Atlantis

Notes: Heh...sorry about that wait. Hope this is worth it.

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Chapter Six

How Much I Really Do Miss You

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Seamus wasstretched out on his, Dean's, bed. He was on his stomach and his t-shirt rode up to expose the pale expanse of his back and Dean's fingers itched to reach out and touch the skin, just to feel it under his fingertips again. Instead he drew, let the charcoal in his hand stain his fingers and his palm and the paper until an image on Ron Weasley emerged, head covered by his bandaged arms and one good eye staring out emptily.

Part of Dean ached to give the picture life but knew he couldn't. Everything he drew lacked feeling now. He used to draw because he loved it, because he wanted to share the way he saw things with the rest of the world and it had been something he could have easily imagined spending his whole life doing. He had once, secretly, entertained a fantasy of living in some crappy leaky apartment with no heat, with his drawing, Seamus, and Seamus' writing.

Sex and art and sex and

It had been stupid and childish and indulgent and to him it had seemed perfect. Now it seemed like heaven, the ideal life.

Seamus didn't write anymore of course. Dean kind of doubted he even remembered how good he'd been at it, how easily he'd made the words that Dean just couldn't make work for him flow and paint an image until Dean could almost touch it. Seamus could sit still to write, always.

What Dean would have given for just one more night in the common room, to sit in one of the chairs and draw the blond sprawled in front of the fireplace with a pen and notebook in front of him, Muggle things that Seamus couldn't have lived without. Ink, quill, and parchment just didn't match up.

Dean drew now because he had to. Things started to build in his brain, build up and threaten to topple over and the only way to get them out before they just crashed onto him and suffocated the very life from him was to get them out, to draw and draw until his hands were black and his fingers ached and seemed as if they might be permanently bent to hold onto whatever he was using that day. It was the only way he knew to make the things leave him, the thoughts and the screams and the constant need to just…move and be.

It had to escape and this was the only way he knew for it to do that. It was a necessity to him, something he hated because it was always…ugly. Tainted. Dead and rotting, no life or light or sense of reality to the things that came pouring out of him. It was all so horribly twisted to him and he knew it had to seem that much worse to people who saw it, to know that those images constantly plagued him.

"I miss my family Dean."

Dean jerked and a long black mark now marred Ron's left cheek. He stared numbly at the now ruined picture then looked over at Seamus who was watching him from the corner of his eye, all he could manage with the rest buried in the pillow the way it was.

"You miss them?"

"I think so." There was such an air of childish confusion to his tone that Dean was inclined to tell him that he didn't and then see if Seamus would believe it. "I…it's been a long time hasn't it? Longer than just being here I mean."

"Yeah. A long time." Maybe he could work the mark in, make it a shadow of some kind. Dean liked the shadows a lot, though he didn't draw them for fear of not getting them right but maybe now was a time to start.

"They haven't even owled. Are they mad at me? Don't they want me back?"

He set the work aside, deciding to worry about it later and crawled down to sit next to Seamus, who shifted so he was on his side and staring at Dean, so much trust in his eyes.

"Of course they do. There are just…things." He shrugged. What could he say, really? Your parents hated the idea of you being with another man so much they turned their backs on you when you needed them most? That they only care now because you can't remember? That the only thing between them and taking you away in Dumbledore?

"I don't understand."

"I know Shay." He wanted to brush back the hair that slide down to cover one sea colored eye but couldn't make his hand rise to do it. "You…do you really? Want to go back home?"

"I…could you come?"

"No." That was definite. He couldn't let Seamus hold any illusions to the contrary because there was simply no chance. Where Seamus' family had once accepted him as one of their own they viewed him as some kind of…infection now. "I…no. I have to stay here, you know that."

Seamus' brow furrowed and for a moment Dean thought that he really didn't remember. He'd told him on more than one occasion that the Ministry wouldn't let him leave until he had graduated Hogwarts, the terms of his release. Dumbledore had fought for him and instead of rotting in Azkaban he was here, rotting with the crazies and pretending to get well.

