Powdered Dragon Claw
Halloween was veering closer. Dean had a busy timetable to sort through. He was keeping up with his studies well enough and was still meeting with McGonagall semi-regularly - for advice, or to make suggestions for the school. After a First Year had been found crying in the Northern Courtyard, Dean had suggested allocating a spare classroom for him to study in where students could approach him or Bela Talbot, the Head Girl, for advice. Admittedly, this had become somewhat more awkward than anticipated. They’d agreed to take turns in using the room, to avoid any crossover. This was good. It meant Dean could study in peace, alone if he wanted, or with Benny and Charlie if they were free, and it meant students from across the school had a place to talk to him if they so desired. He would come to McGonagall with a foot-long scroll of complaints almost solely about Slughorn and his favouritism- ‘I don’t hate the guy, Professor, but you gotta admit, this is almost criminal’, ‘Professor Slughorn will not be stepping down from the position, Winchester!’. The Head Boy role, admittedly, had its ups and downs.
Castiel was harder to access these days. He hung out less and less with Benny, Charlie, and Dean as a group. He’d started coming back to the Dormitory late at night. He was late for classes more often than he was on time. It came to a head one morning, on the tenth of October. It was a Sunday, Dean had Quidditch practice starting in half an hour - he’d convinced Benny to move practice from 6am on weekends to a much more reasonable 9 o’clock - ‘I am NOT that invested, Benny’, ‘Merlin’s beard I need my beauty sleep!’… ‘If you ever wake me up at half five for practice again I’ll hex your pillow into roaches whilst you sleep!’.
October 10th. A month and 10 days into term. 10 days into the Castiel and April saga which Dean spent the majority of his time trying to avoid. 7 days since Charlie had told Dean that Castiel and April had a date upcoming. Dean felt miserable.
He pulled back his curtains and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hissing in a breath as his bare feet touched cool stone. Across the room Benny was already up and away, his bed curtains pulled back roughly and his duvet strewn half across the floor. Raphael’s bed was empty too on brief glance, pyjamas neatly folded on his pillow. And Max - he barely slept anyway, so it was no surprise to see his bed deserted. He was probably with Alicia in the common room or at breakfast.
Dean stretched, a satisfying click resonating through his body as his bones eased into place after an awkward night’s sleep.
‘Alright,’ he yawned, running a hand through his hair as he plodded over to the bed on the other side of his. ‘Rise and shine, sleepy head.’
With a flourish, Dean yanked back Castiel’s curtains, mouth open for a smug morning greeting that never came. The bed was empty. Dean’s eyebrows sloped together, the grogginess of sleep starting to slip away. Ok.Usually, Dean had taken to leaving Castiel to lie in - he’d sleep in and show up at the tail end of breakfast. Or he’d miss breakfast entirely and be smuggled a bacon bap up by Charlie or Dean. This morning must’ve been the first all term where Castiel was up before Dean - and it hurt a little to know he hadn’t bothered to wake Dean up. Hadn’t bothered to ask how Dean slept, the way Dean asked him every morning. Dean swallowed, turning away from the bed and moving over to his trunk.
He pulled his Gryffindor jumper over his head for warmth and slipped on some trainers, chewing the inside of his cheeks as he did so. According to his watch it was 7:57AM. Breakfast would still be running for a good couple hours on a Sunday. Dean shuffled down the stairs, nodded his good mornings to the few people who were sleepily curled up in the Common Room, before starting his trek through the castle to get to the Great Hall.
He spotted Max and Alicia almost instantly at the Gryffindor table, sharing a stack of toast with some of the other Gryffindor girls. Charlie was there. Dean sidled over, sliding across the bench to sit next to the redhead. She had way too much energy for this early in the day.
‘’Morning,’ he grunted. ‘Anyone seen Cas?’
Max pushed the plate of toast over to Dean with a confused nod. ‘Thought you guys were both asleep when I left. I could hear you snoring a mile off - and Cas… you sure he’s not in bed?’
