Friendship, Loyalty, And Love

Friendship, Loyalty, and Love

Chapter 2:

You always have a choice

The voices of his roommates slowly filtered into Dean's sleepy mind.

" . . . When do . . . expect . . .attack?" That slightly puzzled tone was Ron Weasley, the youngest son of the very large Weasley family.

"Don't know but . . . bets on. . . involving Mal. . ." The more confidant voice of Harry Potter, the wizarding world's youngest hero, was a little easier to make out than his best friend, but that might just be because Dean was more awake.

"Well, sure. That's . . . rotten the lot of them. But I was . . . when?" As Dean continued to lose his fight to ignore his roommates he opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling of his four poster bed. He was awake and, at this point, he might as well get up, no matter what the time. If Harry and Ron were up they weren't going to shut up until they left.

"It's bound to be the worst possible time, whenever it is," Harry answered.

"Guys," Dean stuck his head out from behind the hangings. "What time is it?"

"Um," Ron glanced across. "Seamus' clock says he's home and not over sleeping, so it can't be that late."

Harry snorted at his friend, then glanced at the watch lying on his bedstead. "It's almost six thirty, Dean."

"Do I even want to know what you guys are doing up at six thirty on a Saturday?" Dean gave them a mock scowl before climbing out of bed and grabbing a pair of jeans from his trunk.

"We were just talking, that's all." Ron's answer was sufficiently vague to earn him a weird look from Dean, but a glance at Harry gave him the impression that he'd be better off not asking what they were talking about. He didn't really want to get involved in whatever trouble the dream team was going to end up in this year.

"Alright then, but shouldn't you guys be 'just talking' somewhere other than where the rest of us are sleeping?" Dean asked them as he changed out of his PJs, his voice becoming muffled as he pulled on a new shirt.

"Yeah, honestly, guys." Neville Longbottom's yawning face appeared at the head of his bed.

"Sorry. We didn't mean to wake you up. But we can't have been being that loud." Harry grinned at his three wakeful roommates. "Seamus hasn't woken up yet."

Dean grinned. "That's not saying much, Harry, and you know it. Seamus could sleep through a twenty-one gun salute."

"A what?" Ron asked, while Harry began to laugh.

"It's six-bloody-thirty in the morning!" Their fifth roommate's voice erupted from his bed. "There had better bloody well be a dark wizard in here trying to kill one of you." The body of Seamus Finnigan soon followed his voice as he bounced out of bed to figure out who it was who had awoken him.

"Only if you count Neville's breath," Ron told him, while Harry snickered.

"Hey!" Neville yelled and threw a pillow at the redhead, who dodged and let the pillow hit Harry, whose bed they were sitting on. Harry tried to retaliate but, whether because he was still laughing or because he hadn't put his glasses on yet, he missed rather significantly.

"Oh, that's it!" Seamus yelled and, grabbing up his pillow and Harry's, he launched himself at the bed Harry and Ron were sitting on.

At two to one odds Seamus was slightly overmatched, especially once Harry had wrestled control of his pillow away from him. Never one to be left out, especially when a friend needed him, Dean snatched his own pillow and rushed to Seamus' aid.

Neville soon joined in and the fight was well underway when the door to the dormitory crashed open. In the doorway Ron's two older brothers, Fred and George were standing, looking fairly annoyed. They took stock of the situation, then began to glower at the five boys. "Look," one of them began.

"It's not that we don't appreciate the need for a good pillow beating every now and then," the other continued.

"But honestly, guys, the rest of the house is trying to sleep." the first finished.

"Fred," Ron said. "I never thought I'd hear the day you'd be in favor of not playing so that others could sleep."

"Well," said the first twin, who was apparently Fred. "Normally I'd agree, have your fun and the rest of them be damned . . ."

"But not when it's us!" George finished. "If you guys have this much energy, take it outside."

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "The weather won't be this nice for much longer."

Dean had to admit the twins had a point. The heat of high summer had died down into a wonderful warm fall, and since classes had only started a few weeks ago the guys actually had the time to play around with.

Seamus apparently agreed, because he began to change into some normal clothes and asked Dean, "What do you think? Want to go play football on the pitch."

