A/N: Oh. My. Gosh. It's here! This is the May chapter that I'm sure many have been awaiting (...or maybe no one, after all, that Christmas update didn't get any replies, but maybe you all were just waiting patiently for this, in that case it's acceptable). It's been so long since an official chapter, I feel awful, but look! Here it is!
ImperialEvolution: (From the first review of an earlier chapter) Yes, it does get worse...sorry/not sorry. (Recent chapter review.) Well, thank you! I'm glad to see you like it a lot! As painful as this whole thing has been. (For all of us, writing it was hard and completely full of feels for months and well this chapter...this is no exception.)
Ezezaguna: Aww, thank you! I'm gonna be smug here and say I'm glad this was the first Deamus fic you read because well, that just really makes me happy because I personally think it's a pretty good starter one especially. I love reading really great fics when I have a new ship, and I'm grateful one of my stories got to be that for someone, that's something I didn't even realize I had a goal for until now!
So before I let you read the actual story, let's say that the first few bits were written at a time when I wasn't up to par with writing and while I have done plenty of editing/proofreading and all of my own, I really hope they satisfy. The last few bits are more … average writing I do suppose for this story. I do hope everything hits where it needs to because this is a really hard chapter to tackle, there's a lot that goes on in about two days (and the added weeks or so for convenience) so it was a tough one, but I hope it works. His mental state in this one goes a bit back and forth, but another reason for writing an epilogue chapter after this is that I really want to capture that a little more and I also possibly just … I just want these two to live happily together so I'm going to give them that. There's more than a few tears in this chapter as well, sobs aplenty but I promise it's only because … well, wouldn't you cry a lot too if this was your situation? Also Dean always just seemed softer than Seamus (I mean not that Shay wouldn't have a soft side but… you know) so I worked that a little to my advantage. Anyways, thank you for reading this … really long book thing, and I hope you enjoy this chapter and the epilogue which will come along in due time, I'm not entirely sure when I'll start on it, but it will happen. I will make it happen.
2:00 PM May 1st, 1998
Settling in to any new place is a struggle, and people often don't understand.
I've had to reserve my rants to bathroom time because if they hear me at all, I get whispers and looks. It seems such things never end.
The mysterious door in the corner turned out to be an entrance to a secret pathway that goes to Aberforth Dumbledore's house,- no one here knew Professor even had a brother - and that's where all of our food has come from. It's not particularly good food, but it's satisfying enough. Neville's taking care of all that comes in and out of the tunnel.
The rest of the castle outside is in a bit of a panic, according to those who are willing to go out and risk being caught to get a glimpse of the life the castle leads now. Not a soul out there really knows where we all disappeared to; and it's not only the D.A. group that's gone. Other students have come out of their desperation and begging. But not too many, not too many. I have a feeling the Carrows are probably "worried sick" or something. It wouldn't surprise me.
I've gotten used to having half my vision. It's weird, alright, but … at least I've come to some sort of acceptance. I still can't get used to the fact that someday...if he...were to see me...nothing would be the same. But will anything ever be the same?
This probably looks like shit, because while I can see most of what I write, I often make mistakes that look horrible, and I have to get someone else to correct them, if it's something others are going to see. And my mind's addled, I can feel the pressure on it a lot of the time when I'm sitting alone. If anyone were to see this...I don't know what I'd do. Unless I specifically gave it to them… no one should ever read this.
Neville keeps acting like Harry's going to up and appear sometime soon, like this will all end or something. I don't think he'll return. Yet that fool won't stop insisting that Harry's coming back. What makes him the most ridiculous, though, (while he's pleading with us about his endeavors) is his extremely beat-up face. It's not exactly funny. I look worse, I know it, things are swollen everywhere, and there's probably some infection, but one can't help doubting another's attempts at encouragement when they've got a puffer fish as a face.
I haven't made it through the sketchbook yet, I'm still saving some of the pages for various reasons. I don't really want to see the very last image in it. Hell, I haven't actually really looked at it since my … injury. I'm not sure I want to see it differently. I've written about this before, I'm as certain about that as I'm certain about having lost most of my sight. But I just don't want to, because there's an end coming someday. Soon. Maybe. I hope. God, oh god, I hope there's an end to this coming.
Dinner, had, as usual, been very poor amounts of sloppy stuff known as "soup". It was nearing the later end of the evening hours into night, and Seamus was once more hoping desperately that maybe, just maybe, the food in the morning would make up for whatever that had been. Neville had disappeared off through the door all of a sudden just a few moments ago, and most were still whispering about where he might have gone.
They were all seated around the "table" as they usually were at some point during the day. It was mildly fascinating that all of them were willing to sit there without thinking of acting out.
As it was known, something was about to happen, and the tension was rising in the air.
"Where might he have gone?"
"I think there was something about fish…"
"What sort of fish, you imbecile, would require being hours early to the place you needed to get it from?"
It was the longest and most uncomfortable wait he had ever experienced. Neville had left little instruction, simply that he would be back soon as the picture in the portrait had appeared and taken him away. That had been ten minutes ago, according to the interesting clock on one of the walls.
A creak suddenly resounded through the entire room, and all went still.
"Did you hear that?" Someone whispered, but it was so quiet everyone could hear it. Seamus lifted his face toward the door.
A long moment was drawn out as the door slowly opened and then came Neville, grinning like the village idiot. And then - the entire room erupted.
Shouts echoed all over the place as Harry Potter himself emerged from the opening, along with Ron and Hermione, all looking a little overwhelmed, Seamus noticed; before he ran up to clap them on the backs like everyone else was doing. He caught Neville's eye briefly; only to be met with a short nod and a grin.
There were a few minutes of talking. Seamus took part in some of it, making sure to highlight the good side of Neville. But there was something missing from the atmosphere, and maybe everyone noticed it, maybe they didn't. It felt like a part of the puzzle of the scene before them was missing and it was driving Seamus mad -
Harry said something loudly, but no one seemed to catch it as the tunnel door behind him opened again.
A voice was heard, a female voice, something about receiving a message.
Luna stepped through the corridor and someone followed behind her.
In that instant, Seamus' weakened vision tunneled. For a moment, he could only stand there as shock made every nerve prick up. His heart gave a giant flip-flop motion which seemed to resound in his ribcage, causing feelings to explode everywhere. Tears pricked at his one eye, threatening to well-up and strangle him in their intensity.
All emotions gave way in the moment, the flash of a moment. Each one of them ripped through his body like a lightening bolt: anguish, mourning, bitterness, regret, and finally, love. Pure and unadulterated love radiated from inside him, the last "flash of lightning" echoing in his ribcage and making everything in the room seem completely idiotic. How could anyone just stand there, when this, this was, no, that was-
With a deep breath, Seamus gave a loud noise that was probably best described as a roar, and he was bolting toward the figure, embracing the tall man around the neck.
For some reason, he was as stiff as a board when Seamus reached him.
"Dean." He lifted his face a little, and saw the recognition and shock pass over Dean's face. And suddenly, every inch of breath and air that he had in his lungs previously was gone.
"Seamus? Oh god, oh god, Shay…"
It was Dean. Dean, who after all this time was finally back. Dean, who was now gripping him tightly and holding him to his chest. Dean, who had his face buried in Seamus' hair, holding him above the floor with his strength, muttering his name, over and over and over again.
