Even as a pubescent young boy Seamus was quite in touch with his feelings. When people thought there was something between him and Lavendel he just had to snog her once to know that there wasn't.

He just didn't like her like that.

He didn't really like her at all; she was so girly and so very annoying.

He was the happy Irish boy who was still short while his friends grew taller. He had not a care in the world, even though some tings blew up every now and then… like literally.

It didn't happen as often as it used to though… at least Seamus thought so.

Dean however had become quite the man during the summer; he still had a boyish feature but was tall and broad-shouldered in comparison to Seamus so he seemed manlier.

They were resting in the grass, it was still warm outside even though autumn was hiding around every corner. They enjoyed the last days of warmth and the last sunrays of the year.

And most important, they enjoyed them together.

Seamus and Dean.

Dean was drawing, something he'd become quite good at over the years. Seamus didn't know why he drew but he had nothing against it. Dean was talented and Seamus made it a game to guess what he was drawing before he was done. If he guessed it right he reworded himself by making Dean give him a backrub.

Seamus actually had no idea why Dean complied every time.

But today Seamus didn't guess what Dean was drawing; he just lay there at his side and watched as his hands worked on the paper. Those were skilled hands and the paint left traces of blue and red on his fingertips that smeared together into something lilac.

It was mesmerizing to watch, he sighted in content and closed his eyes.

Dean looked his way with a small smile on his dark, thin lips.

"What?" he asked, voice slightly pubertal as it rose to a higher pitch at the end.

"Nuthing, I'm just thinking about ye painting me" he answered with a broad smile "I'd like a portrait of me"

Dean chuckled and Seamus could feel him shifting next to him. Even though he had his eyes closed he knew Dean was changing his position.

"Sure I could paint you" Seamus didn't have time for a respond before something cold hit his cheek but it soon warmed up as hands brushed over it.

His eyes shot open and he saw Dean grinning broadly. Blue paint covered his left hand as he smeared it over Seamus's cheek.

"Blue suits you" he whispered "I like you in blue"

Seamus smiled back at his friend and closed his eyes again, letting his friend paint him.

"Your lips look good red though" a new hand ghosted over his lips and he parted them slightly with a small gasp. The paint felt cold against his lips as those hands, now covered in red paint pressed softly against them.

But it felt good.

It tasted earthy.

The hands were gone, now holding him down by the shoulders as a shadow grew over him, blocking out the sun. Rough, thin lips pressed softly against his and he stifled a moan. The paint smearing out over both their faces as the kiss got passionate.

He could almost taste a distinct taste of chocolate from Dean's lips.

"Seamus" Dean breathed out and Seamus responded with a whimper as Dean started kissing down his neck and down to his collarbone.

"Seamus"

It felt good.

Seamus.

The voice changed somehow, the tone wasn't restrained but firm and did not fit the picture at all.

Seamus!

It grew louder.

"Seamus!" Seamus eyes shot open, now in the real world as he looked up at his real best friend, not daydream Dean from before. Surprise shone in his eyes to match the wonder on Dean's face.

"Are you alright?" Dean knitted his eyebrows together in concern. "You look a bit red… and I heard you whimper"

Seamus face turned even brighter.

"U-U'm fine" he spluttered out. He was so very embarrassed.

"You don't have a fever do you?" Dean's large hand landed on his forehead, it did not make it better.

"No I'm fine!" He exclaimed and sat up, he was very thankful that he had put his sweater in his lap when he lay down. He held it tightly in its place and rose from the spot.

"I think we have class! McGonagall will kill us if we're absent again"

Dean seemed surprised that Seamus actually cared about that but nodded.

"You're right, we should hurry"

"I need't use the bathroom so I'll run ahead n' see ye there. Kay?" he didn't wait for Dean's response but ran as fast as he could to the castle. This he had to take care of fast before anyone saw him. Further embarrassment he could do without.

Was he ashamed? Yes. Could he help it? No.

Seamus was very much in touch with his feelings and he was quite sure that he liked Dean a little more than he cared to admit.


The reason that Dean painted… well he wasn't quite sure himself.

It was partly because he wanted to show his little sister all the wondrous things he saw at Hogwarts and a magic camera was too expensive and he wasn't sure a muggle one would work at Hogwarts. So drawing was the best option.

He had lately learnt a spell that could make his drawings come alive and rise from the paper for a little while and when he was seventeen he would show his sisters this.

He had also learnt that said spell proved to be a good party trick.

Another reason was that it was something his older cousins couldn't do. And he liked that.

Then there was also Seamus who in their second year once told him that he'd like a portrait of himself, only not a magical one. He thought it would be creepy to be able to speak to himself.

And Dean knew that they only had inanimate paintings in Seamus house, due to the fact that his mugglefather got the creeps from moving paintings.

The photographies were bad enough.

So Dean drew a lot, it was his thing.

And he never thought it strange that most of them were of Seamus. He was his best friend after all and they spent almost all their time together. And in an early state an artist drew what was nearby and that was Seamus so naturally Dean's drawings would be of the Irish boy.

There was nothing strange about that.

They had a normal third year, the dangerous happenings went by them almost unnoticed. It was of course hard not to notice that Sirius Black was on the run but other than that they weren't affected.

They hung out, relaxed and didn't pay much attention to anything that hadn't something to do with them.

If they had known that this would be their last normal and relaxed year at Hogwarts, perhaps they would have cherished it more…


A/N If it was't clear, the Deamus in this chapter is a daydream :3 It's a bit too early for some real action...

Hope you enjoyed.

God how I wanted to write that scene... I like it so very much xD