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Chapter Text

Dean Winchester had never been more terrified in his life. At fifteen years old, he liked to think that he'd had a lot of experiences to draw from, but none of them made his stomach twist and his palms sweat quite as much as they were doing now.

When his mother had died and his house had burned to cinders, he hadn't been scared, not really. His father had handed his baby brother to him and told him to get out and that's what he had done, carrying his precious burden to safety as fast as his little four year old legs could carry him.

When he had first learned that dark creatures really did exist, he might have been a bit concerned, but who wouldn't be when they found out that the shadows under the bed really could take their face off if given the right opportunity. His dad had taught him how to shoot a gun the very next day. He was six at the time, but being able to shatter six bottles dead center from ten meters with a revolver almost too big for him to handle the recoil... well, that made everything that goes bump in the night a little less terrifying.

When he had nearly gotten his brother killed by a Shtriga, he could have been terrified, but he was mostly angry. He was angry at himself for causing the situation, angry at his dad for using them as bait, angry at himself for leaving Sam alone, angry at his dad for leaving THEM alone... Yeah, there was a lot of anger, but really not as much terror.

When he was eleven and his whole world had changed, he was again deeply concerned. A letter had arrived for him, addressed not only to the motel they had been staying at, but even more specifically to the leftmost bed which he had claimed for his own use while their dad was out tracking down the ghoul nest that had brought them to town. Of course, he'd thought it was a joke. How could it not have been? Yes, there were plenty of monsters, werewolves, poltergeists, ghosts, demons, reapers, wraiths... and he believed in every single one of them... but, seriously, magic? He had torn the letter up. 

But another one arrived the next day. He had doused it in salt and burned it. More letters came. He had been starting to think that he had run afoul of some sort of insane postal demon when an imposing woman with a tightly drawn bun and a Scottish accent had appeared on the doorstep and proceeded to transform his twelve-gauge pump action shotgun into a feather duster. He supposed she was within her rights, because he had been very quick to have it pointed straight at her face and if he'd had the power to do so, he might have reacted the same way. What followed was a very tense few hours with the imposing Scottish woman glaring at him from across the room where she sat in an uncomfortable motel chair while he faced her diligently from his seat on an uncomfortable motel bed with his brother safely behind him and his hand wrapped tightly around a rod of iron rebar that he kept for the rare occasions when ammo didn't seem like it would work. He had no doubt that the woman could have changed his rebar just as easily as she had changed his shotgun, but after being splashed full in the face with holy water, she had seemed to decide that his attempts at defending and repelling were only going to escalate and so they had declared a bit of a grudging truce while they sat waiting for John Winchester to return to break the stalemate.

So, again, not terrified, just very suspicious and determined not to allow any harm to come to his brother, Sam. Even after the explanation that magic DID in fact exist, and there were certain people who could actually make use of that power and that Dean himself was one of those people... well, it wasn't scary, just a bit distressing that he was being sent away to a boarding school across the world where he would be completely incapable of looking out for Sammy. He almost refused on principle, citing all of the responsibilities that he had to his family, that it was his job to watch Sammy and that he was the one who took care of their dad after really bad hunts; there were just too many reasons why he had to stay with his family... but then John Winchester had looked Dean dead in the eye and told him in no uncertain terms that taking that opportunity, that going to school and learning to use MAGIC, was the most important thing he could do to protect the family. He was to go to school, do his best, learn everything there was about killing every evil thing in the world, so that when he was home, he would be able to use that knowledge, that POWER, to help his dad hunt down the dark creatures that preyed on innocent people. After all, how much easier would it be to torch corpses if he didn't have to carry around lighter fluid with him?

He hadn't been scared to come to Hogwarts. Just determined. And he hadn't been scared at his own sorting, just terribly hyper aware of everyone and everything in the room. And he hadn't been scared of being sorted into Hufflepuff house, because really, who the HELL would be scared of anything named Hufflepuff? But sitting here at his house table, waiting for his little brother Sammy to be sorted... 

Yeah, Dean was terrified out of his wits. His stomach was twisting and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. There was an uncomfortable banging in his chest that had to be his heart hammering out a crazy staccato rhythm that echoed with the painful pounding in his head.

For the first time in fifteen years, Dean Winchester was really, uncomfortably scared.

AND it just figured that as a Winchester, Sammy would be the last to be sorted, which meant that Dean had plenty of time to worry about all the ways that this moment was going to affect his brother's life. Or rather, his own, since he was bound and determined to make certain his brother was taken care of regardless of what house he ended up in. It was just a matter of how much looking out he would be forced to do.

Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat, turning his attention to the house that caused him the most concern. He had to strain his neck to see the Gryffindors across the room, loud, raucous, brash, CRAZY Gryffindors... The Sorting Hat liked to call them brave and noble, but they were the house that charged into EVERYTHING without thinking. On a hunt, that was the quickest way to get an entire hunting party killed. Every hunter that lasted longer than their first time out either knew going in, or learned very quickly and very painfully, that you didn't just storm in with guns blazing. You had to do the research. You had to gather the data and all the facts of the case and you had to know what it was that you were hunting so you could know for a certainty how exactly you were going to kill it. 

One of the things that humans had over wizards -- Dean still couldn't bring himself to call anything a Muggle, out loud OR in his head -- was that they couldn't just wave a magic wand and expect it to solve all of their problems. Hunters needed to plan in order to survive and, from what he could see, no Gryffindor in the history of Hogwarts had ever heard of cause and consequence and therefore had never bothered to learn how to give consideration to their actions and so was never able to come up with anything resembling a working plan that didn't involve vast amounts of crazy stupid. In fact, the batch of Gryffindors that shared a year with him, the Marauders, tended to spend more time in detention than they did in class. Dean always thought that if they spent even half the amount of time developing their exit strategy as they did suffering the fallout, they would probably never be caught in the midst of their pranks in the first place. 

Dean had never really had a problem with the Marauders. Hell, he laughed at their pranks just as much as anyone did and he had a grudging admiration for their tenacity... But the thought of his brother Sammy being in the same house... being influenced by them, maybe even looking up to them as examples of what and how to be.... THAT was a sickening thought. He chewed his lip as a new member of Gryffindor was welcomed to their table by the fifth year prefect, Remus Lupin. 

Lupin wasn't a bad sort. It wouldn't be ideal, but if Sammy WAS sorted into Gryffindor, maybe Dean could have some words with Lupin and they could come to some sort of understanding. Lupin as an individual was calm and studious, rather quiet. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible if he was keeping an eye on his little brother.

Ideally, Sam would be made a Hufflepuff and Dean could keep an eye on him himself, but he knew realistically that that wouldn't happen. Sammy just didn't have the temperament. There hadn't been a single hunt they'd been on together where Sammy had just done as he was told without asking question after question. He had never had Dean's philosophy of just shut up and do it. He never understood that if he would just quit complaining and do the work that was necessary, that it would get done that much faster. When Dad gave an order, Dean obeyed immediately. Sam always had to ask why, always had to argue... Yeah, there was no way that Sam would ever be a Hufflepuff. 

As silly as the name had sounded, there were some qualities to the house that Dean couldn't deny having a fondness for; hard work, discipline, loyalty... The Sorting Hat had been quite adamant that he was a Hufflepuff regardless of his own self-image as a rebel with a 'give-em-hell' attitude. He didn't think of himself as particularly kind or caring, but he couldn't help noticing that when the younger 'Puffs needed a big brother, he was the one that they came to. Family was important to Dean and his House had become his family away from home. He always did his best to protect them from the shenanigans of the other Houses. 

So, when he had begged to be a Gryffindor because he knew he was brave (seriously, how many other eleven year olds could stand their ground against a banshee?), the Sorting Hat had refused. When he'd countered by at least asking to be made a Slytherin, because he thought he was rather resourceful and could think his way out of tight situations, the Hat was simply not to be swayed. He didn't even try to make himself a case for Ravenclaw, so he had puffed out his chest and sauntered over to the Hufflepuff table as if he hadn't a care in the world. So what if it was a stupid name? Dean would still be the bravest and most damned cunning hunter at the table, regardless of the label. 

Looking back on it now, it only galled him a little that the Sorting Hat had been right about him. And in all honesty, badgers could have some pretty nasty tempers, so maybe the image wasn't all that bad. Still, he had never, EVER told any of his human acquaintances that he was a Hufflepuff. As far as Dad knew, he was in the Badger Dorm and that was the end of it.

More names were called and Dean had to struggle not to tear his hair out. They had only just gotten to 'G' and he was not going to survive the stress if they didn't hurry up and get through it. He ran his hand through his spiky hair, not caring that it looked mussed and a bit bedraggled; his hair was supposed to look like that. It was edgy and rebellious, not like the neat and slicked back hair of the 'good kids' and definitely not the long, shaggy manes of the 'hipster kids'. Dean had his own style.

He huffed out a breath, almost amused by his own nervous anxiety and turned his attention to the Ravenclaw table. 

Sammy would be a great Ravenclaw. He had been reading books far beyond his age level since before Dean could remember. He was smart as a whip and more educated than Dean could ever hope to be. Four years younger, and he was definitely the smart one in the family. If they hadn't been born into hunting, Dean could easily have imagined Sammy getting a full scholarship to Stanford or Yale, or any of the other Ivy Leaguers anywhere in the world. His baby brother was just that smart. He would definitely make a good Ravenclaw. 

Ravenclaw wouldn't be a bad house for him, either. In fact, it was probably the best option. He didn't really know many of the Ravenclaws personally; they tended to keep to themselves and while none of them were really antagonistic, they didn't always understand Dean's sense of humor. Or about ninety percent of the things that he was interested in, for that matter. 

Dean remembered having a conversation once with the new Ravenclaw prefect, a boy named Castiel Novak. He wasn't certain which of them had walked away more confused by the exchange. He couldn't remember what exactly the question had been, but when Castiel had responded that the answer could best be explained by a series of partial differential equations, Dean had quickly panicked and retreated to a safer corner of the castle. Still, he seemed like a decent guy and there was no denying that he was bright even if he did take everything that was said to him in its most literal sense. A simple 'Hey, how's your day going?' was likely to be answered with 'In a linear fashion, chronologically measured by the common standard of time.' Which didn't make him a bad guy, but if Dean was going to ask him to look out for his baby brother, he would have to be very careful with how he phrased the request. 

Dean chewed on his lip, watching Novak at the next table over. There was something about him that was just fascinating and Dean couldn't help himself from staring every time the boy caught his attention. He was just so STILL. Every other person in the great hall was fidgeting and moving and engaging in some sort of motion, consciously or unconsciously, but Castiel Novak could sit still longer than any other human being that Dean had encountered. Both feet on floor, hands folded carefully in his lap, black hair mussed even more wildly than Dean's, almost as if he'd never seen a comb in his life, blue eyes wide and intense and focused and not even THEY were moving... Novak could stare at a person like it was a sport and he was the undefeated grand champion of the world. While Milton stared at the world around him, Dean found himself more times than not just watching Novak. It was a guilty pleasure. And if Sammy was in Ravenclaw, then Dean would have more opportunities to speak with the Ravenclaw prefect about things that weren't so complicatedly academic that Dean wanted to cry. It would be easier to strike up a conversation about how his brother was doing and go from there than it ever had been trying to casually ask about a book Novak was reading or an assignment for a class they shared. A simple conversation with Castiel Novak was something that he could look forward to.

Finally, FINALLY, Sammy was sitting on the chair with the Sorting Hat on his head and Dean was just allowing himself to breathe a sigh of relief, having decided in his head that Sammy was going to be in Ravenclaw and everything was going to be alright... when the Hat called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Dean swallowed hard as the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

Well. That had certainly been unexpected.

Alright, so Dean would have been lying if he had said that he was entirely, one hundred percent OKSY with Sam being in Slytherin. It was one thing for Dean to be the outcast with a chip on his shoulder, the rebel without a cause... but for Sammy? 