‘Nope,’ Dean said confidently. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and reached for a piece of toast, humming his gratitude. ‘You alright, Charles?’ he greeted.
Charlie scrunched up her nose and elbowed Dean in the side. ‘Never better. I was thinking of asking Dorothy to come to Hogsmeade with me today, if you wanna tag along?’
‘And third wheel to within an inch of my life?’ Dean laughed. ‘Thanks but no thanks.’ He smirked, shooting Charlie a good natured wink - she flushed, mostly with annoyance. ‘Anyways, I figured I’d go with Cas or Benny. Hit up the Three Broomsticks. Same old, same old…’
‘Mate,’ Max began seriously, ‘you are not gonna get Benny out of Hogwarts today. You’re not gonna get him off the pitch even. I’m pretty sure he’s having an aneurysm as we speak about the game next week.’
‘Says he wants to be the best Captain Gryffindor has seen in history,’ Alicia piped up. ‘You know he threatened to boot me as a Chaser because I told him I wouldn’t get up at 5AM for an extra curricular. He’s lost it. Imagine if I did that? I’d have to wake up at three if I ever wanted to do my hair before practice.’
Dean grimaced. ‘Ah,’ he sighed. ‘Yeah, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Benny kicked me off as Beater either. And I don’t even know if I’d be mad about it. Do you reckon we should host an intervention?’
At this, Max snorted into his next slice of toast. ‘Rather you than me. I value my head, y’know?’
Under the table, Dean felt a sharp kick to his shin. He hissed in surprise and looked over, Charlie was staring at something across the room.
The Hall was mostly empty - sensible folk slept in on Sundays, even with the promise of the first Hogsmeade trip of the year today - but this only made it easier to find who Charlie was staring at.
There, across the room, on the Slytherin table, sat Castiel and Raphael. With April. It was the first time Dean had seen her in person properly outside of class, and the first time he’d seen her with Castiel, too. She was all sly smiles and sharp laughs, now Dean could see them all he could practically hear the evil coming from her mouth. It stung a fair amount, truthfully, to see Cas sat across from her on a Sunday, looking all doe-like and in love. He was meant to be here. With Dean. Planning their fresh attempt to break into the Shrieking Shack.
‘Are you kidding me?’ Dean muttered, slouching back.
Charlie wrapped an arm around Dean sympathetically and leaned her head on his shoulder. She rubbed his back. ‘Fraid not, dude. Looks like Cas has some Hogsmeade plans of his own.’
‘She’s using him, I know it,’ Dean said bitterly. ‘I dunno what for yet, but I don’t trust it one bit. I mean, the Slytherin table? What’s gotten into him…’
At this, Charlie sighed. ‘April seems nice enough,’ she said carefully, ‘and Cas is old enough to make his own judgements about people and decisions about who he dates. If he’s wrong, he’ll learn. You’re his friend, you’ve just got to support him through it.’
‘I can’t just sit back and watch her walk all over him, Charlie,’ Dean began. ‘You know, he wrote her Potions essay for her last week. And he took the fall for her in class when she knocked a cauldron over and half melted the table. It’s scary, man. To watch how much he’s willing to do for someone he likes.’
Charlie pressed her lips together looking unsure. ‘That’s just Cas,’ she said quietly. ‘You realize, he’d do all of that for you, too? Probably has done already. Maybe it’s just - I don’t know - hard to watch him care about someone as much as he’s cared about you? It’s only natural. He’s your best friend. Besides. Today is their first date. He’s probably just excited.’
‘I’m not jealous,’ Dean said quickly, his cheeks heating up. ‘That makes it sound like I’m jealous, but I’m not. I just don’t trust her. He’d do anything for her right now, and I don’t know if she would do the same.’
With that final assessment, Dean stood up from the table, grabbed a last piece of toast, and looked back over at the Slytherin table. Castiel, April, and Raphael were gone. Maybe some of what Charlie had said was right. Maybe it did just hurt to see someone else be the centre of Castiel’s world for once.
