Chapter 9: Fifth Year - Part III

Before he'd left for the holidays, Dean had thought he might not even want to come back to school given that it would mean leaving his family. The situation with Ron's dad, of which somehow the papers had gotten a hold of and vaguely detailed as being an 'incident at the Ministry' yet had somehow wound him up in hospital, made Dean all the more aware of the fragility of his own family. Of how in an instant anything could happen to them and he might not even be present to realise it.

So Dean spent the entire break with his family. With his mum as she took herself to each of their cousins' houses for lunch as was typical of them. With Andrew as he idled most of Christmas day in the kitchen, ensuring that his roast didn't dry out and that there were enough baked potatoes to feed a small army. With Millie as she asked him to help with her traditional wall repaint repaint and Keira with the new gaming device called a Playstation that she'd gotten for a gift. With June too, who was chewing her way through an impressive pile of books at a rapid rate yet for some reason still requested he read with her aloud. Or listened, more correctly, for though she always spoke in quiet words June seemed love the sound of her own voice.

Dean loved his family and he worried about them. He worried even more after Harry's proclamation the previous year about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and more still after what had happened with Ron. And he liked their company, of his parents and sisters. He truly did.

And yet even so, by the end of the Christmas break Dean was more than happy – relieved, even – to get away from them. Maybe it was simply that boarding school life was rubbing off on him but he was certainly happy enough to return to Hogwarts.

Alone, as he would have it, for apparently Seamus was already back. Dean wasn't sure whether to be concerned for that fact or not; Seamus had seemed chirpy enough in the letters they'd exchanged pertaining to Christmas and that very fact, but then Dean had also been vastly ignorant the previous summer when Seamus was deliberately hiding the explosion that had happened at his house.

As it happened, however, when Dean started up the hill from the carriages after alighting from the train, the chill winter air bitingly sharp and his only accompaniment a puff of pale smoke that erupted from his own mouth with every breath, it was to have Seamus present himself before him. Or more correctly for Dean to notice him immediately, as it was impossible not to. Seamus was loud, raucous even, and no one with a pair of ears to hear with would have been able to miss him.

"You've got shit aim, Ernie! Were you even aiming for me, like, or did you mean to hit that tree on purpose?"

Halfway up the slope towards the school, Dean paused in step. His gaze was drawn to a clutch of half a dozen of his fellow students as they tore across the grounds. Dean saw Seamus and Wayne, Susan and Hannah, and a pair of other Hufflepuffs that he rarely conversed with – Ernie MacMillan was a stuck up twat and Megan Jones was so aloof that Dean had thought her something of a cow for until Hannah had informed him that she was actually a very nice person, if a little detached.

They appeared to be engaged in a somewhat violent snowball fight. Or at least violent on part of Seamus, Ernie and Susan, the latter of which had almost eerily accurate aim. Wayne, Hannah and Megan appeared to be more correctly the subjects of their target practice than competitors. Or at least Dean thought as much until Ernie lobbed a snowball at Seamus' head and Seamus seemed to take it as a personal insult.

In instant retaliation, he was launching himself across the distance between them and tackling Ernie to the ground in a heap that set the rest of them barking into cackles of laughter. Ernie was on his feet and chasing after a suddenly fleeing Seamus an instant later, only for the tides to turn when Seamus managed to scoop a snowball together and spin threateningly with a wide grin.

Dean found himself smiling. He hadn't had a snowball fight all year, and abruptly he missed not making the time for one. Not only that but the sight of Seamus so comfortable with all of the Hufflepuffs was nice to witness; Dean had known that he was getting along with Wayne again – perhaps very well – and had even mentioned speaking to Hannah and Susan once more on several occasions. Even so, Dean couldn't help but think they hadn't appeared to be truly friends until that moment.

It was satisfying. Dean really had missed the Hufflepuffs.

He hadn't realised he'd paused in step until Seamus, apparently catching sight of him, skidded to a stop and flung a hand into the air before lurching through the snow in Dean's direction. It was only luck that he missed one of Susan's ridiculously accurate snowballs, but he didn't even seemed to notice.

It should have been expected, but when Seamus flung himself at Dean he was unprepared enough that they actually toppled to the ground. Dean's breath gushed from his lungs as his back slammed into the ground, cushioned just barely by the ankle-deep snow. For his part, Seamus didn't seem to care about that, either.

"Perfect timing!" He exclaimed, pushing himself up off of Dean with his wide grin stretching brilliantly across his face. His cheeks were flushed from excitement and the cold, tufts of his sandy fringe poking from beneath his hat and eyes sparkling merrily. Dean wouldn't have been able to keep from smiling in return had he wanted to. "We've only just started, like, I think about an hour ago, so you can join in."

"Only just started an hour ago?" Dean said, sitting off as Seamus scrambled off him. "How is that perfect timing?"

"We've only just started is why."

Dean allowed himself to be hauled to his feet by Seamus' ready hand. It was a fierce tug, excessive even, as was typical of Seamus. He might be short – one of the shortest boys in their year in fact – but he had an unexpectedly strong arm. "Are you playing teams?" Dean asked.

"Nope. Free for all." Seamus started back towards the game that had continued in his absence, beckoning Dean after him. "Come on."

"Sure. I've just got to put my stuff up in the dorm," Dean said, reaching down to snatch up his slightly damp bags that had been flung to the ground by Seamus' ploughing enthusiasm.

Seamus paused in step, regarding him with a quirked eyebrow. "Just put a Drying Charm on it and leave it for later."

"Or I could just take it up to the dorms now," Dean said, smirking as he deliberately turned and continued back up to the school.

He didn't need to glance over his shoulder to see the pout Seamus wore. It was all in the words that followed after him. "You're such a stubborn jackass, like. Always so insistent." Then he raised his voice, apparently calling to the Hufflepuffs. "Just going to dump Dean's stuff, yeah? We'll be back in a minute."

Calls of acknowledgement and Ernie's shout of, "Yeah sure, you're running away, we all know it," followed them as they started up the hill. Dean didn't urge Seamus to stay behind and continue the game. He might call Dean stubborn, but when Seamus had his mind set on something it was just as unlikely that he be swayed from his decision.

