A/N This is the second and last part to the story, so thank you all so much for reading this!

Dean had been gone for a week and already Seamus felt like he was slowly loosing his mind. Every night he'd woken from a nightmare, however, instead of only waking with a gasp, something that had allowed him to hide his nightmares from Dean in the past.

Now he was waking with a terrified scream. He'd look to the right side of the bed, to take in the comforting sight of his sleeping boyfriend, but that side was empty. With his nightmare still clawing onto parts of his conscious, he'd think for a few terrifying moments that Dean had been lost in the war and the three years after it were all a dream.

When he'd fully wake up and remember Dean was in Asia, he'd regret convincing Dean to go, realising that Dean had been right. He did need to talk about what was haunting him. However, he could only talk to Dean, talking to anyone else would be a betrayal of their friendship and love, but he couldn't talk about it in a letter. So he resigned himself to three more weeks of torture.

The letter Dean sent him from the airport sat on the bedside table, where he could re-read it after his nightmares, if he couldn't have Dean with him, he'd have his words.

Seamus,

I forgive you, but I need to apologise as well. It wasn't right for me too push you like that. When you feel ready to talk, whether that's in a month or a decade, I will be here to listen to you. I understand that its hard for you, I just hate seeing that haunted look in your eyes, I want to hug you, to comfort you, but you say your fine, and deep down I know you're not only trying to convince me. You're trying to convince yourself. We will get through this, I know we will. We got through the aftermath of the war and that terrible year apart, so I know without a doubt we'll get through this.

I hope you're not working too hard, never thought I'd say that to you ha ha, but seriously Shay, you're an amazing healer, I just don't want you to make yourself ill or exhausted. And no blowing up the kitchen!

I miss you and look forward to coming home.

Love Dean.

The edges of the letter had become crumpled from where Seamus had gripped it with dear life. Work was stressful, and his nightmares not only haunted his sleep, but his waking moments as well.

He needed Dean; otherwise he didn't know what he would do. Go mad probably.

Dean was enjoying Asia, but he was still worried about Seamus. They'd exchanged some letters, but the international wizarding post, while quicker than the muggle alternative, was still very slow and so Dean (and Seamus back in Britain) had resigned himself to little or no letters from his boyfriend. The last letter he'd had from Seamus troubled him, the words didn't. The letter itself was filled with reassurances. However, the handwriting was shaky, and Seamus' usual neat handwriting, only got shaky when Seamus was stressed or worried about something.

What Dean wouldn't give to be back home to reassure himself that Seamus was all right. Coming to Asia had been a mistake, he should have sorted everything out with Seamus first and then, even if it were months later, he would have travelled to Asia.

After the war, Seamus had been there for him, helping him readjust to a life not on the run. Seamus had not only helped Dean, he'd helped everyone who needed it once they were back at Hogwarts for their eighth year. Dean had tried to be there for Seamus, but his best friend was all smiles and jokes, and Dean was only aware of a few nightmares before Seamus talked to him that one time. He thought Seamus was all right, when really; Seamus was one of the ones who needed help the most, after taking a leadership role with Neville in seventh year. Seamus had suffered more than those he helped, but Dean had just assumed that helping people was Seamus' way of coping with what had happened.

Looking back now though, Dean realized that he should have gotten Seamus to open up a long time ago. Then perhaps his boyfriend wouldn't be suffering like he was now.

Dean was stretched out on his hotel bed, staring at a photograph of him and Seamus, taken in their sixth year. Back then they had no idea what was coming their way. He gently ran his thumb over the Seamus in the photo; Seamus was grasping onto Dean's arm, holding himself up, as his head was thrown back in laughter, tears streaming down his face.

While Seamus still laughed, not presently though, it was never as carefree as in the photo. That was something else Dean had to adjust to once the war was over, to not see his best friend laugh so freely and joyfully had been saddening, but he had to acknowledge that no one was as they once were.

He rested the photo on his bedside table and stared at it until the next thing he knew was waking up in the sunlit room, still facing that precious photo. Once he got home, he was determined that he was going to help Seamus, and then hopefully he'd one day get to hear Seamus' loud carefree laughter again.

He was counting down the days until he could go home.

Today was the day Dean was coming home. Seamus had booked two weeks off work, starting the next day, to spend time with his boyfriend. Partly to make up for the month apart, and partly to sort out the argument between them and the problem of his nightmares.

It was two hours until his shift was over and Seamus headed up to see Agnes, who he'd not been able to see apart from a few handful of times and who had not been doing well over the past month. He approached the old witch's bed and sat down in the chair beside the bed.

"Hello Agnes," he greeted,

"Seamus," she smiled, "Come to sit and talk properly this time have we?"

"Yes I have, sorry to say I've been very busy the last month," he responded.

