The Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

Dean dreamt that night of Castiel, with his eyes a blinding white, his skin hot, and his forehead damp with sweat. He dreamt of powdered Dragon Claw, of the Shrieking Shack with its creaking infrastructure and dusty exterior. He dreamt of fire. Bright blue and dark orange, all at once. He dreamt of the screams of his mother.

It had been years since he’d dreamt of those screams. In a way it was nostalgic. It reminded him of old nightmares, as opposed to new.

When he woke up, however, it was with a weary tightness in his chest as though there was a weight there, pinning him down.

Benny was stood at the base of his bed, his eyebrows creased together in concern.

‘You okay, brother?’ he asked, pausing as he reached for a change of clothes.

Dean swallowed and sat up a little, screwing his eyes up to fight back the grogginess of sleep. His heart was pounding, his head aching. He’d barely caught four or five hours, tops. ‘I’m alright,’ he mumbled, pushing his legs out of bed and wiping at his eyes. ‘What time’s-it?’

‘Eight.’ Benny tossed Dean a sweater to tug on. ‘I was gonna wake you - Charlie told me to make sure you’re up in time for your test.’

Dean just nodded. He kept on nodding. He pulled his sweater over his head, hating how the fabric felt chilled against his too-warm body.

‘You havin’ a nightmare, or something?’ Benny pressed on cautiously.

Dean chewed his lip. He looked over at Castiel’s bed beside his. It was empty. Of course it was empty. But worse - his bed wasn’t just empty of Castiel, it was empty of all traces of Castiel. Where his trunk, engraved C. NOVAK, was meant to be sat at the base of Castiel’s bed, there was nothing but dust and stone. Where his posters and pictures once hang, there was nothing but the memory. Dean felt nauseous.

‘It’s Cas,’ he said finally.

When he didn’t elaborate, Benny moved to sit on the bed opposite Dean - Castiel’s bed. It creaked a little with Benny’s weight. He ducked his head down, eyes leveling with Dean carefully. ‘What about Cas?’ he asked after a long stretch of silence.

Dean swallowed. ‘He’s gone,’ he said, like it was obvious. And maybe it should’ve been obvious. After all, Benny was sat on his empty bed, next to his empty bedside table. ‘He’s gone home.’

Dean couldn’t bring himself to elaborate any further, so he stood up and grabbed some jeans, tugging them on without looking Benny’s way. He could tell that Benny was scanning Castiel’s section of the room, as though verifying everything Dean was saying, and Dean couldn’t help but feel light-headed from the heaviness of his heart. He made for the door, and Benny followed in silence - but the questions in his head felt loud enough even for Dean to hear.

The Common Room was silent when they entered. There wasn’t a sign of sleepiness in any of the people sat around the coffee tables or couches - it was a heavy silence. That kind that came with bad news.

‘Dean!’

Charlie’s voice rang out across the room, snapping some of the tension out of Dean’s bones. He looked over and a blur of red was flying into his arms, gripping onto his shoulders tightly.

So she’d heard, then.

‘Oh, Dean,’ Charlie cried, her voice breaking a little as she buried her face into Dean’s collarbone. He held her back just as tightly.

Benny cleared his throat a little awkwardly behind them both.

‘Is someone gonna tell me what the hell I missed?’ he asked, voice cutting into the silence.

Dean and Charlie pulled away and looked at him bleakly. Tight expressions. Sad eyes.

Charlie did most of the filling in on their way down to breakfast, explaining everything she’d read in the paper already that morning - she’d had breakfast an hour earlier, and had planned on revising more this morning before it had gone awry. She told Benny about the Raphael and April confrontation, and then about how the papers this morning were filled with news about the Novaks. None of it good. Death and more death. Castiel’s brother was a Death Eater. And a violent one at that.

Breakfast was a tense affair. The Hall itself was filled with a stuffy, overwhelming atmosphere. The Gryffindor table was empty and quiet, and even the Slytherins seemed subdued - probably from reading about their ex-pupil, and what he’d gotten up to after graduation.

It was with a grim taste in his mouth that Dean pulled a copy of The Daily Prophet across the table and scanned the front page. The Novaks were the headline. With a picture of Nicodemus Novak from his school days, smiling brightly - his hair tidy, short back and sides, a blonde quiff, so unlike his brother - plastered all over the front. Dean recognized Chuck Novak, too. There was a picture of him. A much more serious expression, with sharp eyes and a set jaw, more similar to Castiel in his sincerity - the Head Director of The Daily Prophet. One of the owners of the paper. The runner of this whole news industry. The guy who’d managed to hide the fact that his own son had started working with the vilest wizard in history. Castiel’s dad.

