Girls, Gambling and Risk Taking

***

Ron was a gambler. It was in his nature really; some people will choose to simply watch as others take risks, or avoid risk-taking all together, but not him. He liked the thrill that he got when he was routing for something- putting his entire faith into only one thing that he had no control over. Cards. Dice.

Unsuspecting people.

"Pay up, lads." He grinned widely, flipping through the little leather book that had become a permanent resident of the back pocket of his jeans. "Harry, you owe thirteen Sickles two Knuts, Neville same, you too Dean, Seamus you owe a Galleon. Tough break." He nodded sympathetically at the Irish boy who was grumpily digging in his book bag, before clapping his little notebook closed and extended his hands.

Harry was grumbling, "I don't know why I keep playing this stupid game. I never win."

Hermione snorted obnoxiously on Ron's left. Her negative thoughts on gambling had never been a secret, and she seemed to get pleasure watching her friends lose, shooting scathing glances their way over her toast, and barely concealing an 'I Told You So.'

"Then stop."

He pretended not to hear her.

"How d'yeh a'ways know these things?" Seamus muttered, mashing his porridge angrily with the round of his spoon.

"Just call me psychic," he grinned impishly.

"Psycho," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Now, I bet a Galleon and seven Knuts that Blaise Zabini is snogging … Ernie!"

Communal gasping followed by silence.

Harry was the first one to speak.

"No way! You're on."

Hermione groaned.

"Yeah, me too." Dean grinned, "You're running out of people to bet on Ron- this is just you desperately groping for random people and praying that we'll start betting with you 'cause of your freakishly good luck. I'll put down a Galleon."

Neville nodded in agreement and smiled, "Your luck will run out eventually. I'm in too."

"Seamus?" Ron asked.

Seamus was being unusually quiet – though any silence from Seamus's general direction was unusual - and he shook his head. "Nah, I'm running out of money. Still have to buy Christmas presents." Hermione gazed at him in approval.

"Your choice, then." Dean shrugged, "But it's a sure miss on Ron's part. Firstly, a Hufflepuff with a Slytherin? Fat chance. Second, I've always had my suspicions 'bout Zabini, but Ernie Macmillan's a 'Puff, not a poof," he said, laughing with the rest of them.

They continued a heated debate on the reasons that Blaise and Ernie were or were not snogging for nearly ten minutes before the bell rang, and they left the great hall still tossing around plausible arguments all the way to Transfigurations.

***

However, after class, three Gryffindor boys walked away a little poorer and one plenty richer, as only ten feet away from the Transfiguration room, Ernie caught up with Blaise and fiercely pinned him against the stone wall. They were only broken up after Blaise's fingers started to wander around Ernie's backside and Hermione began screaming the proper hallway etiquette in carrying volumes as the first-years pooled around her in wide-eyed horror. She ushered them quickly into the Transfiguration room, sighing exasperatedly and muttering things about 'Public displays of more than affection.'

***

Thing became weirder after dinner.

"Dean. Hey. Lets talk. Now."

"Uh. Hi Pavarti. Bye Seamus." He barely saw Seamus's hand begin to wave him away before he was pulled forcefully into an empty classroom. She closed the door and muttered a locking charm under her breath, giving Dean a chance to regain his senses.

"Hey, Pav."

"Yes?"

"What's … up? You ok?"

"I need your help," she said, looking side-to-side and then stepping towards Dean just in case someone was listening. He felt that it would be a little rude to point out that they were in a very empty classroom, where no one could hear.

"Ah, sure. What with?"

"Lavender."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "I don't really know her that well. Sorry."

"She likes Seamus," Pavarti continued, as though he hadn't said anything. Dean raised his eyebrows a little higher.

"And you need me why?"

"Like, really likes him." She ignored him once again, raising her voice to a normal tone, and started pacing around. "You know? Like, she's all depressed 'cause she can't get up enough courage to talk to him-"

Dean snorted. Lavender was constantly talking to Seamus- Between the two of them it was hard to find a moment's peace. Seamus was talkative enough as it was, but when Lavender came by she actually encouraged him to speak.

