Seamus headed straight for the woods behind the house, but it was a moment before he realized that he was walking alone. He turned to see Dean hesitating on the edge of the woods, and he looked at him questioningly.
"Aren't you coming?" he asked. "It's a nice place to walk," he added. "Quiet. Peaceful."
Dean seemed to shake himself from some sort of waking nightmare.
"Sure," he said quickly, and then he was walking beside Seamus again. Neither of them spoke, but Dean was radiating tension, and Shay finally stopped in the middle of the path.
"If it's bothering you, we can go back," he said, gritting his teeth to keep the irritation from his voice, but it was hard. He couldn't stop thinking that Dean just didn't want to talk to him, and this was how it manifesting itself this time. But Dean shook his head, his expression pained.
"It's not what you're thinking," he said quickly. He shifted uncomfortably, and Shay couldn't help but notice that he'd moved so his back was to a tree. "It's just… well, the last time I was in a place like this, it wasn't… it wasn't quiet. Or peaceful. I'm sorry, Shay. This isn't your fault. Can we just – can we stay here? I can – at least I can see the house …"
He trailed off, unable to look at Seamus, afraid of what he might see in his eyes, but Shay reached out then to touch Dean's shoulder, and now they looked at one another, and Dean relaxed at the understanding he saw in Seamus's eyes.
"Sure," Shay said quietly, dropping to sit, his back to the tree as well.
For a little while, neither of them said anything, and then Dean cleared his throat.
"It wasn't, you know. Peaceful. It was scary most of the time. I was – I was pretty lucky to find people to move with."
Shay nodded slightly, listening. He was afraid to say a word, afraid that one wrong one would stop Dean from saying more, but Dean kept talking, describing how Ted Tonks had helped him, telling him the stories that he'd learned about Remus and Tonks. Shay started to understand why Dean was so upset about Professor Lupin.
For a long time, Dean talked about the nights in the forest hiding with Griphook and Ted Tonks, but he started to trail off when he mentioned the night they'd gotten captured. Seamus had turned to watch him while he spoke, but now he noticed that a muscle in Dean's jaw had clenched, and he looked away.
"It was awful," Dean said hoarsely. "He knew what would happen to him, but he told me to go on anyway. Shay … I never wanted to leave him there." He almost sounded as if he were pleading with Seamus to believe him, and as much as he didn't want to turn now, Seamus knew he had no choice. Carefully, he turned to face his friend, and he wasn't surprised to see Dean's eyes full of misery and – it seemed like fear? But what was he afraid of now?
Seamus clasped his shoulder.
"Of course you didn't want to leave him," he said as soothingly as he could manage. "Anyone who knows you knows that. He told you to go, and you did what he told you. It was war times, Dean. Different rules – different rules apply."
He choked on the words. He knew it, and he was pretty sure Dean did, too, because for a long time, the two lapsed into silence. It was only broken when Dean cleared his throat.
"So how about you? How was your year? I heard a bit about the different rules at Hogwarts this year…"
Seamus stiffened, but when he looked at Dean and saw the complete lack of suspicion in his eyes, he relaxed slightly. He shook his head, and his lips twisted into a bitter smile.
"Different rules is one way of putting it," he muttered, his voice harsher than either of them expected. "I know – I know Harry says Snape was good all along, but if that's his definition of good… well, I wish he'd been at Hogwarts this year to see what it was like with Snape as Headmaster. He might – he might not be so quick to believe him."
Dean watched Shay, his mouth open slightly. It'd been years since he'd heard him criticize Harry, and even when he'd done it the first time, it had never been with this kind of venom. But even Seamus seemed to realize how he sounded, and he flushed.
"I know it's not Harry's fault," he said more quietly. "And I guess – I guess Snape wasn't the one actually enforcing these rules. He – he left that to the Carrows."
A small shudder coursed through him when he said the name, but when Dean reached out to touch his shoulder, Seamus automatically shrank away. Slowly, Dean moved his hand back, but Seamus continued to talk as though nothing had happened, though his ears had reddened slightly.
"And the Carrows… well, they left a lot of their punishments in the hands of the Slytherins. I can't be sad that Crabbe is dead." He looked at Dean now, and in spite of the defiance he was trying to project, Dean saw the tiniest hint of fear in his eyes. He spoke to it.
"That doesn't make you a bad person," he tried to say reassuringly, but Shay shook his head.
"I know that," he said, his voice tinged with impatience. He glanced at Dean once more but then seemed to make up his mind about something, and he sighed.
"Why didn't you want to go home?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject. "Did you and your mum have a row or something about you not going back to school last year?"
Dean jerked back slightly. This was an unwelcome turn, and he forced himself to breathe evenly. Seamus didn't know what he was asking. This couldn't be deliberate.