Agnes' eyes narrowed, she took in his rumpled condition and said, "I hope you weren't fibbing to me when you said you were going to talk to Dean. You look worn out lad, and not from being kept busy, but from lack of sleep."

Seamus sighed, "I wasn't fibbing, its just…Dean went to Asia the Tuesday following the day I talked to you. And that night we got into a massive row, because I didn't want to tell him about my nightmares before he left. He was going for a month, back today, and I figured I'd tell him once he got back. Booked two weeks off work and everything."

Agnes nodded and slowly patted his hand, "I understand lad, and I'm glad you've got time off work to sort everything out. I hate to see you so troubled." She broke off into a coughing fit that had her wheezing for breath.

Alarmed Seamus stood and rubbed her back soothingly and then passed her a glass of water. "All right now Agnes?"

"Never better, lad." She smiled.

Seamus retook his seat and chatted to Agnes before she fell asleep. Standing, he then tucked the blankets more securely around her and made his way over to the ward desk. There sat Healer Roberts, a middle-aged wizard with black, slowly turning grey hair.

"How is Agnes doing?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

Roberts sighed, "To be honest Finnigan, I don't see her lasting a week more. Her body is tired from fighting all the illnesses she's had."

Seamus nodded, the backs of his eyes prickling with tears. He cleared his throat, "Thanks, keep me posted okay?"

"I will," promised Roberts with a sympathetic look.

Then Seamus cast one more look back at Agnes before he left the ward heading towards his own office. Trying to block out the thought of Agnes dying, he'd grown close to her, and not only that, his Finnigan grandmother was the same age as Agnes. As horrible it was for Agnes to be dying, it was worse for him to picture his grandmother instead.

He clenched his hands into fists, and gritted his teeth. Beyond thankful that Dean was coming home today.

Oh what a great welcome home this'll be. Seamus thought to himself bitterly. Dean's been gone a month, and whenever he's been away he relishes coming home. And now you're just going to spoil everything with your problems. Guess the award for worst boyfriend would go to you Finnigan.

Dean arrived home and found Seamus just dishing up dinner, pasta and a tomato sauce. His boyfriend turned and looked at him nervously, and Dean saw why. If he thought Seamus looked exhausted a month ago, it was nothing compared to now, the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent, he looked paler, no life in his eyes and his clothes were rumbled. But seeing the nervous look on Seamus' face, Dean decided to not bring up their argument that night, it would only spoil everything.

So Dean surged forward and kissed Seamus hard, encircling the Irishman tightly in his arms. Then they just stood there for a moment, leaning against each other enjoying the presence of the one they had missed for a month, before turning to eat their dinner. Dean noticed Seamus open his mouth a few times, as if he was going to say something, but then the words just wouldn't come out.

"I've got the next two weeks off," murmured Seamus,

"It'll be nice to spend time together, that was a great idea," he smiled comfortingly; he hated whenever Seamus became nervous and unsure, and hated it even more when he was the cause.

Soon a conversation started and the silence was over. After washing the dishes they made their way into the living room, when Seamus' manner changed.

"Look Dean, I'm going to try and talk to you about…well…you know, so just bear with me while I try and get the words out," said Seamus, his blue eyes boring into Dean's brown ones.

"Okay," nodded Dean, "But can I just ask, why did you feel you couldn't tell me this before?"

Seamus' eyes widened, and then he calmed himself and shook his head. "That doesn't matter, what does is that I've finally sucked up enough Gryffindor courage to tell you about seventh year."

Dean nodded, a bit disappointed that he would never find out why Seamus would never tell him anything. Part of him upset that Seamus may have been truthful in their argument; in that he felt Dean couldn't understand.

Just as Seamus opened his mouth, Roberts' face appeared in their fireplace.

"Finnigan. You're needed at St. Mungos," he barked out in a rush.

Seamus, frowning, got up and knelt before the grate. "I'm on holiday now, surely someone else on call could go."

Roberts shook his head, "I think you're going to want to come in."

Seamus cast a glance back at a confused looking Dean, "Why?"

"Its Agnes," sighed Roberts sadly.

In his shock, Seamus fell back to a sitting position, his eyes wide. "A…A…Agnes?"

"I'm afraid so," murmured Roberts, "I don't think she's going to last the night. Will you come?"

Seamus turned back to look at Dean. Dean stood up and knelt beside Seamus, "Go. I'll still be here when you get back."

"You sure?" whispered Seamus; looking up into the caring brown eyes he loved so much. "You've not been back that long."

Dean rested a hand on the Irishman's shoulder, "Yes. Just go. I know how much you care about her. So go."

Seamus leaned up to quickly kiss Dean, and then he was climbing into the grate and suddenly was gone. Dean remained where he was, sadly looking at the fireplace. Hoping against hope that Agnes suddenly got better, he'd only met her once, but had instantly liked her. Not only that, loosing Agnes would just be another blow for Seamus.

