Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Beater 1
Prompt: Write about falling out of love.
Optional Prompts: [character] Dean Thomas; [action] hiding; [dialogue] "What's the deal with you always wanting to ruin your own life?"
Word Count: 2,563

Warnings: swearing/mild offensive language, mild referenced sexism

Other notes: Muggle!AU, Modern!AU

I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love

Dean spun slowly, holding Ginny close in his arms. His new wife. He was unspeakably lucky and he was well aware of that. After three years together, he knew exactly how amazing she was. There had never been a doubt in his mind that he wanted to marry her. And as they turned on the dance floor, the eyes of all their loved ones fixed on them, Dean felt somewhat overwhelmed. This was everything he had ever hoped for in his life. In his partner.

Ginny shifted, her nose brushing across the soft skin of his neck as she nuzzled closely, and Dean felt his heartstrings tug - God, he loved her so much.

He wanted it to be like this forever, for the rest of their lives. The two of them, together, madly in love. He could picture them dancing around their apartment, being silly together, being happy. He couldn't imagine having that with anyone else, mostly because Ginny was unlike anyone else. She was bold and tenacious, and unapologetically her. She was the life and soul of every room she entered, and he was drawn to her every single time without fail. It had always been like that – from the moment he'd seen her dancing in a club, he had felt a magnetic pull toward her.

That magnetism had grown so quickly into the overwhelming love he felt for her now, the kind of love that made him want to hold her and never let go, made him want to gift wrap her hopes and dreams and hand them to her with a bow on top. It made him willing to do just about anything to make her feel loved.

I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love

The door slammed as Ginny returned home, dragging her suitcase behind her. Dean frowned, unfolding himself from the sofa and walking toward the kitchen, where he could already hear her rummaging in the fridge for something to drink. He tried not to be annoyed by the suitcase still sitting in the foyer. She did that often, just left stuff lying around.

"Hi, Gin. Everything okay?" Dean asked, dropping a kiss against her temple.

"Ugh, no," she said, cracking the cap off a beer with a soft hiss, and Dean tried not to be irritated that she hadn't even said hello to him. "McGonagall basically told me today that I wouldn't get the call-up for the World Cup next year, which is crazy, since it's a whole year away! How could they possibly know that already? Unless she's just decided already that I'm not good enough, but then why have me come to the training camp and play in qualifiers?"

"I dunno, that does seem odd," Dean supplied. "And there's no way you're not good enough, you've been playing great. What did McGonagall say?"

Ginny sighed. "She said she was worried about the injury issue, and I get that but… even if she doesn't think I'm one hundred percent now, I will be by the time the cup starts!"

He had to make a mental effort to keep his thoughts to himself. Privately, he knew that Ginny wasn't the same since she'd torn her ACL, no matter how much she denied it. And the doctors had warned her it was an inquiry with a high chance of recurrence. So he could understand McGonagall's hesitance. But he would never say that to his wife.

"Yeah, that's crazy," he said weakly.

"And then, that stupid, weasely assistant coach, Snape, said that it was silly to invest in a thirty-year-old who would probably be pregnant by the World Cup when there was plenty of twenty-three and twenty-four-year-old talent to be found," she Ginny seethed. "I mean, can you believe that! Saying I shouldn't be chosen because I'd probably get pregnant! It is 2023, dude, what the fuck. As if I've got no control. And how is it even his business? I mean, we aren't planning on having children at all, but no, he just assumes that every woman must be a baby-making machine!"

Dean felt a twinge of... Something. Sadness or irritation, or something in between, he wasn't entirely sure. He had never been completely sure about having children – in some ways the thought appealed to him, but he also liked the freedom of his life the way it was, and he knew kids would change that – but Ginny had always been adamant that she didn't want children at all. For a long time, he'd thought he was fine with that. He thought it was almost easier like this, since he didn't have to make a decision. But now sometimes he wondered about that… Maybe he was having some doubts. Or maybe he just wanted to be part of the decision after all.

