It took Dean three days to work up the nerve to say something. He tried everything he could think of, hoping he wouldn't have to. But after the third night of trying to sleep with the pillow over his face to block out the light, he knew it wasn't working.

He couldn't approach Seamus, though. What would he say? Sorry you've become so afraid of the dark, mate, but I need my beauty sleep? Afteran hour of lying awake one morning, wrestling with what he should do, he slipped out of the room and went down the stairs, relieved to find just Mrs. Finnigan sitting at the table, eating breakfast.

She looked up and smiled, gesturing for him to sit across from her.

"Morning, Dean," she said softly, taking in his haggard appearance. "You don't look like you slept too well…"

He shook his head as a gigantic yawn escaped, and he flushed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, but she brushed it aside.

"You know, I was thinking," she said carefully, and something in her tone caused Dean to look up quickly. She smiled at him.

"Maybe you would be more comfortable in the guest room… you boys are getting old to still be sharing, don't you think?"

It took all of Dean's willpower not to sigh with relief. Instead, he merely nodded and tried to keep his own smile under control.

"I do," he said. "Thank you. I didn't … I wasn't sure…" He trailed off, biting his lip. There was really no need to say anything now, was there?

But he couldn't miss the flash of understanding in Mrs. Finnigan's eyes as she said casually, "Well, people have different habits. I just think it might be difficult for some people to sleep with the lights blazing at all hours…"

She trailed off, and Dean swallowed with an audible click even as he stared at the table. He didn't need to say anything. She knew.

They sat together for a few more minutes until Dean pushed back from the table, his chair scraping the floor.

"Thanks," he muttered, and Mrs. Finnigan merely nodded as he quickly left the room.

Seamus woke up when Dean was hastily stuffing his things into his knapsack.

"Where're you going?" he asked, rubbing his eyes blearily, and Dean looked up with a start. He tried to smile but realized instantly how forced it must look and quickly glanced back down at the bed.

"Oh," he said, trying to make his voice sound as casual as possible, "I just talked to your Mum when I went downstairs for some breakfast. She thinks it'd be better for us if we each had our own room. And since there's an empty guest room…" He trailed off and looked up at last.

Seamus wasn't looking at him, but Dean thought he could spot the slightest hint of relief in his posture as he lounged in his bed.

"That's probably a good idea," he said as he yawned, and Dean nodded. The two remained silent as Dean finished gathering his things, and then he looked up again. Seamus was watching him, and he knew that both of them knew why he was leaving.

He sighed, and Seamus frowned.

"You're really all right with this?" he asked.

Dean looked at his friend's concerned face and shrugged.

"It's a good idea," he said quietly. "I haven't – I haven't been sleeping that well these past few nights…"

He trailed off. Seamus's face was reddening, and he knew he couldn't say anymore.

He slung the knapsack over his shoulder.

"I'll be right back," he told him even as he automatically tightened the straps and adjusted it more firmly on his shoulders. "I just need to put this in the other room."

Once he was out in the hall, he leaned against the wall, his heart racing. He simply couldn't imagine what Hogwarts had been like this past year, and right now, he was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Dean had just finished settling himself into his new room when he heard a knock on the door. Looking up, he was relieved to see Seamus there, smiling at him.

"Up for it?" Seamus asked, tossing a ball in the air, and Dean nodded instantly, smiling back. Both boys glanced outside at the rain. Seamus shrugged. "Here," he said, dropping the ball and kicking it towards Dean. For a few minutes, they maneuvered it back and forth, and then Seamus kicked just a bit too hard and watched in horror as the ball went careening toward the lamp on Dean's nightstand.

It crashed to the floor, and for a moment, they stood there, staring at the pieces. It wasn't until they heard footsteps on the stairs that Dean grabbed his wand and muttered, "Reparo."

The lamp mended itself instantly, but that wasn't enough to erase the grim look on Mrs. Finnigan's face when she stuck her head into the room.

She took in the scene and shook her head.

"Out," she said, pointing to the door. Both boys looked at her quizzically. "It's time you left the house," she said, putting a hand on each of their shoulders and pushing them firmly toward the stairs.

"But Mum…" Seamus said slowly. "It's raining."

"You'll dry off," she said unsympathetically. "I have to protect my furniture."

She opened the door and watched them until they grudgingly walked outside. "See you both later," she said and the instant she closed the door, Seamus looked at Dean and shrugged, rolling his eyes.

"I guess we were getting annoying?"

Dean laughed. "Well… I can sort of see why. Come on. Let's just go out in back."

It didn't take long for them to get so thoroughly soaked through that they no longer minded the rain. But it did take approximately 20 minutes before Seamus finally broached the topic that was on both their minds.

"So, tomorrow…" he said as he kicked the ball directly to Dean. Dean stopped it and considered what to say next as he took careful aim.

"Yeah… it's going to be pretty hard for Ron, don't you think?"

He let the ball soar toward the hedges but was unsurprised when Seamus managed to leap high enough to knock it back down. Seamus sent it back as he nodded.

"It will…" he sighed. "Did you see him at the memorial before we left? Harry was bad enough off, but Ron… I'd never seen him like that before."

