Three Words
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Dean shuffled awkwardly after the line of his fellow first-years into the Gryffindor common room and parted to follow the boys up the staircase to the dormitories. Hogwarts was dauntingly huge, and it came as a great relief when he walked into his welcoming, cosy dormitory, filled with five magnificent four-poster beds. Two other boys were already sat in the dormitory, one was tall and lanky with flaming red hair, and he was talking animatedly to a skinny dark haired boy with glasses that looked very nervous.
Dean said a mumbled "hello" to them and made his way across the dormitory to find his bed. He glanced at the initials engraved on the trunks that sat at the foot of each four-poster; 'H. P', 'R. W', 'N. L', 'S. F', and finally his own, 'D. T'. Dean sat down heavily on the bed that held his trunk and pulled off his scarf, leaning back into the squashy pillows; he was exhausted.
The dormitory door clicked open and he glanced up in time to see a tall, sandy-haired boy enter the room. Dean smiled awkwardly at him and felt a strange tingle down his spine when the boy smiled back. Dean passed it off as nerves and cursed himself for it, converting his shy smile into what he hoped was a more confident one. The sandy-haired boy didn't seem to be having trouble with nerves at all.
"Hi," he said brightly, crossing the room to shake Dean's hand. The boys' fingers were warm and his grip was strong. "I'm Seamus, Seamus Finnigan."
"Dean Thomas," Dean replied.
Seamus smiled and let go of Dean's hand, then made his way over to the other boys to introduce himself to them. Dean barely heard Seamus gasp in shock and vaguely registered the dark-haired boy squirm uncomfortably. He didn't even notice when a fifth boy entered the dormitory and introduced himself as Neville. His attention was entirely fixed on one thing that he couldn't take his eyes off: Seamus.
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Four years later Dean still couldn't take his eyes off Seamus.
"Here, try some."
Seamus broke off a piece of his croissant and leant across the table to feed it to Dean. Dean felt his face grow hot as Seamus' fingertips brushed his lips and quickly looked down to prevent Seamus from seeing his blush.
"Oi! Don't look away and spit it out, man!" Seamus laughed. He reached out a hand caught Dean's jaw in his fingers, guiding him to look up. Dean shivered involuntarily at his touch.
"I'm not spitting it out," Dean protested. "It's okay, actually."
"Damn right it is," Seamus grinned. He adopted a strict, high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like Professor McGonagall's and added; "International co-operation goes further than simply eyeing up the hot Veela from Beauxbatons, Thomas."
"I'm not eyeing up the Veela," Dean said, a little too quickly.
Seamus flashed his mischievous grin again and Dean caught something that looked suspiciously like relief in his eyes… Or maybe he was just getting too hopeful.
"C'mon," Seamus said abruptly, standing up and yanking on Dean's arm to make him get to his feet as well. "We need to get down to the grounds; first task is in ten minuets."
"The first task," Dean repeated. His nerves for Harry had been momentarily replaced by an emotion for Seamus that he wasn't going to allow himself to go into.
Seamus grimaced and jerked his head towards a boy with jet-black hair a few seats down from them. Harry was rising stiffly from his seat and being lead out of the Great Hall by Professor McGonagall.
"Let's go then, Shay," Dean said grimly.
The two of them made their way out of the Great Hall and into the Entrance Hall, weaving awkwardly between the masses of students.
"D'you want to go and get seats now?" Seamus asked.
"Sure."
Dean followed Seamus out of the castle doors and out into the grounds. The sun was shining and the air was warm, but Dean still shivered when Seamus clapped a strong hand on his shoulder.
"Harry's got to win this," Seamus said roughly.
Dean nodded, his throat too tight to speak. They walked together towards a large stadium that had been set up at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Dean didn't even question why the arena was set there; his mind was absorbed in the question and the many possible answers as to why Seamus never removed the hand on his shoulder.
"C'mon, through these doors…"
Seamus grasped Dean's upper arm and steered him through the crowd of students and into the stadium. He roughly elbowed his way ahead of the queue and dragged Dean up the steep wooden set of stairs that led up the stadium until they reached the very top.
"Here, how's this, Dean? Best seats!" Seamus said cheerfully, settling into a seat at the end of the row.
