Susan must have been the first to enter the Great Hall that morning, Seamus thought, and he wondered if she'd even slept. She sat perfectly still at the very top of Hufflepuff's table, her eyes trained on Smith, her breaths so small that it she seemed almost statuesque. Snape and the Carrows hadn't even arrived yet when Seamus found her.

Smith himself must have lost consciousness at some point in the night, whether it was from hunger, pain or exhaustion, no one could know, and his head hung limply from his neck, his wrists dangling from their roped stronghold, mouth open, breathing ragged and shallow.

The others had sat themselves around Susan, but not very close, as if they were afraid to disturb her, as if she might crack if they touched her. Even Hannah, who sat across from her friend, didn't, or couldn't, speak to her, and she kept her gaze on her plate, though she barely touched the food. Anthony had a strange steely glint in his eye and a hard jut to his jaw when he slipped in next to Seamus. Ernie clapped them both solemnly on the back as he took a seat.

"Poor chap," he said, flicking his eyes to Smith. No one answered.

Seamus felt heavy. He had not been able to sleep, and when he finally did drift into some kind of slumber, Dean's letter tight in his hand, it was nearly dawn. He felt heavy, the letter felt heavy in his pocket, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, like lead.

He wished he'd been alone when the owl had thumped his wings into the window, so that he could have kept the letter to himself just for a bit and hold the words that were meant just for him close without having to share them.

Anyway, Neville had been there, and he had read the sentences out loud for him, and now he'd read them again so much they were burned on the back of his eyes.

S –

Don't get mad I'm writing this. It's Sunday, and I'm in your house. I think your mum's gone to church. The wards still let me in, so I don't think it's really breaking and entering, technically. Don't call the Aurors on me.

Seamus felt vaguely that he should be angry that Dean would be so stupid to write and send a letter that could be so easily intercepted, but he'd found no evidence of tampering, seen no odd ruffling of feathers, so all he felt was relief.

I'm all right, I'm alive. I met up with someone else a couple weeks ago and we've been travelling together since. He's a great bloke, says he knows G, and N's parents. I got injured around Halloween, splinched my leg something fierce while trying to get away from some Snatchers before I knew about the Taboo, but I'm better now. He helped me a lot.

Fucking Snatchers. Seamus had heard of them, vultures searching for Muggle-Borns to report, though he'd been in Hogwarts by the time the first groups had cropped up, and had never actually seen any.

You were right (don't let it go to your head), I'm not cut out for this outdoors-y stuff. My partner is better at it, and he thought me how to fish and set traps for rabbits. You'd be so proud of me. I hope it's not too crap for you and the others, but if I know you lot, you're holding your own. I've still got my coin, and I get all the messages.

That sentence, no matter how many times he read it, filled Seamus with something hard, and it ached in his throat and his chest.

I know you'd hit me for being so sentimental, but I fucking miss you. I didn't know how much I would when I left.

He'd underlined that last bit twice, and the ink had blotched and splattered at the end with the force of it.

I took some clothes and blankets from your room, and some food from your cupboards. I hope your mum doesn't mind. I can't stay and explain, it's better if she doesn't see me, though I've left her a note. I don't want to risk sending an owl to my parents, do you think you could find a way to contact them for me? I'm sorry for putting this on you. And tell the others I'm thinking of them, and I miss them too.

We're leaving the country again today. Magic doesn't work right around here, unless you're in a town, but I guess you know that. Merlin, but it's beautiful. I've seen parts of Britain I didn't even know existed, and I wish I could paint it all. Hope you're taking good care of my sketchbooks!

I've got to go now. Wish you were here, or I was there, and that this war was over.

Your brother,

D

P.S. Did you know you've gotten a cat? Ugly, scratchy thing. I think your mum's lonely. Write to her.

"Seamus? What's that?"

He hadn't even realized he'd taken the letter from his pocket, hadn't registered the words as he read them, hadn't even noticed Luna sitting across from him, hadn't even felt the others turn to stare at him. He looked up, startled.

"It's, uh…" He stared at Luna, who had a daisy tucked behind her ear in her long white hair. A daisy, in November. He cleared his throat, finally noticing Anthony, Ernie and Hannah looking at him. "A letter from Dean."

Luna's smiled serenely at him. "Oh. How is he?"

"Dean wrote to you? Is he mad?" Ernie hissed.

"Could be. I don't think he's doing as well as he lets on," he said. His ears heard how dead his voice sounded, but he couldn't be arsed to do anything about it. "He says he's missing you all, and that he still reads all our messages on the coins."