She narrowed her eyes, "-about personal things. Like boy/girl stuff. And I mean it! All week he's been like, totally silent. Lav's starting to think that he might not like her or something. She's getting really upset."

'Oh. That's a damn shame.' Dean thought to himself, casting a hopeful glance at the door, and estimating how many seconds it would take him to get there if he whispered an unlocking spell right now.

"And I was wondering," she said, now looking at Dean with a mad little gleam in her eyes that set her face in the stereotypical 'EvilplottingMastermind!' expression, "If you would talk to him for her. Give him a little 'push' in the right direction?"

Subtlety, apparently, was not one of Pavarti's strong points.

"You want me to drop hints that Lavender likes Seamus?"

"Thank you so much Dean!" She threw herself into his arms and squealed, "I knew that you would understand."

She placed a quick kiss one his cheek, pointed her wand at the door, and bounced out.

What had just happened?

***

He was lying on his stomach, chewing on the end of his quill and pondering his Charms homework.

"Seamus."

"Aye?"

"Do you 'like' Lavender?"

"Nope."

"Ok."

***

"NO? He said NO! How? HOW, Dean, could he say NO?"

"It was 'Nope', actually," Dean submitted helpfully. Pavarti continued to storm around the classroom in disbelief, raising her hands to an upper power asking for answers, why such an injustice had occurred. Dean chose to sit in silence and contemplate escape plans, each becoming more colourful than the last.

"He didn't say anything else?"

"Um … Nope," Dean said, trying to remember. Pavarti's face fell. "Oh, Wait!"

"What? What!"

"About five minutes later he asked if I had the answer to number eight. I did, it was the hiccuping curse."

Pavarti looked like she wanted to punch him. Instead she settled on sighing deeply, reciting her mantra under her breath and talking very, very slowly.

"Dean. You have to ask Seamus 'Why' he doesn't like Lavender."

"Uh. Okay. Why?"

Another deep sigh. "So she can fix it."

"Oh."

***

"I bet you three Galleons that Ravenclaw wins by at least one hundred points."

"Hell no! Slytherin's way stronger! …As much as it pains me to say that…"

Lunch was going relatively normally for the sixth-year Gryffindors. Hermione was muttering something under her breath with her eyes closed and fists clenched. Harry and Neville were speaking in low tones whether it was a worthy cause to bet on and a few seconds later they nodded their heads, grinning. Pavarti was having a very serious conversation with the girl next to Ginny about lip-gloss and Ginny looked like she was contemplating all the things that she could do with her butter-knife to shut them up. Lavender was talking merrily to Seamus who was-

-Looking down and not saying much at all? What the hell?

"Dean, are you in?"

"Uh, no thanks," he said, picking up his plate and moving a few seats down so he was on the other side of Seamus. Lavender looked disheartened but the Irish boy beamed.

"Dean! I'm so happy to see you. Wanna go for a walk? Now?" he said quickly, setting his fork down on his half-finished plate and leaping to his feet. Lavender flipped her blonde hair back, looking outraged.

"Sure," he said, not that he really had a choice; Seamus had already grabbed his wrist and began dragging him out of the hall.

They got to the entranceway before Seamus slowed his pace. He glanced over his shoulder anxiously asking, "Is she following us?"

Dean peered over his friend's head. "Nope. You're safe."

"Oh Hail Mary," He let out the sigh that he seemed to have been suppressing for a week, "It's getting insane. Are you still hungry? Sorry I pulled you away; I just had to get out. We can go to the kitchens."

"No, I'm alright. We could go outside?"

"Yeah, okay," Seamus agreed, pulling his scarf and cloak out of his book bag, and as they pushed through the heavy oak doors, Dean wished that he had the sense to bring his own.

Or at least some watercolours.

