Disclaimer: My mind obviously favours unhappy romances recently. However, while I do own the ragged relationships and lively alliteration in the almost overwhelmingly verbose disclaimers...I do not own anything originally written in the Harry Potter series. That belongs to the riveting writer, J.K. Rowling. I am merely avid reader and an overly fervent fan.

Summary: Sometimes it takes a little Firewhiskey to get things where you want them to be. Even then, relationships aren't about the romance to everyone. Dean/Seamus

A/N: A review or critique is always much appreciated. So is a book signed by J.K. Rowling... But sometimes you don't get all you wish for, even if you click your ruby slippers together three times.

Echoes

Dean and Seamus were simply in button-up shirts and pants. They had left their Gryffindor ties and crest-bearing robes at Hogwarts before sneaking out. No one ever seemed suspicious of them, and they easily ordered Firewhiskeys. They were so used to doing it that there was barely any adventure in it. Still, it was nice to escape school and get to drink. Everyone else always seemed too busy following the rules to really have any fun.

Seamus stumbled out of the pub with Dean at his heels. He roughly grabbed Dean and shoved him against the wall, crushing their lips together. Even though Dean's head smashed against the tavern's walls, he didn't complain. He just let Seamus bite his lower lip, and limply used the wall for support. Seamus pulled away and looked around suspiciously. "No, not here. Anyone might catch us." He grabbed Dean by the arm and pulled him along.

Once Seamus had dragged Dean to an alley and they were completely engulfed in darkness, his tongue assaulted Dean's lips. The taste of Firewhiskey was overwhelming. Seamus had drunk more than usual. "Mm, I love you," Seamus slurred. Dean always found his Irish accent adorable. His hips ground against Dean's and Dean simply moaned, reciprocating the action. Seamus' hands fumbled at the collar, and in the dark, he somehow managed to rip Dean's buttons. Dean could just picture him grinning crookedly in the dark, so satisfied with himself, and he smiled too.

"I love you, too." There wasn't a drunken overtone to Dean's proclamation. It was gentle and true. But Seamus didn't seem to notice. His hands were too busy roaming Dean's chest, and his lips were too busy biting Dean's neck to respond, even if he had noticed. Dean simply shifted his weight so that he leaned against a wall again, and his hands caressed Seamus' shoulders. Seamus' lips moved up and he sucked on Dean's earlobe, chuckling as Dean let out a choked sound.

"Mm, fuck. Let's go back to Hogwarts," Seamus pulled back again, and Dean could only follow his heavy footsteps. When the light shone around the corner, it bathed Seamus in a flickering gold, and Dean simply smiled. They ran to the Grounds laughing. Dean was always a step ahead, but sometimes Seamus would wrap his arms around him, pulling him back. Once they even toppled to the ground, and Seamus sloppily kissed him. With a buzz-filled mind, it seemed like a perfect night.

Dean turned over and stared at the sky. It was silent except for the sound of the grass rustling in the breeze. The Grounds seemed so empty and quiet without any shouts or people running across. Everything stretched all around them, and it felt for a moment that there was no one else in that infinite stretch of land. Dean laid his hand gently on top of Seamus', but Seamus mistook it for something rough and straddled him. The air of peace was broken, and even the wind suddenly seemed to howl. "Inside. Now." Seamus sounded so commanding, and in the faint light, his eyes flickered as if stray embers had settled inside of them. All Dean could do was nod.

They scrambled up and ran to the Gryffindor tower as quickly as they could. In a drunken, lusty haze, the last thing on their mind was to be quiet. But Ms. Norris even must have been sleeping because no one confronted them. Still, with the moans and clattering footsteps, there wasn't a single person who caught them. Giggling, they pulled into the boy's dormitory and listened to everyone else snoring around them. Dean grabbed Seamus around the waist, and they fell onto his bed, drawing the curtains and placing a silencing charm around them.

Seamus wasted no time in pulling Dean's shirt off completely and generally ridding both of them of any clothes they might have on. It was hard to do with their lips glued together, and Dean's hands exploring Seamus. If it weren't for the silencing charm, they would have woken everyone up with their moans. When they both lay completely naked next to each other, Dean couldn't hold out any longer, and he repeated what he had said earlier. "Seamus, I love you." Seamus only chuckled and kissed him on his lips. "Seamus?"

"Mm, I love you too." He continued to lay a trail of kisses down his chest and looked around for his wand. It wasn't on the bed, and when Seamus craned his neck around and couldn't find it in a few seconds, he simply used spit to make the entrance smoother. When he did align and press in, Dean couldn't help but wince, and his fingers tightened around the sheets. It was only when Seamus changed angles that Dean's gasps of pain changed into pleasure. Neither said a word, but their groans and moans told it all. Dean was the first to hit his release, and as he contracted around Seamus, the final spurts of pressure sent Seamus over the edge, too. Both of them cried out as them came, shooting stars flickering in front of their eyes.

Seamus immediately pulled out when they had finished, and they curled up next to each other, the blanket thrown off somewhere else on the floor. The heat from their bodies provided enough warmth, and had anyone looked, they slept sweetly, pressed together with Dean's arm wrapped around Seamus' and a smile on his face. In fact in his sleep, Dean even nuzzled against Seamus, content murmurs pouring out from his dreams.

But when Dean woke, the bed was empty, and he was shivering. It was cold without anyone next to him. His boxers were sitting on the floor, and he put on his clothes slowly and sadly, knowing that it was going to be like all the other times. Seamus would fidget awkwardly around him, staring and blushing at all the wrong moments. Then, Dean knew, if he dared confront him about it, Seamus would get angry about it, yell at him and maybe even hit him. Of course, he would deny it ever happened.

Dean buried his head in his hands, and when he finally looked up, traced the indent in his pillow where Seamus' head had been. It was always the same. He'd get drunk, fuck him, and then refuse to believe it in the morning. And it was useless to ask him why he allowed Seamus to do this to him. That much was already obvious. He loved Seamus, and it took a few Firewhiskeys to get him to say it too. If it meant hurt and pain the next day, he could handle that. The echoes of the slurred 'I love you' always seemed to pull him through.