A/N: Disclaimer: still not Rowling. (Also still haven't read the Cursed Child, but I'm going to be getting it soon, so yay!)

Violet day: Aw, thank you so much! I'm glad you're happy to see something like this-I'm happy to write something like this! Well, true, it has been a good bit of time, but thanks for being the first to review-reviewers help keep me motivated and probably my muses motivated as well. Glad to know you think they're well in-character, it's a little harder with them being more side-characters in this story but if it has worked… good; and just for you, I will do my best to create some Nuna, I actually thought of a great thing that will seem angsty but I mean that's practically the whole premise of this story so it'll probably seem normal. Well, thanks again! (I have a habit of rambling so I guess I did a bit there, now didn't I? Whoops.)

The first few bits take place in November, but then it moves onto the next month thus I have just kept the title as December so things don't get complicated.

Admittedly, the first few bits of this chapter were first written at a time when I was apparently dead to any sort of good writing so I fixed it up to my best ability and hopefully it satisfies just enough. The first scene hopefully doesn't seemed too rushed, there wasn't too much I could write into it but also that was during the time of the drought of writing skills apparently.

There was already screaming coming from the room, it was just audible enough to hear from the corridor outside of the classroom. Swallowing hard, Seamus shut his eyes and tried to envision what he was doing this all for. Saving lives and making things right...and Dean. Once more, it was Dean. A voice in his head had told him that Dean would approve, possibly even laugh at the idea that he was using his pyro skills for attack-the constant explosions had always been something that held the two of them together through the years-but he would be proud. Wherever Dean was now...the thought made him let out a silent sigh. Dean was probably cooped up in a barn somewhere. He wasn't caught. There was no way. Something inside of Seamus knew that all hope wasn't lost yet, that Dean was still breathing. And sitting there, waiting, and thinking about it, gave him hope.

"Alright. We head in on the count of three. I've set up some of those smoke bomb products from Fred and George to block sight while we get in. If they see us or hear us...well we'd better hope we can get out before things get serious." There was an apprehensive tone to Ginny's voice, as if suddenly the whole prospect seemed terrifying.

Before anything else could be said or exchanged between them, Ginny was counting down, watching her watch. The door opened with the force of an explosion-courtesy of one of many fireworks-and instant blackness met them all as they scurried in. Seamus made his way over to the place he knew all the various fireworks and explosives were, and started setting them off into the chaos. A voice shouted from one end, Neville, who was giving the students the knowledge this wasn't against them.

"Move to the left and stand against the wall!" The voice purposefully didn't sound like Neville's, it was some sort of cover charm, and there followed the sounds of students screaming and running to the wall.

Ginny had apparently put in more of the Peruvian Darkness Powder bombs so they had more time. Rather, so he had more time. Seamus couldn't help the smirk growing on his face as he constantly set off the explosives. The sound of Luna and the others of the group calling to the students now to come out of the room was heard over a brief silence as he moved from one to the next. There was more smoke than darkness now, it seemed the fireworks had created a curtain of impenetrable smog so that the Carrows were lost in it.

Yet they weren't lost completely: curses were flying through the thick darkness of the room. A few even landed on some explosives which set them off before he could get to them. The Carrows were shouting them out as students ran for their lives. Seamus had to duck a few of what looked quite possibly like the Killing Curse sent his way, it seemed the Carrows had figured out where the explosives were being set off from even if they couldn't get to him specifically. A few cries were heard as students were hit with some of the spells being thrown, but no real screams-no one had died.

This was possibly the most dangerous thing he had ever attempted. They had all known it would be, but as an idea hatched by Seamus, it was usually going to be. Possibly the only thing safe about it was that a few of the D.A. were not participating.

But next time, Seamus decided as he set things off constantly and felt the fear start building at the thought of Amycus and Alecto happening to catch him, maybe all of the D.A. would be better. The thought was officially decided as he set off the last firework and bolted for the door, hearing a shout from behind as the smog started to clear. They had seen him.

None of the fear of what was to come settled in him until he was running through the corridors, aware of the stares from students as he pushed passed them. There weren't any shouts from behind yet. But surely, they were to come? Every student who had been in that detention had been gone from that room and were bolting back to their dorms now, as planned. The others of the D.A. might be back in their dorms or they might be in the Room of Requirement. Seamus wasn't actually sure, that part hadn't been clear. Ginny had made it clear that as soon as everything was done, you left.

