[content warning: misgendering, almost deadnaming, discussion of past transphobia]

They waited a moment, unsure, unbelieving, and then they screamed and cheered. Tumultuous applause and sobs of joy spilled out of them as the sun continued to rise, dying everything gold with its light. The crowd surged toward Harry, and he quickly disappeared underneath the mass of arms and bodies trying to congratulate him.

Voldemort's body was moved out of the Hall, and the bodies of the fallen still lined the center of the room. McGonagall summoned the House tables back, and everybody sat in groups throughout the Hall. Pomfrey and St. Mungo's healers and various other helpers still worked on the wounded at the front. Parvati was up on the dais, holding Lavender's hand, whose unwounded eye was open and blinking. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were nowhere to be found, but that wasn't unusual. Neville was sitting by his sword, surrounded by new admirers and being praised by his grandmother.

All around them were the dead and the wounded, the battered and the living. People cried tears of joy and tears of sorrow. It was a gathering of celebrators, of mourners, and of something in between.

Parents and family members and friends continued flooding into the castle. It appeared that word of the nightlong battle had reached all of the outside world, and adults and owls poured consistently into the Great Hall. Most were coming to pick up their children and take them home, away from the nightmares and the memories. A train would be coming tomorrow morning to take everybody else.

McGonagall had put up postings that the school year would end early and final exams would be cancelled. A special round of O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams would be held in July, and anyone who wished to repeat their year would be allowed to do so, but nobody had to. Order members who weren't badly injured left almost immediately after the battle to go to the Ministry to round up known Voldemort supporters there, and Seamus smiled at the thought of Umbridge in Azkaban. House elves flitted around bringing food and drinks to everyone. Some ate hungrily, and some couldn't bring themselves to eat even one morsel.

"So what now?" Dean asked.

"What d'ye mean?"

"Well—"

"Sio—Sea—Finnigan!" someone screamed hysterically as they came into the Hall. "Finnigan! Finnigan?!"

Seamus sat frozen on the bench, his fingers intertwined with Dean's. His mother looked more frazzled than he'd ever seen her in his life. Her curly strawberry blonde hair was in a frizz around her face, her eyes strained as she scanned the hall, her hands shaking as she gripped her tote bag.

"Finnigan!" she screamed again, and Seamus stood up, still holding tightly to Dean's hand.

Her eyes went right to him, and he flinched. He hadn't seen his mother in eleven months. He'd thought about her occasionally, wondered if she was thinking of him, if she missed him, if she regretted their fight. Mrs. Finnigan's chest started heaving when she saw him, and she brought her shaking free hand up to her mouth as tears fell from her eyes.

"My girl!" she cried, running forward and wrapping him in her arms.

Seamus stiffened and didn't return the embrace, though every bone in his body wanted to. He wanted to tell her to forget everything he'd said last June, to ignore everything and push it down, just so he could be loved by his mother again. It wasn't so bad before, right? And if she was happy and loved him, wouldn't he be happy?

But he felt Dean's hand still in his, Dean's thumb rubbing rhythmic circles in his skin. Seamus squeezed Dean's hand once, then let go and used both of his hands to gently break his mother's hold.

She stared at him with shock and worry in her eyes, gripping his face with her hands. "Sio—um, asthore," she said, "have ye seen the healers yet? Ye're hurt. And ye're so skinny, where have ye been all this time? I didn't know if ye were alive or dead, and I wrote to the school but never got any replies—"

"I've been on the run," Seamus replied, "with Dean."

Mrs. Finnigan seemed to notice Dean for the first time, her eyes dimly recognizing him from the two times they'd met before. "Dean. Right."

"He's Muggle-born—or thought he was, at least," Seamus said, glancing at Dean. Dean looked down. They hadn't had much time to talk about or process the revelation that Dean's biological father was a wizard after all. "We knew they'd go after him, and we figured they wouldn't like a trans poofter like me either," Seamus added, his voice gaining a sharp edge.

"Dearie, please," she said. "Let's not do—"

"Last time I saw ye, ye said I couldn't come home unless I dropped this 'being a boy' nonsense," Seamus said, heat rising in his face. "But it's not nonsense, Mam. It's who I am."

"Darling, ye've no idea how I regret—"

"Ye can regret all ye want, but I need ye to accept me!" Seamus exclaimed. "I'm a gay man, and Dean is my boyfriend."

