The Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

November was always a hard month for Dean. It held bad anniversaries, made even worse this year by new bad anniversaries that he’d be remembering for years to come.

November 2nd felt like the right time to finally finish his personal statement and have McGonogall read it. He was sat in her office, numb and raw all in one, watching as her pale eyes scanned the parchment he had handed to her.

Dear Professor Alasdair Moody,
Head Auror at the Minstry for Magic,

My name is Dean Winchester. I am a half blood. My mother was Mary Campbell, born of the Campbell family - a Pureblood family who were prominent in the Ministry as a family of Aurors. The Campbells were among the first Wizarding families to be targeted by Lord Voldemort - he arranged for the murder of my grandparents, any aunts of uncles I may have had, and for my mother and father. Death Eaters came to my home when I was four years old and murdered my Muggle father and my Auror mother. I was there. I remember the flames. I remember the light. The screams. I remember taking my little brother outside as fast as I could and running - just running. No looking back.

I wondered for a long time why I survived that night. Why the Death Eaters didn’t come after me and my brother and kill us there and then. I thought - maybe they were human enough to spare children? And then I realized - they didn’t even view us as a threat enough worth taking care of. To them, we probably wouldn’t make it through the night. But we did make it. We were raised by Bobby Singer, renowned Dark Objects Identifier and Destroyer. He taught me everything I ever needed to know before I came to Hogwarts. I was casting spells by memory by the time I hit double digits, easy.

And every single choice I have ever made since I was four has been to become a fighter - to become strong. I was only four when my parents died, and I wished I could’ve saved them. Now that I’m seventeen, I know I could’ve, because there’s no way I would ever lose. It’s not just about skills, or chance, it’s about your mindset, your mentality. I want to beat the bad guys now that I am old enough to. I don’t want any more kids to grow up like I did. I don’t want He Who Must Not Be Named to take more parents from children. And I will win - because I’ve felt what losing feels like, and I refuse to ever experience that again.

I am currently studying five N.E.W.Ts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology. I am top of my class in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms. I am currently Head Boy, which has allowed me to excel in a leadership role. And I have been Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team since my Third Year; a position which causes me to think on the spot, use strength and skill above all else, and work as a team and for my team. All of these skills are transferable and would be greatly beneficial to any candidate going forward in your Auror Training Programme.

I have attached my grades. I appreciate you taking the time to read my statement, and hope to hear from you soon.

Regards,
Dean Winchester
Head Boy

McGonagall sat back in her chair, adjusting her glasses. She was silent for some time.

‘Well,’ she said finally. ‘I should think that just about covers it.’

‘Is it any good?’

‘Rather excellent, I should say.’ She smiled at Dean, a rare one filled with pride. ‘Marvellous work. Maybe you could mention which areas of Defence Against the Dark Arts you excel at - I know you’ve worked very hard to produce an admirable Patronus over the years…’

Dean nodded, noting it down in his journal. ‘Yes. Yeah. Good idea.’

She made a couple more suggestions and they talked back and forth, candidly, about what Dean had written. McGonagall seemed fairly confident Dean would make the cut - that his words were compelling enough and showed the mindset of a true fighter.

‘Now, Winchester,’ McGonagall said finally as Dean packed away his things. ‘On a less academic note - how are you?’

Dean stopped. He was taken aback at the question. Personal questions had never been raised before. He hovered, his book halfway back in his bag. ‘I’m good, Professor,’ he said slowly. ‘Just peachy.’

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. ‘I know this time of the year must be hard for you and your brother. I would like to extend, as I do annually, my condolences for your loss.’

‘Thank you,’ Dean said quietly, sliding the book into the bag all the way and buckling the straps. He stood up and slung the bag over his shoulder, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

‘Also,’ McGonagall continued. ‘You’ve seemed distracted lately. I thought you ought to know - I’ve taught you for many years now. I will support you to the best of my abilities in all of your academic pursuits, but I am also here for you to aid you in any personal endeavors, should you need me.’