Cursing his short legs, he became winded after a time and slowed down, realizing he'd arrived at Gryffindor Tower rather unexpectedly. Shouting the password to the Fat Lady, who only nodded as she swung open, he was met with the sight of the rest of the D.A. Gryffindors seated on the chairs and couches, some more sprawled out than others. Throwing himself onto one, he started to observe the soot covering his body, paying no mind to a few of the looks he got for being dirty.

There was indeed soot all over him. A laugh began building up in his throat, and as it built, he became less able to keep it down. It erupted out of him, starting with a giggle and becoming a full on hysterical mess. Hell was sure to come. Every minute of that had been worth it. They would be screaming for the group to come back, searching for them. But dear god, what would Dean make of him now?

Various murmurs came from the people around, but most had watched with interest. Everyone was looking at him like he'd gone insane. Oh, he had. He lived for those explosions. Those moments of invincibility when with everything blowing up around him, he felt alive. Alive and ready to take on whatever came.

As soon as the fit passed, he settled down into the chair, staring at the ceiling. With a mind wandering many ways and never able to stick with one, Seamus found sleep unattainable. The fellow students in the room clearly couldn't either: there was a lot of whispers being shared around the space. Technically, they had done what was right and had done it well. The Irishman knew that they wouldn't find sleep, no, not that night, and possibly not for a few nights more if things went the way-they were all certain-would.


Friday was the worst day to do it on, because there was the entire weekend sprawled out in front of them all. What had to be done had to be done, though, and thus it was that at three in the morning, he was woken from an extremely light doze by rumbling from outside. The room was shaking. Someone was trying to get in, and they were doing very well at it. There was more shouting as the portrait hole started to swing open. Seamus hadn't taken off any clothes, he'd anticipated something horrible happening, and he stood in front of the opening with his wand at the ready, fear gripping his heart. Anyone else in the room who had any sense was standing beside him, wands at the ready as well.

It was with a loud bang and a crash that the portrait opened, swinging through to reveal both of the Carrows, and Snape. The rest of the D.A. who weren't in Gryffindor and had ended up in their clutches were standing behind the adults, fear etched on their faces. Every student in the common room let out a small gasp as they were stared down by the teachers. Snape's cold eyes trailed over everyone, and Seamus felt their piercing gaze as they landed on him in particular. Amycus was letting out one of his infamous cackles-his sister was nearby, standing there with a grin on her face.

"I do believe you should all be in bed right now, if I'm not mistaken?" There were no shivers from any of the people standing there at the tone of Snape's cold voice. "It's a good thing one of your little friends here didn't disappear into the blue, or we would've never found you."

A first year, Hufflepuff, was held up by Amycus. With his bright brown eyes and smooth, dark skin, the kid looked a little like Dean at that age. Seamus felt a small twinge of despair at that thought. All the blame he had been prepared to give to the one who had given them away was suddenly gone, erased from existence. It had been replaced with longing once more.

"Little Daniel here ended up in the wrong corridor," Alecto motioned toward the first year, "Filch caught him in an instant. Nice of him to be patrolling the grounds at this time of night, isn't it?"

Daniel made a small noise, but that was quickly silenced by Amycus' hand over his mouth. A few people gave a start as if they were going to move forward, but stopped.

"Sir, we need to take these vagabonds and do what we please with them, right?" Alecto took a few steps forward, but never standing in front of the Headmaster, eyes lingering on Seamus like her brother's were.

"Oh, yes," there was a moment of pause in which the sounds of stiffening bodies was practically heard, "sort them into however many you can deal with at once."

"Sort yourselves: boys over here with me, girls over there." Seamus moved slowly to Amycus with the other boys, never ceasing to stop staring at the man.

"Are you sure you don't want to deal with this in the morning, Amycus?" Snape asked coolly, eyes trained on Ginny the entire time.

"I'd like them under careful watch for the rest of the night."

The group processed out of that corridor and into the next, all the while Amycus going on about how he was delighted he was finally getting to punish them all at once. They arrived at the Muggle Studies classroom-they had attacked the Dark Arts classroom, not this one-and after being pushed into a chair, he gave a quick glance around at the others. Neville looked resigned to his fate, but Ginny was staring straight ahead with an odd sort of determination. Luna was the calmest of them all, although she did give him a worried look as he glanced at her. Michael Corner looked absolutely petrified; in fact, most of the others did.