He absolutely failed to notice that most people were watching them, or had been, once Dean was through the door, despite the fact that Harry was talking again.
"What the hell did they do to you?" Dean took a moment from muttering "Shay" and spoke the words softly into the hair his face was pressed into. "What happened?"
"Carrows." It was all that needed to be explained right now anyway.
All that mattered right now was that Dean was here and back and alive and breathing.
Seamus was forced to drop one arm as soon as Dean held up his Galleon and asked Harry why they couldn't fight.
"-they take yer wand or somethin'? He had already expressed his amazement at the downright stupid bravery of walking into a battle without a wand, and now he turned his full half-gaze on Dean for the first time. The black man gave a soft nod.
"What is wrong with your eye, Seamus?"
"I...blinded."
Dean gave a sharp intake of breath, "They took - wait...oh Shay…really?"
"Knife. I'll...explain...later." It had to come to the tough stuff later. There seemed to be a battle brewing, so why explain everything now when the chances of survival still seemed to be a little on the low side?
There was a few moments of staring into each other's eyes - or eye, in his case - where everything that wanted to be done or said was "done" and "said" through sight. So much had to be conveyed in one simple motion of the body that Seamus wanted to just get on with it and make out right then and there; but that didn't seem fitting right now. Or, really, at any time in the near future.
"We should probably help kick some butt around here." Dean gently stated, but really, it was only a suggestion.
The students sat in their formal rows. Not a single person stirred as the teachers gazed over them, silence embedding the entire Hall as an unknown cloak. Seamus gripped Dean's hand harder - he'd been holding it since they'd left the Room of Requirement; for him it was the first time in weeks that he'd left it. Hogwarts didn't look terribly different at all. Maybe a bit gloomier since it was late at night.
Every student was seated at their respective table, most were tired looking, and all were in various forms of dishevelment. McGonagall was answering the few questions that were asked - a sudden cold voice broke over the entire hall. Shrieks from various students echoed all over the place, as the cruel thing kept speaking.
With a large shiver, he tried to curl his body back into Dean's; who was shaking just as badly as he. The amount of fear a voice could put in one was sort of outrageous, and it made Seamus angry as much as he was scared.
"...midnight." The word echoed around the great space until some stupid Slytherin - Pansy, who was always a horrible creature, of course she would do this - stood up and tried to get at Harry.
Tugging on Dean's hand, they stood up with the rest of the Gryffindors to block anyone from getting at Harry. Fear was gone, replaced with the anger Seamus had felt since the beginning of the year when all had become inevitable.
These were the people who had been responsible for him losing Dean in the first place. They were finally going to bloody pay for all the damn stupid things they'd put so many people through. All the pain he'd been through was their faults. If Seamus were to accurately describe what was going through him right then aside from adrenaline and rage, he would have only been able to say "excitement".
A profound numbness of disbelief also reigned in his failed mind. Doubts had floated through his head for hours now, debating whether or not this really was Dean, Dean was actually here, Dean wasn't actually here… The kind chocolate eyes that looked at his own - Oh! - that were looking into his own now, they were the chocolate color he'd always found in cruel times. So there was little to no explanation as to why he couldn't believe this was Dean. Or, well, there shouldn't be. Seamus heard himself let out a small whimper, and felt hands wrap around his shoulders, every other person in the room dissolving from view suddenly as he stared back at Dean.
"Shay? Shay, can you hear me? Are you sure you're up to fight?" There was no need to get worried, why was Dean worried? "You look distant…"
"I…" There were no words to say. What words may have been extracted before were no longer there to find.
"I understand if you're nervous. You simply didn't look...just nervous," Dean spoke again. Slytherin appeared to be leaving the Great Hall now. Shouldn't they pay attention to what was going on?
"It was … shock." He mumbled it softly, and yet, Dean heard it, a tiny look of relief passing over his face.
"I'm glad you're not going to have a stroke while fighting then."
The joke was half-hearted; most things were "half-hearted" right then.
Dean gently pushed him back down into the table, and sat down beside him, hand still gripping his own tightly. For now, they would remain as close together as possible. Seamus felt the ringing in his ears that had appeared before the exchange completely disappear, something inside of him felt warm with the reassurement that Dean was here, at least… at least he appeared to be, for now. Maybe it was only now; if this was, like everything else, made-up.
A large part of Seamus wanted to believe this was made-up. That large part of him was starting to firmly believe it, even if those warm eyes were still looking at him in worry, even now. The battle was the only real thing about it all - but that was okay, he would fight for Dean.
Loud, blasting explosions ricocheted around the large "battlefield" once known as Hogwarts. It all looked awful, but the whole thing hadn't begun recently anyways, per say. What had been done recently was his fixing various explosives to the bridge, and waiting for it blow up in their faces.
Smells entered the air, smoke combined with that familiar smell of burning wood. Various parts were already destroying themselves very slowly. The bridge would fall into a slow deterioration until it simply went out with a giant "bang!" That would be the sweet end of a slow burn.
Seamus watched from the edge of the castle - the entrance to the bridge - as Death Eaters tried to cross, unaware of what lay beneath it. A moment from now, the bridge would be unavailable for use. Good luck to anyone who was on it; a small huff came out of his mouth as he thought this, something that may have resembled a chuckle, however that may feel like. Seamus didn't remember how to laugh.
Up above, people shouted quickly as someone shot a spell at the nearest connector that would end it all. Even with his limited visibility, Seamus still couldn't wait to see what that looked like.
Soot suddenly flew at him from all directions as the bridge began to collapse in an almost graceful motion. Seamus was never quite prepared for those moments when the dirt flew in your face; by the looks of it, no one else standing by him was either.
Someone was screaming in the distance. For a brief moment, the Irish man actually thought of someone other than Dean being injured. The separation from Dean had been almost immediate when the fight had begun. Already, the memory wasn't strong enough in his mind to make him believe any of that had happened.
The battle was ugly, ugly and gruesome. Others would be losing their lives too. Plenty of people had already, he was certain of it.
Before they remained in an extended amount of time with which to admire the fallen bridge, they were running toward the center of the castle. Fighting was planned as their primary focus once the bridge was destroyed.
There was only so much stimulation Seamus could take as he entered the fray of people, all twisting various ways, Death Eaters swooping in and out or falling with their dueling partner. On one of his glances around, Seamus watched two fight out to grab their wands from the ground in a brutal wrestle. The Hogwarts resident was triumphant; and obviously scared shitless from that encounter. Seamus offered a nod as he passed, running with the others he'd been grouped with.
Courtyards were constant sources of good battle scenes from what Seamus had been told in years past by Dean on the topic of Muggle action movies. For the first time, he realized that they really were. Every piece of broken building sitting in the way put a stop to no one's fight. It was a miracle he ran through without getting hit. Exhaustion was pounding through his body already, he was puffing for breath: since he'd been caught up in what was going on around them, he was only now able to realize his pain as they all came to a halt in the entrance to the Great Hall.
A feeling of admiration for some unknown person and absolute pride hit him as he looked at the door frame and saw that The List was lying in shreds about the area from his position with hands-on-knees. They had destroyed - begun to destroy, even - the pieces of the past with their immense amount of hatred and disposition. Seamus was grateful to whomever had destroyed that black curtain of torture.
