Fic: Memories as a Teacup: Chapter 4 (Dean/Seamus)
Title: Memories as a Teacup: Chapter 4
Author: wook77
Pairing:: Dean/Seamus (other slash and het pairings contained within)
Rating: PG (Eventual rating: Hard R to NC-17)
100quills prompt: 047. Teammates
Warnings: Canon compliant through DH. Pre-Epilogue. Additional Warnings at the beginning of Chapter 1.
Wordcount: Overall: ~70k This part: 4000
Summary: Four years ago, Dean Thomas died in the midst of a raid. Seamus saw it happen right in front of his eyes but seeing isn't believing and reality is in the eye of the beholder.
A/N: Many many thanks to nefernat for the beta job. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Chapter 3
Seamus didn't begrudge Dean the sleeping on his sofa bit. He didn't mind at all, it was just that he was curious how long it would last and if Dean would disappear as quickly as he'd appeared. Bracing himself, Seamus wandered out into the main room and saw Dean sprawled on the sofa, long arms twisted and hanging off the side and legs dangling over the edge. It didn't look comfortable in the least and Seamus shook his head as he walked past. He'd have to transfigure the sofa tonight. That is, if Dean stayed.
Fiddling with the kettle, he started tea and then rummaged for something in the cupboards. They were going to need food. As the water heated, he went to the main room and leaned on the doorframe and watched Dean as he slept. The small twitches in his face and hands brought back memories of running his fingers along them to still their motions. For such a still man when awake, Dean never stopped moving in his sleep. When Seamus had stilled his hands, Dean had moved his feet. When Seamus stilled his feet, he wiggled his toes. On and on it went, constant movement that almost always woke Seamus and sometimes drove him mad.
When Dean stirred, starting to wake as his right hand slapped himself across his forehead, Seamus went back into the kitchen and dug into the cupboards once more. There was a small box of biscuits in the back and he saw a few crackers as well. Poking his head into the refrigerator, he found some eggs and milk. After a careful sniff into the carton, he deemed the milk safe. There was enough there to make his mam's omelettes. Opening the drawer for a skillet, he took care to be as quiet as possible as he slid metal against metal.
"Morning." Dean's voice came from the doorway and Seamus turned and stared. Dean hadn't bothered to put a shirt on and Seamus's fingers itched to feel that flesh under his fingertips.
Dean, standing in the doorway, rubbed his hands up and down his chest. Seamus traced the path with his eyes. It was mesmerizing, the fluidity of that touch and Seamus remembered the light hearted moments when, as Dean arched back into the stretch, he'd poke Dean in the ribs and they'd laugh even as they chased one another around. Then there were the kisses that followed, playful nips or wet swipes of Dean's tongue. The kisses were the best part, even better than the feel of Dean's hands on his skin, rubbing up and down in a quest for those rare magical spots that had him losing control into laughter and need all swirled into one.
Then there were the mornings, as Dean scratched his chest, where Seamus would push Dean's hands away and do it himself. That smooth flesh under his hands would cause his fingertips to tingle. Those quiet mornings, soft touches and whispered greetings, were missed just as much as those loud, laughter filled mornings.
"Seamus?"
Seamus came back to himself and flushed. He'd been staring, tracing Dean's chest with his eyes as he relived the memories. "Yeah, sorry, hungry?"
He turned around quickly, not wanting to give up those memories just yet. It was hard, as he waited for the arms of his memory to swing around him, when the reality didn't mention the memory. Spreading his own arms wide, bracing himself against the countertop as he gripped it, his head hung low as he inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. The deep cleansing breaths helped centre him, helped him to recover his balance and his patience.
"You all right?" Dean's hand touched a shoulder blade and Seamus shuddered under the touch before flinching away.
"Hungry?" Seamus asked as he drew his arms in and fiddled with the eggs.
"Should I go?"
"No!" Seamus turned rapidly and found Dean even closer than he'd thought. "I just needed a minute. Just… give me a minute."
"Yeah, all right." Dean backed up and looked lost for a moment. "I'll just…"
"I've a confession to be making," he murmured into the awkward silence.
Dean stopped abruptly before turning.
"We were - " Seamus didn't have a chance to answer as Dean's mobile rang.
"I can ignore - " Dean started to say while Seamus said, "Go ahead and get it."
Fumbling in his denims, Dean pulled out the mobile and looked at the screen. "I have to take this."
"That's fine." But it wasn't fine, Seamus wanted to yell. He'd been about to pour his heart out, tell Dean what he'd really meant to Seamus, that they weren't just best mates, that they'd been so much more than that that Seamus hadn't ever had a word for it.
As Dean spoke to whomever was one the phone - and it sounded more like an argument than conversation - Seamus cracked the eggs and started to make the omelette. It was easier to cook than to think about his reaction. Dean was still arguing as Seamus flipped the omelette out of the pan and fixed the plates. As his table was barely large enough for one, Seamus grabbed his wand and enlarged it.