"I think it is safe to say that you have all caused one of the greatest disruptions I have ever known in a classroom." Snape was talking, that was new, "and I would say you had to be punished immediately. But I think it is wiser if we punish you on the weekend rather than now. Is Saturday a nice date for you two?"

"Of course, Headmaster." Amycus said this in the most flattering tone Seamus had ever heard out of him-and then it hit him. Amycus Carrow practically worshiped the ground Snape walked on, he was in awe with Severus Snape because of Snape's probably high status with the Death Eaters. Of course he would let the detention be pushed back. Alecto was nodding enthusiastically as well.

Every nerve in Seamus' body screamed in fear. This was going to be worse, and he wanted to let the others know that it was his fault. He should take the blame. At 3 A.M. in the morning, informing your friends that you'll take every blow isn't exactly a smart move, so he didn't do it. Not yet. That was the following day's business. Right now, Seamus was going to try and get a grip on society and his life, which was about to shatter to pieces once more.


"Get up again, you filthy Mudblood-lover! I said, stand up!" A lash landed on the already bright red and painful skin on his back; the whip was raised immediately again. Alecto was shrieking at the top of her voice. "You are meant to stand when talking to your teachers!"

Silly rules were always something Alecto liked to make up for the sake of torturing students. He'd heard rumors of her saying something along the lines of "teachers deserve more than just your respect" once, and the scary thing was, it implied more and was probably more true than any other rumor. The whip was slowly being covered in the brightness of blood. Each time it opened the back of his shirt more and more; he'd been forced out of his robes early on.

The screams erupting from the muscles that spasmed in his throat tore every thought from his brain. It was a new type of screaming. Echoing within it was some new form of pain. Whips weren't commonly used for torture these days, since wizards seemed to find the Cruciatus Curse was more useful. There were still some that held the tradition of the whip, and it appeared that the Carrows had held onto the idea of it quite well.

Articulating words wasn't exactly something Alecto liked to do. Her shrieks of delight were mostly screams of non-sensical things. Each time the whip hit, Seamus felt his body sink further into the floor. She always seemed to expect an answer from you, even when you clearly weren't able to get a word in otherwise or a word out of your gasping lungs. Air was a very precious thing to him, he'd decided, after the first few kicks to the ribs from Amycus; the squat man was standing off to the side with no doubt a smug smile on his face.

Every student so far had been put through this. Maybe not quite this badly, but since Seamus had created quite a habit of pissing the Carrows off, he wasn't surprised at their large attempts to outright murder him. The whip was a new thing, for everyone, though.

"At least turn yourself so you face me!" A quick shove and he was lying on his bloody back now, which was stinging like all hell.

Long and graceful, the blackish-red whip fell onto his chest. Tremors ripped through every nerve. A scream was not a good word for what came from him: it was a cry, a plead, full of anguish, agony in every moment. There was immediate cackling from Alecto as the action was completed several times over the course of the following fifteen minutes. Breathing became more complicated. It should be ridiculous to think that breathing had ever been taken for granted, but it had, and now Seamus was realizing that maybe breathing shouldn't be thought of so carelessly.

Gasping and almost sobbing, he dragged his aching body forward, in an attempt to stand up. Another cackle echoed around the tiny chamber. Amycus was getting a good laugh out of this one, watching him crawl like vermin across the floor. Hope had all but evaded Seamus. Getting out of here was going to be difficult. Everyone else was already getting treated or in their dorms treating themselves depending on who they were. Not a single soul would help such a horrible sight as him try and get anywhere, especially not at 6 at night, during dinner.

"Going somewhere?" A familiar pair of heavy black boots stood in front of the door.

"Y-ya…"

"Oh we got you good, Finnigan. We got you good, fag." Spit was emitted from the horrible mouth that said the last word like it was some sort of disease. "Why don't you tell us about your...secret little friend? I think it would do you some good...some therapy, maybe."

Alecto gave a snort, "Oh, he doesn't like talking about his emotions, you know that, Amy. His boyfriend isn't going to meet us for a long time; but when he does…"

Horrifying images swept across his mind. Dean, lying on the ground, tortured, spread out, staring into the sky with no sign of life on his face. The tall black man falling to the ground under the Cruciatus Curse. Amycus Carrow coming toward Dean with a look of absolute murder on his face, but Dean was shielding Seamus' body, and Seamus had the thought of "No-" before it was over. They would never touch Dean Thomas. With a cry of rage, he dragged his body upward and tried to throw Amycus against the wall. The Death Eater looked absolutely astounded.