Dean was rather amazed at this. He had finally managed last year to get Seamus to try the Muggle game but had been under the impression that his friend thought it a bit dull. "Yeah, absolutely. How about it, guys?" he asked, turning to the other three. "Willing to come out and play?"

"Sure," Harry replied, and Neville nodded at them as he started getting dressed. Dean also grabbed up his sketchbook and a couple of his schoolbooks to stuff into his backpack so that when the game ended he could work out in the sun.

Ron's response was less than enthusiastic. "Why football, why not Quidditch?"

"Oh, come on, Ron, don't be such a duffer," Seamus teased. "I want to run around and get worked up. Or would you rather I got worked up in a less wholesome, G-rated fashion? Do you think Ginny's awake?"

Ron growled at Seamus, who's innocent flirtation with the youngest Weasley really upset her over protective brother, although Fred and George couldn't help but laugh at Ron's over reaction. "Have fun, guys," George said.

"And keep it quiet till your outside," Fred added as they turned to go back to the seventh year's dorm.

They actually managed to follow this command reasonably well, although by the time they got down to the Entrance Hall they were already racing each other and annoying Ms. Norris as they thundered through.

Outside Dean dropped his football and began to dribble it down to the Quidditch pitch, successfully guarding it from Seamus, although not from the more experienced Harry. Once at the pitch they set up a goal section and began shooting, keeping individual points, with Neville as a surprisingly adept goalie.

After about an hour enough other students had come out to enjoy the weather that they had actually managed to form up two full teams, with Justin Finch-Fletchley as the opposing goalie and the twins on his side.

The game looked like it might continue for quite some time, but Dean was beginning to get kind of tired and had seen Ginny and her friend Colin come out to sit on the grass relatively near to where he had dropped his backpack. He bowed out of the game, letting one of the third year Hufflepuffs who had been watching take his spot, then went over to sit with the two forth years.

"Hey, Ginny, can you do me a favor?" Dean asked.

"Depends on the favor, doesn't it?" The red head grinned at him.

"Would you model for me?"

Colin gave a little snort. "Honestly, Dean, that's got to be the world's most over used pick up line."

"No," Dean answered, "seriously, Gin. I've got a lot of sketches of the guys since they're always around, but I can't get a good feel for the female form."

"See there," Colin said. "Now that's a pick up. 'I need to get a feel for the female form.'"

"Stop it, Colin," Ginny said with a grin. "What exactly do you want me to do, Dean?"

"Just carry on with what you were doing. Making you hold some stupid pose wouldn't get me anywhere. I'm just going to be randomly sketching you."

"Sure," Ginny smiled at him. "But what if what I was going to do was get up and leave?"

"Well, do you mind if we make this an open offer?" Seeing Ginny's puzzled look he tried to explain. "Basically, would you mind if I just sketched you when I get the opportunity?"

"You mean like, at dinner, or in the common room?"

"Exactly. Then I can get a variety of different poses and get a better idea of what I'm doing. Since I can't exactly take art classes here I have to teach myself things about form, color, shape, and so on."

Ginny looked a little confused at this, but Colin seemed to be really enthusiastic. "I know what you mean," he said. "A lot of the same properties get used in photography, but I can only study it when I'm at home, or on my own."

Ginny smiled at the two boys, then said to Dean. "Sure, I don't mind being randomly sketched. But I didn't know you asked people to be models. I've seen you sketching some of the others."

Dean blushed at this. "Ah, no. Actually, this is the first time I've bothered to ask. It's just . . ." he trailed off.

"What?"

"I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I mean, if someone started staring at me and making drawings of me all the time I might start to think that . . ." Dean trailed off.

"You didn't want me to think you had a crush on me?" Ginny couldn't help the little giggle in her tone.

"Well, yeah."

"That's so sweet of you, Dean!" and she reached over and gave him a hug. "Most guys," and here she shot a look at Colin, "don't even bother to think about a girls feelings when they're doing things with or to a girl, let alone ask or try to protect them."

"Hey!" Colin protested. "I think about your feelings a lot."

"Asking me if I'm sick doesn't count," she shot back.

