“just us”
Of all the things Dean loved about Seamus Finnigan, the way he acted on Dean’s birthday was not one of them.
Having his birthday so close to Christmas sucked in the first place. Everyone is too caught up in holidays and family and presents and Santa that no one really cares when his birthday is. He used to try and have a party, but everyone was usually busy. It got to the point where even Dean didn’t particularly care. Every year on the eleventh of December, Dean aged another year and stayed up into late hours of the night on Neville’s bed eating chocolates with Sea and Nev. Dean liked this, and if he had it his way, no one else would even be aware it was his birthday.
When Dean had revealed this at the end of second year, when a conversation about the date of one’s birthday was all a twelve year old needed to distract themself from the massive snake trying to kill them in the walls, Seamus was absolutely outraged. Since then, Dean has not been able to live a life free from what Seamus refers to as “The Festival Of Dean Thomas”.
Oh, is it lunch time? Get ready to hear Seamus yell at everyone to sing Happy Birthday.
Silence in class? “Hey, professor, did you know it’s Dean’s birthday?”
Did you want some peace and quiet in the hallway? Ha, no. Seamus will be throwing confetti at anyone who walks past and yelling “It’s Dean’s birthday, you twat, wish him happy birthday”.
Needless to say, Seamus is a loud obnoxious prick on that day.
It had been just over a month since Dean realised Seamus wasn’t just his best friend. And today was the eleventh of December. Just great, Dean thinks, now I have to deal with the festival of myself.
Needless to say, he was a little surprised Seamus hadn’t pounced on him like an excited dog telling him to get up, and even more surprised that none of his dormmates seemed to be in the room. He trudges down to the Great Hall, a bit disoriented.
He walks through the doors and— in the name of all that is holy what the bloody hell is that.
Somehow, in some way, Seamus had managed to force all of the Gryffindors - okay, maybe not all of them, but most certainly the ones from their year plus Fred and George - to get up at the crack of dawn, and apparently make a (very badly spelt) banner reading “HAPY BIRHDAY DEAN TOMAS”, with little scribbled-in letters where necessary. At least someone had tried.
Dean just stands there, shocked. Seamus runs up to him, practically jumping with excitement. “Oh, don’t you love it, Thomas?! It’s perfect! Well, the spelling isn’t—but the concept is!”
Dean stays still and silent.
“Dean? Dean, bud, speak.” Seamus rushes.
“Did you organise this?” Dean breathes.
“Well, of course I did! I was thinking about how you hate your birthday and never want to celebrate it and how you’ve never had a party and, quite frankly, I was not going to let that go, so I did this—oomph!”
Seamus is cut off by Dean wrapping his arms around the boy tightly in a ‘brotherly hug’. “Thanks, Finnigan.” He mutters. His head was spinning.
“No problem, Thomas.” He says with a grin, pulling away. “Now go eat cake, I forced Ron and Harry to make it.”
“Of course you did.” Dean replies, sighing with a small grin on his face. He walks over to the cake and takes a piece, sitting down. The cake was alright, he supposed, but it’s the thought that counts.
Neville comes up to him at one point and hands him a plant. It looks like sunflowers almost. Dean smiles. “Thanks, Nev. Those sunflowers are nice.”
Neville rushes to correct him. “Actually, this is a Black Eyed Susan, and it represents justice. I chose it ‘cause your name is an Anglicization of the Hebrew noun meaning law, justice, or verdict.”
Dean just nods. Yeah, thinking back, this is Neville we’re talking about. As if it was going to be a normal sunflower with no meaning. That’s his favourite thing about Neville. Everything he does has a reason - even if it’s as random as the origins of a name.
Dean was, to be perfectly candid, absolutely stunned at this entire event. He hasn’t celebrated his birthday since he was maybe 3, and it hadn’t even crossed his mind to try. But somehow, Seamus was really that concerned about it that he made everyone do this.
“Oh, and by the way, Nan gave me a couple Galleons! Tomorrow we can go to Hogsmeade and grab a few butterbeers on me - it is your birthday, after all.” Neville gushed.
Dean had to hug Neville too. He seemed to actually care if he celebrated his birthday. Of course, Dean was still insanely embarrassed at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “Make sure to remind me to get you a really good Christmas present, okay, mate?” He mutters, barely containing a grin.
“Of course.” Neville replies, his usual soft smile on his face.