It was beautiful out. The snow that had fallen the night before was still untouched apart from a deep and narrow trench that lead from the Castle to Hagrid's Cabin. The lake was frozen solid producing grey-blue ice that shimmered in the sun, and the forbidden forest didn't look so… foreboding… when it was covered in a frosty blanket. He was only vaguely aware that Seamus was humming beside him.

"…It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas…" he sang brightly, only ever saying the one line. Dean had a feeling he didn't know the rest of the song, but for the sake of conversation pretended it was just a statement.

"It is."

The humming faded and Seamus tucked his fingers in the pockets of his robe to protect them from the cold. "Are you staying here?"

"My mum doesn't want me to… but…" Dean sighed, sitting on the stone steps, figuring that walking across the scenery would be like walking all over a painting. It would ruin it. Seamus waited patiently for him to continue.

"I don't think I want to go home. I don't know why-" He answered the other boys unasked question, "-really. I guess that I just want to … you know, stay away for a while."

"Keep 'em safe?"

"Yeah," he shivered. " Something like that."

Seamus nodded understandingly and shrugged off his scarf, wrapping it unceremoniously around his friends' neck, who only protested a little before accepting the pre-warmed cotton tied around his rapidly freezing skin. "I'm staying too. It's going to be a full dorm this year," he smiled, "and there isn't even a ball."

"Harry and Ron are staying?"

"And Neville, yeah. I understand why, I guess. It's… safe." Seamus also shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold. Rarely did Dean have serious conversations like this with the shorter boy. With Seamus, it was usually loud, colourful fun… but he did appreciate the serious moments in life. His wide hazel-gold eyes were even brighter from the reflecting sun, and his merry face was drawn in a sad frown. His hair was flecked with little bits of snow that had been blown across the steps. He would have fit in very well if this were a painting…

"Hey Shay?" he started. Somehow, this really didn't seem like the time to ask him why he didn't like Lavender.

"Aye?"

"Um. Nothing."

After the bell rang, Dean was left with a striped Red-and-Gold scarf. It smelled very much of Seamus. He would be sad when he had to part with it.

***

"I bet that Snape and Sinistra are snogging!"

"EW!! Ron! Nobody wants to think about that, let alone BET on it!"

It was Friday afternoon, and after being pestered by Pavarti every hour for the last two days he figured he should probably talk to Seamus about Lavender.

However, talking to Seamus wasn't what he wanted to do right now. No. Dean needed to think.

That was also a very difficult task. Thinking, that was. It seemed that every time he tried, an annoying little blond would somehow bounce into his mind, making him forget everything else. Stupid Bugger.

It was little things. The way that Seamus chewed on the tip of his quill when he was concentrating very hard. How he could be the last one to sleep and the first one awake but still have the most energy out of all of them. How he would never tell a secret, or an intentional lie…

Plop.

"Whatch'ya thinking about?"

"Nothing," Dean snapped. Seamus looked mildly hurt. "Sorry."

"S'okay," he said pleasantly.

"Seamus."

"Aye."

"Why don't you like Lavender?"

The expression that graced Seamus's cheerful face was one that Dean had never seen before. His eyes darted to the left and he bit his lower lip, tilting his chin downwards. It was gone in a second though, and a not-so-convincing smile was playing at his lips.

"Just not my type. 'S'all."

"Okay."

***

"Not his TYPE? NOT his type! NOT HIS BLOODY TYPE?!"

"Apparently not." Dean said, becoming increasingly uncomfortable as she clutched her hands to her head, acting as though she had just been told that everything she had ever been taught was a lie.

"How can she NOT be Seamus's Type?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean said, sounding a little more defensive than he had meant to. She didn't seem to take notice.

"It means that everyone is Seamus's type. Seamus get along with everyone, everyone gets along with Seamus. And he's GOODLOOKING! This isn't fair! I, on behalf of female-kind, MUST know what his type is! And I want YOU to-"

"-Find out for you. Right, right."