The thought of Sammy alone in a room full of Slytherins made his stomach twist. When the food appeared, he had to force himself to eat and to not spend the entire feast shooting worried looks at the Slytherin table, trying to gauge his brother's reaction to his sorting. More than that, he was trying to get a read on the Slytherin prefect. Unlike Lupin and Novak, Dean had almost no reason in the past four years to really give much notice to the greasy-haired boy that looked just as unhappy and put-upon as Dean was feeling just then. He didn't have any classes with the Slytherin that he could recall, and he felt a bit sheepish that he'd spent so many years in the same school with him and couldn't even recall with absolute certainty what his damned name was. His Dad would be ashamed of him if he knew how unobservant he'd been.

Still, there was time to correct that and correct that he would. As soon as they were dismissed for the night, Dean was on his feet and sneaking through the throng of people until he could grab the Slytherin by the arm to get his attention. He was met with cold black eyes that were a little too deep set over his awkwardly large nose. And if looks could kill, Dean's heart would be freezing in his chest. The dark eyes glanced down at the hand on his sleeve and then back up to narrow disdainfully when they met Dean's gaze.

Dean quickly released his grip, wondering if the boy was so disdainful of his touch because he was a Hufflepuff or if it was because he was human and not a full-blooded wizard as the purist snobs would have preferred. He had an uncomfortable awareness of just how prejudiced some of the snakes could be at times. But, hell, for all he knew it could have been because he was an American. Who could ever say for a certainty why a Slytherin got their panties in a twist?

Dean plastered on his most charming smile, the one that never, EVER failed to get him laid. "Hey there, uh..." Dean sorta wished that he at least knew the prefect's name. "...er, Simon? Right?"

Black eyes blinked slowly at him and for a moment Dean thought that a full-scale wizard duel was about to be declared in the middle of the Great Hall, but then the other boy's chin tilted up and those black, shark-like eyes were glaring at him from down the side of that almost ridiculous nose of his. "It's Severus, actually, but I suppose for a Hufflepuff, getting the first letter right could be considered quite an accomplishment. You should speak to a professor about getting house points for the achievement."

Dean just smiled wider. He had to respect a person who could come out with both guns blazing like that. "Well, you know us Hufflepuffs. Gotta get started on those points right away to have a decent shot at fourth place."

Evidently, the self-deprecating humor was the correct route to take because some of the ice seemed to crack a little and the boy chuffed a breath that could ALMOST have been a laugh.

Dean grinned, congratulating himself on a minor conquest. "Right, then. Severus. Can I talk to you for a second?"

"If it will facilitate the removal of your presence, then by all means. Talk."

"Right, so..." Dean shifted his weight on his feet, trying to read the Slytherin and failing miserably. He was usually good at reading people, about knowing what to say to play into their trust and get them to like him. Earning a stranger's confidence when they had less than no reason to give it was an important skill for a hunter. But reading Severus was like trying to see through a brick wall. Damned beady black eyes and stony gargoyle-like expressionless face. 

Dean sighed, uncomfortable that he was essentially taking this conversation blind. "So, uh... My little brother Sammy, well..."

Severus raised his eyebrows, wordlessly asking him to get to the point.

Dean shifted again. "Right, so my brother, Sammy, was just sorted into your House, and you know... As his big brother, it's sort of my job to worry about him... You know, make sure he's doing his homework and not staying up reading East German philosophy at all hours of the night... And..." Dean grit his teeth, wishing he knew more about who he was talking to, hating that he didn't. "And I just want to make sure that somebody's looking out for him, you know, watching his back. I can't really do that from over in the Hufflepuff dorm and well... I guess I was just wondering if I could trust you... To look out for him when I can't."

At that, both of the Slytherin's dark eyebrows shot up, nearly to his hairline. If Dean had thought that the boy was impossible to read before when he had no expression on his face but haughty self-importance, it was almost worse with the rapid fluctuations of emotion that he was contending with now. Dean struggled to keep up with picking them out; eyes widened in surprise, brow furrowed in confusion, mouth twitching into something unreadable that quickly shifted to narrow-eyed suspicion... then anger? 

Severus' voice was brittle and harsh, "What are you playing at? Did THEY put you up to this?"

Dean frowned, his own suspicion starting to trigger at the crazy way that Severus was scanning the crowd of migrating students, apparently trying to catch a glimpse of somebody in the weaving throng. Dean frowned and twisted his head to see what the Slytherin was looking for, but quickly gave up and asked instead, "Did WHO put me up to this? And why would they?"

Severus scowled and gave up his own crowd search in order to peer suspiciously at Dean, his entire demeanor flinty with sharp edges. "You should beware; I do not take kindly to being mocked. Least of all by a..." Sneer. "...Hufflepuff." He glared as he leaned forward in a manner that would have been intimidating to a normal Hufflepuff. After all, the boy was fairly tall and even though he seemed quite skinny, he could make his robes puff out and billow in a way that would give any comic book villain a run for their money. His voice had dropped to a venomous hiss, spit from between his clenched teeth. "It's bad enough those bloody Gryffindors want to make my life miserable... Now they're enlisting bloody HUFFLEPUFFS to harass me too?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Dean wasn't all that short himself and he knew that physically, he could probably snap the other kid in half. Being a hunter had taught him plenty about keeping himself fit. Playing on the Quidditch Team as a beater for the better part of the last three years had only encouraged him to maintain his physique. He wasn't at all intimidated, but he knew enough about human nature to know that allowing Severus to THINK that he was intimidated might be more beneficial to his cause just now, so he took a step back and slumped his shoulders a bit, allowing his posture to weaken. "Look, I'm not trying to harass anybody..."

Severus's face was white and his hands were curled into tight fists and Dean glanced back along the direction that the other boy had been looking with sudden clarity.

Dean raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, the Gryffindors have nothing to do with this, so take a breath and relax. This is me, Dean Winchester, asking you to look out for my brother, Sammy Winchester. Sammy the Slytherin. See? No lions involved, just a manly exchange between us snakes and badgers here. It's my brother that we're talking about. Why would the Gryffindors care if I ask you to look out for my brother?"

After a few moments of fragile tension, the Slytherin took a breath and seemed to relax the merest fraction of a bit. "As if being seen associating with Hufflepuffs is any better than being accosted by Gryffindors."

Dean shrugged, not to be cowed. "Well, like I said, I need somebody to look out for my brother and if I can't trust you to do it, then I'll have to do it myself. Can you just imagine what people will say about having a Hufflepuff camping outside your dungeon?"

Severus blinked. "You can't be serious."

"I'll even make sure to wear my bunny slippers and dinosaur pajamas and you'll have to step over my snoring, cuddly self every night and every morning for the next three years. I might even bring some 'puffy decorations to make it feel more like home. A few plants, a few throw pillows, a squishy stuffed badger or two, a bit of yellow to brighten the dungeons up a little."

"What an absolutely revolting thought." Severus rolled his eyes, heaving out a put-upon sigh. "Very well, if it will save us all from being inflicted with you, I will promise to look after your brother. You said his name was Sam?"

Dean couldn't help but smile his gratitude. "Right. Sam Winchester."

The Slytherin prefect turned to go, but glanced sideways back at the Hufflepuff. "I shouldn't have to remind you that Slytherins do look out for their own regardless."

And it was true, really, the snakes WERE a pretty tight knit group. "Not to sound like a dick, but I couldn't just trust any Slytherin to protect my baby brother." Severus began to tense up and Dean lifted his chin. "But you? I think I can trust you. I mean, you're not just any Slytherin, right? You're Severus. I think I can trust Severus to look after Sammy for me."

Dean couldn't read the expression on Severus's face, before the boy turned with a billow of his black robe and began striding towards the entrance of the great hall, barking out a sharp, "Slytherin first years! Follow me!"

Dean couldn't help noticing that Sam was trying to avoid him but Dean still managed to snag him around the neck as he passed to give his floppy blond hair an affectionate ruffle. Sammy twisted and squirmed his way out of the headlock and tried to straighten his hair while glaring daggers at him.

"Come on, man, could you BE any more obnoxious?"

Dean grinned, watching his brother walk away. "Bitch!"

Sammy turned back momentarily, calling over his shoulder, "Jerk!"

Dean laughed. His brother would be okay and he would still get to harass him on occasion throughout the day. Everything was going to be fine. It was only then, after watching all the little snakes file out after their prefect that he realized that he had his own prefect duties to attend to. With a last glance at his brother's retreating back, he made his way back over to the Hufflepuff table, shaking out his arms to get his blood flow pumping. His little Hufflepuff cubs deserved to have a great first night in Hogwarts and it was his job as a prefect to get the school year started off right. Fortunately for the little badgerlets, he was a Hufflepuff that knew how to party.

"Alright, kids! Who's ready to see the coolest dorm in the castle?"

Chapter Text

Dean gave it a week. It was only polite, after all, and he didn't want to make a pest of himself. And it helped that he got a chance to see Sammy at mealtimes and sometimes in between classes in the hallway -- although, he would deny taking the long way around to some of his classes just to make sure their paths intersected. 

So, he gave it a week before he hunted down Severus Snape to interrogate him on how his brother was settling into the Slytherin dormitory. He had even been good about not pestering the boy when he saw him at the first prefect meeting of the year when the duty schedule was divided up amongst them. He had been good during the week, but now Dean Winchester was on a mission.

He hefted his bag higher up on his shoulder as he poked his head into the library. It wasn't a place that he would willingly find himself very often, but he had it on good authority that the Slytherin prefect could be found there most nights between dinner and curfew. Taking a fortifying breath, Dean sauntered into the library as if he had every right in the world to be there. 

Which he did, really. It was stupid to be intimidated by a library. It just made him uncomfortable. He was perfectly capable of studying if he needed to, but it was just a fact of life that Dean was and always would be much more comfortable doing his research where nobody could watch him.

Not willing to analyze his own sense of inadequacy, Dean made a beeline across the library, glancing between aisles and stacks of books and deliberately schooling himself to not look lost. He was startled from his search by a deep voice speaking from practically his elbow. 

"Hello, Dean."

Dean ground his teeth, swallowing hard to keep back a yelp of surprise. He hated being startled, but when it was Castiel Novak blinking up at him with his gigantic blue eyes, it was very, VERY difficult for him to show an appropriate amount of disgruntlement. Dean swallowed and wobbled between a grimace and a half-smile. "Uh, hey there, Cas. Didn't see you there."

The Ravenclaw blinked slowly. "We were practicing disillusionment charms. It would be somewhat contrary to purpose if you had seen me here."

And just like that... Dean's mouth went dry, his palms went sweaty, butterflies in his stomach and the whole obnoxious shebang. He had a well-earned reputation as a bit of a Huffle-whore, but none of the clandestine rendezvous or the casual trysts that he had engaged in had ever made him feel that fluttery, jittery nonsense that he had mocked his year-mates over.
The fact that he was feeling that way now after a mere two sentence exchange with the Ravenclaw boy that he had NOT been obsessing about for the last few years... 

There was only one conclusion that Dean could come to; he was rapidly turning into a thirteen year old girl. Son of a bitch.

He smiled wide and shifted his feet. "Yeah, that's a good point." Smooth. Real smooth. He sorta wished the ground would swallow him whole.

A sharp cough overlaying a snicker drew his attention to the other side of the small study table. Severus Snape. Just who he was looking for. The boy's head was tilted down and his greasy hair was hanging down in front of his face, but it didn't really disguise the amused sneer on his face.

Dean grinned. "Severus! Just the man I wanted to see." He slung his bag down and slid into the seat next to Castiel and across the table from the Slytherin. It wasn't... WASN'T because he thought sitting next to a certain blue-eyed Ravenclaw might give him an opportunity to accidentally bump, slide, brush against him in any way. Because, really, he wasn't THAT pathetic. Honest.