Before anything else could be taken in, he was shoved against the backs of his "squad" and helped fight off attackers from all angles with whatever spell he could come up with first. If it was a simple disarming spell, so be it. Seamus wasn't mentally stable enough for this sort of fighting, and he knew it. Parts of him wanted to sit down and cry in the dust and rubble that surrounded them, giving up because it hurt too much to watch people fall and to move, even.
"Seamus, stay standing up! Move him to the center if you can!" Hannah Abbott - who he'd known was with them but hadn't really registered that fact fully - shouted to the others. It was only then that he realized he was practically kneeling.
The others nervously surrounded him, taking out their attackers as a throng. Hannah had been watching him the whole time, he knew it, she'd spotted his weakness long before he'd realized he was slightly dizzy and dazed. This was awful. He threw a spell over some of the heads around him when someone came at them that they couldn't see, but Seamus mostly wanted to give up now. After scaling that bridge, whatever energy he had left was slowly leaving him.
Things slowed down suddenly - one of those freeze frames in those action movies - bodies flying in various directions with spells to join them. Shouts became long, drawn out noises. In the distance there was a loud thumping from all directions, like giants were coming in. And amidst the noise, Seamus realized he had to fight.
No matter how much it hurt, because that had never stopped him before. It wouldn't stop him now.
Dean would wait for him if he didn't come to him immediately after the battle ended, if it ever ended, and he wouldn't be there to come to that man, who seemed more phantom-like than ever now, if he didn't keep fighting. Hannah couldn't keep these people surrounding and protecting and alive all at once, forever. He didn't want to be weak in front of anyone, and here he was, slowing them all down. He must keep fighting and pushing, he must keep fighting and pushing, for there was nothing else to do in times like these.
"Split up!" He stood taller now, although the others were still all taller than he, "Split up and run!"
Hannah only shot him a rather confused look before running off. Seamus could take care of himself. A crabby older man with a large black beard approached him hungrily, but before he could react, something emitted from Seamus' mouth that he had never thought to use before. And he would never use again. "CRUCIO!"
The man writhed, and until Seamus disarmed him, he remained writhing until the spell was a moment, Seamus stood still, staring at the face of that man who was watching him in pain now. Hell. Bloody hell. Never again. Never. Again. He would not be using that spell on anyone ever again.
As he ran, his mind twisted. What he had done back there was absolutely unacceptable and it wouldn't be repeated. Yet that could not haunt him now, he needed to keep fighting and pushing. Fighting and pushing...
One hour.
Cold tears trickled down their chins as they gazed at those above and under the sheets, the air heavy with loss. The words had reverberated through every inch of the castle as he'd run through. They still seemed to hold their weight in the Great Hall; each word that had been said about costing the lives of many was now being realized as people entered. It had become a place of the dead and the gloomy, not the living and the jolly air that had always seemed to exist in the place all those years prior. Seamus gave a gentle sigh as he stood in the entrance.
His presence went unnoticed by all who he passed. Pains entered his heart as he gazed at the bodies on the ground. On a platform higher than the rest, Ma'am Pomfrey was tending to the wounded who lay there. Those that were no longer curable were gently lying on the surrounding ground. No doubt there would be more bodies to pull out still to come, but from the tone of the wizard who had spoken to them all not more than a few moments ago, there was a chance they might all become one with the rubble.
"Seamus?" Parvati was watching him from her crouched position beside Lavender, who didn't appear to be dead. The platform must have grown too weighted and injured were being placed below.
Ignoring her questioning look and tone, Seamus moved away in a dazed trance. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out who else was dead. There were all of the Weasleys… oh...god… that was ... horrible…
Grief had shrouded the hall. Seamus did not want to be a part of the grief, he wanted to get fully away from it, he wanted to make sure that what had seemed like an imaginary figure was real and that maybe that figure had survived like the miraculous person he was. The grief had been over his head for months, he'd had that same grief before anyone else had, that grief of death. It filled the air with its horrible scent, death did, shading everything three shades too dark.
All the Irishboy wanted was to find that familiar chocolate brown face in the midst of this crowded Hall, standing, not lying. He was now almost at the end of the Hall when a gentle hand gripped his arm with a gentle pull.
Turning completely around, he was met with the eyes of the only person who might offer comfort. On the ground behind them were bodies of students Seamus had tried tirelessly to stand up for, and he hated the sight. But the tall dark man covered his vision completely of the bodies; sensing that this was the cause of the trance Seamus was exiting from slowly, the numbness that was contained in his body slowly going to a normal state. Slowly, slowly he was beginning to believe this really was Dean - he really wanted to believe it was.
"Shay?" Dean's eyes were searching his again, and he let his vision only see Dean, which was easier with one eye available. "Shay, you've made it…"
"So have yeh," He could not say the words that finalized the idea of survival; neither of them could. That reality hadn't happened yet, and he wasn't really sure this was reality yet anyways.
"We have an hour to do whatever we need to get out of the way...I was desperate when I entered, I thought maybe you'd...Well, we-" Seamus held his finger up to Dean's stuttering lips, a soft, teasing grin entering his face.
If he could at least pretend this was really Dean, he could also touch this person who had to be something of Dean. The taller man quite babbling.
"I was thinking yeh might need to be in a quiet place for a bit," he gave a wide motion around them, "and not 'round heah."
"Good idea."
With a soft pull of his own, Seamus entered a corner of a corridor outside the entrance to the Great Hall, one he'd always wanted to stand in with Dean like this - like the way they were standing now especially. Dean had one hand just above his shoulder, and the other was gently placed on Seamus' arm. Seamus had let his hands fall down to hold Dean's hips; but while they may have both been thinking along the lines of multiple snogs, Seamus didn't want to. And he was quite sure the black man was thinking the same thing. Now wasn't the time for that, not quite.
"I'm not sure there's much ta say…" He gave a little shrug, trying to make it seem like he wasn't thinking about what it would be like to taste those lips right now, maybe see if those lips were real. They seemed real enough when he'd touched them, but tasting would only prove it more. The doubts still swirled in his mind. "Dean, I… we should wait 'till this is over…"
There was a small nod, "I've had similar thoughts."
That could mean a number of things, like Dean was just as numb about this as he was, or that he was regretting this choice now.
He was pressed so far back into the stone wall, he was sure there was going to be an imprint in his back now, along with all scars, from how close Dean was leaning in, and how much he was teasing him with backing up. This hour wasn't going to be their last, it wasn't, and they weren't going to act like it was and get carried away in the moment with that thought. Screams were still ringing through the halls. It couldn't go like this.
Dean seemed to be getting the message well enough. He backed away a little bit, as if scared, or shy, letting the other back off the wall and turn to face him now. They stood like that for a little bit. Seamus finally took in all of the appearance of this mirage that claimed to be Dean.
So much thinner than he'd ever been, was Dean, that it was shocking. The clothing he wore was decently fitted, but it was evident it had been fitted. His appearance wasn't ragged, so obviously, times in good places had been spent wherever he was recently. Living in a basement hadn't been the predicament his entire missing time, but evidently it was recent that he had been doing something of the sort no matter if he looked a little lively.