He'd forgotten that Dean was still leery of magic, a fact brought home to him when Dean's phone clattered to the ground. Not sure if he should be embarrassed for being himself or if he should have any other reaction, he ignored it all by choosing to sit at the table and start eating.
After bending to pick up his mobile, Dean snapped it closed and then came over to the table. "That was…"
"Yeah, that's magic for you, making tables bigger and freaking out the mates." Seamus ran a hand through his hair. "Look, if you're uncomfortable with it or whatever, I'll try to stop but I can't guarantee it. I use it too much and I'm used to me own ways anyway."
"I'm not… uncomfortable with it. It's just a surprise to watch it happen."
"Third year Charms, Professor Flitwick taught us how to do that. We, that is, all of us boys from the dorm, spent all night enlarging everything we could; tables, chairs, your blanket, Harry's trousers as they were so big anyway. Then Ron leans over and asks, 'wonder if this would work on our you-knows'. Nev, innocent bastard that he was, asks 'you know whats?' We were all laughing so hard that we forgot to do it. Next morning, Goyle, this dumber than a box of rocks arse, comes in to the Great Hall limping. Turns out he did try it. Only problem was that we hadn't learned how to shrink anything so he'd been like that since the day before. Fucking idiot hadn't gone to see Madam Pomfrey or anything, just kept enlarging it and enlarging it and…" Seamus couldn't continue telling the story as he was laughing so hard.
"You can do that? Enlarge it?" Dean goggled at Seamus as he laughed.
"Aye, shrink it, too."
"What happened to him? He still walking around like that?" Seamus laughed at Dean's question.
"Naw, Snape took him up to Madam Pomfrey and got him fixed."
"Have you done it?"
"Don't need to, of course. Wanna see? It's sounding like you're having more than enough problems with your girlfriend, though." The words popped out before Seamus could think about them.
Dean, instead of getting pissed off, simply laughed. And laughed. It was almost insulting with how much he was laughing. "That was my sister, Kerry. She wanted to know where I was as she just went to mum's and couldn't find me. Not sure I'm able to talk to her right now since she held the secret, same as mum and dad did. Hell, they all kept the secret from me." Dean picked up his fork and cut a bite but stopped to add, "I just want to know who I was, that's all. They can't understand that."
"Have you tried to fix it?" Seamus asked instead of what he wanted to say which was vitriolic enough towards his family for allowing him to think Dean was dead.
"Yeah, visited about a hundred doctors, had even more tests and no one could figure anything out." Dean stared at the wall in front of him. "Don't think there's anything that can be done."
"You haven't been to St. Mungo's yet so don't be giving up hope." And Seamus meant that he, himself, shouldn't be giving up hope either.
"St. Mungo's? Is that another hospit - " The phone rang again and Dean cursed under his breath. He silenced it and then looked back at Seamus. "Sister again."
"None of my business who it is." Seamus played with his food as he stared at his plate.
"All right, then. This St. Mungo's, is that another hospital? Haven't heard of it."
"Aye, it's a good place, they do wonders there. During the war…" Seamus cut himself off abruptly.
"War? What war?" Dean sounded confused.
"Not in the mood for politics this morning." Seamus picked up his plate and tossed it into the sink before walking back to the bedroom. Calmly shutting the door, he walked to the bed, sat on the edge and put his head in his hands. Christ's sake but he was torturing himself with this. He'd thought that Dean would just magically remember and then he wouldn't have to bring up the war, wouldn't have to bring up his own failures and lay them all out there on the table for Dean to see how very much Seamus had failed them. Best fucking mates and Seamus just left him there, alive and hurt, because he hadn't been able to find a pulse and he'd been too busy scrambling to look properly or even defend themselves.
The worst was that he'd done it himself, a quick offhand comment where he started to go on about how they'd gotten banged up on some of the missions and the Healers at St. Mungo's had done a good job fixing them and sending them right back out there. The war had gone on so much longer than it'd taken Harry to defeat Voldemort; it'd gone on for years after, spending their time searching out the renegade Death Eaters and the people preying on the Muggles and… and too many missions for him to think about.
He'd been so stupid to think that Dean would just remember, that there was some magic word that would make it all come back and if Seamus showed him enough art galleries or drawings or photographs, that everything would come swimming back because, dammit, he was Seamus and that was Dean and they were closer to each other than to their own families. Didn't matter what the Muggles had tried with Dean, Seamus knew Dean better and he'd be able to find that stupid fucking magic word to bring it all back. Remind him who he was and that'd be that, they'd be back together in no time.