***

Saturday was the first day of the Christmas break. Pavarti had practically jumped Dean before she left, explaining that if she didn't have an owl within three days on what Seamus's 'type' was, then she was going to get very, VERY angry. It sounded like shrinking spells were going to be involved…

"Seamus."

They were in front of a dying fire alone in the common room, Dean spread across the sofa, one knee bent up providing an easel to rest his sketch book on which was open to a page covered in pointless doodles. Seamus was lounging across the overstuffed armchair, eyes closed and breathing deeply. He looked very innocent and if Dean hadn't seen the little smile that crept into the left corner of his soft lookin-

' "Soft looking", Thomas?! What the HELL!'

"Yeah, Dean?"

"What's your type?" he mumbled, still mad at himself for thinking something so incredibly stupid.

"My type of what?"

"Girl."

The look was back. The look where he kind of turned away and got all ... 'dark'. Dean really didn't like that look.

"I dunno. Nice?"

"Ok thanks."

***

Dear Pavarti.

He likes 'Nice' girls.

Merry Christmas.

-Dean

**

Dear Dean.

WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN 'NICE GIRLS'!! ARE YOU SAYING THAT LAVENDER ISN'T NICE!!!! I meant, does he like blondes, redheads, tall, short, quiet, talkative…

You're useless.

Love –Pav

***

"Seamus, I have to ask you something," Dean said, looking down at Pavarti's letter for the suitable questions. It was around 9pm on Sunday night and everyone else who was staying for Christmas Holidays (The remainder of their dorm, plus Hermione and Ginny. There was a small group of timid-looking first- and second- years that chose to spend most their time in the Hufflepuff dormitory's with their friends) were downstairs in the common room playing 'Exploding Snap'. Dean could hear Ginny and Harry's laughter after Ron let out a colourful curse. Seamus must have been on his way down to join them because Dean had met up with him right outside their room.

"Ok, shoot."

"When it comes to girls-"

The 'look' came back.

"Look, about that, I-"

"Shay, please just answer the questions. I have had Pavarti hounding me for the last week about you and women-"

"But you see-"

"Blonde or Brunette?"

"Brunette, but-"

"Tall or short?"

"Uh, Tall usually but it's-"

"Quite or Talkative?"

"DEAN! I'M GAY!" Seamus yelled, extremely frustrated, "So would you please stop asking me all these bloody 'Girl questions' because I. Don't. Bloody. Care!"

Shocked was a little too weak of an adjective to describe what Dean felt right then. He stood with his mouth open slightly, watching Seamus huff, cross his arms and sigh. He realised that he probably looked like a total idiot, but it seemed every word he had ever learned had suddenly left him, the only one remaining happened to be;

"…Gaah…?"

'Good English, Thomas.'

Seamus turned, shaking his head a bit and started walking down to the common room. That wasn't how he wanted to tell Dean. He was going to tell him sometime this holiday; he had been rehearsing all the different scenarios over and over in his mind….

None of them involved him yelling over Dean's enquiries over the 'fairer' sex, however.

When he stepped into the common room he was greeted by a very uncomfortable silence. Five sets of eyes were on him.

"Uh. Well, I guess you, um, heard then," he said rather lamely, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Coming out to his best friend was one thing, but all of his friends…

Now there were only two sets of shocked eyes on him, Hermione and Ginny's. Ron, though, was looking a little too happy with this news. And Neville and Harry were looking very glum.

"Seriously, mate. How do you know these things?" Harry said, handing three Galleons into Ron's outstretched hand. Ron continued to grin and turned his gaze towards Neville who was searching though his bag.

"Know?" Hermione said faintly, still staring at Seamus.

A small laugh escaped Ginny's lips, but she clamped her fingers over her mouth in an instant. This didn't hide the fact that she was shaking with soundless giggles. Harry started to join her, stifling it at first, before not bothering and breaking down full out snicker that evolved into an uncontrollable laugh. Neville and Ron joined them, and to his surprise, Seamus felt his own shoulders start to shake before…

"S-Sorry, Seamus mate. It was a bit obvious, and when H-Harry and Neville didn't believe me I just… I had to. I hope you don't mind."