"He does have fight in him, Al." It was the first time Amycus had ever sounded completely shocked.

"Only for the sake of his patheticness and his boyfriend, Amy…" Alecto let out a soft purr.

With another burst of movement trying to force the man further into the wall, he held Amycus' gaze with his own. There was not going to be any wrong thing said about Dean, not while he was around. Other reasons crowded into his brain in the moment, reasons past Dean that he was doing this, but right now, Dean was the focus.

"You d-don't say anythin' about Dean, n-not in front o-of me. Ever." Words were harder when you were wheezing and trying to force a full-grown man into the wall as your muscles failed you.

"At least he's honest, Amy," Alecto said from her position on the opposite end of the small room, "I mean, he's wrong of course. But he admits to having a boyfriend, even if that is dirty, and wrong, and makes him a fag."

Before anything else to avenge his loved one could be done, something hit him in the stomach, something sharp. Needle-pricks were sent all along his chest, nerves suddenly shouting out against the pain. He stared at Amycus who stood with his arm still out in front of him in the position it had gone into to attack. The sudden current of blood and pain weakened his knees once more so he was staring at the floor again, with his bleeding stomach and new wound soaking the floor. A knife. That was a new attack. The blade was still in him, it was still trying to kill him, he was going to die of blood-loss from a knife. Amycus let out a sigh as he pulled the knife roughly out of his gut, where it must have punctured at least twenty things.

"Such a shame, really. I hadn't intended to have Irish blood on it."

"Get him out." Alecto hissed.

The cold, hard floor, hit everything like hell as they threw his newly broken body out of the room. His shirt was torn to pieces and covered in blood, he also seemed to have picked up the habit of moaning lightly every few seconds. Every inch of pain was making his back arch against the cold stone floor-in a rebellious act he tried to claw at the floor as if it was the reason for his suffering.

Someone gave a loud scream-the halls were busy, evidently. Footsteps on the brick were heard, but things were growing fainter all around him. If death had been avoided last time, now it was really time to die. Blood loss had never come up before in his mind, usually he imagined the Killing Curse would be the way to go. It was preferably less painful. Or in his sleep.

Pain filled his eyes and he couldn't see much at all through the haze. People were coming now. Dinner had just been let out; the room had been near the Great Hall. Several gasps were heard as some rounded the corner, probably Hufflepuff students as that was the dorm that this corridor led to. Seamus gave a loud groan as something tried to lift him, finding the shirt of the person and desperately clinging to it, he gave another groan as they managed to pick him up. It was someone a lot taller and stronger. Maybe...Dean? The faint whisper of the forsaken name was only heard by the person carrying him. They said nothing to it.

There must have been a lot of blood again. Blood was starting to become his greatest fear and his worst enemy.


"Oh...Seamus…" He stumbled forward a bit, giving a look at Ginny. Her eyes were wide.

"It's nothing." Giving a small wheeze, he collapsed into the chair.

Days of being in the hospital wing had not prepared him for the return. It was December now. No one should still be worried about him-everyone should have been on the topic of Christmas, since it wasn't too far away. Yet everyone was pointing and staring again, but this time less were with cruel looks and instead replaced with sympathetic smiles. Some even came up to have a short conversation. That had been his first time back out in the halls. He couldn't believe he was the worst off of them all. Ginny looked pretty bad, as did Neville. He hadn't seen Luna yet, but from what they'd said, it had been something along the lines of Neville's beating for her. That meant that at least she was still alive.

After a week once more-and a few days-in the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey had almost been reluctant to let her patient go. Sure, maybe not everything was completely healed. But something told Seamus that not everything would ever be healed. The wound in his stomach was slowly recovering, it was worse than any of the whip marks that were soon to become scars. It was deep, as Madame Pomfrey had said, and would take a few days to completely clear up. Every medication in the hospital wing must have been used on him though, because he had felt completely drugged for days on end.

"It's not nothing, you're...almost dead again, Seamus." She looked pretty cautious of her own body as well: she was carrying herself painfully upright. "I don't get how you manage to get them all fired up."
Giving a small shrug, he stood up again, preparing for the walk up to the dorm, "I say what I wan' them not to hear. Ought to give it a try sometime."

An indignant huff was all he heard from behind him. From what he'd heard from Ron for years on end, Ginny was apparently growing to be a lot like her own mother.