Dean flushed. ‘That’s awful nice of you, Professor,’ he smiled. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

His mood did improve temporarily after his meeting with McGonagall, but - as with everything else in Dean’s life at present - his happiness did not last forever. He and Castiel were officially not on speaking terms anymore. Castiel hung out with Charlie in handfuls, but mostly spent his time with April; presumably getting high - not that Dean knew this for sure anymore. Castiel, of course, would no longer be telling him when he planned on getting high. If he was still getting high.

November dragged. More so than any other November before. Dean spent most of his time in the library with Charlie, watching the rain slash against the windows, or on the Quidditch pitch with Benny, freezing his toes off. He stopped going to Hogsmeade on the weekends, finding it more depressing to not be going with Castiel than it was to just sit in the Castle and wait for Charlie and Benny to get back. They would sneak him a bottle of Butterbeer, or some sugar quills from Honeydukes. It didn’t entirely curb Dean’s sadness, but it helped.

It wasn’t until the end of November that the spirit across the Castle started to improve. Dean was glad Autumn was finally on its way out - a transitional season that didn’t know what it was, truly, or what it wanted - and Winter started weedling its way in. He liked Winter. He knew where he was at with Winter. He knew that it would be cold enough (consistently) to wear his robes, a jumper, and a woolly hat outside, without needing to spend the day delayering and relayering constantly.

On December 1st the students awoke to the Castle decked in Christmas decor, rotund Christmas trees dotting the halls and classrooms, and suits of armor donning Christmas hats and tinsel. The Great Hall was decorated with Christmas trees, near-perpetual snow drifting down from the enchanted ceiling. Everywhere you looked across the Castle there was mistletoe, holly, ivy, baubles, flying St Nicks, bewitched gingerbread men, nutcrackers, dancing angel statues… you name it, Hogwarts had it. The Castle was alive with the new season, and it caused Dean to almost skip with joy. Term was nearly over. He’d survived his first term of Seventh Year. Soon he’d be finishing up his end of term tests, and then he’d be whisked back down to Bobby Singer’s Yard, to spend the holiday curled up on the couch with his dogs and some Eggnog. Excellent.

Dean was happy with that notion - until he had heard who Castiel was going to Slughorn’s Winter Solstice Dance with that year. The dance was held during the first weekend of December, and Castiel was taking April. Of course it was April - Dean wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. Maybe he’d hoped, idly, that giving Castiel some space - not talking to him, not studying with him, hanging with him, or even looking at him - might’ve caused the other boy to reconsider his choices that term. But no. He’d decided to stick to his guns and choose April over Dean every step of the way. And Dean complained like no one’s business to Charlie about it at every single opportunity he got.

‘Dude. Can you stop talking about Cas,’ Charlie snapped at last. They were in the library. Studying was tense, and Dean couldn’t focus. He’d interrupted Charlie’s third attempt at starting her essay, for the fifth time, in order to grumble about Castiel and his poor life choices. ‘We get it, Dean, you’re sad. You’ve lost a friend. To a girl. But it’s getting… it’s getting obsessive. Cas has been weird with all of us this term, but he isn’t actually doing anything wrong by dating April and I’m tired of being in the middle of you two.’

Dean swallowed, thoroughly taken aback. He pursed his lips and straightened up, pushing his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook to one side. ‘What d’you mean, in the middle of us two? Is he bitchin’ about me to you? Because, honestly, I don’t see what he’d have to bitch about, I’ve only ever tried to look out for him.’

Charlie sighed, putting her quill in her ink pot and sitting back in her seat. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Dean blinked at her stupidly. She rolled her eyes. ‘You hit puberty last year, Dean. You turned sixteen and seventeen, you grew three inches, developed shoulder muscles, or whatever it is people find attractive in guys, and you stopped looking like a pre-teen turned teen. Lisa Braeden, Quidditch Beater Extraordinaire started paying attention to you even though she was a “Seventh year” and “way outta your league”. Bela Talbot and you started having “angry, hot sex in the Prefects bathroom”. Anna Milton was obsessed with you and kissed you on the Quidditch pitch in front of the whole school before you told her “it wouldn’t work out, we’re too different”. You took Cassie Robinson out to Madam Puddlefoot’s for Valentine’s then dumped her the next day. And-’

‘-Okay, okay,’ Dean hissed, interrupting with a grumble of exasperation. He covered his face with his book and shot Charlie a scowl from under the pages. ‘What’s your point, Charlie?’