Dean swallowed and read the front page in full.

BREAKING: HEAD DIRECTOR’S SON, NICODEMUS NOVAK, IS WANTED AFTER COMMITTING HEINOUS CRIMES

At 11:15pm, 6th December, Aurors were called to a Muggle address in Wokingham. There were reports of murder and torture at the address. Nicodemus Novak, son of Charles (Chuck) Novak, the Head Director of The Daily Prophet, was found at the scene of the crime, responsible for the death of two Muggles.

Chuck Novak is a shared owner of The Daily Prophet. He refused to report his son who has been missing from his home address since August 19th, after reportedly completing initiation as a Death Eater during the Summer. The Novaks did not report their son as missing to the Ministry and Chuck Novak abused his position as Head Director by keeping the story from reaching the public in order to protect his family. Novak has since handed in a letter of resignation to the Head Department of The Daily Prophet.

Nicodemus Novak, 25, fought against four Aurors at the scene of the crime, murdering a first-year Auror, Barnaby Wisbech, amidst the fight before being Disapparating at 11:49pm. He was found alone at the scene and left The Dark Mark in his wake.

There will be a Memorial Service for Auror Wisbech (known fondly to friends as ‘Barney Beech’) at 2pm today inside the Ministry. Muggles on sight were Obliviated where need be. The identity of the Muggles who were found, deceased, at the property, shall remain anonymous for their family’s protection.

When asked about his son, Chuck Novak - father of seven - refused to comment. A spokesperson for the family came forward and told the Daily Prophet exclusively that this is a ‘terrible and tragic time for the family’, who request privacy and understanding at this time. Nicodemus Novak is the second oldest of Chuck’s sons. He has an older brother Michael (27) and five younger brothers; Gabriel (23), twins Ezekiel and Gadreel (22), Samandriel (20), and Castiel (17).

Reports have already arrived today of the Novak’s youngest son being removed from Hogwarts for attacking four students in the Gryffindor Common Room in the early hours of this morning. This is after Castiel was found guilty of being a Metamorphmagus, something that has been kept hidden even from the faculty of Hogwarts. ‘He turned his whole body bright red,’ an anonymous Hogwarts student informed us about the recent confrontation that exposed Castiel in front of his classmates, ‘it was terrifying - he looked like a monster. Who knows what else he’ll do, if he’s anything like his brother.’

After extensively concealing a train of problematic, violent sons, Chuck Novak will be resigning from his position as Head Director of the Daily Prophet. But it begs the question: what is occurring within the Novak household to produce such violent sons? Is Nicodemus simply the first of the seven to publicly fall? Is it safe to allow Castiel Novak to return to Hogwarts for his final term? Read the full article on page 64.

Dean stared at the paper over his plate of hash browns, his tea already having gone cold, his mouth and throat dry. By the time he reached the end of the front page, he felt as though he’d been staring at it for a good twenty minutes. During that time, the tension in the Great Hall could be cut by a knife - Dean was sure he could hear a penny drop if he put his mind to it. A heaviness that pushed its full weight down onto Dean’s shoulders.

‘This… is such bullshit,’ Dean managed at last, as Benny looked over one of his shoulders at the article, Charlie looking over the other. ‘They’ve twisted everything. In one report they have totally vilified Cas. How can they even publish this - how do they even know about last night?’

Benny just shook his head. ‘Brother, every painting in this building has eyes, ears, and mouths. Ain’t nothing private in these walls,’ he said softly.

Dean thought back to the Dormitory. To Castiel’s bed. His empty walls, his empty drawers. The lack of a trunk at the end of the bed. That whole section of the room looked for all intents and purposes like nobody had ever slept there before. Like Castiel had never even existed, and wouldn’t ever come back.

Is it safe to allow Castiel Novak to return to Hogwarts for his final term?

And finally, Cas was gone. After what felt like a semester of slowly losing his friend, this time it was real beyond belief. Cas was gone. He was gone. And he was going through hell at home by himself, and Dean might not see him ever again. What if he never came back to Hogwarts?

‘What do we do?’ Dean mumbled weakly, feeling utterly helpless as he let the newspaper fall from his fingertips.

Charlie leaned against his side, wrapping an arm around him. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted, voice so tiny and small. Shaky. Even Charlie sounded torn up now, it wasn’t just Dean - Dean wasn’t just being an overprotective son of a bitch, this shit was bad and everybody knew it.