Mrs. Finnigan's eyes flashed to Dean again, and he shrunk back like he didn't want to be included in this just yet.

"I-I know, I…I love ye so much. I can't lose ye, and I…I'm willing to try," she said. "I can't pretend to understand all of this or what it means, but I promise I'll try. Come home, dearie, come home, and I'll try."

Seamus' eyes filled with tears, but he shook his head, and her hands fell from his cheeks. "I can't. I can't get sucked back in again."

"Sio—Seamus. Seamus, right? I couldn't remember," Mrs. Finnigan mumbled. He'd never seen her so unsure of herself.

He nodded. "Yeah, Seamus."

"I like it," Mrs. Finnigan said. "A good, strong name."

The tears began to fall, and he rubbed his hands over his eyes. His chest ached painfully, but he kept on.

"Seamus, I love ye. Please, let's—"

"If ye try, Mam, and I mean really try, then ye won't lose me," Seamus said. "I love ye, too, and this is hard for me. But I can't go home. If I go home, then it'll be too easy to be who I was, not who I am."

"But where will ye go?"

"He'll stay with me," Dean said, standing up finally. "And my parents and sisters."

Mrs. Finnigan eyed him. "And yer parents…do they…"

"They know everything," Dean replied. "We were staying with them before we went on the run."

She nodded slowly. "But…"

"I'll write to ye," Seamus said. "I'll visit, too. I just need to be on my own, Mam. Especially after all this."

"I…I understand," she replied. "I'm so sorry ye had to face all this on yer own. I'm so proud of ye." Her hand came up to cup the side of his face. "So proud."

The tears flowed freely from Seamus' cheeks now, and he reached out and hugged his mother. Her arms wrapped around him, so familiar, so comforting, and he let himself drown in how much he'd missed her over the past months.

Finally, when the tears slowed to a halt, her hands stopped rubbing his back, and they pulled apart from each other.

"Well," she said with a weak smile, and he could tell she'd been crying too. "I suppose I'll go home, then. Are ye staying?"

Seamus looked at Dean, and then nodded. "Yeah, we'll take the train tomorrow."

"Write when ye arrive safe, please."

"Yes, Mam."

She nodded slowly. "I'll just ask Minerva if there's anything I can do to help, then I'll be on my way." She laid her hand on his cheek. "I love ye, S-Seamus. I love ye, my…my child."

It wasn't son, but it wasn't daughter either. It was progress. His face cracked into yet another smile. "Thank ye, Mam. I love ye too."

Mrs. Finnigan kissed his cheek, then walked to the entrance hall where McGonagall was directing the flow of foot traffic. Seamus watched her go with a longing look, and then turned and buried his face in Dean's chest. Dean's arms came up around his shoulders, and Seamus cried again. He didn't cry for long, though. He guessed his body might finally be all out of tears.

Seamus thought about his body for a moment, and the way it felt pressed against Dean's. He hadn't realized when, but at some point in the year he'd stopped thinking about it as a female body and just thought of his as his body. And he was stunned by the realization that he actually liked his body.

He was proud of the muscles he'd gained through travel and hard work, proud of the way it had kept going even when he'd thought it couldn't. There was nothing actually wrong with the body he had. Society told him that his soul and the shape of his body didn't match, but society also told him that he shouldn't love Dean, so what did society really know anyway?

"You have the strongest heart of anyone I know," Dean murmured.

Seamus smiled, remembering back to his Sorting seven years ago, when the sorting hat said he had strength of heart and put him in Gryffindor, and when McGonagall said his strength of heart was inspiring last year.

He thought about all his heart had endured. Bullying, unrequited love, jealousy, betrayal, war, death, and more, and yet it was still beating. There it was, pounding away in his chest, an ever-present reminder that he was alive, that he was here in this moment. How easy it is, Seamus thought, to forget about your own heart. Ye forget to appreciate it as the miracle it is.

Seamus pulled away and looked up at him, and then Dean leaned down and kissed him. Seamus' heart swelled with love, with true love, and he knew then that his heart could survive anything, especially if Dean was by his side.

So it was then that they decided, without words, that they'd face whatever came tomorrow, and the next day, and all the days after that, and they'd do it together, with their hearts beating as one.

Thank you for reading! And thank you to everyone who's supported me and my writing through the years. I hope you're all staying safe out there, and that you know you have unbelievable strength in your hearts as well.

~Ki

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