‘The point is,’ Charlie said with a slow sigh, ‘is that Cas was at your side through all of it. Watching. And I was right there with him, for every time he felt miserable. Every time he watched other people have something he wouldn’t ever get. Every time he watched you fall in love with a girl overnight before throwing it all away and come bouncing back to him. I told him to get a grip. Alright? I told him to do his own thing this term - to go out there and grab the bull by the horns. And now what do I get? I get you, having the exact same meltdown Cas spent all last year having. And I’m tired of it, alright? It’s like I can’t win with you to. So. Talk it out with him, knucklehead, because right now I love you, but I have got to study and you have got to sort yourself out. On your own.’

Dean swallowed, sitting back in his seat. He nodded dumbly, picking at the corner of his empty parchment. He had an essay to start writing, same as Charlie, but everything felt meaningless. Even so, he pushed his stupid troubles to one side and dipped his quill in his ink, starting with the date and title of his essay.

Half an hour passed before either of them spoke again. It was Dean who broke the silence. ‘Hey, Charlie,’ he mumbled. She looked up, peering at him through her bangs. ‘I’m sorry for being an ass,’ Dean said sheepishly. ‘You must get a lot of emotionally repressed bullshit, being best mates with three guys.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Charlie said with an eye roll. ‘Benny isn’t any trouble at all.’

At this, Dean smiled faintly. Something was playing over in his mind though. Every time he watched other people have something he would never get. What the hell had Charlie meant by that? ‘Who are you going to the Ball with, by the way?’

Charlie twisted her mouth to the side and shrugged. ‘No one,’ she admitted. She glanced across the library to where a group of Ravenclaw girls were sitting. Her cheeks flushed. Maybe that was why this was her favourite spot in the library? ‘Nobody’s asked me.’

Dean frowned. He nodded over at the girls. ‘Which one is she?’ he asked with a wink.

Charlie flushed harder than before, her cheeks matching the color of her hair. Dean had spent this term being so self-absorbed that he hadn’t even noticed Charlie might have started crushing on someone. ‘It’s no one,’ she mumbled, looking stubbornly back at her papers.

‘Noooo,’ Dean whined. He kicked her under the table. ‘Which one? Tell me.’

‘Okay, it’s Dorothy. It’s still Dorothy,’ she squeaked quietly. ‘Dorothy Baum, the tall one with the hair in the plait. I-just-think-she’s-really-pretty-but-I-don’t-know-if-she’s-gay. And we’ve been going on these Hogsmeade trips together, and doing study sessions in the library together - but I can’t tell if it’s as good mates, or something more. And I heard she’s going to Slughorn’s dance because her father is Frank Baum, the famous historian, so Slugsy adores her.’

Dean looked over, eyes flicking Dorothy a once-over. She was pretty. Charlie had good taste, he’d give her that. ‘Do you wanna go with me to the ball?’ Dean asked then, turning back around to Charlie, his arms crossed over the desk. ‘I’ll wingman you for Dorothy. You’ll stop me from throwing a drink at April. We’ll both get to goggle as Benny makes a tit of himself in front of Andrea. Sounds like a good deal, right?’

Charlie grinned. ‘Okay. Right. I’m in.’ She extended a hand. Dean shook it.

‘Love you, kiddo,’ he muttered, dipping his quill in his ink as the two of them settled back into work mode.

The dance came whirring round the corner quicker than anyone could have anticipated.

It was Slughorn’s elitist ball, held only for students he wanted to collect. Charlie made the cut, because she was top at Potions, and so was thoroughly adored by Slughorn. Dean made the cut because he was Head Boy. Benny made the cut because he was on the cusp of his Puddlemere United contract. And Castiel made the cut because he was the seventh son of a seventh son - and Slughorn loved family sets. Claimed he’d collected every single one of Castiel’s brothers and Uncles. He’d regularly expressed his disappointment that Castiel had been sorted into Gryffindor, ruining his streak.

Charlie dressed for the occasion in the boy’s Dormitory with Benny, Cas, and Dean. Dean helped Benny straighten his bow tie. Charlie helped Castiel gel back his hair. Benny - well, Benny mostly panicked about whether he looked good enough to have a girl like Andrea on his arm. He’d been freaking out about it ever since she’d agreed to go with him.

