A/N: Here's chapter two everyone! Please review! Thanks to the data's at checkmated!
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter.
Dean Thomas.
I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it. My best friend... he isn't – he wasn't – dead. How can it be? It simple can't. That's all there was to it. Only—
I knew that wasn't true. Seamus was dead. I knew it, I saw him. The feeling that swept over me at seeing my old friend's face on the floor of the Entrance Hall, was so enormous and extreme, I don't believe I'll ever be able to put it into words. It was like, I myself had died with him. It was like I was walking around, already dead myself, and my insides were frozen and icy.
It was the worst thing I'd ever felt.
I remember when I first met Seamus Finnigan. It was on Platform 9 ¾. How can I ever forget? It was at a time when I was frightened and scared of the magical world. It was a time when other, less generous kids shouted racist slurs to my face. I was black, they didn't need to tell me that. I was a muggle, another thing I already knew. All things I knew and was too afraid to argue.
That's when Seamus Finnigan came into my life. He changed my whole world, for better and for worse. He came up behind me on that platform, touched my shoulder, and screamed back at the kids taunting me. He was like some unreal superhero, coming to my pitiful rescue!
I sat with him on the train and our friendship shot off like a rocket. We never ran out of things to talk about, and whatever I said to Seamus was interesting, even though I knew most of it wasn't.
We went everywhere together. Some people teased that we were spell bound together. We shared a dorm, shared classes, ate together. We told each other everything. He was like my brother.
I remember staring down at his pale face, disbelieving. How could something like this happen to Seamus? How could something like this happen to my best friend?
It wasn't fair. It wasn't bloody fair, dammit. I could have died in his place instead. If I had more than one life to live on this holy earth, I would have given all of them, willingly to save Seamus. Because he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to die like this. He deserved to live a long, happy life.
It occurs to me, that fate seems to take the best people away from us. As if it weren't enough for it, fate's evil hand snatches away those who were good and pure in their lives. My friend Seamus was one of those people, and I don't know, to this day, how I will live without him.
But Seamus wouldn't want this. He wouldn't want to see me, so hopeless of life, so unforgiving of death, and this strong unwillingness to move on. I always considered myself a strong person in will and spirit. However, the moment I saw him lying there, and Harry Potter leaning down and kissing him like that, Harry pulled back and I cried.
Pure and simple. I cried.
I couldn't stop. Tears flowed like a river from me; a fast flowing river that runs deep. So deep and fast with emotions of a broken person. While living, perhaps my greatest friend never realized how deeply he effected people; how deeply he effected me.
Harry moved away to give others room to see him. No one said anything, and in the back of my mind, I was aware of even the Slytherins' remaining silent as we looked upon the student and friend we all once had.
My knees gave way. I fell to the floor. I remember how forcefully I hit the stone floor. My knees later became bruised from the roughness of my drop; just like my heart was busied from the death of my brother and friend.
My hand was shaking as I reached out to Seamus. I realized many people had stopped breathing as they watched me. I touched Seamus's face. It was cold and lifeless. It registered in my mind the face he wore in death. In life, he was a happy person most of the time, and here, after dying from evil, Seamus Finnigan was wearing a brave smile for all he loved. He lips were curved up in a smile and I realized that this is the way he would die.
I noticed only vaguely that my tears were falling on Seamus's face. Tear after tear, they fell on Seamus, until I was shaking and gasping for air. My sobs were so clearly echoing across the Entrance Hall. I felt sick.
In my heart, my friend is a heroic person. Harry sat down with me, on the night of his death, and told me what happened. I felt proud for Seamus. I felt proud for having a friend with such heart as he. I was lifted slightly.
Seamus will live on in my mind forever.
That night, as I laid down to sleep, I climbed weakly into Seamus's warm bed. I pulled his covers over me, and let my fingers clasp over his green shamrock. My eyes stared at the top of his four poster bed. Emptiness is what I felt inside.
I remembered all the times we'd shared. I remembered in our first year, when his feather exploded and I teased him about it. I remembered when we both went into the Forbidden Forest and got lost. I remembered when we snuck down to the kitchens to get snacks. I remembered when we discussed who we'd take to the Yule Ball. I remembered going to the Quiddich Cup together and camping that night. The good and the bad, we were together, through and through. I remembered all those things in my mind, but more importantly, I remembered him.
Seamus was a good friend to me. I would never forget him, all his advice, all his words, and all his kindness. I would most likely, never be closer to anyone else in my life; I'd never find a man I considered my friend and brother alike.
He was a wonderful person to me and everyone he knew. He was my partner, he was my brother.
He was Seamus Finnigan.
TBC