God, Seventh Year was starting very quickly to suck like ass.
When Dean returned to the Dormitory, Raphael was in the shower and Castiel was fresh out. He had a towel wrapped around himself, shoulders shiny from water and droplets running down his neck from his hair. Dean noticed then that Castiel’s hair was different. It had been hard to tell from across the hall, but now Dean could see that Castiel had changed it - it was shaved shorter at the back, and it wasn’t clear black now. It was a deep, dark - almost unnoticeable - purple.
‘Hey,’ Dean nodded. Castiel looked over and smiled.
‘Dean. I didn’t realize you were at breakfast.’
‘I was with Max and Charlie, and that,’ Dean shrugged, moving to sit on his bed. He looked at Cas, watching as the other boy went back to assessing the clothes laid out across his duvet. ‘You’ve changed your hair.’
Castiel paused, holding up a shirt before slowly putting it back down on the bed. He tightened his grip on his bath towel and glanced over at the Dormitory door, as though worried Raphael might overhear. ‘I have, yes,’ he said tensely. ‘I felt like a change.’
‘And you’re gonna be able to keep it up?’ Dean asked, hearing the judgement in his own voice. ‘You know - just that usually you say it takes effort to keep up a disguise. Won’t people ask questions?’
‘It’s not a disguise.’ Castiel’s tone was short as he spoke. ‘It’s a hairstyle, Dean. And if anyone asks, I’ll tell them I dyed it. People do that all the time. April dyes her hair.’
Dean scoffed. ‘Yeah - April dyes it ginger so people won’t realize she’s got the blonde hair of a half freaking Veela.’ It was a fact Dean remembered had been circling a few years prior - that April Kelly was part Veela. Her hair was strawberry blonde. Her eyes piercing. Her skin fair. She’d probably put some sort of spell on Castiel which was making him lose his mind.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Dean just shrugged. Looking away. ‘Means I don’t trust her. That’s all.’
Castiel’s expression became stony. He cleared his throat and moved behind his curtains, pulling on a new pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt. ‘April might be part Veela. I don’t see what it matters.’ Castiel reappeared from behind the bed post, rubbing his towel over his hair roughly. ‘It may have escaped your notice, Dean, but you’re best friends with a Vampire,’ he hissed, so Raphael wouldn’t hear from the other room. ‘And me.’ His eyes flashed purple pointedly - teeth growing into fangs which disappeared as quickly as they arrived. ‘So if you’ve got a problem with magical creatures all of a sudden, it’s best you tell me right now.’
Dean swallowed, slumping back on his bed. ‘Forget it,’ he muttered. There was a pause - tension thick in the air. ‘Are you going Hogsmeade today?’ he asked at last.
Castiel nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘April asked me to go on a date at The Three Broomsticks. I thought I told you.’
‘No,’ Dean said shortly. ‘Doesn’t matter, though. I’m busy today, anyway.’ It was a lie.
‘I think you’d like April,’ Castiel continued carefully, ‘she’s got this, uh - supplier. In Hogsmeade. You know.’
Dean blinked. ‘No. I don’t know. Elaborate.’
Castiel’s jaw clenched, his eyes skirting around the room. He looked weird with his hair dark purple - Dean decided instantly that he didn’t like it. ‘I told her about my - nightmares,’ he said slowly, ‘and April said she knew exactly what ought to help. She knows a guy who sells Powdered Dragon Claw. It’s meant to be good for stress, sleep, relaxation - that kind of thing. I said I’d try it - later today maybe, in the Shrieking Shack. April knows how to get in, you know? And you can join, if you like. You look tense.’
Dean scowled. ‘Drugs?’
‘Drugs makes it sound like it’s a terrible thing. Think - potion ingredients more than drugs.’
