A Spooky Halloween Birthday Party
When Charlie’s birthday party rolled around a couple weeks later, Dean tried his hardest to cheer up. Castiel had started spending more and more time with Raphael - he got on well with April, apparently - and the two of them would eat at the Slytherin table alongside April Kelly and her friends there. It made Dean’s stomach turn - Castiel came from a long line of Slytherins. He was the first to be placed in Gryffindor. He hadn’t liked it much at the start, and now Dean was worried his friend had started wishing he was a Slytherin all over again - it was like seven years of progress was undone overnight.
Castiel didn’t join for the Hallowe’en Feast. For the first time ever, Dean didn’t eat his body weight in pumpkin pies, and he wasn’t the last person to leave the table. He left early to help Charlie decorate the Common Room, bewitching Jack O Lanterns to float above the ceiling, and casting giant spider webs across the walls. There was a cauldron hanging over the fireplace, filled with bubbling pumpkin juice, warm and well spiced with cinnamon and clementines. Dean flicked his wand in the direction of the gramophone in the corner of the room and The Weird Sisters began playing, filling up every corner of the room.
He grinned. Everything was perfect.
Dean and Benny dressed in the Dormitory, using talcum powder to dye their cheeks and faces as pale as possible (not that Benny needed too much), before pushing some fake fangs into their mouths. Benny’s own fangs were filed down annually, so weren’t very impressive compared to the gummy false ones the two of them had bought from Zonko’s earlier that term. They wore matching white shirts and dark robes with the collars turned all the way up. It was an impressive outfit, really. The two of them looked, all spookiness aside, quite good. If Dean was being honest.
It was ten o’clock. Charlie’s party was already in full swing by the time they stepped into the Common Room. Dean was instantly handed a goblet of warmed pumpkin juice by Alicia Banes, who sidled up to him with a smile.
‘You look great,’ she told Dean over the music.
The Weird Sisters had died out now, replaced by Bewitched Rejects, a newer band that Dean didn’t listen too much.
He scrunched up his nose at the wailing but smiled at Alicia. ‘You do, too!’ he called back, eyeing up her ghost outfit. Her sleek white dress was stunning against her tanned skin. She was - yeah, Dean had to admit it, she was beautiful. He barely noticed on the Quidditch pitch, too busy diving to stop Bludgers from knocking her off her broom. But here now, in the dimmed light of the Common Room, all dressed up for a party, Dean couldn’t help but notice that puberty had hit Alicia Banes like a truck.
‘You know,’ Alicia said, stepping closer. Into Dean’s space. She tilted her head, a hand reaching to smooth Dean’s collar. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d like to dance?’
Dean swallowed. He opened his mouth to reply before taking a swig of his pumpkin juice. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said weakly, ‘but I gotta go - uh… find Charlie…’
He stepped into the hustle of the crowd then, feeling guilty for the way he’d turned Alicia down. Max Banes was off in some other corner of the room hitting on some Sixth Year guy - Sirius Black, probably, and Dean told himself the reason he’d turned down Alicia was because he didn’t want any drama between him and Max when the romance inevitably went up in flames. It had nothing to do with anything else at all.
Dean found Charlie by the snack table, the music even louder in this corner of the Common Room. ‘Holy shit,’ Dean cried out when he saw her. ‘Charlie, you look amazing!’
Charlie was dressed like a - well… a literal knight in shining armour. She had a metal breastplate on over the top of a deep crimson red tunic, with a dark cloak. Atop her red hair nestled a golden crown. She curtseyed when she saw Dean, tipping her head.
‘Why thank you, Mr Vampire, sir,’ she acknowledged, her voice clipped and refined. It was then that she drew out a sword from her side and pressed the blunt end of it to Dean’s chest. ‘But I’m afraid I must slay you - foul beast - for breaking the hearts of too many young men and women!’
Dean blinked, holding his hands up. It took him a moment before he realised Charlie was joking, and then he laughed (nervously at first). ‘Oh, ahhh, yes. Ahhh! Apologies your highness, my bad…’ He leaned forward. ‘I thought you said the theme was horror?’ he hissed so only Charlie could hear. Around them the few spectators they had were applauding, laughing at Charlie’s skit.