Severus raised a dark eyebrow, grumbling, "I am not doing your homework for you."

Dean coughed into his hand to hide a smile, but it was Cas that spoke. "Dean is perfectly capable of completing his own homework. He is actually much smarter than he would have most people believe..." Blue eyes flicked back down to the text that was open in front of him. "... in spite of his tendency towards more physical pursuits and his unfortunate and fluctuating taste in women."

Dean blushed. He didn't think that he COULD blush, but he felt it burning all the way up to his ears. "Erm, yeah..." He coughed hard again, clearing his throat to hide his embarrassment. He wasn't sure if it was the thought that Castiel had been watching him close enough to know about his grades or the thought that he'd seen Dean with enough of the female population to have an opinion on his dating habits. He honestly hadn't realized that Castiel had paid that close attention to him. The thought was strangely... comforting... at the same time that it made him extremely uncomfortable.

He ducked his head and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off whatever crazy thing it was that was distracting him so badly. Damned blue eyes and crazy beautiful sex hair. "So! Severus! I just wanted to touch base with you and see how my baby brother is settling in."

Severus sighed and closed the text that he was reading, sliding it out of the way and folding his hands in front of them on the table. "What do I have to say to make you go away?"

Castiel gave Severus a look that was clearly a 'Behave or I'm leaving' look if ever Dean had seen one. And that was almost an entirely new set of uncomfortable feelings. How close did you have to be to somebody to be able to pull off that sort of silent communication? 

Dean wished he was that close with somebody... In spite of his status as one of the more popular guys in his house, the only person he was really close to was his brother, and to be truthful, they hadn't been all that close since Dean had left for school.

It wasn't that he was jealous of the look that Severus returned to Castiel or the silent way that he seemed to acquiesce to whatever it was that Castiel was silently requesting. As far as he knew, they didn't teach Telepathy on the curriculum, so whatever silent speak thing they had going on with each other was just because they were really close friends and he MIGHT have been a bit jealous of that... maybe... 

If only he could say one complete, thoughtful sentence to Castiel without stuttering and looking like a complete idiot because he was distracted by those high cheekbones and the perfect pink lips that rarely seemed to smile, but when they did it was like getting shocked in the balls with lightning because DAMN and the worst thing about it was that Dean wasn't even GAY and he was undeniably thirsty for the guy and his gorgeous fucking sex hair...

Dean cleared his throat again, trying to force his mind back onto the relevant topic. "Well, the thing is, I have this strange sort of social disease. You see, the more you try to get rid of me, the harder I cling and the longer I stay. I'm a little like genital herpes that way. So if you REALLY wanted to get me out of your hair, you would just tell me how my brother's doing."

"Your brother is fine. In fact, I would go so far as to say that he's even remarkably self-sufficient."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? And? Is he making friends? Is he settling in?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "He seems to be?"

"You say that like you don't know for sure."

"Because I don't know for sure. I haven't made it my life's work to follow the first years around all week. Holding hands and wiping noses isn't in my job description as a prefect as you well know."

"Dude, I'm not asking you to hold his hand, I just want..."

Severus glared. "I have, however, made it very clear to anyone that required telling that he is not to be harassed solely on the merit of his blood status."

"Oh. Um. Thank you."

Severus scowled and leaned forward a bit, dark eyes narrowing in a half-sneer. "Listen, Huff Puff, I'll let you in on a bit of a secret. Regardless of what the rest of the school believes, Slytherins don't just skulk about in the dungeons performing dark rituals and blood sacrifices, alright? Yes, there are a few wizards in my dorm that I wouldn't be caught in a dark alley with, but I can name just as many nasty buggers from each and every other house, including yours! I don't take kindly to your derogatory assumptions that a child would find himself bloodied and abused merely because he was sorted into my house!"

Castiel didn't look up from the text in front of him. He merely turned a page and kept reading while he spoke, "Dean wasn't making aspersions against your house, Severus. He was fully intending to make an ass of himself to whichever prefect was deemed necessary by his brother's placement. I daresay he was hoping Sam would be in Ravenclaw so he would have an excuse to pester me about the subject. The fact that you are the prefect of Slytherin makes his association with you merely incidental." He did look up then, blinking his wide blue eyes owlishly at Dean. "It wasn't that difficult to notice that you were singling out all of the other prefects during the Sorting Ceremony, Dean." Cas returned his attention to the book.

Dean blinked. "You were watching me during the Sorting Ceremony?" Cas had been watching him. Castiel Novak had been watching him.

Cas looked up at him, his eyes clear and innocent. "Of course not. I was paying attention."

Dean blinked, struggling to get his mind working fast enough to determine what the difference was between watching and paying attention, but he was saved by Severus, quiet and matter of fact. "Alright, Winchester. Surprisingly enough, I do actually wish to set your mind at ease, so I will tell you the things that would set MY mind at ease in your position. A Slytherin survives by his utility, be it political connections, wealth, family... whatever. But a Slytherin with tangible skills... that's a far superior thing to be, because while family can be disgraced and wealth can be spent, the ability to be skillful, to be USEFUL to those with wealth and power... well, that doesn't go away. From what little interaction that I've had with him, I can already tell that Samuel is very smart and very capable. There are quite a few of his year mates who will find him useful and therefore well worth protecting."

Dean listened, gaze sharp on Severus' face to attempt to discern if there was any subtext that was being spoken just under the surface of what was being said. "Wait a minute, useful? Useful to who?" He didn't like how that phrase made him want to substitute in the word 'used' instead.

Severus shrugged. "I don't know. Just useful." There was a hint of chill in the words, not enough to be blatant, but enough to convey that there was something uncomfortable about the subject. Dean wondered what it was. Had Severus found protection in being useful to somebody? Had he needed protection? Had he been used somehow?

"I, uh... I gotta say, that doesn't really make me feel better, Sevvy."

"Do NOT call me Sevvy."

"Alright. Severino?"

"No."

Castiel chuckled softly, turning a page. "Severus is particular about altered versions of his name, particularly when they are employed by strangers. I'm sure that once he's comfortable with the fact that you have no wish to slight him, he will be more amenable to the use of affectionate nicknames."

Dean blanched. Severus ruffled.

"Affectionate nicknames? I am not nor have I ever been amenable to affectionate nicknames!"

Castiel continued to read, unperturbed. "Nonsense. You let Lily Evans call you 'Sev' and have never once made an objection to it."

Severus deflated a little bit, grumbling petulantly. "That's different."

Cas smiled. "It's different because she's your friend, Severus."

"That isn't the subject under debate."

"It is. Or are you suggesting that you WOULD have a problem if I were to call you Sev?"

Dean propped his elbow on the table and set his chin in his palm so he could hide his smile while he watched the exchange.

"But you DON'T call me Sev, therefore you are extrapolating that I would or wouldn't have a problem with a set of entirely theoretical circumstances! That makes the entire argument moot."

Castiel grinned and Dean's heart thumped sadly in his chest, elated that he could see the Ravenclaw smile and yet thoroughly miserable that the smile wasn't for him.

"It's a fairly easy hypothesis to test, Sev."
Severus bristled and flexed his jaw but said nothing and pulled his text back in front of him. Dean couldn't help letting out a delighted laugh to match Castiel's pleased smirk.

"I think he's got you by the short and curlies, dude."

Severus glared balefully at Dean for a moment before visibly deflating a bit. He repositioned the book in front of him, grumbling to himself, "...pick a fight with a bloody Ravenclaw..."

Cas smiled and Dean laughed. He knew it was time to make his escape, but he didn't actually want to. "Well, I guess I'd better -"

He was cut off by the loud slam of a large book hitting the table. "Snivellus! I thought I told you to keep your greasy paws off my girlfriend!"

Dean couldn't help rolling his shoulders when he looked up. A challenge was a challenge, even if it wasn't aimed at him, and loosening his body for a fight was a habit too far ingrained in him to ever change. 

James Potter was angry enough to spit nails and Sirius Black was next to him, smugly pleased, clearly enjoying the prospect of a confrontation. Peter Pettigrew was just as excited, for all that he stood back just out of range if things happened to get violent. Remus Lupin stood even further back, uncomfortably glancing left and right down the stacks, either looking for an escape route or keeping an eye out for interrupting teachers. Severus had hunched his shoulders forward and up, protecting his neck from potential threat. It was a defensive gesture that looked just as ingrained in the Slytherin boy as preparing for battle was in Dean... except Severus was preparing himself to get beaten, like an abused dog. 

Dean's mind flashed back to their first conversation just after the sorting ceremony, and the anger and suspicion... the not quite indiscernible relief when Severus had decided that Dean HADN'T been sent to speak to him by the Gryffindors...

"Forgive me, Potter," Severus practically spat the name, "I hadn't realized you and Black were going steady, now, but regardless, I wouldn't touch him with gloves on."

Black slammed his hands on the table, and Severus flinched. Lupin did too, Dean was interested to note. "Don't make me vomit, Snivellus... there isn't enough soap in the world to get clean after being touched by a greaseball like you."

Potter straightened, pushing his glasses up his nose in a manner that should have been completely geeky, but somehow managed to be another scare tactic. "Evans is off limits to you, Snape. Don't force me to remind you again."

Dean had to struggle not to laugh. He didn't scare easily. In fact... "Evans... Evans...Why does that name sound familiar? Oh, wait! Isn't that the Gryffindor chick that plays for the Slytherin team?"
All the attention at the table turned to focus on Dean. It was almost as if everyone had forgotten he'd been sitting there.

Potter fixed him with a chilly glare. "And just what do you know about it, Hufflewhore?"

Dean laughed. "I know she is one feisty piece of tail. Dude, just the sounds she made! Prettiest pair of green satin panties... Damn but you could bounce a quarter off that ass, couldn't you? I hate to say it Potter, but I heard she hates guys with glasses. They just lack that vitality she likes, but hey, I guess that's why she hangs out with snakes, right?"

It was hard to tell who was more ready to throw down the gauntlet over the words he'd said, but he risked a sly wink in Severus' direction as he leaned his chair back, balancing on the back two legs.
Potter's face twisted, looking for all the world as if he'd just swallowed his tongue and was trying not to choke on it. 

It was Cas that spoke, though. "I think you're mistaken Dean. You might have Lily Evans confused with one of your other conquests. She's actually quite a demure young lady from what interaction that I've had with her, but you are correct. She does tend to associate with Slytherins of the non-optically challenged variety."

Dean snorted, smirking up at Potter. "Dude, you just got called optically challenged! By Cas! That's hilarious!"

Potter's face had only just managed to turn red with fury before Black had circled the table to grab Dean by the collar of his school robe. He had only just to do much else before Dean twisted and slid his leg under him, using the other to shove the precariously balanced chair up and forward to jab the lags straight into Black's belly. Dean had already done the math on this conflict. Pettigrew was worthless and Lupin wouldn't fight. Potter was all bluster and cockiness; he was no threat to Dean, at least not physically. It was Black he had to focus on. Black may have been taller and heavier than Dean, and perhaps could overpower him eventually in a toe to toe punching match, but Dean was a brawler and would be damned to hell if he let anybody take him down without some severe internal bleeding.

Black snarled and rubbed his belly, backing off to give himself space while he reassessed the new factor in the 'Baiting Severus' game. Dean smiled and blew him a kiss. Black leaped forward, aiming a right hook to the side of Dean's face even while colored light flashed at him from the tip of Potter's wand. A silvery shield bloomed up to cover him even while he grabbed Black's wrist and used the momentum from his own punch to throw him sideways and into the bookcase behind them. He couldn't spare a moment to laugh at the tumble of books that crashed down on Black's head. He dragged his wand from the quick-draw holster on his wrist and whipped it at Potter, shouting, "Salis Surculus!"