‘So drugs, Cas. Dragon Claw is a drug. And you’re gonna try it in the Shrieking Shack? On a school night? With a girl you barely know? Dude… have a little class.’
At this, Castiel’s lips pressed together. ‘Yes, Dean. I’m going to try it. I’ll tell you if it’s any good - not that you’d ever want to break a rule in your life and try it either.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means, when you break a rule it’s all fun and games. When I break a rule, you make me feel like I’m a morally depraved criminal.’
‘It’s just not you, Cas. I mean, drugs…’
‘It is me. I’m 17. I do drugs. I drink. You drink. We all drink. Drugs are the same.’ He opened his mouth to say something else before shaking his head. ‘I’m gonna head. I’ll see you tonight at dinner maybe, but if not then I’ll see you in Herbology tomorrow.’
Dean chewed his lip and lay back on his bed, staring up at the canopy as Castiel rummaged through his belongings in silence across the room. When he looked up, Castiel had pulled a jumper over his head - one Dean hadn’t seen before. It was black and white, ironed and new. Dean blinked.
‘You’re kidding me, right?’ Dean breathed. ‘Not the Montrose Magpies? Dude…’
Castiel looked down at his jumper and smoothed it. ‘They’re a good team,’ he scowled. ‘They’ve won more leagues than the Prides ever have. I’m tired of supporting the Underdogs forever. See you at dinner.’
With that, he was gone. Raphael came out the shower shortly, looking a little perplexed at the tenseness with which Dean was sat. He changed in silence and left, following after Castiel.
With a heaviness to his bones, Dean stood up and went over to Castiel’s trunk. He opened it and dug right down to the bottom, pulling out the ugly, loud, purple jumper that Cas so often wore - pushed all the way to the bottom. It had gold stars all over it and two golden P’s in the centre, above the date 1292. It was threadbare. A hand me down from many brothers before Castiel. The Pride of Portree colours were garish and old fashioned, but my god did it remind Dean of Castiel. He looked over at Castiel’s bedside table. There was the picture of Cas and his brothers, all lined up neatly in a row with matching restrained smiles, stood in the rain outside their family home on Skye. More pictures scattered the wall by his bed - some of him and Dean, or with Charlie. But something was missing. When had the Pride of Portree flags been taken down? Dean hadn’t even noticed. He felt a pang, already missing the amateurish, garish font that he used to poke fun of so freely.
Everything felt weird and different. Dean’s stomach was swirling. He shut the case and went back to his own bed, where three pictures were tacked to his wall. One of him and his brother, Sammy, with their adoptive father, Bobby. One of his parents, at their wedding day, and finally one of himself and Castiel, down by the Black Lake taken when they were 13. Castiel was wearing his Prides jumper then, same as he always did, even though it had been too big for him back then. He was grinning, ear to ear - the kind of smile that is so rare for a guy like Cas to give - and Dean was laughing at something that had been said, his hand smacking down on Castiel’s knee.
God, I wanna be thirteen again, Dean thought to himself, wondering when he’d last laughed like that or last seen Castiel smile like that. Things were changing. Castiel felt further away then ever before, even though he was right there, within reach.
Dean was still deep in thought the following night, all memory of Hogsmeade pushed to the forefront of his mind. Castiel hadn’t returned to the Castle until way after curfew - he’d clearly snuck back in using a different entrance. He hadn’t said much, but even the Metamorphmagus hadn’t managed to hide the way his pupils were blown wide. Dean had spent his time in Hogsmeade with Sam, and Sam’s friends; Kevin and Garth. Yes, it was a little pathetic to hang around with his kid brother - but it was better than interrupting whatever Charlie had going on with Dorothy (who were just friends, apparently) and whatever hell hole April was dragging Castiel into. He’d hustled some money at The Three Broomsticks, after winning several games of Exploding Snap and challenging (and defeating) Madam Rosmerta at several games of Fire Darts (they set the board aflame if you succeeded at a bullseye). With the money, he’d treated Sam, Kevin and Garth to a scoop of ice cream each from Honeydukes. He spent the whole day thinking about how it was the first Hogsmeade trip he’d been on without Castiel. And it sucked ass.
