Rating:
PG-13
House:
Astronomy Tower
Ships:
Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnigan
Characters:
Dean Thomas Seamus Finnigan
Genres:
Angst Romance
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Stats:
Published: 06/19/2006
Updated: 06/19/2006
Words: 2,655
Chapters: 1
Hits: 1,004

Without A Single Glance Back

kaalee

Story Summary:
A story in which Dean is selectively clueless and Seamus tries to ignore things that he knows are there. [HBP compliant] QUOTE: Really, though, there are three things that Seamus knows: how to gut a fish in less than a minute, the Kenmare Kestrals' plane defence, and Dean Thomas. Except, he's starting to suspect he doesn't really know one of them anymore.

Chapter 01

Posted:
06/19/2006
Hits:
1,004


::



Seamus lies in bed with the sheets pushed down around his hips and too many thoughts on his mind. It's too bloody stuffy to think - living at the top of a tower makes for very little air circulation when you've been instructed to keep the windows shut.

Plus, McGonagall would have their balls on a platter if they disobeyed her.

Harry and Ron's whispers drift toward him and Seamus stares up at the ceiling, wondering when everything became so complicated...

One of his mam's friends had once used "inseparable" to describe him and Dean after the third time she'd come over and found the two of them tangled on the floor in an impromptu wrestling match. Seamus had just laughed.

He'd only ever heard that expression used before to describe his older sister, Siobhan. She had had a boyfriend for going on seven months and every time Seamus saw them, their lips were glued together, their eyes were closed, and Seamus could not fathom how Declan had figured out how to get his hand under Siobhan's shirt without his mam noticing.

It had always made him feel... weird.

He'd given Dean a look after Mrs. Kilburn called them that. Because if that was inseparable? Well, that was a strange word to describe
them.

Sighing now, Seamus thinks that people throw words around like rubbish when they just want to say something clever. He hates that. He's never been one to talk - everyone knows that Seamus Finnigan can't keep his bloody mouth shut - but at least he doesn't make up shit just to sound like he knows what he's talking about.

Really, though, there are three things that Seamus knows: how to gut a fish in less than a minute, the Kenmare Kestrals' plane defence, and Dean Thomas. Except, he's starting to suspect he doesn't really know one of them anymore.

Neville snores and Seamus's thoughts switch over immediately, like a train that has hit a triangle and suddenly heads in a new direction. Neville used to say SeamusandDean, all run together in one word and Seamus had gotten so used to it over the years that he said it once over the summer to his mam who said, "What are you talkin' about, son?"

Seamus had laughed and said, "Dean, mam. You know 'im. MeandDean." And he said it all run together like Neville had.

It had sounded nice that way, too.

Gritting his teeth, Seamus wills his mind to shut up and let him sleep. So, he turns and pulls the pillow over his head to keep his mind from running so quickly, and ignores the sight of Dean's empty bed.

For about the billionth time.

::



"Why did it take you so long under the sorting hat first year?" Dean asks him at breakfast, trying to make conversation even when Seamus knows that Ginny's got her hand on his knee under the table. "Was it making a decision between the different houses?"

"Nah," Seamus said, pouring a bit of juice and drinking it down. "I asked if it sang the same song every year and why did it smell like moldy apples when it lived in a school that taught magic." Dean nods absently and Seamus doesn't say, You know this story, you've heard it, you know it isn't true, why do you keep asking? He doesn't even envy Ginny, because Dean has three or four new warts on his thumb and Seamus can't imagine what those would feel like on your skin.

Disgusting, probably.

::



So many odd things have happened over the years that everyone seems to have stopped finding them outlandish. In Charms, they're all working on colour-changing charms and no one even notices when Neville turns Flitwick's beard puce; even Flitwick doesn't seem to notice.

Seamus snorts and looks over at Dean to ask to what colour he should surreptitiously change Flitwick's hair that'll clash the most - which Dean would know, being the artist. But Dean's frowning down at his warts, trying to shrink them with a textile shrinking charm that Seamus knows won't ever work.

He wants to shake Dean and say, Tergum reducto! Why don't you pay attention? But he doesn't. He just sighs and breathes the acrid air that seems to cling to his robes nowadays like sweat.

::



Fourth year, when Seamus had taken Dean's bet and asked Lavender Brown to the Yule Ball, neither of them thought she'd say yes. It was a surprise to both of them, and Seamus spent the next few days crowing about his pile of Chocolate Frogs and the fact that Dean was going to make his bed for the next month.