"You killed them." Seamus' eyes cleared for a moment. "For me."

Dean reached out and let his fingers drift over Seamus' skin.

"I almost…almost remember sometimes." Seamus moved closer, head resting in Dean's lap while arms wrapped around his legs. "I miss you."

"Yeah." Dean's throat threatened to close around the words. God how he hated words. He wanted to show Seamus that he knew, that he missed him as well, but could do nothing. Even in these moments, when Seamus was Seamus he couldn't…

It was taking advantage in a way and in another it was like suicide, granting himself a few moments only to know that when it was over it would be forgotten, shuffled back under the strange rug that Seamus had woven in his mind. Every time they touched Seamus would kill it later.

"If you want…I'd let you. I would."

"I know."

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Dean Thomas

Journal Entry Eight

Year Seven

Number 201064

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There are these moments, when everything is quite and still and I can almost feel the earth move underneath my fit, spinning throughout the galaxy with no in sight and just…spinning. Around and around and around some more, while I stay in the same exactly spot.

I like that kind of stillness. I appreciate it at times.

Other times it's like…standing on the edge of something, something deep, and it's all I can do to not just…fall over it. This is one of those times, when my mind and my body are so frantic and out of sync that I know I'm moments away from crashing completely.

I haven't slept in almost five days. I guess I'm in the middle of one of those manic episodes. I can't sleep, I can't rest, I can't do anything except move and shake and draw and touch and I hate myself so much at these moments because…

Because I need him at these moments. I can feel myself starting to fly apart at the edges into a million vaguely shaped pieces that might fit together and might not and…it's all so strange and different. I need him so desperately to hold me together, like he used to do. Wrap his arms around me and whisper soft things in my ear and just…hold me.

I wasn't so bad before all of this. I kept it under control, kept my maniac episodes to myself and let the depressive moments become who I was in the eyes of those around me. I was deadpan, calm and steady and silent. That was just who Dean was, it wasn't something to be at all concerned about. No one really knew that those times I was screaming inside, clawing at my insides and trying to carve my way outside of my own skin.

No one but Seamus. Maybe because he was my best friend, maybe because he was my lover, I suppose though that sounds like a really odd term in my head and doesn't even begin to encompass all that he was to me and shit sometimes words are so inadequate and weak, maybe because he just…knew.

And he held me, let me rage when I needed to, cry when I need to and show all of these swirling emotions that no one else could ever see in me and I knew I loved him no matter what anyone else said about us being together.

I depended on him so much and when they took him I slipped, let all of the built up shit come pouring out in one big rush and I lost control. Now I'm trying to pull my control back but it's so hard sometimes and there are moments when I think it would be so much easier to give in and just be…whatever it is that I am so that I could just stop fighting it.

It makes me so tired sometimes, tired but unable to sleep.

This…bugger.

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Dean growled, furious with himself for daring to reveal so much and ripped the page out before throwing it onto the floor. He couldn't let Bare see that; it was bad enough that everyone knew about it now. Knew how close to the edge he'd always been.

Seamus' parents wanted to take him away, now more than ever. They didn't care about healing or having disowned him the year before; now that he was a blank slate, save a few rare moments, they felt they could just hit some kind of re-do switch and make him over so he didn't fall for eerily quiet Black guys who even made their parents uncomfortable.

They thought they'd been offered a miracle and now that they knew Dean was unstable, had always been unstable, they could go back to believing he'd done something to their son, changed him and perverted him somehow with his 'illness'. It wasn't Seamus' choice, because who would chose to deal with someone crazy? No one.

It amused him that they knew so little about their son.

Dean had wanted to laugh when he read his sister's letter, paraphrasing what she'd heard the Finnigans telling their parents one night. The Thomas' agreed and thought that the moment they could manage it Seamus should go away and Dean should come home and maybe everything would be all better, like sticking a band-aid on a missing limb or something. He had only been able to sigh and ball it up.