Those thin cheeks created those pleasant cheekbones to seem a little freakish; well, freakish to anyone who didn't have as much appreciation for them as Seamus did. His appreciation was higher than anyone else's in the world, and he knew it.
But whatever had happened over that long year had affected Dean brutally. Food had evidently been scarce. There were no stress marks, as if Dean couldn't be affected by those naturally. His eyes held only love and admiration for the man in front of him from what Seamus could tell.
A loud wail echoed around the corridor suddenly - seeing who was making that sound was hardly intriguing. Dean gave a grimace, his lips turning downward. People had died tonight and here they were, trying to figure things out before the whole world possibly collapsed.
Cool air rushed by, stealing away all breath. Thoughts swirled in his head, thoughts of the images from the sketchbook, thoughts of the way they were standing now, all sorts of crazy thoughts that were driving him crazy. The stone was cold and hard still.
"We should… do somethin'..." Before Dean could pull away, he was dragged a little closer with an unknown strength that the Irishman did not know he had. Now they were touching foreheads.
"Whatever yeh do… don't get.. Don't leave me heah alone, Dean…" A sigh escaped his lips as he said this, regret filling every inch of his body, "Don't leave me alone."
He left off that he was only just beginning to believe this really was Dean. That the man's existence and knowledge of his existence relied on him being there. One moment of silence finished the thought off, the sounds of sobbing coming into the corridor before either of them could really react; and they broke apart.
The last glance Seamus gave to his lover was the moment he was able to capture all of Dean's emotions in one facial expression as they moved away from each other like a spell had been cast to keep them away. All that echoed there was longing.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" It was shouted with urgency as the wand came flying away from the area, the man went flailing away as a stunning spell was shot at him.
Seamus had never realized how difficult it working with another person to defend really was. He wished that maybe this could be easier if Neville would lay off a little bit, but maybe this was how it was meant to be done? Dueling partners had never been something taught in class.
The screams were going off again as the battle drolled on. Not a single, tattered, exhaustion-ridden body that could still move was standing still or unoccupied. All of the Hall was covered with dueling people. They had fought off several Death Eaters by now, when Harry had randomly disappeared -
"SEAMUS! WATCH IT!" Neville shouted at him, a curse darting in his direction.
With all the effort he had, he tried to dodge it, he really did. The undefined color caught his leg as he attempted movement. Immense pain cut across it. Blood started to show through the leg of his trousers down in his calf. Neville wasn't paying him any mind; distracted by another Death Eater now.
Seamus gritted his teeth, hearing cries echo from all around. Only a few moments ago, Harry had been dead, then he wasn't, and now no one was sure what was happening. Dragging himself to a large stone, Seamus sat heavily down on it. The least that could be done was a bit of defensive strategy.
Before anyone could try and attack him, everything fell still and silent.
Harry had spoken something, Harry - Harry was actually alive and standing right there - Harry had silenced everyone. Voldemort stood in the center of it all.
The next minutes would always remain indescribable to Seamus, who was never quite sure what really happened.(His half-an-eye-vision didn't assist with that either.) In one instant, suddenly, Voldemort was dead, after some spells had been cast, threats put up, and growls made. For another moment, Seamus' breath caught in his throat as he realized what this meant with every other person who was realizing the same thing.
Then, new screams were ringing out amongst the Hall: screams of joy, absolute joy. Seamus saw Harry being flooded, he moved himself off of the rock, now ignoring the pain in his leg. He caught Harry's eye from the distance for a brief moment and managed to give a small nod, knowing the other saw it and acknowledged it.
But his attention was pulled away from those who were celebrating with Harry, and certainly, there were plenty of them.
When they collided, the feeling was an explosion as the tall black man pulled him up to his lips and gripped him around the waist. He was quite literally being held up by Dean, and he gripped Dean's neck to hold onto something.
Wrapped in the tight embrace, Seamus felt the numbness decrease even further as Dean looked him straight in the eye, and uttered the words "You made it. WE made it."
For a moment, the luck was unbelievable, no matter what was going on with his leg right now. Seamus could only stare at Dean, all things going through his head. The past year was a lot to process and so much had happened that now, now they had come to the end of it and now maybe, just maybe, there was a future, a future to look forward to?!
Without another moment's hesitation, he lifted his head up, pulling Dean down with him, and pulling him onto his lips. There was a moment for them both where the shock of actually feeling the other's lips again, and the taste, and the movement that wasn't quite there yet had them stiffen slightly.
And then it was all Seamus could have begged for, and even more.
The rhythm was found, the relaxed tone, the taste was there again. Dean's lips always tasted this good, and now they were finally getting out what they had wanted to during that "intermission". Shouts came to them now as they stood, practically snogging each other's faces off with all their might. Maybe some of the shouts were simply taunting; but for once Seamus found the attention amusing, not terrifying.
Explosions seemed to be going off as they moved at different angles, testing out different speeds. When it was finally (and sadly, as he saw it) completed, he was standing on the ground again, gazing up at Dean. People were filtering around them and to different areas.
"I love you, Seamus." Dean grabbed at his left hand, entwining their fingers together as he said this with all the sincerity in the world.
Before there was an easily made reply, Dean was bending down and reaching his lips again, as Seamus craned his head upward to catch what he would forever claim was truly the best of it. This time it was less rough and more beautiful, more caring, more love-filled, every sweet emotion and memory pouring into it. Seamus caught glimpses in his mind of Dean, memories from years ago and memories from recently. There was nothing more satisfying to him than this. He was finally kissing Dean. They were finally together again. Any numbness or disbelief was expelled for the moment.
"I love yeh too, Dean," he saw a smile at the way his Irish twisted the words, "I'm sorry." The smile was dashed a little bit.
"Oh...Shay...it's not your fault…"
And then it was the sweeping crowd that took them away from their silent moment, the sounds of shouts still being made, and the sounds of despair ringing in again. Now was not the place or time to discuss anything. From the looks of it, they might as well help pull out people from the rubble rather than discuss feelings. Seamus gave a slightly nervous shrug, but Dean just laughed at it and gripped his hand tighter. Cleaning up came before other priorities, obviously; but the skies seemed somehow brighter as they made their way, together, to help out with what needed help.
He held out the sketchbook gently, a tear sliding down his cheek. The stone they sat on felt cold and unwelcoming. All that made the situation any better was the warm body beside his, pressed up against him comfortably, trying to make him more comfortable what with his leg and all. They had escaped the messy Great Hall and now sat outside in a corridor; Dean's arms were wrapped distractingly around his waist.
"I … I kept this… knew yeh…" The unmistakable sound of a breath being drawn in hit his ears. Along with the sketchbook was his notebook, both taken and shrunk and stuck in his pocket at the beginning of the battle. Losing both would have devastated Seamus.
"Oh Shay that's-" Dean seemed to be choking on his audible tears, eyes peering gently down at the sketchbook.
"Yeh left it on purpose, didn't yeh?"
"It was, yeah." Dean had to smile back a little at his own teasing smile, despite the tears making their way down each face. "I had to give you - I didn't know what might happen, so I left it there in hopes you might find it. I'm glad you did, Shay…"
There was no evident need in agreeing with it. Seamus was beyond grateful that it had been there, because after all those dark times, it was the only light he'd really had. The images weren't even the slightest bit damaged when he opened it making sure he had it opening to the very first page that was obviously Dean's first drawing of him. It was done with care, not colored, but gently done, as if there was a bundle of nerves behind each stroke of the drawing pencil.
