The Old Year Ends

Warnings: Mild violence

I know it's practically Lent and I apologise for the delay, but I have finally finished this series! None of these are beta-ed, so they are probably full of mistakes. Sorry about that.

They stood in a group in front of the pale green curtains of Grimmauld Place like a group portrait. Seamus watched them from the other side of the grand sitting room. Seamus couldn't imagine Harry, Ginny and their little ones actually hanging out in this formal splendour; it must have been kept for occasions such as this: the amazing annual New Year's Eve party.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was the tallest, with his great nephew, Dayton, coming a close second. Dayton was new to London, and the ex-Minister had spent the last month or so introducing him to people. Dean and Seamus had met him before, but clearly Lee Jordan hadn't, judging by the hand-shaking that was going on. The lad held Freddie's hand just a little too long for Seamus' liking.

The group fell into an easy conversation full of laughter then and Seamus stayed back to admire the view. There was some kind of comparison of Dayton's neat cut with Freddie's cornrows, Lee's dreads and Dean and Kingsley's bald pates. Dean leaned forward good-naturedly to have his head stroked. Lee's dreads were greying now. In another decade he'd be an impressive silver lion, but for now he had a strange grizzled dip-dye effect.

Seamus had enjoyed some fantasies involving those dreads when he'd been at school! And maybe a few times since. Lee had been his first crush; that had been how he'd found out he was gay. Yes, Seamus had a type. That would be all Dean's fault, of course. Dean had been the first black person, and the first Muggle who Seamus had ever met. It had been thrilling and exotic. The fact that they'd shared a sense of humour and become instant best friends, had been as wonderful and astounding as Dean's CD player and the posters which stayed static. Seamus wondered where that old Dean had gone to. He missed him.

It was no good Dean getting all solicitous this week, though. It was terrible timing. Seamus had been feeling justified and – truth be told – he rather wanted more neglect so he could feel ok about Christmas Eve, and about what he was hoping would happen tonight. He wanted a guilt-free affair with Freddie more than he wanted his old closeness with Dean.

Seamus thought of Christmas Eve, he looked at Freddie's broad fingers and remembered them on his neck, his waist, running through his hair. He looked at Freddie's lips and remembered the feel of them against his own in the dark, damp corridor of the Burrow, which smelled of apples. There had been sweet hesitance at first, followed by a hungry fire and fast movements, their two bodies pressed as close as they could be, but only for a few minutes, until footsteps forced them apart.

Seamus realised that he wasn't the only one watching the tableau of beautiful, dark men. A heavily pregnant Victoire Weasley was being helped into an armchair by her husband, Teddy, but both of them kept shooting glances over to the men at the window.

"Drink?" George offered, breaking into Seamus' thoughts and blocking his view. The tray he held was full of brightly-coloured cocktail glasses, most of which were smoking lightly or sparking.

"You must think I was born yesterday, George Weasley," Seamus replied. "I think I know you well enough by now to know better than to accept a drink you've had a hand in creating! I knew you when you were poisoning First Years with Canary Cremes!"

George laughed. "Those were the days! I'm a reformed character, Mr Finnegan, a respectable family man. Harry just asked me to offer round some—"

"Did he fuck!" Seamus responded, with an approximation of the right friendly smile, but inside his guts had liquefied at George's reference to his family. What the hell would the man do to Seamus if he knew Seamus had been groping his son, if he knew the things Seamus intended for George's baby boy?

Seamus' attention was drawn abruptly back to the group by the window. Dean had grabbed Freddie's jacket, he was pulling something out of Freddie' pocket. It was something red and folded, something with a gold holly leaf pattern on it. The stupid sentimental boy, he'd kept Seamus' wrapping paper on him. He'd used his present – the drumsticks – but he'd kept hold of the giftwrap. Seamus was touched and he was terrified.

Seamus was rooted to the spot, watching Dean as he let go of Freddie to examine the paper. Teddy had joined them, and he was pulling on Dean's arm, trying to get his attention, but Dean was shaking him off. Seamus turned to look at Victoire, to try to judge her reaction to her husband's behaviour. She was mouthing something at someone else in the group, her eyes flicking down to her belly. Seamus tried to work out who she was communicating with, but he was too late, everyone was staring at Teddy now.