Dean grinned at them, then pulled out his pencils to draw the two of them. If he could just capture the energy of their bickering, the flash in her eyes, the quickness of his movements. With his sketchbook out he entered a little world of his own.

***

Later, after Ginny had gone back to the castle to get some work done, Dean looked around for another subject. His eyes turned to the field where the game was still going strong, and were caught by a flash of gold. There was Seamus, his sandy blonde hair shining in the sun, his skin glistening, his smile bright. Dean began to sketch again, trying to get the vibrancy of his best friend down on the inadequate medium of paper.

Drawing Seamus was always interesting. The boy never, ever, ever stopped moving. Even when he was dozing in a chair in the common room there was an inherent motion to him, which Dean found fascinating. And yet, he couldn't help but hope that someday he'd get a chance to sketch Seamus when he was being still. Surely he must stop sometime, Dean thought. Although, if not when he's asleep then I don't know when. In the meantime, however, here were another two pages full of the motion and life of Seamus. Seamus running headlong down the field. Seamus bouncing the ball of his head. Seamus once again forgetting the no-contact nature of the game and tackling one of the Weasleys.

After filling a third page with quick drawings Dean shut his sketchbook and pulled out his transfiguration text, hoping to get some work done. But a shout from the field attracted his attention and he looked up, to once again find his roommate and best friend among the players. He sat there and watched for almost ten minutes before giving it up as a lost cause. Dean tossed the book to the grass and ran back to the field, retaking the position he had relinquished less than an hour ago. As he moved full tilt into the game he thought once again, What would I have to do to get him to be still. And, less coherently, If I asked, would he be still for me?

***

The game ended at lunchtime as everyone streamed back into the castle to eat. The boys at the Gryffindor table seemed to be trying to set new noise pollution records, and Seamus more than most. He was bouncing all over, holding three different conversations at once and being a general nuisance. Hermione, who had come down to watch the end of the game and then berate her two best friends for not doing their work, kept shooting Seamus looks and telling him to be quiet.

"Oh, honestly, Seamus!" the girl finally erupted. "Can't you sit down and eat lunch like a normal person?"

"Nope," he answered cheekily.

"I am ordering you as a prefect to . . ." she began, but Dean interrupted her.

"Seamus, come here."

"What's up?" he yelled from half way down the table.

"No, come here, Seamus." Dean said again.

Seamus got up and walked down to where Dean was sitting. Dean moved over a bit and the Irish boy dropped onto the bench next to him. "What can I do for you?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"Here," The taller boy handed over a plate of sandwiches. "You've been running around all morning, and you didn't get breakfast, right? Eat!"

"But . . ." Seamus started.

"No. No talking. Eat."

And to the surprise of almost everyone, Seamus did. By no means did he sit quietly, but the noise level at the table dropped down to a quiet and manageable roar and Hermione sat back in astonishment, then returned to her conversation with Harry and Ron. Dean heard occasional snatches of their talk, things having to do with strange letters, an attack in some small town somewhere, and something to do with a guy named Wormtail, but he just chalked it up to the dream team trying to save the world again and continued with his meal.

Lunch finished up, and Seamus made to get up from the table and head back to the dorm, but was stopped by Dean. "You want to go study out on the lawn?" he asked.

Seamus grinned. "Absolutely!" he said. "Left my books upstairs though."

"I've got mine, we can share."

The two of them walked outside and settled down on the grass. Dean pulled out the transfiguration text he had failed to read earlier, then noticed Seamus was staring at him.

"What's up?" he asked.

"You know, you could have just asked me to be quiet at lunch. You didn't have to try and distract me."

Dean snorted. "Right, and because I asked you'd have just shut up? Ha. Besides, that's not why I did it. You hadn't eaten anything and I didn't want to have to listen to you complain later." Dean was smiling at Seamus, but stopped when he noticed his friend's serious face.

"Am I really that obnoxious?" Seamus asked.

"What? Where'd that come from?"

"Really, Dean, do I annoy you?"

Dean smiled at his worried friend. "No more than anyone else, and significantly less than most." But seeing that Seamus wanted a serious answer he sighed. "No, Seamus. I think you're fantastic. Life wouldn't be the same without you bouncing off the walls and annoying people like Hermione, who, you have to admit, takes life way to seriously."

