January 1992
Dean is a doodler, always has been. For as long as he can remember, he doodles while listening to teachers or doing his homework. It hasn't always been appreciated though. For starters, his art skills weren't too good as a six year old boy. As a result there would be lines all over the page, obscuring the exercises and angering teachers with his sloppy work. Secondly, teachers always assume that students who are drawing aren't paying attention. Thus, teachers would constantly call his name and tell him to put his pen down and pay attention. It wasn't until he was 8 that a psychologist told the school that doodling was his way of learning. Dean needs to be moving something in order to engage his brain. Art, and doodling by extension of that, is his passion though, and through the years his skills have gotten better and his doodles are little works of art made on auto-pilot.
Coming to Hogwarts had had Dean scared. He had been scared that he had to fight for his doodle-right all over again. He had been wrong. The note from his psychologist from years ago was still as valid. Professor McGonagall had taken the note and assured him that Hogwarts would do what it could to aid him in his learning. And so, Dean keeps doodling. Doodles are everywhere, his books, his notes, even the homework he handed in. Dean is unpacking his trunk from Christmas break when Ron walks into the first-years' dorm room.
"Dean, McGonagall asks that you come see her in her office," Ron tells him. "Don't know what you did, but good luck mate, hope she isn't too hard on you.
"Thanks," Dean mumbles as he dumps the shirt in the drawer next to his bed. He stuffs his wand in the back pocket of his jeans. Even after only three months in the wizarding world, it feels comforting to be back to carrying his wand around at all times. As he descends the many steps down from the Gryffindor tower to McGonagall's office, he wonders why McGonagall wanted to see him. He only just came back from Christmas break, it's not like he had done anything besides eat yet.
Before he's ready he is standing in front of the office door. He lifts his hand to knock, but hesitates. He takes a steadying breath, and another. After his third breath, he gathers all his Gryffindor courage and knocks on the door.
"Come in," McGonagall's voice comes from the other side of the door. Dean opens the door and enters the office of his Head of House.
"Ah, mister Thomas, thank you for coming so fast. Have a seat, please. Tea? Biscuit?"
Dean just stops thinking for a second. Did she really just ask him if he wanted tea or a biscuit? He's freaking out, thinking he's done something wrong, and she's talking about tea and biscuits?
"Uh, no thank you, professor," he stammers.
"You look nervous, mister Thomas, drink this, you'll feel better," she tells him as she puts a cup of tea on the desk in front of him. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. I wanted to talk to you about your doodles. I heard professor Snape gave you a detention and several point deductions, because you had doodles on your potions' homework."
Dean looks at his hands in his lap.
"I had a firm discussion with him and he will no longer give you deductions, but does require you to learn a spell to remove your doodles from your homework. I don't expect you to master this immediately, and I wouldn't recommend doing this on your homework until you are absolutely sure you have mastered it, and are able to remove only that which you want to remove from your homework. You don't want to accidentally remove your whole essay."
Dean's head snaps up. Snape won't punish him anymore? He's not particularly thrilled that Snape is basically telling him that his way of learning is wrong, but he'll take what he can get. And maybe he could use this spell on the pieces he normally crosses out, and no longer have to rewrite his essays if he had to delete entire paragraphs.
"Okay, I think I can do that," he tells her.
"Wonderful, please come see me tomorrow after dinner, and we'll start your lessons."
Dean looks up at professor McGonagall, and the stern woman that always scared him a little, seems to have melted away for a teacher who genuinely cares for him.
"Thank you professor. Can I… uh... can I go now?"
McGonagall makes a hand gesture and Dean hears the door open. He gets up and all but runs out of the office. It may have been a good and positive talk, but she's still scary.
April 1994
"You should rethink your conclusion as not all of it is presented in your arguments," Hermione's bossy voice sounds as she slaps his History of Magic essay in front of him. "And you forgot to remove two doodles. One next to paragraph 2 and one on the bottom."
Dean's heart skips a beat as she mentions the doodles and he quickly covers the Potion's essay he was working on with his book. He thought he had removed all of them from his essay before he had given it to her to look over.
"Thanks for looking it over for me, Hermione," Dean tells her, a smile plastered on his face that doesn't feel real and he wishes hides his anxiety.
"You know, even though you touched on the events in the Wizarding World leading up to the Goblin Rebellion and the strong reaction of the Wizarding World, you don't say enough to warrant your conclusion…"
"Thank you Hermione, but I also really need to finish my Potions' essay for tomorrow."
Hermione looks scandalised as Dean interrupts her. She stomps away and Dean lets out a shaky breath. He looks down towards the essay she gave back to him. He finds the doodles he had forgotten to remove. A large sigh escapes him as he finds a doodle of an angry goblin and of a lion eating a snake. Safe doodles, crisis averted, no one knows. He quickly spells them off before rolling up the essay. He's sure he'll get a passing grade for it, no need to bother with redoing the conclusion. It's not as if he wants to do anything with History of Magic in his future.
He lifts his potion's book of his essay and looks at the doodles on it. They are very much in line with a lot of his recent doodles. A young man with very short hair, often surrounded by flames or smoke. This time the doodle has a large bottle of firewhiskey. Dean feels the tips of his ears warm up. 'Seamus is just a very good friend,' he tells himself, 'you've had crushes before, remember Scot Canham, just another Canham.' He shakes his head as he spells the Seamus doodles of his homework. He really should start paying more attention to his doodle removals. He really couldn't risk any of emthose/em doodles make it through. Only a few months, then this crush will be over again and he would go back to doodling movie stars and footballers.
