HP Fic: When It's Gone (Part 2 of 3) Seamus/Dean
Title: When It's Gone
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author: wook77
Pairing: Dean/Seamus, Harry/Ginny, Neville/Susan, Dennis/Parvati
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~20,000
Warnings: graphics, timeline jumping, Spoiler Warnings (highlight to read)*possible violent content, discussions of character death, canon compliant, epilogue compliant, minor character death*
Summary: Sometimes, you don't know what you've got until it's gone. Dean is about to understand just what Seamus's incessant babble means to him. Harry's left to piece together just what went wrong.
A/N: See Part 1 for A/N
Part 1
Part 3
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Ten Days Later
"Please, please don't do this. Please, there's no reason to do it. Please, Merlin, please," Susan pleads as she stares at their friend in the broken remains of the bedroom she shares with Neville. Her heart's racing as she tries to think of where she placed her wand and just where Neville might be. Merlin, if he walks in on this, she doesn't know what she'll do. Holding out a hand, she tries to placate, tries to reason and do anything to get them both out of the bedroom so Neville has time to find his wand and protect them.
"There's more than enough of a reason. It's not you I'm here for. Step aside," he commands as he waves his wand threateningly. Her eyes track the movement of the wand, catching the sight of her ruined furniture, the broken mirror off the side of the broken dresser with clothing sticking out of it. Then back again, skipping over the crazed man and then over to the other side where her nightstand lies in shambles. She can feel the destroyed mattress tickling the backs of her legs where her nightgown ends midcalf and wonders what she's going to do to protect Neville because it has to be Neville that he's here for.
"No," she says, standing her ground. "Put the wand down and I'll get you a cuppa. Just, please, don't do this."
"Maybe they'll remember your sacrifice more than they remembered anyone else's. Avada Kedavra!" Susan sees the green light and falls to the ground. She doesn't see Neville racing into the bedroom and seeing his world crumple as she does. She doesn't see the way that their former friend grins and then turns to Neville, doesn't hear Stupefy and doesn't know that Neville's gone in a flash of Apparition.
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Eleven Days Later
"Seamus," Dean murmurs against Seamus's chest. "I'm so glad you're back. I missed you."
"Didn't want to kill me for skivving off like that?"
"Never." Dean kisses Seamus's chest and, briefly, wonders at the odd flavour on his tongue.
"Spain has nothing on you. Only went there to figure myself out."
"And did you figure yourself out?"
"Course I did."
"What'd you figure?"
"That I want you." Seamus kisses the top of Dean's head. "Need you." Seamus pulls his hand up and presses a kiss to the back of it. "Love you." And another kiss, this time to his forehead.
"Just want you here. Stay," he murmurs once more, accompanying his demand with a kiss pressed against Seamus's skin. He can taste Seamus and it's so glorious to taste him again, he's missed it. It tastes like heaven.
Seamus grins at him and then pushes him on his back, pouncing on top of him. "You've got me."
"Good," he says and then winces when Seamus bites at his chest, marking him with a hickey that'll take weeks to go away.
Dean comes awake to blinding lights glaring down on him, a horrendous headache and shouted commands to stay on his belly. He's curled around a pillow, his nose buried into the fabric like he used to sleep with Seamus. For a moment, he wonders, muttering, "Shame."
"Stay where you are! Stupefy!"
He's frozen in place as he's levitated and taken out of his new, temporary flat. As he floats into the main room, he sees Harry standing there.
"Dean, I'm sorry but it's standard operating procedure." Harry refuses to make eye contact as Dean floats past him, down the stairs and out into the night. Harry has to be walking behind him as he says, "Let's get him to headquarters," before the world goes dark.
Dean wakes in the same cell as before. He's in his sleep bottoms and his feet are cold. Sitting up, he turns to look at the door and sees Harry staring at him.
"Malfoy will be here shortly. Don't say anything until he gets here." Harry turns on his heel and walks away.
True to the words, Malfoy comes striding down the hallway shortly after, a bundle of clothing in his arms.
"Malfoy, what's - "
"I've secured a private room for us where you can change, get comfortable. Say nothing until then." Malfoy stands off to the side as the guard opens the door and then follows them to a small office that more closely resembles a closet, where Malfoy gestures for him to change before turning to face the door. "We only have a few minutes. Tell me if you had a single thing to do with the murder of Susan Bones before we go into the room with Potter."
"Susan?" Dean pauses, his shirt halfway buttoned and his trousers gaping open.
"Did you have anything to do with the murder of Susan Bones and the possible murder of Neville Longbottom?"
"Nev, too?" Dean's heart is thudding in his chest.
"What's that on your chest?"
"My chest?" Dean looks down and sees the brush burn on his chest. "I don't know."
The knock on the door interrupts before Malfoy can ask another question let alone give Dean enough time to let his brain catch up with what's going on. Dean fastens his trousers and does up his shirt while Malfoy gets the door. His steps are wooden as he follows to the interrogation room.
"Where were you last night?" Harry asks as they enter the room.
"Allow my client enough time to sit, at least, Potter," Malfoy says as they take their seats on the opposite side of the table.
"Where were you last night?"
"In the flat."
"Didn't go for a pint last night?"
"Uh," Dean can feel the weight of the damnation in Harry's eyes. "I did. Just down to the Leaky for a pint and then right back to the flat."
"You what?" Malfoy exclaims as Dean flushes. "You were ordered not to leave the flat!"
"I was going crazy. It's so small and there isn't anything to do! I'm sorry, all right?! I just needed to get out and Nev was nice enough to listen to me about Seamus and - "
"So Nev talked to you about the disappearance of Seamus and you what? Killed him and his wife because of it?"
"Harry, you can't believe that! It was only a pint! Lavender was there, she saw me leave and Nev was still there. Hell, so did Parvati, Dennis and Ron! I didn't do it!"
"Oh yeah? What did you do after you left the pub?"
His mind's blank as he tries to remember. "Just right back to the flat, went to sleep right away."
"Take anyone home with you?"
"Hell no!"
"No one was with you at all? No one to verify that you went right back to the flat and slept?"
"No." Why can't he remember what happened after the pub? Why can't he remember the walk back or crawling into bed?
"And the mark on your chest?"
"I don't know."
"Dammit, Dean! Don't lie to me!"
"I don't know, Harry, honest truth."
"Dean Thomas, you are hereby remanded into custody." Harry walks to the door, yanks it open and orders the guard to escort him back to his cell.
"Malfoy!" Dean cries out as the guard manhandles him through the door. "What's going on? What's happening?"
"Just relax, Dean. We'll work through this."
Transcription: Dean,
Is that me in that painting? Liked the art from the show. About damn time everyone fawns over you and your talent. Got you a little something as a way of saying congrats and you deserve all that success and more.