‘Absolutely,’ Dean reassured him, as Castiel said, ‘Of course.’

It had been a while since they’d all hung out as a group. Castiel and Dean didn’t talk to each other directly, but they kept up pretenses for Charlie and Benny’s sakes. It was nice though. In a way, it felt like old times. Castiel smiled easier than Dean had seen all term. He looked smart in his formal robes with his hair slicked back and his bow tie causing his eyes to stand out. Charlie had a glorious pantsuit on, matching with the boys with a bow tie and dark robes. The four of them lined up inside the Dormitory and set up a camera. It flashed, producing a picture of the four of them, their hands all clasped at their fronts, their smiles equal levels of excitement and restraint. Dean couldn’t even pick out who looked the best of the bunch. They all looked amazing. In their element.

They entered the dance together, held in Slughorn’s extensively sized Office. Castiel found April immediately, whilst Benny waited for Andrea at the bottom of the spiral staircase outside Slughorn’s Office. He looked whipped already and they hadn’t ever even gone on a date yet. In fact, Dean had never seen Benny be so polite and gentlemanly as when he bowed his head and held out a hand for Andrea as she reached the bottom step.

The dance was in full swing when they entered, fashionably late as a group. The lights were low, Celestina Warbeck resounding around the room, before soft jazz overtook the music. A handful of Professors had joined the party, differing elements of impressed, whilst only the most select (and usually obnoxious) of students were dancing in the middle of the room, mulled wine being traded across the student body, mistletoe enchanted to find the occasional dancing couple and hover pointedly over their heads. It was a great game, watching who was the next mistletoe target.

Dean danced with Charlie for most of the night, swirling her around back and forth whilst Benny slow danced with Andrea and Castiel presumably left to suck face with April somewhere. Charlie was great fun, as usual, though. They picked at every mince pie available at the confectionary table - and Dean snuck some whiskey into their alcohol-free glasses of mulled wine. It was some time before they were both too tired to stay standing, let alone dancing, so he pulled Charlie off to a chair by one of the walls. There was a chocolate fountain on a table nearby. Dean grabbed some sticks, stabbed some marshmallows and strawberries, soaked them in melted chocolate before settling down next to Charlie and offering her the plate. I Get Along Without You Very Well (Except Sometimes), a Muggle tune, was playing over the gramophone. Dean tried to ignore the lyrics as he scanned the crowd, half keeping an eye out for Castiel and April.

‘Cheers,’ Charlie managed through a thick mouthful of chocolate and marshmallow.

Dean just nodded. He looked back at the dancefloor. There were so many happy faces, bright and excited. So many first kisses being traded back and forth throughout the room.

‘Have you spotted Dorothy yet?’ Dean asked, voice raised to be heard over the music. Charlie just shook her head, reaching for another marshmallow stick.

‘Haven’t seen her even once,’ she said with a sigh.

Dean looked over and scanned the crowd. Dorothy. Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy. Where was she? ‘Oh, there - there!’ he said excitedly, tugging at Charlie’s robe sleeve and pointing to the left of where they were sat. ‘She’s just-’ he caught himself, voice trailing. Oh. Balls.

Dorothy was there alright. But she was occupied by slow dancing with Slytherin Quidditch Captain, Gordon Walker. Charlie just managed to follow where Dean was pointing, right in time to watch Gordon lean in and kiss Dorothy steadily, like they’d done it a thousand times before. Dean cursed under his breath.

‘Charlie,’ he started, not sure what he was even intending to say. He glanced at his friend, but Charlie was already standing up.

‘Excuse me. I have to go vomit,’ she said abruptly, pushing the plate of marshmallows into Dean’s chest and stepping into the crowd of dancers.

Dean tried to catch Charlie’s sleeve, but she was gone. ‘Charlie,’ he hissed. ‘Charlie, come back.’ He pushed through the crowd, trying to follow where Charlie had disappeared to. There was a queue for the ladies' loo across the hall, and Dean couldn’t see her there, and he couldn’t see her in the hallway either. Fuck.