‘But he’s gotta know, Charlie,’ Dean started up, hearing the anger begin to build from deep in his gut, ‘- he’s gotta know that we support him and that we don’t believe any of this garbage, and - and that his dad doesn’t deserve to lose his job, and that The Daily Prophet is all kinds of crazy for even publishing anything about him and his brothers right now… this is nuts…’

‘I know, Dean, I know. Merlin’s beard, this is hellish.’ She wiped her eyes absently before burying her face into Dean’s neck. Dean pressed his lips together and wrapped his arms around her. He wasn’t the only one who cared, he reminded himself as his anger started to sink back into his stomach. Charlie and Cas had been friends for just as long as Dean and Cas had been. They’d been better friends this whole term, too. ‘I don’t know how to help him, though,’ Charlie pushed on quietly, her voice breaking. ‘This is all so horrible, and he’s so out of reach right now - and maybe he needs the space. Maybe it’s good for him to get out of here, not have to deal with us and all our worry…’

Before Dean could say anything else, argue that space was absolutely not happening, Sam appeared opposite him at the table, looking as haggard as Dean felt. Dean had barely seen his brother all term, and damn was it a relief to see his face in that moment, even though he looked sleep deprived, stressed out, and in dire need of a haircut. End-of-term exams would do that to a nerdy Third Year, he supposed.

‘I just read the paper,’ Sam explained hurriedly, swinging his bag over the bench and sitting down. He opened his bag under the table and began to pull out notebooks and a pen. ‘Have you seen Cas since it all came out? Dean, this is nuts…’

Dean nodded, glad his brother was seeing eye to eye on this. It was nuts. Sam would have a plan. The kid was smart - he’d know what Dean should do. ‘Cas left last night,’ he told Sam, catching him up. ‘He must be home now, back on Skye.’ Dean shifted forward a little bit and looked at his brother, almost desperately. ‘Sammy, he didn’t say anything about Nick going rogue to us. This shit must’ve been tearing him up all term and he didn’t say…’

Dean’s voice trailed off as a figure appeared behind Sam, effectively distracting him from Castiel for the first time all morning. It was Raphael. His jaw was a dark shade of purple, the exact shape of Dean’s fist, but other than that he looked unharmed. His expression was stiff and cold, though, and Dean felt his whole body turn rigid as their eyes met.

Raphael stopped short at the table, his hand gripping tightly onto the strap of his bag. ‘So you’ve heard, then?’ he said coolly. ‘Bet you feel kind of embarrassed, throwing punches for a freak like Castiel.’

Dean didn’t think, he just sprang to his feet, his wand slipping from his sleeve into his hand. He glared at Raphael, the coldness running through his veins. ‘You wanna watch who you’re calling a freak,’ he grunted, even as Charlie tugged on his sweater sleeve.

‘Dean, get down,’ she hissed, glancing over at the teacher’s table. Dean pulled his wrist free.

Raphael smirked. Like he could hear the way Dean’s heart was pounding. ‘Go on then, tough guy,’ he pushed on. ‘Who are you gonna blame it on this time? Sammy?’

‘As soon as I hand this badge in I swear to God you’re getting the whooping of your life,’ Dean snarled, jerking as Benny tugged him back down roughly.

Raphael rolled his eyes. ‘You’re like a dog on a chain, Winchester,’ he muttered, turning to strut off in the direction of the Slytherin table.

‘Just stay away from me, Raphael,’ Dean called out after him, earning some raised eyebrows from a group of Second Years a few feet away. ‘Stay fucking clear of me.’

‘Dude, do you want to get demoted or what?’ Charlie said sharply, grabbing Dean by the shoulders and pulling him down as he half-rose out of his seat again.

But Dean was thundering. He couldn’t even see clearly as he jerked his shoulder free from Charlie’s grip, the anger coiling his stomach. ‘I don’t care about the fucking Head Boy badge, Charlie,’ he said coldly.

‘Well, I do.’ The sharpness of her voice took even Dean by surprise. He looked over, meeting her eyes and they were filled with a brazen stubbornness that he so rarely saw. ‘Cas took the fall last night so that you wouldn’t lose that badge, Dean. Don’t throw that away. Just… keep your head on, ignore those assholes, and we’ll figure this out. Together. Like we always do.’

Sam leaned forward. ‘Am I missing something?’ he whispered, eyes squinting between the three of them and then back over at where Raphael was joining April across the hall.

Benny groaned, letting his head fall into his hands at the table. ‘Don’t even ask, kid,’ he sighed, like he wished he wasn’t in the loop at all. ‘Just focus on what you do know.’

