Confessions and Epiphanies of a Gay, Black Wizard

[gretagarbled.livejournal.com]

 

Title: Confessions and Epiphanies of a Gay, Black Wizard.
Author: authoress_girl
Part: 6/6
Other pairings/characters: Dean/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Seamus/Blaise
Rating: NC-17, methinks.
Fair Warnings: Het, fair bit of language, non-chronological timeline, sex and angst.

Summary: Dean’s Hogwarts career and beyond, as seen through the twin lenses of race and sexuality.
Disclaimer: Wait, this story isn’t canon? No, I don’t own them.

Author's Notes: I was thinking about writing a really comprehensive essay on race and sexuality in Harry Potter, but then I realised how hard it would be to write a full-length paper on a handful of minor characters and one old man who likes knitting patterns, so this story was born. Also, it’s my first fanfic, so thorough and honest concrit would be much appreciated :) My eternal gratitude goes to swissmarg  for her amazing and incredibly comprehensive beta skills. All mistakes are mine.
 

 

 

If the beginning of fifth year marked how Dean couldn’t stop staring at him, then spring of the same year marked the first argument that ever ran a real risk of ruining their friendship forever.

 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you’re running around with that twat,” Seamus whispered viciously as Dean walked into the Gryffindor room room, a small contingent of his fellow DA-ers behind him.

 

Dean frowned. It was an old argument, and he knew that Seamus was more scared than angry what with the events of last year and his mum feeding him all that nonsense cobbled from The Daily Prophet and the general air of confusion and worry that pervaded Hogwarts thanks to Umbridge, but it was no excuse. Seamus knew Harry; he had lived with the boy for the better part of five years, for crying out loud.

 

“I’m not ‘running around’ with him. He’s set up a Defence Against the Dark Arts club. If you want to defy Umbridge, you can join. If you want to be prepared for the shit that’s going to hit the fan in the next year or so, you can join. If you just want to pass your OWL or NEWT, you can join.”

 

“And you really believe his stupid story?” Seamus asked angrily, not bothering to lower his voice.

 

“Well, how else do you explain Cedric Diggory dying? How else do you explain the Ministry sticking their noses in when it comes to Hogwarts? How else do you explain that Harry looks like he’s going to fucking fall apart at any minute?” Dean roared back. “I know your mum doesn’t believe any of it, Seamus, but you’re fifteen, for fuck’s sake! You should be old enough to work this shit out for yourself! You’re not a child anymore!”

 

He saw the stone-hard glint in Seamus’ eyes and knew that it was a lost cause. He made a disgusted noise and stormed up to the dormitory, not bothering to shut the door quietly on his way in.

 

                                                            *                                  *                                  *

 

It took three weeks of hostile, awkward silences and sleeping alone. It took another week and a half of Dean hanging out with Neville and his Herbology friends and Seamus skulking around alone. It took a public apology to Harry. It took an awkward reconciliation and a chocolate binge and Seamus going to the DA meeting despite a bit of residual hostility between him and Harry, but eventually Dean and Seamus became friends again.

 

“Can you... can you forgive me?” Seamus asked, standing by Dean’s bed and wringing his hands.

 

“I don’t know. Have you stopped being an idiot?” Dean asked bluntly.

 

Seamus seemed to think about it. “I think so.”

 

Dean smiled despite himself. “I suppose we can spend some time together, then.”

 

Seamus grinned. “Budge up, then,” he said, and climbed into Dean’s bed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Seamus’ mum had told them to go bed hours ago, but Dean and Seamus were in such high spirits that such a demand was almost impossible to fulfil.

 

“Ireland’s playing tomorrow!” Seamus whispered excitedly from somewhere around Dean’s shoulder; the darkness in their tent made it hard to tell.

 

“I did guess that. I mean, there is an enchanted field of shamrocks outside,” Dean replied dryly.

 

Seamus hit him lightly. “Stop being such a spoilsport. My nation is playing in the Quidditch World Cup final tomorrow evening. I think that’s worthy of a little repetition, thank you.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Drama queen.”

 

Seamus sighed. “You have no sense of occasion. Honestly.”

 

“I have plenty of ‘sense of occasion’. It’s in bed, like we’re meant to be.”

 

Seamus made a grumpy sound in his throat. “G’night, Thomas.”