Seamus
Five Years Later
The fifth anniversary of the Second Battle of Hogwarts feels like any other day. Seamus doesn't even realise what day it is for a full three minutes when he wakes up. Then realisation sets in. Maybe he won't have to go today, maybe he won't be missed at the ceremony. It's completely rubbish because someone's bound to notice him missing just like they're bound to notice Neville or Parvati or Lavender missing. They were all there and they all helped to save the Wizarding World. Damn Harry and his insistence on sharing responsibility. If he'd just take all the fucking credit, Seamus wouldn't have to stand up there on some dais and listen to people drone on about sacrifices and battles as if they'd been there rather than cowering at home. He doesn't care about any of it. He just wants to mourn his friends in his own way. In this case, "his own way" starts out with copious amounts of alcohol, contains quite a bit of avoiding other people and ends with even more alcohol.
The knock at the door interrupts his contemplation of the bottle of vodka sitting on his table. He flicks his wand, mutters the spell and the door pops open to reveal Dean. "Don't have to drag me, I'll be there."
"Was thinking more along the lines of moral support.”
"Yeah, ok," Seamus agrees and then makes a bit of space for Dean to sit on the sofa next to him. They're lined up shoulder to shoulder, hip to him, arm to arm. Dean's radiating warmth and Seamus leans against him, hoping that Dean won't say anything about the closeness. "Want to start now?"
"Only if it means you don't drink that." It might be Seamus's imagination but it feels like Dean's pressing closer to him, that Seamus can feel the play of muscle in Dean's arm as he fidgets slightly.
"Yeah, don't need it if I have you." Deciding in for a penny, in for a pound, he leans his head against Dean's arm and sighs as Dean's arm slings around his shoulders.
"When do you think they'll get around to a monument? It's been five years already."
"Dunno. Maybe another ten or so? They'll wait and drag their feet, bunch of cheap bastards."
"They all deserve better."
"Course they do."
“We have to go.”
"Yeah, I guess." Seamus waits for Dean to shift away before moving himself.
They Apparate to Hogsmeade and then walk the familiar route to Hogwarts, heading to Dumbledore's Tomb for the memorial service. Exchanging greetings with the gathered attendees, they make their way up to the stage and take their places with the rest of the participants.
"Anyone seen Wood?" Neville asks from further down the line.
"Not like him to miss this."
"I don't think he's playing, is he? They wouldn't have a game on the anniversary."
"No games scheduled for today," Ginny says from her place in line. "Else I'd be off playing."
"Good point. So where the hell is he?"
Oliver doesn't show up, though. They start the ceremony, the Minister of Magic reciting the details of the battle and the shows of heroism that day. He gestures towards Seamus to start the recitation.
"Anderson, Susan," Seamus reads the first name of those that lost their lives during the Second Wizarding War. "Ballesteros, Antonio. Black, Sirius. Bones, Amelia. Dobby the House-Elf."
Seamus hands off the list to Neville and takes his place back in line. As the names continue, he lets them wash through, barely listening as he stares straight ahead and tries, desperately, not to think about stumbling over the body of Ernie MacMillan or how broken Oliver Wood had looked as he carried Colin Creevey into the Great Hall.
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Eleven Days Later
Draco storms down the hallway after Potter. Once he catches up, he grabs Potter's shoulder and stops their progress. "I demand to know what evidence on which you're holding my client."
"My office, Malfoy," Potter says as he shrugs out from under Draco's hand.
Once they're inside, Potter gestures towards a chair while he takes the one behind the stately desk. "Dean's signature was all over the place, at the bar and up in the flat where Susan died. It was quick, at least."
Draco waits until Potter pushes the folder over to him. Magical signature, hair and skin present, and a dark spell. It points to a quick death for Susan Bones, at least.
"And Longbottom?"
"Missing."
"What about Brown? Patil? Weasley?"
"They'll give their statements in the morning."
"Potter, someone's out there abducting and/or killing people. You best send a team to fetch them now, for their own safety."
"Dean's in here, they're safe." Potter looks gobsmacked at his statement. Draco knows, absolutely positively knows that Dean is incapable of the senseless violence he's been accused of. His respect for Potter slips a bit at the way that Potter assumes Dean's guilt simply because of an ill-timed drink.
"Potter. Send a team."
"No."
"If you were ever Dean’s friend, send a team." Malfoy couldn't believe he's here, pleading with Potter, but he can't shake the belief that his client is innocent.
"Fine."
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred Twelve Days Later
"They were arguing. Dean looked pretty pissed off," Parvati says as Harry questions her about the Leaky that night.
It's a sentiment echoed by Ron and Dennis.
Heart heavy, he lets each of them go home and then follows, crawling in next to Ginny and folding her close. He refuses to think about Dean in his cell, curled around a pillow and sniffling in his sleep. It'll wait until tomorrow, when he's had time away from the grisly scene and Dean's overly voracious and defensive pleas.
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Twelve Days Later
When Dean enters the interview room, Harry starts immediately, even before Dean gets the chance to sit down. "Want to tell me why you didn't mention arguing with Neville and Susan?"
"Huh?"
"You lied to me, Thomas. You said that Nev only listened to you but he didn't, did he? He told you all sorts of things you didn't want to hear and you argued with him. When Susan stepped you, argued with her, too. Dammit, Dean! Tell me the truth!"
"Potter - "Malfoy starts to say but Harry holds up a hand and cuts him off.
"I get it. Your client, he'll answer the damned questions you pick and choose for him. Well, fuck that. Thomas is going to answer just why, exactly, he lied to me."
"I'm sorry," Dean says, looking down and shuffling towards a seat.
"That's not an answer." Harry's cold when he says it.
"I thought it'd make me look bad," Dean whispers. "We argued about Seamus, I admit it. Nev said I was giving up hope and I'm not. I want him back, Harry. I want you to find him."
"Yeah? Anything else you argue about?" Harry sits on the edge of the table, arms crossed as he waits for the answers to start.
"Shame, he wanted kids and I thought maybe he wasn't responsible enough. Nev thought I was being unfair to Seamus."
"And?"
"Susan came over and said that she could see Shame as a parent and that I wasn't being nice to his memory. His memory, Harry. Like he's dead already. But he can't be dead, right? No body so he can't be dead." Dean finally looks up and Harry ignores the pleading look. "Right?"
"Potter, you have nothing substantial to hold my client on. I would like him released. Immediately."
"I won't authorize that."
"Then I'll find someone that will. This interview is over." Draco taps Dean on his shoulder and then opens the door.
"Dammit, Malfoy, I'll tell you when this interview is over!"
"Not when you're berating my client."
Once they're out of the room, Harry lets his temper get the better of him and he hurls the file across the room, papers hanging in the air for a moment before they settle. Merlin dammit all to hell but, as much as he wants Dean to be innocent, there's just too much adding up. Sometimes, one plus one is two.
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Twenty Days Later
There's a reason that Harry barely ever does field work. He doesn't have the patience for it, for one thing. This standing about while people sift through minute traces of evidence is hard to take. It's even harder when he's standing in the flat that contains evidence that points towards the murder of one friend by another.
