove him faster.
So fast that, when he sped towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, he couldn't stop himself from crashing into the person exiting the common room and sent them both tumbling head over heels back through the porthole. Seamus knocked his head on the person's chin, thought he might have twisted an ankle and the books he'd still been holding scattered every which way, but he hardly cared. He was scrambling in an attempt to right himself immediately until –
"What the -? Seam, what the hell are you doing?"
Pausing in righting himself, Seamus glanced down at the person squashed beneath him, the soft, squishy person pillowed by excessive overcoats as though preparing to go outside. When he did, he gushed with a sigh of relief, such profound relief that he almost felt like crying. Dean. Dean was grumbling and complaining beneath him, urging him to get off him already, and could he please watch where he's going next time?
Seamus climbed to his feet on jelly-legs, offering a hand to Dean to pull him after him. Dean was frowning at him indignantly though without any real heat, and when Seamus bent to gather up his notes and textbooks with slightly trembling hands he helped him.
"What were you in such a hurry for? Don't the prefects always tell people off for running through the porthole?"
Seamus shrugged, accepting the faint scolding that Dean handed to him without complaint. He was struggling to get a hold of his relief, with the profound sense of gratitude that it hadn't been his friend who'd been Petrified. A small part of his mind whispered that if it wasn't Dean than it had to have been someone else in his year's cohort, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that. Not now.
Dean quickly seemed to realise that something was wrong. Urging Seamus further into the common room to make way for the sixth years that were attempting to skirt around them, his frown became more concerned than annoyed. "What's wrong, Seamus? You look upset. What happened?"
Swallowing, Seamus stared fixedly at where he fiddled momentarily with his books before finally lifting his gaze towards Dean. He had to swallow again through the tightness in his throat, the dryness in his mouth, before he managed to speak. "It's… someone else has been Petrified."
Dean's face immediately became a different kind of concerned, bordering on horrified. His voice lowered to a hush when he spoke. "Shit, really? That's… jeez. That's – that sucks." He paused for a moment, clearly at a loss for what to say before continuing. "Do you know who it was?"
Seamus shook his head. His eyes dropped once more to his fiddling hands and he had to fight to thrust aside the unexpected bout of fierce emotion welling within him. "No, I don't, I just… I just…"
"What?"
Seamus could feel Dean staring unblinkingly at him. Dean was like that. When he was worried about something, or thoughtful, or… or a lot of things, really, he wore such an intent stare that he seemed to see straight though Seamus and into his brain. He wondered that Dean couldn't read his mind just by looking at him.
Shaking his head, Seamus shrugged aside his embarrassment and his upset to attempt a casual response. He doubted he managed quite as well as he'd hoped. "I just… I'm glad it wasn't you, like."
Dean was silent for a moment, and Seamus was very aware of that silence, of the muted conversation in the rest of the common room that hadn't grown worried yet. Of the warmth of the fireplace, too, and the comfort of the familiar tower that did wonders for easing his tension.
Finally, Dean placed a gentle, warm hand on his shoulder in a way that didn't seem nearly as awkward or overly intimate as the solemnly mature gesture perhaps should have been. Seamus finally raised his gaze to him and felt his embarrassment rise before the affection in the small smile that Dean gave him. "Thanks," was all he said, squeezing Seamus' shoulder slightly.
Clearing his throat, Seamus nodded. He took a deep breath and strove for casualness once more. "So, you haven't left to go flying yet?"
Dean shook his head. "Not yet. I got a bit distracted reading a letter from my mum."
"Mind if I come down with you?"
Dean smiled once more before it shifted into a concerned frown. "I guess. Except that I'm not sure if we'll be allowed to after another Petrification's happened." He didn't dispute it further, however, and followed Seamus back up to their dormitory to so that he could properly rug himself up.
They didn't end up going down to the quidditch pitch. They didn't even get a chance to leave the common room before McGonagall appeared in a flurry and insisted that, "All students are to remain in the common room until a head count could be conducted". She told them that another Petrification had occurred, that it was Hermione Granger who had fallen prey to it this time, and that a bunch of new rules were being installed once again in response to the calamity.