Falling into step beside Dean, Seamus nudged him with an elbow as he stuck his hands into his pockets. "Good Christmas?" He asked.

Dean grinned. "Yeah, same as usual. Tell you what, though, it's good to be back at school."

"You take that back, Dean," Seamus chided with mock horror. "How could you say that?"

Laughing, Dean shook his head. "Well, if I had to read one more book with June or sit through another one of Keira's frankly terrible attempts at completing Rayman, I think I'd kill myself."

"Rayman?" Seamus asked curiously.

"She got a Playstation for Christmas."

Seamus nodded understandingly. He might not live in the Muggle world but his Muggle side of the family – though not as close as his Wizarding side – had always kept him in touch with it. A little bit, anyway. Dean doubted he knew all that much about Playstations. "The most important question, though, like: did she let you play it?"

"The bloody hide of her, you know she didn't," Dean said in mock mournfulness.

Seamus laughed. "See, this is why I don't have younger brothers or sisters."

"You know, I don't think it was really up to you if you had them or not."

"It bloody well was. Scared any future chits away when I was born, like."

Dean snorted. "You're so full of shit."

Seamus only grinned.

They continued their wandering in silence for a few steps before Dean, nagged by the increasingly persistent question that hung between them, caved and asked. "How about you?"

"How about me what?" Seamus said, though Dean knew he understood exactly what he referred to.

"Were you… how was your Christmas?"

Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was still angry with Seamus' family, still couldn't believe they could be so prejudiced as to think as they did, as to hurt Seamus as they did, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever overcome that. He wasn't sure if Seamus would ever get past it either, though Dean had grown to understand that he likely wanted to.

Seamus shrugged with a casualness that the awkward scratch to the side of his head bellied. Dean could read Seamus well enough to know when he was hiding his struggles. "It was actually pretty good, really."

Dean nearly paused in step in surprise and was proud of himself for how casual he kept his voice when he replied. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Seamus stuffed his hand back into his pockets, looking to his toes as they kicked at a clump of snow that hadn't been swept from the courtyard they began to cross. "I mean, after the first bit anyway. When Uncail Jack ran his mouth like the bastard he is on the first day, Eoghan said he'd had enough of it and we went to his place in London." Seamus shrugged. "Didn't see anyone else for the rest of the holidays 'cept me cousin who lives in Wales at the moment 'cause she's cool."

As Seamus bit off any further words, expression deceptively mild to the point of blanknes, Dean watched him from the corner of his eye. He didn't know what to say. Should he comfort him? It would be empty comfort, because Dean didn't feel as though reassuring Seamus that it was alright, that his family would come around, that things would get better, was truly on the table. Seamus' family didn't deserve that. They really were a bunch of bastards, and they didn't deserve the time Seamus spent mulling in regret for what he was.

Even so, Dean hated to see Seamus upset. He'd always hated it, whether Seamus was angry or, on lesser occasions, saddened. It just never seemed right.

"I'm sorry," Dean found himself saying, more because he didn't know what else to say than anything.

Seamus shrugged. With that shrug he seemed to thrust aside his regret, for he turned to Dean with a wide smile that was perhaps a little too wide. "'S alright. I had a blast with Eoghan and he's got a really nice place. Managed to get most of the holidays away from Hogwarts too, like, so that was pretty fantastic. We went and caught up with me cousin Caitlin too for a bit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Seamus nodded. "And she's alright. Really alright, actually. Like…" His smile became a little more genuine this time. "Really alright."

Dean understood that, even if Seamus didn't say it. He understood what that meant. Seamus' family might largely treat him like shit for what he was, for who he liked, but apparently not all of them thought the same way. Eoghan was different, for one. This Caitlin, too. Dean abruptly wished he could meet her, almost as much as he wanted to see Eoghan to simply tell him what an incredibly top bloke he was. It would take a lot to stand up to his family, even in defence of his brother, but Eoghan apparently did so without a second thought.

"That's great, Seam," Dean said, smiling warmly.

Seamus flashed him a smile, and it was just as warm. Heartfelt and, though sadness still touched his expression, he seemed lighter for it. Something had changed over the Christmas, and whether it was simple acceptance that his family were all, in Dean's opinion, assholes or simply Eoghan and Caitlin's support, he seemed better for it.

Then Seamus elbowed him almost viciously in the side and, leaping up the steps into Hogwarts' Entrance Hall, disappeared through the doors. "I'll race you to the Tower, Dean! Last one there loses a free shot to a snowball."

And that was that. Dean couldn't spare the moment to think about regrets, to consider the situation and wonder what else might have happened that Seamus would only possibly tell him about. He had a race to win because, amusing as Seamus found it, he didn't much fancy a snowball to the face.


With a flick of his finger, Seamus sent the galleon flipping into the air end over end before snatching at it once more. It was a ridiculously high flip, Dean acknowledged, watching as he once again flicked it into the coin air so that it soared halfway to the Entrance Hall ceiling as they passed through.

"Have you been practicing with that?" He asked amusedly.

Seamus only flashed him a grin, shrugged, and tossed it once more.

Dean wouldn't put it past him. Since he'd bitten his tongue, shoved aside the pain and embarrassment - and fear for undermining his mum - and apologised to Harry, since he'd started to come with Dean to the DA meetings, Seamus had barely had the coin out of his hand. Dean hadn't ever seen him so committed to something and thought it might have even been an attempt to make up for what he'd done. Except that Seamus didn't seem to need the validation. It seemed, if nothing else, to be entirely for himself.

The article in the Quibbler, a quirky magazine apparently run by one of the fourth year Ravenclaw girls from DA, seemed to have urged the Wizarding world to take a turn in their perspective of Harry. Angry scepticism shifted into thoughtful consideration, even curiosity when Harry happened to mention anything even vaguely pertaining to the political status of their world. It was driving Umbridge insane, and Dean considered that, if for nothing else, the article was worth it.