‘It is horror,’ Charlie grinned. ‘But I’m the hero who saves the day.’ Then louder, she said, ‘Now begone, vile monster! And fetch me more wine!’ She winked, passing Dean her empty goblet.
Dean rolled his eyes and moved to the pumpkin juice cauldron, refilling Charlie’s cup before flicking his wand and sending it floating back her way. He’d let her have her little power trip for the night. It was her birthday after all. He’d give her his present tomorrow - a new pair of Dragonhide gloves after her last pair got chewed up in Herbology due to a particularly vicious Venus Crupp Trap earlier that term.
A hand landed on the small of Dean’s back then, and he jolted, looking back round. It was Alicia. She withdrew her hand quickly and shot him an apologetic smile, even as she blinked at him from beneath her lashes, looking innocent and sweet. Attractive. ‘Dean - I wanted to apologise,’ she said, sounding genuinely concerned. ‘For before. If I made you uncomfortable.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ Dean started, but Alicia was carrying on.
‘No - it was rude of me. Presumptious. I don’t have feelings for you,’ she said quietly with a laugh, ‘I was hitting on you because usually, you’re down for that sort of thing. The No Strings Attached thing. But I’m sorry - in retrospect, it didn’t seem like the right time and place for you.’
Dean wasn’t sure how that apology was meant to make anything better. In fact, it made things a little worse. ‘Down for… what?’ he mumbled, his cheeks heating up. He decided to be blunt. ‘Alicia, I have way too much respect for you off and on the pitch to use you as a hookup. Right now, or ever. I’m sorry if past-me ever acted otherwise, but I’m not looking for anything - I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, see you at practice tomorrow, yeah?’
And with that, he slipped back into the crowd, kicking himself. He’d talked a load of crap. In any other circumstances if Alicia Banes was giving him the once over, screw Max, Dean would’ve taken that opportunity and run with it. But now he started feeling queasy at the idea of pulling anyone, especially just because they knew he’d be game. And especially when his brain was so addled in worry about Castiel.
He spent most of the party bouncing between the cauldron of pumpkin juice and the snack table, chatting occasionally with people every so often. James Potter was there with his friends - Petticoat or something, Sirius Black, and Reuben Lupin? Dean couldn’t remember their names. He talked with Potter for a while though about Quidditch tactics and how the Chudley Cannons were doing that year. Potter wanted girl advice, for Lily Evans. Dean felt queasy again and said he wasn’t the right guy to come to for that sort of thing.
And so the night went on. And on. And on.
By midnight, Dean had to accept that Castiel wasn’t coming. That he’d missed Charlie’s party for a date.
It was near two o’clock when Dean became the buzzkill of the party, twitching his wand and shutting off the music, blowing out all the Jack O Lanterns with a swoosh!
‘Right!’ Dean called out. ‘Everyone to bed, stragglers, party’s over! It’s a school night!’
God, Dean hated being Head Boy sometimes. He was shot a cutting look from some moody Second Years whilst everyone slinked away to their beds. Charlie hugged Dean tightly before she went to bed, and Benny clapped him on the shoulder.
‘You comin’ up, brother?’ he asked, but Dean shook his head. He said he’d be up soon, but he wanted to spend some time tidying the Common Room first. It was a lie.
Dean tidied a little, but mostly he sat in front of the fire, checking his watch and checking the Portrait Hole. He wiped the talcum powder and fake blood off his face and sighed. If Castiel wasn’t accounted for by four o’clock in the morning, then Dean was going to report it to McGonagall. He wasn’t going to go to bed until his friend was safe. What if he’d gotten stuck in the Shrieking Shack somehow? Or worse - taken too much Dragon Claw and was comatose somewhere? Dean swallowed, trying to fight back the panic in his chest.
At 3:45AM, right before Dean could send for McGonagall, the Portrait Door opened. Dean stood up. Lumos, he thought, and the lights brightened, but still he couldn’t see a figure.
‘Castiel?’ Dean said slowly. ‘Cas.’
In front of him, on the other side of the sofa, Castiel materialised piece by piece. Dean chewed the insides of his cheeks. ‘Nifty trick there, Cas,’ he said hollowly. Castiel pushed his hands into his pockets and tilted his head. Dean could see from here that the other boy’s eyes were red, pupils dilated.