"It's ideal," Dean agreed. He was very aware of the fact that Seamus still had his hand on his arm… and had just led him to the back corner of the stands…
The task was amazing. It was dragons, dragons. One mother dragon for each champion, nursing a cluster of eggs. Ludo Bagman, the commentator, said the champions were supposed to retrieve the golden one. Cedric Diggory was first into the arena and he was up against a think-built bluish grey dragon recognised as a Swedish Short-Snout. Diggory did a clever piece of transfiguration and changed a rock into a dog, probably to serve as a diversion, but the dragon didn't buy it. Diggory got his egg - but only just.
Fleur was next. She cast a complicated charm on her dragon, a Common Welsh Green (Dean's best subject was Care of Magical Creatures, and he was grateful for the knowledge it had given him now), that made it go into some sort of trance. This proved to work excellently in stopping the dragon from attacking Delacour, but it resulted in it wobbling around and squashing half of the eggs - but not before Delacour caught the golden one.
Victor Krum was next, up against a fierce looking Chinese Fireball, Victor Krum. Even though Dean was a thorough West Ham fan, Krum still amazed him having seen his performance at the Quidditch World Cup… when Dean had been sharing a tent with Seamus…
There was a sudden gasp from the crown and Dean snapped out of his thoughts, looking up.
"What happened?" he asked Seamus.
"You're not watching!" Seamus yelled incredulously. "Pay attention, mate! Krum just shot a curse at the Fireball - the Conjunctivitis Curse, I think - and it - oh, for Merlin's sake, Dean, just watch!"
Dean tore his eyes off Seamus and turned to watch Krum who was sprinting at full speed towards the cluster of eggs. His dragon was roaring in agony, its eyes tight shut, stumbling and faltering, crushing the eggs. Krum dove to the ground, seizing the large golden egg.
"Yes!" Seamus yelled, seizing Dean's arm and thrusting it into the air in triumph. Dean didn't bother to point out to Seamus that he shouldn't be supporting the other champion, even if it was because he was a world-famous Quidditch player.
Harry was next.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…" Seamus muttered, his grip now painfully tight on Dean's arm.
The dragon emerged, restrained by a dozen keepers, all with their wands trained on her. It was huge, far bigger than any of the others were, and leathery black. It was strangely lizard-like and slim, but was extremely tall and strong, straining against its chains furiously. One of the keepers shouted a command and the chains vanished, and the keepers fled from the arena.
Dean swore.
"What's wrong? What dragon's that?" Seamus shouted: it was the only way to be heard over the din of screams and gasps that had now filled the stands.
"That," Dean said hoarsely, "is a bloody Hungarian Horntail. And that is not good, Shay, not good at all."
Harry walked out into the arena, and even from his great distance away, Dean could see that his face was tinged green. Harry walked determinedly to the centre of the arena and raised his wand.
"What's he going to do?" Seamus hissed, edging forward onto the edge of his seat.
"C'mon, Harry," Dean muttered, "you can do it."
"Accio Firebolt!"
Harry's voice was strong and loud, and it echoed throughout the stadium.
"Firebolt?"
"Did he just summon his broom?"
Thrilled whispers erupted in the stands, but only for a moment - then there was silence. They were waiting. Everyone was waiting to see if the famous Harry Potter's broom would come…
"Duck!"
Seamus shoved Dean's shoulders forward and leant over him, holding him out of the way as something zoomed over their heads. Seamus relaxed his grip and sat back up, clearing his throat awkwardly. Dean blushed furiously.
"Th - thanks, Shay," Dean stuttered.
"Er - no problem," Seamus said gruffly.
But Seamus didn't look away. He didn't remove his arm from around Dean's shoulders. Dean shifted a little, unsure of what to do. His arm brushed against Seamus’ and he felt Seamus tense a little. His deep blue eyes were boring into Dean's -
"Great Scott he can fly!"
They both jumped as Bagman's voice boomed out over the stands. Seamus withdrew his arm from Dean's shoulder immediately and cleared his throat again. Dean reluctantly turned to watch Harry.