He never wrote back. He doubted she expected it. All there was now was waiting. Dean would let him go if Seamus wanted it, really. If he ever looked at him and truly wanted it Dean would let him leave, smile and hug him, and then gladly fling himself off of the tallest available structure and pray he couldn't fly.

Seamus had fallen asleep some time ago, before Ron had come back to the dorm room. Surprisingly he had Draco in tow. Not that Dean minded the blond's company; quite the opposite really. Draco was very…calming. Not so much for Dean as for Seamus.

When Seamus had his…episodes there were times when Dean had no hope of getting through to him, mainly because seeing Seamus like that could completely shatter Dean. Sometimes he just didn't give a damn, and those times were the worse.

Somehow, Draco's silent watching could snap Seamus out of it. Dean suspected there was something to non-judgmental silence that could sooth anyone even more than comforting words or touches could begin to.

Even him, when the situation called for it, and he could tell he was getting to that point. He was jittery, edgy and unable to rest or think for long periods of time or even…exist, really. He didn't exist like this, he was just this hyped-up thing in an ill-fitting skin suit and it was just so…

He hated the night most of all, when he had nothing to distract his fingers and eyes and mind and so he only had this time and ability to dwell only he couldn't do that because his mind was everywhere but where he was and it hadn't used to be this bad.

"Where's Dean?" Ron asked, voice soft as if in reverence of the nighttime. Dean didn't know how Draco had managed to get out of his room when it was nearly curfew but suspected it had something to do with Bear being a total incompetent.

Draco broke away from Ron and came shuffling towards him. He was where he always in times like this, in the blackest corner of the room, where the shadows rose up like psychical things and held him tightly and he could almost think. He wouldn't be sleeping or resting anytime soon and from here he could see everything without really being seen.

Draco knelt next to him, head tilted to the side while blue-gray eyes asked a silent question. Dean stared back for a moment then looked away from him, past the sleeping Travis and to Seamus. The blond was curled around Dean's pillow, sleeping peacefully. He looked so at ease. He looked back at Draco and he was still staring, waiting, with those strangely calm eyes and Dean hated him so much. Wanted to hurt him, reaching out and pull him apart until he could feel blood coat his fingers.

He just sighed and buried his head in his arms, willing it all away from him, just for a little while at least. Just so he could breathe for a few moments, without making that unnerving gasping noise or having his fingers scrape across the floor, groping for god only knew what, because damn if Dean had anything close to an idea anymore.

He just…wanted peace. He wanted Seamus and peace and a good nights sleep and maybe some hot chocolate with marshmallows.

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Bwahahha…yeah, I keep you waiting all summer for that. I just had this urge to pull Dean apart and, while I have other stuff written, none of it really had the right tone to be a part of this chapter.

Mechante: …yeah, I was a bit update happy wasn't I? I'm having that strange flow again…I've come to the conclusion I write better when school is in session and, at the moment, have like ten documents open, begging for me to write and update. I'm inclined to agree with Ron as well, he seems pretty sane. I think it's everyone else that has a few issues…

Taa: Well, first, Dean's number. There are no such thing as coincidences. At least not in anything I write… After all, Valjean was imprisoned for something that was undoubtedly wrong but he had the best of intentions behind it. Dean was wrong, but he did if for the 'right' reasons as it were. Actually there is a plot, I'm proud to say, but like most things in my writing you won't know its there until you trip over it. I've never read either book, being more of a fantasy/sci-fi junkie myself, but I've heard of them… And I understand your general dislike of Draco. I actually don't like Harry (in the least…whiney little bastard he is.) but I tolerate him fairly well in fan fiction, I think. When I'm not killing him off I mean.

Candy: Actually I was musing on the fact that Hogwarts must still be moving as usual in spite of the insanity going on below…weird thought, isn't it?

Taryn: But if there were more like this mine wouldn't be original and that would suck, ne?

Faith: Ah…yes, I like to keep you strung between many stories, unsure of what you want, so when I update you're ever really disappointed.

Lilith: Man…there is something about your reviews that makes me go back and consider my own writing a little more, and pick out points that I myself may have missed.