‘Why are you awake, Dean?’ Castiel asked, the words languid from his mouth.
‘Someone had to make sure you got back alive after your date.’
Castiel scoffed, rolling his head back and sighing up at the ceiling. ‘Riiiiiight,’ he drawled. ‘Because you’re so worried about me. I forgot.’
‘What’s gotten into you, Cas? You used to care about more than just yourself.’
‘Hm,’ was all Castiel said, making for the Dormitory. Like nothing Dean said even mattered to him.
‘You’ve changed,’ Dean muttered under his breath.
Castiel paused in the doorway. He turned around and fixed Dean with a steely look - as steely as he could probably manage with Merlin knows how much Dragon Claw he had pumping through his veins. ‘What did you say?’
Dean straightened up. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. ‘I said you’ve changed,’ he repeated, stronger now. ‘The Cas I knew wouldn’t be letting some girl take over every aspect of his life - he wouldn’t be sneaking off to snort Dragon Claw every other night. He wouldn’t miss Quidditch matches and not even show up for the afterparty - or ask how it went. And he definitely wouldn’t have planned a date on Charlie’s birthday. She might not be mad at you - but I sure as hell am.’
At this, Castiel pressed his lips together. ‘What do you want from me, Dean?’ he said then, his voice rough and strained. He stepped forward, into Dean’s space, and tilted his head. Dean didn’t waver, meeting Castiel’s eyes without hesitation. ‘I’ve grown up, okay? We’ve grown up. Things like Quidditch, or Hallowe’en parties - that stuff is for kids, and we weren’t gonna stay kids forever. I wasn’t going to stay as your sidekick forever. I’ve got my own friends now, and my own life. You’re just - you’re just jealous that for once in my life I’ve got the girl. Not you. And you’re mad at me because I might not need you anymore, not like I used to. And maybe I want to wear my hair purple. Maybe I want everyone to know what I can do - that I can change my body at will, fix bones with a touch, break them with even less. Maybe people should know that about me, because then maybe people - you - would show me more respect. Instead of bossing me around all the time, judging me for everything I do that’s different to what you want.’
Dean clenched his jaw. ‘What the hell are you saying, man?’ he pushed. ‘Are you that fuckin’ whipped, is April that good of a shag that you’d be saying all of this to me?’
‘Stop blaming April. This isn’t April.’ His voice was low now. Meaningful. ‘You only started needing me the second you didn’t have me 24/7, you only started caring about me when I started caring about someone else - and maybe April is right about you. That you don’t even view me as a person, you just view me as an extension of you. That’s why you’re so angry right now.’
‘You’re just high.’
‘I’m not high. I was high. Now I’m just honest. And I’m not gonna let you talk down to me anymore - you don’t know anything about me, not now.’
At this, Dean almost laughed. He shook his head and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. Heat rushed up his body and his eyes stung. ‘If that’s how you really feel, then yeah. Maybe you should go,’ he said at last, voice hard. ‘But don’t you dare say I didn’t care about you.’ His words were louder than intended. Harsher. He jabbed at finger into Castiel’s chest, the anger raw in his words. ‘Don’t you say that. You’re my best friend. You’ve always been my best friend - and I don’t… I don’t care that you’re growing up, or that we’re not kids anymore. I care that you’re growing up, and that you’re doing it without me. Without us. Benny. Charlie. We’re your friends. And you’ve been acting weird since the day we got back to Hogwarts - don’t think I haven’t noticed. You have nightmares, constantly, I can tell you’ve started hiding your eyebags too, now. Maybe April is the cause, or maybe she’s just the excuse, but you’ve been pushing us away all term and I’m just here, trying to look out for you, whilst everyone else says I should leave you to make your own fucking mistakes… Well. Screw me, and screw the rest. Just do what you fucking want. But don’t say I never cared about our friendship - because it’s not me who’s walking out on it right now, it’s you.’
Castiel’s jaw visibly clenched. His hair turned a deep, deep green. He looked nauseating. ‘I’m going,’ he said then, pushing past Dean in the direction of the Common Room door again, away from the stairs.
‘Oh, yeah. And where are you gonna sleep?’
‘Anywhere else. Anywhere is better than here.’