Seamus was sad that it was Hermione; he wasn't really all overly fond of the girl but she was his housemate all the same. Still, that sadness was overridden by his ensuing relief that it's not Dean, it wasn't Dean. He felt a little guilty about that.
Even so, Seamus couldn't find that he really regretted they weren't going out to practice flying all that much.
Dean gave a jaw-splitting yawn as they made their way down to the carriages, though Seamus considered it to be more of a knock-on effect of the unending expressions of weariness that Ron was moaning and sighing behind them. The end of the school year had wound up with little exceptional circumstances after the Petrifications had been reversed. Something had happened with Harry and Ron again – Seamus knew because they'd ended up in the Hospital Wing again, at almost exactly the same time as they had last year – and Lockhart had disappeared a couple of weeks before the end of term but otherwise… it had been largely uneventful.
It was as though the Petrifications had never happened and, with the return of the headmaster, it seemed that they wouldn't continue, too. All of the professors seemed a lot more comfortable now, as though confident that nothing else could go wrong. Seamus didn't understand the basis for that comfort but he couldn't deny that it rubbed off on him.
Hermione was back to being a chatterbox, as usual, saying something over Seamus' shoulder that had a ring of bossiness to it. He resolutely ignored her; he was glad that she was better, certainly, but damn was she a incessantly bossy. Instead he turned to Dean who walked at his side, rubbing his eyes dopily as though Ron's tiredness was rubbing off on him still. "You'll make sure you'll write to me this summer, yeah? I don't know if I can stand another whole two months just with me cousins for entertainment."
Dean nodded, as he had each time that Seamus had asked as much from him. "Yeah, 'course."
"And I'll come and visit you more times this time, like. I talked to me mam and she said that I might be able to go a couple more times this holidays."
Dean nodded again. "Cool. Yeah, and I'll come and visit you too this time."
Seamus slowed in step until Harry nearly crashed into him from behind, urging him to pick up his feet once more. His blinked at Dean, eyebrows rising in surprise. "What? Since when? I thought your mam said you couldn't come, like?"
Dean shrugged once more. "Since yesterday when she sent me a letter. Mum said that she might make a holiday of it or something. A family thing, and maybe I could come to Ireland for a week or two."
Seamus found his smile spread and grow. "Really? That's great! You could just stay at me house or whatever."
"Do you think your mum would mind?" Dean didn't sound as concerned for the intrusion as his words would suggest he was. Seamus wondered if his mum had told him to say those exact words on more occasions than one.
Waving aside the concern, Seamus shook his head. "Nah, we've got, like, a massive house. You know me uncail's family's the descendant of a Lord or Tiarna or whatever 'cause he's pureblood, like?"
"Yeah, you said that. It still seems weird that you're half pureblood."
"Someone can't be 'half pureblood'," Hermione interrupted from behind them, as though she'd actually been to their conversation rather than that she Harry and Ron's. "That's what a half-blood is."
Seamus and Dean ignored her. Such interruptions were fairly typical of Hermione, and though she might have sounded attentive, Seamus would have laid money on the fact that she'd only heard the one snippet of 'incorrect' words and sought to correct their inaccuracy before falling back to her own discussion. Instead, he nodded at Dean. "Yeah, I know. And Uncail Jack doesn't exactly seem like the kind of pureblood type, you know? He's not lordly at all, and kind of a big-mouth. What I meant was that we usually get the old county manor in the summer break and it's huge. There'd be heaps of space for all of you."
Dean grinned widely. "Great! Then I'll tell my mum and see if we can visit. She'd probably like to call your mum or dad first, though."
"Make sure it's by Floo then, like. Me mam doesn't have one of those phones and dad doesn't tend to use it 'cause they don't work around magic do well."
Dean nodded. "Right. Well, I can't see mum sticking her head into a fireplace or anything so we might have to keep it just to letters."
"Sounds fine to me," Seamus said, beaming at his friend. They pulled up beside the horseless carriages and Seamus jumped into the closest one with sudden enthusiasm than he'd been bereft of that morning at the prospect of not seeing Dean for weeks. The summer holidays weren't looking quite so boring this time around.