Seamus crossed over to them. He stopped himself from looking in Freddie's direction. Teddy's voice was urgent now and he Dean clearly wanted him to shut up. All Seamus caught, though, were the words, "…and here comes your sainted Seamus now. You really think he's worth—"

"Seamus! Darling!" Dean said, too loud, over Teddy, trying to block him off. He had his hands outstretched, empty of the giftwrap now, as though Seamus was going to hold them, which they'd never done in public. And since when did he call Seamus 'darling'?

"You want to know what your precious Seamus has been up to?" Teddy asked.

Freddie's face gave them away; Seamus hoped nobody else had seen that. It had been Teddy's footsteps which had interrupted them on Christmas Eve, but Seamus thought they'd been quick enough, that there'd been nothing to see by the time he turned the corner. What the hell did Teddy know exactly?

"You need to get back to your pregnant wife!" Dean snapped to Teddy.

Seamus was grateful until Teddy replied, "Bit late to start worrying about her, isn't it, Dean?"

Seamus didn't think he wanted to know what that meant, but Teddy decided to explain anyway. His face was changing. It took Seamus a moment to recognise who he was becoming. When he did he gasped. The naked men in Dean's portrait! Teddy? Why not? Of course.

"You recognise me?" Teddy asked. "You want to know what else went on in that studio while I was sitting for that—?"

"Very clever! You've been studying the painting, we're all very impressed." Dean's voice gave him away, though. Seamus knew how he sounded when he was panicking.

Seamus didn't know how to feel. He wanted to feel hurt, but it was muddled by relief that this meant he ihad/i been justified in falling for Freddie; he wanted to feel vindicated, and glad that he had Freddie now, but there was some deep pain which wouldn't let him.

"But the reason you won't leave him for me," Teddy continued, still wearing the face in the portrait, "is because you're trying to protect him, but he doesn't give a damn about you! He's been chasing after—"

"Watch it!" Seamus couldn't help himself. He couldn't let Teddy insult Freddie.

"Yes you have!" Teddy misunderstood. "Remember me?"

Teddy changed himself again, shifted his hair colour, body shape until…

Freddie got it first, his hands went to his stricken face. Seamus looked at him. Overwhelmed by a desire to comfort and protect Freddie, he had to turn away. He turned back to Teddy and saw the woman from the upstairs bar.

"You?" he asked stupidly. He became aware that the other party-goers were looking from him to Dean to Freddie, to Teddy in a red dress.

"Seamus? What?" Dean was asking. He pulled the giftwrap out of his back pocket and started asking, "Why did Freddie have this?"

Teddy rounded on Freddie as he changed back into himself, "What the hell do you think you're playing at, pretending you're so sweet and shy, and chasing after married men?"

"You're a fine one to talk, you little tart!" Seamus countered with.

All of a sudden, there was a low groan from the other side of the room. All heads turned. Victoire!

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean for you to find out like this," Teddy babbled. "I couldn't help it. I love Dean."

He was the last person in the room to understand. She closed herself round her big tummy. Dayton had to yell at Teddy that his wife was going into labour. It was Lee Jordan who shot across the room and placed his protective hands on her shoulders. When the contraction had passed, it was Lee who helped her up and ushered her to the Floo.

All of a sudden, Seamus was being whirled round and a fist cracked against his cheek. He fell back, his eyes closing, a furious, dark face glaring at him. Of course. He should have known better than to worry about George's reaction, when it was Angelina who was really going to kill him for corrupting her son.

In the treatment room at St Mungo's, Seamus slipped off his wedding band to see how it felt. Dean and Freddie were out in the Waiting Room, glaring at each other. Angelina had been furious when Freddie had accompanied Seamus to the Floo, but not as angry as Dean had been. Seamus thought about Dean with Teddy and wondered how the hell Dean thought he had the right to be the least bit jealous. Still, he slid the ring back on. He hoped his cheek was broken, hoped he'd have to be put to sleep while it got fixed, because that way he wouldn't be able to think for a while. He could postpone all decisions.

Meanwhile, in another part of the hospital, Teddy and Lee held one of Victoire's hands each, and all three of them longed for and dreaded the first sight of her baby.