Collared

Collared

It had taken the other boys in the dorm a while to get used to things once Seamus and Dean finally got together. As Ron put it, it wasn’t weird that they were together — everyone could see they were supposed to be together — it was just the way they went about it.

"It’s disconcerting," he told Dean one day as they were walking to class. "Seamus’ll be chatting with us, perfectly normally, then in you come and he practically apparates to your side."

Dean had shrugged, and opened his mouth to say something when Ron continued.

"The collar’s a little weird too, you know."

It wasn’t ostentatious, it wasn’t large and showy, it was a simple black velvet strip with no tie or obvious closure that had appeared around Seamus’ neck the morning after their last big fight, the ending of which no one had seen but everybody knew about. Seamus never took it off as far as anyone could tell, and the one time Harry had suggested he do so ("Really Seamus, why not just take it off when you’re going to classes? Everybody’s always staring at you.") Seamus had almost hit the other boy.

But a few months had passed and everyone eventually began to accept it. Seamus didn’t really act as though that much had changed — he still flirted outrageous with anything that sat still long enough, was still amazingly tactile with his friends, and when parties were held in the common room he was still the loudest and most rambunctious — but there was a difference. There was a difference in the way Dean watched his every move — no longer jealously, now there was an air of benign indulgence. There was a difference in the way Seamus moved — as though he knew he was being watched, as though he were almost putting on a show. And, of course, every now and then anyone watching would get to see the biggest difference.

***

They were throwing a party in the Common Room for the 7^th years who would be leaving in a few weeks. Ron had even gotten the twins to cater, both with their own stock and with a few bottles they’d picked up from Rosmerta — who almost certainly knew what they were going to be used for and had sold them to Fred with a wink. Everyone had been in high spirits, especially Parvati who’d broken up with her boyfriend in Ravenclaw earlier in the week and seemed to be making up for lost time.

"Come on Seamus, dance with me?"

"Of course, oh moon of my delight," he’d answered with a grin, emptying his glass of firewhiskey and letting her tug him out onto the makeshift dance floor.

It probably would have gone like every other party that had been thrown over the years if Parvati hadn’t been quite so pushy. She told Lavender later that she’d been bored and lonely and had too much to drink, and Lavender had certainly sympathized that it was easy to get pulled into Seamus’ charm, and both girls had sighed, eyes glazing as they remembered the scene which had followed.

There had, technically, still been space between Parvati and Seamus as they danced when Dean stepped onto the dance floor, but most of that space was filled with clothing and a few molecules of air. Seamus had twisted his arms up into the air and was bringing them down along Parvati’s sides when suddenly Dean’s hands were there, sliding along his arms and pushing them back into the air.

In one hand Dean captured both of Seamus’ wrists above his head and let his other arm snake around Seamus’ waist, pulling the shorter boy back against him. Seamus moved without protest, leaning against Dean’s chest and letting his head fall back onto Dean’s shoulder.

"Mine."

Parvati heard Dean whisper into Seamus’ ear and heard the answering whimper as the two of them began to dance. She later admitted to Lavender that the only reason she called it ‘dancing’ was because nice girls didn’t talk about it when their House mates had sex standing up in the middle of the Common Room — although nice girls certainly did take advantage of the front row view to store up enough fantasy material to last for years.

She’d watched as the two of them ground against each other, Seamus’ arms still stretched above his head as Dean’s free arm moved along his chest. She’d stared, breath catching in her throat, as Dean slowly undid the buttons of Seamus’ shirt, hand slipping in to tease at his nipples, and it was all she could do not to moan out loud as he began half biting half kissing his way down Seamus’ neck, eyes locked with Parvati’s. It was the most erotic thing she had ever seen.

And as the music ended Dean said again, "Mine," this time loud enough that anyone standing near them could hear it, and nice girls really didn’t talk about the quiet gasp and the slowly spreading wet stain that had appeared on Seamus’ trousers.

***

"The collar’s a little weird too, you know."

Dean had just shrugged at Ron, and smiled enigmatically. "It may be weird, but it works for us."