That musing isn't helping to distract him from the way that Draco had known something might've happened to Lavender. It doesn't distract him from the guilt that he's feeling that, sometime in the last three weeks, someone had hurt Lavender, had hurt her and then made her disappear similar to the way that Oliver Wood had disappeared all those years ago. There's even the same faint, lingering smell of stale blood in the air though the team hasn't come across the spots.
Lavender's flat is decorated about what Harry would think it would be. He regrets not visiting more often now that she's gone. At the time, there'd been plenty of excuses, plenty of time to visit later. It'd been natural for his kids to take his attention when they'd been home from Hogwarts. Plus, Teddy'd been going through a rough patch there for a bit.
Now, as a team of Aurors go through her apartment, invading her privacy as they go through drawers and tear apart her bedding, he can't help but regret that lack of visiting. He can't shake the feeling that he's never going to see Lavender Brown again. Even worse, the first memories that will spring to his mind when he thinks of her will be the overuse of pastel colors that lie shredded and destroyed all around her flat.
"Sir?" One of the trainees interrupts his thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Same signature as at the previous scenes, from what we can determine."
"Thomas?" he finally asks.
"The same, sir."
"Right. Any sign of Ms. Brown?"
"None, sir."
"I'll expect the full report on my desk in the morning."
"This morning?" the trainee's eyes go wide and that's when Harry realises that it's three in the morning.
"Late morning will be fine."
"Right, sir."
Rather than Apparating or taking the Floo, Harry walks out the door, down the stairs and into the street. Before he realises where his feet have taken him, he's at the door to Dean and Seamus's flat. He rests his head against the wood before opening the door and stepping into the flat.
Here's another friendship that had drifted away from him. He'd got wrapped up in his own family, something perfectly understandable but in light of the way that someone's taking friend after friend from him and it no longer seems so reasonable. Who was next from their circle of friends?
As he sits on the sofa in the middle of the room, he consciously doesn't think about the fact that his next stop is to head to Malfoy's house. He's too tired, too upset, to do anything but sit here and think about the way that he'd never seen this coming. What had happened that had caused Dean to break like this? What had gone so wrong that Dean would kill Seamus, Susan, Neville and Lavender? They'd all been mates, hadn't they?
He starts to pace, from the sofa to the fireplace to the bookshelves back to the sofa and then back to the fireplace once more. His eye catches a photo of all the survivors at the dedication ceremony of the memorial to those lost in the Second Battle of Hogwarts. The remaining members of Dumbledore's Army were a tangle of limbs, slung arms over one another and somber expressions. Dean and Seamus exchanged looks and Harry could see the love. They looked at one another the same as Harry and Ginny and Neville and Susan looked at one another.
He can't believe that Dean could do what he's being accused of. It hurts to think that such an appalling person lurked under his gentle exterior and that they'd been friends for thirty years. Thirty years of friendship had to count for something. There had to be some level of trust that he knew his friends.
Except that you let the friendship lapse, didn't you? interjects that voice of doubt. Even now, it sounds like Snape, deriding everything that he's so sure of.
Shaking his head, Harry heads out of the flat. He's got to find out what the hell has happened to Seamus, Neville and Lavender.
Time Unknown
Seamus doesn't know how long he's been here in the Carrows's punishment room. All he knows is that he's so cold that his legs refuse to cooperate as he's moved to another hard bed in the small closet-like room that, at one time, had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office and that it's so dark that he's afraid of light hitting his eyes. The drugs make him shaky and his throat is so parched that he's starting to have trouble breathing. They've also blurred his thought process until he can barely remember his name let alone how he got here or what happened that Dean isn't here.
Dean wouldn't be here though, would he? He's out there on the run from Snatchers and he isn't suffering. Except that Seamus thinks that Dean should also be at their flat, sleeping in their bed while wearing the Kestrals shirt that Seamus had given him.
He doesn't know what to think. All he knows is that he's never, ever going to get out of here and he doesn't know what he did to deserve it this time.
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Twenty-One Days Later
The team can't place the time of the disappearance of Lavender Brown. They can point to the signatures of certain spells cast by certain wands but they can't tell how long ago it had been. They've narrowed it down to the past two weeks but… but that doesn't eliminate Dean as a suspect as he'd been free two weeks ago.
Damn Lavender and her propensity for haring off for shopping trips all over the world all without any sort of notice to anyone else. The only reason they'd known about the disappearance was that Parvati had gotten worried when they'd had plans to meet for dinner and Lavender hadn't made it.
If anyone had told him two months ago that he would currently be investigating the multiple disappearances of his best friends and that another friend would be the one accused of masterminding it, he would've laughed at them. There would've definitely been a remark or two about needing to pop in to see Parvati at St. Mungo's for a mental evaluation.
Eventually, Harry can't put off questioning Dean once more. His assistant contacts Malfoy and makes the arrangements so that, by the time Harry's gathered himself enough to go to the interrogation rooms, Draco's had a few minutes with Dean.
"What happened with Lavender Brown, Dean?" he asks immediately after shutting the door. Taking in the way that Dean stares blankly at him makes Harry believe in Dean's innocence once more.
"Lav?"
"Yes, Dean. What happened to her?"
"What are you talking about?"
"She's missing, same as Seamus and Neville, as you're well aware."
"The evidence of Dean's involvement is what, exactly?"
"His wand signature was found in her flat, same as everywhere else that a disappearance has been noted."
"Considering the gaps in memory, his wand could very well have been used by someone else. That is no evidence whatsoever. Once you have evidence, you can continue questioning my client. Until then, I will continue working to secure his release."
Harry pointedly ignores Malfoy, turning his back on him as he turns towards Dean. "Dean, mate, friend to friend, you have anything to do with all of this shite going down, you need to be honest with me. It'll go easier on you if you're honest with me."
"I don't, Harry, I swear I don't. I just… I just want Seamus back and not have any of this happen."
"Just think about it, Dean. I can help you if you're square with me." Harry leaves before Malfoy can berate him for talking to Dean after Malfoy closed the interview.
As Harry walks towards his office, he thinks about the way that Dean had refused to make eye contact, a clear admission of guilt as far as Harry is concerned. Yet, even with that conviction, Malfoy somehow convinces the Minister of Magic to release Dean into Malfoy's custody, to reside with Malfoy and to check in with an Auror regularly. As if the Aurors are parole officers rather than Dark Wizard hunters.
Transcription: Seamus,
Dinner tonight? My treat? I need to get away from this memorial and I think a drink is well deserved for the pair of us especially since I haven't seen you in weeks. I miss you, mate.
Dean
Time Unknown
"Seamus? Wake up, Seamus. Am I glad to see you!" Neville shakes Seamus awake.
He hadn't thought he'd wake up, not after the torture the Carrows had meted out after his capture. That he has woken, even better, that he's woken in the Room of Requirement with a friend, means more to him than he can conceive. He'd had such strange dreams while he'd been out.
"Seamus?" Neville sounds worried so Seamus forces a smile.
"Yeah, here," he tries to say but his throat's so dry that his voice breaks and only gibberish comes out.
