Title: Save Me
Summary: "Because it's always been Seamus and Dean, but now it's Seamus-and-Dean, joined forever and hanging on by their fingertips." / Happy-ending one-shot, for InkTeardrops.
Prompt: Advent Calendar challenge - DeanSeamus, flashbacks.
Day: Two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.
Notes: This is the second part of my Advent Calendar challenge, and is written for one of the best authors, in my opinion, on this site - InkTeardrops. Happy birthday, you fabulous person, you! I hope you all like it (Ella especially)! And if this isn't already one of your favourite pairings... well, firstly, what on earth are you doing here? And secondly, you'll soon be converted, I hope. Enjoy!
"Because maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me; and after all, you're my wonderwall." - Oasis, Wonderwall.
Seamus runs through the halls of Hogwarts, all crumbling into dust. He spares a thought for the castle - mighty Hogwarts, who has stood for centuries and protected those inside her walls - before he tears round another corner, firing off spells the colour of emerald and amber and red.
"Come on, ducky, don't you want to play?" He hears, and he runs towards the voice, because the thought of Bellatrix and Dean is enough to pump the needed adrenaline through his system.
Instead, Seamus stumbles across Bellatrix and Parvati, who is writhing on the ground in pain. Bellatrix pounces.
Seamus grabs Parvati's arm, drags her up, and sprints.
Bellatrix screams behind them, though he doesn't know why, but he is hand and hand with his fellow Gryffindor and he is going to get them out. Seamus fires numerous curses behind them, wordless too, and doesn't dare to even look at the carnage they're leaving behind.
He manages to get Parvati safely in the third floor corridor, and slumps against the wall, breathing heavily.
Parvati clutches her arm and stares at him with wide eyes.
"My hero," she says only half-jokingly, fluttering her eyelashes. "Seamus, thank you. Thank you.I hate to think what would happen if-"
"Parvati, where's Dean?"
She blinks at him. "I think - I think I saw him go up to the Astronomy tower, but Seamus, you can't go there. Dolohov and Crabbe followed him, I think, and we're as safe as we can be here, and - where are you going? Seamus?"
"I have to find him," Seamus tells her, his hands shaking in anticipation. "Parvati, I have to. Just - just stay here, for me, please? Rest your arm. They won't come for ya here."
"How can you-" Parvati's incredulous voice cuts off as he slams the oak door.
He has to find Dean.
"Oh, you're too cute," Dean drawls as Seamus sticks out his tongue. "Now, stay still. There's a good dog." His hand flies across the parchment, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Seamus shuffles nervously, his foot twitching. He cranes his neck to see the drawing.
"Hey, no peeking... Oi!" Dean shouts when he takes the parchment and holds it up to the light.
It's him, of course it is, and he's sprawled out on the stone floor, looking out of one of the windows in the Astronomy tower. His face is half covered by darkness, but the other half is eliminated by the night sky so lovingly sketched behind him.
"Jesus, Dean," he breathes, holding it at different angles as though to find just one imperfection.
"Shay, come on," Dean tells him sternly. "Give it back."
"Give what back?" Seamus replies childishly, and he dances over to the edge. His hand shakes as he holds the paper; he waves it to mask the shivers. "This?" He slowly, slowly, stretches out his arm, and dangles the paper over the side.
He gulps, as though he's dangling himself.
"This isn't funny," Dean whispers shakily, but he doesn't step any closer. His eyes are fixed on the paper.
"I'm not gonna drop it, stupid," Seamus tells him with a laugh, but he feels shivers crawling up his spine and his eyelids flutter. He's nervous. He can't tell you why.
"What are ya scared of, Dean?" He murmurs, and he takes a step closer to the edge. Dean gasps and ever so slightly, leans forward, his arm outstretched as though to catch Seamus, though he doesn't fall. He can't fall. Up here, he's invincible. Doesn't Dean know that?
"That you'll fall," he replies, almost inaudibly.
"I'm not gonna fall," Seamus tells him softly; Dean nods.
"I know. I'm afraid of that too."
Seamus slams past an invisible object - Harry, he thinks belatedly - and runs up various staircases and through various corridors, not even firing spells; just running. He doesn't stop, and he can't afford to. Dean's life is at stake here. Dean is at stake.