Seamus said it wasn't so much the article itself but who wrote it that mattered. Even Dean knew the name Rita Skeeter. He recalled her articles from the previous year, when she'd been apparently deliberately targeting Harry and those around him in search of a good story. She'd gotten one this time too, it would seem and it only made her more noticeable in the public eye. Which, given she was a gossip mongering journalist, was probably much to her delight.

For what it was worth, regardless of what Dean had heard Harry, Ron and Hermione - and Ginny too for that matter, as she seemed nothing if not loudly opinionated on the matter - the article made a difference. To the world and to Seamus, it would seem, who had been nothing if not relieved but a day later as he seemed to have reached a decision.

"It's that article," he explained when Dean had asked him about it. "At least now I can pretend that - I mean, now it might actually convince me mam that I'm..." He trailed off with an awkward shrug, but it hadn't quite dimmed the relief in his eyes that made them all but glow with relief. That very day he'd approached Harry about what he'd said earlier that year and apologised.

He claimed he'd had a change of heart. Dean wasn't fooled for a second, regardless of whether Seamus kept mum about the situation or not. The next DA meeting, without even asking if he wanted to come, Dean had dragged Seamus along with him. Seamus hadn't complained. He hadn't even mentioned the assumption on Dean's part. For once, Seamus didn't seem to have much to say on the matter.

Heading up to the seventh floor, Dean adopted a casual expression as they passed a clutch of Ravenclaws he recognised as being distinctly outside of the DA forces. It wasn't like they were pitting themselves against the rest of the school and its students, but everyone had unanimously agreed better to be safe than sorry. None of them knew who would be inclined to blab to a teacher. And by teacher, they all knew the feared toad Umbridge was the one who really concerned them. The 'questioning' that had been going on of late… it was troubling.

When the Ravenclaws had passed, Dean started down the adjacent corridor towards the portrait of the dancing trolls. He was just in time to catch the tail end of a pair of girls slipping into the Room of Requirement beyond. "Oh, Ginny, could you hold it for a sec?" He called.

Ginny, glancing over her shoulder towards him, smiled and paused in step. The blonde girl at her side - Luna, Dean remembered her name to be, the one whose dad ran the Quibbler - spared them a vague glance before continuing inside.

"Thanks," Dean said as he drew to her side, Seamus in step alongside to him.

"No problem," Ginny shrugged. Then she spared a glance for Seamus. Or, more correctly, a glance and another smile. "Hi, Seamus. How are you?"

Seamus smiled easily in reply. Quite aside from her apparent dislike - or at least disagreeability - of earlier in the school year, any discord between them seemed to have fizzled out until the both of them were more than friendly. Dean was relieved for that fact. He liked Ginny; it would have been a shame if their friendship had died for her antagonism with Seamus.

"Good good, Ginny," Seamus said. "I swear I'll get it corporeal today, like." Then his grin became almost challenging.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. She spared a brief wink at Dean as though they shared a joke. "Are you so sure of that?"

"Positive."

"You sound very confident in yourself."

"I've got a better memory to use than last time," Seamus said easily. "Besides, after making it once just normal, like, the shape part should come easier. Right?"

At that Ginny seemed to accept his argument with good humour. She'd certainly managed fast enough herself.

They were working on Patronuses at present - which was fantastic in Dean's opinion - and it was their third week running with it as the primary focus for the lessons. Not that it was the first they'd practiced Patronuses, for they'd touched upon it weeks ago. It wasn't like they would only focus on Patronuses, that was, for one meeting was never wholly committed to one task. Protego Charms were a bit of a favourite amongst the members as a whole, as well as duelling classes, though it was always a good idea to come prepared with a first aid kit.

Dean hadn't been able to manage his own corporeal Patronuses yet but it didn't bother him as much as it seemed to bother Seamus. Seamus had taken to everything the DA taught with a vengeance as though making up for lost time. Which he was, Dean thought, and was doing remarkably well considering he'd missed a whole term of their meetings. Unfortunately, where Seamus tried exceptionally hard to the point of competing with himself, Dean was naturally dragged along in his wake. The challenge Seamus had given him last meeting as to who would produce their Patronus charms first… Dean couldn't exactly pass that up, now, could he?

"I still can't believe you got your corporeal Patronus practically on your first try after making one at all," Seamus was saying, shaking his head.

Ginny pulled a face. "Hardly my first try. Merlin, I'm nowhere near as good as Harry is."

"Yeah, but he said he had a Dementor to pit himself against, right?"

"A Boggart," Dean corrected. "His Boggart's a Dementor, isn't it?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, that's what he said." She shuddered theatrically. "Imagine your Boggart being a Dementor. How horrible"

Dean and Seamus exchanged a glance. No one liked talking about their own Boggarts, but for Dean at least, and maybe even for Seamus, they'd reconciled themselves what their own meant to them. They were… comfortable, even. Accepting. Not that Dean would ever be happy to face one, that was.

Starting into the Room of Requirement, the familiar room of wide, open space, bookshelves packed full of books on Defensive Arts, the thick lining of pillows across the floor, it was to find it barely half full. As had become customary for them, Dean took himself alongside Seamus – and Ginny, which wasn't as routine but not unexpected either – to a corner to wait for the rest of the members. They chatted idly, Ginny even making a show of calling up her own Patronus; the gossamer cloud was quite a sight, even if she didn't quite manage a corporeal version of it.

As expected, and as anticipated from Ginny's words, when Harry stood before them all with Ron and Hermione at his side, it was to announce that they would be starting the lesson with a continuation of their Patronus practicing. "I know it's hard, guys, but really, when you get the hang of it –"

"It's fantastic," Hermione said, beaming. She'd produced her first Patronus weeks before and had been more than ready to share her experience. About what it felt like, about how comforting that protective glow was, even when faced with no apparent danger.

Harry spared her a nod before continuing. "Right. So remember, guys. Happy memories. If you'd feel better partnering up to help each other out, go for it."

Then they were off.