The misery only expanded as he started to kick himself for giving up so quickly after he'd gotten Dean to realise that he wasn't crazy. Hell, Dean'd only been here for a couple of days. What did he do, though? He kicked himself that he'd been expecting something so fast and then he kicked himself for giving up and he was just so fucked up over this, so lost and confused and he just wanted Dean, his Dean, back.
Tugging at his hair with clenched fists, his head sunk lower towards his knees as his mind wandered through all those thoughts. He didn't hear the door open but he did feel the bed sink under the weight of Dean next to him.
"Bit of a slob, aren't you? Almost twisted my ankle on your trousers over there."
"Yeah, sorry." Seamus didn't look up. Instead, his hands twisted deeper into his hair and the sharp pain of the tug kept him grounded.
"I'm sorry for asking about the war. If you want me to go, it's… it's all right." Dean touched his arm and Seamus slowly pulled his hands out of his hair.
"It's not all right. It's just hard, hard to be here and to know that what we went through, you don't have a fucking clue about. You don't have a clue and I envy that." He hadn't even realised that was how he felt until he'd said it.
"Was it that bad?"
"That's one way of putting it. We don't talk about it, the ones of us that were there, right there on the front lines. We don't talk about it because if we do, it's real. If we just ignore it, just drink a pint and watch some footie, we're all right because we can pretend that it's a really realistic dream that we had. But then we go home and we're alone and it's not just a dream. So, yeah, you could say that it was bad. I'm just not ready to talk about that yet." Seamus looked up at Dean and saw how very close he was. "I'll tell you anything else but I don't want to talk about that yet."
"All right, yeah. It can't be easy to have me just reappear when you thought me dead all these years. I read the first letter you wrote to mum and…" Dean appeared so uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."
"For what? Not knowing who you are? Not your fault. I'm just a fucked up Mick is all, don't be apologising for what isn't your fault." Seamus raked his hands across his hair one more time.
"Maybe that St. Mungo's place could help. It's worth a try." Seamus could tell that Dean made the offer for Seamus and not for Dean.
"Aye, maybe." Seamus looked around the room and spotted the box of photographs and drawings that he hadn't shown Dean yet. It wasn't time yet, not quite, to show Dean what they'd been together. "Let's go do something, am sick of me flat."
"Like what?"
Seamus was at a loss. If it were a normal Saturday, one without Dean, he'd normally head to the pub, get a pint and watch some footie. When they'd been together Before, there'd been missions and reunions, hot sex and lazy afternoons spent talking. None of any of the scenarios fit very well in the current reality. Then, he saw his trainers lying in a heap on the floor and there was a pair of shorts next to them.
"You still play football?" Dean nodded slowly in response to Seamus's question. "I'm sure there'll be a pick-up game in the park."
"Yeah?" Seamus grinned and nodded. "All right, let's go. If not near you, I know of one by me."
"Brilliant."
As the afternoon passed, Seamus felt more and more comfortable with Dean as they passed back and forth and traded jibs with the other team. Seamus wasn't the quickest and certainly wasn't the best player, but the competitiveness, the defence of 'us against them' settled his nerves and he forgot, for an afternoon, that Dean wasn't the Dean from Before.
They laughed or offered a helping hand when one or the other fell and then both went straight back into the game. At the end of the afternoon, dirty and sweaty, they went to a pub with the rest of the lads they'd played with and Seamus felt normal.
"And did you see Seamus there swearing and yelling 'oi oi oi' like an arse? Christ, he must've had at least three blokes on him but he kept wanting the pass. What were you going to do, run between their legs?" Seamus tossed a rude gesture towards the bloke mocking his height.
"Next round's on you just for that, mate."
"I'm sure he makes up for his height in other ways… like cursing. How many times did you say 'fuck' this afternoon? Favourite of yours, isn't it?" Dean slapped him across the shoulder and then drank out of his pint.
"Oi, fucker, that's me lager there!" Seamus joined in the laughter at his expense as he realised that he'd used the word one more time. For spite, he reached out and grabbed Dean's pint. After taking a drink, he was tempted to spit it back in. Instead, he swallowed, made a face and then a jib about British ale.
Evening passed and Seamus figured out that he hadn't spent a day and night like this in more than four years. When the pub closed, all the blokes stumbled out with promises for next week's match and their own performances. As they walked, they lost companions until Dean and Seamus were the only ones left. Dean slung a companionable arm around Seamus's shoulders and they continued walking. Seamus leaned in to the embrace and felt complete and happy. He was quick to cross himself at the thought, sending a prayer of thanks that from the emotional rollercoaster of the morning, the day was ending on such a good note at night. They didn't speak and that was all right with him, he'd rather just have the sound of the street and the weight of Dean's arm.
When they reached the flat, Seamus transfigured the sofa into a bed and stumbled into his room before he could invite Dean to join him. It was enough that he still felt the weight of Dean’s arm over his shoulders and that memory soothed him to sleep and brought dreams of Before.