‘You’re gonna wander round the castle on your own, out of hours, high still? Oh, well, that sounds like a genius plan.’
‘What do you care, Dean?’
Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm, stopping him just as he reached the Portrait Hole. ‘If you walk out that door, just know this is the last time I cover for your ass,’ he told Castiel firmly. ‘You leave now, then that’s it. We’re done. It’s over.’
Castiel paused. He didn’t look at Dean, he looked at the Portrait Hole firmly. Dean could see a vein pulsing in the other boy’s head. And then, with far more force than was necessary, Castiel yanked his arm from Dean’s grip and pushed the Portrait Hole open, climbing through and out to the hallway beyond. Dean swallowed, a lump as hard as stone lodged in his throat. It felt like he had just watched Castiel step off the side of a cliff, dropping out of their shared timeline forever.
The next day, Dean tried to recount the event to Charlie and Benny in vague detail beside the Black Lake. He stood in the water, knee-deep, despite the chill of November causing his skin to prickle with goosebumps, and he threw stones across the surface of the lake with far too much force, watching as they kicked up a spray of water with every impact.
‘He said something about me not caring about him until he’d gone and got new friends,’ Dean said, voice thick. ‘And that he wasn’t gonna be my sidekick forever. And some bull about how people ought to know he’s powerful - that he’s a You-Know-What, and can do god knows what. And I’m just jealous, or something. I mean - jealous? I’m not jealous. I’m - I’m hurt. I’m mad. I’m… ’
Charlie and Benny were mostly silent during Dean’s rant. They let him go on and on, without interruption. It was only when Dean’s voice broke at the end of his speech that he felt the water get disturbed around him. Charlie was wading into the Lake carefully, the ends of her robes catching against the surface of the water. She wrapped her arms around Dean and pulled him into a tight hug. ‘Come here,’ she rubbed his back and Dean crumbled, burying his head into Charlie’s neck. He clung to her front, and a moment later, he felt the warm presence of a chest pressing against his back. ‘I got you, brother,’ he heard the gruff, mellow tone of Benny’s voice. He felt it reverberate against him. The two of them hugged him tight, their bodies warm enough that Dean barely even felt the iciness of the water he was standing in anymore.
‘All due respect,’ Benny mumbled a moment later, words still muffled into Dean’s shoulder, ‘but Cas is talking a load of crap.’ He leaned back, hand moving to pat Dean’s shoulder. ‘You guys have been friends since day one - since before we started getting along, and before you and Charlie, even. Anyone can see you care about him, the way you care about all your friends.’
‘You’re a good friend, Dean,’ Charlie reinforced. ‘None of this sounds like Cas - and maybe you’re right… like, maybe April - and even Raphael - are influencing him in the worst way. But he’s gotta figure that out on his own, you can’t try telling him because the more you try to talk him out of it, the more he’s going to push against you.’
‘Let him make his mistakes,’ Benny chimed in. ‘I know it’s painful. But you’re not on your own, brother. You have me and Charlie-’
‘-Max and Alicia-’
‘-Sammy, too. All your family. Kevin. Eileen.’
‘Okay,’ Dean interrupted with a wet laugh, ‘appreciate it, Benny, but listing my brother’s friends makes me sound even more pathetic than I feel.’ He smiled, and Benny offered him a sloping grin in return.
‘I’m just saying, Cas may be your best friend, but he’s not your only friend. And right now he ain’t being much of a friend at all. Let him go make his mistakes, find out what’s real and what ain’t, and if he comes back… you can still be there for him, or you can look the other way.’
Dean nodded. He rubbed his eyes. ‘God, look at me,’ he mumbled. ‘Crying like a girl.’
At this, Charlie shot him a particularly painful elbow in the rib. ‘You’ll be crying like something in a minute,’ she teased, ‘now let’s get out of this water before I get frostbite on every single toe.’
‘Guys,’ Dean started, before they head back out of the water. He caught Benny’s forearm. Benny and Charlie looked at him, equal levels concerned and cold. Dean swallowed. It had been playing on his mind for weeks. ‘You don’t think there’s something else going on, do you?’ he asked quietly. ‘Like, Cas and his nightmares. Him going on and on about his powers. He was worried, months ago, about You-Know-Who finding out about his powers, and now it’s almost like he’s flaunting them. So, I don’t know, maybe I’m just paranoid, but…’
Charlie shook her head. ‘I don’t think you’re paranoid,’ she said quietly. ‘But I also don’t have any idea what it could be, and I don’t see any way of finding out until Cas comes to us himself and explains what’s going on. If something is going on.’
