I always imagine Seamus' accent as thicker than normal, so, here it is.

Gift-fic written for Raggazzed12. Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, December Festivities.

Prompts:

(object) grandfather clock

(colour) turquoise

(pairing) Dean/Seamus

Covered with an old Gryffindor blanket, Dean sat in front of the fireplace, warming his hands and feet, a mug of steaming hot chocolate by his side on the couch. He gazed at the blazing flames and smiled, wondering what Seamus was up to. He had locked himself in the bathroom, and as Dean glanced at the old grandfather clock that stood near the bookshelf, he realized it had been three hours since he had seen his boyfriend — or even heard his voice.

Growing worried, he stood up and went to knock on the bathroom door. "Shay? Is anything wrong?"

"Gran'," Seamus yelled out, but Dean thought he sounded a bit tense.

"Uh, you need help in there with something?" he called out, worrying his lower lip, leaning against the doorway. 'Maybe he's constipated,' Dean thought with mild amusement, trying not to laugh at the prospect.

"Nah, I'm gran'! I'll be out soon!" Then, there was silence once again, and Dean shrugged as he walked back to the couch, picking up the blanket and throwing it over his legs again. He sipped on his hot cocoa, sighing in contentment, and looked towards the window, marvelling at the sight of the slowly falling snowflakes.

It was almost Christmas Eve, and the small velvet box nestled in the pocket of his sweatpants continued to nag at him, reminding him of what he was about to do as soon as the clock struck twelve. He absentmindedly patted the lump and grinned; he had no qualms about marrying Seamus, the man he'd been with ever since that horrible Professor Umbridge had declared that boys and girls would stay at least six inches away from each other. He snickered as he reminisced about how Seamus had laughed heartily after hearing the decree and plopped right into his lap.

Just then, his daydreaming was interrupted by the very man of his dreams, and Dean turned his head to look at Seamus and his jaw dropped. Seamus stood outside the bathroom door with a slight scowl on his face, but the thing that had shocked Dean so much was that his hair and certain areas of his forehead were both bright turquoise.

"Merlin, what happened to you?" Dean blurted out and slapped his hands over his mouth to muffle his laughter.

"I tried ter dye me 'air," Seamus muttered, reaching up to tug on his strands. "I'm not sure 'ow it got onto me 'ead, though. Do I look as ridiculous as I think I do?"

As Dean gazed at him, his heart overflowed with affection for Seamus. The shorter man stood there trying to scowl at his hair, and Dean knew he couldn't wait any longer. He didn't even hesitate to answer. "You look adorable."

"Look, I'm not adorable, gran' so? I'm a pure manly—" He was interrupted by Dean, who shot to his feet and hurried over to him. "Dean, what ye—"

Dean didn't let him finish his sentence. He leaned down and cupped Seamus' face in his hands, the love he felt evident in his eyes. He insistently pressed his lips against Seamus' and silenced him, pouring all his emotions into that one kiss. Seamus sighed against his mouth and reached up onto his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Dean's neck, climbing onto the taller man's feet to gain more leverage.

When the grandfather clock twanged and alerted Dean, he let his forehead rest against Seamus' and closed his eyes, savouring the peaceful moment. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and smiled lazily. "You look ridiculously wonderful with your blue hair and your blue forehead — and I think there's some dye on your ear, too."

"What? I thought I got it al' aff!" Seamus cried, trying to extract himself from Dean's arms so that he could check on his hair. "Merlin, why is dis Muggle thing so 'ard? 'ow do they even do this? It's bleedin' torture, so 'tiz! I should've jist used magic!"

"Why didn't you?"

"Yer know I suck at de Colour-Change Charm," he muttered, his cheeks pink with embarrassment, and Dean laughed as he leaned down to kiss his nose. "De wand movements are so similar ter de Growth Charms dat I'm sure me 'air would've become as big as 'agrid!"

Dean smiled and brushed Seamus' turquoise hair off his forehead. "I think you look wonderful, Shay. Here, hold still. I'll get the dye off your forehead." He used the Scouring Charm to clean the stains and nodded. "You're almost perfect now."

"What do yer mean by almost perfect? 'ow dare you—"

"The only thing that's wrong about you is your last name," Dean said, sliding his hand into his pocket.

"What's wrong wi' me last name?" Seamus demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You should change it."

"Ter what?"

"Thomas." Dean's breath caught in his throat after his indirect implication.

"Seamus Thomas? You're not the full shillin', ain't yer, Dean? Dat sounds terrible! Ah, I know! Yer could change yers! Dean Finnigan? 'ow does dat soun'?" Seamus grinned cheekily, not having understood what his boyfriend had asked him.

"How about Finnigan-Thomas?" Dean inquired softly, and Seamus pondered over it for a few moments.

"Dat sounds nice… Wait, why am I changin' me last name? Yer could change yers instead." Seamus frowned, bewildered at what was going on.

Dean took a deep breath in and got down on one knee in front of him, holding out the small box in front of him. He awkwardly said, "Because I want to marry you?"

Seamus stared at the ring inside the box with absolute confusion, but then, a Lumos went off in his head. He gasped and clapped his hands over his mouth. He blinked rapidly and choked out, "You're askin me ter marry yer?"

"Yes, wasn't it obvious?"

"Naw, yer idjit! It wasn't obvious! Yer can't jist tell me dat yer want me ter change me last name an' den dat yer want ter marry me! But yes, I'll marry yer, yer dolt!" Seamus laughed and allowed the tears to spill down his face as Dean slid the ring onto his finger. "Dean Thomas-Finnigan sounds so much better, though."

Dean's laughter bubbled up through his throat, and Seamus beamed as he knocked him over and kissed him joyfully. And as the grandfather clock struck twelve, a new chapter began in the lives of the two Gryffindor boys who had stuck with each other through thick and thin and emerged victorious in the end.

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