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Dean hates graveyards now. Once, when he was younger, they didn't bother him, except for being a little bit too scary for a kid. Now, a month after the end of the war, it feels like he has attended more than enough funerals to last a lifetime. Each one felt so awkward because what can he say to the grieving loved ones left behind? Everything sounds so generic.
But they aren't here for a funeral. Not this time. It's something Dean has wanted to do, but the pain has kept him away from it. Having Seamus by his side makes it easier, but Dean can still feel the ache in his chest, even as his boyfriend holds his hand and brushes his thumb over Dean's knuckles.
Ted Tonks' gravestone is a simple thing, a marble heart that announces that he was so loved. Seeing it hurts almost as much as witnessing Ted's murder.
"There's not even a body here," Dean whispers.
He doesn't know what the Snatchers did to Ted. All he remembers is seeing the green light strike the older man's chest as Dean desperately tried to get himself and Griphook to safety. Prior to his narrow escape, Dean had begged Ted to let him fight too, but Ted insisted that Dean and the goblin would be safer if Ted bought them some time.
He had been right, but Dean feels like such a coward for not staying. He should have tried harder; he should have found the right words to say to change Ted's mind.
But what good would it have done? Deep down, Dean knows it would have ended with two dead wizards and one dead goblin.
"He meant a lot to you," Seamus says, lifting Dean's hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles, just a barely-there brush of his lips against the skin.
Dean nods. "He was like a father to me."
"You made it back to me because of him," Seamus whispers.
Swallowing dryly, Dean nods again. He feels the tears springing up in his eyes. Sometimes he wonders how there are still tears left to cry. Surely he should have exhausted them by now. And yet, there they are, always trailing down his cheeks without warning.
"I promised him when the war was over, I'd introduce you two," Dean tells him. "He… he said you sounded cheeky, a bit like his daughter."
Seamus laughs, wrapping an arm around Dean and holding him close. "I take it that means he approved of me then, hmm?"
Dean snorts. Seamus always makes it so easy to smile. Even when the world is falling apart around him, Seamus reminds him that there are good things left I the world. When he was on the run, it was Seamus' memory that helped him to keep fighting.
"That sort of love seems to be so rare these days," Ted had told him as the two of them kept watch while Griphook and Dirk slept. "You hold onto that. Don't let go, got it?"
"Trust me, I don't intend to let go," Dean had assured him. "I think you'd like him."
"I'm sure I will."
"I'll introduce you after this is all over. If it's ever over."
This isn't how Dean had imagined this would go. In his head, he had assumed he and Seamus would meet up with Ted for a round of butterbeer. They'd share a few laughs and swap stories of what happened during those chaotic months.
Instead, Dean kneels at the foot of the grave. Ted isn't there, but it doesn't matter. It's the thought that counts, the symbolism of the whole thing.
"This isn't what I meant when I said I'd introduce you," Dean whispers. "But it's over. We won. I met your wife and grandson, and… well… This is Seamus."
He feels silly, but Seamus doesn't judge him for it. That's one reason he's so crazy about the other boy. Seamus has always been so good and kind, if a little impulsive and wild.
"I promise I'm not letting go of him."
Dean grabs Seamus hand again, pulling himself up with a heavy sigh. "I wish you could have actually met him," he says.
Seamus kisses his cheek. "I'm sure I would have loved him. You okay?"
Dean shakes his head. "Not really. But I think I will be eventually."
It isn't perfect, and there's still grief deep within him that he doesn't think will ever fade. Still, as he and Seamus make their way through the graveyard, Dean knows he has a reason to hold on.