— ⭒⭑🟊⭑⭒ —
Around two hours later, other students flooded into the hall and Dean hastily helped the others pack up before the teachers got there. Then they all took their usual spots. Dean doesn’t know when he started holding his breath at breakfasts hoping Seamus didn’t blow up at Ron. They still had God awful puberty to blame for that. Luckily today was one of the days this didn’t happen.
“How’s everyone feeling about Christmas?” Harry asked. Ron groaned.
“Not good if Mum’s going to knit me another ugly sweater. You know, she never makes Charlie wear his when he comes for Christmas, I don’t see why! She makes the rest of us wear them.” He rants.
“I hope Nan gets me something good for Christmas. Something I can actually use, y’know?” Neville chimes in.
“Well, I’ve got a pretty good idea of my mum’s present for me, and I think it involves a ring and her new boyfriend.” Dean says, knowing their engagement is bound to happen soon.
“Oh, mate, that’s great!” Ron says, with a grin.
“Yeah. I suppose I don’t mind him, plus, y’know, as long as Mum’s happy.” He points out, taking a bite of his toast. Seamus nods and takes a sip of his hot chocolate - which is no longer filled with disgusting homemade pumpkin puree, and is now packed with cinnamon because have you actually never had cinnamon hot chocolate before, Thomas? - and Neville is just eating strawberries as usual. Ron’s having toast, and Harry’s having pumpkin juice.
“Did anyone do the homework?”
“Do I look like I have time to do the homework when there’s a prisoner out to get me? Ask Hermione.”
“I’ll give you the answers, Ron.”
“Thanks, Nev.”
Dean looks over at Seamus. His laugh and smile as the others keep talking? Dean cannot ruin that for stupid feelings, absolutely not. In the corner of his eye, he swears he sees Neville smile at the him and Seamus knowingly.
Neville kept his promise to take Dean to Hogsmeade. He spent hours dragging Dean around Bewildering Blooms, giving him various facts on different plants. At one point Dean just laughs. “You are absolutely getting top marks in Herbology.”
— ⭒⭑🟊⭑⭒ —
Later that day, Dean decided to take a trip to Professor Lupin’s office. Therapy is expensive, but Remus Lupin is free.
He sits down in silence at first, just smiling and nodding as the professor pours him tea. He remembers the instructions from last week. Call me Remus.
“Um… Remus?” The words feel weird on his tongue but he wasn't going to ignore the wishes of the person who has helped him through all of this.
“Yes, Dean?” The professor asks with a small smile, wincing slightly as he adjusts his seating position.
“Can you please tell me more about Moony and Starboy?”
There’s more silence.
Then a sigh.
“Sure. I’ll- okay. Fine.” Remus replies. Dean internally thanks whatever higher power exists that the topic wasn’t avoided once more.
“I told you that Starboy went to… went to prison, yes?” Remus says, and Dean immediately nods.
“Alright. Well… Moony never believed that. But they- other people forced him to. And after a while, he wondered if the boy he knew was ever there. He read the letters over and over again, went through every inch of his flat, wondering if he missed some sort of sign. The boy he once knew and the prisoner were so different…” His voice trails off to a whisper. He looks away, and then continues.
“But there were good moments too. There- there was Moony’s fifteenth birthday. Him, Glasses, Starboy and… and Wormy, that was their other friend, they all went to the Muggle bar, and I- it was their first time drinking. And, well, Moony and Starboy were together the whole night. That night, I- Starboy didn’t take the alcohol well, let’s say. And Moony had to hold Starboy’ hair back while he threw up.” Remus recounts, stifling a small chuckle.
Dean laughs softly. These stories make him feel better. Less… different, he guesses. “That’s… nice.”
“Yes, it is.” Remus admits with a small bittersweet smile.
“Sir?”
“Remus.”
“Right, Remus. Er… I told Neville. A few weeks ago.” He states, looking down at his hands in his lap.
“How’d it go?...” Remus inquires. He seems curious. Maybe Moony’s coming out didn’t go so well. Now Dean feels embarrassed about it.
“It went well. He didn’t mind.” His eyes avoid Remus’.
“That’s amazing, Dean.” Remus replies gently, leaning forward slightly. “Seriously, that’s great. How do you feel?”
“...Better. Definitely better.” Dean smiles.
“That’s good. I’m glad.” Remus says, a kind expression on his tired and scarred face.
Professor Remus Lupin is an absolute legend.
— ⭒⭑🟊⭑⭒ —
Everyone knows History Of Magic is a boring class.