If it was anybody else sneaking in late and creeping around the Shrieking Shack doing Dragon Claw, maybe he’d report them. He ought to report Cas. As Head Boy, he shouldn’t be turning a blind eye. But it was Cas. Dean was going to let Cas get away with a lot more before he’d intervene by getting teachers involved.
‘You better be coming to my birthday party,’ Charlie interrupted Dean’s line of thought, waving a poster in front of his face. They were in their usual seats, the Common Room sofas opposite the fireplace; Charlie sat on the floor, feet warmed by the fire, Dean on the couch, legs spread across the cushions, and Benny curled up in his armchair to the side. The day had been long. Castiel hadn’t talked to Dean over meals, or during Herbology. Dean had found solitude by clinging to Charlie’s side like a lost puppy.
‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ he hummed, pushing Castiel out of his mind and accepting the parchment, scanning over the information. October 31st. Gryffindor Common Room. 10pm after Halloween Feast. Charlie Bradbury turns 18. DRESS CODE: HORROR!
‘How do I dress like horror?’ Dean grimaced. He tsk’d. ‘Can’t you do something simpler, like dress code: HOGWARTS STUDENT?’
‘Shut up.’ Charlie poked her tongue out at him. On the neighboring armchair, Benny sniggered. ‘Brother, you don’t have to change much to dress like a horror,’ he smirked. ‘Just keep your morning face on.’
Dean wrinkled his nose. ‘Thanks, angel. And what are you going as?’
Benny looked over, a slow smile spreading across his face, his teeth glinting. ‘Vampire, obviously,’ he drawled.
Dean’s stomach flipped. ‘Are you insane?’ he hissed. What was it with his friends flaunting around their secrets these days - what with Cas and the purple hair, now this? ‘People might - you know…’
Benny shrugged. ‘The best disguise is hidden in plain sight. No one will figure, any more than they ought to have from me being addicted to those Honeyduke Bloodsucker Lollipops.’ He pointedly pulled one out of the top pocket of his shirt, peeling the case off the lollipop and popping it into his mouth. He twirled it idly. ‘People see what they wanna see. And with me, they see a beautiful Quidditch Captain, with dashing good looks and a great sense of humor.’
‘Okay, okay. Deflate the ego for five minutes,’ Dean muttered. He looked back at Charlie. ‘I’ll go as a vamp too, then. Might as well be two of us. Shake the scent a little.’
Charlie rolled her eyes. ‘Unimaginative.’
‘Well, what are you going as?’
Charlie winked at that, standing up and sauntering off into the crowd in the Common Room. She tacked her party invitation onto the Common Room notice board, First Years immediately crowding round eagerly to read the board.
‘What are you going as for Charlie’s party?’ Dean asked Castiel a few days later, whilst the two of them were walking down to the Quidditch pitch for training. It was dusk, the sky beginning to cloud over with night. Most things felt different between the two of them, but at least (for now) Castiel was still willing to throw disenchanted Bludgers for Dean to bat. Dean had missed two lots of practice because he was on strike - refusing to wake up for team practice - and so he’d promised Benny he’d catch up by practicing in his own time. Before there was Benny, there had been Cas, throwing Bludgers for Dean since they’d been twelve years old and Dean had wanted to join the team.
Castiel shrugged. He threw another Bludger. Dean swung.
THWACK!
They watched as the ball hurtled off through the middle hoop. ‘Nice aim,’ Castiel said. ‘I don’t know what I’ll go as. I’m not entirely sure I can make it.’
Dean frowned, stretching his batting arm. ‘What are you talking about? It’s Charlie’s birthday.’
‘I know. I know it is - and I’ll talk to her, of course. It’s just… I agreed to go to the Shrieking Shack that night. With April.’
