Author's Note: You ever just leave two fanfics unfinished for a few years, then come back and publish something entirely different late at night when you ought to be writing an essay? ...Me neither. Feedback would be great. And, of course, I must acknowledge that these characters are not mine and I'm sadly not getting rich off them.

Something Bright and Brilliant

It was Dean who'd managed a corporeal Patronus first.

It was, oddly enough, a red fox. Not exactly what Seamus would have expected from his friend. The fox was a cunning trickster in many fables and myths, an animal associated with lively mischief, and Dean was hardly a mischievous sort. Not to say he didn't have a sense of humour- he did, and Seamus appreciated it very much- but Dean was more of a quietly confident, steady, artistic sort, the counterbalance to Seamus' recklessness and more energetic and impatient self.

Nevertheless, Dean had a Patronus, and it was beautiful (like Dean himself, not that Seamus would ever tell him, but he'd grown to love the expressive brown eyes, curly hair, brilliant smile, graceful artist's hands-) and he was looking at it with a strange expression. It was a smile, yes, but was that confusion in his gaze, surprise in the slight lift of his eyebrows? Used to reading Dean's expressions as he was, Seamus couldn't be sure, but he shrugged mentally and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Nice one, mate," Seamus congratulated with a wide grin. "Teach me how to do that, will ya?" He'd had to stretch his arm up a little as usual to administer the clap, reminding him (as if he could ever forget) of their height difference. Seamus was short and Dean was tall and thus the latter's shoulders were nearly on a level with his friend's head. And for some bloody reason, it was one of the things about Dean which most often afflicted Seamus with a sort of flustering warmth.

Seamus dismissed his thoughts as Dean turned to him and the slightly strange smile broadened into something more genuine and pleasant to see, and nearly evoked an involuntary flush in response.

"Course I will, Shay."

Perhaps he would have said something more, but Harry chose that moment to call an end to the meeting. He dismissed them with a few words of encouragement, and by the time Seamus was back in Gryffindor Tower and getting ready for bed, all wonder about the Patronus had slipped his mind, replaced by tired thoughts of sleep.

—

The lake was always much less dark and uninviting when it was doused in sunshine, and today was one of those where the clouds were only wispy fragments that allowed the bright rays to glint on the still waters. On the quiet shore furthest from Hogwarts, Dean stood behind his best friend, trying to calm his heartbeat and will any sweat from his palms as he guided Seamus' hands in the wand motion for a Patronus, fingers curled over the other boy's, which grasped his wand.

"It's like a twirl, the way you trace the shape," he said softly, trying hard to not notice how Seamus' hand was smaller than his, and a bit rougher. He could feel the small scars which littered that hand as well. Burn scars; a few tiny scars from the only time he'd punched something in a rather stupid attempt to blow off steam (it was a tree), and a scar from where he'd tried to clamber over a fence when he was younger, and had one spike go through the flesh between thumb and palm.

Seamus was a bit prone to injury, and not so prone to tending to those injuries. Dean had amassed quite an skill for healing over the years to better look after him.

He nearly started as he realised his thumb had absently been caressing Seamus' hand, and swore mentally.

Since he'd succeeded with his Patronus, everything had gone to hell.

He should've figured it out, long before. But it was his Patronus memory, and its red fox shape, which finally got into Dean's head and clobbered him with the realisation he was in love- with his best mate.

At some point, the platonic appreciation and fondness for Seamus and his impulsiveness, his mischief, his good heart, his sheepish grin, bright blue eyes, and freckles had changed. For some time, without realising, Dean had slowly been developing a far more romantic interest in Seamus. It was the main thing which had made their fighting earlier in the year so painful, when Seamus' mother had turned him against Harry: just as great as the ache of distance in their friendship had been the ache of the fledgling feelings he'd been developing.

And then, Shay had come back to him, and that reunion had become his Patronus memory.

Dean was slumped against one of the least knobbly trees on the shore of the Black Lake, brooding. While normally he dealt with stress and other emotional turmoil through drawing, he hadn't felt like doing so in quite a while, and he thought he knew why.

He missed Seamus. He missed his best friend. The energy and subsequent inspiration he brought to Dean's life was gone. It was as though he'd lost not only a dear friend but an irreplaceable muse.

Dean stared at the empty page of his sketchbook for a moment, and then tipped his head back to thunk into the tree trunk behind him with a sigh.

Footsteps. The gait sounded familiar but the contentment the well-known tread usually summoned was absent, replaced by a flare of aching wistfulness sharp-edged as any blade.

The footsteps stopped.

"Hullo," Seamus mumbled, uncharacteristically hesitant. Dean tamped down on the instinctive urge to snap at him. For being a tosser to Harry. Being a tosser in general, lately. Mostly, for distancing himself from him.

"Hi," he opted for instead, unable to conceal the strain in his voice. "What brings you out here?"

"You."

"Me."

"...Yeah."

Silence, made all the worse by its rareness for them, settled as a solidifying barrier between the boys. Dean's eyes burned behind closed lids, pained that they'd come to this. He drew in an almost soundless breath that didn't seem to give him any more oxygen.