One of the best parts about their DA sessions – or at least in Dean's opinion – was their autonomy. Aside from the fact that they were actually learning how to defend themselves, that was. Umbridge was a stupid oaf for inhibiting their education, or more importantly their ability to learn protective charms for some misguided fear that they would truly become an army for Dumbledore. It made their choice of name seem even more appropriate.

Dean followed Seamus' lead across the room, waving farewell to Ginny as she departed in search of her own friends. When Seamus had apparently found 'his spot', he turned towards Dean and propped his hands on his hips as though preparing himself with stout determination. "Right. We're doing this today, like. Swear it."

"I swear," Dean said with mock seriousness, raising a hand as though standing testimony in a court of law. "Although, I think you should accept that you're going to lose our contest."

Seamus arched an eyebrow but before he could reply Susan appeared at his shoulder. She glanced between the two of them, eyes sparkling and grinning widely. "What's this, a competition? What's the stakes?"

Right behind her, Hannah stood alongside Wayne. Apparently, since Seamus had started with the DA, Wayne had deemed it 'okay' to do so himself. Dean tried very hard not to begrudge his behaviour; he liked Wayne, after all. Although… He supposed that Wayne's actions was fairly indicative of his relationship with Seamus restarting. Seamus hadn't spoken to Dean of anything of the sort, but he didn't need to.

They were close. Very close. Dean really wished he didn't get so jealous for that. What kind of a friend got jealous of their friend's boyfriend?

Seamus turned smile upon Susan. "We're going to see who can produce their corporeal Patronus first. Today. It's going to happen." He nodded sharply, entirely sure of himself.

"But haven't you not been able to make one yet?" Wayne asked curiously, staring at Seamus. The way he looked at him… Dean was a little embarrassed that he hadn't noticed it the previous year. Seamus hadn't mentioned that they'd gotten back together, it was true, and Dean hadn't seen any other visible evidence of intimacy, but surely it was undeniable by now. Surely.

The previous year, Dean had been almost as oblivious as Seamus seemed to be for the attention Wayne afforded him. Shrugging, Seamus shook his head. "No. But there's a first time for everything, right?" Then he turned to Hannah. "You've got yours, like, haven't you?"

Hannah smiled and flushed slightly, though it was more in satisfaction than embarrassment. "Yeah, I managed mine."

"It was a bird, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, a hummingbird." She sighed slightly, as though the thought alone satisfied.

Seamus turned his attention fully towards Hannah, pinning her with his gaze. Around them, their fellow DA members were already making their attempts. Dean could see several producing wispy spurts from their wand, lighting the room around them in a soft, white, but somehow warm glow. "So how did you do it, like? Is there some other kind of trick you can do to get it shaped into an animal?"

Hannah had all of their attention now. Susan in particular, Dean noticed, appeared as attentive as a doting student for her wide-eyed expression. She had a fierce desire to fully produce her Patronus. But Hannah only shook her head. "I don't think so. I think it just gets easier the more you practice it. Or maybe the happier the memory?"

Dean hadn't really expected anything else, and apparently neither had Wayne, who shrugged, nodded and offered an accepting smile. "Oh well. It doesn't surprise me that there's no knack to it. Practice makes perfect, right?"

"Have you ever just taken things for granted, Wayne?" Seamus asked, more curious than accusatory. "Like, think that maybe you might just be naturally good at something?"

Wayne shrugged. "Not really. But I don't mind."

"Yeah, but you're good at, like, chess."

"Not that good."

"And you have really neat handwriting."

"Oh, that's a skill now, is it?" Dean teased. He shot Wayne a smile to show his words weren't an insult.

Wayne, the nice bloke that he was who likely didn't think for a second that Dean had actually been insulting him anyway, smiled back instantly. "Yeah, and I'm pretty sure that gets better with practice too."

"Shut up, Wayne, I'm paying you a compliment," Seamus said. Then he drew his wand and turned to Dean. "Alright, let's do this. You're on, Thomas."

Dean only shook his head as he drew his own wand. Around him, Susan, Hannah and Wayne all set about beginning their practicing. Across the room there were a few more corporeal Patronuses springing to life alongside the clouds of white gossamer; a burly bear lumbering around a fourth year girl, a Marlin swimming through the air as though it was water, an otter turning flips and in the corner Ginny's horse tossing its head in a silent whinny.

They really were incredibly cool. Dean would admit that much, and heartily agreed with Susan's enthusiasm. Not only were they kind of beautiful but they provided protection against Dementors too. Dean hadn't had a whole lot to do with Dementors after their third year, and even then it had only been from a distance, but he could appreciate their menace for what it was. He'd rather have a defence ready, and if a corporeal Patronus was the strongest defence…

Closing his eyes, for it was always easier to visualise when they were closed, Dean turned his attention retrospectively. To the past. To soft thoughts and warm memories. He saw his mum grinning widely at him as she dabbed a finger of peanut butter on his nose. He relived the vague memory of his mum and Andrew dancing at their wedding, remembered realising that his mum was beautiful in her red and white dress even at that age and even as his mum. She'd looked so happy then that the sight of it had filled Dean with joy; even if he hadn't liked Andrew he would have loved him for how happy he made his mum.

He remembered his first goal in the football little leagues when he was eight, how it had been the best feeling in the world. He remembered when his youngest sister was born, when he'd been old enough to really understand what that meant, and how incredibly ugly yet utterly beautiful she'd been. He remembered when his mum had first begun the tradition of letting them repaint the murals on their bedroom walls every year and how Dean had been so proud of the underwater depiction he'd first made. His mum had photographs of every year hanging in their hallway.

Images of friends, of family, or moments – of when Dean had first gotten his Hogwarts letter how excited he'd been, when he'd bought his wand and realised that it was actually really real, when he'd seen Hogwarts itself for the first time. As the warmth of joy and fondness flooded through him, Dean thought of his friends, of their returning nights back at the school when they stayed up late swapping jokes, holiday stories and pilfered sweets. Harry and Ron, Neville even, Seamus sitting at his side and bellowing with great, belly laughs. Seamus had an infectious laugh.