The next morning, Seamus woke early, even with the late night before. He had a few calls to make and he didn't want Dean to hear them. The first call was to Parvati and, expecting it to last a while, Seamus slipped out onto the small balcony outside and shut the window behind him.
"Hello?"
"That's all I get, a hello? No nice to talk to you as it's been forever and a day? No where the hell have you been? None of that at all?" Seamus teased and was gratified to hear Parvati's breathy laugh.
"Nice to talk to you as it's been forever and a day and where the hell have you been? Does that make you feel better?"
"Aye, that it does. I'm better," Seamus didn't continue as he didn't need to. Parvati would know what that meant. During the war, she'd found her niche and it had surprised almost everyone that it was in healing. She'd fix them up and send them back out only to fix them up again. More than the physical wounds, Parvati would help with the mental. She'd always be willing to listen and, when needed, offer advice or a kick to the arse to get a body moving again. After Dean had died, she'd worked to put Seamus back together and that was a debt he'd never be able to repay, though it was also one that she refused to acknowledge.
"That's good, real good." He heard the relief in her voice and his smile faded.
"I've a favour to be asking. One you won't be believing when you see but it's true."
"You've gone cryptic on me. Shall I divine what I think you mean from that or are you just going to ask?"
"I've a… friend that's been injured, doesn't have any memories after eleven. You think you might be able to help him?" Seamus stumbled over the request.
"When did you want to bring him in?" That casual acceptance was what Seamus had craved and counted on. They hadn't spoken in two years and Parvati was still willing to help him, let him sweep back into her life and upset it.
"Monday?"
"Sure, Seamus, that's fine. Make it around noon and I can take a later lunch. I'm booked in the morning, though. To repay me, you'll have to come to dinner. We've missed you." The last was the only chastisement he'd get from her and it was the worse for it. She'd matured into an amazing woman that was completely comfortable in her own skin.
"Dinner, yeah, it's just that D… the friend is staying with me for a bit, until he gets things figured out."
"Bring him for dinner then. Lavender won't mind."
"All right, I'll see if he'll want to." There was a sigh on the other end and then silence. "What is it?"
"Nothing, I'll see you tomorrow and we'll find a time for dinner." There was that uncomfortable silence again and then Parvati asked, "Bring Dennis, if you can, we haven't heard from him in awhile."
"I'll do what I can. Thanks, lass."
"Don't be such a stranger."
When she hung up, Seamus raked a hand through his hair and breathed a sigh of relief. His next call was to Dennis and he left a message asking to meet for lunch and passing on Parvati's request for dinner. After that, he called his mam and left a message that he was well, better than before and that he'd be asking about time off for a holiday home.
The last was to Dean's mum. Her voicemail picked up and he left a message, unsure of even why he was calling. "Missus Thomas, it's Seamus. Seamus Finnigan? Just wanted to let you know that Dean, err, that is, thanks for showing Dean the letters, appreciate it. I wanted to let you know that you shouldn't worry, he's here with me, not that that would stop you from worrying as you didn't exactly tell him about his past or anything, so obviously you were worried about something in his time with me but I wanted to just let you know because I know how it can be to worry over him and, Christ. Sorry about that, Missus Thomas, just wanted to let you know that he's all right and I know it's probably not what you're wanting but he has an appointment with one of our Healers and I… I just want him whole. He deserves it, doesn't he? To be whole? He doesn't know I've called but I didn't want you to worry and I've said that already, haven't I? Just, just know that I care about him too, he was my best mate before the rest and I just want to give him a chance. I'll keep you updated."
Once the calls were done, he stayed on the small balcony and watched the world walk around below him. The poor sods stuck hurrying to work on a Sunday, the children bounding along in front and behind their parents, the couples walking hand in hand, all of it would've caused his heart to ache even a week ago. Now, he just watched and laughed at the antics of one particularly rambunctious child.
When the child disappeared from sight, he went back into the flat, slipping through the window and grabbing whatever clothes didn't smell too horribly. After entering the kitchen, he saw the kettle on and grinned before pouring himself a cup. A quick check of the calendar gave him an idea of what they could do that day.
The shower shut off and when Dean came out, the scent of his soap wafted out. Seamus inhaled deeply as he called out, "Want to see what makes the Wizarding world fantastic?"
"Yeah, sure, you show me." Dean was shirtless, towelling off his hair as he walked into the kitchen. Seamus poured out some tea, tossed in a small bit of cream and added a pinch of sugar before handing it to Dean.
Dean froze as he sipped. To cover the awkwardness of the moment - such a little thing, preparing a cuppa just as someone liked it - Seamus dug through the papers on the countertop for the tickets he'd forgotten he had. There were at least fifteen but he only really needed two. Waving them, he explained, "Quidditch, mate. You'll love it."