The darkness of an unknown abyss opened before his trembling body. A shout of rage was heard from the other side of the opening. Dread crept up the small of his back as he looked down into it-and then he was falling. Falling through the air, into the pit, into the darkness where people screamed his name and someone who was angry at him was shouting at the top of their lungs. Calling him all sorts of horrible names, taking jabs at him by telling him how worthless this all was, that his lover was already dead, that he was better off dead.

A feeling of depression had settled into his mind, he was flailing about; but it wouldn't last long. There was no fight in giving up and giving in. Simply floating and listening to the comments that were true, of course, about himself, about his desires, wasn't so bad. Someone else started calling to him over the hideous streams of words from the unknown enraged being, someone much more concerned sounding calling his name. Giving a moan he tried to reach out to them but met with nothing but black air. The voice was coming from above him now-

"SEAMUS!" With a hard shove, he jolted awake. Neville stood above him, pure distress on his beaten face.

"Wh…"

"You were flailing...and screaming...and I think you might've torn a few of the cuts on your chest and back again…" Neville's brown eyes flitted to his uncovered chest, and Seamus looked down at the new blood that covered it. "I thought I might need to wake you up. What happened to your bandages, Seamus?"

Giving a sigh of resignation, he looked back up at the ceiling, "I took them off. Too itchy, Neville. Not gonna deal with that now, 'm I?" A smirk wasn't working on Neville.

"You have to leave them on."

"What time 's it?"

"About 7."

There was a shot of pain as he sat up, and he grimaced, which didn't go unnoticed. Throwing the covers back, Seamus stood up, gingerly making his way over to the dresser where a roll of bandages sat. In a moment's notice, Neville had come up to him and was applying the roll himself, wrapping it around and around until it was covering the entirety of Seamus' chest again. Only a small amount of relief could be gained from tightening it and stopping blood flow. It was a bit like being a mummy.

"Suppose you should get dressed."

"Perhaps." He moved to his clothing, ignoring Neville.

"There's a D.A. meeting tonight. I expect you'll want to come," his roommate sounded a bit resigned, "everyone's wondering if we'll be able to drag ourselves to the room or not. You especially."

"I got the worst, I get it, Nev. You don't need to rub it in any longer. People have been staring at me while I stumble and fall and then have to pull myself upright again despite the pain to get myself standin' again. All week long. The Carrows have already both mentioned me situation 'least twice in the past few days. You act like it's surprising, when really, you know that it's not. Anyone like me is gonna get this treatment, Neville." The sudden anger in his stomach was alarming, but it felt good. "I don't know why I thought any of this would be a good idea, but I did. We gotta have hope, Neville. I put all of mine into me explosions. And the silly notion that maybe things will be alright one day. I know you have the same feelings. Yet look where it got me."
Still steaming, he left the room and a speechless Neville Longbottom behind him. It was tough work getting down the stairs still, but he did it, and in record time at that point as well. People were gathered in a few seats down in the common room. Not a single one glanced at him. Relief, which was short lived, flooded into his mind. They always stared. Some people even stood up, as if they thought they might help. Or a few would whisper and point. After a week of this, it seemed most of the students had gotten bored with the whispering and the pointing and were reduced to the staring.

Tears built in his throat, the type where if he had been talking, they would have had to be forced back down. A few managed to squeeze past his notice and into his eyes. These escapees were quickly wiped away. The Great Hall seemed almost menacing, but he went in. For the first time in a while, the sun was shining, but the hall itself felt cold. It was a completely different place now. It was getting to a point where it was almost as unrecognizable as Seamus was to himself in the mirror.

People didn't talk anymore. The quiet conversations a few had ever dared to have were dead, gone forever. If a single person dared turn their head to their neighbors, Alecto would let out a little throat clearing or Amycus would raise his head from his plate. Even Snape would go stiff, and then it would stop. Morning conversations were not a need for life, as the Carrows had made sure of. The others of the staff went along with it to save their students' skins, but they didn't like it anymore than any of these kids did.

The changes had happened so slowly. But they had happened. Seamus feared what the holidays would be like, since he definitely wasn't going home. How much else could Hogwarts drag down into its immense fear that was growing like the bottomless pit in his dream?


"It's been a little while since our last meeting, I know," Luna was saying from the front of the room, sitting on a pile of books, wide eyes staring at them all, "but I was hoping we would all get to talk a little bit when we did."

