denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance

depression

"When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him." -Madeline Miller

He had to be here, somewhere. Alive, breathing. Maybe he was getting patched up? Dean knew the great hall was giant, so it was plausible the tall boy simply hadn't seen Seamus yet. His head echoed with whispered words, but he couldn't accept them as truth. No. There was nothing to accept, because they were lies. He couldn't be dead. Shay was simply getting a scratch or two healed, somewhere in a corner, or hidden behind something, out of sight. Worst case scenario, his arm or some other body part had been injured seriously. That would be ok. Not his first choice, obviously, but then he would still be alive. The dark skinned student headed towards a lady in an apron who seemed to be shouting instructions to other healers. She would know where the irish boy was.

Dean's brown eyes scanned the people sitting on the benches, looking for the familiar face that always managed to make him smile, without fail. He reached the woman quickly, and his voice held a hint of fear as he asked about Seamus Finnigan. The woman shook her head, and again at his frantic description. Panic set in almost instantly. No. It couldn't be what his brain had been whispering to him. The healer just hadn't seen to him personally. "Seamus!" He desperately shouted, seeing heads turn in his direction. He didn't care: they didn't matter right now. Only one person was important. His plead was met with silence. Dean caught a flicker of movement, and turned excitedly, feeling a second of relief, only to see Luna Lovegood approaching him. The Ravenclaw never had had a serious expression on her face, but she did now, along with an enormous amount of pity. This frightened him more than he ever imagined it could. Panic was overwhelming him.

"Luna, please tell me you know where he is?" He begged, and a tiny jolt of shock breached his panic and anxiety as the blonde took his hand and led him towards a long row of sheets on the ground. He attempted to pull away, eyes widening, but the Ravenclaw held his hand with an iron grip. "L-Luna, no, please. Please no. Please don't tell me he's there." Dean pleaded, trying to stop the smaller girl, but she seemed to have more control of her strength at this point in time than he did. The girl pulled him to the end of the line of white sheets. Even though it hurt to see people he knew dead-Remus, Colin Creevy, Fred Weasley-one face would effectively slaughter him. His eyes snapped closed as Luna slowed, and then they stopped. He couldn't open his eyes. His brain knew. It had been right. Dean... Dean couldn't look. No. He could take the death of anyone... Everyone but him. The girl beside him whispered for him to open his eyes, and he petulantly shook his head. H-he couldn't. What was in front of him could possibly break him for good.

Without his consent, his eyes slowly opened. Dean's sight fell on the mousy brown hair and lifeless blue eyes staring up at him and an anguished sob escaped his throat, a sound that made people flinch and even more heads turn to the scene. The tall boy fell, his legs unable to support him any longer, gravity too strong. Silence fell over the great hall as the Gryffindor collapsed, crawling over to the lifeless body. "Seamus. Shay. P-please, please wake up." He implored through his sobs. Tears snaked uninhibited down his cheeks, dripping onto the boy beneath him. He knew the Irish boy wasn't sleeping. His brain had been telling him how his search would conclude from the moment he walked into the hall.

The dark skinned boy smashed his lips onto the cold, unresponsive ones, shocking few people. Everyone who had ever spoken to to the boy knew Dean loved Seamus, but the latter never noticed, and the first was too afraid to tell him, afraid of rejection, of loosing the Irishman over it. Now he'd never get the chance. A few people cried for the boy, for the lost love, the broken figure keening over the dead body. The taller man pulled away, gasping for air, though he could hardly breathe anyways. How could he breathe when the love of his life lie lifeless beneath him. He wished desperately that the body would try to take its own panting breaths, but Seamus' chest didn't move. Dean's tears were a torrential downpour now, ceaseless. Broken sobs left his lips. Dean's sounds suddenly stopped, and those close enough realized that he was sobbing so hard, no sound came out. "I didn't even get to tell you that I loved you." He managed to say to his unhearing friend.

Two men, Neville and Terry Boot, a Hufflepuff from their year, approached, but their faces were blurs to Dean. They leaned down and grabbed him by his upper arms, pulling him away from the cold body. He couldn't leave Seamus. The grieving student kicked wildly and screamed unintelligible words, fighting to get back to the body being slowly covered once more by the white sheets. An burly healer joined the battle, helping drag the now lively man away from his love. "No, please!" He wailed, and the people who still remained in the presence of his unending grief felt their hearts shatter just a fraction more.

The funeral was simple. Friends and family only, back where Seamus was born, where he lived up until Hogwarts, where he lived before he had met Dean. At another time, visiting for another purpose, the man was sure Ireland was beautiful. Rolling hills, nice breeze, bright sunshine. Peaceful. For Dean, everything was grey. Grey, boring, silent... Cold. Words of apology rolled right over him, and he replied with noncommittal words he couldn't remember seconds later. He was deaf to anything besides the memories replaying in his head.

Meeting Seamus for the first time: watching him step nervously up to the staff table, sitting on the three-legged, and feeling strangely happy when the hat called the same house it had called for him. He had taken the empty seat next to the Irishman, and he knew they wouldn't remain just housemates. Asking him to be his first wizard friend with a shy smile, getting an enthusiastic nod in return.

Stealing food from the kitchens. Playing pranks. Goofing off in class and in the common room. Sharing answers for assignments. Playing chess, purposely loosing to catch Seamus' dazzling grin... His accent. His laugh. The sparkle in his eyes, the bright light in them, clearly displaying the mischief and excitement that seemed to be his constant mood. The way he looked when he slept, a beautiful peaceful expression on his face. Much like the one that was currently on his lifeless corpse. Dean was silent throughout the whole ordeal. Silent as words were spoken, other's recalling their own memories. Silent as the casket was closed. Silent as it was lowered into the ground. Silent as it was buried, as family and friends slowly left back to wherever they went.

Dean hadn't moved from the chair he had been instructed to sit in at the beginning of the ceremony, his eyes locked on the patch of fresh dirt, and the dark black stone. They didn't stray as Seamus' mother sat next to him. The woman had tear tracks down her face that she hadn't wiped away. The teen's face was completely dry. A sigh came from her, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet and trembled slightly. "Seamus... You were his best friend. He talked about you all the time." She seemed to hesitate before adding her next words. "He... He told me that he loved you. Before he left for school... I thought you should know that..." The dark skinned boy's lower lip trembled, but he said nothing. Sensing she would get no reply, she patted his shoulder and stood, leaving the small family graveyard.

Dean finally stood after everyone had left, walking slowly over to the grave, kneeling down next to it. Only then did he let his tears fall again, slowly laying down next the the plot of dirt in his spotless suit, his tears soaking the freshly lain dirt.

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Written in the last couple months of 2015 as a midnight feel vent. Hope someone likes it?