Seamus shook his head, and they all dissolved into another peal of laughter, excluding Hermione who still looked shocked and confused.

"Well, that was better than I anticipated. I'm going to bed," he said after a few minutes, and after wishing them all a good night he began to climb the stairs two at a time, in a better mood than he had been in months. He only stopped when he heard a very enraged cry from the third year landing.

"RONALD WEASLEY! YOU WERE BETTING ON SEAMUS'S SEXUALITY?!"

***

Of course, by the fifth landing, Seamus's mood had returned to one offended grumpy-ness. Dean was a jerk. A big, bloody Jerk. Stupid Dean-I'm-A-Jerk-Thomas. Jerky McJerkyson. He yanked open the door and collapsed onto his bed.

"I'm sorry!"

"WHAT THE HELL!"

In his initial haste to find all the possible compounds of 'Dean' and 'Jerk', Seamus had not noticed the black boy sitting near the head of his bed, hugging a pillow to his chest and looking genuinely contrite.

"I didn't mean- I mean- Well its just-" he was lost for words and instead decided to stare at his knee and mumble, "I'm a jerk."

And if it hadn't been such a serious moment Seamus probably would have laughed.

However, moments between Seamus and Dean were seldom this serious, and changing the mood now seemed somewhat inappropriate. So he remained silent, glaring bitterly at the bed sheets.

"I-I didn't mean to … Well, I was surprised, that's all. I really don't care-" The fact that Seamus felt a bit hurt at the last part worried him slightly, but he didn't let that show, "I mean, You're still Seamus, right? It's not like that's changed. You've just been… Seamus all your life."

'The possibility of a lamer ending to a sentence-', Dean mused, '-was non-existent' The slight chuckle that Seamus let out as a reply did ignite a small bit of reassurance.

"Yes," he answered, "I suppose I have. Never actually experienced a ulterior personality disorder of any type…"

"So, I'm sorry. I was just shocked."

"Really?" asked Seamus sarcastically.

"Really." Dean smiled warmly.

***

Dear Pavarti.

Seamus's type has dark hair, is tall, and male.

-Dean

***

MALE!!
AS IN A MAN?
AS IN SEAMUS IS GAY?!

Love

-Pavarti

***

Yes.

-Dean.

***

WELL WHO DOES HE LIKE?

-P.

***

Pavarti-

I don't care.

-Dean.

***

WELL I DO!!!

-Pav

***

So?

-Dean.

***

ASK HIM YOU GREAT MORON!!!

Oh my goodness. This is the greatest gossip that I have ever been fed first hand since I saw Macmillan and Zabini in the Hallway. Or when I found out that Hermione liked Ron.

I must know it ALL! Tell me what kind of boys he is into, and who he had a crush on, and … EVERYTHING!!

You are the GREATEST! THANK YOU! Oooo. I can't wait to tell Lavender.

Love and Happy Holidays.

-Pavarti.

***

Dean sighed and crumpled up the letter, seriously concerned that he was just as interested in learning as much on the 'Seamus and Boys' situation as Pavarti. He bid the others goodnight and trudged bemusedly up to his room.

***

Christmas Eve began in a very peaceful, fairy-tale manner. Seamus, wrapped snugly in a worn, green fleece blanket was re-reading a battered copy of Trinity,just an hour ago having left the small group congregated about the fire in the common room, and instead choosing the privacy of his own dorm.

It was far below freezing out, but he had opened the window anyway, sitting on the ledge and sometimes glancing up from his novel to watch the snow outside his window become illuminated from the dimly lit room, and then disappear and fall gracefully to the ground. Eventually he gave up on reading, tossed his book to his bed and just gazed out into a black and snowy wonderland.

He vaguely heard the door open and close, and footsteps make their way towards him.