Awkward moments followed. A few kids played with their robes or their feet. Seamus kept his face forward, not wanting to make eye contact with a single person in here. Some were beaten themselves and were also avoiding eye contact with any who hadn't been.

The trouble was that not everyone had been caught, and there were quite a few who were feeling absolutely horrible about it. Now the guilt and the anger and the pain had joined into one room, and it was creating a tornado of terror.

"So...would anyone like to say anything?" The blonde girl looked around expectantly.

"That kid did not deserve to be caught. I hope none of you are blaming him. If you are, you should feel ashamed of yourself." Neville spoke up, his face turning toward everyone. Seamus caught the other boy shooting a grateful look towards Luna-and also caught the small, hesitant smile she sent Neville in return. Taking the opportunity of that tender moment, he jumped into the conversation for a brief word at least.

Seamus gave a nod, "First years are not going to be blamed, ever. Ya got that?"

Some people sent him a knowing look while everyone gave a nod. Indeed, perhaps they had all figured out that he had seen something akin to Dean in Daniel. It didn't surprise him at all. What he said was a truth that most of them held anyways. First years didn't know any better a lot of the time, and it had been a complete accident that the kid had gotten caught. The topic was left there, not picked up again at all. In fact, a silence full of more shuffling around was held for a good five minutes before someone else dared to speak up.

"I'm sorry." Lavender Brown met all of their eyes with her own. She, as far as he knew, had not been caught, though part of the endeavor. "I'm sorry. I wasn't caught with you guys. I shouldn't have left you out there. I should have gone here."

"So am I." Goldstein had stood up, "I shouldn't have let any of you do that. We shouldn't have. Or at least, we should have taken some responsibility."

"You wouldn't have stopped us." The look on Michael Corner's face was one of utter disbelief-and he had been one of the lucky students to have gotten only a fair amount of beating-and confusion, "We were going to do this and we did."

"But-but Seamus almost died," Lavender stuttered, "and it's not as if Neville got much better. We should have been stopped, Anthony's right."

Some students looked like they agreed with Lavender and Anthony, but the other few were still looking around as if they didn't know what to make of it. Seamus didn't, he didn't want to be dragged into this by some other student. If anyone was going to make him a part of this discussion, it would be himself. Standing up-and almost falling back down as his knife wound throbbed painfully, which did not go unnoticed-he cleared his throat a little bit, staring at all of them.

"It was me idea." Ginny looked like she was about to disagree, or murder him, or maybe both. "'M the one to blame. I led you all to this. But before you get to telling me that this shouldn't have been done, listen. We gotta stop these tortures somehow. Attacking while they are happening is our best bet. Ya don't know what is going to happen, but once you've done it, it feels really good. I sat on a bed and laughed for a good five minutes once we got back here. The students with detention need someone to protect 'em."

"You cackled like a madman for almost ten minutes straight, Seamus. I don't believe that qualifies as 'feeling good'. You sounded absolutely mad." Parvati's eyes betrayed her words, he could tell she had felt good about it after doing the procedure too.

"Madness comes with this, I 'ppose." He didn't clarify what "this" was but for some reason, he had the feeling everyone knew. At this point, it wasn't worth caring about. He gave a small flinch as the knife wound acted up again.

Not one person stood up after that. Maybe most of them were realizing what he'd said was pretty much true. Or maybe they still thought he was insane. A hum went across the room as everyone breathed out at once, frustrations going out with it. Neville took to the front and began talking about something or other, how they'd have one more meeting before the holidays and how he hoped everyone stayed moderately safe. Seamus, meanwhile, was reflecting on what the word "safe" meant to him at this point, if it meant anything at all.


Death was starting to take on a whole new meaning. As soon as the D.A. had made up and most were feeling okay about having meetings and such for coming days, before the holidays started, they were more attentive to the program, Potterwatch. Everyone always wanted to listen to it. For some reason it offered some new hope, that there were still rebels out there like them. It might as well have been a sign from the adults that they weren't alone. Seamus liked to think of it that way as much as all of them did. No adult would even begin to grasp at what they had all been through, but the teenagers were able to grasp at what the adults were going through.

Fred Weasley was the other student they had all recognized within the second time of listening in. At first it had been a debate between him and George, but then Ginny had clarified that it was Fred and everyone had been put at ease. He was using the code name "Rapier", while Lee Jordan stuck with "River". Another man, "Royal", had been identified as Kingsley Shacklebolt; by Ginny as well.

