The Yule Ball | Deamus

Chapter Three

Over the next few days Dean was slightly improving with acting normal around Seamus. Admittedly, it was quite difficult, but he was beginning to worry about ruining their friendship.

Even if he couldn't have Seamus in the way he wanted, it was still better to have him as a friend than to not have him at all.

"I reckon Harry's gonna win the Twiwizard tournament," Seamus said, while sprawled out on the common room floor.

They were supposed to be writing an essay for Professor McGonagall, though neither boy was very focused at all. Dean could feel the heat of the fireplace against his cheek, it was a nice warmth contrasting with the unusual cool draft that had entered the castle that evening. Hogwarts had also seen its first snow, and thus Seamus has suggested going outside for a snowball fight the next day. Dean had gladly agreed, hopeful for some normalcy in his life.

Through the window the thin ray of sun began to gradually grow smaller until it disappeared entirely. There was an incident in herbology that afternoon that had resulted in the fourth year Gryffindors having some extra time before dinner. Professor sprout had suggested that everyone get caught up on their work, "your o.w.l's will catch up to you before you know it!" and Dean really had tried, but failed miserably.

When Dean looked up at Seamus the boy looked about ready to fall asleep. His head was laid down upon the parchment, his quill just inches from his face. Dean carefully set aside both the quill and ink, in case he happened to knock it over.

Dean did all in his power to not stare at his best friend too much, and all things considered, he thought that he was doing a rather good job. He didn't want to be creepy, but he didn't get very much time to look at Seamus, not when they were only supposed to be friends. But Dean thought that Seamus had the most beautiful face he had ever seen, and so he wanted to look at it, just like any person on this world liked to look at pretty things.

All Dean could do was stare down at his own blank parchment. There was a small blotch of ink near the top where he had planned to begin writing but simply could not find the worlds. There were a million words in his head, though, none of which were about his transfiguration essay.

So he began to write.

He had felt worried at first that perhaps the scratching of his quill against the parchment would wake Seamus, but he was sound asleep, with a tiny bit of drool escaping from his slightly parted lips.

When he had finished his heart was pounding. He stared down at the letter he had written, a letter to no one really.

Hello.

There's this boy that I'm starting to develop feelings for. But that's just it. He's a boy, and so am I. I've tried to ignore it but they keep growing stronger and I can't do it anymore.

I just don't know what to do. I can't tell him, because I already know he doesn't feel the same. I just know he's beginning to suspect that something is off. What if I destroy our friendship? Why can't I just put my feelings aside? It's just impossible when he's the prettiest boy I've ever seen.

It was at this point that he had faltered and lost the words to say. There was so much about Seamus that he could talk about, but he wasn't even sure what the point of this letter was, if not to just talk about his best friend. Quite frankly, he could go on forever if that was the case.

He just wanted to know what to do, he supposed. He just wished that there was someone out there that could tell him.

It was at that moment that Seamus lifted his head from the parchment paper on the floor, which had stuck to his face for a moment. Dean had just been rolling up his parchment as Seamus was sitting up.

"Oh, mate, are you done?" Seamus said, peaking through the hole of the rolled up parchment as if that could show him what was written.

Dean was already panicking as he stuffed it into his rucksack. This was something he had not anticipated, but really should have prepared for.

"Oh, this? It's really nothing," he said. "I couldn't figure out what to write either, mostly doodles."

He hated lying to Seamus, but the idea of him seeing the letter somehow seemed to be far worse. It wouldn't take that much brain power to figure out that the letter was about him.

After that Seamus didn't question him further, as it wasn't too unusual for Dean to want to hide his drawings, especially as of lately.

***

As it was getting late, Dean had to nearly run to make it to the owelry with enough time to get back to the common room. With it being such a late hour, he was pleased to find it deserted.

He didn't own an owl, so he picked one of the school owls he figured would be well enough for the task. Though what exactly the task was, he really wasn't sure.

He attached to letter to the barn owls leg and said to her, "take this to someone who can help me. And if there's no one I suppose just dump it into a river. Just don't let it get into the wrong hands."

Dean's heart was pounding as he watched the owl take flight. What exactly was he doing? Anyone he knew might recognize his handwriting, and if it did somehow get into the wrong hands. . . He didn't even want to think about it.

***

A/n: I'm sorry it's been so long. But finally, here's another update. I have some more inspiration to keep going with this story so I'm really going to try, but I'm also focusing on some originals right now and I'm super busy with other things too so I just don't have a lot of time. I'm hoping for an update every week though.