He knew first hand how much it hurt to get hit by a shotgun blast full of rock salt. Not lethal but painful enough to take you down for at least a few hours. Shooting a concentrated blast of salt from a wand was one of the first things he'd taught himself to do. He didn't understand the fascination the other kids had with hexes and jinxes. Bat boogies and jellylegs were nothing compared to taking an opponent down with good, old-fashioned, debilitating pain. AND it wasn't against the rules.

Potter went down with a scream and by the flailing and yelping, he could tell that he'd gotten Pettigrew as well. He turned quickly, training his wand back on Black who was just now lurching to his feet.

"Unless you want a face full of pain, Black, I suggest you take your buddies and low tail it out of here."

Black glared at him, then glanced over at Lupin for help. The Gryffindor prefect had his wand out, but there was a pleading look in his eyes. "Please, Siri, I'm a prefect now... I shouldn't be involved in this..."

Dean tilted his head. "Oh! And that's another thing! Twenty points from Gryffindor for causing a commotion in the library. Interrupting the quiet study environment or whatever that shit is."

Black curled his hand into a fist and stepped forward, but Dean stood his ground. 

"You trying to scare me, tough guy? Maybe I should make it fifty!" Black was livid and the tension in the room was almost enough to wade through. Dean didn't make a move and neither did Castiel who had stepped up beside him, the light of a shielding charm still pulsing steadily from the tip of his wand. The only sound was that of Potter coughing and gasping in pain. Finally Black lowered his fist with a glare and moved to help his friend to his feet.

Potter leaned heavily against Black. His glasses were skewed and he was clutching his chest. "Don't think that we'll forgive you for this, Winchester... You and your Hufflepuffs had better watch yourselves."

Dean laughed. "Is that a threat? Cause I'm pretty sure I can take points away for that, too..." He turned to look at the Ravenclaw prefect beside him. "Can't I?"

Castiel nodded. "I think it falls under showing disrespect for positions of authority. You could also give detention for that."

Potter glared at Pettigrew and Lupin. "Aren't you even going to do anything?"

Lupin huffed a sigh. "Such as what, Jamie? No matter what I say or do, two prefects just watched you pick a fight with the third. Baiting Slytherins is one thing but not even McGonagall will back you if it's three houses to one."

Dean didn't think there was much to be said to that, but Potter and Black still gave him dirty looks as they passed, clearly chalking it up as a betrayal regardless of how valid Lupin's argument was. After three of the four Marauders disappeared around the shelves, Lupin looked at Severus, opened his mouth to say something but closed it again with a despondent sigh, as if deciding that no words would ever be enough to express what he felt he needed to say.

It was to Dean that Lupin finally turned. "I don't... I don't condone it, or anything..." Then he turned to leave without another sound.

There were pages and pages of words that Dean could have called Lupin as he left, but it seemed to be too much effort. Either Lupin didn't understand that that sort of bullying was wrong or he didn't care and nothing Dean could say or do would change it. He almost would have called him a coward if the hat hadn't put him in Gryffindor. But then again, Dean tended to have very high standards when it came to labeling a person as 'brave'. He was brave. His dad was brave. His Uncle Bobby and a hundred other hunters out there.

Dean righted his chair and sat down. "Well, that was fun."

Castiel frowned, sliding his wand back into a pocket in his robe. "I'm not certain I understand your definition of 'fun'."

"It's, uh... You know... nevermind." Castiel looked even more sexable when he was puzzled about something and Dean didn't think he could survive even a few more seconds of seeing those eyebrows drawn down over the squinted blue eyes and slightly wrinkled nose... Damn.

Dean turned to say something to Severus just to give himself a way to stop looking at Castiel. "Severu..." The boy hadn't moved from his seat, but he was white and shaking. "Sev? Hey, there..."

The Slytherin flinched when Dean put a hand on his shoulder. "Sev? You alright?"
Severus shook his head slowly, but his eyes were blank and unfocused.

Dean knelt by the chair. "Hey, if this is about what I was saying about Evans, you know I didn't mean any of it, I was just..."

"Why? Why would you do that?"
Dean was taken aback for a moment. "Do what? I was just trying to piss that jerk wad off. It didn't mean anything."

"Didn't mean anything? You... You stood up for me... That..." He dropped his head, obscuring his face with his hair.

Dean wasn't sure what to say to that, his mind struggling to resolve all of the contradictory, disjointed puzzle pieces that made up Severus Snape. He knew what he would say to his little badgers if one of them had come to him with the same hang-dog expression, the same doubts of self-worth weighing them down, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how he was supposed to say the same thing to an otherwise proud and fiercely self-reliant Slytherin.

It was Castiel that saved him from his struggles, "It's okay, Severus. Dean is just channeling his inner honey badger. Craziness and irrational decisions based on perceived threats and territoriality are only to be expected."

"Honey badger?" Dean frowned. "The hell is a honey badger?"

Castiel turned his wide unblinking eyes towards Dean and his features were almost completely blank save for the vague hint of an amused smile. "One of the most fearsome creatures known to man. Ironically enough, they've been known, on occasion, to single handedly take on a pride of lions when provoked."

Dean sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, well, provoked or not, this honey badger just declared all out war on the damned lions and I somehow doubt they're going to take it well." Dean dropped his head, hands clutching at his hair. It was far too early in the school year for the House wars to start and Dean's interference had probably earned the Hufflepuffs a front row seat to the proceedings. "I should probably go... I need to warn the rest of my house to keep an eye out and watch their backs, just in case."

Severus still hadn't recovered enough from whatever shock induced trance he'd fallen into, but Castiel smiled at him, just a little twitch of his lips, but it was enough of a smile and maybe that made all this trouble worth it.

Chapter Text

The rest of the weekend passed and then the next week. Dean didn't go out of his way to find Severus and Castiel, but managed to keep running into them all the same. He somehow found himself sharing a workbench with Castiel in Potions and sitting close enough to trade risqué pictograms with the quick witted Severus in their Ancient Runes class. It actually made the otherwise dull class surprisingly more educational; Dean never would have been able to memorize the Sidhe Binding rune if Severus hadn't pointed out that turning it sideways and adding a squiggle or two made it look remarkably like two fairies doing the hot and nasty on a kitchen table.

Dean even began to find himself taking lunch, occasionally, at the Slytherin table so he could fling peas at Sammy without having to launch them up and over half of the Great Hall to do it. He also liked to tease him about his rabbit food and see how many pieces of bacon he could stack on a single cheeseburger before Sammy rolled his eyes in disgust and complained about his arteries hardening just from the proximity. 

Severus had raised an eyebrow at him the first time he caught the Hufflepuff strutting over to the first year end of the table, but he didn't say anything against it. In fact, the next day when Dean did it again, Severus grabbed his textbook and left his spot in the middle of the long table to come down to the end to join them. 

Dean had only one real moment of anxiousness when Professor Slughorn stopped by to investigate the addition of a Hufflepuff at the Slytherin table, but the moment passed when Severus introduced Dean as Sam's older brother. Dean smiled pleasantly through several minutes of Slughorn waxing poetic about what a wonderful student his brother was and how fortunate he was to have such a bright prodigy in Slytherin. In all honesty, Dean didn't mind at all. He would always be the first on board the Sammy Bandwagon and listening to their teacher praising all the things about his brother that Dean already knew wasn't a hardship.

After Slughorn walked away, Dean didn't even try to hide his smirk. "The Slug Club? Sam, really?"

Sammy sighed dramatically, stabbing a fork into his salad. "It's nothing, don't be such a jerk."

Dean grinned around a mouthful of cheeseburger. "Bitch."

Cas slid onto the bench next to Dean. "Dogs, female or otherwise, are prohibited on the school grounds. I don't believe you could have seen one just now."

Dean blinked in surprise before the confusion took over, "Huh? What does..."

Severus rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "It's a bloody invasion..."

Sammy chuckled, shaking his head. "Awesome, Cas!"

Wide blue eyes blinked owlishly. "What is?"

Dean groaned. It wasn't fair for one person to be so freakishly adorable. He was screwed. He patted the Ravenclaw's shoulder. "You are, Cas. You're always awesome."

Cas blinked again, then his eyes crinkled up as he smiled and Dean's chest fluttered uncomfortably. He was so horribly screwed. He took another bite of his cheeseburger and tried to pretend the world wasn't out to get him.

* * *

Some days, of course, were harder than others. Those were days that Dean started to appreciate how difficult Herbology could be. Until now, he'd always considered it one of those classes where you showed up and got a passing grade as long as you didn't kill yourself or your bench partner. Even causing non-lasting damage usually still garnered a pass. 

And in all honesty, Dean didn't really dislike Herbology as much as he pretended he did. Wizard magic may have been ninety percent about the wand waving, but Hunter magic -- the kind that protected people from monsters -- usually involved mixing together some pretty interesting herbs. He could name about twelve that he would love to have in an herb garden of his own if he were ever in a position to settle down. The trouble with Hunting was that you moved too far, too fast. Herb gardens were for civilians. Still, he thought it was useful enough information to pay attention to. 

The only thing he was actually starting to hate about it was that Herbology was a class that Hufflepuffs shared with Gryffindors.

They didn't even have the decency to begin with subtle forms of harassment, either. The very first day that Dean had an inkling that the Marauders were out to punish him was the day they coated the inside of his work gloves with fertilizer. Then there was the Stinkweed that managed to find a home in his book bag. Not to mention the rather painful experience of the Briarthorns when his watering can had been mysteriously dosed with some sort of rapid growth potion; he was lucky that he hadn't been blinded before he could extract himself from the prickly mess.

The day they were scheduled to study Sex Pollen, Dean decided to cut his losses and just play hooky. He could take the hit to his grade. Spending a day faking an illness in the Hospital wing under Madame Pomfrey's disapproving gaze was bound to be better than waiting to see what the Gryffindors had planned for him.

He trudged into the Hospital wing with the most dejected and pitiful expression he could manage. He didn't have quite the Puppy Dog Eyes that Sammy did, but he could look pathetic enough to garner some sympathy if he wanted to.

"Madame Pomfrey? Madame Pomfrey, I'm feeling - "

"You're feeling perfectly healthy, Dean Winchester." The matron strode out of her office carrying a bottle and a cup to one of the beds. It was currently occupied by one of the first year Hufflepuffs, Hariet Smith, white faced and teary eyed, cradling her arm. "But I am glad you're here. You can take Miss Smith back to the dormitory after I mend her arm."

"Ouch..." Dean could feel his Big Brother instincts twitching as he walked closer and sat on the bed opposite. "How'd you do that?"

The little Hufflepuff sniffled. "A Gryffindor shoved at me and I fell off my broom."

Dean felt his jaw pop. He hadn't realized he'd started clenching it so hard. Madame Pomfrey tapped him lightly on the head to get his attention. "Stop fuming, Mr. Winchester. It was just an accident. I'm sure no one meant for her to get hurt. Now, you, Miss Smith, drink this down.." 

Madame Pomfrey handed the cup that she'd filled from the bottle to the first year. The poor girl did as she was told, not skimping on a drop even though she looked a little paler and quite a bit more green when she was finished. Pomfrey took the cup and bottle and returned to the office.

Dean leaned forward, lowering his voice a bit. "Hariet, why did the Gryffindor shove you off your broom?"

The little girl's lip trembled and she looked quickly towards the office to make certain they were alone. "None of them like us. He said we needed to learn our place again. I don't even know why, we haven't done anything to them... I've only ever been nice to everyone." She blinked and the tears threatened to overflow.

Dean quickly moved from the opposite bed to a spot right next to her so he could wrap his arm gently around her, Big Brother instinct kicking into emergency overdrive. 

"Hey, it's ok. I promisr, you didn't do anything to deserve getting hurt like that. It's not your fault so don't even think it, alright?" 