"Let me get you some water." It's only once Neville's gone that Seamus realises that Neville had been holding his hand. He misses the connection fiercely and calls out. "Here, mate, sip at this slowly."
Seamus feels the straw poke his lips, thirst swamping him so much that it's all he can do to resist gulping at the water.
"That's it, nice and slow."
"The Carrows did a number on me," he says as he gets enough that he can breathe without feeling like the air is getting hung up on his throat.
"The Carrows?" Neville asks.
"Yeah, they were so pissed that I … I…" He can't quite remember what he'd done this last time to earn their ire. He'd done so much shite already that it's all blurred into one unholy living hell of a year.
"It's all right, Seamus. They can't get you here. I'll keep that from happening." Neville lightly pushes him back onto the cot and then smoothes the hair out of his face.
"Anyone else make it here?"
"No, not yet," Neville says and then mutters something.
"What's that last?"
"Thank Merlin that they haven't. It means they're out there still fighting the good fight."
"Aye, there's a point." Seamus reaches up and grabs at Neville's hand. "Stay here? For a bit?"
"Course, mate. Wouldn't dream of leaving you. Go to sleep and you'll feel better when you wake up."
Neville's hand keeps its rhythmic motions on his hair, smoothing across his forehead, fingertips carding through his hair, and it lulls Seamus off to sleep. When next he wakes, Neville's got bruises that weren't there before.
"Mate? They get you?"
"Yeah but it's all right. You're all right."
"Sorry to be so weak. I'll get back to normal right quick. Swear."
"I know, Seamus. It's all right. Just get better."
"You hear anything from anyone else?" Seamus struggles to sit up and Neville helps him, pushing the cup to Seamus's lips so that he can sip at the water again.
"No."
"I wish we'd hear something from Harry. He'll come through for us, won't he?"
"He will," Neville says decisively and Seamus nods his head. Of course Harry will. That's what they're here for, that's why they're stirring shite at Hogwarts, keeping the Death Eaters focused on them instead of on Harry, giving him every opportunity to find whatever it is he needs to find to save them all. And if Harry can't save them, they'll save themselves. They're a well trained army, even if they are just a bunch of kids. Neville's enduring faith's kept Seamus going before, kept them all going, so it bolsters him now same as always.
They lapse into quiet as they sit on Seamus's cot, shoulder to shoulder. He doesn't know how long they sit there but Seamus can't bring himself to move away. It's like after all the torture, he's touch-starved for positive touch.
"You think Dean's all right out there?"
"Last I heard, he was having a rough patch."
"Gotta be rough out there on the run like that. I hope he's found someone to help him."
"He has, I'm certain of it. He's got good people helping him. I bet even Harry's helping him." Neville looks around the room and then embraces him, hard. Seamus doesn't care why, only hugs back.
"I'm glad we're both here. And I'm glad that Dean has Harry looking after him. How'd you find that out?"
"Err, I caught a copy of the Daily Prophet before I got here." Neville sits back and then hugs him again. "We're going to get out of here and get you fixed up."
"I'm just so tired."
"Then go back to sleep."
"What about the Carrows?"
"I won't let anyone hurt you again." Neville swears it and then pushes Seamus back towards the bed.
"Thanks, Nev. This is why you lead the Army. You're a good mate."
The next time Seamus wakes up, Neville's face is bruised almost beyond recognition. He's also got a tremble in his hands like… like… dammit, Seamus can't remember.
"Nev? What's going on?" Seamus asks as he sits up and shakes his head. Maybe he's had too much sleep because he's got a hell of a nasty headache.
"Seamus, don't trust - " Neville's interrupted by the door opening and Colin hurrying into the room.
"Colin!" Seamus yells and then slides off the bed, collapsing onto the ground. He'd forgotten, for just a moment, how weak he really is.
"Seamus! What's wrong?" Colin hurries over and helps him up. "Don't just stand there, Nev. Help him."
Seamus feels arms come around him and lift him onto the bed. Neville's gentle as he tucks Seamus back into bed. "Shouldn't move around so much."
"Hey, Nev?" Seamus asks as an idea finally occurs to him.
"Yeah?"
"Where's your wand?"
Colin and Neville exchange a look before Neville responds. "The Carrows stole it from me."
"Oh, that'd be why you haven't spelled me better. Fucking Carrows, mate, they need to go."
"Yeah, that they do."
"We should concentrate on more important things," Colin says as he sits on the bed next to Seamus.
"Yeah? Like what?" Neville says as he glares at Colin.
"Like what we're doing here."
"I know what I'm doing here - " Neville starts to say and then abruptly stops.
They lapse into silence, uncomfortable and fraught with tension, until Colin says, "I'm hungry."
"You think the pair of you could scout us something to eat?" Neville and Colin exchange looks once more.
"I don't think I should leave you alone," Neville says.
"It'd only take a bit and I'm hungry."
"Maybe you should go on your own." Neville glares at Colin.
"Safer if the pair of you go." Seamus tries to play the peacekeeper and can't understand why Neville turns that glare on him and then sighs, dejected and resigned.
"For you, mate," Neville says and then follows Colin out of the room.
When they re-enter the Room of Requirement, Neville's shaking, sweat dripping all over him as he convulses.
"The hell happened?" Seamus demands as he sits up and forces himself off the bed to help Colin carry Neville into the room.
"Don't trust 'em, mate, don't trust 'em," Neville mutters as he looks up at Seamus. "Only here to make you suffer. I want my Susan."
"Susan?"
"My Susan. She was beautiful and now she's gone." Neville weeps quietly as Colin puts him on the bed. His body flops down and it's Seamus's turn to be the stronger one as he holds on to Neville. "She's gone and we're all dead soon. All dead and not a reason for it."
"There's always a reason. Maybe you'll get your names on a monument or something," Colin says as he sits in a chair across the room.
"Shush it," Seamus demands of Colin before looking down at Neville and smoothing his hair. "I'm sure Susan's fine."
"She's dead, Seamus, dead because of a nutter."
"Was it the Carrows?"
"I got food," Colin interrupts, hurrying across the room with a basket of food. "Here, eat up."
"Not hungry," Neville says against Seamus's legs and Seamus nods in agreement. His hunger had disappeared as soon as he saw how battered Neville is. "Just want to sleep and wake up and find it's all a nightmare."
"C'mon, mate, budge up here. We'll sleep it off and everything'll be fine." Seamus tugs at Neville, urging him further up and then pulls the blanket over them. "Wish we had a wand."
"Me too."
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Twenty-Four Days Later
Dean's grateful to Malfoy, a sentiment he'd never thought he'd express. Malfoy had opened his house to Dean with no questions asked, had simply had a room prepared for Dean. Dean's not ashamed to admit that he'd cried when he saw the spare blanket from the bed that Seamus and him had shared.
Somehow, it still smells like them, like Seamus's woodsy shampoo and Dean's oil paints. He spends hours wrapped in that blanket, ignoring the knock on the door and the softly spoken invitation to dinner.
Time Unknown
Dean's tongue in his mouth tastes like heaven.
He's never kissed Dean.
He'll never kiss Dean.