It hadn't occurred to him that he would actually have to spend time with her at the Ball, until the night of.

After they'd got dressed and gone to the common room, Lavender had linked her arm through his and looked at him with a wide smile. Dean had cocked his head and given him a strange look as they were walking away. Seamus almost felt as though he was leaving to go to an execution or something.

It was bloody weird.

After the Yule Ball, when Dean had been unable to look at him normally for days, Seamus had wondered if having someone make his bed for a month wasn't so great after all.

::



In the odd weather of changing seasons during fifth year, everyone in Gryffindor tower had got sick of staying indoors and were starting to go a bit stir-crazy.

Naturally, the Weasley twins suggested Spin the Bottle and a good lot of them agreed to play. Everyone brought stores of sweets to stuff themselves silly as they played, and everyone laughed whenever someone had to snog someone else. Seamus had thought it was quite hysterical, and a much better way of passing the time than doing homework.

When he was about to spin, Seamus suddenly had a thought. "What if the bottle points to a-" he froze when the bottle came to rest pointing across the circle.

Exactly at Dean.

"Gotta kiss him, mate," Fred laughed, throwing up several Bertie Bott's beans and hitting them with an Impedimenta charm so he could catch them all in his mouth, "Those are the rules."

"But-" Seamus said immediately, seeing it all play out in his mind in horrendous, vivid detail, "No one said anything about..."

He shut up when he saw George shake his head and roll his eyes at Fred. One of the sixth years stifled a yawn and Seamus could see no other way out.

Swallowing, Seamus nodded and plastered a grin on his face even as his stomach dropped.

The lights were bright around him as he stepped across the wide circle. Catcalls felt like they were echoing inside his mind, speeding his heart and drying his mouth. Swallowing, Seamus chanced a glance up and caught Dean's eyelashes fluttering rapidly. He thought, I'm really going to do this. Kiss a bloke in front of everyone else.

As he kneeled in front of Dean, staring at a stain on the wall somewhere behind Dean's head, Seamus felt a jolt of courage and looked up to meet Dean's eyes. They'd stared at each other for a moment before Seamus smiled weakly, licking his lips and starting to move closer.

"This is a stupid game," Dean had said, the muscles in his neck taut and obvious. He stood up and walked out of the common room without a single glance back.

A week after that, Dean was going out with Ginny Weasley.

::



The strange thing is, it's been months now, and no one else seems to notice that Seamus is the odd one out. Even Dean. Seamus can't tell if Dean really doesn't see that things have shifted between them, but he doesn't really know how to bring it up.

Dean still sneaks into Seamus's bed on Thursday nights to share the small vials of whiskey that Siobhan always sends.

Still, everything is different. Everything.

::



Seamus has taken to wandering around the castle, examining the different portraits that fill the walls. He isn't actually learning anything from them, but they sure are interesting.

And he's finding the most fascinating things around the castle.

::



The northwest staircase by the Arithmancy classroom has given him endless angst over the years and today is no different. It started to change as he stepped onto it and in his attempt to outthink it by stepping off on the third corridor, he ends up hopelessly lost and standing under a portrait that whispers helpful things to him like, "A stitch in time saves nine," and "Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

He steps down the corridor after scowling back at it and hissing, "Lady? Might want to get a new pair of glasses." Looking cautiously around, he wonders if his mother may have had a point when she shrieked at him this summer to cut his blasted hair. He's a bit lost in thought as he walks; his mind runs over some of the more obvious routes to find his way back. Then he sees them.

Sees them.

Fucking sees them.

Dean is leaning up against the marbled stone of the wall with his hands on Ginny's waist. The only sounds are slippery near-smacks and a quiet sigh that Seamus can't identify as male or female. And he knows, knows, that he shouldn't stand there gaping because they might notice or Filch might come by or someone might walk past and call his name then they would know he was there and that would be the worst thing ever.

But his feet are heavy. His trainers have lead soles and the world suddenly feels as though it's underwater. The feeling is familiar, like the pond behind his cousin Fergus's house - still, silent, and slow. He tries to lift one of his feet, but his knee locks and won't listen to the move it, move it, move it! that one side of his brain is shooting at him. He tries to slide one foot backward but a movement in the couple in front of him startles him and he doesn't move.

Ginny stands on her tiptoes and he sees Dean's fingers clench around the fabric of her raised jumper. Seamus freezes because he hears Dean moan - a deep, throaty sound that he can feel in his ribs. He knows that moan. He knows what it feels like to need to curl your fingers in the sheets against the exquisite pleasure that rocks through you when you're touching and panting and there, there, ohmygod, just there.