"Shay? Aren't you cold?"

Seamus shook his head and didn't bother turning; he knew it was Dean. Dean leaned gracefully on the opposite side of the window, studying Seamus's expression. He worried the letter that he had balled up in his hands a little, causing it rumple quietly.

"What's that?" Seamus looked towards the balled piece of parchment. Dean smiled a little.

"Another letter from Pavarti."

Seamus raised his eyebrows in surprise; "You're with her now?"

"No! God, no. She's actually very interested in you"

The Irish boy looked mildly embarrassed. "She does know that I'm-"

"Oh, painfully so, yes. For some reason that has added to her slight obsession."

"Weird."

"Very."

"So, what did she want to know?"

"Regular gossip stuff, I guess. What type of guy you were into; who you liked…" he felt suddenly awkward, and looked away. An oddly uncomfortable silence followed.

"Sensitive," he said so quietly that Dean didn't know if it was really his friend or just the sound of a sudden gust of wind. He hadn't felt anything, so;

"Pardon?"

"Sensitive, I guess," he said sheepishly, and shook his head, looking out the window with a little smile on his lips, "Makes me sound like a woman, I know."

"It doesn't," Dean said in a small voice, rearranging himself so he was sitting on the ledge of the window, facing the room, and more importantly Seamus. "What do you mean though."

He shrugged a bit, and looked out, unfocused on the grounds. Artistic. Calm. Beautiful. "Just … sensitive. Caring."

Nodding, Dean leaned forwards a bit, "And … who do you-"

"That's none of her business!" he snapped, as he was brought back to reality a bit, and wrapped the blanket defensively around himself. Dean was taken aback.

"Sorry," he said, and Seamus grunted in response. "I. Uh. I wont tell her, if you don't want."

Seamus smiled a little, looking at his knees that were curled close to his chest. "'S none of your business either." But his tone wasn't harsh.

"Fine. Keep your secrets, then." Dean teased, but welcomed the silence that followed. He turned to watch the snow falling just as Seamus was, though his gaze slowly turned left.

He had an innocent aura around him. A certain … energy that made people believe that he could do no wrong. Dean pondered the truth behind that. Innocent … well, that depended entirely on how someone was to view innocent. It was quiet possible that Dean would never meet a person who had a more … colourful vocabulary than Seamus, though he would only show it when he was angry. Or surprised. Or excited.

Ok. He showed it a lot.

But, spiritually, innocent seemed to be the perfect word for him. Seamus was one of the most caring people Dean had ever met. He would always help someone if they needed it, and he was fiercely loyal to those who he cared for. The makings of a Hufflepuff, Dean mused. However, entirely a Gryffindor at heart. He wouldn't ever stand by and watch an injustice happen to another person. He rarely started fights … Even the large one that had taken place between him and Harry last year, he had avoided it until Harry had insulted his mother…

A very big mistake on Harry's part, going back to the fierce loyalty bit.

Right now, there was no doubt in Dean's mind that Seamus was entirely innocent. His cheeks were flushed slightly from the cold, and sandy-blond hair fell into golden, unmoving eyes, fixed on someplace in the endless darkness. And his lips… parted just slightly.

This brought an unsettling thought.

"Seamus?"

"Hmm?"

Dean blamed any flush that made its way across his dark face on the frigid cold air.

"Have you ever kissed a boy?"

Seamus was so shocked that he almost collapsed backwards into the room. Dean jumped up and grabbed his forearm, stopping his descent, and bringing them very close together.

"I, uh-" Seamus got to his feet, letting the blanket fall to the floor. He let in a little gasp, feeling the warmth of Dean's hand on his bare skin, but let out a dizzy reply, "-No."

Dean nodded very slowly, catching the shorter boys' eyes with his own.

"Then, how do you know?"

Seamus swallowed, finding it very hard to find the proper motor skills to speak with the offending hand still holding his arm. "I. I just … am, I guess."