The Irish boy was clearly sitting down on a bed; the pillow was what gave that away. Seamus had never gotten as far as the first few pages, but this one took his breath like every other one had. Glorious in it's own strokes and patterns, it certainly hit hard.
Dean gripped one of his hands that held the book, making gentle circles on the back of Seamus' palm with his thumb, "I always wanted to tell you I had it... Couldn't bring myself to it, not even before…"
An outburst of sobs from Dean caused him to turn around now to face the other more. He felt tears go faster down his own cheeks, and pulled the tall man close into his shirt. The very least they could give was comfort. It was body-racking sobs that engulfed Dean now, sobs that would last. Seamus allowed his emotions to give in as well. In front of Dean, there was no hiding anything.
"I shouldn't have left, Shay, I shouldn't have left," Dean was repeating, stroking his hair and gripping him tighter now. "Shouldn't have left…"
Seamus managed a small whimper when an elbow hit a definite sore spot, and Dean looked up quickly.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, a sore spot, it's okay," he shook his head to get the worry out of Dean's eyes. They needed to cry before explanations were going to go down.
"There's no words to describe this past … year… Shay, there aren't." For once, Dean was being more talkative, which happened when he was emotionally torn, and it was scary to see all that worry and longing in his eyes. Seamus wanted both to be replaced with better, healthier looks; but he knew very well he didn't look much better; if not worse.
"No...there aren't…" He nodded, voice slightly muffled by the body he was leaning into.
The soft sobs filled the air for the following minutes, hours, days, weeks, however long they sat there. Seamus wondered how he had enough tears to last any good period of time; and then realized he'd probably have this many tears for years on end now. Everything was no longer bottled up inside of anyone. The tension that was in Hogwarts all year was suddenly gone, now replaced with a feeling of emptiness or despair or fear or exhaustion - or simply sadness. Tears and grim faces.
Crying was needed. Dean was still racking against his body, shaking harder than ever, but Seamus cried quieter tears. For this time, he would be the comforter, and his love, the despaired.
It was hard to imagine how he could pick up from there. A thought flashed into his mind as he sat there at some point… a thought he was sure he'd never have again, and here it was, present as ever. This couldn't be the real Dean, it had to be a fake. A dream. A nightmare.
None of this devastation had ever happened.
A bleak morning broke over the gentle horizon; the battle had been an all-nighter situation. They had sat out in the corridor not talking for a good two hours now. Tears had been soaked up and put to rest for the time being, but neither of them wanted to talk. Seamus was still gripping Dean tightly, books laid to rest beside them.
The rest of the castle seemed to be quieter than before. People were emerging into the silent morning air at the other end of the corridor, leaving behind the inside trappings of Hogwarts. With a groan, Dean pulled himself gently away, staring blearily at the Irishman in front of him.
"What do you want to do?" It was an actual question that genuinely was asking if Seamus had anything in mind. There were more than just a few dirty thoughts at large now with the exuberant feeling of being with Dean again, but those had to be pushed aside for now. "You look so awful, Shay, I don't want you sitting on this rock the rest of the day…"
"I...can we go up and see the dormitory? I haven't...I haven't seen it for a few weeks or so, and I …" The look on Dean's face told him all he needed to know for the answer.
The walk was long, slow, tedious. It was hard getting past the large, grey chunks of wall that lay in their way, and every now and then Seamus stumbled from the pain in his body and legs. Dean was practically carrying all his weight, which was not something Seamus enjoyed because this was a skeleton man. But truly, how much more weight did Seamus have? It was the only question stopping him from demanding to be put down right now this very instant.
A few times they were forced to stop and look around for a moment as they caught their breath after trekking across some stairs or areas. The whole venture had turned into an exploration of Hogwarts itself, not a direct route to Gryffindor Tower at all. As the dim halls surrounded them, Seamus looked up at Dean for a moment to assess the damage once more. There was so much to find on one man's face…
And then they were finally at the common room door. The Fat Lady no longer stood in her painting, the door was swung open, an invitation to come in, no doubt. A push was given from behind as the smaller man tried to get in, just like all those years in the past.
Sunlight streamed in through the windows now, breaking the dusty area open. Things were thrown about: not even their common room had been saved from a war zone. It was evident students had thrown most of it around in a rush to gather people together or hide - or something, because it wasn't destroyed. No, the chairs were simply lying battered on their sides and a table was on its back with all of its legs up in the air. That would have, in a different time, made him laugh at the silly vision of those damned legs up in the air like a dead turtle.
As this was all processed through their minds - Seamus nervously toyed with the books in his hands now - he felt a hand grab him and pull him into Dean's chest, another rough hug with more than enough emotions flowing through it. For someone who hadn't seen the place for a year, it must have been hard to acknowledge that it looked this bad. Seamus felt awful for his lover to have to see it this way.
"It's...desolate…" Dean said at last, when the hug had finished and they'd pulled away, Seamus claiming a firm grip on his hand to avoid complete separation, "I've tried to picture it in my mind all year, but now that I'm here and the memories are back - I almost wish I wasn't here seeing it like this, because now this is another memory to add to the list."
There was nothing more to be said after that. Seamus merely squeezed the larger hand that was in his, and moved slowly forward, toward their bedroom with Dean in tow. There was no telling what might be in there, but he knew with Dean, he had the courage to face whatever lay before them.
Neville, Luna, Ron, Hermione, Cho, Ginny, and several others were seated around the floor in the bedroom area. All looked up as they entered; not a single smile was given on any uplifted face. But some seemed to be trying to communicate a more pleased or happy emotion on their faces without doing a complete job of it, and Seamus gave a nod to all and dragged Dean to the bed he'd spent most of his year in. They weren't going to talk amongst others right now. It felt better to be alone and together and talking, because now was definitely the time for talking.
With the bed curtains drawn close, Seamus could almost pretend they were still young and innocent, like this hadn't happened. Only the sight of their tattered clothing and the weary look on Dean's face gave it all away.
"Where do we begin?" He placed a hand on Dean's knee, circling a finger around on the kneecap. He asked it carefully; full of meaning as well.
"I don't know," only a shrug in return, "I didn't think we'd ever… this would ever… be real….again. All I can tell you is… I love you more than I think I'll ever be able to express, Seamus, which I only realized over the course of this year."
His eyes were shining their familiar chocolate brown shine. If his lips didn't say it with a smile, his eyes said it with their glow. Seamus felt himself melting under the sight.
"I … I love yeh too, loads, Dean. I don't know if I managed to learn any more about me love for yeh other than the truth," It was careful words all over the place, but words of impact, "I'd do anythin' for yeh, Dean Thomas."
It felt like ages had passed since they'd sat like this, ages and ages and ages. One year felt like a million all of a sudden, and he gasped a little with the impact, closing his eyes quickly as everything went out of him. Despite all the danger, they'd made it, and here they were.
"Shay, I think explanations of the past year can come slowly. I don't want to rush this. I can tell - no - I know it hurt you, look at you, you're a mess, but you're my mess," Dean placed a hand on his left shoulder, "And I want to keep you for as long as I can. So I think that means going slow."
