Red
Red was the colour of the Hogwarts express the first time Dean and Seamus met. As the train sped past the rolling hills of the British countryside, the two boys sat in their compartment eating sweets and chatting as though they had known each other their whole lives. Dean laughed at Seamus’ rowdy nature and Seamus grinned at Dean’s amusement.
“you want another?”
Dean inspected the bag of sweets with suspicion. Not two minutes ago had he accepted the same offer only to be left with the taste of shit in his mouth, much to the joy of the boy opposite. Tentatively he took reached into the bag and retrieved a bean. He sniffed it and, finding the smell not too unpleasant, popped it into his mouth. Before promptly spitting it out. Because now his taste buds were not only tarnished with shit, but also spoiled milk.
Red was the colour of Seamus Finnigan’s face as he struggled for air amongst his laughter.
Orange
Orange was the colour of Ginny Weasleys hair. And her freckles, and her nails (on the rare occasions that she painted them), and the marmalade that she had for breakfast every morning.
Dean Thomas loved the colour orange. Seamus Finnigan hated it.
Falling in love with Ginny was like fireworks. It was like roller coasters. It was like you could live forever. The way her hair tumbled down her back like a golden waterfall was an artist’s dream. (As Dean came to learn rather unexpectedly one night). The way she navigated the sky was almost poetic. The way she laughed made Deans insides flutter. When their lips were pressed together it was like time stopped.
Hating Ginny was like a fire was burning up inside. It was like drowning. All encompassing. It was like it would never end. Seamus noticed things Dean chose to ignore. The way she would toss her fiery hair over her shoulder flirtatiously whenever Harry was nearby. The way her eyes would always flit to Harry on the quidditch pitch. The way her laugh would grow even more obnoxious when Harry was around, and it made his stomach itch. When he saw Ginny’s lips smashed against those of Dean, he wanted to throw up. He wanted to warn Dean. But he couldn’t, because who was he to ruin that happiness. Besides, Ginny could do that perfectly well on her own.
Orange was the smell that always lingered around Dean, ever since he and Ginny started dating.
Yellow
Yellow was the colour of the fire that burned, the night Seamus realised he loved Dean.
It had been three months since the end of Deans relationship. The two boys were fighting a losing battle against the sleep that begged to take them. The previously unenticing homework assignment was now positively abhorrent.
Seamus released a loud groan that earned him a disapproving glare from Hermione. He collapsed against Deans shoulder and sank into the soft cotton of his jumper. He cast his eyes downwards and they landed on Deans sketchbook. Inside was a detailed drawing of Seamus.
“you drew me?”
Dean hummed in response. Seamus felt an arm come to rest across his shoulders and he snuggled closer into his friend. The world outside was gradually falling apart, but in that moment, Seamus allowed himself to be content. Because he could have lived like that for the rest of his life.
Yellow was the colour Dean used to capture his best friends’ hair (and unintentionally his heart).
Green
Green was the colour of the grass the first time Dean and Seamus kissed.
The year was almost over. The two Gryffindors lay side by side next to the great lake watching the clouds pass by above them. The summer air was heavy and littered with the sounds of other students.
“do you ever think about the future?”
Seamus turned his sleepy gaze to his best friend.
“What do you mean?”
After a second of hesitation and a large sigh, Dean did the same.
“I dunno, I think the heats getting to me.”
Seamus grinned. And shook his head slightly.
“you’re mad.”
“Can I kiss you?”
Seamus felt his face flush and his eyes widen. His thoughts were a mess and he found he couldn’t get a comprehensive word out leaving him looking somewhat like a fish.
Dean blushed too, only his was much harder to see, thank god for his dark complexion. He began to get up muttering something about libraries and mistakes. He instead found his plans scuppered by a hand pulling him back on grass and suddenly there were a pair of lips pressed tightly to his.
Dean melted into the kiss and brought his hands up to Seamus’s face, running his ink stained fingers along the blonde’s jaw. Time seemed to stop. The sounds of the world around them seemed to dissipate. And it was just the two of them and everything was perfect.
Green was the colour of the clouds in sky the night Dumbledore died and everything fell apart.
Blue
Blue was the colour of the sky the night dean had to say goodbye.
They were stood in the Finnigan’s front room with the moonlight streaming through the window. Seamus’s parents were in the kitchen leaving the two boys alone. Dean was wearing all black. There was a rucksack filled with only the minimum necessities slung over his shoulder. His wand was in his pocket. He held Seamus tightly in his arms, burying his face in the messy blonde hair.
“I’m sorry Seam, it’s the only way.”
“No, it’s not. I can come with you”
Dean just shook his head. He now held Seamus’s face in his hands. He kissed his lips softly and mouthed three words against them.
Blue was the colour of their tears as Seamus watched Dean dissapparate to Merlin knows where.
Indigo
Indigo was the colour of the spell that nearly killed Dean.
When Seamus saw the stream of bright magic shoot towards his best friend/boyfriend his breath stopped. 10 months. 10 months since they had said their goodbyes on that august night. 10 minutes they had had together since then, and now dean was about to die. Seamus was hardly aware of his own movements. Of his wand arm elevating towards the masked figure, of the spell muttered under his breath. Only aware of the flames that shot from his wand. The flames that saved Dean Thomas’ life.
Indigo was the colour that haunted Seamus’ dreams.
Violet:
violet was the colour of the flowers that lined the Thomas-Finnigan’s front garden.
It has been 5 years since the infamous battle of Hogwarts. Things weren’t perfect of course (and perhaps they never would be), but they were pretty good. Dean and Seamus had tried.
Because, red was the colour of the sheets on the bed they shared. Orange was the colour of their cat that they had brought as a kitten two years ago. Yellow was the colour of the sun as it streamed through their house. Green was the colour of the plants on the kitchen windowsill. Blue was the colour of the sea at the end of their garden. Indigo was the colour of the birds that nested in their tree.
Violet was the name of their daughter, and the start of a new life.