He forced himself to focus on the actual issue. "That's ridiculous, Gin, I'm sorry. That's a wildly inappropriate thing for him to say."

"It was!" she agreed emphatically. "And McGonagall was pissed too, she chewed him out for it, but still. It's absolutely insane."

Dean wrapped his arms around her, peppering her cheek with kisses until he earned a smile from her. She seemed to relax in his arms, melting into him and tipping her head back to meet his touch. Any bad feelings he'd been having fell away as he brushed the tip of his nose over her cheek, because he loved this. He loved making her feel better when she was all riled up and talking her down off the ledge. He loved being her rock. When he held her like this, he didn't need anything else.

Ginny turned in his arms, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close so she could kiss him properly. Her fingers fisted in his shirt, twisting the fabric at the nape of his neck.

He cupped her cheek as he kissed her, his long eyelids fluttering against the freckles on her cheeks. But even as his lips drifted over hers, Dean felt something niggling in the deepest recesses of his heart.

Something that just felt… off.

The storms are raging on the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret

Dean pushed open the door to his best friend's pub, grinning when Seamus looked up in surprise from behind the bar. It was only 4 in the afternoon, not exactly prime time for the Irish pub, but Dean was perfectly alright with that.

"Mind if I hide out here for a while?" he said, sliding onto one of the bar stools. "Ginny's on a tear again."

"What'd you do this time?" Seamus asked, grabbing a glass and pouring Dean a Guinness. Truthfully, it wasn't Dean's favourite beer, but Seamus had been on a mission to get him to 'appreciate this miracle of Irish brewing' since they were fifteen.

"I didn't do anything!" he answered, throwing up his hands.

"Mhmm, sure," Seamus replied doubtfully.

"I didn't! She's ticked off about football stuff," Dean said with a shrug.

Seamus frowned. "I thought that was better now that the coach was picking her or whatever?"

"Yeah, McGonagall said she'd probably get the call-up for the World Cup," he answered, "but now I guess it's looking like she won't be a starter, and you know Ginny, being a sub isn't good enough for her, she wants to lead the team. Honestly, I'm not sure she'll settle for anything short of being the bloody captain."

"Christ, I can't remember the last time I heard you speak so unsympathetically about her," Seamus said, his sandy-coloured eyebrows arching high on his freckled forehead.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"Don't apologise to me, mate, I don't care," he chuckled, "she's your wife. I'm just surprised to hear it, that's all. You've always been so disgustingly smitten."

"Yeah, I…" Dean felt like his heart was beating in his throat, and he quickly chugged his beer to keep from choking on the words he wasn't sure he wanted to say. Once he said them, they couldn't be unsaid. "I'm not sure I feel the same way anymore. About Ginny."

Seamus paused, looking at his best friend incredulously. "What the hell, Dean?"

"What?!"

"What's the deal with you always wanting to ruin your own life?" Seamus asked, looking very much like he wanted to slap some sense into his friend. "Hmm? You've got a wife people would kill you for!"

"I know that, I do," he answered, shaking his head as something like shame washed over him. "I can't help it though."

"Mate, if it's because she's been a bit grumpy lately, just give it some time," Seamus advised. "I'm sure once the World Cup is over she'll be back to her usual self."

Dean shook his head again. "It's not that. I just… Maybe everyone was right about getting married young."

Seamus was quiet, but his silence spoke volumes. Hadn't he been one of the very people to warn Dean that there was no rush? More than once he'd counselled his friend to take his time and not jump into a marriage prematurely. But Dean had been so certain, absolutely convinced that he wanted Ginny for the rest of his life. No matter how many people had told him to slow down, to wait, he hadn't wanted to hear it – not from Seamus, or his own parents, or Ginny's. His mind had been made up.

But now Dean was wondering if he had been blind all those years ago. Maybe his friends and family had been right, or maybe they'd been able to see something he hadn't. But how was he supposed to know? What if this was just that whole seven-year itch thing, albeit a couple of years early?