The spiral staircase was off to one side, tall windows framing the stairs, showcasing the bright night sky beyond. Dean wandered to the stairs, distracted for a moment by the size of the moon outside, when he heard a sniff from the staircase.

He swallowed, starting up the stairs. Charlie was there, halfway up to the top, her face buried into the front of her robes. Her shoulders were shaking with the effort to swallow down her sobs.

‘Hey,’ Dean mumbled, moving to sit one step below her. He chewed his lip, wrapping his arms around Charlie’s shoulders. ‘Come here. I’m sorry, pal.’

Charlie shook her head, melting into Dean’s chest. She cried harder then, her tears wet enough to soak through the front of Dean’s shirt. ‘I’m s-sorry,’ she managed weakly. ‘God, I feel like an idiot.’

‘You’re not an idiot. You’re upset. It’s fair, and you’re allowed to be.’

At this, Charlie leaned back and looked up at Dean, eyes shiny with tears. ‘How do you not cry whenever you see him with her?’ she asked then, and Dean felt his chest tighten. He shook his head, not sure what he could actually say. ‘I’m sorry for being so harsh to you about it. It must suck ass to go through seeing that every other day. Here I am crying my eyes out because a girl I’ve liked for two months is kissing a guy way cooler than me. I mean. You’ve loved Cas for years. It’s must be so-’

‘-Hey, wait,’ Dean interrupted quickly, feeling his cheeks flush. ‘Wait a minute. What are you talking about, Charlie?’

Charlie wiped her eyes and blinked. ‘You and Cas.’

‘I don’t - that’s not what - what do you mean I’ve loved Cas for years?’

Charlie leaned back, looking genuinely confused. ‘Dude. What? We’ve been talking about this for weeks.’

‘No, we haven’t. I’ve been saying that I’ve missed having him as a friend. I never said anything about - about love.’

Charlie shook her head. ‘No - I told you - I told you Cas had been having the same breakdowns to me about you. I told you he liked you - in a big way.’

‘No,’ Dean started, getting irritated now. ‘No, you said Cas watched other people getting something he wouldn’t get. I didn’t fucking know what you meant by that.’

‘Are you kidding me? Are you kidding - was I meant to spell it out?’

‘Yes! Ideally! That would be helpful!’ Dean was exasperated. ‘I’m worried about Cas. He’s my friend. I want him to be treated well by people, and I want him to be my best friend forever. I never said anything about loving him - and he never said anything about loving me either.’

‘You’re an idiot,’ Charlie snapped, standing up in frustration. ‘Think about it, Dean. Do you get upset seeing Benny with Andrea? Would you be hurt right now if I was pulling Dorothy in front of the whole school? Or if Benny and me started shagging? No. Jesus. You’d be happy for us. You want us to be with people we like - and if it messes up between us and whoever we’re dating, then you’ll support us. But you won’t assume the worst for every crush we ever get. You’re not mad that Cas is dating April. You’re mad he’s not dating you!’

Dean’s mouth fell open slowly. He tried to retort, but words failed him. It didn’t - it wasn’t… this wasn’t correct. ‘Charlie,’ he started, but a yell from down the staircase distracted him from speaking. He looked up at Charlie, blanching, before back down the staircase. The two of them acted instinctively, whipping out their wands and running down the steps to see what the commotion was. It was - somehow - Castiel, looking thunderous as he stormed out of Slughorn’s Office, followed by Raphael.

‘Cas, listen. Listen, you’re just high. It’s not that big of a-’

Raphael’s words were cut off. Castiel turned around, fists clenched, and with a resounding CLAP! Raphael was sent flying across the hall, smacking into the wall. And then, right in front of the budding crowd, Castiel’s hair went from a dark, barely noticeable purple, into a furious, burning crimson red. There was a resounding gasp from the crowd. Benny was stood by the entrance, an arm wrapped around Andrea’s shoulder, and Slughorn was there, looking thoroughly confused and appalled.

‘Stay the HELL away from me!’ Castiel yelled at Raphael’s crumpled body. Actually yelled.