He couldn't have thought of anything better to say, there was nothing better to say.
The curtains around them trembled as the door to the dorm slammed shut suddenly and a new person entered the circle, no doubt about it. There were greetings, but they remained silent on their bed. Dean continued watching him closely, Seamus could see his eyes were looking all up and down his profile. It was more of a test now than ever before.
"Can… Dean, I wrote in this all year, an' I don't know what else to do with it but to give it to you." He handed the notebook over to Dean, the leather binding cracking slightly as it was moved. Dean took it with care, eyeing it gently. They both knew this was a book full of secrets, but a book full of wonder as well. "I want yeh to start from the beginning of this year; another day can be put off for the rest of the years that are concealed in there. That's the first explanation I'll give yeh. All the details will be filled in sometime else." He was still looking at the book in Dean's large hands now, their small fingers holding it with utmost care. Those artists hands, unused and a little weary looking, were still as beautiful as he remembered them.
"I will."
"When you're finished...we can talk."
Dean suddenly dropped the book and pulled Seamus onto him, letting their lips clasp together in a hot kiss. Each feeling was a flame, one of longing and despair, but of relief as well. This was the easiest thing to melt into that had ever come upon him.
Violently pushing the dark man down onto the crisp bedsheets, he gripped the waist before him as they continued to use their force against and with one another. Soft moans escaped someone's lips. There was an immediate silence from outside the bed. Maybe now wasn't the best time to be making out - but who cared? Who honestly cared enough to make that a rule?
The flowing feeling came to a sudden stop as they pulled apart with care. Dean was staring at him as he sat up on his knees, eyes echoing warmth and longing. There was no doubt in Seamus' mind that he himself looked the exact same way right then. Without another word, he was sitting on Dean's lap with Dean's arms around his waist as Dean peeled open the book and flipped through to find the first entry of this year. Seamus only halfheartedly watched him, sinking into the soft feeling of the man behind him with glee.
Hours would no doubt pass, and maybe people would wonder what had become of them. Seamus slowly felt his mind wander until he was drifting in a sea of haze, with Dean making small comments behind him every once in a while as the book was read with extreme focus. Seeing only one side of Dean was weird, when he opened his eye again he could only see the hand holding the book. He glanced gently at what page it was on, and nodded softly at the title, which was sometime in December.
Dean squeezed him tightly suddenly as he read the page, and Seamus let out a little sigh. It was a squeeze of fear and worry. There had been one earlier, not too long ago, probably during the November entry that had described a little of the torture implemented in October. He had been completely unable to write much about that one, though, as he'd been too worried about what Dean might think if he ever read it.
As he'd explained, the entries only had so much in them. He had usually been unable to write full reports of what the tortures had been like each time, therefore, there would still be plenty of explaining to do. Sometimes some of them only said things like "Alecto got her way again" and then a rant about how much he missed Dean would follow. The topic would not return to the torture until a future entry; it was simply how the writing had flowed.
"Shay… what language did you write in here? What happened to you?" Dean muttered, a long ways in.
One glance at the short, choppy writing told all that needed to be told. Seamus had been heavily injured at the time of writing that one, no doubt, and it appeared he had been affected by the Cruciatus. The last writing he'd done, only two days ago, had been the cleanest handwriting in a while, and even that was awful. His mind was still in short thoughts.
After that, it was squeezes here and there as parts were written. Then, silence for a very, very long time. Seamus dozed off in the comfortable arms of his lover.
Gentle shaking eventually forced him to crack open his eyes, and he looked up into a dark, gently smiling face, chocolate eyes aglow. So it had been finished, a few hours later.
"Shay… I know you have more to fill in but - but I'm not sure how much more of that I can handle." Dean pulled him closer, lifting his head up now, "I'm so sorry … I had no idea leaving you here would do that. I don't know what you've seen this year...but it clearly wasn't pretty…And here I kept telling myself you were fine, you'd be okay, you'd survive. I was wrong."
"Yeh weren't … yeh weren't horribly wrong," Seamus was currently taking it into account that outside their bed, there was still murmuring. Clearly only about two hours had passed, if people were still grouped in the dorm. "I … I did suffer with reason."
"But it wasn't completely reasonable suffering, Shay, you…you probably nearly died so many times, and I couldn't… I couldn't help you at all…" Dean had buried his face deep into Seamus' hair.
"You did help me. Yeh kept me alive, Dean, yeh kept me alive more than yer thinkin'."
"How? By … by not being there and subjecting you to torture?"
A terror had entered Dean's voice that scared Seamus as much as Dean was scared for him. There had been so much that had happened. Dean wasn't the one to blame, not at all.
With soft whisperings of nonsensical words, he pulled himself up by the other's neck to look him straight in the eyes, turning his body nearly on top of Dean's now. His sight tunneled into the one eye that he could see: becoming lost in the chocolate texture that was Dean's eyes.
"They say eyes are the gateway to the soul," it didn't mean much normally, but in that moment, Seamus believed he could see into Dean's soul, and it was full of longing and love, "I wanna make sure yeh understand things before I go into any explanation. Ever. No matter when I go into them. I … I personally took it upon meself to be tortured, this year, all because… because of yeh, Dean. Because of yeh."
Dean made a little shake of the head, as if to try and convince Seamus otherwise. As if there would ever be any other person or reason to do this for.
"Dean…" He took a long look into the eye, "I did this… all... for you."
In that moment of silence, where even the outside was silent, he felt the shuddering breath being drawn. It was his and Dean's breath - both breathing in heavily at the same time.
Tears destroyed the veil of silence, ripping it to absolute shreds, as Dean lay fully down now, pulling them together. Seamus could hear the intakes of breath from outside as people heard them both break down into sobs. These were the same body-racking sobs from before, but now it was the both of them. Seamus gave in, allowing it to consume him.
Doubt, fear, rage, horror, all mixed together as they poured out of his body. Maybe other people were listening in, it truly didn't matter.
"Oh Shay, Shay I'm sorry, oh god… I'm sorry…" Dean ruffled his hair a bit more as he choked through the sobs.
There was nothing to say. No plead, nor any cry for help to be made; only the grim sounds of drying eyes and the shuffling of feet on the cold stone floors. It was simply clean, clean, clean. A bit of blood here and there could easily be cleaned up with a swipe of the wand, and the bodies were moved through the air, to be buried outside somewhere in the grounds. There was a large spot picked out for the ones that were not being placed somewhere by their families, because these were all members of Hogwarts. Respect would be shown for them, no matter how many years they had attended or how few.
All houses resided quietly there, moving slowly as they helped the process move along. This was only the beginning of it all, as later on, things were going to require building. Hogwarts would not be itself for a while.
Seamus moved along with the others; a rhythm had grown from the chores of the cold bodies that needed to be placed in the correct areas made for each one. He could hardly look at each one that was moved with care even if their faces were completely distorted. Dean moved at the other end of the Hall, assisting with the cleaning up of spots on the floor.
"He went down below a wall," A voice softly said, a hand pointing at the body Seamus was lifting, "I watched it from a distance…"
Looking up, he caught the gentle eyes of Cho Chang, who had returned to the castle for the fighting at some point or another. She was lowering her shoulders from a soft shrug. Earlier she had been kneeling by Lavender, who had been severely injured from Greyback, with Parvati. The injured were still on their platforms; but as Lavender was going to make it, Cho seemed capable of moving again. She'd been up in the dorm room at some point earlier as well.
