"So this is where you were?" Seamus set down the basket on the sand, looking out toward the ocean and then up toward the cliffs they had just descended. You'd never know the cottage was there from down here, maybe it magic or just that the cottage was cleverly built. Dean's hostess of the previous spring was probably still up there flitting around the kitchen, stirring one of the many sauces on the stove. His head was beginning to clear, and he didn't know if it was the ocean breeze or finally getting away from the woman and the pull she seemed to have on everyone with a cock.

"This is the place," Dean said, looking around with a smile of approval. "Not bad, yeah?"

"Not quite what I pictured, though."

"No?"

Seamus laughed. "Well, I suppose I was picturing you in alleys, in caves, in dungeons..."

Dean looked up and met his eye, giving him an odd half-smile that didn't really tell Seamus anything.

"There was some of that, too, then?"

The slight movement of Dean's head could hardly even be called a nod of agreement, but the shadow that crossed his eyes said enough. Hunger, fear, cold and grief--Seamus knew well enough what Dean had suffered, even if he would never get all the details. Still, it was nice that Dean found a refuge for part of it, even if it did mean that Seamus would spend the rest of his life jealous of Loony Lovegood, of all people.

"So, did you pull her, then?" Seamus found himself blurting out.

"Fleur? Dean asked incredulously.

"Huh? Oh, no," Seamus said. "But that would really be something to tell the lads, aye?

Dean nodded. "Something, yeah, but so would the beating her husband would have given me had I tried. Besides, you should have heard them. At it night and day, and noisy as all fuck, too."

Seamus grinned, and suspected that Dean knew just what was running through that filthy mind of his. Still, that didn't answer the question he'd asked, did it? So, did you and yer new Ravenclaw best mate find similar ways to pass the time?

Dean let out a wry laugh. Yeah, he knew just what Seamus was getting at, and he still wasn't answering, damn it.

"Come on, it's a legitimate question, I mean what else are you going to do, for weeks on end, supervised by a pair of horny newlyweds?"

"Well, I stuffed my face a lot," Dean admitted.

"With food, aye?" Please let it not be Lovegood's tongue, or tits, or worse, Seamus thought.

"Yeah. And then I felt sort of bad because I was eating them into poverty, so I tried to help around the house. Did a lot of collecting shells, you've seen how she likes to scatter them around."

"And?"

"I drew. Pages and pages. I was so glad to get my hand on charcoal and parchment, you can't imagine. All this shit I wanted out of my head and onto paper."

"I'd like to see those pictures some day."

Dean nodded, but Seamus suspected from the look on Dean's face that those particular drawings might just break his heart.

"And Lovegood?"

"We keep coming back to that, don't we?"

"Well, you were holding her hand."

"Oh yeah? When?"

"During the battle," Seamus said, enunciating every syllable.

"Hmm, I suppose we were. But friends hold hands, don't they?"

"We don't."

"Do you want to?"

Seamus tried his best to look scandalized, hoping that his eyes weren't giving away the warring emotions he was feeling. He'd always been bollocks at lying, though.

Dean watched him for a long moment, then turned, tossing another seashell into the basket. When he finally turned back to Seamus he was frowning, looking as though he was trying to work out a tricky sum in his head.

And then suddenly Dean's face was split by an achingly familiar grin and his eyes were lit up with mischief. He lunged for Seamus, and Seamus darted away in an instinctual movement, one that was at odds with the overwhelming urge he was feeling. He really didn't care if Dean planned to pick him up and throw him in the water, or dump sand down his pants or cover his hair with a jellyfish, he just wanted Dean there, close enough to touch. Still, being chased was a familiar enough thing, and he laughed as he danced over rocks and driftwood, using his lightness and agility to full advantage.

Dean's legs were longer, though, and he finally caught Seamus by the arm, yanking him close. As Seamus panted, his eyes locked on Deans face, Dean's fingers drifted down Seamus' forearm, finally entwining around Seamus' fingers. He squeezed hard, and Seamus gulped, rendered speechless by the gesture.

"There, I'm holding your hand now. Are we still just mates, or shall we march up to the house and out ourselves?" Seamus tried to laugh, but something in Dean's eyes made it come out like more of a whimper. As if roaring with joy and relief and leaping onto him like some stupid lovesick girl in front of all their friends hadn't already done that.

Dean bent lower, locking eyes with Seamus as if waiting for a reply, his eyebrows raised, his smile expectant.

Seamus was shaking, but the warmth of Dean's hand wrapped around his had given him courage, apparently. He stood on his tiptoes and closed his eyes just a moment before pressing his lips to Dean's.

It could have been a joke, it could still pass for a joke, he thought, if Dean were to push him away. But by some bloody miracle, Dean didn't. In fact, Dean pressed closer and parted his lips, pulling Seamus into an embrace with his free hand. For a moment, Seamus wondered if all the muscles in his body had gone liquid. It was such a relief, and at the same time, he was terrified.

When they parted, Seamus found it physically impossible to move his body, but with Dean so close, all warm and hard and real, for once, he didn't see why he'd ever want to. "I...I..."

Dean waited a bit, then smiled, laying his forehead against Seamus'. "I know," he said. "I feel exactly the same way."