Dean looked at Charlie, and Charlie looked at Dean. ‘Shit,’ she whispered. They ran down the remaining steps. Charlie made a beeline for Raphael, whilst Dean hurried down the corridor, turning to the Grand Staircase where Castiel was headed. Castiel was already two flights up. He’d taken off his bowtie, thrown it onto one of the steps, and was sprinting like he didn’t want Merlin or his uncle chasing after him.

‘Cas!’ Dean called. He jumped to make the next flight of stairs even as the staircase moved. ‘Cas, hey. Wait up! It’s Dean!’

Castiel didn’t slow down. He didn’t even break his stride. He turned off the Staircase on the Fourth floor and stepped through to one of the corridors. By the time Dean made it to the corridor, Castiel was gone. ‘Cas?’ Dean called out. His voice echoed, bouncing off the walls. There was no sign of Castiel. The Common Room was empty, too, when Dean reached it. And the Dormitory. Castiel must’ve rerouted. Either that or he’d chameleon’ed himself like last time and was wandering around Dean, invisible.

Dean hurried back down to the Common Room, crashing into Charlie halfway down the Dormitory stairs. ‘He’s not there,’ Dean blurts as Charlie asks, ‘Where is he!?’

‘Okay, okay.’ Charlie is flapping her hands frantically, clearly panicked. ‘Okay - that’s fine. No. It’s not fine. Where the hell is he?’

‘What happened - what did Raph say?’

Charlie shot Dean a glare and a half. ‘Raph didn’t say anything, he was out cold. But Balthazar was there - you know, Cas’ posh friend on the Chess team? Apparently, uh. Wait I need to get this right.’ She pressed her fingertips to her forehead and rubbed circles into her temples. ‘Raphael gave Cas a lot of Powdered Dragon Claw - maybe too much. He’s been - well - he’s been snorting it all night. He’s high out of his mind, apparently. And then April and Raphael were kissing-’

‘-Wait what?’

‘-I know, Dean. Let me finish. Balthazar told Cas, and Cas totally freaked out. That’s when he stormed out. I think that’s everything.’

‘Merlin’s balls. That’s a lot.’

Charlie raised her eyebrows. ‘I know. We’ve gotta find him though, if he really is high. Fuck knows what he could do. I reckon he’ll have gone to the-’

‘-Owlery-’

‘-Astronomy Tower. Wait, what?’

‘He likes the Owlery, it reminds him of home,’ Dean explained. ‘Owls and all. His mum trains them for the Ministry.’

‘Okay, but he likes the Astronomy Tower to think in. He likes stars - says the ones on Skye are bright enough to clear his whole mind.’

‘Okay, well then you go to the Astronomy Tower and I’ll go to the Owlery, and we’ll update each other on what we find.’

Charlie shook her head. Her words were rushed. ‘Alright, but how will I know if you find him? Where should we reconvene?’

‘Are you a witch, or not?’ Dean reminded her, ‘Relax. Send me a Patronus. We’ll keep in touch that way. Alright?’

Charlie chewed her lip. ‘Yes. You’re right. Sorry, I’m just-’

‘-Worried. I know.’ Dean pressed his mouth into a small line, grabbing Charlie’s shoulders and pulling her into a tight hug. ‘It’ll be okay. Cas is made of tough stuff. Let’s get going.’

With that, they split up. They hurried out of the Common Room, Charlie heading one direction and Dean the next. He felt pretty confident about his Owlery hunch, but he hadn’t wanted to waste time debating Charlie with it. They could both be wrong anyway. A castle this big, there was about eight million places a boy could hide - and besides, Dean had no idea whether Castiel still went to the Owlery anymore. It was something he’d done a lot in Third Year, when Benny had been sick and he’d needed something homely and quiet to keep himself sane.

Fifteen minutes later, however, and Dean felt proven thoroughly correct. Despite the time that had passed, Cas was still that thirteen year old boy who liked to go pet owls when he was stressed out. Even now, when he was high and crying his eyes out. Beside him, three paper birds were swirling erratically where he sat, curled into a ball with his head between his knees. His hair had faded into a burnt orange.

‘Cas,’ Dean said, breaking the silence.

The birds stopped swirling. They hovered and then they burst into flames, the ash floating down onto the Owlery floor, joining the feathers and dirt that lay there.