Continue to Part 3
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author: wook77
Pairing: Dean/Seamus, Harry/Ginny, Neville/Susan, Dennis/Parvati
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~20,000
Warnings: graphics, timeline jumping, Spoiler Warnings (highlight to read)*possible violent content, discussions of character death, canon compliant, epilogue compliant, minor character death*
Summary: Sometimes, you don't know what you've got until it's gone. Dean is about to understand just what Seamus's incessant babble means to him. Harry's left to piece together just what went wrong.
A/N: See Part 1 for A/N
Part 1
Part 3
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Ten Days Later
"Please, please don't do this. Please, there's no reason to do it. Please, Merlin, please," Susan pleads as she stares at their friend in the broken remains of the bedroom she shares with Neville. Her heart's racing as she tries to think of where she placed her wand and just where Neville might be. Merlin, if he walks in on this, she doesn't know what she'll do. Holding out a hand, she tries to placate, tries to reason and do anything to get them both out of the bedroom so Neville has time to find his wand and protect them.
"There's more than enough of a reason. It's not you I'm here for. Step aside," he commands as he waves his wand threateningly. Her eyes track the movement of the wand, catching the sight of her ruined furniture, the broken mirror off the side of the broken dresser with clothing sticking out of it. Then back again, skipping over the crazed man and then over to the other side where her nightstand lies in shambles. She can feel the destroyed mattress tickling the backs of her legs where her nightgown ends midcalf and wonders what she's going to do to protect Neville because it has to be Neville that he's here for.
"No," she says, standing her ground. "Put the wand down and I'll get you a cuppa. Just, please, don't do this."
"Maybe they'll remember your sacrifice more than they remembered anyone else's. Avada Kedavra!" Susan sees the green light and falls to the ground. She doesn't see Neville racing into the bedroom and seeing his world crumple as she does. She doesn't see the way that their former friend grins and then turns to Neville, doesn't hear Stupefy and doesn't know that Neville's gone in a flash of Apparition.
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Eleven Days Later
"Seamus," Dean murmurs against Seamus's chest. "I'm so glad you're back. I missed you."
"Didn't want to kill me for skivving off like that?"
"Never." Dean kisses Seamus's chest and, briefly, wonders at the odd flavour on his tongue.
"Spain has nothing on you. Only went there to figure myself out."
"And did you figure yourself out?"
"Course I did."
"What'd you figure?"
"That I want you." Seamus kisses the top of Dean's head. "Need you." Seamus pulls his hand up and presses a kiss to the back of it. "Love you." And another kiss, this time to his forehead.
"Just want you here. Stay," he murmurs once more, accompanying his demand with a kiss pressed against Seamus's skin. He can taste Seamus and it's so glorious to taste him again, he's missed it. It tastes like heaven.
Seamus grins at him and then pushes him on his back, pouncing on top of him. "You've got me."
"Good," he says and then winces when Seamus bites at his chest, marking him with a hickey that'll take weeks to go away.
Dean comes awake to blinding lights glaring down on him, a horrendous headache and shouted commands to stay on his belly. He's curled around a pillow, his nose buried into the fabric like he used to sleep with Seamus. For a moment, he wonders, muttering, "Shame."
"Stay where you are! Stupefy!"
He's frozen in place as he's levitated and taken out of his new, temporary flat. As he floats into the main room, he sees Harry standing there.
"Dean, I'm sorry but it's standard operating procedure." Harry refuses to make eye contact as Dean floats past him, down the stairs and out into the night. Harry has to be walking behind him as he says, "Let's get him to headquarters," before the world goes dark.
Dean wakes in the same cell as before. He's in his sleep bottoms and his feet are cold. Sitting up, he turns to look at the door and sees Harry staring at him.
"Malfoy will be here shortly. Don't say anything until he gets here." Harry turns on his heel and walks away.
True to the words, Malfoy comes striding down the hallway shortly after, a bundle of clothing in his arms.
"Malfoy, what's - "
"I've secured a private room for us where you can change, get comfortable. Say nothing until then." Malfoy stands off to the side as the guard opens the door and then follows them to a small office that more closely resembles a closet, where Malfoy gestures for him to change before turning to face the door. "We only have a few minutes. Tell me if you had a single thing to do with the murder of Susan Bones before we go into the room with Potter."
"Susan?" Dean pauses, his shirt halfway buttoned and his trousers gaping open.
"Did you have anything to do with the murder of Susan Bones and the possible murder of Neville Longbottom?"
"Nev, too?" Dean's heart is thudding in his chest.
"What's that on your chest?"
"My chest?" Dean looks down and sees the brush burn on his chest. "I don't know."
The knock on the door interrupts before Malfoy can ask another question let alone give Dean enough time to let his brain catch up with what's going on. Dean fastens his trousers and does up his shirt while Malfoy gets the door. His steps are wooden as he follows to the interrogation room.
"Where were you last night?" Harry asks as they enter the room.
"Allow my client enough time to sit, at least, Potter," Malfoy says as they take their seats on the opposite side of the table.
"Where were you last night?"
"In the flat."
"Didn't go for a pint last night?"
"Uh," Dean can feel the weight of the damnation in Harry's eyes. "I did. Just down to the Leaky for a pint and then right back to the flat."
"You what?" Malfoy exclaims as Dean flushes. "You were ordered not to leave the flat!"
"I was going crazy. It's so small and there isn't anything to do! I'm sorry, all right?! I just needed to get out and Nev was nice enough to listen to me about Seamus and - "
"So Nev talked to you about the disappearance of Seamus and you what? Killed him and his wife because of it?"
"Harry, you can't believe that! It was only a pint! Lavender was there, she saw me leave and Nev was still there. Hell, so did Parvati, Dennis and Ron! I didn't do it!"
"Oh yeah? What did you do after you left the pub?"
His mind's blank as he tries to remember. "Just right back to the flat, went to sleep right away."
"Take anyone home with you?"
"Hell no!"
"No one was with you at all? No one to verify that you went right back to the flat and slept?"
"No." Why can't he remember what happened after the pub? Why can't he remember the walk back or crawling into bed?
"And the mark on your chest?"
"I don't know."
"Dammit, Dean! Don't lie to me!"
"I don't know, Harry, honest truth."
"Dean Thomas, you are hereby remanded into custody." Harry walks to the door, yanks it open and orders the guard to escort him back to his cell.
"Malfoy!" Dean cries out as the guard manhandles him through the door. "What's going on? What's happening?"
"Just relax, Dean. We'll work through this."
Transcription: Dean,
Is that me in that painting? Liked the art from the show. About damn time everyone fawns over you and your talent. Got you a little something as a way of saying congrats and you deserve all that success and more.