Bagman was right; Harry could fly. Harry's flying in the school Quidditch matches were always faultless, and he could fly better than Dean had ever seen anyone fly - save Krum, perhaps, but this was just something else. Harry swerved and dived, then spiralled upwards. The Horntail's head followed his every move, circling beneath the boy on the broom. It was becoming dizzy.
"Come on, Harry, come on," Seamus urged.
Harry dove.
"Shit!" Seamus swore and grabbed Dean’s hand.
Dean froze. His head was spinning. Harry was diving for the golden egg. Seamus was holding his hand. The Horntail had spotted Harry's dive. Seamus’ grip tightened on his hand. Dean squeezed his hand back. Seamus shot him a smile. Harry seized the egg.
"Look at that!" Bagman was shouting. "Would you look at that!"
"YES!" Dean threw his hand into the air - bringing Seamus’ with it.
Seamus stood up suddenly, pulling Dean with him by the hand, and threw his arms around him in a fierce hug.
"He did it!" Seamus yelled into Dean's ear. "He bloody did it!"
"He bloody did it!" Dean echoed, daring to hug Seamus back.
Seamus let go of Dean, and sat down, running his shaking hands through his hair. Dean sat back down beside him, his entire body tense with anticipation - the results were going to be announced soon. Banners and streamers flashed in the air, and chants were arising from the buzzing din that filled the stands. The black-clad section of the crowd were on their feet, screaming for the scores for their second champion.
"How long does it take?" Seamus hissed impatiently, tapping his foot restlessly on the floor.
Finally Bagman stood and touched his wand to his throat, magically magnifying his voice so that it boomed over the stands.
"And now we have the scores of our forth and final champion, Mr Harry Potter!"
There was a deafening cheer from the crowd and then sudden, tense silence, as they waited for the first judge, Madame Maxime to raise her wand.
"Eight," Seamus said happily as Madame Maxime conjured a long silver ribbon into the air and twisted it to form a large number eight. "Now Crouch… Nine! Yes! Come on, Dumbledore… Nine!"
Dean clapped and cheered along with the crowd, but still feeling slightly sick with anticipation. Now came Bagman's score…
"YES!" Dean yelled, punching his hand into the air. "TEN!"
"Damn right!" Seamus yelled. "Ten! He bloody deserves it!"
Next was Karkaroff.
"Four?" Dean yelled when Karkaroff shot his score into the air.
"You stupid git! You gave Krum ten!" Seamus yelled, on his feet again.
"Shay - Seamus!" Dean grabbed Seamus’ arm to stop him pelting over to the judges table and thumping Karkaroff. "Harry's tied first place with Diggory! He's tied first place, Shay! Hogwarts are winning!"
Utter shock registered on Seamus’ face and his jaw dropped.
"We're winning!" He yelled, pulling Dean into another bone-cracking hug. He let go and grabbed Dean's arm again, dragging him towards the steps. "Come on, Dean! We've got to get to the common room! We're going to have the best party we’ve ever thrown!"
Dean sprinted down the steps after Seamus, his muscles tense with a thrill and slight pain at Seamus’ grip. He had to grip Seamus’ arm back twice as hard to prevent them from being separated in the masses of students filing out of the stadium with them.
He barely registered crossing the grounds and sprinting through the castle to the Gryffindor common room - Seamus’ touch was all that filled his mind.
"Balderdash!" Dean gasped when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady (Seamus appeared too excited and out of breath to speak).
They climbed through the portrait hole and Seamus’ hand was lost from Dean's arm in the crowd that met them and they were separated.
The Weasley twins had somehow summoned up a huge supply of food and drinks were also selling their own produce. Dean made a mental note not to eat or drink anything offered to him by Fred or George that night.
Seamus came wading back towards Dean through the crowd, clutching two bottles of Butterbeer.
"Fred just gave these to me!" he said, grinning. "Keep it quiet though, mate, they haven't got enough to go round everyone." He thrust one at Dean.
"Thanks, Shay," Dean mumbled stupidly, taking the bottle and trying - and failing - to open it.
"Here…" Seamus leant forward and bit the cap off the bottle. "There you go," he said, spitting the cap into his hand and tossing it over his shoulder.