Dean had lost all self-control. He brought his other hand up to his friend's face, and traced with two fingers across his soft skin towards his chin, taking it between his thumb and forefingers and tilting his face upwards.

It was as though a bolt of electricity had shot through Seamus' body as strong fingers slowly traced his cheekbone, and he looked into Dean's very dark eyes, unable to read them. Lifting the arm that wasn't being held by the other boy's hand, he grabbed Dean's wrist and tried to pull it away. This was too much.

"Dean-"

A pair of soft lips brushing against his own interrupted him. If he had felt electricity pulse though him when Dean touched his face, it was nothing to the charge had hit him right then. He was finding it very difficult to stand. He did the only logical thing to do; keep his balance by wrapping his arms around the taller boy's neck. And kissed back of course. Seamus would hate to be rude. It was a gentle kiss. Innocent in every way. But… powerful…

Dean pulled back, eyes wide.

"I, I'm sorry! I- You-"

It was Seamus's turn to do the interrupting, and he leaned up, ravishing Dean's lips with much more force than the first kiss.

Dean's arms had found their way around his waist, and were holding him still. A very good thing, Seamus thought, because it was very possible that his knees would give out. At least, they almost did when he felt a warm tongue graze his lower lip. He nearly let out a moan as he allowed it entrance, and could feel it exploring his mouth, knotting itself against his own.

Click.

GASP!!!

SLAM.

"Oh my GOD!"

They broke apart abruptly, whipping their heads towards the door, where three very startled boys stared in horror.

"It's, Uh…" Dean was about to say 'It's not what it looks like.' … Except for… it was exactly what it looked like.

"You-" Ron squeaked, wide-eyed at Dean, "-And him-" He turned to Seamus, "-Were … Were-"

"Uh, Yeah Ron." Seamus was rubbing the back of his neck and blushing like he normally did when he was thoroughly embarrassed, "We were there, you know."

Neville snorted and Ron continued to stare in disbelief, mouth open.

"You were- How?"

"Well, you see, Ron," Neville started sarcastically, "When a boy and a girl, or in this case, a boy and a boy, like each other very much-"

"Wait!" Harry interjected. A slow grin split across his face, and he turned to Neville, and then they both turned to Ron.

"I can't … how?"

"Uh?" Dean shot Seamus a confused look, and he just shrugged, but blushed a little when Dean caught his eye, and blushed a lot when Dean gave him a lopsided smile.

"Ro-on." Harry was teasing in a singsong, dancing on the spot and holding out his hand, "Aren't you forgetting something."

"I. You-" He shook his head, mouth still open, and began to dig in his pocket, pulling out six Galleons. He gave three to Harry and three to Neville.

"I never lose," he said dejectedly, collapsing onto his bed and staring blankly across the room.

"Awe, don't worry mate." Neville said sympathetically, shaking his head, though he was hardly suppressing a grin.

"Yeah, there's a first time for everything," Harry said, pocketing his money and patting Ron on the shoulder.

Seamus glanced at Dean, who finally looked away from the trio, confused expression in place. Seamus tried very hard not to blush, but inclined his head slightly towards the door that lead to the common room.

Dean nodded his head in agreement, and the Irish boy slipped out of the room, flicking his gaze over his shoulder for a second to catch Dean's gaze, and winked, before disappearing into the corridor.

With one last look towards Ron, who seemed deflated, and Harry who looked triumphant, and Neville who looked smug, he nodded a silent agreement.

'Yeah, Ron,' he thought, taking a few strides towards the door, slipping out slightly unnoticed as his roommates had much more on their minds. 'There's a first time for everything.'

And with that he hurried down the six flights of stairs, praying that the common room would be empty. Well, nearly empty.

This would be one letter to Pavarti that he might actually enjoy writing.

-Fin-

***

A/N: The book Trinity by Leon Uris is really amazing. I thought it was suitable because the main character's name is Seamus, and I can't help but think of them as like, one person in two separate fanfictions!