‘Please leave, Dean,’ Castiel said steadily after a pause, not looking over.

‘I just wanna make sure you’re okay.’

Castiel laughed weakly, rubbing his nose against his shoulder with a sniff. ‘I’m just great,’ he said dryly. ‘I don’t need to hear you say “I told you so”, or - or remind me of every stupid decision I’ve made this term. I don’t want any of it.’ He looked up then, eyes red. ‘And for the record - yes, I did snort Dragon Claw at the dance, but no, I’m not high. In fact, most of it was knocked out of my hand. So Raphael is a total - a total assbutt for telling me I’m overreacting because I’m high.’

Dean shook his head, holding his hands out placatingly. ‘Listen, I don’t know any of what happened - not really. I was outside with Charlie, we missed the whole thing. And I’m not gonna say I told you so.' He swallowed. 'You’re my friend and I’m not a douchebag.’

‘April was making out with Raphael,’ Castiel snapped, running a hand through his hair in anguish. His hair swirled now to a dirty mauve. ‘And I only found out because Balthazar told me. They’ve been sleeping together for weeks. Lying to me.’

‘They’re dicks,’ Dean said bluntly. ‘And they’re cowards.’

Castiel shook his head. ‘They’re within their right,’ he said simply, ‘me and April were never official. We were casual. We were - open, really, for all intents and purposes. There weren’t any rules, it was all unspoken - I mean, we didn't even kiss. I just… Merlin, I really thought for once that someone might actually like me. For me.’

Dean swallowed, moving to sit beside Castiel. He crossed his arms around his knees and looked out at the sky from the Owlery windows. In that moment, a great flutter of wings resounded through the tower. With a screech, Zeppelin came to an abrupt landing on Dean’s shoulder. He nipped at Dean’s ear - a painful display of affection from a Northern Hawk Owl. ‘Bugger off,’ Dean huffed, nudging his persistent beak away. ‘I haven’t got anything for you, Zeppy.’

Zeppelin pecked at Dean’s earlobe again. Demanding. He only stopped when he heard the crinkle of paper from Castiel, who was sifting through a paper bag before pulling out a singular Owl Treat. He held it out for Zeppelin, palm up, and the owl happily scooped up the offering in one fell swoop.

‘You just carry those around, huh?’ Dean hummed.

Castiel shrugged. ‘You never know when you might need to befriend an owl,’ he said simply. He didn’t look up, focusing instead to watch Zeppelin peck away at the crumbs in his palm. ‘I’ve made so many mistakes this term,’ Castiel whispered, still not looking up. ‘I wanted so badly to be liked. I tried so hard to be cool. And none of it worked. I’ve lost everything.’ He stared resolutely at Zeppelin nibbling at his hand. ‘Trying to be normal didn’t work - it never felt right. Trying to be cool was awful. Trying to get over you has been a disaster. And trying to make April like me was a complete failure - she flirted with me, but she didn’t care about me at all. I’ve lost her. I’ve lost Raph. I’ve lost myself.’ He looked up, eyes tired. His hair had shifted into a dark gray, like he’d lost all ability to control himself and his colors now. ‘But I also lost you.’

Trying to get over you. Dean feels that lump, all too familiar, forming in the back of his throat. He thought about what Charlie said; about everything. And maybe Charlie was right? After all, here was Cas, saying that he’d been trying to get over Dean.

It made Dean’s chest constrict with some unfamiliar feeling, and he didn’t know how to react. Right now, all he could think was, no. No way in hell had Castiel lost him. And he needed Cas to see that.

Dean shook his head. Resolute. ‘You’ve not lost me,’ he said quietly.

Castiel looked unsure.

Dean ducked his head down to Castiel’s eye level, willing him to look up from where he was stubbornly staring at the floor. ‘Hey. I mean it,’ Dean said firmly. ‘You’re the mindreader here, Cas. Look me in the eye and see I’m telling the truth.’ He reached out. Nudged Castiel gently. Blue eyes met his green.

‘You’ve not lost me. Okay?’ Dean said softly. He wanted to say so much more, but not now - it wasn’t the right time. ‘I’m right here,’ he said instead. ‘I’ve always been right here.’