There was a series of rustling noises, and he registered that Seamus had just sat down beside him on the dry grass. "I'm really sorry, Dean," he said, awkward as always when it came to emotion, but nonetheless sincere; his regret was clear in his voice along with an edge of something unidentifiable but just as poignant. "I was out of line in being such a miserable git to Harry, but I was a right prat to you as well. I should've- I've been hurting you for ages and being such a horrible friend and fuck, Merlin, I'm so sorry. I've apologised to Harry as well, but," he took a harsh breath, "I hope we'll be okay. Dean, I've- I've missed you, so much. I'd get it if you're pissed, you have every right to be, mate, but-"

Dean cut off the rambling apology by opening his eyes and turning his head with a tired smile. He blinked away the last of the burning in his eyes as he locked eyes with his best friend. "Get over here, you wanker."

Seamus flushed, but the tiniest uncertain hint of a smile flickered over his face for the first time in ages as he shuffled over and Dean wrapped him in a hug.

"I forgive you," Dean mumbled, chin resting on Seamus' head as some unnameable thing that had been coiled uncomfortably tight within him released at long last. Arms went round him, cautious at first, and then tightening suddenly as Seamus slumped in relief and pressed his face into Dean's shoulder.

The angle was strange with both of them sitting down, but neither let go for a long moment, sharing a quiet, unspoken joy to be back to normal at last.

Dean came back to himself and breathed a soft sigh of relief to find that he hadn't been running his thumb over Seamus' hand again. Nerves prickled beneath his skin and seeped into his voice and movements. With what his Patronus was he knew it was a horrible idea for him to be out here teaching Shay like this. If- when- Seamus created his own, he'd realise. He'd realise that Dean's feelings for him went far beyond friendship, now, and that was terrifying.

But he couldn't, wouldn't, leave. He was compelled to stay, nearly pressed up against Seamus' back, hand holding his. He wanted this boy who meant so much to him to have this.

The gut-clenching fear of rejection should have kept him from risking exposure like this. But in the dappled shadows beneath the tree, with the lake brushing barely audibly against the shore and Seamus pressed to him, a bout of recklessness had gripped him.

With a twist of surprising dark humour, his brain whispered, At least, if this is your last memory with him still speaking to you, it's a good one. Dean looked at the hand in his and swallowed hard.

—

Seamus knew he must be flushed horribly, red up to his ears and down his neck, freckles standing out. A blush was no small thing on pale skin, he knew, and ironically knowing this made even more blood rush to his face.

He couldn't help it though. Not with Dean almost pressed up against his back and the feel of the graceful hand a shade bigger than his as it adjusted his wand motions. The other boy was speaking close to his ear, and the gentle happiness which usually accompanied his hearing the deep voice was replaced by a fluttering in Seamus' stomach and blood pounding loudly in his ears.

"It's like a twirl, the way you trace the shape," Dean told him, that deep voice so close, too close, to his ear, and how Seamus was still managing to stand on knees that now were about as solid as pudding was truly a mystery. He nearly choked on air when Dean's thumb brushed lightly over the back of his hand, and again as though to prove the touch was anything but accidental. Dear Merlin. What was going on? Was Dean actually aiming to kill him?

Seamus screwed his eyes shut for a moment and tried to gather the shreds of his composure. "Expecto Patronum," he managed to say but his focus was gone and the wisp that appeared this time seemed still less substantial than its predecessors.

Dean exhaled softly, breath tickling Seamus' ear. "It has to be a really happy memory, Shay. Something really important to you. Come on mate, I know you can do it."

Seamus groaned, long and expressive, and was rewarded by laughter behind him. Dean's laugh, he reflected, was really very nice.

Very nice...like his hands and his voice and his smile...

A familiar flare of impulse surged just under Seamus' skin like an electric charge. He stilled for a long moment, debating internally, before gently pulling his hand free of Dean's and turning, lifting his head to meet Dean's startled eyes.

"I'm not sure I do have a memory like that," he murmured, eyes tracing the planes of the familiar face. Part of him was already second-guessing the words, the implications. This could go so wrong. Merlin fuck please don't let me lose him. Please.

"No?" Dean asked, breaking into his sudden panic. His voice had gone a little high.

"No," Seamus agreed. He inhaled, slowly. "D'you fancy making one with me?"

Colour flooded Dean's face. "I..."

He inhaled too, a grounding breath, and searched his best friend's expression with cautious eyes. Seamus' gaze was steady in stark contrast to the wild beating of his heart.

Dean pressed a tentative hand, the one not clutching anxiously to his wand, to Seamus' pale, freckled cheek, and his answer was clear in the indescribably hopeful expression of dark eyes.

Seamus dropped his wand.

He grinned, big and bright and beautiful, right before he reached up to tug Dean down into a kiss that tasted of relief and joy. Dean's free hand hovered indecisively for the briefest of moments before he, too, dropped his wand and then settled that hand on Seamus' waist and drew him close, an unrealised ache of shared longing between them disintegrating as it was suffused in a rush of contented warmth.

When the boys finally pulled apart, they did so with reluctance, both breathing heavily. Seamus rose onto his toes, hands still cradling Dean's face, and pressed their foreheads together briefly. Then he stooped and retrieved his wand.

"Expecto Patronum."

The silvery form of a red fox shot from his wand and tumbled tail over head through the air. It shook itself and scampered over to nuzzle them both.

Seamus beamed so wide it almost hurt.

Dean's answering smile was brilliant as he pulled him in for another kiss.