At the thought of it, Dean couldn't help but open his eyes and glance towards where Seamus stood, already conjuring the pale wisps of a Patronus. Ginny's horse darted past, chased by what looked like a terrier, but Dean hardly saw it. He was happy, a truly wonderful feeling that he'd realised was just one of the benefits of attempting a Patronus. Dean knew it wouldn't be like this in a fight, in a situation when he really needed it, but for now it felt wonderful.

He raised his wand and spoke. "Expecto Patronum."

White light erupted from the end of his wand, slow at first and then in a flood of brightness. It uncurled, unfurled and spread. It widened into the now familiar shield that Dean had seen numerous times, and then… then it shifted.

A long neck.

A straight, protruding beak.

Feathered wings spreading and sweeping in a wide beat.

It was beautiful. Not what Dean would have considered for himself, but it was. All Paronuses were, but this was his.

I wouldn't have guessed a swan but…

"Oh, that's beautiful," Susan said at his side. Dean glanced towards her, to where her own wand was raised and the tendrils of her Patronus fading with her distraction. Dean grinned. "Thanks."

Susan smiled back, then gestured with her wand. "Sorry about that."

"About what?" Dean asked, glancing back to his Patronus. Only to see it fading for his own distraction. "Oh. Oh, well…" He shrugged easily and couldn't shake his smile. He'd done it. He'd actually made it. And it was, if unexpected, absolutely wonderful. "That's okay. I still managed it, right?" And then, with a smirk, "You'll be my witness with Seamus, won't you?"

Susan chuckled but nodded all the same. "Yeah, sure. I'll be your witness. That was gorgeous, so you deserve a victory."

Dean was entirely self-satisfied – actually quite proud of himself – until he turned to Seamus with the reflexive urge to exclaim his victory. Words died on his tongue, however, as barely three feet away from him with his back to Dean, Seamus had his own wand raised. His own Patronus glowing white. His own…

It was a fox. That much Dean could make out as it leapt around Seamus like a child bounding around their parent. Dean felt a different kind of smile settle on his face as he watched, as he saw Seamus turn to follow the passage of its movements, bouncing on the air as though springs coiled in its feet before slinking to the floor to sweep around Seamus in dizzying circles. Were Patronuses supposed to act like the actual animals? It certainly looked like it. When Dean thought about it, even for the short time that it had existed, Dean thought his might have too.

Seamus didn't seem to notice that Dean was watching him. Dean and Susan and Wayne, for that matter, though Hannah was distracted with smiling at her hummingbird as it buzzed around her upraised finger. Dean could have watched Seamus stare at his Patronus all day for the smile he wore. It wasn't only because his expression exactly as Dean had known it for years – bright, carefree and genuinely happy – but because of what it meant that he'd produced it at all. Hermione had mentioned that when the spellcaster was distress, upset or struggled to conjure happy memories, they sometimes had difficulty with producing their Patronus.

Seamus wasn't sad. Or at least he wasn't at that moment. He'd had a hell of a year thus far and Dean wouldn't have thought it inconceivable for him to struggle to push aside that sadness memories for happiness, but he did. For that was what it was, Hermione had explained. As much as Patronuses required drawing happy memories to the fore, they simultaneously needed the sad ones to be shunted to the side.

That Seamus had produced a Patronus at all filled Dean with a different kind of satisfaction. He'd worried about him after what had happened, after the slightly fake joviality he'd worn following the Christmas break. He'd worried – but this was proof that he was getting better.

The fox slunk with belly to the ground, pausing for a moment before darting into flight once more and slipping through Seamus' legs. Seamus actually laughed as he watched it go, turning to follow its passage and in doing so turning towards where Dean stood alongside Susan. He glanced up at Dean and his smile spread even wider. "This is brilliant."

Dean nodded in complete sincerity. "You did great, Seam."

The joy in Seamus' expression was practically glowing even as, attention distracted, the fox Patronus abruptly faded into dissipating white light. "Thanks. Not entirely sure why it's a fox, though."

"What do you mean?" Susan asked.

"Well, I'm hardly the cunning sort, like."

Dean wasn't sure about that. Seamus may not be cunning but he was certainly pretty good at deception at times. Or perhaps evasion would be a more correct description. He'd hidden the fact that he was seeing Wayne from Dean – who, given that they were best friends, would like to think he'd be the first person Seamus would actually tell – and then the disaster of the previous summer holiday. Not to mention the farce he'd put on for his disagreement with Harry that year already.

Seamus might not see it but Dean thought that, at least from his perspective, Seamus was a bit on the cunning side.

"I don't know, Seam, maybe you're more wily that you give yourself credit for," Dean said casually.

Seamus, walking to Dean's side, very deliberately bumped him shoulder to shoulder as though to suggest what he thought of that. "Shut up. But whatever, I beat you."

Dean arched and eyebrow, lifting his chin. "Excuse me?"

"I beat you. Got me corporeal Patronus first, like."

"Actually, I think you'll find you didn't," Dean said, folding his arms across his chest. He felt his lips twitch.

Seamus raised both eyebrows. "Oh really?"

"Really. Here, Susan, back me up on this one."

"He did produce one, Seamus," Susan said, her own smile widening.

"Bullshit," Seamus said, though he didn't appear entirely disbelieving as his eyes widened, gaze blinking up at Dean. "What was it?"

"That's for me to know, not you."

"Oh, fuck that, what was it, like?"

"No, I'm not telling you."

"Dean, don't be a prat."

"Maybe you can guess. Do you think it suits me, Susan?"

"I think it suits you very much," Susan laughed.

"Traitor," Seamus grumbled. "I can't believe you'd both –"

"What's going on?"

At Wayne's worried interruption, Seamus cut himself off and glanced towards him. Dean followed his glance before drawing his gaze along Wayne's line of sight. Towards where Harry stood across the room. Harry and… was that a house elf? A house elf talking very fast and in a very squeaky voice. Half of the room had stopped what they were doing to turn their way.