They were now seated around the Room of Requirement once more, having only just finished up the last meeting before Christmas. Seamus had slung his body over on a couch-it was still in immense pain and the knife wound was constantly threatening to be opened up again. With a slight bit of movement, he would feel it cry out. Madame Pomfrey said that was the feeling of it "healing" but if that was what healing felt like, he'd rather be in constant pain and never healing.

"Welcome one and all to our Friday edition of Potterwatch. This is your correspondent, chief, and main entertainer, River," Lee's voice rolled over the radio that sat in the middle of the room, "I will first address our missing members of the Wizarding Community of the past two weeks."

Feeling everything tense up in his body once more, as it had last time and the time before that when the list began, Seamus turned his head more toward the center. He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to hear every name. At the same time, every nerve in his body begged him to listen closely. A few people were watching him as they had every time. Most people were apparently scared of what would happen to him if the name that was most feared came on in the list. Seamus, the first time he'd heard that they were concerned, tried to feel angry, but mostly he was scared himself. Because he wasn't sure what he'd do if that name was listed.

But it wasn't yet again, and they were safe for at least a little while.

"We hope that the friends and families of these people are safe and careful, and give them our condolences." River finished out. "Now to turn to our pal, Royal, on the field. What news have you got about the Muggle world and our darling Ministry, Royal?"
"It appears that the Prime Minister of England is aware of the death toll," the daily Muggle report began, and Seamus allowed himself to tune it out.

The rest of the report went by quickly, and then it was time for Romulus's segment, who was their old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin. Seamus had always thought that Lupin was the best teacher they'd ever had for the subject, and most of his fellow seventh years appeared to as well, with the way they straightened up and really listened when he came on. Something about Remus Lupin was rather endearing, it was hard not to listen to him anyways.

"I have brought some interesting information that has been retrieved from that old castle, Hogwarts itself." A prickle went up his spine as Lupin spoke, and he looked over to see everyone was staring at everyone. "For our "Pals of Potter" talk today, I thought it might interest you lot to hear about some of his old classmates."

"We did make some jokes in the past about Hogwarts and the lovely new snake that is keeping watch over the school, but before Romulus continues, I'd like to say that those were merely jokes and what we have today is something different. Continue, Romulus." River's voice cut in. Seamus turned to look at the three leaders, and noticed instantly that Ginny was sitting completely straight and didn't look as scared as everyone felt. She'd done something.

"As I was saying, his fellow students sent in some things a week ago. I will not name them exactly, but one "Morgan" sent them in," every eye was now watching Ginny, as it was commonly known that her Patronus was in fact, a horse, and a Morgan horse, to be exact, "and what is about to be disclosed is something rather unheard of.

'It appears that there is a society in Hogwarts that has been formed out of students who dare to take a stand. They call themselves the "D.A.", and have currently been trying to help all of the students there in Hogwarts out. It appears that there are worse things happening in Hogwarts than expected-"

Someone let out a "Bloody hell!", causing nearly everyone to jump. Seamus looked around to see Ernie Macmillan standing up, staring at Ginny. Romulus was saying something about "this must be kept secret" or something of the sort as Ginny stood up to face Ernie.

"I did it because they needed to know that someone here is standing with Harry still." She had beaten Macmillan to the words, the boy was staring at her with his mouth still open. "Now I'd like to hear what they managed to put in there. I didn't include everything. I've told them the basics."

"They would like everyone out there to know that they are fighting within the walls of Hogwarts. Or rather, their confinement. I did not receive anything other than this, but it is with a hopeful eye that we turn to our youth. They are fighting for those who could not themselves, and they are fighting with Potter." Shivers ran down his spine, Ginny had taken some of what he'd said himself and put it into different words, but it was still the same. "Those who could not themselves" translated directly in his mind to "those running away-Dean". He shot Ginny an appreciative glance.

"That ends our 'Pals of Potter' segment for tonight. Thank you very much, Romulus, for those wise words from some fellow rebels. Remember folks, you could be doing so much more if you stood up for what's right." Even Lee sounded sincere.

Any other part was instantly ignored as whispers were being spread through the room. They consisted mostly of disbelief, someone had done that for them, Ginny had dared to do that and write to these people. She had taken a step most of them were pretty sure was dangerous. Seamus was more grateful than any of them, he was sure of that. As dangerous as it had been...it was all worth it.