"Thanks," said Dean. He took a swig of his drink, forgetting that it hand come from the hands of Fred, and felt a slight thrill at the thought that Seamus’ mouth had been there only moments before. He couldn't work out if the wonderful warm sensation in his stomach was from the Butterbeer, or the previous touch of Seamus' lips on the bottle.
There was a sudden uproar and everyone flooded towards the portrait hole. Dean exchanged a grin with Seamus.
"Harry."
Harry was almost suffocated on his way into the common room, but he was grinning from ear to ear. Dean was pleased to see that Ron was with him; the two of them had fallen out after Harry had been selected as champion. It was great that they were friends again. And also great that this means that he'll stop hanging round with you and Seamus - so you get Seamus all to yourself again, said a small but truthful voice in the back of Dean's mind.
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It was almost one o'clock in the morning by the time that people began to go to bed. Dean followed Harry, Ron, Neville, and Seamus up to their dormitory and collapsed onto his bed. Ron was now giving Harry a detailed account of what Harry's turn at the task had looked like from his position in the stands.
"… And then you dived, and you should have seen the look on Bagman's face! And then the Horntail - "
"Harry was there, Ron," Seamus pointed out.
Dean watched as Seamus pulled his robes over his head and threw them to the foot of his bed. How Seamus managed to look so good in just a pair of jeans and a shirt, Dean didn't know.
Dean changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed.
"Night," he called.
"Goodnight."
"Night, mate."
"G'night."
"Goodnight, Dean."
Dean looked up to find Seamus watching him intensely.
"Goodnight, Shay."
Seamus shot Dean a smile and Dean returned it, watching Seamus’ eyes closely.
You're staring, said a small voice in Dean's mind. Dean hastily broke his gaze and tugged the hangings of his four-poster shut. He heard footsteps make their way across the room and come to a halt near Seamus’ bed. Dean listened.
"See?" Neville's voice was hushed and pleased - almost triumphant. "He gave you that look again."
"Shush!" Seamus’ words came out harshly, but he kept his voice so quiet that Dean had to strain to hear it. "No, he didn't. Now shut up."
He heard Neville laugh softly before his footsteps sounded again and he returned to his own bed. Dean heard the creak as Seamus collapsed onto his bed and the rustle of fabric as he dragged the hangings shut. Dean's mind was racing. His stomach flipped and he tensed at the sound of a low, pained groan from Seamus’ bed.
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Dean couldn't sleep. How could he after what he had just heard? What did it mean? Did Neville - did Seamus, know about Dean's feelings? Did Seamus’ groan mean that Seamus felt the same way?
Dean sat up, drew back his hangings, and swung his legs out of bed. He glanced at the luminous hands of his alarm clock on his bedside table; it was almost four o'clock in the morning. There was no way that he could sleep. He stood up, automatically collecting his wand and shoving it into his waistband, and quietly crossed the dormitory, determinedly avoiding glancing at Seamus’ closed hangings. Dean walked quickly down the stone staircase that led to the common room, shivering. He wished he'd though to put on something more that just his black pyjama trousers. He rubbed his bare arms and chest, trying to warm himself up.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and slowly turned the handle of the tall wooden door that led to the common room and stepped inside.
Someone was already there.
A boy was laying on one of the worn red sofas, propped up on his elbow, his bare feet resting on the arm. He was wearing nothing but a pair of faded, ripped jeans, and he was studying the extinguished fireplace with a far-away look on his face. The boy had dark blond hair that was tousled as though he had run his hands through it, and it fell casually into his eyes, which were a deep, midnight blue.
It was Seamus.
Dean crossed the room in one swift movement, pointed his wand at the fireplace, and roaring flames instantly leapt into life in the grate.
"Seamus."
Seamus jumped and looked up.
"Dean! What are you doing down here?" Seamus smiled but his eyes were troubled.
"I - er - couldn't sleep. You?"
Seamus just shrugged in response. Before he knew what he was doing his hand was on Seamus’ shoulder. Seamus’ skin was soft and warm, but Dean felt Seamus shiver at the contact.
"Sit down," Seamus offered, raising his legs for Dean to sit down beside him, and then resting them back down, over Dean's lap.