A shudder passed through him as he thought of the events earlier. The sobs had been long, tedious, and drawn-out from both of them as they'd clung to each other. And then, faintly, he'd heard tears from outside the curtains, people joining them in their crying, probably some clinging to others.
After that they'd been requested to go down and help, although Dean had promised they'd get alone in that bed again at some point. Seamus simply wanted to talk for longer -
"Seamus? Are you okay?" Cho had been calling his name for a bit now, and he looked up suddenly, breaking from his thoughts.
"Uh, yeah, sorry. Drifted off…"
"It's fine, I was just - just worried a bit. It's hard not to be. I can't believe what you guys went through here, Lav's going to tell me loads once she's healed, she promised me that much." He had to smile at that, knowing just how much Lavender would talk once she got the chance.
There was a silence in which Cho moved away, and Seamus leant up against one of the walls, looking around.
Neville was standing beside Luna - who's arm was in a bandage - talking and looking actually happy for the first time since… Seamus wasn't sure when. That unused smile struck him with the novelty that none of them had smiled like that for ages. At least Luna could make Neville smile again, at some point in time, Seamus hadn't been sure he'd ever see anyone smile again.
The rest of the Great Hall was slowing down in their work, drifting to other parts of the castle. Food was being served at some point in the evening for all. No one was leaving quite yet. Even the Slytherins had remained here, and Seamus was sure he'd seen Malfoy skulking around somewhere.
A tall shadow came over his limited vision, and Seamus looked to see Dean standing in front of him, a gentle look on Dean's face now. And for the first time in that long year, Seamus smiled in the Great Hall, and it was one of his genuine smiles that lit up the room.
"I feel guilty asking this of you, love, but… I think … could we sleep together again? Tonight?" Seamus couldn't quite get over the fact that Dean was using adorable nicknames, but he nodded a bit.
Hogsmeade had managed to supply places to sleep in for everyone who was assisting with the cleaning that could be done, and Seamus had wanted so badly for Dean to ask this question, even the dusty bedroom and old beds wouldn't convince him out of it. Yes, their friends might be right next door or outside or whatever, but they had been sleeping in the same bed for years. No one would notice anything terribly different.
Glowing moonlight flooded the room as Seamus prepared to settle in bed. A wicked look had entered in the other man's eyes as they'd begun to get ready, and despite all the aches and pains in his body, Seamus sure hoped that look meant what he thought it meant. He settled onto the bed, listening to the sounds of people moving across the hall, through the wall too.
"Where should we start? Softly, of course," he smirked at the taller man, knowing Dean would try for rough right from the beginning.
But true to his word, Dean kept with a gentle kiss at first. Soft lips touched Seamus' chapped ones, causing him to arch up slightly to get at them. Movement was common after that. Dean made his way to Seamus' neck when he suddenly looked up, eyes filled with lust and longing. The feeling had Seamus begging for him to continue.
"Shay, can you take off your shirt?"
It hit him that he had never written much about his own appearance through all of those months in the journal entries. Now the truth would come out as his shirt came off. Dean would learn of all that had happened. He would know.
The hesitation (that was blatantly obvious) caused Dean to back off a little. Concern peered across his dark face.
"Su-sure." The nod was slow, but meaningful.
In an instant, his shirt was off; and Dean was suddenly gaping at him, as his eyes slowly took in every scar. Each whip mark stood out brightly against his already extraordinarily pale skin. The bruises that had never really healed in the past weeks were still visible all over the place, and there was probably some torn skin. Seamus kept his eye off of his own body, but watched as Dean was left open-mouthed.
"Shay…" Dean sounded so concerned it hurt something in his chest to hear it. "Shay, what did they do to you?"
Suddenly words were gone. He could only shake his head and bite back the tears that had randomly appeared in his throat. No.
"Shay, love, talk to me. Please. Look at you," the tone was so … sorry, "look what they did to you...what they've done to you…"
"I know…" The breath he drew in was extremely shaky and yet he had heard the tears in Dean's voice too, in fact, he could see them, brimming in Dean's eyes, threatening to overflow. "I know."
Things appeared to have escalated faster than he'd predicted, but it was no surprise Dean was in shock and terrified.
"Oh Seamus…" Tears had found the surface and were silently pouring down those beautifully crafted cheekbones."They did so much...took so much…"
"They didn't take you, Dean." He watched those watery chocolate eyes turn up to him. "That's all that matters. I love you. Dean, I love you so fecking much and I can't even begin to express to you how much you mean to me because even a really tough shag couldn't show you all of those emotions."
There was a small smile at his choice of words, but the tears were still pouring. Lifting a hand, he touched Dean's face delicately, wiping away each tear as it came down his face. Scars were always going to be part of his life. He knew it, and now the one who'd have to deal with it almost as frequently did too.
"God...Shay…look-did they whip you on your chest?!" It was a shout or a yell - almost. Seamus almost thought he heard the noise outside the room disappear at this exclamation, but he let it be.
"Y-yes…" This time it was stuttered due to tears clogging up his airway, seeing Dean cry this much over him was almost unbearable.
"Ho-no...that's...bloody hell…" Dean was sobbing now. "That's insane, Shay."
"I know, I know Dean, I know…" He took one of the long fingered hands in his, gently entwining his fingers in the dark ones.
"Multiple times too by the looks of it." A choking noise was heard as Dean tried to overcome one of many sobs, but he wasn't looking at Seamus anymore, as if he was ashamed of crying.
"What did that?" The touch on his knife wound was strangely arousing and he felt a tremor pass through him as Dean's fingers lightly touched it.
"Knife to the gut...December…" He choked it out, but still did not break his gaze with Dean.
"A knife?" Horror seeped into Dean's voice.
"He...it was him…" Shaking his head, he found he was unable to speak the name of the man who had brought so much torment into his life.
"Shay…"
"Dean, look at me, babe." With the other hand, he lifted Dean's chin up to look at him. "What I went through...it'll always be there on my body. It's shocking as hell, I know…"
"Shay-god…you're...I...Seamus…" Dean almost shook his head right out of his hand. The sobs had become completely racking ones, and with a gentle touch of his arms, he pulled Dean on top of him, ignoring any of the pain coming from the newest bunches of bruises that hurt quite a lot still. The pain didn't matter. What mattered was Dean.
The huge sobs shaking the black man's thin body were heartbreaking. Seamus didn't care that all of the tears were soaking into his skin, he didn't care about the way his bruises were crying out against the pain of the heavy head. The initial shock was still being processed for Dean, and he needed to let it pass.
"Shay… Shay what's all over your back, turn around, please," No, no not more of this, no matter how much Dean could feel on his back. "I mean it, Shay…"
All of his willpower left him, and he gave in. Letting go completely of the taller man, he turned around and sat there so Dean could see for himself the desolation that was Seamus' back. It was pockmarked, and there were lines all over from the whip, rigid lines like there were on his chest. Each bruise was significantly larger on his back, Seamus had felt it enough to know that most of his back was one giant bruise. From the sounds of the quick, sucking in breaths, Dean was staring at all of this in utter horror.