Even when the radio had shut itself off due to the loud din that was happening amongst the students, and even when Ginny stood up and explained herself, even when everyone agreed that it was incognito enough and started leaving. Even when he left himself, shaking Ginny's hand, watching the rekindled fire in her eyes as she nodded while he thanked her, Seamus could not shake off the feeling of regret that he hadn't taken that action himself.


Christmas morning was as bleary a morning as there had been in ages. Sitting up in the bed, Seamus gave a grunt as something in his back popped. It was still the holidays. Hell, it was only just Christmas. The snow was emphasizing that fact very well: piled high on the windows and on the grounds of the school where few were still roaming. Many students had gone home for the weeks off, even though the Carrows had been clear that going home meant not telling anything of what was going on here. Everything was secret, if you told someone else about the occurrences, the Carrows would probably murder you. Without friends around, Seamus had nearly died of boredom for the past few days.

Neville was gone home as well, his empty bed told all. The firewhiskey bottles next to the bed on which he was sitting startled him for a moment, before Seamus remembered. Remembered it all. The way he'd taken them from the kitchens as the house elves quietly bustled around and handed him a few bottles, which he'd soon drunk all of. As if the memories weren't enough, the pounding headache was taking away all cognitive thought from his mind. Nicely hungover, he was. And probably a sight to see, judging from the way his eyes weren't really willing to open.

Getting full-on drunk on Christmas Eve was the worst idea ever. But it had felt so good. Every emotion of pain had been gone for a short time, and a few had been poured out not with the whiskey but on paper-oh! The paper and quill still sat on the side table. It looked like the ink had been knocked over and was covering most of the floor now.

With a sigh, he uttered a cleaning charm and set the bottle back upright, the movements painful to his drunken nerves and headache. Taking up the piece of paper, he had to stare at it for a few moments before the writing took on any form of letters. The whole thing was a mess. Words ran across it. As his mind slowly adjusted, he took them in, with a growing horror and sadness.

Love….

It takes away the PAIN it's still there it's not leaving help me

just what i wanted

Like a leaf...river...

The words echoed around the already jarred thoughts he was having. Most of it was horribly written and not at all legible. What was read of misery. Everything had been put into that piece of paper. Crumpling it up and throwing it away was the best idea. There wasn't anything to do with it after that.

Not a single present lay by his bedside like it always had. No one had thought of him. His own mother turned against him so much that she didn't care what he did with his holidays-and it appeared his father had gone right along with her. It didn't succeed in making any sort of empty feeling go away. But it didn't make it worse. Seamus wondered what was going to become of him, rotting away in the school, beaten and torn to the point of death. Bored out of his mind as well, and all because of one stupid thing called 'love'. If love was so wonderful, then why did it hurt? Seamus had hurt so much ever since his love had been fully formed, and it seemed like it wasn't going to stop.

After a sigh and a glance around, he pulled himself off the bed, changed, and left. The few people that were in the common room didn't even glance at him as he walked slowly by. Pushing open the portrait and climbing through the hole, the feeling of dreariness returned. The whole school seemed to be mourning itself.

Festivities of the holiday were banned by the Carrows. There was a new rule in place about not listening to the radio-all radios were supposed to be turned into them and probably destroyed. Seamus wasn't excited about the day he had to break that one to the D.A., even though he had made sure the radio they owned was safely in the Room of Requirement. Any sort of decor was nonexistent, the Great Hall didn't have Christmas trees or any sort of silver lining any of its walls.

People sat in their small clumps, eating slowly, talking very quietly. For the first time in a while, students were allowed to talk during breakfast. Snape had told them that it was because there was less noise-but everything was to be done at a low volume. Some of the teachers looked disgruntled by the unusual silence during Christmas morning, not that anyone could blame them. Professor McGonagall looked about ready to murder Snape or the Carrows right then and there. That was probably something to do with the fact that it had never been this way, not in recent history or memory, and McGonagall was a bit of a stickler for traditions sometimes.

Without friends or presents to entertain himself with-Ginny and Luna had also gone home-, there wasn't an actual holiday. Seamus moped around the dorm room, arguing with himself about the cost of getting more firewhiskey from the elves, but knowing the headache wasn't worth it. And Dean wouldn't want him to be drinking. If Dean were here things would be a lot different. Things would be severely different. Seamus ached for that difference, he ached for Dean, all day long and into the night. It wasn't even surprising when even his dreams were spent screaming for Dean into a long darkness that threatened to crush him.