As always, I'd love to hear what you thought.
Chapter 5
Author: wook77
Pairing:: Dean/Seamus (other slash and het pairings contained within)
Rating: PG (Eventual rating: Hard R to NC-17)
100quills prompt: 047. Teammates
Warnings: Canon compliant through DH. Pre-Epilogue. Additional Warnings at the beginning of Chapter 1.
Wordcount: Overall: ~70k This part: 4000
Summary: Four years ago, Dean Thomas died in the midst of a raid. Seamus saw it happen right in front of his eyes but seeing isn't believing and reality is in the eye of the beholder.
A/N: Many many thanks to nefernat for the beta job. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Chapter 3
Seamus didn't begrudge Dean the sleeping on his sofa bit. He didn't mind at all, it was just that he was curious how long it would last and if Dean would disappear as quickly as he'd appeared. Bracing himself, Seamus wandered out into the main room and saw Dean sprawled on the sofa, long arms twisted and hanging off the side and legs dangling over the edge. It didn't look comfortable in the least and Seamus shook his head as he walked past. He'd have to transfigure the sofa tonight. That is, if Dean stayed.
Fiddling with the kettle, he started tea and then rummaged for something in the cupboards. They were going to need food. As the water heated, he went to the main room and leaned on the doorframe and watched Dean as he slept. The small twitches in his face and hands brought back memories of running his fingers along them to still their motions. For such a still man when awake, Dean never stopped moving in his sleep. When Seamus had stilled his hands, Dean had moved his feet. When Seamus stilled his feet, he wiggled his toes. On and on it went, constant movement that almost always woke Seamus and sometimes drove him mad.
When Dean stirred, starting to wake as his right hand slapped himself across his forehead, Seamus went back into the kitchen and dug into the cupboards once more. There was a small box of biscuits in the back and he saw a few crackers as well. Poking his head into the refrigerator, he found some eggs and milk. After a careful sniff into the carton, he deemed the milk safe. There was enough there to make his mam's omelettes. Opening the drawer for a skillet, he took care to be as quiet as possible as he slid metal against metal.
"Morning." Dean's voice came from the doorway and Seamus turned and stared. Dean hadn't bothered to put a shirt on and Seamus's fingers itched to feel that flesh under his fingertips.
Dean, standing in the doorway, rubbed his hands up and down his chest. Seamus traced the path with his eyes. It was mesmerizing, the fluidity of that touch and Seamus remembered the light hearted moments when, as Dean arched back into the stretch, he'd poke Dean in the ribs and they'd laugh even as they chased one another around. Then there were the kisses that followed, playful nips or wet swipes of Dean's tongue. The kisses were the best part, even better than the feel of Dean's hands on his skin, rubbing up and down in a quest for those rare magical spots that had him losing control into laughter and need all swirled into one.
Then there were the mornings, as Dean scratched his chest, where Seamus would push Dean's hands away and do it himself. That smooth flesh under his hands would cause his fingertips to tingle. Those quiet mornings, soft touches and whispered greetings, were missed just as much as those loud, laughter filled mornings.
"Seamus?"
Seamus came back to himself and flushed. He'd been staring, tracing Dean's chest with his eyes as he relived the memories. "Yeah, sorry, hungry?"
He turned around quickly, not wanting to give up those memories just yet. It was hard, as he waited for the arms of his memory to swing around him, when the reality didn't mention the memory. Spreading his own arms wide, bracing himself against the countertop as he gripped it, his head hung low as he inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. The deep cleansing breaths helped centre him, helped him to recover his balance and his patience.
"You all right?" Dean's hand touched a shoulder blade and Seamus shuddered under the touch before flinching away.
"Hungry?" Seamus asked as he drew his arms in and fiddled with the eggs.
"Should I go?"
"No!" Seamus turned rapidly and found Dean even closer than he'd thought. "I just needed a minute. Just… give me a minute."
"Yeah, all right." Dean backed up and looked lost for a moment. "I'll just…"
"I've a confession to be making," he murmured into the awkward silence.
Dean stopped abruptly before turning.
"We were - " Seamus didn't have a chance to answer as Dean's mobile rang.
"I can ignore - " Dean started to say while Seamus said, "Go ahead and get it."
Fumbling in his denims, Dean pulled out the mobile and looked at the screen. "I have to take this."
"That's fine." But it wasn't fine, Seamus wanted to yell. He'd been about to pour his heart out, tell Dean what he'd really meant to Seamus, that they weren't just best mates, that they'd been so much more than that that Seamus hadn't ever had a word for it.
As Dean spoke to whomever was one the phone - and it sounded more like an argument than conversation - Seamus cracked the eggs and started to make the omelette. It was easier to cook than to think about his reaction. Dean was still arguing as Seamus flipped the omelette out of the pan and fixed the plates. As his table was barely large enough for one, Seamus grabbed his wand and enlarged it.