‘Everything has hit the fan,’ Charlie said plainly, glancing back at Sam.

Dean swallowed, letting the waves of anger slowly roll off of him. ‘Royally hit the fan,’ he confirmed shortly, his voice rough.

There was a beat of silence. Sam sipped loudly at a glass of orange juice and glanced between Benny, Charlie, and Dean all sat opposite him, his eyebrows popping between the three of them. He looked like he wanted to ask, but couldn’t quite bring himself to. Thankfully, instead, he settled on saying, ‘I was thinking of creating a school paper.’ He pointed down at the abandoned Daily Prophet article and raised an eyebrow at Dean. ‘Do you think I can write a counter article about this? Might be one way of getting Cas’ name in the clear.’

Dean ran a hand through his hair. He relaxed a little bit, though, because discussing a plan was better than having no plan. ‘I appreciate it, Sammy,’ he muttered eventually, ‘but no way. The less reporting this gets, the better. You should keep your Hogwarts Howler business to simple stuff like Niffler raids.’

Sam screwed up his face at that, looking disgusted. ‘It’d be called the Hogwarts Herald,’ he corrected. He ran a hand through his mop of hair and reached for one of Dean’s abandoned, cold, hash browns. ‘You’re probably right, though,’ he admitted around a mouthful. ‘But I’m down to spread some Castiel positivity in case people start giving him the evils when he comes back.’

‘If they do that then they’ll get more than Cas positivity,’ Dean growled, ‘they’ll get a punch and a half to the face.’

‘Dude,’ Charlie groaned beside him, even as Sam smirked. ‘Head Boy, man. What part of upholding standards don’t you get?’

‘I don’t even know how he got that title,’ Benny added with a weathered sigh.

Dean caught Sam’s eye. There was the smallest of twinkles there as his brother pushed down another hash brown and glanced at Benny and Charlie sat either side of Dean. He looked amused, and his amusement was a good enough distraction for Dean to latch onto - because at least laughing about something stupid was better than Dean spending the rest of his day getting riled up with worry and defense about Castiel.

‘Come on,’ Charlie said after a while, glancing at her watch. She started to stand up, grabbing the discarded Daily Prophet paper roughly from the table and stuffing it into her bag. ‘We’ve got twenty minutes before our exam, Dean, and I haven’t even got a functional quill on me.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dean sighed, pushing the rest of his plate over to Sam’s side of the table, giving up on any pretense of having a suitable breakfast today. He climbed out of the table and slapped a hand on Benny’s shoulder. ‘Catch you later,’ he told Benny and Sam.

Benny caught his elbow before he could leave. He leaned back where he was sat and met Dean’s eyes. ‘Good luck with the exam, brother,’ he said seriously. And then he relaxed. ‘Meet me on the bridge, later?’

Dean thought about it. He licked his lips and shifted his bag up his shoulder before nodding. ‘Yeah. The bridge.’

And with that, he and Charlie were gone.

The Potions exam was probably one of the worst things Dean had sat in his life. He didn’t concentrate throughout any of it. All he was aware of was Slughorn’s heavy breathing over his neck, the scratch of Charlie’s quill in the seat next to him, and the ticking of the clock. Thank god it was only internal exams and not his actual NEWTs or Dean would be fucked. He answered maybe 7 of the 20 questions. Only the short answer questions, too, he skipped all the essay questions, and he left during the practical part of the exam to go be sick in the boy’s toilet - the stress of the past 24 hours and his lack of sleep all catching up with him as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, eyeing the paleness of his own face, the deep-set bags under his eyes.

What if Cas didn’t come back to Hogwarts next term?

It was the only thought on Dean’s mind even later that day when he found Benny on the bridge just after lunchtime. They both had a Defence Against the Dark Arts class that they were meant to be in, but Dean didn’t have the energy or concentration levels left and Benny didn’t need any convincing to skip school. So they met on the wooden bridge, the boards creaking beneath their weight as Dean leaned with his elbows on the wall of the bridge. Benny leaned beside him, his back against the edge so that he was facing Dean.

They used to come here a lot in the past. Dean had places around the castle that he associated with all his friends. The Owlery would be Cas. The library would be Charlie, probably. And here would be Benny. On the wooden bridge, overlooking the cavernous highland mountains and the Great Lake.

He smelled the tendrils of smoke before he saw them and he smiled a little, biting back the smirk as he glanced at Benny who had one cigarette balanced between his lips as he began to roll another. He offered it to Dean silently but Dean just shook his head.