Anthony tilted his head at him. "Huh, do you suppose many of the original group kept their coins?'

Just then, Neville and Ginny walked up, and sat themselves either side of Luna.

"All right, Seamus?" Neville said softly. He nodded at the letter, still held between callused fingers. "Gin's pretty sure she knows who his partner is, though I don't think you'd know him."

"And I'd rather not, in case I'm ever questioned about it." He looked up at the empty seats on the dais, then to Smith, who was still tied, though his captors had said they would release him this morning.

"Is she okay?"

It took Seamus a second to understand to whom Neville was referring, until he realized Susan was still staring rigidly at her House-mate, oblivious to their speaking of her. He briefly wondered if the two were dating, and it was a thought that saddened him. Hannah sighed.

"She blames herself, you know. She's the one who convinced him to join up again this year, he didn't want to," she said. "His family's business isn't doing too well, what with the exchanged rates being all skewed up because of the war, and…"

"No one forced him to do anything." Ginny's tone was clipped and unaffected. "Defend Susan, but you certainly don't have to defend him."

"Ginny!" Ernie looked properly scandalized.

"I'm not saying he deserves this—"

"No one does," Luna murmured.

"—well, some do, just not him. But we have rules in place for a reason, and there are always consequences—" she stabbed a sausage with her fork forcefully "—to—" she slid her knife into it as if it had personally affronted her "—our—" another stab "—actions." She popped the piece of meat in her mouth and chewed loudly, swallowing with an audible, harsh gulp. "It could have been Hannah, or Susan, or Seamus," she said lewdly, "because he put us all in danger when he decided to go faffing about in the corridors like a stupid selfish troll."

If it hadn't been for the chatter surrounding them, and the scraping of forks and knives and the spilling of juice and scratching of quills, it would have been deathly silent. Ernie's mouth hung open and Neville looked a bit like he'd tickled a sleeping dragon, a dragon who'd reared up and blown fire on their arses. They all stared at her as she kept on chewing violently.

Finally, a peep from Luna: "Ginny?"

Just then, the Great Hall really did fall quiet, though not, Seamus concluded, because of Ginny's outburst, but because of two of Hogwart's three Death Eaters and a widely-grinning wannabe were making their way regally down the centre lane, chins up, shoulders square.

"Sue," Ernie said, nudging his friend softly. Susan looked up him sharply, the first sign of movement she'd made in twenty minutes, then looked beyond him to the small procession getting closer to the front of the hall.

"Ennervate," Amycus said, his voice amplified by magic. Smith raised his head slowly, painstakingly, and his eyes were listless and red-rimmed. Something akin to a sob wrenched its way out of Susan' mouth, but when Ernie went to grab her hand, she batted it away quickly, her gaze intent on the Carrows and Filch, who was bobbing along behind them.

"Smith! I trust you had a restful night?" Amycus cried. Zach's head lolled to the side, but he did not speak. "When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it, you idiot Hufflepuff!"

The whole student body and faculty held their breaths. Finally, Smith tilted his head so it lay on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Sir, you've rendered me speechless," he said, his voice dry and cracked like a desert in a drought.

"The cheek!" Alecto said, cackling. "Seems to me you haven't learned your lesson!"

"Ma'am, Professor Carrow, maybe Smith would benefit from another night?" Filch wheezed, sounding reverent and entirely too happy at the concept. Bile rose up in Seamus' mouth, bitter and warm.

The siblings laughed again, and Smith's head rolled forward again, his weak muscles unable to support it.

"I would think not," came the voice of Professor McGonagall, who'd appeared at the entrance, her robes swishing grandly as she strode forward. Her eyes seemed black in their fury.

When she got close enough, she flicked her wand at Smith, who fell forward immediately when his ropes vanished, though he fell softly, and Seamus suspected she'd added a cushioning charm and one to slow his descent. Susan jumped up instantly and made to run to Smith, but she stopped abruptly, one foot in the air, and turned to look at Ginny and Neville, and unspoken question whirling around them.

Ginny looked down at her plate, but Neville nodded almost imperceptibly, and Susan took the acquiescence and skittered to her friend, taking the stairs two at a time, lunging for Smith when she'd reached the last one. She gathered him in her arms, and he was too weak to protest, though Seamus thought he might have had he been able to.

Ernie cast a long look at the Carrows before getting up to join Susan and Zach on the dais. He whispered something to Smith, who shook his head weakly before Ernie scooped up the smaller man in his arms and brought him down to the table.

