Dean leaned on the stone railing of the bridge, snowflakes swirling around him, catching and melting slowly on the wool of his winter coat. In the distance, the great doors of Hogwarts Castle opened, and bundled-up students began to stream out, hastening down the snowy path toward Hogsmeade, where the Hogwarts Express waited to take them home for the winter holidays.

Dean waited.

When a group of six figures approached the bridge, walking together, Dean straightened, heart in his throat. One of them halted, staring at the stone arch of the bridge as he noticed that the incised letters carved there were now highlighted in Gryffindor red and gold. Slowly, his eyes lifted until he found Dean standing on the bridge above.

One of the others walking with Seamus put a hand on his shoulder and said something to him, but they were too far away for Dean to hear. Seamus replied, shaking his head. His companions bid him farewell, and walked on, up the path and over the bridge, while Seamus hung back.

Ron and Hermione, holding hands, exchanged a quick look, then gave Dean a nod in greeting, but Neville paused and patted Dean awkwardly on the arm.

"Good luck, mate."

"Yeah," said Ginny. "Try not to fuck it up. Again."

"Ginny!" cried her brother, appalled.

She stuck out her tongue at him. "What? You're allowed to say 'fuck', but I'm not? I'm not twelve, Ron."

The others moved on, but Luna lingered.

"It will be all right," she told him confidently. "He loves you."

Dean looked at her in surprise. "Did he tell you that?"

"No, but it's not hard to tell. He gets very quiet whenever someone mentions you, and then goes away for a while."

Dean did not think that sounded like a positive sign, but he gave Luna a grim smile. "Thanks. I hope you're right."

When the others had all gone, Seamus trudged reluctantly onto the bridge they had built together. He leaned on the railing next to Dean, staring over the castle grounds toward the Forbidden Forest, as the last few stragglers hurried past.

"Arsehole," he said after a moment. "Wanker. Cad."

"You're still angry, then?"

"Yeah, I am. You broke my fucking heart."

Dean's shoulders sagged. "I know. I'm sorry. I fucked up."

Seamus gave a humourless laugh. "You really did." He paused, then said, "Neville told me you came out to your family."

"Yeah."

"How'd they take it?"

"Pretty well, all things considered."

Seamus nodded. "Well done. That took guts."

"Thanks," said Dean, then added, "I told them about ... us. But that it was probably over."

Seamus bit his lip, his eyes still fixed on the trees in the distance.

"You painted our initials," he said abruptly.

"Yeah. I wanted people to be able to see them. Even if we're through."

Seamus was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice trembled. "You really fucked me up, you know, Dean. I don't think I've ever felt worse, except when I thought you were -" he broke off, sniffing.

Dean gazed with longing at Seamus's snub-nosed profile. His pale eyelashes were wet.

"I'm sorry, Shay," he said again, quietly.

Seamus sighed. "I tried to get over you. I tried not to think about you at all. But I just - I missed you."

He looked up at last, face as full of misery as the day they had sat together on the unfinished bridge the summer before, and Dean had kissed him for the first time.

The breath caught in Dean's throat. "Does that mean you might want to try being friends again?"

Seamus gave him an incredulous look. "Fuck you!"

Dean blinked. "Oh. I didn't figure you'd still want to ... be the other thing. Not after how badly I bollocksed it up."

Seamus chewed on his lip. "I think - it has to be both or neither now."

"So ... do you want it to be both?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"Do you?"

Dean nodded.

"All right, then."

Fumbling for Dean's hand, Seamus laced their gloved fingers together, squeezing hard. He looked up at Dean fiercely.

"Just promise me that this time, you won't try to decide what's best for me, or make any decisions about us without talking to me first."

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. "I promise, Shay." Taking a deep breath, he summoned up all his courage. "I love you."

A droplet of moisture escaped Seamus's lashes, spilling down over his cheek. He lunged forward, pressing his face into the shoulder of Dean's coat. Dean wrapped his arms around him, gulping air to ease the sudden tightness in his chest.

"I love you, too." Seamus's voice was shaky, and muffled by layers of wool.

Dean closed his eyes, feeling as if the summer sun had just come out to shine on them. They stood like that for a long time.

"I think you've missed the train," Dean said at last.

Seamus laughed, sniffling. His face was very red. "That's all right. We can floo down and collect my things in London. Then you can take me home."

Dean hesitated. "Yours or mine?"

"Either. But your family will probably be less inclined toward murder than my Mam. She's very protective, you know."

Dean laughed. "Will you protect me until I can make a proper apology?"

"I'll see what I can do."

Unable to help himself, Dean bent and kissed Seamus's smiling mouth. Seamus's body melted against his as he returned the kiss eagerly.

"That's a good start," Seamus sighed a moment later, "but you've got a lot of heartache to make up for."

"I'm willing if you are," said Dean recklessly, feeling giddy.

Seamus gazed up at him thoughtfully. "It'll be a few hours before the train gets to London. We could stop in at the Three Broomsticks, if you want to start making it up to me now."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. "You mean ...?"

"Yeah. If you want to."

Dean kissed Seamus again, longer and deeper this time, the blood singing in his veins.

"C'mon. Let's go see if Rosmerta has a room free."