‘Suit yourself,’ Benny sighed, sealing the rollie with a lick of his tongue and tucking it behind his ear. He inhaled slowly, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaling. A long puff of smoke tipped out of his mouth as he flicked the ash onto the floor.

‘You’ve been miserable this whole term, Dean.’

Dean looked out at the lake and clenched his jaw, feeling the muscle at the back of his cheek jump. ‘Yeah,’ was all he said after the longest pause.

Benny shook his head and turned around, copying Dean’s stance as he leaned on his elbows, chest now pressed against the edge of the bridge. His cigarette was clutched loosely between two fingers and he held it out over the bridge, holding it against the drop.

‘It’s sucked,’ Benny continued quietly. ‘To see you like this.’

Dean just swallowed. He leaned his head against the wooden beams of the bridge, forehead scratching up against a splinter there. ‘M’sorry,’ he mumbled eventually.

Benny sighed. ‘Not your fault,’ he said gruffly. ‘But you’re my brother, Dean. You know that, yeah?’

Dean glanced at Benny, his throat catching with a sudden surge of fondness for the other boy. He nodded with delay, but with certainty. They were brothers. Dean knew that. He’d never doubted it once - and Benny had never given him reason to, either. ‘I know that.’

At that, Benny smiled grimly. He squinted out at the lake, following Dean’s gaze before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. Even though it was winter, the days were bright here. The sun reflected off the water sharper than ever before, and the clouds were a blinding white, suffocating the sky. Dean clicked his tongue in sympathy and scratched the back of his head, flicking a spider off of his sweater sleeve idly.

His friend group was a bunch of misfits, now he thought about it. He and Charlie were Half-Bloods, not exactly top of the pecking order in this climate. Benny was a vampire. And Cas… well, Cas had always looked, externally, like the best of the bunch of them. He was a Pureblood, his family was well off, and he was smart as shit, blessed as the Seventh Son of a Seventh Son. But none of that felt real anymore. Cas was more of a misfit than Charlie, Dean, or Benny ever were.

‘What would you do,’ Dean asked after a long pause, the words slow from his lips, ‘if folk found out you’re a vamp?’

He knotted his fingers together and glanced at Benny, studying how his friend’s brows sloped together, his eyes now hidden behind his shades and a thin trail of smoke. He looked the oldest of their friends, what with his far more successful beard growth than Dean and Castiel’s, and his far more muscular body, too. He looked older even now as he puffed out another breath of smoke. So much older than the fifteen-year-old, slightly chubby, Benny who’d coughed around his first cigarette on this bridge and eagerly offered it to Dean.

With effort, Benny shrugged. He drew the cigarette back to his lips. ‘I’d keep on keeping on,’ he said finally. ‘If people found out I was a freak, what else choice would I have?’

Dean swallowed. ‘Would you leave Hogwarts?’

At this, Benny smirked and twisted his mouth. Like he had figured out exactly why Dean was worked up. ‘No way, brother,’ he chuckled humorlessly. ‘As long as Dumbledore gives me the green light to be here, I ain’t leaving.’

Dean hummed, holding off his second question for as long as he possibly could as he pulled the collar of his sweater higher up his throat, biting back the chill of the wind. He should’ve worn a jacket, or his robes at least. ‘So you think Cas’ll come back?’ he asked finally.

Benny huffed out a breath of laughter. ‘No offense, Dean, but Cas being outed as a guy who can change his hair color ain’t exactly as bad as getting outed as a monster would be.’ Dean chewed the inside of his cheek. He wished Benny wouldn’t call himself a monster, but he also wasn’t in the headspace to argue with him on it just then. ‘I guess anything remotely non-human or freakish can pass as dark and dangerous these days, though,’ Benny reasoned out loud around the filter of his cigarette. ‘My kind have a bad habit of signing up with You-Know-Who, so our reputation in society is a little fucked. But Metamorphmaguses? I mean…’ Benny screwed up his face in thought. ‘How many can you even name? I don’t think there are enough shapey-shifter freaks out there to even label them as bad or good.’

‘But they’re different,’ Dean argued, ‘and that’s usually enough.’ Enough to make them untrustworthy. Disliked. ‘And he’s got a killer brother on the loose, too.’