"You'll pay for that, you meddling bitch!" Amycus said, back turned to Smith, facing McGonagall. He levelled his wand at her, and Seamus felt a sharp surge of anger rise up to his face, staining his vision scarlet. How dare he speak to McGonagall like that? She had taught them, she was more powerful than anybody he had ever known save Dumbledore, what made them so fearless? His heart beat faster, too fast, but his head of house, of course, seemed unfazed.

"Shall I escort Mr. Smith to the infirmary, or can I trust you to do it?" she said, but it felt more like an accusation than a question, like an order.

Smith was currently being fed ripped pieces of dry toast by Susan, alternating with taking huge gulps of water by Ernie, who was holding him up. His eyes barely flickered at McGonagall as she spoke.

"Ha! I don't think so. He's already missed a day of classes, I'm positive he won't want to fall behind even more." Alecto's voice was sickly sweet, cloying, and Seamus felt the anger rush on his skin like sparks of electricity, fill his stomach like acid, flow through his veins like fire. He could almost smell the smoke, he could see the smoke, he could hear…

Someone screamed.

"Seamus, what are you doing? Sit down!" said a voice near him, he didn't know whose, he didn't care whose, he just felt the sharp crackle of flame licking his skin, the heat caressing his fingers, and then everything went black.

::

When Seamus came to, the first thing he smelled was… pepper. And then he felt softness, like a bed, but it wasn't his bed, the sheets were rougher, so he thought, yes, the infirmary, and it was confirmed when his eyes flew open to see the high vaulted ceiling of the hospital wing. His head felt hot, his ears scalding, and he reach up to touch a lobe. Steam was billowing out of his head. Well, that explained the pepper – someone, probably Madam Pomfrey, had given him a Pepperup Potion at some point.

He stretched his toes and his fingers, feeling an ache deep in his muscles that reminded him of work on the wharfs in the summer. Groaning and closing his eyes tightly, not yet ready to face the sunlight, he cricked his neck first left, then right, the struggled to sit up, though it was a challenge. Suddenly, he felt hands on his ribs, pulling him up, and a pillow was place behind his back. His eyes blinked open to find the face of Zacharias Smith staring at him. There was no one else around, so it must have been him.

Seamus looked at the Hufflepuff, who sat back down on a chair next to the hospital bed. Smith seemed… better. Awake. The dark circles under his eyes had receded, which led Seamus to wonder what time it was, and then, more pressingly—

"What happened?" he asked, surprised at the hoarseness of his voice.

Smith sniffed in mirthless chuckle, and crossed his arms. "You don't remember setting fire to the Carrows?"

He can't have. Could he? The memory was vague – he remembered heat, swirling grey smoke…

"Not really," he said.

"You've been out two days, it's Wednesday afternoon. Pomfrey said it drained nearly all of your magic."

Two and a half days.

"The… The Carrows?" Seamus croaked. If he had injured them… He'd have to run. Go find Dean. Hide.

Smith waved his hand. "Oh, they're fine, Flitwick put it out fast enough and they were only here for the day."

"Ah." He should have felt relief.

"They're… not happy, though. Wanted to throw you in the dungeons, but Pomfrey convinced them otherwise. You're going to have to watch your back."

Seamus contemplated this. Maybe it would be best to run, after all. He sighed.

"I didn't even know I could do that," he murmured.

"I didn't know anybody could," said Smith.

Seamus looked down at his hands. He'd felt the blaze there, in his palms, and the flames had danced on his skin, and he'd liked it.

"Was I on fire?" he asked, and the look Smith gave him, like he had lost his mind, was enough of an answer.

"I think I would have mentioned that," Smith said tightly.

"Why are you here?"

The air was taut between them, pregnant and waiting, for ten long seconds.

Then, "Ernie told me about what Michael did, the spell. I wanted to say that I understand, but that I wouldn't have said anything anyway."

"Might not have been up to you."

"Maybe. But I also want to say that I'm not coming back, even if you did want me back. I can't… I'm not like you. I can't take those kinds of risks, and I can't put my faith in a bunch of kids with a few jinxes memorized. That's all."

He stood and began to walk away without another word.

"Then who are you going to put your faith in?" Seamus called out suddenly, and Smith stopped, turning back slowly.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

They stared for a long minute at each other, each trying to guess what the other was thinking, what his motivations were, before Smith pivoted and walked to the door soundlessly.

Looking down at his hands, Seamus noticed for the first time that Dean's letter was still clenched in his right one, where it had been for over two days. He wondered what Dean would say now.