Castiel looked like he really was scanning Dean in that moment, before he nodded and looked away again, back at Zeppelin who was now pecking at the ground. He smoothed the owl’s feathers down with the back of his fingers.

‘And - for what it’s worth,’ Dean continued quietly, ‘I’ve always thought you’re cool. And I’ve always liked you. Exactly as you are.’ He paused. There were a thousand things he wished he could say just then, like - maybe seeing you with April made me realize how much I wanted that. But it was too raw, too new, even for Dean. So instead he said the next pressing thing. He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry for being so angry with you all term,’ he told Castiel, ‘I'm so sorry, man. And for - for snooping through your stuff. It was just that I-’’

Before he could finish, and before Castiel could reply, the room filled with a soft blue glow, and a luminous jackrabbit danced across the room, coming to a halt before Castiel and Dean. ‘Dean,’ the jackrabbit said, ‘he’s not here. Where next?’ After a blink, the Patronus faded into the air.

Whatever moment that had been transpiring between Cas and Dean was instantly interrupted. The tension in the air was completely destroyed, and Dean couldn't even think back to what he had been saying. Dean cleared his throat and leaned back a little as Castiel straightened up.

‘Was that Charlie?’ Castiel asked after a lull of silence.

‘It’s been a mission, looking for you.’ Dean mumbled, rolling up his sleeve as he pulled out his wand. He licked his lips nervously. ‘Christ, I hate whipping this bad boy out,’ he sighed, rolling his eyes. Dean’s Patronus always took up far too much space in any room - despite it being the furthest thing from life size.

‘Why don’t you just send an owl?’ Castiel suggested meekly, clearly also not too keen.

Dean shook his head. ‘Slow,’ he muttered. ‘Expecto Patronum!’ From the tip of his wand, steady blue light trickled out slowly, forming like electricity in front of Dean until he was nose to nose with his Patronus - well. Nose to snout. Dean blinked, and the dragon blinked back. A Hebridean Black, shining blue through the night. ‘Charlie,’ Dean started, wand pressed to his throat, ‘I’ve found him. Convene in Common Room in fifteen.’

Dean dropped his wand to his side and nodded. The dragon nodded back. He looked away at the night, glancing once just briefly at Castiel. With a roar of ephemeral fire, the dragon leapt out of the window and into the night sky, his body of light streaking between the stars like a meteor.

‘The size of your ego,’ Castiel hummed as they watched the dragon disappear.

‘Alright,’ Dean said, pulling a face. ‘Just because yours is a jellyfish.’

‘I like my Patronus.’

‘I like mine.’

‘It’s not exactly subtle.’

Dean pressed his lips together and stood up. ‘Well, I can tell you’re in a better mood already. Care to come with to the Common Room?’

Castiel fell silent then. ‘Maybe,’ he said quietly. ‘I ought to send my parents an Owl. Half the dancefloor probably saw my hair change color down there.’

Dean hovered. He opened his mouth to say something, stopped himself, then restarted. He wasn't sure if it was his place to say what he wanted to say.

‘Look.’ He swallowed, scratched the back of his neck. ‘Listen. You’ve been hiding half your talents all your life - like they’re some dirty secret. They shouldn’t be. I know why you do it - I get it. You want to be successful by your own right, and not just because of your lineage. And you don’t want Voldemort trying to recruit you, or something. But I think you should own it, man. Be in control of your own narrative. Tell the world you’re a freaky Metamorphmagus who can heal bones at a touch and read minds in your sleep - tell the world before someone else says it for you, and does it in a twisted way that you’re not happy with. Okay? That’s my advice anyway. Take it or leave it.’

Castiel looked up at Dean from where he was sat, a hand still on Zeppelin’s back wing. He contemplated what Dean said for a moment. ‘Thank you, Dean,’ he said at last, with a small nod. His hair changed back to black. The first time it had been black in weeks. ‘I’ll be down soon, I promise. I just need a little more air.’

Against Dean’s better judgement, Dean left him there, sat in the Owlery with Zeppelin and a small pile of ashes. Dean wanted to hug him. He wanted to hold onto Cas and tell him he’d be there through everything - that Cas could walk out a dozen times and Dean would be there for when he came back.

When. Not if.

Cas would always come back.