Benny tilted his head, as though he was weighing up Dean’s reasoning. ‘Dean,’ he said, eventually, with a deep sigh, ‘Cas is gonna be alright. He’s made of strong stuff, and he’s got enough other freaking brothers to rally him to safety if he needs it.’ He looked at Dean then over the top of his sunglasses, blue eyes warm with understanding underneath thick brows. ‘He’s not alone. Now I’m begging you… look after yourself right now, Dean. Cas has screwed with your head enough this term.’ He pointed at Dean with his cigarette, using all the gruffness in his tone he could summon, and Dean felt very much like he was getting a lecture from an older brother - or even from Bobby. ‘I’m telling you,’ Benny said firmly, ‘it ain’t your problem right now. All you gotta do is keep your head down, get through these last exams of term, and take a breather over break. Come January, I’ll bet this will have all blown over, and everyone will have forgotten that Cas’ brother is a psycho killer. Yeah?’

It sounded so simple when Benny put it like that. So why didn’t Dean believe him?

Still, he nodded along with it and curled the sleeves of his sweater over his knuckles. ‘Yeah,’ he said numbly.

‘And stop picking fights with Raphael too, while you’re at it,’ Benny pushed on, toeing the line of how much he could knuckle into Dean’s skull while he had the chance. ‘We still got a whole term of sharing the room with the guy, and I’d like to be able to sleep peacefully without thinking he’s gonna hex me in my bed.’

Dean rolled his eyes. ‘If he’d dare,’ he muttered and Benny elbowed him sharply.

‘I mean it, Dean. Charlie’s right, you gotta keep your head on - it won’t help Cas any if you’re causing trouble here.’

How many people around Dean were going to spend his whole life telling him to keep it calm and cool down? Maybe it was good, in a way. Maybe it was good that Dean had people around him to keep him from going off the rails every five minutes.

‘How’s Andrea?’ Dean asked after a while. Anything to change the subject.

Benny looked torn between allowing the topic to change or badgering Dean further, but he conceded. ‘Andrea is good,’ he said slowly. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, reaching the end of it. He lit up the second with a click of his fingers. ‘She’s hot.’

Dean smirked a little. ‘She is hot,’ he agreed. ‘I’m impressed, man. Ain’t she some kinda heiress?’

At this, Benny smiled. As though he couldn’t help himself. ‘Yes,’ he said after a long pause, as though he wanted to put Dean off the topic, but now they were on the topic Dean was not about to back down. ‘She’s, uh, like descended from old Greek sailors. Pirates, kinda.’

Dean grinned. He couldn’t help it. ‘Oh, yeah? You gonna join her in her pirating life?’

‘Dean.’

‘No, I’m serious, man. Screw the Quidditch career. I can see you and Andrea, sailing off into the distance - a couple squirts between you. A family of vampire pirates.’ He clicked his tongue smugly. ‘Vampirates, you could say.’

Benny scowled. ‘Nobody is saying that,’ he huffed.

‘C’mon. You wanna say it.’

Benny rolled his eyes - Dean could tell through the shades based on how his eyebrows leaped - and stubbed out his cigarette even though he’d only smoked half of it. He carefully folded the half-smoked rollie into the inside of his jacket sleeve and pushed off the side of the bridge. ‘You’re an idiot, Winchester,’ he said factually.

Dean pushed off the bridge in suit and followed Benny as he walked back in the direction of the castle. ‘Oh, right. But you’re a vampirate in the making, and that’s even more-’

‘-I don’t know how we became friends, brother.’ Benny was shaking his head. But it was easy to hear the fondness in his voice even as Dean kept on pushing those buttons. ‘And I don’t know how I put up with your sorry ass.’

‘Because I’m awesome,’ Dean sighed, pushing his hands into his pockets. Class would be finishing soon enough, they could probably meet Charlie in the Common Room, play some Exploding Snap before bed… ‘And anyway, if I remember rightly, you wanted to befriend me. Not the other way round.’

Benny shot him a glare. The shades didn’t hide it. ‘We were eleven, I think you can forgive me for the poor judgment skills,’ he countered snidely.

They argued back and forth like that as they made their way through the castle and up to the Common Room, friendly insults tossed in the air between them. Dean managed to badger Benny into admitting he’d only kissed Andrea, and hadn’t gone to any kind of interesting base yet, but that he planned on keeping up communication over break - so she wasn’t a write-off. She was probably the only girl Benny had paid more than a week’s worth of attention to in the whole time Dean had known him. It felt like the real deal.

‘You two stink,’ Charlie commented as they curled up on the sofa an hour or so later, Dean’s stomach growling with hunger - dinner wouldn’t be for half an hour or so, though.

He raised an eyebrow at Charlie’s crinkled nose and jerked a thumb in Benny’s direction. ‘Blame the chimney,’ he muttered, ‘I’m innocent in this.’