Dean’s stomach twisted. He pushed down on the broom, swooping back down to ground level. Before he’d even reached a low enough point, he was swinging his leg over his broom and marching over to Castiel. With a sudden rush of adrenaline, Dean pushed the other boy square in the chest. ‘Dude! You are messing with me. Right?’
Castiel stumbled back, looking shocked. He blinked. ‘I am not messing with you,’ he said simply, tone suddenly cool. ‘And I don’t appreciate being pushed.’
‘It’s Charlie’s fucking birthday - what’s so important about the Shrieking Shack? It’ll still be there every day afterward. Or is this just because April will be there - with, with drugs. And sex. Or whatever you two get up to.’
‘I said I’ll talk to Charlie. If she is upset with me, then I’ll try and rearrange - but I don’t need you to lecture me about what you think I should or shouldn’t be doing. Get back on the broom, Dean.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Dean scoffed. ‘You gotta be kidding. Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking back into the Castle at one o’clock last weekend, high as a kite, and now you’re gonna do it again?’
‘Get back on the broom, Dean.’
Dean shook his head. ‘No. Don’t make me pull rank on you, Cas.’
Castiel clenched his jaw, glaring at Dean. ‘You’re Head Boy. I get it.’
‘I’m not gonna cover for you forever, or turn a blind eye to this forever. April - she’s… she’s bad news, man, can’t you see that? You’re breaking every rule on the fucking planet, and for what?’
‘All you ever did was break the rules - you become Head Boy and now you’re wildly above breaking the rules? I’m not doing anything terrible - I’m going on a date, Dean. A date! It just happens to be on the 31st, and it just happens to be in the Shrieking Shack. I’m not getting high, not drinking, not fucking - I am going on a date. Plain as. Are you getting back on the broom or not?’
Dean snorted. ‘Not,’ he said shortly. He didn’t believe a word that came out of Castiel’s mouth. Didn’t even recognize the other boy. Especially not with his purple hair.
‘Right.’ Castiel nodded. He dropped the Bludger on the floor and turned around. ‘Good luck with the game this weekend,’ he said, glancing back, ‘I won’t be able to make that either. I said I’d work with Sprout to collect plant trimmings through the greenhouses.’
He didn’t look back as he sloped off to the broomstick shed. Dean just watched. ‘Your hair looks stupid like that,’ Dean spat. He wanted to upset Castiel. Wanted the other boy to get mad at him in return - to show a little care about him, even if it was just in rage. But Castiel still didn’t look back. Instead, his hair got brighter, a blinding lilac color spreading through his strands. He shot Dean a middle finger over his shoulder as he stormed into the shed, still saying nothing. Fucking hell. Dean wished he wasn’t this angry. He hated that they kept butting heads. It felt like everything was April’s fault. If she hadn’t started flirting with Cas, and if Cas hadn’t started - started icing him out, then none of this would be happening.
‘Aren’t you mad?’ Dean whispered angrily whilst he followed Charlie through the library the next day. She was returning some books, watching as they zoomed up to their rightful shelves. ‘He’s missing your party.’
‘He told me in good time,’ Charlie shrugged. ‘I won’t take it personally. He’s on a date, Dean. You’ve missed things for dates sometimes - nobody gets mad at you either.’
‘It’s a joke. He’s abandoning us, Charlie.’
Charlie laughed. ‘No, he’s not. He’s busy. Sprout is working him to the absolute maximum - I think he’s regretting signing up for her apprenticeship. And he’s been organizing Hogwart’s International Wizarding Chess Tournaments all term. You know students from as far as Mahoutokoro in Japan and Stjärnskola in Sweden are traveling here soon for his Tournament, just to compete against him. Have you even asked him about that?’ She looked at Dean, lips pursed. ‘He’s not just our friend, Dean. He’s basically April’s boyfriend now, like it or not. He’s Sprout’s apprentice. And he’s McGonagall’s Chess protegee. Cut him some slack. Okay?’