Dean thinks about that. And he ignores it.
He goes back to the Boy’s Dormitory early that evening and decides to rifle through Castiel’s bedside table. The picture of his brothers has been taken down from the wall, but thankfully the one of him and Dean still remains - it gives Dean a sliver of hope that maybe not all was lost. At the bottom of Castiel’s sock drawer, tucked away at the very back, was a stash of letters, tied tightly with a string. Dean licks his lip and glances over his shoulder. Nobody was around.
Carefully he peels one of the letters out from the stash and flattens it in his hands. It’s addressed to an Emmanuel, sent from someone called Shurley.
Who the hell was Shurley? And why the hell was Castiel receiving letters under the name Emmanuel? As far as Dean could remember, it might’ve been his middle name.
The letter read as follows;
Emmanuel,
No word on Luke. We will tell you if we hear anything, okay? Do not worry. The visions you’re having are just visions - but it’s best to keep them to yourself. Do not tell your friends. Do not tell your Professors. You will only worry them further.
As for laying low about your powers - it is absolutely the best plan. I understand your frustration - that hiding is hard, lying is harder, trying to stop You Know Who from knowing is difficult. But I promise you, Emmanuel, the longer you can hide your gifts, the better for all of us.
Stay safe.
Shurley
Dean swallowed. He felt awful for reading that. Not that it made a huge amount of sense to him - he could figure as much that everyone mentioned in the letter was being called by a code name, but he couldn’t decipher who Shurley or Luke were.
Despite the guilt he felt, Dean pressed on. He pushed the letters back into the sock drawer and moved one drawer lower, to where Castiel kept his boxers. He rummaged through them for a moment before finding a small, hand sized journal. It was the one Dean had got him for his birthday two years ago, with his initials carved on the front; CEN. Castiel Emmanuel Novak. That confirmed it. Dean flicked through the most recent entries, skimming every other page with haste. He could hear footsteps on the stairs.
… Dean cannot know… I feel guilt for not being forthcoming with my friends… I wish Voldemort knew already, because then at least … wouldn’t have to hide… tired of this… every night is worse… April is fresh air amidst a cloud of smoke…
Dean’s heart stopped. He flicked back a page and read it again. April is fresh air amidst a cloud of smoke. He swallowed, snapping the journal shut and shoving it into the drawer again. He had just managed to closer the drawers tidily when the Dormitory door opened. Dean leapt over to his own bed, jumping onto it hastily. Castiel was there, in the doorway.
Fuck. Dean distracted his mind - anything to throw Castiel off his scent, just in case the other boy was scanning him like a barcode. Gardens, he thought firmly. Dragons breathing fire. I love Common Welsh dragons. I love all dragons. Dragons are the best. Dragons are great. Fire. Lots of fire. Smoke. April is fresh air amidst a cloud of smoke.
The thought was there before Dean could help it. He swallowed. He watched, heart sinking, as Castiel’s eyes flickered to the bedside table. I am the worst friend in the world. And I am so sorry.
He wished he was better at Occlumens. Wished he could feel whether Castiel was rattling around in his head or not - and he hated that he didn’t trust that Castiel wasn’t. Usually he would be fine with Cas rummaging around his brain - what did he have to hide from his best friend? Now he wished he could put a strong wall between them both. Forever.
Castiel moved over to the bedside table. The drawers opened by themselves, the socks leaping out of the way as the journal and stack of letters threw themselves out of the drawers. They hovered over the palms of Castiel’s hands and Dean watched silently as every page in the journal shredded itself, and every letter turned to ash. Without a word, or even acknowledgement of his existence, Castiel then reached under his bed for his robes, pulled them on, and stalked out of the Dormitory once more.
Dean chewed the inside of his lip, sinking into his duvet with the terrible feeling of someone who had just been caught out on every lie he’d ever told. Not only had he snooped through Castiel’s things, and been caught, but he’d barely learned anything to justify it. And now there was no way in hell Castiel would ever forgive him.