"… Harry Potter, sir, Dobby has come to warn you… but the house-elves have been warned not to tell…"

The creature – Dobby, Dean supposed, given the use of its own name – was shaking in almost violent trembles. Its eyes were wide as it stared up at Harry imploringly and Harry, as though he'd already accepted the truth of the elf's words, was frowning in very apparent worry. He reached forwards and grabbed onto the house elf's arm – an almost intrusive grab, or at least Dean would have thought so if not for the elf's attempt to throw itself headlong a second later, wrenching itself from Harry's grasp. To Dean's detached relief, it merely bounced off the stone as though it were cushions and fell right back into Harry's waiting hand.

"What happened, Dobby?" Harry asked, urgency lacing his tone.

Dobby was shaking again. "Harry Potter, she… she…"

And the elf was at it again. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dean couldn't help but wince in sympathy as the elf smacked itself on the nose with its free hand. As if it was entirely commonplace, Harry grabbed its other hand too. "Who's 'she', Dobby?" Then, when no reply was forthcoming, said, "Umbridge?"

Dean felt a wash of horror sweep through him. He unconsciously glanced towards Seamus to see a similar horror morph his expression. Seamus spared him a wide-eyed glance, opened his mouth as though to say something, to add his voice to the mix of gasps and horrified whispers, but Harry was talking again.

"What about her? Dobby, she hasn't found out about this – about us – about the DA?" His voice was desperate as Dean abruptly felt. The elf didn't reply, though a twisting struggle that found it falling to the floor with Harry's hands still grasping its arms suggested it had tried to hurt itself again. "Is she coming?"

Abruptly, so loudly that Dean – and just about everyone else in the room – started with a flinch, Dobby loosed a howl before twisting and writhing as though physically in pain where it sat half raised by Harry's grasp upon it on the floor. "Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"

No one seemed to breathe. In the entire room, everyone was frozen. Every gaze, Dean's included, was locked upon Harry and the elf as Harry slowly released its arms and allowed it to fall into a self-disgusted fit of thrashing on the floor. Then Harry turned towards them all, towards the room at large. In an instant, so sharply that there followed a room-wide flinch once more, he bellowed an order. "What are you waiting for? Run!"

They didn't need telling twice. Like water fleeing through a puncturing hole, they scurried from the room, a roiling mass of students hastening to make themselves scarce before Umbridge – God, Umbridge had found out. She was coming? Dean didn't know what that would mean for them, for the DA, for the members themselves, but he didn't pause to contemplate it. Carried along by the tide of students as much as his own feet, he fled the Room of Requirement into the seventh floor before breaking into a sprint.

They drew away from one another. Diverging down corridors, they fled. Dean saw Susan branch away, saw Hannah and Wayne follow right behind her with barely a backwards glance. He caught a glimpse of Ginny disappearing around a distant corner, the blonde head of her friend Luna alongside her. He saw Neville too, stumbling alongside Lavender of all people who looked as white as a sheet and nearly hysterical.

And at his side, Seamus kept pace with him. Despite Dean being taller than him – quite a bit taller these days – Seamus had always somehow managed to keep up just as he did at that moment. They raced down the seventh floor corridor, almost ricocheting off the walls, and pelted through the halls before descending a stairwell. Rounding a corner, descending another stairwell at four steps at a time – it was a miracle that neither of them tripped and fell down to tumble down the stairs

The other students disappeared, falling away as they made a break for it. In what seemed only seconds, it was just Dean and Seamus. But they didn't slow. They barely even spared a moment to gasp a question as to where they were going; Seamus, somehow able to speak coherently at a full sprint, shouted a breathless, "The quidditch pitch wouldn't look that suspicious, right?"

Dean nodded. It would do. Without another word and caught by thoughts of what it would mean for their friends, for the DA, for themselves if they were caught, they picked up pace further. Dean was only happy that, despite his very apparent horror that was steadily morphing into terror mirroring Dean's, Seamus was at his side.


It had been a big year. That much Dean acknowledged. A big year where much had happened, and the following year would likely be just as big.

The papers spewed article after article about what had happened at the Ministry. About what had happened with Harry, with the rest of his 'party' as the papers phrased it. About He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his return, something that Dean had known for a whole year since he'd believed Harry from the get-go but seemed all the more real now that the rest of the world acknowledged it too.

The world seemed to have darkened slightly. Dimmed, as though the lights had been snuffed out in deference to the morbidity of what hung over them. It was as though everyone was holding their breath in wait for a disaster that was about to strike, though no one quite knew what direction it would come from.

Dean was worried. He was worried about what would come with the following year and beyond. He was fearful for the safety of his family that, even Muggles, could still be compromised. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hated Muggles, didn't he? There was no reason that he would target Dean's family specifically, but Dean still worried. He'd written home half a dozen times since the first article in the newspaper preaching Harry's truthfulness had been published. It did little to ease his mind, even when he received replies in return.

Dean was worried about his friends, too. About Harry, because Harry had looked terrible ever since returning from the Ministry. Dean might not be all that close to him, but despite his sullenness of the past year he'd always liked Harry. Respected him. Now he just seemed listless and… sad. Something had happened at the Ministry. Something big and Dean didn't know what.

Ron had been in the hospital after what had happened. And Hermione. And Neville and Ginny and Ginny's friend, Luna. Dean didn't know why they'd gone to the Ministry in the first place but he was worried for all of them. It wasn't right. Something very definitely not right had happened and Dean didn't know what. He was worried about his friends, of what would come in the following months and that… it made the rapidly encroaching holidays all the more unbearable. Dean wanted to be with his family to make sure they were alright but away from his friends? It worried him.

Their OWLs, Umbridge, the incessant arguments with the Slytherins as Gryffindors were want to engage in – all of it seemed so unnecessary now in the light of the larger problem. The much larger problem. Dean hadn't thought about his OWL results in days.

The morning they were set to leave, the hall wasn't quite as subdued as the previous year when they'd been mulling in the death of a fellow student, but there was a certain flavour to the air. A nervousness. A buzzing of agitation, as though everyone wanted to do something – something useful, something to alleviate the sudden descent into the troublesome – but didn't know quite how to go about it. Dean could understand that. Around him, the mostly filled Gryffindor table was peppered with those lost in thought as often as they muttered in casual conversation.