Seamus
Five Years Later
The fifth anniversary of the Second Battle of Hogwarts feels like any other day. Seamus doesn't even realise what day it is for a full three minutes when he wakes up. Then realisation sets in. Maybe he won't have to go today, maybe he won't be missed at the ceremony. It's completely rubbish because someone's bound to notice him missing just like they're bound to notice Neville or Parvati or Lavender missing. They were all there and they all helped to save the Wizarding World. Damn Harry and his insistence on sharing responsibility. If he'd just take all the fucking credit, Seamus wouldn't have to stand up there on some dais and listen to people drone on about sacrifices and battles as if they'd been there rather than cowering at home. He doesn't care about any of it. He just wants to mourn his friends in his own way. In this case, "his own way" starts out with copious amounts of alcohol, contains quite a bit of avoiding other people and ends with even more alcohol.
The knock at the door interrupts his contemplation of the bottle of vodka sitting on his table. He flicks his wand, mutters the spell and the door pops open to reveal Dean. "Don't have to drag me, I'll be there."
"Was thinking more along the lines of moral support.”
"Yeah, ok," Seamus agrees and then makes a bit of space for Dean to sit on the sofa next to him. They're lined up shoulder to shoulder, hip to him, arm to arm. Dean's radiating warmth and Seamus leans against him, hoping that Dean won't say anything about the closeness. "Want to start now?"
"Only if it means you don't drink that." It might be Seamus's imagination but it feels like Dean's pressing closer to him, that Seamus can feel the play of muscle in Dean's arm as he fidgets slightly.
"Yeah, don't need it if I have you." Deciding in for a penny, in for a pound, he leans his head against Dean's arm and sighs as Dean's arm slings around his shoulders.
"When do you think they'll get around to a monument? It's been five years already."
"Dunno. Maybe another ten or so? They'll wait and drag their feet, bunch of cheap bastards."
"They all deserve better."
"Course they do."
“We have to go.”
"Yeah, I guess." Seamus waits for Dean to shift away before moving himself.
They Apparate to Hogsmeade and then walk the familiar route to Hogwarts, heading to Dumbledore's Tomb for the memorial service. Exchanging greetings with the gathered attendees, they make their way up to the stage and take their places with the rest of the participants.
"Anyone seen Wood?" Neville asks from further down the line.
"Not like him to miss this."
"I don't think he's playing, is he? They wouldn't have a game on the anniversary."
"No games scheduled for today," Ginny says from her place in line. "Else I'd be off playing."
"Good point. So where the hell is he?"
Oliver doesn't show up, though. They start the ceremony, the Minister of Magic reciting the details of the battle and the shows of heroism that day. He gestures towards Seamus to start the recitation.
"Anderson, Susan," Seamus reads the first name of those that lost their lives during the Second Wizarding War. "Ballesteros, Antonio. Black, Sirius. Bones, Amelia. Dobby the House-Elf."
Seamus hands off the list to Neville and takes his place back in line. As the names continue, he lets them wash through, barely listening as he stares straight ahead and tries, desperately, not to think about stumbling over the body of Ernie MacMillan or how broken Oliver Wood had looked as he carried Colin Creevey into the Great Hall.
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Eleven Days Later
Draco storms down the hallway after Potter. Once he catches up, he grabs Potter's shoulder and stops their progress. "I demand to know what evidence on which you're holding my client."
"My office, Malfoy," Potter says as he shrugs out from under Draco's hand.
Once they're inside, Potter gestures towards a chair while he takes the one behind the stately desk. "Dean's signature was all over the place, at the bar and up in the flat where Susan died. It was quick, at least."
Draco waits until Potter pushes the folder over to him. Magical signature, hair and skin present, and a dark spell. It points to a quick death for Susan Bones, at least.
"And Longbottom?"
"Missing."
"What about Brown? Patil? Weasley?"
"They'll give their statements in the morning."
"Potter, someone's out there abducting and/or killing people. You best send a team to fetch them now, for their own safety."
"Dean's in here, they're safe." Potter looks gobsmacked at his statement. Draco knows, absolutely positively knows that Dean is incapable of the senseless violence he's been accused of. His respect for Potter slips a bit at the way that Potter assumes Dean's guilt simply because of an ill-timed drink.
"Potter. Send a team."
"No."
"If you were ever Dean’s friend, send a team." Malfoy couldn't believe he's here, pleading with Potter, but he can't shake the belief that his client is innocent.
"Fine."
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred Twelve Days Later
"They were arguing. Dean looked pretty pissed off," Parvati says as Harry questions her about the Leaky that night.
It's a sentiment echoed by Ron and Dennis.
Heart heavy, he lets each of them go home and then follows, crawling in next to Ginny and folding her close. He refuses to think about Dean in his cell, curled around a pillow and sniffling in his sleep. It'll wait until tomorrow, when he's had time away from the grisly scene and Dean's overly voracious and defensive pleas.
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Twelve Days Later
When Dean enters the interview room, Harry starts immediately, even before Dean gets the chance to sit down. "Want to tell me why you didn't mention arguing with Neville and Susan?"
"Huh?"
"You lied to me, Thomas. You said that Nev only listened to you but he didn't, did he? He told you all sorts of things you didn't want to hear and you argued with him. When Susan stepped you, argued with her, too. Dammit, Dean! Tell me the truth!"
"Potter - "Malfoy starts to say but Harry holds up a hand and cuts him off.
"I get it. Your client, he'll answer the damned questions you pick and choose for him. Well, fuck that. Thomas is going to answer just why, exactly, he lied to me."
"I'm sorry," Dean says, looking down and shuffling towards a seat.
"That's not an answer." Harry's cold when he says it.
"I thought it'd make me look bad," Dean whispers. "We argued about Seamus, I admit it. Nev said I was giving up hope and I'm not. I want him back, Harry. I want you to find him."
"Yeah? Anything else you argue about?" Harry sits on the edge of the table, arms crossed as he waits for the answers to start.
"Shame, he wanted kids and I thought maybe he wasn't responsible enough. Nev thought I was being unfair to Seamus."
"And?"
"Susan came over and said that she could see Shame as a parent and that I wasn't being nice to his memory. His memory, Harry. Like he's dead already. But he can't be dead, right? No body so he can't be dead." Dean finally looks up and Harry ignores the pleading look. "Right?"
"Potter, you have nothing substantial to hold my client on. I would like him released. Immediately."
"I won't authorize that."
"Then I'll find someone that will. This interview is over." Draco taps Dean on his shoulder and then opens the door.
"Dammit, Malfoy, I'll tell you when this interview is over!"
"Not when you're berating my client."
Once they're out of the room, Harry lets his temper get the better of him and he hurls the file across the room, papers hanging in the air for a moment before they settle. Merlin dammit all to hell but, as much as he wants Dean to be innocent, there's just too much adding up. Sometimes, one plus one is two.
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Twenty Days Later
There's a reason that Harry barely ever does field work. He doesn't have the patience for it, for one thing. This standing about while people sift through minute traces of evidence is hard to take. It's even harder when he's standing in the flat that contains evidence that points towards the murder of one friend by another.
That musing isn't helping to distract him from the way that Draco had known something might've happened to Lavender. It doesn't distract him from the guilt that he's feeling that, sometime in the last three weeks, someone had hurt Lavender, had hurt her and then made her disappear similar to the way that Oliver Wood had disappeared all those years ago. There's even the same faint, lingering smell of stale blood in the air though the team hasn't come across the spots.