 

“Sleep tight, Finnegan.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

His DA Galleon burning hot in his pocket, Dean climbed out of the secret passageway and into a room he’d never seen before; it looked like something out of Treasure Island, but decked in Hogwarts colours. Helping Luna out of the entrance and looking around, he saw lots of familiar faces: Harry, Ron and Hermione, Neville, Lavender, Terry Boot, Parvati, Padma and –

 

“Dean!” A familiar lilting voice called his name, but he couldn’t place where it had come from. Then a skinny, battered boy waved at him and grinned with gappy teeth.

 

“Seamus?” Dean breathed and before he knew he was moving, he was standing in front of Seamus, stroking the ugly bruises and cuts that covered the skin that was now paler than ever. “Who did this to you?”

 

Seamus shook his head and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now,” he whispered, taking Dean’s hands. “You came back.”

 

Dean smiled. “I couldn’t stay away.” He kissed Seamus tentatively, but stopped when he winced. “Let me do something about these, Seamus.”

 

Seamus shook his head. “No, it’s fine, I’ve managed–”

 

Dean interrupted Seamus by gently taking his wand out of his hand and silently casting healing spells over his bruises and cuts, one by one. There was a long scar on his lip that refused to heal whatever Dean did to it.

 

Seamus shook his head. “That one was caused by a curse. I think the scar’s permanent.”

 

“It suits you. Makes you look rugged. You’ll be pushing the ladies away with a Bludger.”

 

Seamus laughed, the sound strange in the terse silence that filled the room, punctuated by explosions and crashes that could be heard outside. “We can’t have that, can we?” He looked down at the floor, frowning. “Dean, if something happens to either of us–”

 

“Then the pleasure, the privilege will have been all mine,” Dean quoted. Seamus cocked his head in confusion. Dean shook his head. “It’s a song.” He opened his mouth to say more but found that he couldn’t say anymore. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because Seamus understood.

 

“Together?” he asked.

 

“Together,” Dean replied firmly.

 

                                                            *                                  *                                  *

 

He’d known it was over even before he heard the dull thud of Voldemort’s body hit the stone floor of the Great Hall. Dean watched the battle between Harry and Voldemort with some kind of sick fascination, the heat of their curses singeing some of the stubble on his face. And almost before it had even properly begun, it was over. The sun was rising, and there was birdsong in the shocked moment of silence, and suddenly a noise broke over the Hall like a wave hitting the shore and he was being swept over to Harry in the sheer multitude of people. He caught Harry’s eye for a few seconds and smiled at him sadly. There had been too much loss and pain and sacrifice for outright jubilation.

 

Harry grabbed his arm and held on tightly. “You remember in sixth year when you told me to look after Ginny?” he roared over the din. Dean frowned and nodded. Harry pulled him closer and whispered in his ear. “Do the same for Seamus.” With a grin that made him look both less and more like the scrawny boy Dean had known in his first year at Hogwarts, he let go and disappeared into the crowd. Dean fought his way out and found Seamus. Without a word, the two of them joined hands and made their way out of the Great Hall.

 

As soon as they were standing in the seventh year Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, Dean gave Seamus a kiss that left both of them breathless and dizzy with arousal. Dean could feel the spectre of the last time he’d embraced Seamus here pressing down on the both of them and he wanted to banish that memory and all of the fear and desperation that came with it.

 

“I want you,” Seamus said between kisses. Dean pulled back to look at him properly; Seamus’ pupils were so dilated that the blue-green was almost swallowed up completely. Dean felt as if he’d fall in if he looked too long. “All of you,” Seamus continued, and pressed a palm to Dean’s crotch to clarify his point. Dean gasped.

 

“I’ve waited too long, Dean,” Seamus was babbling now. “You saw what happened down there, people are dead, they’ve gone and I don’t want to die before having done this with you, I can’t–”

 

Dean kissed him again to shut him up and, with trembling fingers, undid the buttons on Seamus’ shirt and pulled the garment off. Seamus did the same for him and didn’t stop there; Dean could feel his fingers trailing his spine, fumbling at his zipper and stroking his face, and the blur of sensation continued until they were both standing naked before each other. He could feel the blazing heat of Seamus’ erection digging into his hip, and he had a sudden onslaught of nerves. What if Seamus hurt him? What if he hurt Seamus? They’d fooled around towards the end of their sixth year, yeah, but there had been no time for them to get really serious before Dumbledore died and the war started in earnest. He looked back into Seamus’ eyes and felt tranquillity settle in his bones. It would be fine, more than fine. Things always were with Seamus.

 

He curled a sure, firm hand around Seamus’ cock and was satisfied when he made a rumbling sound in his throat.

 

“Dean,” Seamus whispered into his chest. “Let’s do this in my bed.” Seamus took him by the hand and Dean let go of his cock. They looked at each other uncertainly before they both leaned into another kiss and Seamus pushed them both down and straddled Dean. Seamus had been right to say they should move to the bed, because it felt different like this. More serious, somehow.