"Dean, in all seriousness, what makes you think things have changed?" Seamus asked, leaning his elbows on the bartop.

"I don't know, I just… haven't been feeling it lately," he answered with a heavy sigh, tipping back the last of his Guinness. "It's not like I hate her or anything like that, it's not even like we're fighting all the time. It's more just… I feel like we're just cohabitating. We don't do much together, and I don't care that we don't. I don't feel anything. I used to love being her biggest supporter and taking care of her when she was upset, but now I just don't care. I don't enjoy seeing her upset, but I feel like I'm just going through the motions of cheering her up or cheering her on. I don't miss her when she goes away. And I feel like I don't smile as much anymore."

"That sounds pretty grim, mate," Seamus said in reply, reaching for a bottle of whiskey and pouring them each a substantial glass.

"I know, I know." He shook his head. "I just don't… feel the love anymore, mate. And I don't know what to do about it."

"Well…" Seamus frowned in thought. "For now, I say you drink about it. But in the long run, I think you have to decide whether or not you think you can get those feelings for her back. And if the answer is no, then I think you need to let her try to find someone who can give her that. She doesn't deserve to be married to someone who doesn't love her for the rest of her life. And neither do you, Dean."

"Thanks," Dean answered, taking a long sip of whiskey.

Deep down, he already knew the answer to the question Seamus had posed. Whether or not he was ready to face the consequences of that answer… he wasn't too sure.

No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love

Dean walked through their home, taking in all the details – the photo frames from all the vacations they'd taken, the carpet they'd picked out together, the painting he'd made for her hanging over the mantle. It all filled him with an intense sadness, something that permeated to his very core. They seemed to be reminders of a person, a version of himself, that no longer existed. In each item and memory, he saw the gesture of a man deeply in love, and though it made him sad, it also made him certain.

He could not stay.

He sighed, turning away from the mementos that filled their living room – her living room now. Lingering in his feelings would not change anything. Dean stepped out into the hallway, where his duffel bag sat with the last of his belongings.

Ginny stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her arms folded over her chest as she leaned on the doorjamb. She frowned at him, but otherwise her expression was stony-faced and difficult to read. Her stance almost looked nonchalant, but he knew her well enough to pick up on the tension keeping each of her muscles taut.

"Um, right, well…" Dean looked around awkwardly, entirely unsure of what to say. How does one say goodbye when they're leaving their spouse for good? "Good luck, Ginny. I… I really hope things work out for you. I hope you'll be happy."

She nodded, and for a second she looked like she was going to say something, but instead she turned away and walked into the kitchen, out of his sight.

Again, Dean sighed. He picked up his bag and flung it over his shoulder as he turned toward the front door. He understood why Ginny was angry and upset with him, of course he did. But he also wished she could see what he did – if he stayed, it would only make them both miserable.

It had been difficult to tell her that he wasn't in love with her anymore, and he couldn't imagine how painful it had been to hear. But it wasn't her fault, and he hoped she knew that. He'd tried to make it clear. It was just… it was just the way things happened. Nobody's fault. Sometimes people just didn't work together. Sometimes feelings changed.

Dean felt a bit like a failure as he stepped out onto the path and shut the front door behind him. What kind of person was he that he couldn't love such an incredible woman anymore? Not a good one.

But he reminded himself that it was precisely because he loved her that he was doing this. Because he loved her the same way he loved a friend, the same way he loved family. But not the way he should love his partner. He simply wasn't in love with her anymore, and there wasn't anything he could do to change that. There wasn't anything either of them could do to change it.

And Ginny deserved that. She deserved someone who was as wildly and madly in love with her as he'd been the day they married.

Back then, he had done anything and everything in his power to make sure that she knew how much he loved her, to make her feel as adored as she was. Now there was just one thing he could do to show his love.

Leaving her was the only act of love he had left.