Dean shook his head. ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘He’s been weird ever since he started having those nightmares, and I don’t trust it. He’s different, Charlie. This whole year he’s been off. There’s something wrong, and I don’t like it. And if April -’ Dean lowered his voice, ‘-if April is getting in his pants by giving him drugs, then we oughta do something about it. Don’t you think?’
Charlie sighed. She let go of her final book. It dropped half a foot with gravity before floating up to the highest shelf in the library. She turned to face Dean then, arms crossing over her chest. ‘I’m not worried about Cas,’ she told him quietly. ‘He’s smart. He’s sensible. If he’s messing around with some girl and getting high, then just let him. Just for a while. He could do with the fun, yeah? All these years you’ve complained about him being up-tight, and now you don’t like it that he’s relaxing. Just for this week - can you two try and get along? Think of it as an extended birthday gift to me, alright?’
At that, Dean felt himself deflate. Maybe he was just being bullish and stubborn. Maybe Charlie was right - and Benny, too. Maybe Dean needed to relax, to let Castiel go his own way a little bit for once. And he’d try and be happy about it, even though it hurt like hell.
That weekend, Gryffindor played Slytherin. Benny had the team up and out of bed, on the pitch, at seven o’clock in the morning to train before the match. Dean complained profusely - ‘you’ll exhaust us before Hooch even blows the whistle!’ - and the rest of the team grumbled, too. The only player new to the team was Sam - the rest had been playing Quidditch together for years. James Potter had been a Chaser since his Third Year (Dean’s Fourth), Krissy Chambers since her Second, Alicia Banes since their Third (same year Dean joined), and Tessa Thompson had been Seeker four a good two years. Nobody needed to train. Nobody needed to be a team. Everyone liked each other, everyone got on, and in fact, nobody had contemplated mutiny before until this year, now that Benny had lost his mind.
They won the game. Unsurprising. But it was very close - and Slytherin were a brutal opposition. Dean took a Bludger to the face halfway through the game, but he hadn’t gotten off his broom to fix his nose, he’d insisted on carrying on, refusing a trip to the Hospital Wing once the game ended, and now - an hour after the Snitch had been caught - he’d started to regret that choice. Where was Cas? He really hadn’t come to the game. Hadn’t been in the crowd. Hadn’t even been in the Common Room for celebrations afterward.
Dean was sat in the Dormitory, his nose having started bleeding again from before, and he tried to ignore the ache in his chest that Castiel wasn’t around to fix his broken bone with the touch of his hand.
‘Episkey,’ Benny murmured a few minutes later having appeared in the Dormitory. He tapped Dean’s nose with the end of his wand. There was a rush of ice cold heat and Dean gasped as his nose realigned.
Benny passed him a tissue to wipe up the blood. ‘Figured you’d be up here,’ the Vampire said quietly, squatting down in front of where Dean was sat on the edge of the bed. ‘You should be downstairs, celebrating. We won, brother. You played - an’ I don’t say it often enough - but you played great out there. You and Sam. Did us proud.’
Dean just shrugged. His heart wasn’t in it. He wiped his nose and thanked Benny for the Healing spell. ‘I’ll come in a bit,’ he sighed. ‘Just gotta…’ He gestured at his face and rolled his eyes. ‘Clean up.’
Benny nodded, squeezing his knee as he stood up. He was a little scratched up himself. He stank of sweat, and there was a cut on his eyebrow from catching the Quaffle a little too keenly. He really ought to wash before celebrating, but Dean knew that wouldn’t be the case. ‘Come down soon, though, yeah?’ Benny said softly. ‘I ain’t gonna lie to you, Dean, but…’ He shook his head. ‘Pining ain’t a good look on you.’
With that, he left. And Dean ignored the twist of anger in his gut at Benny’s words - they were well meaning, maybe, but it rubbed Dean up the wrong way. He wasn’t pining. He wasn't.