Lavender's flat is decorated about what Harry would think it would be. He regrets not visiting more often now that she's gone. At the time, there'd been plenty of excuses, plenty of time to visit later. It'd been natural for his kids to take his attention when they'd been home from Hogwarts. Plus, Teddy'd been going through a rough patch there for a bit.
Now, as a team of Aurors go through her apartment, invading her privacy as they go through drawers and tear apart her bedding, he can't help but regret that lack of visiting. He can't shake the feeling that he's never going to see Lavender Brown again. Even worse, the first memories that will spring to his mind when he thinks of her will be the overuse of pastel colors that lie shredded and destroyed all around her flat.
"Sir?" One of the trainees interrupts his thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Same signature as at the previous scenes, from what we can determine."
"Thomas?" he finally asks.
"The same, sir."
"Right. Any sign of Ms. Brown?"
"None, sir."
"I'll expect the full report on my desk in the morning."
"This morning?" the trainee's eyes go wide and that's when Harry realises that it's three in the morning.
"Late morning will be fine."
"Right, sir."
Rather than Apparating or taking the Floo, Harry walks out the door, down the stairs and into the street. Before he realises where his feet have taken him, he's at the door to Dean and Seamus's flat. He rests his head against the wood before opening the door and stepping into the flat.
Here's another friendship that had drifted away from him. He'd got wrapped up in his own family, something perfectly understandable but in light of the way that someone's taking friend after friend from him and it no longer seems so reasonable. Who was next from their circle of friends?
As he sits on the sofa in the middle of the room, he consciously doesn't think about the fact that his next stop is to head to Malfoy's house. He's too tired, too upset, to do anything but sit here and think about the way that he'd never seen this coming. What had happened that had caused Dean to break like this? What had gone so wrong that Dean would kill Seamus, Susan, Neville and Lavender? They'd all been mates, hadn't they?
He starts to pace, from the sofa to the fireplace to the bookshelves back to the sofa and then back to the fireplace once more. His eye catches a photo of all the survivors at the dedication ceremony of the memorial to those lost in the Second Battle of Hogwarts. The remaining members of Dumbledore's Army were a tangle of limbs, slung arms over one another and somber expressions. Dean and Seamus exchanged looks and Harry could see the love. They looked at one another the same as Harry and Ginny and Neville and Susan looked at one another.
He can't believe that Dean could do what he's being accused of. It hurts to think that such an appalling person lurked under his gentle exterior and that they'd been friends for thirty years. Thirty years of friendship had to count for something. There had to be some level of trust that he knew his friends.
Except that you let the friendship lapse, didn't you? interjects that voice of doubt. Even now, it sounds like Snape, deriding everything that he's so sure of.
Shaking his head, Harry heads out of the flat. He's got to find out what the hell has happened to Seamus, Neville and Lavender.
Time Unknown
Seamus doesn't know how long he's been here in the Carrows's punishment room. All he knows is that he's so cold that his legs refuse to cooperate as he's moved to another hard bed in the small closet-like room that, at one time, had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office and that it's so dark that he's afraid of light hitting his eyes. The drugs make him shaky and his throat is so parched that he's starting to have trouble breathing. They've also blurred his thought process until he can barely remember his name let alone how he got here or what happened that Dean isn't here.
Dean wouldn't be here though, would he? He's out there on the run from Snatchers and he isn't suffering. Except that Seamus thinks that Dean should also be at their flat, sleeping in their bed while wearing the Kestrals shirt that Seamus had given him.
He doesn't know what to think. All he knows is that he's never, ever going to get out of here and he doesn't know what he did to deserve it this time.
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Twenty-One Days Later
The team can't place the time of the disappearance of Lavender Brown. They can point to the signatures of certain spells cast by certain wands but they can't tell how long ago it had been. They've narrowed it down to the past two weeks but… but that doesn't eliminate Dean as a suspect as he'd been free two weeks ago.
Damn Lavender and her propensity for haring off for shopping trips all over the world all without any sort of notice to anyone else. The only reason they'd known about the disappearance was that Parvati had gotten worried when they'd had plans to meet for dinner and Lavender hadn't made it.
If anyone had told him two months ago that he would currently be investigating the multiple disappearances of his best friends and that another friend would be the one accused of masterminding it, he would've laughed at them. There would've definitely been a remark or two about needing to pop in to see Parvati at St. Mungo's for a mental evaluation.
Eventually, Harry can't put off questioning Dean once more. His assistant contacts Malfoy and makes the arrangements so that, by the time Harry's gathered himself enough to go to the interrogation rooms, Draco's had a few minutes with Dean.
"What happened with Lavender Brown, Dean?" he asks immediately after shutting the door. Taking in the way that Dean stares blankly at him makes Harry believe in Dean's innocence once more.
"Lav?"
"Yes, Dean. What happened to her?"
"What are you talking about?"
"She's missing, same as Seamus and Neville, as you're well aware."
"The evidence of Dean's involvement is what, exactly?"
"His wand signature was found in her flat, same as everywhere else that a disappearance has been noted."
"Considering the gaps in memory, his wand could very well have been used by someone else. That is no evidence whatsoever. Once you have evidence, you can continue questioning my client. Until then, I will continue working to secure his release."
Harry pointedly ignores Malfoy, turning his back on him as he turns towards Dean. "Dean, mate, friend to friend, you have anything to do with all of this shite going down, you need to be honest with me. It'll go easier on you if you're honest with me."
"I don't, Harry, I swear I don't. I just… I just want Seamus back and not have any of this happen."
"Just think about it, Dean. I can help you if you're square with me." Harry leaves before Malfoy can berate him for talking to Dean after Malfoy closed the interview.
As Harry walks towards his office, he thinks about the way that Dean had refused to make eye contact, a clear admission of guilt as far as Harry is concerned. Yet, even with that conviction, Malfoy somehow convinces the Minister of Magic to release Dean into Malfoy's custody, to reside with Malfoy and to check in with an Auror regularly. As if the Aurors are parole officers rather than Dark Wizard hunters.
Transcription: Seamus,
Dinner tonight? My treat? I need to get away from this memorial and I think a drink is well deserved for the pair of us especially since I haven't seen you in weeks. I miss you, mate.
Dean
Time Unknown
"Seamus? Wake up, Seamus. Am I glad to see you!" Neville shakes Seamus awake.
He hadn't thought he'd wake up, not after the torture the Carrows had meted out after his capture. That he has woken, even better, that he's woken in the Room of Requirement with a friend, means more to him than he can conceive. He'd had such strange dreams while he'd been out.
"Seamus?" Neville sounds worried so Seamus forces a smile.
"Yeah, here," he tries to say but his throat's so dry that his voice breaks and only gibberish comes out.
"Let me get you some water." It's only once Neville's gone that Seamus realises that Neville had been holding his hand. He misses the connection fiercely and calls out. "Here, mate, sip at this slowly."