He'd forgotten that Dean was still leery of magic, a fact brought home to him when Dean's phone clattered to the ground. Not sure if he should be embarrassed for being himself or if he should have any other reaction, he ignored it all by choosing to sit at the table and start eating.
After bending to pick up his mobile, Dean snapped it closed and then came over to the table. "That was…"
"Yeah, that's magic for you, making tables bigger and freaking out the mates." Seamus ran a hand through his hair. "Look, if you're uncomfortable with it or whatever, I'll try to stop but I can't guarantee it. I use it too much and I'm used to me own ways anyway."
"I'm not… uncomfortable with it. It's just a surprise to watch it happen."
"Third year Charms, Professor Flitwick taught us how to do that. We, that is, all of us boys from the dorm, spent all night enlarging everything we could; tables, chairs, your blanket, Harry's trousers as they were so big anyway. Then Ron leans over and asks, 'wonder if this would work on our you-knows'. Nev, innocent bastard that he was, asks 'you know whats?' We were all laughing so hard that we forgot to do it. Next morning, Goyle, this dumber than a box of rocks arse, comes in to the Great Hall limping. Turns out he did try it. Only problem was that we hadn't learned how to shrink anything so he'd been like that since the day before. Fucking idiot hadn't gone to see Madam Pomfrey or anything, just kept enlarging it and enlarging it and…" Seamus couldn't continue telling the story as he was laughing so hard.
"You can do that? Enlarge it?" Dean goggled at Seamus as he laughed.
"Aye, shrink it, too."
"What happened to him? He still walking around like that?" Seamus laughed at Dean's question.
"Naw, Snape took him up to Madam Pomfrey and got him fixed."
"Have you done it?"
"Don't need to, of course. Wanna see? It's sounding like you're having more than enough problems with your girlfriend, though." The words popped out before Seamus could think about them.
Dean, instead of getting pissed off, simply laughed. And laughed. It was almost insulting with how much he was laughing. "That was my sister, Kerry. She wanted to know where I was as she just went to mum's and couldn't find me. Not sure I'm able to talk to her right now since she held the secret, same as mum and dad did. Hell, they all kept the secret from me." Dean picked up his fork and cut a bite but stopped to add, "I just want to know who I was, that's all. They can't understand that."
"Have you tried to fix it?" Seamus asked instead of what he wanted to say which was vitriolic enough towards his family for allowing him to think Dean was dead.
"Yeah, visited about a hundred doctors, had even more tests and no one could figure anything out." Dean stared at the wall in front of him. "Don't think there's anything that can be done."
"You haven't been to St. Mungo's yet so don't be giving up hope." And Seamus meant that he, himself, shouldn't be giving up hope either.
"St. Mungo's? Is that another hospit - " The phone rang again and Dean cursed under his breath. He silenced it and then looked back at Seamus. "Sister again."
"None of my business who it is." Seamus played with his food as he stared at his plate.
"All right, then. This St. Mungo's, is that another hospital? Haven't heard of it."
"Aye, it's a good place, they do wonders there. During the war…" Seamus cut himself off abruptly.
"War? What war?" Dean sounded confused.
"Not in the mood for politics this morning." Seamus picked up his plate and tossed it into the sink before walking back to the bedroom. Calmly shutting the door, he walked to the bed, sat on the edge and put his head in his hands. Christ's sake but he was torturing himself with this. He'd thought that Dean would just magically remember and then he wouldn't have to bring up the war, wouldn't have to bring up his own failures and lay them all out there on the table for Dean to see how very much Seamus had failed them. Best fucking mates and Seamus just left him there, alive and hurt, because he hadn't been able to find a pulse and he'd been too busy scrambling to look properly or even defend themselves.
The worst was that he'd done it himself, a quick offhand comment where he started to go on about how they'd gotten banged up on some of the missions and the Healers at St. Mungo's had done a good job fixing them and sending them right back out there. The war had gone on so much longer than it'd taken Harry to defeat Voldemort; it'd gone on for years after, spending their time searching out the renegade Death Eaters and the people preying on the Muggles and… and too many missions for him to think about.
He'd been so stupid to think that Dean would just remember, that there was some magic word that would make it all come back and if Seamus showed him enough art galleries or drawings or photographs, that everything would come swimming back because, dammit, he was Seamus and that was Dean and they were closer to each other than to their own families. Didn't matter what the Muggles had tried with Dean, Seamus knew Dean better and he'd be able to find that stupid fucking magic word to bring it all back. Remind him who he was and that'd be that, they'd be back together in no time.
The misery only expanded as he started to kick himself for giving up so quickly after he'd gotten Dean to realise that he wasn't crazy. Hell, Dean'd only been here for a couple of days. What did he do, though? He kicked himself that he'd been expecting something so fast and then he kicked himself for giving up and he was just so fucked up over this, so lost and confused and he just wanted Dean, his Dean, back.