No, it was Dean's fault that his little badgerlets were getting hurt. If he hadn't stood up to those damned assholes in the library... "But, I'll tell you what: it stops now. From now on, if anybody, Gryffindor, pixie, jabberwocky or whatever... if ANYBODY treats you or any of the other first years with anything less than respect, I'm gonna hunt them down and beat some manners into them. You got that?"

Hariet nodded and nuzzled closer to him, wrapping him in a one-armed hug. It was probably the only thing keeping him from storming out of the Hospital Wing to find the little shit who did this and hang him upside down off the Astronomy Tower. Making his own life miserable was one thing, and he could grit his teeth and take it like a man, but if the Marauders had goaded the rest of their house into fucking with his first years, there was going to be serious retribution in the near future.

When Madame Pomfrey returned, Dean quickly slid out of the way so she would have room to wrap Hariet's arm in a sling. She was right, the break would be practically healed by the time they walked back to the dorm and it would be as good as new before breakfast; the sling was just for comfort's sake. 

Still, it wasn't the severity that had Dean thirsting for blood, it was the fact that it had happened at all. A broken arm could just as easily be a broken neck from the right height and shit like this only ever escalated. He was damned if he was going to stand by and let his younger housemates get hurt, though. If the Marauders wanted a fight, he'd be happy to give it to them.

Dean was still fuming an hour later after he'd settled Hariet into the Hufflepuff burrow with a promise to send the House Elves down with some extra hearty Kitchen Sink Stew to make her feel better and more dessert than she would know what to do with.

He was so caught up in his plans for retaliation that the figure that loomed in front of him actually caught him off guard. Before Dean could really think consciously about what he was doing, his hunter training kicked in and he had the figure's arm twisted up behind his back to the breaking point while the rest of him was pinned flat to the floor with Dean's knee securely in place on top of his spine. Just enough pressure to keep him down, but not enough to break him... yet.

Dean growled, "Well, this is a pleasant surprise, but I'm not sure I have anything to say to you, Lupin."

A pained gasp was his reply and Dean, feeling a twinge of mercy at least, if not actually guilt, eased up just enough pressure on the man's arm and back to make the conversation less tortuous.
"Winchester, please... Sorry... Just wanted to talk..."

"You can talk from down there, can't you?"

The other boy winced and gasped again, shaking his head in tiny movements. "Please..."

To be fair, Lupin WAS paler than he should be with enough hint of green to make him look sick and Dean knew the position had to hurt... Reluctantly, Dean sighed and hauled the Gryffindor to his feet, shoving him just a bit to put some distance between them in case the Gryffindor turned to attack.

"Okay? So talk."

Lupin turned to face Dean, rubbing his arm with an almost pitiful expression of entreaty on his face. "Look, I'm just... I'm sorry about what they're doing to you, I am... it's just... "

Dean laughed bitterly. "You're sorry about what they're doing to ME? Fuck, man, get your damned priorities in order. I can take care of myself." Dean flexed his jaw, the anger that hadn't yet managed to tame down rising again like a flash flood. "No, if you want to be sorry for something, be sorry for the fact that I had to explain to an eleven year old girl that her classmates didn't actually hate her or think that she wasn't nice enough or kind enough. That she didn't DO anything to deserve it. They just broke her arm and laughed at her for crying about it because your fucking friends have a bone to pick with ME. And all because I wouldn't let them bully some other defenseless kid! Explain to me in terms I can understand how that is supposed to be worthy of Gryffindor. The damned Sorting Hat keeps saying you people are supposed to be noble and brave. Because, I gotta tell you, Lupin, I look at your house and all I see is a bunch of bullies picking on kids for no reason at all. It can't be to feel better about yourselves, for the achievement of winning, because it's never a fair fight, is it? It's always three or four of you against an opponent who is usually at such a disadvantage when you catch them, they'd be hard pressed to even take on one of you."

Lupin shook his head quickly, "I agree with you about the little girl, that shouldn't have happened, but if you're talking about Snape, he always gives as good as he gets..."

"And he's practically a headcase for it! Do you know what Shell Shock is? PTSD?" At Lupin's blank look, Dean growled, "Of course you don't, you're a fucking wizard... Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. My uncle Bobby explained it to me one day. You see, my Dad was a Marine. He was a soldier, one of the best, and he's had it ever since he got back from Korea. It's this thing you get when you're in constant fear for your life. It makes you twitchy, you know? Jumpy. Constantly waiting for the enemy to jump out and kill you. I think it's a little sickening that I can see the same symptoms in a fifteen year old kid that I could in my Dad, who survived YEARS of being bombed and shot at and all kinds of other horrific shit that I can't even begin to imagine. You think Severus gets that twitchy because of shit that happens to him at home or the shit that happens to him here?"

Lupin at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself. "There's nothing I can do to stop it."

Dean nodded. "Fair enough. You're too chicken shit to get your hands dirty. I guess I can understand that if I pretend real hard that I'm a spineless insect with slime nodes where my balls should be. But here's something you CAN do. You give them a message for me. The bullying ends now. If any of you Gryffindors put a toe out of line when it comes to my Hufflepuffs, I will bite back and I will bite hard. I have it on good authority that honey badgers have some sharp fucking teeth."

He wasn't particularly pleased with the threat, but he wasn't sure how to make it much better, so he gave Lupin as threatening a once over as he could manage before pushing past him to make his way to Charms class.

Chapter Text

Dean was itching for a fight. He glowered at every Gryffindor that he could lay eyes on, hoping that one of them would give him an excuse to snap and start distributing pain with extreme prejudice. Unfortunately, since issuing his warning to Lupin only the week before, the Gryffindors had backed off and begun to play nice again.  

His brother had even noticed his attitude and begun to call him out on it. 

"Come on, Dean. Could you just drop it? Please?"

Dean blinked, a bite of pie halfway to his mouth. "Huh?"

"You've been staring at the Gryffindor table all lunch period. It's starting to get old."

Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled around the mouthful, "Your face is old."

"Dude, you're just... Ugh!" 

Sam looked well and truly disgusted and Dean couldn't help but smirk at his accomplishment. He glanced over at Severus who was also staring at the Gryffindor table. "So, what's got your goat?"

Severus glanced at him, "Nothing." He continued to scrutinize the far table. "Lupin's missing again."

Sure enough, the prefect in question wasn't at the Gryffindor table. Dean chewed slowly. "Huh..." It was unusual, but not exactly noteworthy. "It's probably just a cold or something. It's been going around the Hufflepuff dorm." 

"Merlin save us from Hufflepuffs with sniffles..."

Dean shot a grin towards Severus. "As if Slytherins with sneezes are any better. On the other hand at least they have the alliteration thing going for them." 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Alliteration? Really? I thought you were better than that."

Dean shook his head. "Nah, cause then you can take it a step further and you've got Gryffindors with gonorrhea. Who can resist that?" 

Severus had to struggle not to smile, shaking his head as he returned his attention to the book he was studying. Dean counted it as a victory. The table thumped when Castiel sat down, face drawn and pale. 

"Cas, you okay? What's up?" 

Cas huffed out an angry breath and rolled his eyes. "The ceiling, Dean."

"No, I mean, what's got your feathers ruffled?" 

Castiel flinched and stared down at the table, his ears and cheeks tinged with pink. "Wha-what makes you think that I have feathers?"

"Nothing, dude, it's just an expression." Dean frowned, his worry for the Ravenclaw drowning out all his other cares for the moment. "Seriously, though, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing is wrong."

Severus and Dean traded looks. Severus closed his book. Dean pushed aside his pie and folded his hands. They both looked at Castiel and waited patiently.

Cas stared at them both before finally slumping his shoulders in defeat. "Nothing's wrong, it's just... Our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is grossly misinformed and I think that our assignment this week is asinine and poorly developed. His opinions are biased and his viewpoints reflect a very narrow-minded bigotry concerning beings of alternate origins."

Dean blinked. "Come again?"

Cas pulled his notebook out. "We're supposed to be learning about defense against winged beasts this month and he wants us to write an essay about veela - veela! - and whether it would be more appropriate to compare them to harpies or sirens."

Dean couldn't help being puzzled. It sounded like any other sort of assignment to him, but he looked over at Severus for help and the Slytherin boy only shrugged. Dean fidgeted. "Not to, uh, sound like a complete dumbass or anything, but what's a veela?"

Castiel twitched his shoulders and dropped his gaze to the table. "Perhaps you should ask Professor Assbut. He's the one who added them to the 'winged beasts' curriculum." Cas quickly shoved his notebook back into his bag and made to stand. 

Dean reached across the table to grab his arm before he could move away. "Hey, come on, Cas, don't be that way." He tried out his deprecating 'don't blame me for being an idiot, please' smile. "I'm asking because I really don't know and if you don't tell me, I'm not gonna know any better, am I?" 

Castiel shrugged and tugged his arm free, skulking out of the Great Hall without a look back. Dean blinked in confusion, watching him go. “Aw, come on! I was just asking!” He glared at Sam who was giving him a pitying look. “What? Got something to say, too, short stuff?”

Sam shook his head. “It’s just sad, really. And how come you don’t know about veela? Castiel said it was part of your Dark Arts curriculum and that’s always been your favorite subject. It should be in your textbook, shouldn’t it?”

Dean blushed, shoulders hunching up defensively. “Yeah, well, just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean I read ahead or anything. I leave that kind of thing to you smart kids.”

Sam rolled his eyes, grumbling while he stabbed at his salad. “Wish you wouldn’t do that…”

“Do what?”

“Put yourself down like that. If you applied yourself, you would —”

“Hey! I apply myself plenty! Don’t I, Severus?”

Severus sighed, opening up his book again. “If you’re looking for someone to grant you permission to muddle along in passable obscurity, you’re barking up the wrong house. We strive for greatness in Slytherin, remember?”

Dean tossed his fork down. “You know what? Screw you, too!” He stood and slung his bag onto his shoulder. “Just because I don’t know what a damned veela is doesn’t mean I’m not damned good at what I DO know. I’d like to see any of you field strip an automatic faster than I can or compression test a car engine. Not all the things worth knowing come with a neat little letter that you can show off. And my grades are just FINE, thanks!” 

He walked away from the Slytherin table, partly regretting that he’d stormed off without finishing his lunch. If he was being honest with himself, he would admit that his stomach was too twisted up to have been able to eat much more anyway. 

He’d never argued with Cas before, not even on the Quidditch pitch, and the encounter left a funny taste in his mouth. The fact that his brother thought that he was just skating through his education was another bitter pill to swallow, but what did Sam know about it? 

Dean wasn’t a bad student. His grades were just fine, he didn't get into so much trouble that he had discipline issues. He was a prefect, for crying out loud. No, he wasn’t a bad student by any standard they cared to use, but he was a GREAT hunter and he helped his dad save lives. He’d been training to be a hunter since he was six years old and he was good at it. He’d never be as brilliant at theory and coursework as Sam was turning out to be, but if there was a lesson he could even minorly relate to hunting, he knocked it out of the park.

So what if he had never heard of one lousy monster? There were hundreds of thousands of them out there and he had a basic understanding of how to kill most of them. He was fairly certain that nobody, not Dad or Uncle Bobby, knew what a veela was. Where did Sam get off thinking that he didn’t apply himself or that he was just mediocre at schoolwork? Maybe he didn’t spend his free time reading ahead in the book because he could follow along much better in the classroom, but that didn’t give any of them, not Severus, not Cas, not even Sam, the right to look down on him for not doing more. 

Dean was twitchy and upset all through his next period and slipped a note to the other Hufflepuff prefect, asking if she wanted to meet him out behind the greenhouses for a bit of stress relief after classes were over for the day. The anticipation of a thorough and enjoyable make out session with a girl as pretty and sweet as Helen Marshall was enough to take his mind off of Cas’ bad mood and Sam’s judgemental bullshit and Severus’ offhand condemnation.