He was absently dressing his toast, lost in his own thoughts, when Seamus grabbed his wrist. "What are you doing?"

Dean blinked, glancing up at him. "What?"

Seamus stared at him, a frown touching his brow before his eyes flickered down to Dean's plate. "Dean, you hate marmalade."

It was such a strangely unexpected thing to say that Dean was momentarily shaken out of his funk to drop his gaze down to his plate. He snorted at the mess of orange gunk he'd spread across his toast. "Oops."

"You're an idiot," Seamus said before promptly picking up Dean's toast and transferring it to his own in a trade. Dean found himself with a peanut butter sandwich placed in his hands. "Lucky you've got me to take the fall for you, like."

Dean couldn't help but smile. It was such a trivial thing, but in the midst of his thoughts – thoughts that he knew everyone was having, even if just on the edges of their awareness – it was a relief. Shaking his head, Dean bit into his sandwich and forcibly turned his attention from his worrisome thoughts. "I still don't know how you can eat that crap."

Seamus shrugged, biting his own toast. "Tastes good."

"It tastes like shit."

"Clearly there's something wrong with your tastebuds, like."

"Or with yours."

Seamus scrunched his nose and jabbed his half eaten toast towards Dean in a pointing gesture. Dean instinctively withdrew despite himself, smirking at the mockingly serious expression on Seamus' face. "I'm the one with the age-old pure blood running through my veins."

"Oh, so that makes your weird preference for marmalade acceptable, does it?"

"Damn right it does," Seamus said, satisfied as though he'd just proven his point. "'Sides, I'm not the only one. Eoghan likes it too."

"Apparently it's a family disorder, then," Dean said, grinning. Only to feel his smile slide off his face as that Seamus returned to him wasn't quite as wide as it perhaps should have been for their teasing nature. Dean was reminded of just one more thing that was concerning him of late. Seamus hadn't spoken much of what he was doing that summer, as though he himself was just as worried, and Dean hadn't asked.

Until now, that was. It wasn't like he'd have much of a chance to do so otherwise. Leaning towards Seamus and casually plucking the crusts from his sandwich, he dropped his voice in a murmur. "Speaking of, have you worked out what you're going to do this holidays?"

The rest of Seamus' smile slipped to be replaced by a slight frown and a touch of pursed lips. He turned that frown towards his upraised toast as though it was suddenly offensive. "You mean going home, like?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I mean…" He paused, swallowed, then adopted a smile. "You know Mum and Andrew would be more than happy for you to come to our place. If you wanted to, that is. Hell, I'd probably need someone other than my sisters around for a bit. They drive me batty, I swear."

The smile Seamus turned to his said he didn't believe Dean's half-lie for an instant. "Sucks for you, having younger sisters."

"Exactly. Do a friend a favour, would you?"

Seamus chuckled. "Maybe I'll stop by for a visit, yeah?"

Dean nodded. He supposed he couldn't ask for more than that. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you'd like."

They fell silent for a moment, each lost in contemplation, before Seamus broke into Dean's thoughts with a murmur. "I think I'm probably going to stay at Eoghan's, like. He said I could, and I…" He trailed off, frowning more deeply at his toast.

Dean watched him sidelong. "You don't want to go back home?"

It was a dangerous question, could just as likely make Seamus snap – for he'd always been a volatile sort of person, if not quite so much these days – as induce very justified maudlin. Thankfully, neither seemed apparent when he replied, even if he still didn't look from his dissatisfying toast. "No. No, I don't think so. I've sent letters home and all, but –" He cut himself off.

A pause, a long pause, and then Dean tentatively prompted with, "But?"

"But," Seamus drew out in a long sigh. "Me mam's sent back to me and all, and me dad, but they're just full of shit, like. They don't say everything's fine, or they're okay that I'm… gay." He struggled with the word and Dean's heart went out to him; it was the first time that he'd so openly admitted it that year, and if that didn't say something for how far Seamus had come since the beginning of the year then Dean didn't know what did. "They didn't even really say anything about me coming home. Just… talked about stuff."

Dean bit back the urge to grumble and growl. It wasn't fair. It really, really wasn't fair. He was still shocked and more than a little furious that Seamus' family would do such a thing to him. They'd seemed so close when Dean had met them in the past. More like a community of friends than a begrudging family; there had been the usual discord between the Kavanaghs and the Finnigans as Dean had seen in his brief visit nearly three years ago, but it had been minimal.

He couldn't believe that Mrs Finnigan, the kindly if bossy little woman he saw at King's Cross every year, and Mr Finnigan, the vague yet enthusiastic man who seemed to dote on Seamus' magical exploits, could possibly act in such a way. Dean had deduced it was pureblood prejudice that induced it as much as anything, but having an explanation for what it was didn't make it any better. Not at all.

"Well, even if they don't, you've got more than enough places to go," Dean said perhaps a little louder and more confidently than he felt. Oh, he was confident in his promise, but in Seamus accepting it? Not so much. He knew Seamus wanted to be with his family despite their mistreatment of him. Dean couldn't blame him for that, even if he might want for otherwise.

The smile Seamus turned upon him was warm in its gratitude. "Thanks," he said, bumping his shoulder into Dean's before taking another bite of toast. Only to pause as something clearly caught his eye and he turned towards the door. "Oh, won't be a sec. I'm just going to –"

Springing to his feet, Seamus dropped his breakfast and hastened across the room towards the doors. Staring after him, Dean caught sight of their trio of Hufflepuff friends as, seeing Seamus approach, they paused in wait for him. Dean turned back to his breakfast. He liked the Hufflepuffs, liked them a lot even, but Seamus had always been the one closer to them. Maybe he was just a more amicable kind of person?

The appearance of another person at his side, however, drew Dean's attention. Glancing up once more, he barely registered her arrival before Ginny was dropping into Seamus' vacated seat with a heavy sigh. He blinked at her, a little surprised by her arrival, before offering a smile. "Hello." Then he frowned.

