Chapter 3
„DEAN! For god's sake, WHERE ARE YOU?" his mum shouted from the kitchen. He sighed and entered the busy room.
„WHAT do you want?" he barked, trying to drown his sibling's loudly talking voices.
„I forgot to buy milk; would you do me the favour?" she answered, giving him a Come-on-you-were-always-the-good-boy-look. He sighed again.
„Fine," he murmured, pushed his seven-year-old sister Annie out of the way and put his coat on.
„WHY IS DEAN GOING OUT MUMMY?! WHY IS HE GOING OUT WHEN I'M NOT?!" his younger sister Jazmyn screamed.
„OH, SHUT UP!" he shouted and slammed the door shut. Silence surrounded him. He relaxed immediately, let out another sigh – but this time a thankful one – and walked down the street to the 24/7-shop nearby. It was really exhausting to live in a family like his. He had two older and four younger sisters, three older brothers and about a hundred cousins, who were all there to visit them today. Only because it was Christmas. Bloody hell, what was so exciting about Christmas? Dean never understood the turmoil. He would be perfectly fine if he could just stay in his room, draw, eat some sweets and maybe watch a movie later. He didn't need any company.
Well, probably Seamus could be there. He was Dean's best friend and his favorite person to be around. He loved to spend time with Sea, even if he was very talkative and energetic when he was in a good mood, which was the majority of the time. Yeah, Seamus would be all right.
Dean approached the shop quickly. It was empty, of course it was (probably because it smelled like smoke and alcohol), but it was open; Dean had never seen it closed. He entered the small shop and walked straight up to the shelf with the dairy products. He grabbed the milk and some chocolate and went to the cashier desk immediately. The poor man behind it wore his uniform and a tired, self-pitying smile. Next to him stood an old, cracking radio, which played a Muggle song named „Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas", and he seemed very lonely. Dean paid and in a paroxysm of compassion he opened the chocolate bar, broke it into two pieces and put one of them on the desk. The cashier gave him a thankful smile, and Dean smiled back before he left the shop, pushing one piece of chocolate in his mouth and the rest of it in his pocket.
He was already on his way back when he decided he'd walk the other way around; that would be a great opportunity to gather a tiny bit of time for himself. He turned on his heel and walked slowly in the other direction, enjoying the silence and the pleasingly cold snow. He watched the white snowflakes melt on his dark skin and thought of his room, where his sketchbook waited for him. He'd started to draw a picture of their Christmas tree this morning and wanted to finish it.
Caught in his thoughts, Dean didn't notice the human lieing on the ground, and he stumbled and landed on his hands and knees.
„Fuck!" he shouted, got up and cleaned his pants. Thankfully, the milk bottle remained intact, and he didn't get hurt. With a slightly angry face he turned around to see the cause of his stumbling. It was a young man with blonde hair, wearing a soaked black coat, lieing in the snow face-down. Next to him lay a trunk and a stick, and he didn't move. Dean snorted and turned around.
Silly homeless people getting drunk and then passing out in the middle of the street were none of his business. He'd just taken a few steps when he realised something and froze. He turned around, slowly, and looked at the motionless man.
He knew that coat. And that hair. He even knew that trunk, and he knew that the stick was not a stick, but a wand. He knew this guy, better than anyone else.
„Seamus?" he asked, his voice oddly shaking. No answer. Seamus lay still, so still... Dean gulped. He felt the fear rising in his heart like a black flower, blooming quickly. He could not be dead, could he?
No, Dean decided and crouched down next to his best friend. „Sea?" he repeated, but Seamus didn't answer and remained motionless. Sweat was forming on Dean's brow.
„Come on, Sea, get up! You can't just lie around here, you need to get up.." Dean stammered, not realising what he was saying. He reached out and flinched as he noticed how cold Seamus was. So unbelievably cold.
Dean swallowed hardly and then reached out once again. Don't be a coward, come on, he's just unconscious, he thought and turned his friend around. When he saw his face he winced. Seamus' face was swollen and red, bruises everywhere, and was that blood under his nose? Dean tried not to cry and bent down, pressing his ear against Seamus' lips. Yep, he did breathe, barely, but still. He breathed. He was alive.
Dean let out a small, relieved laugh before he thought of the actual problem: How was he going to take Seamus home?
He thought of using Wingardium Leviosa, but ditched the idea quickly when he noticed all the houses around. The chance of being seen by a muggle looking out of their window was way too big.
So there was only one way left. Dean sighed, got up, wiped the snow off his knees, put Seamus' wand in his pocket and then lifted Seamus up quickly. He rested him on his shoulders, nearly smiling at how light he was, then took his trunk and went home as quick as possible.