"I don't like people who take my toys away," a voice murmurs behind him, silky and soft, like a snake slithering through the long grass, ready to strike.
"She wasn't your toy," Seamus growls back, and his hand twitches at his side. He's scared; he's never been scared before, not really. But he is now, there's no doubt about that. No one is fearless, after all. Not even him. "She's a little girl."
"Oh, a little girl? Are you her prince?" Bellatrix takes a step forward, grinning wildly. "Her knight in shining armour, perhaps?"
Seamus shakes his head, over and over. No. NO.
He looks to the staircase behind him, the one that is crumbling as they speak, it and him falling to pieces together. Bellatrix cackles, flanked by Dolohov and Crabbe.
"I've got it all wrong!" She says with glee, twisting a lock of black hair through her fingers. "You're not anyone's prince at all! You're the damsel. Oh, isn't that darling? Is your prince waiting for you, dear?" Her smiles falls and her expression turns vicious. "What a shame."
"I don't have time to play games, Bellatrix," he says sharply, and he takes a step back, almost against one of the stone, broken walls now.
"You know me! I'm so delighted. I'm afraid I haven't yet had the pleasure of making your acquaintance," she giggles.
"Seamus Finnigan," he drawls, and he takes another step back. "The pleasure's all mine, I'm sure." He bows low, his wand already pointing upwards. He smirks at her. "After all, how many people have the honour of meeting Voldemort's bitch?"
Bellatrix shrieks in rage, and lunges forward. Seamus takes a deep breath.
"REDUCTO!" He shouts at the falling ceiling, and the force of the spell, so angry, cracks his wand, breaks it to its core and renders it useless.
But though the damage doesn't crush Bellatrix, it gives Seamus time to sprint up the stairs, sprint towards Dean and away from the madwoman with flyaway hair and far away eyes.
"So ya draw a lot then?" Thirteen year old Seamus asks Dean, leaning forwards and looking at the little sketch of McGonagall. "You're good, mate."
"Practise," Dean murmurs, his hand flying once more across the parchment. "A lot of it."
"Nah, I know talent when I see it. Me mam always said that she knew I'd be gifted in pyro-something-or-other after the third time I imploded our kitchen." They're both silent for a few moments, before Seamus sits up. "So... what do ya draw? Anything?"
"People, mainly," he replies. "People like... you."
"Really?" Seamus grins at his friend, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, and tilting his head to the side to study Dean. "Me? Little ol' Seamus Finnigan?"
"Shut it, you," Dean replies with a smirk. "It's only 'cause you're around so much; I just can't get rid of you."
Seamus sniffs. "Ya haven't tried very hard, now, have ya?"
"Why are you scared of heights?"
"What?" Dean turns to Seamus, wide-eyed and confused. He blinks slowly, and his hand stops moving across his paper, Ron's bed only half-formed and his curtains one blank line. Seamus stares at him, and doesn't move. He needs to know. He won't let Dean hide; not this time.
"Heights, Dean. I'm not stupid. I've noticed," Seamus says casually, thinking of staircases and windows and Quidditch stands.
"Dunno," he mutters, and shrugs. He rubs the back of his neck, and Seamus sighs impatiently. "Got pushed down three flights of stairs when I was little, 'cause I was called a freak. They wanted to see if I could fly." He takes a deep breath. "We were only seven. They didn't know any-"
"Don't ya dare say that they didn't know any better," he growls, standing up and stalking over to the bed where Dean sits, rolling his pencil between his thumb and forefinger.
"They didn't, though," Dean protests. "Neither did I. Kind of... stuck with me, for a while."
"Longer than a while, mate," Seamus says softly, and uncharacteristically. "Come on. Let's go see if we can't drag Neville into a game of Exploding Snap."
The thing is, with beginnings, is that someday they have to end.
Dean is cowered in a corner, cramping against the stone wall, the other half of the tower crumbling around him. Seamus leaps over a particularly large piece of debris, and hugs Dean. Just stays silent and holds him close, feeling his heartbeat, even revelling in the small, shallow cut on his forehead. He still has blood to bleed. He's still alive.
He leans forward and grabs Seamus back, grasping at his shirt as though he's already falling. Seamus looks around, and down at the blocked off staircase.
There's no way down but... down.