Ginny looked tired. Not as tired as she had been in the past few days, nor even a week ago when she'd appeared utterly exhausted, but tired nonetheless. Dean supposed that fighting crazy witches and wizards in the middle of the Ministry was a tiring pastime.

"You okay?" He asked by way of greeting.

Ginny smiled gratefully as though she truly appreciated Dean's concern. "Yeah, I'm alright. Looking forwards to the holidays, though."

"I'll say," Dean agreed, even if it was only a mild agreement. He wasn't sure what to think about the approaching holidays and whether they was necessarily a good thing or not in their timing. They were, weren't they?

Weren't they?

"Do you have any plans?" Ginny asked, propping an elbow on the table and chin onto her palm.

Dean shrugged, taking a final bite of his toast. "Not that I'm aware of. Mum and my step-dad usually plan to go away somewhere but I haven't heard of anything. You?"

Ginny shook her head. "I think it's probably not the best time to go away at the moment."

"Yeah, I guess." Dean nodded. They didn't need to discuss why it would be such a bad idea. Understanding sat heavily upon them all.

"We should catch up sometime," Ginny said.

Reaching for his glass of juice, Dean paused and glanced towards her. "Sorry?"

"Us. We should catch up sometime this holidays."

Dean blinked. Certainly he and Ginny were friends, but he hadn't thought they were that close. He liked her and all, but he hadn't… he didn't know if… "You mean with Ron and Harry and all of them?"

The smile rising slowly onto Ginny's face was more than a little amused. It seemed as though she found Dean's words funny. "Well, we could do that too. I was just hoping for the two of us to go out sometime, actually."

For a moment, Dean thought he'd heard her wrong. Then he thought he might have misinterpreted Ginny's words. Surely she didn't mean that, did she? It was true that dating seemed to have exploded a little bit in his classmates that year, if not so much amongst the Gryffindors. He knew Hannah had dated Justin Finch-Fletchley for all of about three months earlier in the year. Seamus had been dating Wayne the previous year and as far as Dean was concerned – though he still didn't think it his place to ask – had gotten back with him. But for Dean? When he really thought about it, maybe it was strange that he hadn't thought about it.

Swallowing, Dean watched Ginny almost warily from the corner of his eye. She looked entirely too comfortable as she watched him in return. Satisfied even. He'd never really considered her in such a light, but should he? Perhaps he should.

"Do you mean like…?" Dean trailed off indicatively, raising an eyebrow.

Ginny's smile broadened and she straightened in her seat, dropping her hands to her lap. "Yeah. Yeah, I do mean like that. But only if you'd want to." She shrugged. "I really like you, Dean. Would you like to go out with me?"

Dean had never really thought about the process of asking someone out. In his mind, if he ever contemplated it at all, it had simply already happened. He'd never considered the steps to actually getting there. Ginny, whether she'd done it before or thought about it enough herself, was entirely comfortable with herself. Or at least she appeared to be. Was it all a show? Dean wasn't sure, but Ginny had always seemed a very honest person, if teasing at times. Maybe even a little blunt in her honesty.

Dean regarded her for a moment. He thought about it, pointedly ignoring the sudden hitching of his heartbeat, thudding loudly in a bid for attention. He liked Ginny. He did. He liked her a lot, actually. She was smart, funny to the point of wickedly comedic, animated and interesting. She was a great quidditch player from what he'd seen, and a pretty good spellcaster too. And she was pretty. No one could look at Ginny and think that she wasn't pretty.

Did Dean want to date her though? When he thought about it, there wasn't really anyone else who he would want to date. He'd just… he'd never really thought about it before. Was this how it had happened with Seamus and Wayne? Had Seamus been just as oblivious as well? Who had asked whom in that relationship? Abruptly, Dean wished he'd had the courage – or perhaps the tactlessness – to ask. It would be nice to understand another person's experience, just so it wasn't so confounding to him.

Before he'd even fully considered, Dean found himself nodding. Nodding more pronouncedly when Ginny's smile widened into a grin. "Great!" She said. "That's fantastic. I'll write you to work out when we can meet, then?"

Dean nodded once more. "Yeah, that – that sounds like a plan."

Ginny uttered a short, happy little laugh before rising to standing. She paused just before turning to leave, however, leaning towards Dean, and before he knew what was happening she pressed a kiss onto his cheek. Another little laugh in his ear, a murmured, "I'll see you later, Dean," and she was starting along the table towards her own friends where she'd probably left them barely minutes before.

Blinking in something of a stupor, Dean found himself staring at his plate. At the jug of juice. Across the table to the pair of sixth years in casual discussion and a little along to – well shit, Neville had seen what had happened. He was regarding Dean with raised eyebrows and while not exactly accusatory he wasn't beaming with joy for the situation either. Was it strange? Was it weird because Ginny was Ron's friend? Because Ginny was a year younger than him?

Dean dropped his gaze immediately. He'd never felt so out of his depth before, not even when he'd first come to Hogwarts. At least he hadn't been alone in that instance, despite most of the other kids in his year already having some degree of knowledge about magic. Seamus had seemed as awed as Dean had.

Quite without conscious decision, Dean found himself glancing in the direction he'd last seen Seamus. He still stood at the door, still chatting to Wayne – or to all of the Hufflepuffs, but Dean assumed it was primarily to Wayne. He abruptly wished Seamus would come back, or that he'd gone with him to see their friends. It wasn't that he didn't want to date Ginny – no, the very thought filled him with a strange mixture of excitement and terror that he'd never felt before – but he quite literally had no idea what to do. Maybe Seamus could help with that. Maybe Dean really should have asked beforehand how it had happened with him and Wayne?

Finally turning back to the scraps of his breakfast, Dean fell into his thoughts. Well, at least he'd have something else on his mind for the trip back to London other than worry for crazy Dark wizards and OWL results. He had that to be thankful for, he supposed.


A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you liked the chapter. If you did, please leave a review. Anything to say? Any thoughts? What did you think of Dean's patronus? Accurate or do you have something else in mind?