Benny’s smile was wolfish, teeth glinting as he leaned back in his armchair and knotted his hands in his lap. ‘Cigarettes take an edge off the urge, brother,’ he drawled. He swiped his tongue pointedly across his lip, lingering on the sharpness of his canines for a moment. ‘You should all be grateful.’

‘You’re a freak,’ Dean said matter-of-factly.

But talking with Benny had put him in a better mood already. Dean felt like the load was a little lighter. He didn’t have to do this all on his own - he didn’t have to carry all the worries he had about Castiel all by himself. And Benny was right, Cas had so many people who would help him, who’d remind him of his worth - his parents, for one thing. Home would be the best place for Castiel amidst all this chaos. The best thing Dean could do would be to wait it out. Hug him tighter when they next see him. Try not to think of everything that had got in the way, torn them apart, for this whole time.

The rest of term continued in this same vein. Charlie and Dean spent their days in class together or studying in the Common Room or library. Sam ate breakfast with them more days than not, probably to keep an eye on Dean now that he was aware of all the shit that had been going on with Castiel. He brought Kevin with him most days, and a new enough friend called Anna who spent most of her time shyly watching Dean through her ginger bangs. It wasn’t the greatest feeling, having his kid brother’s best friend staring at him all the time, but Dean ignored it in favor of the way Sam’s laugh carried across the table, his whole chest shaking with every dry comment Benny threw his way. It was nice. Having everyone all in one spot again. Nearly everyone.

Dean mostly just focused on getting through each day. He blanked Raphael pointedly in every classroom or corridor when they bumped into each other. He spent as little amount of time possible in the Dormitory. He killed hours sitting on the wooden bridge with Benny, like the old days, trading smokes and shooting sparks from their wands at each other - rubbing each other up the wrong way, but egging each other on in the best way possible. He bit back the coldness of winter, along with the first snow of December, by hugging Charlie extra tight by the fire as Charlie mapped out exam practice questions for them both. He bounced Bludgers back and forth with Sam and Benny in the evenings, just to kill some of that pent-up anger he had left residual in his gut. And he ripped up every copy of The Daily Prophet that he could get his hands on, like ripping up the copies would scrub out all trace of this event from existence. Like killing the evidence would solve everything.

It was Friday. The final Friday of term, when Dean found himself in McGonagall’s office, with a neat folder which summarised his semester’s worth of work as Head Boy. All the feedback he’d collected. All the successes, the complaints. Everything he’d done in his position.

He placed it on the desk and took a seat, looking at McGonagall for a long time. Her expression was hard to decipher and Dean scratched nervously at his wrist whilst he waited for her to say something.

She reached out and opened the folder, turning the pages over and scanning everything that was written. How some students didn’t like that there weren’t enough signs for the bathrooms - it was awkward running halfway across the castle with a full bladder and no idea where to go. Or how some students wanted less homework (as always), or more practical teaching in classes. Some students wanted a break in the middle of term where they could go home to see their parents, stave off the homesickness. First Years and Second Years argued they should be allowed to go to Hogsmeade sooner. Things like that. McGonagall had probably heard it all before a hundred times over.

‘Have a biscuit, Winchester.’

The words cut through the silence, taking Dean by surprise.

‘I don’t…’ he started, voice rough. She didn’t look up from the folder.

‘Have a biscuit.’

It wasn’t a request.

Dean pressed his lips together, accepting a ginger snap glumly. It was only then that McGonagall looked up, folding her hands over the file and leveling her gaze over her spectacles steadily, meeting Dean’s eyes.

‘How have your exams been?’ she asked.

Dean shrugged, snapping the biscuit in half and taking a tentative bite. He nibbled on it absently. ‘Same as usual,’ he said quietly. Weird without Cas.

'And you've submitted your application to the Ministry, I take it?'

Dean chewed his cheek. He'd sent off his Auror application a week ago alongside Charlie. His hadn't been as good as hers, but he'd done it anyway, with her support. Same way he did anything academic, with Charlie's support. 'I did, yeah. The other week.'

'That's good to hear.' McGonagall nodded. ‘You’ve put together an impressive report,’ she said, gesturing at the file. ‘It’s been an unprecedented few weeks for you, but you’ve done a good job here.’

It felt like the reassurance Dean needed, but it didn’t sit right with him somehow. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

‘Professor,’ he began, an itch in the back of his head desperately needing addressing, ‘why did you pick me as Head Boy?’

He swallowed, putting the ginger snap back onto the table. It was a breakdown that he needed to have. He had to have it out with McGonagall. It had been nagging him all term.