He doesn't mean to watch.

But, well, he does.

::



Then he has to act all bloody normal when he sees Dean at supper; as though he hadn't just heard the way Dean whimpers when Ginny sucks under his earlobe and her hand disappears between their bodies.

As though he didn't see her pull away and see the sheen of disappointment-laced anger on Dean's face before he trains his countenance to one of resignation and nods when she whispers something to him that Seamus can't hear.

As though he hadn't hidden behind a tapestry when they started for the Great Hall and watched Dean follow Ginny silently with a suppressed sigh.

As though he hasn't noticed that Dean's eyes are so damn hollow nowadays.

::



One night he wakes and pads across the floor to the loo. When he gets back in bed, he sees Dean sitting up in bed, his head bedded in his knees, staring out the window.

"Dean?" he hisses. "You alright?"

Dean doesn't turn, doesn't speak, but nods after a long minute.

Seamus thinks that might be enough.

::



But over the next few weeks, he watches.

He watches the Quidditch roster change again; he watches Dean start to find himself again - almost.

When Dean tells him he and Ginny broke up, Seamus just nods and pulls out a second vial of whiskey he'd been saving for a special occasion. They get half-drunk and make up stories about everything they can think of and fall asleep tangled across Seamus's bed like they used to.

Seamus tries not to think about too much, actually. If he did, he'd probably go insane with doubt or insecurity.

Though, the air doesn't feel quite so heavy anymore.

::



During the celebratory Quidditch party, they're busy discussing how to spike the punch when Harry walks in amidst applause and pulls Ginny Weasley against him for a deliberate, clumsy kiss.

There's a sudden hush in the Common Room before it erupts into whispers and cheers.

"I thought Ginny was going out with Dean," someone whispers behind them.

"Course not," another voice says knowingly. "Dean fancies Seamus. That's why they broke up."

Dean looks over at him, stricken, and Seamus feels a sharp pain as a piece of flying broken glass lodges in his skin.

::



"Don't hate me," Seamus hears later, awakening to find Dean standing awkwardly outside his bed hangings.

"Hate you?" Seamus says incredulously. "I-" He sits up and scoots over, pulling the bed hangings aside and looking at Dean nervously. "Dean. I don't hate you."

::



Four hours later, they're still talking, and Seamus can't remember the last time he's felt this good.

They haven't even broken into the whiskey vials.

Dean gets up to go to the loo with a grin and tells Seamus not to fall asleep on him while he's gone. Seamus can feel the distance while Dean is gone, and he's acutely aware that something new has shifted between them.

When Dean returns, Seamus thinks wild hippogriffs would have to keep them apart, and suddenly the distance is gone. They're kissing hard and fast, crushing lips together and ignoring (or loving) the sting of haphazard stubble.

Seamus can't think but to gasp for air when he can.

::



Seamus gasps raggedly and pulls Dean against him, their bodies wet and sticky and making the strangest sounds when they move against each other. He worries that there's no going back now, that if Dean is going to somehow pull away after this or things are going to get weird again, he might as well stop. Because in all of his life, only four things have ever felt this right, and most of them involved Dean. He chokes back a half-sob when he realizes what he's just thought.

Dean pulls back for a moment and smiles at him. The early morning light breaks through the curtains at that moment, brightening the smile and Seamus sucks his breath as an electric shock of realization jolts through him. This is... right.

It's the sort of smile that everyone sees, but not everyone gets. It's a smile that could be turned into currency or marketed for peace. Someone's probably attempted to capture something like it through Dark Curses, but this transcends explanation, escapes careful, scientific detailing and Seamus starts to think that he might just be the luckiest person ever.

Dean grunts above him and then, suddenly, he's no longer thinking. It's just them and this and nothing else matters.

Because it really doesn't.

::



Seamus is late to breakfast the next morning, for the first time in years, and he sits down across from Dean with a wink and a crooked smile.

Dean's eyes are shining again and Seamus thinks, maybe - maybe - there just might be something to this.

Seamus plows through his food and gets up to retrieve his books for class. He turns back when Dean calls his name, grinning and watching Ginny cock her head as Dean leaps off the bench. Dean grabs his own satchel and heads toward Seamus; he punches him in the shoulder and they walk out of the Great Hall.

Without a single glance back.

::



~thank you so much for reading! ♥