October 1995
"Mr Thomas," Professor McGonagall's voice rings out over the hubbub of students leaving the classroom after Transfiguration. "Could you please stay behind for a minute?"
Dean looks up from stuffing his notes and inkwell into his bag with big eyes. McGonagall's face is stern and promises nothing good. He turns towards Seamus next to him, who only shrugs before standing up and bolting out of the room.
"Good luck mate," Seamus yells back.
Dean fidgets with his quill as the last people filter out of the classroom. Lavender gives him a small squeeze in his shoulder as she passes.
"I found something rather peculiar in last week's homework," Professor McGonagall says as she puts his homework on the table in front of him. "I've marked it in red for you."
Dean unrolls the parchment, and about halfway down he finds a large red circle. The parchment slips out of his numb fingers. He had forgotten to spell one of his Seamus doodles off.
"I'm sure mister Finnigan would enjoy a portrait of himself from you when you make it on a proper canvas."
McGonagall smiles at him and motions that he can go. Dean bolts out of the classroom, and for once is glad of his dark complexion. It will hide the beet red head he is sure to have.
As it was the last lesson of the day, everyone has headed to their common rooms before dinner. He takes the stairs up to Gryffindor tower two at a time. If he is a little out of breath he can brush off any redness in his face as running. He gives the Fat Lady the password and works his way through the passageway. He really is starting to be too tall for this entryway. He spots Seamus on the sofa in front of the hearth and he plops down next to him.
"What did McGons want?" Seamus asks him.
"Oh, I forgot to sign my homework, must have accidentally spelled it off with a doodle," he lies.
"Idiot," Seamus laughs and gives him a shove.
Dean lets out a strained laugh and looks at Seamus. Merlin he loves that guy. What he thought was a crush one and a half year ago, had definitely grown into full blown love and pining. Seamus wouldn't shut up about Lavender, so obviously there was no hope, but every time Dean had resolved himself to giving up something would catch his eyes and he'd be lost again. Like right now, the fire reflecting in Seamus's eyes is the prettiest thing Dean has ever seen and he wishes he could freeze time to get his sketch pad out and draw Seamus with every tiny, gorgeous detail. Why did McGonagall have to put that idea in his head. Maybe he will do it, for his birthday, it is coming up after all and he still hasn't thought of a good present. He keeps staring at the fire reflected in Seamus' eyes. Maybe if he memorises it, he could draw it later in bed when the other boys are sleeping.
"I'm hungry," Seamus states and with that the moment was broken.
February 1996
"Happy birthday tooooo youuuuuu," all the boys in the dorm sing. It's rather remarkable how four boys can manage to sing Happy Birthday in four different keys, Dean thinks to himself. It's just after dinner and the boys have decided to forgo homework for the night in order to have a small party in their dorm room. Neville has provided the drinks, Harry and Ron have provided the snacks, and Dean has decorated the dorm room.
"Here's my present," Ron says as he throws a package across the room.
"Are these… old potions' essays," Seamus asks incredulously as he inspects the wrapping paper. Ron simply shrugs. Seamus attacks the paper with vigour and just rips up the paper. Out comes tumbling a large box of chocolate frogs.
"Here, this goes well with it." Neville hands Seamus his present, this time wrapped in actual wrapping paper. Once again, Seamus attacks the wrapping paper. This time he uncovers a gift assortment box of Honeydukes.
"Thanks guys, you do know you're not getting any right," Seamus jokes. A roaring laughter goes through the dorm room. A pillow sails towards Seamus' head from the direction of either Ron's or Harry's bed. Seamus ducks out of the way.
"Oh, another pillow, wonderful present, thank you."
"Shove off Seamus, give it back or I'll keep your actual present," Harry threatens, clutching the present protectively.
"No, no, give me my actual present, please," Seamus pleads, quickly throwing the pillow back. Harry catches the pillow with his seeker reflexes, dumps it behind him on the bed and walks over with the actual present. The present isn't wrapped, but is actually a small wooden chest. The outside is entirely non-descript and free of branding. Seamus tries to open the lock and fails.
"It's locked for good reason," Harry sniggers.
Seamus falls back to reach for his wand on the bedside table and sits back up to unlock the chest. With excitement he opens the chest. Dean can almost hear the small choir singing 'aaaaah' as it opens. Seamus' eyes light up as he sees the contents of the chest.
"Oh, Filch is going to be so annoyed. This is great, thanks Harry," Seamus beams as he inspects the assortment of Zonko products. He lifts a dungbomb and feels the comfortable weight in his hand.
Dean sits quietly, watching the boy he loves with nerves. He still has half a mind to hand him the back-up present of muggle alcohol. It's too personal, he's sure Seamus won't appreciate Plan A. No, Plan B it will be.
"Dean?" Seamus calling his name, shakes him out of his anxious musings.
"Yes, right, let me get your present." Dean feels around under his bed for the alcohol. His hand hits something wooden wrapped in paper and he grabs it.
"There it is," he says with a theatrical flourish, giving the present. Only when Seamus has taken it from his hands does Dean realise that the present in his hands is Plan A. His heart starts beating wildly. No turning back now, he can't possibly ask Seamus to give it back. Dean feels his neck heat up.
To Dean, it seems to take hours for Seamus to unwrap the package, when in fact is was only a few seconds. Seamus's breath stops for a second as he takes in the unwrapped present. Then he jumps off the bed, lunges for Dean, grabs his face and gives him a long, hard kiss. Dean vaguely registers the other boys' excited whooping, before completely losing himself in the reality that is Seamus' lips on his.
On Seamus' bed lies forgotten a framed pencil drawing of Seamus staring into the distance.