The Aftermath

Chapter 2

Dean was sitting on his bed. He had his sketchbook in hand absentmindedly drawing. Going back to school to redo his last year wasn't something he'd envisioned himself doing but the diploma would come in handy if he wanted a job. As he thought that he chuckled lightly. Seamus, his best friend, would tell him to skip out on education. In his mind it was clear Dean was going to be an artist or a musician. Or get a some weird muggle job that Seamus didn't understand.

Seamus was definitely a bad influence. A whole lot of energy for such a tiny man. Dean was one of many children and the only wizard in his family. His mother took the news gracefully. His father, well he didn't even know if he was a muggle-born or a half-blood because he had no idea who his father was. He'd tried to find out. Even by magical means. There just wasn't enough there to find him. His was the only child from his father. His mom conceived him during a drunken encounter so she said. Out partying and he happened.

He really wished he could find him but his adopted father was awesome enough, that was until he lost his life to a traffic accident.  Didn't get to see him off on his first day to Hogwarts only a few weeks after as a result. It was dificult going off to school after tradgedy but somehow he managed.

All his siblings older and younger were from the same man and here he was the product of the one year in his mom's life when she absolutely hated her boyfriend, not husband, at the time. Which he found hard to believe because they got on so well. Whatever it was his adoptive father never made that mistake again. And neither of his parents cared to bring it up. It had to be really bad. Even his older siblings wouldn't tell him.

He sighed trying to get back to happy thoughts. It had been a rough year. Being thrown into war at such a young age. Being out of contact from home for months. His mother said it was hard looking at muggle news and knowing that something much more sinister was actually going on. And him being trapped in the school with no contact had them all on edge. He thiught back to the day he finally came home not to long ago.

It was a typical grey England day. The rain was coming down hard and he was standing on the front steps of their home knocking on the door. His mom didn't give him a chance to come into the house. She stepped outside and squeezed him as tight as she could in the rain. He hugged her back and they cried for a while. He'd been hit by a few dangerous hexes and although heald was still in a bit of pain. Somehow it all melted away in her arms. She admitted to him then for the first time that with all she learned about being a wizard she always feared each year he might not return from school. But this time she really felt it to be true.

There was a clear sense of dread in the house that he felt lift the moment he walked in. Even his older siblings who had moved out or were in college were in the house. His mom had to be in a real bad way for them to be there. Now, a few weeks later, here he was safe in his room and his mom was back to her super-confident mom self as if nothing had happened. But it had. There was no arguing that seeing that much death changes you, matures you especially when a lot of those that died you'd spent six years of your life with; more time than spent with your own family.

It was hard but he was coping. Trying to find the happy now that the war was over. He looked down at his drawing and sighed. Frustrated. It was an exploding cauldron. He was trying his hardest to not draw a certain someone but had ended up indirectly drawing them anyway. He picked up his guitar and begun to play. He hadn't played not once the last year. His younger siblings started to come into the room as he played but he didn't know as he was sitting on his bed looking in the other direction. When he was almost done an owl flew onto the window and started tapping on it with determination.

"Alright. I'm coming." He recognised what family this owl belonged to. He heard his siblings sigh in disappoint and then run through the house shouting about how he'd been 'owled'. They were never going to stop finding this mode of messaging funny. Especially when a text was so much faster. Dean made a mental note to teach Seamus how to use a cellphone.

Seamus wanted to know who was going to visit who this summer. Dean thought heading out to Ireland could be fun. Something different to switch things up. Before responding he decided to grab some lunch. His mother directed him to the food and the position of the microwave. Clearly he was feeding himself. He heated up some pasta and sauce then sat down at the table.

"So feeling better?"

"Yeah, no nightmares." He realised he had forgotten his juice on the counter so he floated it over to him. The joys of being able to legally do magic outside of school. His mom smiled slightly. It was no secret he was her favourite child. Most of that born out of the fact he spent so much time at boarding school in a world she was just not a part of.

"It's funny though. To see the boy you shared a room with take down the most dangerous man in centuries. I'm just glad I'm alive still. Looking forward to seeing all my friends but..." He took a few bites of food before continuing.

"It'll be weird. Knowing the school was a wreck when I last saw it but it will look the same after they fix it over summer. It will be the same, but it won't. War mum. War. At my age, in this century, an honest to goodness war. I'll never forget that."

His mother let some silence stand for a while. Well as much she could with a house of new teens and preteens. But at least Dean was being silent. She left to go shout at the kids for a while and when she returned Dean was cleaning off his plate.

"You know if it wasn't for that store clerk who happened to be a witch we would've went into the magic world completely blind. Imagine me sitting on the couch with an owl dropping a letter on your lap. I would've lost it."

"Yes. Raving lunatic you'd have been. But lucky for us, accidental magic happened around someone who could help. I couldn't imagine knowing nothing like Harry did. That's a long time to know nothing of who you are."

"Have you heard from Seamus yet." She couldn't help but smile at how he blushed a bit when she mentioned his best mates name.

"Mum don't play. You know he just sent me a message."

"That owl could've been from anyone. You know how they like to tease you. I can only assume they are right this time, yeah?"  he refused to respond so she continued talking. "Are you ever going to,"

"Can we not talk about this right now."

"You're so cute when you're embarrassed." She said and Dean retreated to his room to send his response. Maybe he'd finally get up the nerve to express his feelings. Then maybe his mom and everyone in this house would stop teasing him. His mom came in shortly after. He cursed under his breath. She was not going to let him avoid this topic. Evil woman that she was.

"Dean far be it for me to meddle in your life,"

"Just you saying that is meddling," he said giving her the best glare he could. She ignored him and picked up his sketchbook.

"I'm just saying in all the times I've gone through your book you have never drawn him this much. There isn't anything in this whole sketchbook except for explosions and him. You don't even have any pictures from the war. You can't hold onto this forever."

"I know mum. But where would I even start? He's my best mate. The first friend I made at Hogwarts. My little,"

"Pyro." They shared a laugh.

"What if he doesn't want to be my friend anymore. What if it all blows up in my face like one of his spells."

"You're young still. But you're also a Gryffindor. Maybe it's time to be brave." She gave him a side hug and kissed him on the forehead before leaving the room. Maybe she was right. Instead of thinking about stepping up to the plate he should just do it. It would never be easy but he couldn't get the guy of his mind or off his pages. It was time. Or maybe not. Maybe after they were in school. No need to rush it after all. He picked up his guitar and decided not to think about the contents of his art, at least not for the rest of the day.