‘Only - I’d get it, maybe, if I was Quidditch Captain. I’m not a bad Beater. Although, Benny is way more dedicated. But, I mean…’ He started listing off reasons with his fingers, counting each point he was making. ‘I wasn’t even a Prefect at any point. I’m not exactly a stickler for the rules. You’ve had me in detention more times than we both care to remember. I’ve barely ever revised in my life, I’ve got by on sheer, dumb luck and Charlie dragging me to the library. I don’t even care about classes that much. I’ve probably docked Gryffindor of a thousand House Points over my time and contributed about 150 in return. So I don’t get it. I don’t get why I’m Head Boy.’

At the end of his speech, he sat there, glaring at McGonagall. His chest rose and fell, his adamance palpable.

McGonagall sighed, fixing one of her quills on her desk and raising a thin, stern eyebrow at Dean. ‘First of all, Winchester, I didn’t choose you. Professor Dumbledore did, as he does all Head Boys and Girls.’ Her tone was clipped. Authoritative. ‘Second of all, you don’t need to be a Prefect to qualify as Head Boy. You were chosen as Head Boy because you fulfill, to the best degree, all the qualities of your House to a greater extent than your peers. And because you are a leader. Because you are liked, you are trusted, and you are kind. Dumbledore wanted someone the students could look up to - could talk to. Someone who could collect information like this,’ she tapped on the folder, ‘from students across the school. Who else would be Head Boy if not you?’

Dean chewed his lip. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. ‘Cas,’ he said quietly. Adamantly. ‘Castiel would be.’

McGonagall shook her head, gentle this time, but her words were sharp. ‘Do you or do you not wish to be an Auror one day?’

It was a jarring change of topic, and one with an obvious answer given what had already been discussed, but Dean went with it. ‘Yes, Professor.’

McGonagall hummed. ‘Then you ought to start believing in yourself,’ she said. Her voice almost soft. ‘Never admit weakness to the enemy, and always value your strengths - trust yourself, and accept the gifts you are given. The gifts you deserve. Now. Have another biscuit, please.’

Dean didn’t even argue. He plucked another ginger snap from McGonagall’s desk and shoved it into his pocket. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

McGonagall nodded. She gestured at the door and Dean knew it was his sign to leave. He stood up, glancing at the clock - barely thirty minutes to kill before his class would start. He puffed out his cheeks and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

‘You know, Professor,’ he began, faulting in the doorway to look back at McGonagall. ‘You’re the best teacher I’ve ever had.’ He smiled, the smallest but most sincere smile he could muster. Even McGonagall smiled at that.

‘Thank you, Winchester,’ she said as firmly as she could, despite the smile. ‘If I don’t see you again personally before the holidays then I hope you have a good Christmas, and please send my regards to Bobby Singer.’

Dean grinned. ‘With any luck, maybe you’ll get an invite this year,’ he said with a wink, not waiting for a reply before he pushed himself out of the door and into the empty corridor beyond.

Saturday morning saw the students piling onto the train home, overeager, tired, and under-packed. Dean followed suit, slinging an arm around Sam’s shoulders when he found his brother at Hogsmeade’s Station. They bustled into a carriage with Kevin, Benny, and Charlie.

‘You have to visit over the holidays,’ Charlie said as the train pulled away from the station, Hogsmeade blurring into the distance.

Dean leaned his head against the cold train window. He didn’t have the heart to tell Charlie he wouldn’t be visiting. He never saw his friends over break. Home was… home. It was the one place where school and all its worries really couldn’t touch him. Besides, Bobby would grumble at him to help out around the house before he’d be allowed to go on a jaunt with his friends.

Benny seemed to sense that. He was chewing idly on a blood-flavored lollipop, his eyes glinting at Dean from beneath a farmer’s cap. ‘You’ll write, won’t you?’ he prompted. It wasn’t a question.

Dean sucked in a breath and nodded. ‘Course I’ll write,’ he smiled.

‘He’ll write to Cas, too,’ Sam nudged. Dean smiled, shier now.

‘Yeah,’ he said, nodding against the window. He glanced at Charlie. Then at Benny. Then over to Sam. ‘Yeah. I’m gonna write to Cas.’

Like it would solve everything. He’d write to Cas.

And with that, he closed his eyes. His forehead bumped against the train window. The cool glass caused burning against his eyebrow with the friction. And he thought about home, about Bobby’s yard, about making snow angels with Sam and throwing snowballs for the dogs.

And he was so, so glad that this term was over.