He MIGHT have taken extra notes in Defense Against the Dark Arts when the Hufflepuffs had their turn with it, but the extra attention he paid had nothing to do with anything Cas had said. It just turned out that winged monsters were very interesting and warranted very good notes. It had nothing to do with wanting to know what had put that awful look on Castiel’s face at lunchtime. 

And he absolutely was not still thinking about it later that night when he was waiting by the greenhouses, watching the sun sink down behind the forest. He could already see the moon, bright and large, low in the dusky sky. 

The baby ‘Puffs were going to have a field day in Astrology that night. The first years had just started on lunar cycles; the first labwork on a full moon was an exciting time every year. Dean had already arranged to have some warm pasties delivered to the common room for the little badgers to grab before trekking up to the Astronomy Tower and some hot chocolate and scotch eggs for a quick snack after they got back. Dean knew from experience, even before becoming a prefect, that if somebody didn’t take the time to dose the little buggers with sleeping draught, they would be bouncing off the walls until the sun came up and then he would have to deal with cranky little badgerlets all the next day. 

Dean's grin fell away as the moon got a little higher and Helen Marshall still hadn’t shown up. Surprisingly, being stood up didn’t bother him as much as he thought it should. It would have been nice to be exchanging warm, slow kisses and soft caresses with a sweet, warm girl, but he was just as happy having some alone time as well. That and she hadn’t actually said she could make it, just given him a noncommittal affirmative that meeting up might have been enjoyable. 

Dean sighed. He was losing his touch. Damned Cas. He was pretty sure it was all the Ravenclaw’s fault. 

“Dean!” Sam gave a relieved huff, coming further into view. “I’ve been looking for you!” 

Dean straightened and shrugged. “Yeah? Well, at least you were able to rule out the library and study hall, right?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Can you be serious? This is important.”

Almost like flipping a switch, Dean was able to shut off his sulky pensiveness. “What’s wrong?”

“Severus is about to do something really stupid.” 

“Yeah?” Dean leaned back against the glass, folding his arms across his chest. “Well, that's his prerogative, I guess. Thought you Slytherins didn’t have time to get yourselves into trouble, you know, being so busy at excelling and all…”

“Dean!” 

“Alright, alright. Fine. What’s going on?”

“After you left, one of the Gryffindors sent a note over. It said that if Severus wants to know where Lupin gets off to, he should show up at the Whomping Willow at moonrise tonight.”

Dean sighed, waiting for his brother to get to the point. 

Sam was practically vibrating with frustration. “Dean! Doesn’t that sound a little suspicious?”

“It sounds a lot suspicious actually. What do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, first I want you to stop being a jerk and get over yourself. Then I want you to, I don’t know, stop him?”

“I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but moonrise was about ten minutes ago. If he was going to go, he’d already be there by now.”

 “Yeah, but… can’t you at least go check on him and make sure he doesn’t get himself ambushed or killed?”

“He’s not going to get himself…” He broke off when he saw that Sam’s expression had gone from Exasperated Bitch-face #12 to the Puppy Dog Eyes of Doom. “Dammit. Well…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, so… if he’s already decided to go looking into it, nothing I say is gonna change his mind. But I can follow behind and keep an eye on him if you’d like.”

Sam’s shoulders drooped in relief. “Thanks, Dean. That would - that would be great.” 

Dean used his shoulders to push himself away from the building. He took one last look around, huffing out a sigh. He really should have been more upset about being stood up by a girl. Damned Ravenclaw, ruining his life, one missed hook-up at a time. “Right. I’ll take care of it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sammy.”

“What? Dean! I’m coming with you!”

“No, you’re going back to your dorm. I’m only chasing after one Slytherin tonight, and it’s not going to be you, understand?”

“I’m not a little kid anymore, Dean, I can make my own decisions.”

“Fair enough. But let’s just say that it would… behoove you… to decide to go back to your dorm before I have to decide to do something about it. Capisce?”

Sam huffed, beginning to waver but not quite there yet. “And what if I don’t capisce?” 

Dean tilted his head. “Well… do you remember that time I put N’air in your shampoo?”

Sam grimaced and nodded; it had been a rather traumatizing episode, after all.

“Now just imagine what I can do with a wand and an entire library of spell books at my disposal and nothing but free time.” 

Dean knew that he had won the moment Sam pulled out Bitch Face number thirteen, the one that said, ‘Dean has a point and there is nothing to be done about it’. 

“Good." He reached out and ruffled Sam’s hair, earning a squawk of indignation and a glare. "Now go back to your dungeon and, I don’t know, write a dissertation or something.”

Dean smiled to himself as he walked. Sam really was a good kid. And Severus was totally going to get an earful for letting the Gryffindors provoke him into traipsing around the grounds on the night of the full moon. 

Not that there was anything all that dangerous out on the grounds. When Dean had first arrived, he’d investigated every bizarre rumor that he’d encountered. There were plenty of ghosts in the castle, but McGonagall had expressly forbid him from exorcizing any of them. He wasn't even allowed to take care of the poltergeist in the castle; Dumbledore had made absolutely certain that he was aware that Peeves was a mascot and not to be harmed. There were no actual werewolves in the Forbidden Forest, only a pack of dire wolves that were a little too humanly intelligent to be natural, but they avoided people and weren’t nearly dangerous enough to consider hunting. 

There wasn’t even a proper haunting at the Shrieking Shack in spite of the preposterous rumors of it being the most haunted building in Britain. He'd made a point to sneak in and search it the first time he and his year mates had been allowed out to Hogsmeade. There was no ectoplasm, no EMF, and much to Dean’s chagrin, no actual sightings even though he’d spent every night for almost two weeks straight camped out in it.

All that to say, Dean was pretty sure that there was nothing within shooting range of Hogwarts or the village that was truly dangerous. Except for the Marauders of course.

And no sooner had he thought that than he saw James Potter hurrying down the hill with an expression of intent that was a lot more than suspicious and certainly enough that Dean felt justified in taking action. Dean didn't even give him a chance, he whipped up his wand and blasted the Gryffindor ass over tea kettle with a stunning hex, smiling with satisfaction at the expression of startled surprise when the Gryffindor went tumbling across the grass. 

"Going somewhere, Potter?" 

He was a little startled to see that it wasn’t angry indignation on James Potter's face when he struggled to right himself, but anxiety. Maybe even a little bit of fear.

"Winchester, you have to help me stop him!"

"Wait, what? Stop who?"

"Snape! He's going to get killed!" 

Dean shifted, reluctant to let the Marauder up in case the other three were nearby and he'd merely interrupted their ambush. It would just be too humiliating for him to have foiled their trap only to walk straight into it himself. "Care to elaborate?"

"He's... look, there's no time, we have to stop him before he..." Potter got to his feet, grabbing his wand. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I swear to you, I'm not joking about this."

He didn't, actually, look like he was joking. Dean tightened his grip on his wand. "If you are... there will be so much ass kicking in your future." 

Potter didn't wait for more pleasantries, he took off at a run. Dean growled his frustration and ran after him. If the Marauders got the jump on him, it would be embarrassing and probably a little painful, but he would get over it. If Potter was telling the truth and Snape WAS in danger… if something happened and Dean hadn't done what he could to stop it… There wouldn't be any getting over that. Ever.

He followed, eyes out for the other Marauders, trying to pick out shadows as he moved; the sun had dropped behind the mountains and the darkness of night was closing in on them, making it harder to see. One such shadow that loomed up ahead of them was the Whomping Willow. Dean tended to avoid it ever since first year when he'd been dared to run up and touch the trunk. He hadn't made it very far before waking up in the hospital wing with several broken ribs. 

The moon shining down made the large, club-like branches shine nearly silver. Dean grit his teeth, anticipating some frantic dodging or some severe pain as they neared, but the branches remained sedate. Dean spared a moment to wonder about his life when he could honestly think that it was weird that he wasn't being attacked by a tree. A moment was all he had time for, Potter was already at the trunk and disappearing under the roots. 

Dean followed behind, muttering curses under his breath. Potter was fast and by the time Dean had climbed down through the gap in the roots, he was already disappearing down the dark tunnel up ahead, the Lumos charm fading quickly the further away he got. "Potter! Son of a bitch..."

Dean cast his own light spell and ran, ducking under roots the looped down from the dirt ceiling and dodging this way and that as the passage twisted ahead of him. He couldn't see Potter anymore and it seemed he'd been running down the passage for miles. He was almost ready to stop and turn back, certain he'd been pranked when he heard a scream up ahead. 

"Son of a..." He sprinted ahead, seeing a light up ahead where the tunnel ended. Another shout and a yell, a crash. Dean burst through into a dusty room, wand ready to lay down cover fire. The slanted walls shuddered as something impacted on the other side of the door and Dean burst through to see James Potter slumped at the floor and Severus struggling out of a pile of broken furniture. 

That and a werewolf. There was definitely a werewolf standing in the center of the room in all of its short-snouted, tufted-tailed glory and currently advancing on Potter with a vicious snarl. 

Dean shouted to get the beast's attention and lashed out with a stinging hex aimed at its nose. There wasn’t a whole lot of magic that would do anything lasting against a European werewolf, but in Dean’s experience, nothing enjoyed having its nose flicked. And it gave him time to pull out a weapon that WOULD be effective. 

Dean shoved a hand into the deep pocket of his robe to grip the ivory handle of the .45 colt his dad had given him on his tenth birthday. The solid silver rounds he kept in the chamber were more than enough to take down a werewolf from either side of the pond. He straightened his arm, ready to shoot, but before he could pull the trigger, unimaginable pain clamped down on his arms, teeth tearing into flesh and jaws crushing down hard enough to snap the bone. 

Dean would deny screaming until the day he died, but broken bones were always an unpleasant experience, particularly when caused by the jaws of a giant black dog that easily weighed over a hundred pounds. His gun clattered uselessly to the ground and Dean grit his teeth, free hand balled into a fist that he began pummeling the black dog’s nose with. After three solid hits, it snarled and let go. Dean fell to his knees. His right arm was useless, the trembling fingers of his left hand scrabbling  awkwardly for the gun. He only just managed to snag it before Severus had grabbed him and jerked him to his feet, hauling him towards the exit. 

Dean blinked, trying to clear his head. His feet were following where his body was being dragged, but his eyes couldn’t leave the bizarre scene behind. The black dog stood between them and the werewolf and a large deer with an enormous rack of antlers was also there. The two of them together were holding the snarling beast back. 

“…The hell…?” 

He didn’t have much more time to stare in befuddlement, Severus was already pulling him into the tunnel. He held the gun as steadily as he could while being dragged backwards into the darkness, maintaining an aggressive defense until long after they could no longer hear the snarls and growls of the werewolf and the gigantic black dog. 

Chapter Text

“I wasn’t bit by a werewolf, I was bit by a dog.” Dean was already tired of retelling the story. First to Madame Pomfrey, then  again to Professor Sprout. Now Professor McGonogall and Dumbledore himself had come to hear the tale and Dean’s patience was a thing of the past. 

Professor McGonagall, even in her nightgown, looked about as stern as Dean had ever seen her. “You’ll forgive us for pressing upon a point, Mr. Winchester, but I’m certain that of all the students, you in particular must understand the severity and the potential consequences—“

“Yeah, I get it. Believe me, if I’d gotten bit by the werewolf, my dad would be the first in line to put a silver bullet through my heart and I’d be happy to let him. But it wasn’t the werewolf that bit me, it was the gigantic black dog that was hanging out with him.” 

“I fail to understand what a Black Dog would be doing in the company of—“

“No, not a Black Dog!” Dean huffed out an aggrieved sigh. “Just a big… black… just a regular dog that happened to be black.”