Three hours later, Seamus was sat in his usual chair beside Agnes' bed, clutching her hand. Ten minutes ago Agnes had passed on, with one more smile and piece of advice for Seamus.

"Don't just tell Dean about your nightmares. Let him help you through them. Soon they'll stop and the two of you will come out stronger for it."

Still he sat there, holding her hand, with tear filled eyes, remembering all the jokes and stories passed between them. Roberts came and offered some words of comfort, and then Seamus turned and left, apparating home.

He arrived to find Dean waiting for him on the sofa. One look at Seamus' wide and tear filled eyes, told Dean all he needed to know. He was up off the sofa and brought Seamus in for a tight and comforting hug.

Once they were snuggled up in bed, Seamus quietly whispered. "I'm sorry. This wasn't much of a welcome home."

"Don't worry about that, love," murmured Dean, his arms still enclosed around Seamus, looking at the saddened face in front of him. "This is nothing to be sorry for."

The next day, Seamus woke up feeling numb. This time not from nightmares, but from seeing Agnes pass, again and again in his dreams. So in way, his night was disturbed by nightmares, just not the usual ones. Her death was almost as bad as watching his friends die at the Battle of Hogwarts. She'd spent the past four years fighting numerous illnesses, and had beaten them all, but her body was too exhausted to continue living. It was painful to watch as the life bled out of Agnes, and Seamus, powerless to stop it, could only sit there and hold her hand. He hated feeling useless, he'd spent his entire seventh year fighting against the Carrows, standing up to them for his friends and the younger kids, to feel useful. Seamus hated being rendered useless, but that was all he was for poor Agnes last night.

Seeing how upset Seamus was about Agnes, Dean didn't bring up the topic of Seamus' nightmares. Instead, he just pottered around the flat, creating comforting, homely noises for Seamus not to be lost in the silence. Seamus lay on the sofa all day, and would smile a little to himself, knowing what Dean was doing for him. He had missed the noises Dean would make around the flat during the month they'd spent apart. The silence had been pressing on him, making everything worse. Now it will only be better, he told himself. Remembering his promise to Agnes to talk to Dean.

It was the second day of Seamus' two weeks off and Dean had popped out to the shop leaving Seamus stretched out on the sofa. When Dean returned his heart twisted in pain. Seamus had fallen asleep and was obviously in the grips of a nightmare.

Seamus was twisting and turning, muttering, gripping the pillows of the sofa. As Dean rushed over, Seamus' mutterings became louder, and tore at Dean's heartstrings.

"No. Stop. Please stop! I don't know anything. I don't know! Stop!"

Not for the first time Dean felt the need to rip the Carrows apart limb from limb. He reached Seamus' side and whispered soothing nonsense to his boyfriend and gently rubbed up and down his arm, and ran fingers through the sandy hair. "You're not there anymore love, you're not there."

"Leave them alone!" snapped Seamus, "No! Colin! Listen to me! They don't know anything!"

"Shay, come back to me love. You're safe, you're not there anymore," murmured Dean, trying to hold back tears.

Suddenly with a gasp and tears streaming down his face, Seamus sat up shaking. Dean sat in front of him and wiped away the tears and tried to meet the gaze of the blue eyes that were staring blankly ahead at nothing. "Shay?"

Seamus blinked and met Dean's eyes. His face crumpled and then he hid his face in his hands. "I'm sorry," sobbed Seamus.

"Hey, hey. You've got nothing to be sorry for." Interrupted Dean firmly, as he brought Seamus in for a bone-crushing hug.

Gasping Seamus choked out, "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to worry you."

Dean closed his eyes in silent pain and buried his face into Seamus' sandy hair. "Oh Seamus," he whispered.

"I thought I could deal with it," sobbed Seamus, "But I couldn't! It only got worse, and the worse it got, the harder it got to try and say anything! And you weren't here and I didn't want to talk to anyone else."

Dean began to silently cry and murmured, "I shouldn't have left."

Seamus shot backwards to stare at Dean, "Yes you should have! You wanted to go!"

"But you needed me here," countered Dean, his teary brown eyes boring into the tear filled blue ones of his boyfriend.

Seamus looked at Dean with tired eyes, "I knew how much you wanted to go, I didn't want to hold you back."

"You could never hold me back," Dean said fiercely as he hugged Seamus tightly.

They sat there, huddled together, Dean stretched out on the sofa with Seamus tucked into his side. Dean clutched Seamus to him as his boyfriend slowly and haltingly began to tell him what his seventh year had been like. Their shoulders would occasionally shake with silent sobs and their tears mixed as their cheeks pressed together.

The Dark Arts lessons that involved practicing curses on each other, or even practising the Cruciatus curse on first years, or the painful 'punishments' for refusing to cast the curses.