"Yes," he lied. "She – she wasn't happy about it. She thought – thought it'd be fine if I went back because she didn't know the whole of it, being a Muggle and all, so …"
He trailed off. He was remembering, much against his will, the look on his mother's face when he'd found that photo, and he swallowed hard. He knew that Seamus was looking at him curiously now, though, so he tried to seem calm.
"I wish we hadn't fought," he finally admitted, feeling at last as though he were telling the truth but knowing that there was so much more truth that he wouldn't say now. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell Seamus. It was that he didn't know how.
Seamus sighed and leaned back on his elbows.
"It was quite a year," he muttered darkly. "Can't say I'm sorry it's over."
Dean nodded. "Same," he mumbled.
It couldn't have been clearer to each of them that there was so much the other wasn't saying.
For what seemed like an endless stretch of time, Dean and Shay spent hours either walking through Belfast or visiting Harry and Ron. They didn't talk much, but the tension, at least, seemed to be dissipating. One morning while they were eating cereal, two owls swooped in through the window, depositing letters in front of both of them.
For a moment, nobody spoke, and then Mrs. Finnigan said brightly, "Well, I guess this means the school year's approaching." Her smile faltered, and she asked, "Aren't you boys going to open those?"
Her voice held a tinge of nervousness because once the owls had flown from the room, it seemed as if both Dean and Seamus had been turned to stone.
Mr. and Mrs. Finnigan looked at each other in confusion.
"Boys?" Mr. Finnigan said. "The letters?"
Now Shay looked up with a start. "Oh… oh, yeah," he said as if he were coming out of a daze. He looked down at the Hogwarts seal again and tried to repress the involuntary shudder that coursed through him. Suddenly, decisively, he ripped the envelope open.
Dean stirred at the noise and looked at Shay for a moment before sighing inaudibly and opening his own letter.
After a few minutes, Seamus said woodenly, "They're giving me a chance to redo my seventh year. Take NEWTs if I want to. You know – learn all the things I didn't last year."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? My letter just welcomes me to my seventh year. Again. It's like they want to pretend last year never happened since I wasn't there."
For a long time, the two of them looked at each other, and then Mrs. Finnigan said, "Well, you're both going to do it, right? You're going back?"
Seamus shook his head slowly, but as his mother looked at him in surprise, he shook it faster.
"No." It was all he said, but all three of them looked at him then. His voice had gone up at least four octaves, and he was trembling. Before anyone could ask another question, he reached for his juice glass and took a long gulp. Slamming the glass back on the table, he turned to Dean and asked, "Are you?"
Dean sighed again. "I – I guess? I think my mom – my – my parents – would want me to..."
He knew Seamus was looking at him, his brow furrowed, but he avoided his eyes as he shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
The silence stretched uncomfortably until Seamus shoved his chair back from the table. Without a word, Dean followed suit, and soon they were gone again, leaving Seamus's parents alone at the table.
Mrs. Finnigan cleared her throat, and her husband looked at her and saw the pain in her eyes.
"I know," he whispered. He shook his head. "I still don't think he's going to talk, but…"
His wife looked at him tearfully. "You have to try," she said, pressing her hand to her mouth.
"I have to try," he repeated. He nodded at her and reached across the table to take her hand. "I know."
"He's not going back," she said faintly, and he shook his head.
"No, he's not. And I think this is going to have to be one of those times when we respect his decision. I don't – I don't think we have a choice."
As if by mutual consent, Dean and Seamus spent the rest of the day lounging around the house, not talking much at all. After dinner, which was full of stilted conversation about Quidditch and the weather, both boys went directly to their rooms. Shay intended to read, but he found himself yawning, and he tossed the Daily Prophet to the floor. Reaching for his wand, he dimmed all the lights, leaving only the small nightlight by the door glowing.
He sighed as he settled into the bed, but as his eyes drifted closed, he was suddenly in the dim, stone hallway, the Room of Requirement before him.
I just have to make it a few more feet, he thought as he raced along the corridor. I'm almost there.
But he never made it. Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and shoved him against the wall.
"Going somewhere, Finnigan?" a harsh voice hissed in his ear, and Seamus found he couldn't even open his mouth to respond as his entire body froze in terror. It didn't matter, though. Nothing he said mattered at all.
Gasping for breath, Seamus's eyes flew open. He looked around his room in a panic and, grabbing his wand, he nearly sobbed "Lumos," as he quickly turned on every light.
"I'm home," he whispered. "I'm – I'm ok. I'm home."
But he didn't even believe himself. He rolled over and crushed his pillow to him. No matter how many times he repeated it, he knew it wasn't true. He wasn't ok now, and he wasn't ok then.
He was wide awake for the rest of the night. He couldn't close his eyes. He couldn't relax at all.
A/N: Thanks, Muse.