 

“I want you in me,” Seamus muttered as he licked his earlobe and Dean froze. Seamus looked at him with what would have been a glare if his eyes weren’t half-lidded with desire. “Don’t look at me like that, Dean. I know you want this just as much as I do.” Here, he grasped Dean’s cock again and Dean couldn’t stifle the groan that ripped out of him. “It’s been so fucking long. And I’ve already said that I want you. Let me show you.”

 

Dean nodded; he couldn’t speak with Seamus doing that with his hand. Seamus got off suddenly and searched through the clothing they’d left on the floor. He straightened up with a flourish and brandished his wand. Placing himself back on Dean’s lap, he murmured a few words to himself and Dean felt his cock covered in something wet and cool. Lubricating Charm, he thought dizzily. Of course. Seamus pulled Dean’s hands to his crotch, lower and further back than that, until:

 

“Oh.” The whisper hung between them as Dean’s long forefinger made its way into Seamus. Seamus clenched and Dean was surprised at how erotic it was. He moved his finger experimentally and Seamus whimpered, actually whimpered.

 

“I’ve always loved your hands. They’re so beautiful and graceful,” Seamus murmured.

 

“Thank you,” Dean said, not even noticing how surreal the conversation was. He slowly added another finger, watching Seamus as he did so.

 

“Yes, yes, yes...” Seamus muttered and bounced on his hand a little. He sighed and wriggled. “Add another finger.”

 

Dean pushed a third finger into Seamus and moved them around, trying to find Seamus’ ‘sweet spot’. Given that he only knew the basic mechanics of gay sex, it could be complete and utter tosh for all he knew, but then Seamus gave a cry and gasped and said, “Do that again, Dean, please...”

 

Dean complied, stretching out his fingers and wriggling them and praying that what they were about to do wouldn’t hurt Seamus too much. When Seamus looked down at him with dark, glistening eyes, he moved so that Seamus was on his back and Dean was holding all of his weight over Seamus on his elbow, the other hand still being somewhere up Seamus’ arse. He took his fingers out and looked at Seamus in the eye.

 

“Are you ready?” he whispered.

 

Seamus smiled back at him. “I’ve been ready for years, Dean.”

 

Dean nodded and pushed inside Seamus the tiniest bit. He watched carefully for Seamus’ reaction, but he didn’t seem to be in pain. He inched further and further into Seamus’ ridiculously tight arse until halfway in, Seamus put a hand on his wrist and Dean stopped immediately, even though it felt like he was going to fall apart. Seamus was so tight and hot that it was incredibly hard to resist letting his hips slam into Seamus and doing what he would, but he wanted to make this good for Seamus as well. They stayed in that position for a very long time, until Seamus gave a minute nod and Dean moved forward, millimetre by millimetre, until he was fully sheathed in Seamus. Seamus clenched and Dean groaned.

 

“Fuck, Seamus,” he said, the overwhelming sensation making him hang his head. Seamus forced Dean to look at him, then kissed him until his whole body ached with want even more, if that was possible. And then Seamus moved his hips up and Dean thrust out and back in slightly and their lovemaking began in earnest. The only noises came from the sound of skin slapping on skin and their puffy breaths into each others’ mouths, punctuated by the occasional wet smack as they kissed.

 

Dean didn’t know what happened to change the pace; Seamus must have moved, or maybe he thrust particularly hard, but suddenly, they were both gasping and Seamus’ legs were wrapped around him with almost crushing force and Seamus’ cock was trapped between their stomachs and they were both racing towards the same conclusion and when Dean came, it felt so good that he could have sworn he actually heard angels singing.

 

He let his arms give way and collapsed onto Seamus with a great ‘Oof’. Seamus’ arms slid around him and held tight and Dean felt a strong sense of rightness come over him. This was the way it was always meant to be; the taste of Seamus’ salt-sweat on his lips, the quick thrum of his heartbeat in Dean’s ear, the rhythmic slide of Seamus’ hands on his back. Seamus comprised the whole of his universe, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Dean slowly slid out of Seamus and gathered up him up in his arms. Seamus kissed him hard on the mouth, on his neck, on his cheeks, every kiss dotted with an “I love you.” They held each other fiercely, watching the dust of a brave and fear-free new world settle around them. Before he drifted into sleep, Dean searched around for Seamus’ hand. Finding it, he smiled and squeezed.

 

Things would be fine. They always were with Seamus.

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