Dean swallowed, kicking the ball with all his might. "I know," he said softly. "That was – that was awful. But he probably won't even be the worst…"

He didn't need to say the name. Neither of them did. But after a few silent moments of kicking the ball back and forth, Seamus said, "I'm pretty sure … that had to be George in the third year dorm that night."

Dean nodded quickly. "I was thinking that, too," he confessed. He shuddered, which he quickly tried to cover by sending the ball soaring once again. This time, it lodged itself in the trees, and Seamus had to summon his wand from his bedroom window in order to get it back.

Once it had been returned to its rightful place on the ground, Seamus muttered, "Fred Weasley… man. I don't know what this'll be like tomorrow. I went to my granddad's funeral when I was small, but that was different. This… Fred was only a couple of years older than we were. How…"

Dean shook his head. "I haven't been to any funerals," he mumbled. "I don't really know what to expect at all…"

Seamus shook his hair out of his eyes. "They're usually very quiet," he started, but then he shook his head again. "You know what, mate, I don't know, actually. My granddad's was quiet, but he was old. There are going to be so many people at this one… and all those Weasleys…"

A shudder coursed through Dean, but when Seamus glanced at him worriedly, he shook his head.

"Cold," he muttered, but they both knew he was lying. Because as soon as Seamus had said "Weasleys," the first image to pop into Dean's head had been of Ginny's drawn face as she sat at the foot of Harry's four poster bed, waiting for him as he slept.

Seamus nodded. "Let's go in, then," he said brusquely. The game was clearly over.

By the time Dean got into his own bed that night, he sighed with relief in the darkness that surrounded him. This was how it was supposed to be at night, he couldn't help but think to himself, even as he felt guilty for even letting the thought cross his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He should have absolutely no problems sleeping now, he mused, and he was relaxing; his mind was wandering; his breathing was easing, when suddenly, he felt pinpricks on his arm, and he flailed wildly, his hand instantly closing on his wand.

"STUPEFY!" he bellowed, and he heard a loud thump across the room. He sat up slowly, his heart racing, body shaking, and he wasn't surprised when only moments later, the door swung open.

Seamus was standing there, wide eyed, and it didn't escape Dean's attention that he instantly flicked on the light switch.

"Are you all right?" he asked hurriedly, and Dean nodded, trying to get his breathing under control.

"I'm fine," he muttered, feeling his face grow warm. "I'm – I'm sorry I woke you…"

But Seamus had already started to glance around the room, and he'd gone very still as his eyes fixed on the far corner.

Suddenly, without turning back to Dean, he shouted, "Dad! Mum! You – you need to come in here!"

Dean threw back the covers, wondering why earth Shay was suddenly looking so alarmed. When he stood up and saw what he was staring at, though, he instantly sank back into his bed in shock. He'd done – that?

But before he could think any more about it, Mr. and Mrs. Finnigan were there, and Seamus's dad was gently lifting the immobile cat from the corner where it lay crumpled in a heap.

"Dad … Dad, is Sparky all right?"

Mr. Finnigan had placed his son's pet on Dean's bed, and he was checking for broken bones. Once he'd reassured himself that there was really no damage, he turned to his son.

"He's all right," he said, and even as Seamus sighed with relief, Mrs. Finnigan couldn't help but hear the shaky breath that escaped from Dean as well. She glanced at him quickly, but his lips were pressed tightly together, and he was focusing only on the cat.

"Dean?" she said, "We know you didn't do this intentionally. Sparky's fine. It's – it's really ok."

Dean looked at her then, and the remorse she saw in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat.

"I'm – I'm sorry, Shay," he said quietly, but Seamus didn't even look at him. He was still staring at the bed.

"He looks – he looks like Mrs. Norris," Seamus mumbled.

His parents looked at him quizzically, but Dean immediately understood, and he swallowed hard.

"I know," he said. The anguish in his voice was so sharp that now, Seamus looked up.

"Would you like to fix this?" he asked, gesturing to the hand that still grasped the wand. Dean blinked. He hadn't even realized he was still holding it.

Nodding, he stumbled toward the bed, raising his wand and murmuring, "Enervate."

Sparky yawned, stretched and twisted his body so he was facing his owner. Seamus scooped him up then and cradled him against his chest, his face in his fur, until Sparky swatted at his arm, at which point Seamus gasped in pain and released him. With a graceful twist, Sparky landed on the floor and trotted out of the room.

For a moment, there was silence. And then Seamus's mother looked at his father and said, "Let's get back to bed,' gesturing deliberately to the door. He stared at her in confusion until comprehension suddenly dawned. Glancing at Seamus and Dean, he nodded and followed his wife out of the room.

Once they were gone, Dean sank onto the bed and sat staring at his knees.

"I'm really sorry," he said, unable to look up at Seamus. "I didn't mean to… it's just… I was falling asleep and then the cat… I didn't know…"

Seamus sighed. "It's ok. I know you didn't do it on purpose, and Sparky's fine. I guess … I'll let you go back to sleep?"

The question in his friend's voice wasn't one Dean was ready to answer. He simply nodded, mumbling "thanks" as Seamus walked out, closing the door behind him. He got back into bed and sighed. There was no use closing his eyes. He knew he wasn't going to be sleeping tonight.

A/N: Sparky's all for you, Lisa. Next chapter is when the funerals start… oddly enough, I don't think those will take me quite as long to write. Please read and REVIEW!