Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve

7:30 p.m.

The fire crackles before Seamus and he gazes into the falsely cheerful flames. He'd wanted Dean to apparate home, get here as soon as possible and no mucking around with strange Muggle vehicles, but Dean loves zipping around in the little VW his parents had given him after leaving Hogwarts and he knew they'd like to see him in it.

So he'd set off that morning to spend the day with them and do some last minute shopping. Seamus had been strictly forbidden from going because, Dean had said, his last present was still not ready.

He'd promised to leave the city by five o'clock so he'd be back at their flat for a late dinner at seven. Dean always kept his promises.

Turning to the window he stares down onto the street, gazes at the whirling snow blowing through the lamps. The blonde man scans every passing body, hoping to see the one he misses.

It's Christmas Eve Dean, where are you?

He's heard the news. Another attack in Muggle London, this time on a highway. The highway on which Dean ought to have been coming back from his parents'.

***

5:45 p.m.

"Silver Bells, Silver Bells,

It's Christmas time, in the city.

Ring-a-ling,

Here them . . .

"We interrupt our Christmas Eve broadcast to inform families of an unfolding development in the fight against darkness."

Seamus perked up. "Fight against darkness" was what the broadcasters always said when there was bad news. When the war was going well it was always "the war against the Dark Lord," but "fight against darkness" was so vague.

The Order had been expecting some sort of attack to disrupt the holiday season and Seamus wasn't really surprised it had come on the eve of Christmas.

"The Dark Lord's followers have destroyed a major Muggle thoroughfare in London, the A40/M Westway, and have brought holiday travel through the city to a standstill. Falling debris and attacks have claimed at least seven lives and there are several Muggles trapped in the area.

"Officials have advised that any wizards or witches in the area make certain that their families are safe and their homes secure before coming to help the Ministry Aurors who are on the scene. We at the WWN will be bringing you more news as it becomes available, but for now we return . . ."

Seamus tuned the radio out, stunned. The A40/M . . . Dean, are you ok?

***

7:45 p.m.

Dinner's getting cold, so Seamus turns away from the window and steps towards the kitchen. He quietly sets the oven to a low, warm temperature and puts in the serving dishes.

Standing up again he tugs on his sweater, pulling the sleeves down over his fingers. It's a large, fluffy thing which Dean made him get last month. He'd said it brought out the blue in Seamus' eyes.

Wandering back into the living room he adds another log to the crackling fire, wanting to keep the room warm and to make sure that if any news comes in he'll be able to get away quickly. If he's needed . . .

Settling back into a chair his eyes stray once more to window and the whirling, lonely snow outside.

***

6:30 p.m.

"No Seamus, I'm sorry. He left on time around 5:00."

Dean's mother's voice was calm and cultured, but Seamus could tell that she was as worried as he. There was just the faintest trace of a sniff from the ear piece.

"I'm sure he's fine," he said, wanting to believe it himself.

"Yes," came Mrs. Thomas' answer. "Maybe he took the Archway."

"Yeah, maybe." Dean hates the Archway, he never takes it.

"You'll let me know if . . ." she cut herself off immediately.

"I'll let you know when he comes home." Seamus managed to keep the hitch out of his voice by biting his tongue.

"I've got to go."

"Yeah. Um, good night." He dropped the receiver into its cradle and collapsed onto the couch, curling up into a tight ball and biting his lip to keep from crying.

He'll be alright. He has to be. I need him to be alright.

Seamus finally pulled himself to his feet and walked into the kitchen to make sure everything would be ready for Dean when he came home. He couldn't let himself think that maybe Dean wouldn't come home.

***

7:00 p.m.

"The Dark Lord's followers have left the scene, some captured and some fleeing before the fighters who responded to the Ministry's request for help. Now the clean up is beginning. The Muggle wounded are all being sent to the closest hospital and our defenders who need it are being discreetly apparated to St. Mungo's.

"I think we can consider tonight a win in the war against the Dark Lord. And now . . ."

Seamus snapped the radio off. An attack catching us completely off guard on Christmas Eve with at least seven dead. How is this a win? he asked himself.

They're sending people to St. Mungo's. Maybe I should go to work. But I need to be here when Dean comes home, or when he calls. But maybe he'll be calling from the hospital.

Pouring himself a glass of wine he walked over to the fireplace and decided to start a fire.

It's too cold in here. I'm so cold.

***

8:20 p.m.

The phone's ring catches him off guard and as he starts forward his elbow knocks the half-full wineglass to the floor. Seamus doesn't even notice as he yanked the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Seamus, Seamus it's Dean." Seamus' knees give way and he drops to the floor.

"Oh, thank god." It was just a whisper but Dean heard it.

"I'm alright Seamus, really. I swear."

"Where . . . where are you?"

"A pay phone. The doctors only just let me go . . ."

"Doctors?"

"I'm fine. Couple scrapes and a twisted wrist, but I'm ok."

"Come home Dean," was all he could say.

"I'm on my way."

"Don't be on your way. Be here."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Now come home."

The two men hang up and Seamus glances around the room. His eyes stop on the broken glass and the wine stain. It looks like blood, he thinks. Then the tears come, slipping quietly down his cheeks, and Dean is there, apparating straight into the living room and pulling him close.

They hold each other tight, whispering frantic words of love, comfort, and joy.

Finally, pulling back but not letting go, Seamus looks at his lover. Dean looks tired and dirty. There are some scratches on his face and a bruise is developing along his cheek. Dean blushes a little under the scrutiny. "Is there anything you need?" Seamus asks. "I've got food in the oven, or I could run a bath . . ."

"No, I'm alright now. It's Christmas Even and I've made it home at last."