Usually. Not today.
Today someone has stolen Seamus Finnigan’s seat next to Dean Tomas.
Seamus is seething.
In Dean’s defense, the girl is quite nice.
Her name is Aaira Romano, she is a Hufflepuff, and she is the only person Dean has ever met that is interested in History of Magic.
It started when she sat down and tossed her dark brown hair over her face and immediately began taking notes. She didn’t ask if the seat was taken, she just sat and pulled out parchment.
That’s the first thing that caught Dean’s attention.
The second was her book bag. It was adorned with pins and patches and the like. Some pins had bands, some just had phrases. “The school system sucks” was there. “Fuck the patriarchy” was there. Among others.
The third and final was the fact that when she talked to Dean, it wasn’t pleasant at all. Very unlike a Hufflepuff, and very unlike the giggling girls he was used to.
“Do you have a quill?” She spoke. To the point, alright. He pulls a quill out of his bag.
“Yeah. Surprised you don’t in that massive bag you got there.” He remarks, passing her the quill. “What’s your name?”
“Aaira. Aaira Romano.” She replies, going back to her work. She was quite pretty, actually, now that Dean was looking properly. She was practically the only girl Dean had seen that hadn’t properly hit puberty yet, in all aspects. Mainly the fact that she wasn’t giggling.
Okay, maybe Dean just really hates gigglers.
She had a deep voice, which was refreshing - again, most girls he knew squealed all the time. Actually, he only knows three, and out of them, Ginny and Hermione are the only ones who don’t giggle.
You know, maybe I just really don’t like Cho all too much.
“And you?” She asked, not looking up.
“Er, Dean. Dean Thomas.” He replied, studying the way she writes in cursive. He never saw the point in cursive.
“No offense, but how exactly are you a Hufflepuff? You seem more Ravenclaw-ish. Or Gryffindor.” He asked, not wanting to sound rude.
“Because I’m loyal. Obviously. Dumbarse.” She replies with a slight grin.
Okay, Dean thought, we are definitely going to get along. In his peripheral vision he saw Seamus clutching his quill and he wondered if it would break. He had Neville, though, he’d be fine.
“Alright then. You know, you’re a lot less giggly than the other girls in our year.” Dean remarks.
“Is that supposed to be a good thing?” She asked, a bit too sharply.
“Well, it’s not a good or bad thing. Just wondering if you’re actually a girl.” He says jokingly, with a grin.
“I am a girl.” She replies, practically scolding him.
“Alright, alright, sorry.” He says, rolling his eyes.
It’s quiet for a bit, and a piece of paper lands on Dean’s desk, thrown by someone on the other side of the room. It reads:
“Dean. Who’s that girl? And why is she in my seat? Why aren’t you telling her to move? - Seamus”
He sighs internally and scribbles on the paper.
“Seamus, the girl’s name is Aaira Romano. I don’t know why she’s in your seat. And she’s sorta scary, so. - Dean”
He chucks the paper back at Seamus, who looks at the note, reads it, mutters something and then burns the note with his wand.
Dean couldn’t tell if it was an accident.
He turns back to Aaira.
Something was different about her, that’s for sure.
He wasn’t sure if it was in a good way or a bad way yet.
— ⭒⭑🟊⭑⭒ —
That night, he felt the familiar short figure of the Irish boy he’d trust with his life crawl into bed beside him.
“Dean?” He whispers.
“Hi Sea. What’s up?” He responds, his voice hushed so as not to wake the other boys.
“I just… that girl in History of Magic, yeah?” He mutters.
“Aaira, yeah. What about her?” He asks, turning to properly face Seamus.
“You like her or something?” He mumbles, his ears dark red.
“What?! No. Absolutely not.” He murmurs, laying on his back and looking at the ceiling once more.
Seamus nods. “Good. That’s good.”
“You alright, Sea?” Dean asks quietly.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Seamus pauses. “It’s just gonna be you, me, and Neville, then. A bunch of bachelors.”
“..Suppose so.” Dean replies with a soft smile. He quietly hopes him and Seamus aren’t bachelors when they’re older, but he shoves that to the small part of his heart now reserved for thoughts about Seamus.
“Just us.” Seamus echoes.
Those are the last words he speaks before his breathing slows and Dean can hear the pattern of his heartbeat change to one of an unconscious being. Dean says one last thing to himself before following suit.
“Just us.”