McGonagall pursed her lips, eyebrows raised in challenge. “Mr. Winchester. We can all appreciate that you’ve had an unusually exciting night, but that is no excuse to interrupt. Five points from Hufflepuff.” 

“Son of a b--”

“And another five points for swearing.”

“Biscuit. I was gonna say ‘son of a biscuit.’” 

“Then it will be five points for lying, Mr. Winchester. It astounds me that after five years in my classroom, you think I don’t know you better than that.” 

Dean dropped his head back on the pillow, frustration coiling inside him and burning until even his skin felt hot. "Look, the dog doesn't matter." His heart thudded jerkily at the memory of the thing's teeth tearing into his still throbbing arm, but it didn't matter. "I can show you the tunnel under the tree. We can track down the werewolf and take care of it before it has a chance to recover and disappear."

Professor Dumbledore spoke then, "The werewolf will, in fact, be taken care of, Mr. Winchester, however not in the manner that you are suggesting."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Do you remember the conversation we had in your first year, the very first night you spent at Hogwarts?" 

Dean chewed his lip. "The one about hunting on school grounds?"

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "That very one. I'm going to expand that restriction now to include the Shrieking Shack and the forest." 

Dean could feel the ball of frustration in his gut spike out to stab at the inside of his skin with pins and needles. "You don't… you don't want me to hunt the werewolf?" 

Professor Dumbledore looked at him over the half-moon glasses on his nose, a gentle smile at odds with the steel-laden will behind his hard blue eyes.

Dean struggled to sit up. "Wait a minute, you don't want ANYONE to hunt the werewolf?" Dean looked back and forth between McGonagall and Dumbledore, struggling to understand. "There's a legitimately dangerous creature literally a stone's throw away from a school full of children and you're going to just… what? Let it go on its merry way?"

McGonagall's face grew even more pinched. "The safety of the school is the responsibility of the faculty and the board of directors. The last I checked, Mr. Winchester, you were a member of neither."

"But I AM a prefect and the last I checked, the safety and well-being of the younger members of the houses IS the responsibility of the prefects."

“Yes, but only until such a time as a member of the faculty can intercede and assume control of the situation."

"Dean." Dumbledore interrupted, evidently foreseeing the circular possibilities of the argument. "The crux of the matter is this: the werewolf that resides in the shrieking shack is a special case. The faculty is aware of its existence and we feel that it poses no great threat to the students."

"No threat? It attacked—"

"Two students who were not only capable of handling themselves in the situation they found themselves in, but who were also out of their dormitories past curfew, venturing beyond the school boundaries, and trespassing on private property if I'm not mistaken." He gave Dean a hard look and Dean swallowed under the scrutiny. "May I present a hypothetical? If we were to set aside, for a moment, your role here as a student and give you free reign to act without fear of breaking rules or losing house points… would you hunt the ghosts in the castle?"

Dean frowned. "Not…" he hesitated. His father would tell him that all ghosts should be put to rest if possible. Even a ghost that started out with peaceful intentions, the longer it held onto the world, the more likely it would turn vengeful and start killing. But the ghosts at Hogwarts were centuries old. And there was no way he could imagine Professor Binns caring enough about present events to ever bother going vengeful. Or the Fat Friar. The Fat Friar was just nice. Far too nice to hunt. 

Dean dropped his eyes. "No. Not if they didn't harm somebody else first."

"And the centaurs in the forest?"

He suspected he knew where the headmaster was going with this string of questions. His hands curled into fists. "Again, not if they kept to themselves and didn't hurt a human first."

"What if I told you that the werewolf you are so eager to have us destroy had never willingly hurt a soul in his life?"

"That's the point!" Dean looked up and met Dumbledore's gaze. "That's why werewolves are different. They're not rational, they're monsters. All they care about is chomping down on human hearts. It even says so in our textbook! Even if this guy has the best of intentions ninety percent of the time, that other ten percent is when people get killed. And I can't risk that happening to any of the kids that I'm responsible for, not if I can prevent it by hunting down a monster."

Dean thought that he'd made a reasonable argument but Dumbledore's shoulders drooped in a disappointed sigh. "I had hoped that you would have learned to be more understanding in your time here, Mr. Winchester. I'm very sorry that I have to do this."

Power rushed through Dean and his extremities tingled uncomfortably before the spell sank into his bones. 

"Wh-what… what did you just do?"

"I've cast a geas upon you." 

Dean felt himself begin to shake. "You cursed me?"

"No, simply enforced a compulsion. You will not be able to seek out and hunt the werewolf that you encountered tonight, nor will you be able to speak of it to anybody that doesn't already know the secret."

Dean swallowed, his throat thick and dry. His eyes stung and he blinked several times to try to get them to focus correctly. He didn't know what to say or how to react. He didn't know how to feel or what to do. He curled his hands into fists, yelping at the sudden throbbing pain in his injured arm. He stared at the bandages, suddenly bewildered at the injury he'd entirely forgotten about. 

Madame Pomfrey returned from her office. "Mr. Winchester?" She looked hard at Dean and then at the professors. "Really, Albus? A geas? If I had known you were going to interrogate the poor boy and traumatize him further, I wouldn’t have left you alone with him. Shame on you.” 

Madame Pomfrey brushed past them to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle and a goblet. “And you, too, Minerva. I half expect this sort of thing from certain people, but I would have thought better of you.”  

Dean was startled when she pressed a cup into his uninjured hand and he blinked up at her. The beverage inside was warm enough that he could feel how cold his fingers had gotten. "Wha—?"

"You should drink that, Mr. Winchester. It will help you feel better." Dean stared down at the liquid, unable to make his muscles move to lift the cup. He flinched when Pomfrey patted him on the shoulder. "Well, go on then, drink up." 

At her urging, he was able to bring the cup to his mouth and he drank. Rich, warm chocolate slid down his tongue, followed by the heat of pepper. It startled him when the cup was empty. The drink hadn't been thirst quenching, but something in him had craved it like a glass of water on a hot day. 

Dean blinked open his eyes, not even sure when he'd closed them, only to find that Madame Pomfrey had moved on and Professors Dumbledore and McGonogall had left the room. Dean tried to sit up, but his equilibrium seemed off and he only ended up laying back down again. It was funny that he was having the same problem with his eyelids. 

#

Dean woke up feeling physically better, but exhausted and uneasy. 

He’d dreamed several times over of the black dog and white teeth that had torn through his arm like it was made of paper. Except in his dream, the dog had gone for his throat next and he hadn’t been able to stop it. He hadn’t been able to wake up, either. At the part where a normal dream would cut off with him screaming himself awake, the dog dream just started back over from the beginning. 

Madame Pomfrey’s potion was a wonder for keeping a person asleep, but he wished he’d gotten the dreamless variety. 

“Dean?”

Dean’s whole body twitched in surprise, but it was only Sam. He tried to smile. “Hey, bitch-face. Shouldn’t you be in class?”

Sam shrugged, setting his bag at the foot of the bed. “Well, I would be if some jerk hadn’t wound up in the hospital wing.” His smile fell. “What happened to you man?” 

“I was…” His voice seized up even though his lips continued to move. He stopped and blinked. “I was…” Again, he couldn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t know whether to be pissed off or horribly depressed. 

“Dean?”

He growled, pressing his closed fists to his eyes hard enough to make himself see flashing colors behind his eyelids. He was tempted to just shut his mouth. If his own teachers didn’t want him to speak, well he could show them just how long he could go without speaking. He hadn’t spoken for ages after their mom had died. He didn’t know how long it had taken him to start speaking, but he was just stubborn enough to break whatever his record was. 

“Hey, you need me to get you some water?”

Dean opened his eyes again to see Sam staring at him, wide-eyed with concern. He sighed. 

“No, I don’t need water. I need to have this—” His words choked off again, this time with coughs and sputters. It seemed he wouldn’t even be allowed to talk about the spell Dumbledore had cast on him. He had to get the words out. He had to warn Sammy of the danger. He gritted his teeth in frustration.

“Hey. Sammy.”

Sam leaned forward. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, do you remember that one town we went to back in July? That really funky town?”

Dean grinned when he saw the understanding dawn on Sam’s face when he used their code word. Sam knew something was up and it wouldn’t take him long to put the details together. 

“The one where Dad…?”

“Yeah. Last night kinda reminded me of that.”

Sam’s face drained of color. “You mean… Were you bit?”

“What? No!” Dean frowned down at his arm. “I mean, well, yeah, obviously, but not by the—“ His throat seized up again and he coughed. “Dammit.” 

His head thudded back on the pillow. “I was bit by a dog. Just a regular, everyday…” The memory of the flashing white teeth that could have easily ripped through his throat as well as his arm made his skin break out into gooseflesh. “Just a dog. Look, I can’t talk about it, but just… just tell everyone to be careful, okay?”

"Sure, Dean." Sam nodded, but the worried look didn’t go away. If anything, it intensified. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. I’m fine. Madame Pomfrey fixed me up and everything’s fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Yeah, well, your face doesn’t seem fine.”

That earned an eye roll. “Dean.”

“Just drop it, Sammy, okay? I’ll be out of here tonight. Tomorrow at the latest.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Okay, jerk.”

Dean reached over to ruffle his hair. “Get back to your dungeon, bitch.”   

After Sam had gone, Dean lay in bed a long time thinking about white teeth in a black shadow. 

Chapter Text

Dean paced back and forth in the Hufflepuff common room. The younger Puffs had gone to bed and the older ones had vacated when he’d told them he needed to make a call. His arm was completely healed, but he still rubbed it absently while he paced. 

It was only his first day out of the hospital wing and the Marauders had avoided him. Truth be told, it only made him more paranoid. He was so jumpy in Herbology that Madame Pomfrey had asked if he’d gotten into the nettles on the way in. Now he paced back and forth while he thought of what to do.

The floo roared to life and Dean’s shoulders dropped, releasing a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto.

Bobby Singer’s face, even distorted as it was by flames and embers, was the most welcome sight that Dean had seen in ages, but especially in the days since the Shrieking Shack incident.

“Hey, Dean. It’s damned good to see you, boy.”

Dean relaxed into a cross-legged seat in front of the fire. “Yeah, you too, Bobby.”

“You wanna tell me why Sam’s up in arms about a werewolf attack?”

Dean grinned. “He figured it out, huh?”

“Course he figured it out. He’s Sam.”

Dean felt a swell of pride. “He’s a smart kid.”

Bobby scowled. “He also said that you wouldn’t talk about it, that somebody was listening in. You aren’t in trouble, are you?”

“Not the kind of trouble you’re thinking. It’s just… Dumbledore cast a…” This time Dean stopped talking before he started choking.

Bobby’s face shifted in the flames. “He cast a geas on you?”

“Yeah, you know anything about them?” 

“Of course, I know about them, you idgit. I cover them in my defense class.”

“Do you know how to remove one?”

Bobby sighed. “One that was cast by a wizard like Dumbledore? I don't suppose you tried asking him nicely?”

Dean picked at his nail. “You know, sometimes I wish Sam and I were at Ilvermorny with you.”

“You know damned well that nothing short of an ocean would keep John Winchester from yanking you boys out of class as soon as the whim struck him.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. But we’re hunters, we’re supposed—“

“No, you’re wizards. Getting an education, learning to use your power, that’s more important than whatever fool notion—“

“Saving people is important, too.”

“Of course it is, but so's keeping your fool self alive so you can go on saving those other people, don'tcha think?" 

Dean couldn't think of what to say to that. Bobby continued in a softer tone, "I suspect we could go round and round a bit about the intricacies of not throwing yourself bodily on the altar of self-sacrifice, but I got the feeling you wanted to talk to me about something specific.”

“Uncle Bobby…” Bobby was silent and Dean fidgeted, trying to figure out how best to word his question. “If I DID go to Ilvermorny with you... and if there was a monster at the school... would you let me hunt it?”

