A/N: Please note: this story is both a yaoi and a yuri fic. This means gay-couple pairings. If you are uncomfortable with that, PLEASE LEAVE NOW! There is a handy little thing called the back button... yeah. And for those of you who are left, please continue reading.
This fic starts out Dean/Seamus, but that is only for the prologue, or at least, I think it will be that way. Starting with next chapter the pairing will be Hermoine/Ginny. And the story will continue this way, unless I get a bunch of reviewers asking for it otherwise. The first chapter is already written and will be uploaded shortly, but from there, I really don't know where this story is going to go. All I know is that it is dedicated to Yimi, my best friend, soul-sister, and soul-mate, and my cousin Caitlin, who is the one who introduced me into the world of reading and writing fanfiction. You two are the reason I, and in turn, this story, are here. Thank you.
The fic is rated T for now, but the rating may go up, it depends, we'll see. All reviews and points of view appreciated. (Other than those who criticize and flame Gay pairings. I already told you, if you don't like it then leave already! Why are you even here!) And now, on with the fic...
P.S.)) No, the Author's notes will not always be this long. It is only to start this fic off, and if anybody is annoyed with me because of this, then my sincerest appologies. Read on...
Prologue:
The Beginnings:
There was screaming in the hallways of Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. Screaming and crying and uncontrollable sobbing. There was a crowd gathered outside the door to the Gryffindor common room and they were all standing over a dead body. Bloody and cold, as it had been since midnight. It had been seven hours since that fateful hour struck, but now the whole school was awake and standing around in the hallway, shaking uncontrollably with sobs or simply standing and staring, mortified that something like this could have happened. Only a few remained uncaring and indifferent.
The body lying stone cold on the cold stone floor was that of a boy. A Gryffindor 6th year by the name of Seamus Finnigan. Depression had been the reason for this death, and the means, a gleaming and bloody knifeknown assuicide. At least the pain was gone now…. For Seamus anyway.
Following shortly the discovery of Seamus' death came the funeral. It was cold and rainy and miserably wet on this day. But that was alright, for the weather mimicked the moods of the friends and family that gathered around the freshly dug grave, and the depression that Seamus' had faced and then lost the battle, and his life too. The mood in the air was one of misery and sadness. Tears were shed and lost to rain-soaked faces and already glistening wet cheeks. Guilt was also a big factor, and throughout the crowd thoughts were echoed again and again through everyone's minds. 'How could this have happened?' 'Why was Seamus so desperate?' and 'If I had taken the time to notice, could I have prevented this tragedy?' But despite all those who felt guilty, there was one amongst the crowd that day that was by far guiltier than all the rest.
Dean stood in the shadows, trying his hardest to be ignored and blend into the dreary background. His eyes held shimmering tears that he refused to let fall. His hair was dripping and rainwater was running down his nose and off and landing in the grass below. But no one noticed, and no one cared. But maybe it was better if no one knew, Dean thought. And as the coffin was settled into the freshly dug grave and the dirt was shoveled into the hole, Dean let the tears fall. It was his entire fault that Seamus was dead. All his fault, and really, truly no one else's. If only he had been more understanding, less hurtful, more willing to listen and accept it when Seamus had told him he loved him. If only he had been ready for all that and not pushed Seamus away as harshly as he had. He hadn't meant to be so cold, he had just been scared really; and he still was.
Dean hadn't known how to handle Seamus' confession. Hell, he hadn't even known how to handle his own emotions and feelings, how was he to be expected to handle someone else's? It was all unfair, so unfair; and now because of him, Seamus lay in a fresh grave with a gloomingly bright tombstone. Dead. Cold and dead. Sad and depressed and desperate for a way to handle his pain, Seamus had gone to cutting. But he had gone too far. Realizing this he had tried to stumble to the infirmary before it was too late.He had only made it as far as the hallway though, before collapsing, and then hello darkness, my old friend. And he had left Dean alone in the world, guilty, and now full of pain as well. It was too late now. There was no going back. Seamus was gone. He would never know what Dean had discovered. Seamus' love was never a one-sided thing, and it never had been. It had just taken Dean awhile to realize this fact. Sadly, a little too long.
If only you could travel back in time, change the past; fix mistakes and pointless, harmful errors. If only…. But there was no only now, and the pain that accompanied this time. So what was Dean to do? He could try cutting to handle his burden of pain, as Seamus had, he could get drunk, use alcohol to drive away the pain, as he had seen his dad do on more than one occassion; or he could live. Dean chose living. For as well as he had known Seamus, or thought he had, he knew that Seamus would have wanted it, for Dean's life to continue.
"Go on living," a voice in the wind seemed to whisper. "For I will always be with you, even if it is only in your memories, and in your heart."