Seamus grinned and sat back relieved, picking up the textbook and starting to look through it. Now Dean was a little curious. "Is that why you sat down and ate? You thought I was annoyed with you?"

"'Course not," Seamus answered, distracted by the notes he had started to make. "I did it because you asked."

Dean thought about this for a bit, but decided his friend was too complicated to figure out in a day and that the strange emphasis in Seamus' words might not mean anything.

***

Seamus knew he was dreaming; the world had that bizarre, unreal feeling that went with dreams. He just couldn't figure out what the dream meant.

There was Dean, his best friend, over on the other side of the room, standing and watching him. Leaning against the wall, looking cool and collected, the taller boy was staring straight at Seamus, in the kind of unnerving but also kind of pleasant way he had when he was sketching something. The piercing gaze that tried to take in and understand absolutely everything about it's subject. On the other side of the room, sitting together and seeming completely absorbed in each other, were Ron and Hermione. Seamus was fairly sure that, although in the waking world he had seen the two of them together more times than he could count, he had never seen them more together than they were in the dream.

Behind Seamus came a voice he recognized as Harry's. "You know, you have a choice."

"What do you mean?" Seamus asked, and turned to see his famous roommate standing behind him.

"There's always a choice. We're all coming up to the point where we have to make some important ones, but the thing you need to remember is that you've still got a choice."

"I don't know what you mean, Harry. A choice about what?"

Now Ginny was standing in the room, over near where Hermione and Ron were sitting. She smiled at him and started to lift a hand as though to beckon him over. At that moment Dean spoke. "Seamus, come here." It was the same tone that he had used in the Great Hall during lunch a few weeks ago and suddenly Seamus thought he knew what Harry meant. He certainly didn't have to do anything Dean told him to do, but he chose to, because it was Dean.

Seamus gave Ginny a little smile, then turned away from her, walking over to where Dean was leaning against the wall. He walked all the way till he was standing directly in front of his tall friend, then leaned up and kissed him.

***

"WHAT?" Seamus' yell woke all four of his roommates from their sleep. Dean was the first one across the room to where his friend had fallen out of bed.

"Seamus, are you ok?" he asked.

Seamus Finnigan looked up at his best friend, saw the concern in his eyes, those dark eyes that watched him levelly from across the dinner table, or scrutinized him over a sketchbook. He looked into those eyes and felt the pit of his stomach drop away from him.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a dream."

"A nightmare?" Harry asked quietly. In the Gryffindor dorm Harry didn't exactly have a monopoly on bad dreams but his tended to be the most spectacular, and it was rare for Seamus to be upset enough by his dreams to wake the rest of them.

"Um, no. Not a nightmare. No. Just, just a dream." Seamus was a little incoherent, and his roommates were starting to get a little worried.

"Here, Seamus, let's get you back to bed," Dean offered a hand to haul him out of the pile of blankets on the floor. Seamus took it, but when Dean pulled him up he realized they were standing as close together as they had in his dream and he took in a deep breath.

"Right. Bed. Um, yeah."

Dean looked at him a little worriedly, then laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Seamus," he said quietly. "Are you sure you're ok?"

Tackling him onto the floor or pulling him onto my bed are NOT productive responses. Seamus yelled in his head, then looked up at Dean who was taken back by the look in Seamus' eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a weird dream, that's all. I'm going back to sleep."

And Seamus turned to his bed to put his fallen blankets back on it. The other three went back to their beds, and Dean turned to go as well when Seamus' hand grabbed his wrist. He looked back and was dazzled by his friend's smile. "Thanks for being concerned," Seamus said.

"Of... of course," Dean stuttered. "What else are friends for?"

Dean said good night, then returned to his bed where he grabbed his sketchbook and tried to capture the light that had shown in Seamus' eyes, and the brightness that was his smile. He had no idea what it was about his friend's look that had transfixed him, but he knew he wanted to be able to see it again, to capture it on paper. When he finally went back to sleep Seamus' bright blue eyes danced at Dean through his dreams.