They sat in silence for a while. The flames reflected on Seamus' bare chest, giving his tanned skin an almost golden glow. You're staring, said a small but familiar voice in Dean’s head. Dean shook himself and quickly turned to watch the flames in the fireplace, determined not to look at Seamus. He was extremely conscious of every inch of them that was touching; Seamus’ legs over Dean's lap, Dean's arm lying across Seamus’ knees, Seamus' hand touching Dean's forearm…
Dean felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck and glanced up. Seamus was watching him.
"Sorry," Seamus muttered, looking away quickly.
"What for?"
"I - er - " Seamus laughed nervously. "I don't know."
Dean smiled. Seamus leant forward, resting his arms and chin on his knees. Their faces were just inches apart. Dean's stomach flipped and he felt a thrill of recklessness. He closed his hand over Seamus’. Seamus’ eyes widened a little, but a smile played on his lips. He interlocked his fingers with Dean's. Dean leant closer, so close that he could feel Seamus’ breath on his lips. It was up to Seamus now. If Seamus felt the same, then he would have to close the gap between them.
Seamus’ breath quickened, the sound of it ragged, and Dean knew that he was waiting for some form of permission. Dean raised his free hand and curled it around Seamus’ waist, his fingers pressing into the muscle, pulling him closer.
In one fast movement Seamus manoeuvred himself to kneel over Dean, his knees touching the outside Dean's thighs and he unlocked their hands, instead running his own through Dean's hair.
"You - Do you - ?" Dean stammered, frozen in shock, his mouth not forming the words properly.
Seamus nodded.
"Yeah."
Seamus closed his mouth over Deans, kissing him deeply but gently.
"Holy shit!"
Dean's arms flew off Seamus as if he was red hot, and Seamus leapt to his feet.
"I - er - we - er - we'll just go - "
It was Fred and George.
"Sorry - we - er - we were just - " Seamus stammered, but George cut over him.
"Don't finish that sentence, Finnigan!" George ordered, and Dean could see that he was biting back a laugh. "It's bad enough our eyes are scarred without our ears too."
Seamus flushed red and Dean felt heat creep into his own cheeks as well.
"What are you doing up so early?" Seamus asked in a would-be casual voice.
"Going to the Owlery," Fred said stiffly. "Got an important letter to send."
Seamus nodded. George cleared his throat. Dean stood up and nervously ran a hand through his hair, dragging out the knots that Seamus had created.
"No need to get up, lads, forget we were ever here!" Fred said loudly, as though the volume of his voice would blot out the image of what he had seen. He clamped a hand over his eyes and extended the other to feel his way across the room. "We'll just - er - pass through and you guys can - er - carry on with - er - what you were doing."
George followed suit and covered his eyes, and they both stumbled across the common room and clambered out of the portrait hole.
"Well," Dean stammered, once Fred and George were out of sight. "That was - er - awkward."
Seamus grinned nervously.
"Just a bit."
Seamus stepped closer and placed his hands on Dean's hips.
Dean's mind was racing. Fred and George - did they mind? Would they tell anyone? Would he care if they did? Had that - that amazing moment, that kiss - just been spontaneous? Did Seamus really love Dean as much as Dean loved him? He had to know.
He stepped forward, closing the gap between them with a kiss.
And Seamus kissed him back, so strongly and deeply that all coherent thought was lost. They broke apart and simply looked at each other.
"I love you." The three words tumbled out of Dean's mouth automatically, naturally.
Seamus met his gaze with a blazing look that was so honest it was almost vulnerable.
"I love you too."
Three Words by Furry Little Problem
Chapter Notes: Huge, huge, HUGE thanks to my friend Jane, who Betad this for me :) She has been just ACE with this fic :) It would completely suck without her! She's practically co-written this, lol. She's awesome :) She's, er… Microfatcat - I think, lol - on, well, pretty much everywhere! Check out her stuff on fanfiction.net, she's a damn good writer.
Anyho, moving an from inflating my friend's head, this is just a random one-shot of how I reckon Dean and Seamus could have got together. They're in their forth year, during the Triwizard Tournament. It's just got two kisses at the end, but other than that there's no, y'know, horrific "graphic content" or anything :p It's all clean, lol.
So yeah… this is my first romance fic, so I'd love it if you could spare the time to review and let me know what you think!
Enjoy,
Furry
xxxx