Tugging at his hair with clenched fists, his head sunk lower towards his knees as his mind wandered through all those thoughts. He didn't hear the door open but he did feel the bed sink under the weight of Dean next to him.
"Bit of a slob, aren't you? Almost twisted my ankle on your trousers over there."
"Yeah, sorry." Seamus didn't look up. Instead, his hands twisted deeper into his hair and the sharp pain of the tug kept him grounded.
"I'm sorry for asking about the war. If you want me to go, it's… it's all right." Dean touched his arm and Seamus slowly pulled his hands out of his hair.
"It's not all right. It's just hard, hard to be here and to know that what we went through, you don't have a fucking clue about. You don't have a clue and I envy that." He hadn't even realised that was how he felt until he'd said it.
"Was it that bad?"
"That's one way of putting it. We don't talk about it, the ones of us that were there, right there on the front lines. We don't talk about it because if we do, it's real. If we just ignore it, just drink a pint and watch some footie, we're all right because we can pretend that it's a really realistic dream that we had. But then we go home and we're alone and it's not just a dream. So, yeah, you could say that it was bad. I'm just not ready to talk about that yet." Seamus looked up at Dean and saw how very close he was. "I'll tell you anything else but I don't want to talk about that yet."
"All right, yeah. It can't be easy to have me just reappear when you thought me dead all these years. I read the first letter you wrote to mum and…" Dean appeared so uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."
"For what? Not knowing who you are? Not your fault. I'm just a fucked up Mick is all, don't be apologising for what isn't your fault." Seamus raked his hands across his hair one more time.
"Maybe that St. Mungo's place could help. It's worth a try." Seamus could tell that Dean made the offer for Seamus and not for Dean.
"Aye, maybe." Seamus looked around the room and spotted the box of photographs and drawings that he hadn't shown Dean yet. It wasn't time yet, not quite, to show Dean what they'd been together. "Let's go do something, am sick of me flat."
"Like what?"
Seamus was at a loss. If it were a normal Saturday, one without Dean, he'd normally head to the pub, get a pint and watch some footie. When they'd been together Before, there'd been missions and reunions, hot sex and lazy afternoons spent talking. None of any of the scenarios fit very well in the current reality. Then, he saw his trainers lying in a heap on the floor and there was a pair of shorts next to them.
"You still play football?" Dean nodded slowly in response to Seamus's question. "I'm sure there'll be a pick-up game in the park."
"Yeah?" Seamus grinned and nodded. "All right, let's go. If not near you, I know of one by me."
"Brilliant."
As the afternoon passed, Seamus felt more and more comfortable with Dean as they passed back and forth and traded jibs with the other team. Seamus wasn't the quickest and certainly wasn't the best player, but the competitiveness, the defence of 'us against them' settled his nerves and he forgot, for an afternoon, that Dean wasn't the Dean from Before.
They laughed or offered a helping hand when one or the other fell and then both went straight back into the game. At the end of the afternoon, dirty and sweaty, they went to a pub with the rest of the lads they'd played with and Seamus felt normal.
"And did you see Seamus there swearing and yelling 'oi oi oi' like an arse? Christ, he must've had at least three blokes on him but he kept wanting the pass. What were you going to do, run between their legs?" Seamus tossed a rude gesture towards the bloke mocking his height.
"Next round's on you just for that, mate."
"I'm sure he makes up for his height in other ways… like cursing. How many times did you say 'fuck' this afternoon? Favourite of yours, isn't it?" Dean slapped him across the shoulder and then drank out of his pint.
"Oi, fucker, that's me lager there!" Seamus joined in the laughter at his expense as he realised that he'd used the word one more time. For spite, he reached out and grabbed Dean's pint. After taking a drink, he was tempted to spit it back in. Instead, he swallowed, made a face and then a jib about British ale.
Evening passed and Seamus figured out that he hadn't spent a day and night like this in more than four years. When the pub closed, all the blokes stumbled out with promises for next week's match and their own performances. As they walked, they lost companions until Dean and Seamus were the only ones left. Dean slung a companionable arm around Seamus's shoulders and they continued walking. Seamus leaned in to the embrace and felt complete and happy. He was quick to cross himself at the thought, sending a prayer of thanks that from the emotional rollercoaster of the morning, the day was ending on such a good note at night. They didn't speak and that was all right with him, he'd rather just have the sound of the street and the weight of Dean's arm.
When they reached the flat, Seamus transfigured the sofa into a bed and stumbled into his room before he could invite Dean to join him. It was enough that he still felt the weight of Dean’s arm over his shoulders and that memory soothed him to sleep and brought dreams of Before.