How the other Professors tried to protect them, but ultimately failed and would have to watch as their students were 'punished' in the corridors.

When a Slytherin with a grudge against them, would make up a lie, and how the Carrows would 'punish' them for daring to cross a pureblood Slytherin.

The beatings and curses, which left bruises and scars.

Having to watch as his friends. Neville, Ginny, Lavender, Cho, Colin and many others, were tortured in front of him for 'detention', and he himself, tortured in front of them.

The cold nights stuck in the damp dungeons.

The screams, from pained and terrified students, even three years later, that still echoed through Seamus' head.

The haunted eyes of first years that grew up too fast.

The fear that Dean was dead and Seamus would never see him again.

The lack of hope that began to take hold throughout the castle, despite the DA's best efforts.

The injuries Seamus had to heal for his friends and fellow DA members.

The injuries that his friends and fellow DA members had to heal for him.

Standing up for the younger students like Colin, only to see they had fallen in the Battle.

Seamus ended his tale with the relief he had felt when Dean found him after the Battle. How, despite his left leg on fire with agonising pain, was forgotten the moment he saw Dean.

"Oh Merlin Seamus," choked Dean, his eyes blown wide with the surge of heartbreak he felt at hearing all his boyfriend had gone through. "I had no idea."

Sighing, Seamus reluctantly moved out of Dean's arms and stood up to face the fireplace. "I didn't want you to know."

"Why?" begged Dean sitting up to face Seamus' back. Wanting and needing to know why Seamus, who usually told him everything, had kept silent for three years about this.

Seamus, with a bowed head, braced himself with his right arm on the mantle, and with his left hand, he ran it across his face and stared into the empty grate. "When I told you about that nightmare back in eighth year…I saw how upset and horrified you were and…I decided then…I decided that I would never tell you about that year again…"

Dean stared at Seamus' back, not knowing what to feel. To know that Seamus had been suffering in silence all because he didn't want to upset Dean again, in some ways that hurt. Dean had told himself, after coming out of hiding, and seeing all that Seamus and the DA had done to keep the students going, had promised to be there for his best friend. To know he failed hurt.

"Seamus."

"Yeah that's me," chuckled Seamus bitterly, "Seamus Finnigan, the one with stupid ideas, that later gets his friends 'detention' with the Carrows." Seamus stared into the grate, both hands on the mantle, gripping it with a white knuckled grip. As much as he tried to block them out, the memories came rushing back, the fear, the pain, and the screams.

He jumped when a pair of hands rested on his shoulders. He sucked in a shaky breath, determined not to cry anymore. He had to be strong. He couldn't let Dean feel guilty for him not saying anything.

"Seamus," murmured Dean, he slowly reached under Seamus' arms and loosened his grip on the mantle. Then gently he turned his boyfriend to face him, and then he cupped Seamus' cheeks with his hands making the haunted blue eyes meet his own caring brown eyes. "I know you were only trying to help me, but please promise me. Don't hide this from me again. I'm here for you, just as you are for me. So please, please let me in."

Seamus' eyes filled with tears and then he leaned forward and buried his face into the base of Dean's neck. "I promise, Dean. I promise," sniffled Seamus.

Dean tightened his arms around Seamus, and buried his face into the sandy mess of Seamus' hair. "I'm here, Shay. You are not alone."

For the next week Seamus was still plagued with nightmares, however this week, if he awoke first, he would hesitantly shake Dean awake. Then Dean would sit up with him, until Seamus felt he could go back to sleep.

To start with Dean felt guilty. Seamus' nightmares seemed to be worse since he had told him what had happened that year. Some nights Seamus would be woken by two or more nightmares. Seeing the haunted look in the blue eyes that usually shinned with mirth was heart wrenching. However, soon Seamus started to sleep through the night, and with full nights of sleep, slowly the haunted look began to fade.

One morning, halfway through Seamus' second week off. Dean slowly awoke, and turned to his left and was met with a sight that warmed his heart. There was Seamus, still deeply asleep, and not only that, with a peaceful look on his face.

He reached out and softly carded his fingers through Seamus' hair, and then he leaned forward to snuggle against his boyfriend, and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. Two hours later, a pair of sleepy blue eyes looked back at him.

"Good morning," smiled Dean.

"It will be if you make pancakes," grinned Seamus, with a blinding carefree grin and eyes filled with mischief.

Dean fought to keep the tears pricking at his eyes at bay. This was the first time in three years he'd seen the Seamus from before, the old Seamus, like the one in the photo from their sixth year.

Seamus, seeing Dean's slowly filling eyes, shifted forward and comfortingly hugged Dean. "Hey, everything's okay."

Nodding Dean kissed Seamus, knowing that now, everything really would be okay. Seamus was back, and they would only be stronger after this, they could weather any storm.

The End.