"We have to go, Dean," he murmurs, and he strokes Dean's bloody, matted hair with a shaking hand. He's alive. He's alive.
"Where?" Dean asks just as quietly, shaking like a leaf, hovering so close to the edge of the tower, so close to all his fears. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut and doesn't look down. Seamus doesn't blame him, not one bit. It's a long way down.
"Down," Seamus answers ruefully, but bluntly. Dean has to know. He's not stupid. Not like Seamus.
"God," he mutters against Seamus' neck. His lips press ever so slightly against his collarbone and they both gasp. Near the floor, their fingers intertwine and hang on even tighter.
"Now isn't the time."
"No time better than the present," Dean replies with a gentle, quivering smirk. The lips return, definitely kissing his neck now. Seamus gives up, puts a hand under his chin, and kisses him properly.
Their lips meet, and though there aren't any fireworks, and the earth doesn't stop turning, it's perfect. Seamus smiles into Dean's mouth.
If the stars were visible, they would align right here, right at this moment. Because it's always been Seamus and Dean, but now it's Seamus-and-Dean, joined forever and hanging on by their fingertips. Seamus-and-Dean against the world and all the times it's tried to push them down.
They pull away, to catch their breath. The free fall begins again.
"We have to do it, Dean," Seamus tells him, and Dean nods. They both look down, and stand up slowly.
Seamus holds Dean close again, pushing his head down until it rests against his shoulder. He feels rather than sees Dean close his eyes.
Their fingertips hold on tighter than ever.
"Do you trust me?" Seamus asks, has to ask, and he takes a step closer to the edge, his toes hovering over it, toeing the line and all it entails. Dean nods. He says, "Don't look down," just in case. He thinks he starts to cry, as he holds on one moment longer.
Seamus rolls his head to the side, not daring to open his eyes, because he can see the sunlight even with his eyelids close.
His fingers twitch against the soft covers.
"For Merlin's sake, is anyone going to bloody well stop that godforsaken beeping?" He growls, finally opening his eyes. There's one scream of delight - his mother - one sigh of relief - his father - and one moment of silence before arms encircle him, tight but comforting. Dean.
"Ya would've thought I'd come back from the dead," Seamus drawls, but he hugs Dean back as well as he can. There's a lot of pain in his back and legs especially, pin pricks all down his body and a thumping headache, but he doesn't think he's felt happier.
"You practically did, love," Dean tells him, and Seamus has to backtrack over the sentence, play it multiple times over in his head, then save it for future perusal.
"Seemed appropriate." Dean shrugs, and strokes his head. "We fell and - and you basically cushioned my landing, if you believe it. You tilted yourself so that you took most of the impact." His eyebrows were scrunched together in what looked like guilt and pain and relief and sadness and love, all rolled into one basic forehead movement.
"All part of me great plan," he replies with a half smile. Dean shakes his head.
"Bloody awful plan. Even Lavender could find a flaw in it, and that's saying something. Like, say, when you decided to hurtle the both of us off the Astronomy tower?"
"It was only half the Astronomy tower," Seamus points out. Dean rolls his eyes.
"If there was anything more beside the point-" He cuts himself off, and shakes his head again. "Well, you damaged your spine, mostly, and had a head injury like you'd been locked in a closet with three hungry Bludgers."
"Quidditch reference. Never use the Quidditch reference."
"Sorry," Dean apologises with a smile. He looks down sadly, his hand still stroking Seamus' head. "Why did you do it, Seamus?"
"It was between starving to death, getting killed by the mad one woman downstairs, getting crushed by the other half of the Astronomy tower, or jumping off the building and hoping we get out alive. There weren't that many options, love."
"I really hate you," he says, and to Seamus' horror, his eyes fill up slightly. "Don't do that again, you hear me? And for God's sake, if we come back for our eighth year, I am not doing Astronomy."
Seamus nods readily, before looking around the hospital ward, recognising it as St Mungo's by the guy sneezing Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Bean down the other end.
"Who won, by the way?"
"The Hammers," Dean answers, still smirking that goddamned smirk again. Seamus recognises the football reference and smiles in relief. "You saved me," Dean whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Finally, he leans back against the pillows, closing his eyes and ignoring the pain, just this once. He's with Dean. Dean is alive.
It's worth it.