"Your back is one giant bruise." It was an awkwardly loud statement - and also it was as if his thoughts had been read - but Seamus gave only a nod. "Shay, how do you stand? How have you been standing?"
"I...Dean…" Turning so he could see the other, he gave a sad smile at the sobbing mess that was his dearly beloved, "Some things you're … you're forced to learn."
A moment passed where Dean stared at him in absolute horror, face tilted, tears still going down in their familiar pattern, and then Seamus found himself tackled under Dean on the bed. There was a head on his neck now, nestling in, as the sobs became hard and very loud again. A few tears slipped from his own eyes now.
The moon was slipping quietly into the night still, climbing higher in the sky. What had started out crisp and pure was now racked with pain and longing and disappointment and fear. Perhaps some other time they might have a good night. For now, it was merely the acceptance of his body that Seamus was longing for and gaining most.
The grounds echoed with the sounds of people saying their goodbyes through the bright sunlit courtyard and at the gates. Even though much destruction still remained in this area - left for the larger clearing groups the Ministry may send some day in the future - the large swarm of people were gathered out here. Some were in clumps all over, some mingled through various "clumps". Seamus had been one of those drifting through people, saying goodbye with much reluctance.
These were some of the people who had struggled through what he had all year long, after all - it felt wrong to leave them now. Now, when the worst parts could resurface in one's head. Now, when they were just getting their lives back in place. Back to where they were before the year? No, not quite, especially not in his case, but somewhere close.
Somewhere… somewhere close.
Harry stood at the center of a group of people, saying goodbye individually of course. Many were wishing him more luck than he seemed able to give back out to them. It was with whatever amusement Seamus could muster that he watched Neville take a very long time to say goodbye to the Boy Who Lived. The humor was lack-luster of course; as he realized that he was saying goodbye to people he'd lived with for 6 to 7 years.
"Hey, Seamus," Neville had finished up hugging Harry, and was standing in front of him now. He looked up, and smiled gently, but only really half-heartedly… this was it, wasn't it?
"Oi, mate, you're looking a little teary-eyed there." Teasing about that meant nothing, Seamus wanted to break down and bawl right then and there.
"Get in here, you idiot," Grabbing him, the taller boy wrapped his arms strongly around Seamus.
Moments like these were always hard to find for Seamus. All the overwhelming emotion of it was choking him, because as he'd thought, this really was it. Neville had been through so much with him. They'd actually made it, they'd made it and he was not hesitant to babble that into Neville's ear.
"We feckin' made it, Neville, we made it,"
"I hardly believe it…" Neville was as breathless as he at this fact.
It was only when they pulled away did he realize that he'd been crying gently, as was Neville. For a moment, he just watched the other boy. Hell and back. Sure, different sections of hell, but hell all the same. Maybe their own private sections of hell, in fact, but all part of one giant hell. The battered appearance of both of their faces' was enough to prove it, Neville looked as bad as he did - face wise - or at least close.
"We're gonna talk sometime, Nev." It was meaningful.
"I'll find you somehow," Neville grinned, "And… Seamus, just so you know… I don't think I'm ever going to forget this year. So if you need to talk it out…and I mean you're allowed to talk about it to Dean too, but if you need to talk it out with me for some odd reason, I'd be really happy to oblige. It would be… different from other people who didn't … do what we did, you know?"
"Yes. Yeah, that would be nice. I'll send an owl yer way sometime,"
With that, Neville gripped Seamus' shoulder once more and squeezed it; and walked away. Seamus watched his retreating figure for a few steps, the tears not stopping and the choking feeling still there. Wow. Wow was all he could think for a moment or two, ignoring all of the hundreds of people around him who may have seen him crying. All the people saying goodbye themselves. But not like that goodbye; not like that goodbye.
"Seamus?" It was Harry, coming up from behind him now, and he turned to offer a weak smile at the raven-haired boy who he'd called his "insane roomie" for years now. "Sorry if I intruded, I .. it's nice to get away from people you hardly know sometimes, and … Sorry."
"Oh, yeh got nothin' to be sorry for. I just had to send off Neville." He shrugged pathetically, and Harry offered a smile as well. "So, yeh going to be busy as ever now?"
"Yes, I … I probably am. But hey, if you want to meet up and whatever, you and Dean, we'll probably manage to get a group scrapped together in a few months or something. Ginny and I already started talking about it. Exclusively school friends and all, but a dinner group of sorts. Dean said he'd be okay with it, so I sort of assumed you would be too."
"That sounds nice. Gives me an excuse to leave the house, probably, chances of leaving it… I don't know, but yeah. I like that thought." He nodded.
Harry proceeded to do the same thing Neville had, which was pull him into a hug, although, a little unlike Neville's, it was only a half-hug, and then a handshake. Seamus knew very well that normally hugs were off limits for them, but Neville was almost as much of an exception to that rule as Dean was, at least after this past year. He smiled up at Harry, and nodded again.
"Well, don't yeh be gettin' too famous and forgetting the rest of us," Seamus allowed a small chuckle, emotions from earlier a bit easier to breath through now, "I would really like to come to a dinner meeting and not be third-wheeling it or whatever."
"No problem. See you around, Seamus."
Someone came and swept Harry away at that moment, which was perfectly fine. Seamus
glanced around again. Through the bright sunlight and the slight breeze came a blonde head - a person not much bigger than he was, or not taller at all - bobbing as she moved. Luna.
"I'm probably going to be very brief about this as Neville is waiting for me, but thank you for so much Seamus, and you'll have to thank me too, after you find out what I've done for you," She was grinning in her own secret way, and he took her hand and shook it as she offered it to him.
"I'm sure I will," He smiled back. She was gone in a flash again; Neville must have been
growing "telepathically" impatient with her.
Now it was time to catch his breath again. All around the area were students he'd seen tortured through the year, students who knew him as the one person who had stood up against the evil ones in the school but who might never really talk about him. He wouldn't be Harry, he wouldn't even be Neville. He would merely be that Irish boy who got really beat up because he stood for what was right. That was enough for Seamus, because who really wants to be famous?
A pair of strong arms wrapped around his neck suddenly, a shadow falling over him from
the tall person above him. He looked up into the chocolate warm eyes that stared back down at him, a faint smile on Dean's lips.
"Are you ready?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Dean grinned, and picked him up bridal style, Seamus found himself laughing
harder now as he was forced to put his arms around the taller man's neck now, and they exited with shouts from various people who might have known them, might have not.
The train ride back would be the one he hadn't gotten this year. They would for sure get a compartment to themselves since not too many people were taking the train back, and Seamus couldn't wait for what he would do to Dean in there. They exited the grounds on foot this time, Dean still carrying him along the dampened road where many others walked along with them.
With bright sunlight casting long shadows onto it, with the sun high in the sky, with birds singing in the trees, the blackness that had once been in the air around the castle was gone. A beautiful feeling rushed through him as he looked at Dean's face again. They were okay. This was okay.
This was enough for Seamus, because who really needed anything other than a lover who was ready as all hell to go through whatever he had to be to get this relationship fixed and actually going? And who really needed anything, anything at all but the love that all those Death Eaters would never have?
Seamus didn't know. And he hoped he never did.