Seamus feels the straw poke his lips, thirst swamping him so much that it's all he can do to resist gulping at the water.
"That's it, nice and slow."
"The Carrows did a number on me," he says as he gets enough that he can breathe without feeling like the air is getting hung up on his throat.
"The Carrows?" Neville asks.
"Yeah, they were so pissed that I … I…" He can't quite remember what he'd done this last time to earn their ire. He'd done so much shite already that it's all blurred into one unholy living hell of a year.
"It's all right, Seamus. They can't get you here. I'll keep that from happening." Neville lightly pushes him back onto the cot and then smoothes the hair out of his face.
"Anyone else make it here?"
"No, not yet," Neville says and then mutters something.
"What's that last?"
"Thank Merlin that they haven't. It means they're out there still fighting the good fight."
"Aye, there's a point." Seamus reaches up and grabs at Neville's hand. "Stay here? For a bit?"
"Course, mate. Wouldn't dream of leaving you. Go to sleep and you'll feel better when you wake up."
Neville's hand keeps its rhythmic motions on his hair, smoothing across his forehead, fingertips carding through his hair, and it lulls Seamus off to sleep. When next he wakes, Neville's got bruises that weren't there before.
"Mate? They get you?"
"Yeah but it's all right. You're all right."
"Sorry to be so weak. I'll get back to normal right quick. Swear."
"I know, Seamus. It's all right. Just get better."
"You hear anything from anyone else?" Seamus struggles to sit up and Neville helps him, pushing the cup to Seamus's lips so that he can sip at the water again.
"No."
"I wish we'd hear something from Harry. He'll come through for us, won't he?"
"He will," Neville says decisively and Seamus nods his head. Of course Harry will. That's what they're here for, that's why they're stirring shite at Hogwarts, keeping the Death Eaters focused on them instead of on Harry, giving him every opportunity to find whatever it is he needs to find to save them all. And if Harry can't save them, they'll save themselves. They're a well trained army, even if they are just a bunch of kids. Neville's enduring faith's kept Seamus going before, kept them all going, so it bolsters him now same as always.
They lapse into quiet as they sit on Seamus's cot, shoulder to shoulder. He doesn't know how long they sit there but Seamus can't bring himself to move away. It's like after all the torture, he's touch-starved for positive touch.
"You think Dean's all right out there?"
"Last I heard, he was having a rough patch."
"Gotta be rough out there on the run like that. I hope he's found someone to help him."
"He has, I'm certain of it. He's got good people helping him. I bet even Harry's helping him." Neville looks around the room and then embraces him, hard. Seamus doesn't care why, only hugs back.
"I'm glad we're both here. And I'm glad that Dean has Harry looking after him. How'd you find that out?"
"Err, I caught a copy of the Daily Prophet before I got here." Neville sits back and then hugs him again. "We're going to get out of here and get you fixed up."
"I'm just so tired."
"Then go back to sleep."
"What about the Carrows?"
"I won't let anyone hurt you again." Neville swears it and then pushes Seamus back towards the bed.
"Thanks, Nev. This is why you lead the Army. You're a good mate."
The next time Seamus wakes up, Neville's face is bruised almost beyond recognition. He's also got a tremble in his hands like… like… dammit, Seamus can't remember.
"Nev? What's going on?" Seamus asks as he sits up and shakes his head. Maybe he's had too much sleep because he's got a hell of a nasty headache.
"Seamus, don't trust - " Neville's interrupted by the door opening and Colin hurrying into the room.
"Colin!" Seamus yells and then slides off the bed, collapsing onto the ground. He'd forgotten, for just a moment, how weak he really is.
"Seamus! What's wrong?" Colin hurries over and helps him up. "Don't just stand there, Nev. Help him."
Seamus feels arms come around him and lift him onto the bed. Neville's gentle as he tucks Seamus back into bed. "Shouldn't move around so much."
"Hey, Nev?" Seamus asks as an idea finally occurs to him.
"Yeah?"
"Where's your wand?"
Colin and Neville exchange a look before Neville responds. "The Carrows stole it from me."
"Oh, that'd be why you haven't spelled me better. Fucking Carrows, mate, they need to go."
"Yeah, that they do."
"We should concentrate on more important things," Colin says as he sits on the bed next to Seamus.
"Yeah? Like what?" Neville says as he glares at Colin.
"Like what we're doing here."
"I know what I'm doing here - " Neville starts to say and then abruptly stops.
They lapse into silence, uncomfortable and fraught with tension, until Colin says, "I'm hungry."
"You think the pair of you could scout us something to eat?" Neville and Colin exchange looks once more.
"I don't think I should leave you alone," Neville says.
"It'd only take a bit and I'm hungry."
"Maybe you should go on your own." Neville glares at Colin.
"Safer if the pair of you go." Seamus tries to play the peacekeeper and can't understand why Neville turns that glare on him and then sighs, dejected and resigned.
"For you, mate," Neville says and then follows Colin out of the room.
When they re-enter the Room of Requirement, Neville's shaking, sweat dripping all over him as he convulses.
"The hell happened?" Seamus demands as he sits up and forces himself off the bed to help Colin carry Neville into the room.
"Don't trust 'em, mate, don't trust 'em," Neville mutters as he looks up at Seamus. "Only here to make you suffer. I want my Susan."
"Susan?"
"My Susan. She was beautiful and now she's gone." Neville weeps quietly as Colin puts him on the bed. His body flops down and it's Seamus's turn to be the stronger one as he holds on to Neville. "She's gone and we're all dead soon. All dead and not a reason for it."
"There's always a reason. Maybe you'll get your names on a monument or something," Colin says as he sits in a chair across the room.
"Shush it," Seamus demands of Colin before looking down at Neville and smoothing his hair. "I'm sure Susan's fine."
"She's dead, Seamus, dead because of a nutter."
"Was it the Carrows?"
"I got food," Colin interrupts, hurrying across the room with a basket of food. "Here, eat up."
"Not hungry," Neville says against Seamus's legs and Seamus nods in agreement. His hunger had disappeared as soon as he saw how battered Neville is. "Just want to sleep and wake up and find it's all a nightmare."
"C'mon, mate, budge up here. We'll sleep it off and everything'll be fine." Seamus tugs at Neville, urging him further up and then pulls the blanket over them. "Wish we had a wand."
"Me too."
Nineteen Years and One-Hundred-Twenty-Four Days Later
Dean's grateful to Malfoy, a sentiment he'd never thought he'd express. Malfoy had opened his house to Dean with no questions asked, had simply had a room prepared for Dean. Dean's not ashamed to admit that he'd cried when he saw the spare blanket from the bed that Seamus and him had shared.
Somehow, it still smells like them, like Seamus's woodsy shampoo and Dean's oil paints. He spends hours wrapped in that blanket, ignoring the knock on the door and the softly spoken invitation to dinner.
Time Unknown
Dean's tongue in his mouth tastes like heaven.
He's never kissed Dean.
He'll never kiss Dean.
Continue to Part 3