The next morning, Seamus woke early, even with the late night before. He had a few calls to make and he didn't want Dean to hear them. The first call was to Parvati and, expecting it to last a while, Seamus slipped out onto the small balcony outside and shut the window behind him.
"Hello?"
"That's all I get, a hello? No nice to talk to you as it's been forever and a day? No where the hell have you been? None of that at all?" Seamus teased and was gratified to hear Parvati's breathy laugh.
"Nice to talk to you as it's been forever and a day and where the hell have you been? Does that make you feel better?"
"Aye, that it does. I'm better," Seamus didn't continue as he didn't need to. Parvati would know what that meant. During the war, she'd found her niche and it had surprised almost everyone that it was in healing. She'd fix them up and send them back out only to fix them up again. More than the physical wounds, Parvati would help with the mental. She'd always be willing to listen and, when needed, offer advice or a kick to the arse to get a body moving again. After Dean had died, she'd worked to put Seamus back together and that was a debt he'd never be able to repay, though it was also one that she refused to acknowledge.
"That's good, real good." He heard the relief in her voice and his smile faded.
"I've a favour to be asking. One you won't be believing when you see but it's true."
"You've gone cryptic on me. Shall I divine what I think you mean from that or are you just going to ask?"
"I've a… friend that's been injured, doesn't have any memories after eleven. You think you might be able to help him?" Seamus stumbled over the request.
"When did you want to bring him in?" That casual acceptance was what Seamus had craved and counted on. They hadn't spoken in two years and Parvati was still willing to help him, let him sweep back into her life and upset it.
"Monday?"
"Sure, Seamus, that's fine. Make it around noon and I can take a later lunch. I'm booked in the morning, though. To repay me, you'll have to come to dinner. We've missed you." The last was the only chastisement he'd get from her and it was the worse for it. She'd matured into an amazing woman that was completely comfortable in her own skin.
"Dinner, yeah, it's just that D… the friend is staying with me for a bit, until he gets things figured out."
"Bring him for dinner then. Lavender won't mind."
"All right, I'll see if he'll want to." There was a sigh on the other end and then silence. "What is it?"
"Nothing, I'll see you tomorrow and we'll find a time for dinner." There was that uncomfortable silence again and then Parvati asked, "Bring Dennis, if you can, we haven't heard from him in awhile."
"I'll do what I can. Thanks, lass."
"Don't be such a stranger."
When she hung up, Seamus raked a hand through his hair and breathed a sigh of relief. His next call was to Dennis and he left a message asking to meet for lunch and passing on Parvati's request for dinner. After that, he called his mam and left a message that he was well, better than before and that he'd be asking about time off for a holiday home.
The last was to Dean's mum. Her voicemail picked up and he left a message, unsure of even why he was calling. "Missus Thomas, it's Seamus. Seamus Finnigan? Just wanted to let you know that Dean, err, that is, thanks for showing Dean the letters, appreciate it. I wanted to let you know that you shouldn't worry, he's here with me, not that that would stop you from worrying as you didn't exactly tell him about his past or anything, so obviously you were worried about something in his time with me but I wanted to just let you know because I know how it can be to worry over him and, Christ. Sorry about that, Missus Thomas, just wanted to let you know that he's all right and I know it's probably not what you're wanting but he has an appointment with one of our Healers and I… I just want him whole. He deserves it, doesn't he? To be whole? He doesn't know I've called but I didn't want you to worry and I've said that already, haven't I? Just, just know that I care about him too, he was my best mate before the rest and I just want to give him a chance. I'll keep you updated."
Once the calls were done, he stayed on the small balcony and watched the world walk around below him. The poor sods stuck hurrying to work on a Sunday, the children bounding along in front and behind their parents, the couples walking hand in hand, all of it would've caused his heart to ache even a week ago. Now, he just watched and laughed at the antics of one particularly rambunctious child.
When the child disappeared from sight, he went back into the flat, slipping through the window and grabbing whatever clothes didn't smell too horribly. After entering the kitchen, he saw the kettle on and grinned before pouring himself a cup. A quick check of the calendar gave him an idea of what they could do that day.
The shower shut off and when Dean came out, the scent of his soap wafted out. Seamus inhaled deeply as he called out, "Want to see what makes the Wizarding world fantastic?"
"Yeah, sure, you show me." Dean was shirtless, towelling off his hair as he walked into the kitchen. Seamus poured out some tea, tossed in a small bit of cream and added a pinch of sugar before handing it to Dean.
Dean froze as he sipped. To cover the awkwardness of the moment - such a little thing, preparing a cuppa just as someone liked it - Seamus dug through the papers on the countertop for the tickets he'd forgotten he had. There were at least fifteen but he only really needed two. Waving them, he explained, "Quidditch, mate. You'll love it."
As always, I'd love to hear what you thought.
Chapter 5