“You mean a monster like a werewolf?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell no.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re a fifteen-year-old boy, that’s why.”

Dean bristled. “I can handle myself.” 

“Of course, you can. That don’t mean I’d let you go endangering yourself out of nothing more than a crazy sense of duty. Last I checked, there were some adults out there -- some of them your teachers, even, if you would believe it -- who knew a thing or two about magic AND keeping their students safe. It don’t always have to be a Winchester or nobody.”

“But, Bobby—“

“But nothing, boy. It ever occur to you that maybe some folks might be a bit broken up if you got yourself killed?”

Dean was silent; this was the second time in as many minutes that he didn’t know what to say.

Bobby shook his head. “Well, I know it's a hard concept for you, so just think on that for a bit. In the meantime, you’d better get yourself to bed. I know it’s late over there.”

“Yeah. Hey, Bobby?”

“What?”

“Thanks. You know. For everything.”

Bobby frowned. Or maybe he smiled. It was hard to tell sometimes.

“Take care of yourself, idgit.”

The flames flickered and died down leaving Dean cold and alone in the Hufflepuff common room.

#

Dean dropped his books on the library table before sliding onto the bench. “Is it Friday yet?”

Severus didn’t even look up from his book, his voice distracted, “It’s Tuesday. It won’t be Friday for another three days.”

“Dammit.” Dean buried his face in his arms. “I want it to be Friday.”

“Why? Having a rough day, Winchester?”

“Those damned Gryffindors aren’t doing anything. It’s weirding me out.”

Now Severus did look up, frowning quietly for a moment. “They haven’t bothered me, either. Maybe it’s because they’re afraid of what we might have to say.”

Sam slid onto the bench next to Severus. “About the werewolf?”

Severus narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You told him? How? I haven't been able to get a word out since...”

Dean grinned, “Nah. I didn't have to tell him; he figured it out. He’s a smart little guy.”

“I’m not little. I’m actually pretty tall for my age.” 

“You’re littler than me. That’s all that matters.”

Severus closed his book, folded his hands together, and leaned forward. “You told him about the werewolf, subverting a powerful piece of compulsion magic placed on us by an equally powerful wizard. How?”

“I didn’t tell him—“

“Dean told me that it reminded him of a hunt we went on with our dad. I kinda put two and two together.” 

“That’s cause he’s smart,” Dean said. “Coulda been a Ravenclaw.”

Cas sat down next to Dean. “That’s an odd thing for a Hufflepuff to say, Dean. Wouldn't that be like Severus saying I would make a good Gryffindor?”

“A Gryffindor? A nerdy little guy like you? I just can’t see it.” 

“You don’t think I’m brave?”

“It’s not that you’re not brave, Cas, but charging boldly into battle against long odds? You?” 

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I would if the situation called for it.” 

Dean wanted to argue, to say that if he had his way the situation would never call for it, but something about Cas’ earnest expression stilled the words in his mouth. “I believe you, buddy. Just stop with the death eyes, okay?”

Cas nodded and began pulling books out of his bag.

Dean drummed his fingers. “Why wouldn’t Sam be a good Ravenclaw, though? He’s smart. He likes that geeky, nerdy trivia.”

Severus scoffed. “You’re not honestly trying to say that Slytherins aren’t smart, are you?”

“Not at all. I just thought Slytherins were mostly ambitious. You know, politician types or something.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Do I seem like a politician do you?” 

“Well, no, but you aren’t like THOSE Slytherins. You’re OUR Slytherin.” 

“I’m a prefect. I’m the quintessential Slytherin. Sam is a perfectly acceptable Slytherin as well, I’ll have you know. And he doesn’t need to be a political activist to be one.”

“Fair point.” 

Sam grumbled, “Sam also doesn’t need people to talk about him as if he isn’t here.”

Dean grinned. “Shut up and listen to your elders, short stuff.”

“I am not short.” 

“Whatever, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Dean grinned and pulled out his own books. “Hey, Cas. Mind if I copy your—“

“No.”

“No, you don’t mind? Or, no…”

“No, you may not. You’re smart enough to do your own homework, Dean, whatever it is.”

“I was going to say copy your notes from Defense since I missed the lecture yesterday.”

Cas looked away, blushing to the tips of his ears. “Oh… Well… Why were you gone yesterday? You never said.”

It was Dean’s turn to look away. “It was nothing. Just… in the hospital wing, you know?”

Cas tilted his head, eyes instantly widening in concern. “The hospital wing? Are you well? You don’t seem to be injured.” 

“I’m fine, Cas.” The lie in his throat was just as choking as the truth he couldn’t say. “Perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about. Got bit by a dog. No big deal.” 

“How did you get bit by a dog? There aren’t any dogs on the school grounds.”

Dean grimaced and tapped the table with his clenched fist. “I can’t tell you, Cas.”

Cas looked from Severus to Sam and back to Dean. Between Dean who couldn’t tell the truth even if lives depended on it, Sam who had no poker face to speak of, and Severus who also couldn't tell but took it a step further and closed off when he didn’t want to talk, there was no way that Cas couldn’t pick up on the fact he was being kept in the dark. 

He narrowed his eyes, clearly unhappy about the situation. Dean’s stomach twisted at both the expression and Cas' quiet acknowledgment, “I see.”

“Look, Cas, it isn’t like that, I just can’t—“

“Winchester!”

The Gryffindors were coming. Two of them, anyway. Dean growled. He’d just have to find a way to explain later. Black and Pettigrew were the last people on Earth he wanted to talk to, but the sooner he dealt with them, the sooner they would go away. That was Dean’s hope anyway. 

“What do you want Black?”

Black folded his arms in front of his chest. “I want you to swear to keep your mouth shut.”

Dean could feel the muscles in his chest tightening. His urge to rage and scream and punch and FIGHT boiling inside him. He fought so hard to keep it contained that his lungs ached with it. Hell, he'd never had a heart attack before, but if he had to describe one, he would say the physical pain of holding himself back from reaching across the table and giving Black a black eye had to be pretty close to it.

“Pretty sure I'd rather spend a few decades in hell than give you the satisfaction. I ain't swearing to shit, least of all not to you or your little fungus there.”

Black grinned, pulling back from his aggressive stance and relaxing into something Dean could only describe as joyfully menacing. “You will if you don't want me to start running my mouth about things you'd rather I kept quiet about.”

Dean rolled his eyes and looked around the table. Severus' wand hand was out of sight, below the table, his other fist clenched so hard his knuckles were white from the strain. Sam's face was blank, but Dean could tell the wheels were turning behind those puppy eyes of his. Cas had tilted his head, bird-like, the way he did when he was trying to solve a puzzle that he didn't have all the pieces to. 

“Alright, Black, I'll bite. What the hell are you talking about?”

“You've got a pretty good reputation here, Winchester. Fragile, though, aren't they? Reputations? A lifetime to build and one wrong word to ruin it forever. So, I want you to swear to a truce. You promise not to ruin a reputation that I care about, and I won't ruin yours.”

“Barking up the wrong tree, Black. I couldn't care less about my reputation.”

“Oh yeah? And what about little Sammy's here?”

Dean's mouth went dry. “What?”

“A word here, a word there... It wouldn't be hard to have the whole school convinced that a Slytherin like widdle Sammy was dabbling in dark magic. Or how about Snivvelus? Sure, he's got no reputation to speak of among DECENT wizards, true, but how will those Dark Lord lackeys in the dungeon react when they find out he's such a Muggle lover, huh? Could be dangerous, don't you think? For him and your little brother, come to think of it.”

“You leave my brother out of this.”

“Sure. As long as you swear to keep your own trap shut. Make an unbreakable vow to me and I'll promise to keep my mouth shut, too.”

“That's rich. A promise from you isn't worth the paper it's written on.”

“Oh, I'll keep my word on this one, Winchester. I guarantee it.”

Dean's hands balled into fists, anger and frustration robbing him of his voice just as easily as Dumbledore's spell had.

It was Severus who broke the silence. “As if the Slytherins you speak of would bother listening to a disgraced little reject like yourself, Sirius, FORMERLY of the ancient house of Black.” Black's eyes went wide and his lips tightened into a thin line. Severus sneered and tilted his head in the way that allowed him to stare sideways down his long nose. “It was all Regulus would talk about at the start of the year, how you'd been thrown out on your illustrious arse. He was quite giddy about it.”

“Shut up, shut up! Shut your FILTHY mouth!” Sirius lunged at Severus across the table and Dean reacted, grabbing the Gryffindor by his school tie and dragging him the rest of the way over the table and down onto the floor. His wand was pointed at Black's wide blinking eyes before the other boy even had a chance to react.

Dean glanced up just long enough to take in the situation. Severus, Sam, and Cas had all taken their wands out. Pettigrew had his out as well, but was holding it weakly in front of him, uncertain about what to do with it. 

Students from the nearby study tables were all craning their heads to see what the commotion was and Dean could make out urgent whispers of, “Madam Pince! Hush up! Madam Pince is coming!” 

All of them exchanged glances and quickly put their wands away. Dean snarled and pulled Black to his feet. The boy was white as a sheet and practically shaking with rage. Dean knew how he felt. 

Before another word could be exchanged, the librarian had swooped into view like a vulture searching for a carcass. “What's all this then? I'll not tolerate disruptions in the library.”

Sam spoke up, “There was no disruption, Madame Pince. Mr. Black tripped on Mr. Snape's robe and Dean was just helping him up.” 

Madame Pince's face softened for a moment into what Dean would almost call a fond expression as she listened to Sam before hardening back into the scary countenance of a vengeful harpy that he was more used to seeing. 

“Well? Is that true?”

Dean nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Just helping him up is all.” Just for good measure, he straightened Black's tie and brushed invisible dust from his shoulders. 

Madame Pince didn't seem convinced. “Mr. Black?”

Black hesitated only a moment before nodding in a quick, jerky movement.

“Right. Well. See that it doesn't happen again. This is a library, not a schoolyard.” She glared at each of them in turn to impress the point, then turned and stalked back amongst the shelves.

Black's voice was low and angry. “This isn't over, Winchester. We'll settle this with a wizard's duel. You and me.”

“Anytime, Black.”

Black stormed off with Pettigrew trailing behind him. Dean took a breath and let it out slowly. 

Cas spoke for the first time since Black had arrived. “Does somebody want to tell me what that was about?”

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again quickly. Sam and Severus shared a look, but neither seemed willing to volunteer the information. Dean flexed his jaw and dropped his gaze to the table. “I can't tell you, Cas.”

“I see.” He started to gather his things. 

“Cas, don't —”

“Don't what? Don't stay where I'm clearly intruding? You should be free to talk about what you need to talk about that doesn't include me.” 

Cas left and Dean was too drained to follow.

Chapter Text

In all of Dean's years at Hogwarts, he had never wished for the lunch hour to be over as much as he wished for it now. Cas hadn't spoken a word since he'd stormed out of the library the night before. He still sat with them at lunch, but the silence was painful. Both Severus and Sam were buried in a textbook. So, Dean was left to stew in his own uncomfortable thoughts.

Dean stared down at his plate of bangers and mash. Sausages and mashed potatoes, really, but even he had to admit that bangers and mash sounded much cooler than anything Americans had bothered to come up with, so it didn't bother him to call it by its local name. Not as much as the whole chips and crisps and French fries thing bothered him. He shoved his bangers through his mash then drew a smiley face in the potatoes with his fork before destroying it with a small hailstorm of peas. 

He tried not to be bitter about the fact that if Sam had been doing the same sort of things, Dean wouldn't have stopped digging until he had gotten to the bottom of whatever was eating him. Nobody seemed all that concerned that Dean was struggling and that it was always up to him to care, to show concern, to be the protective older brother and to have all the right answers and all the right actions... 

And because he was the older brother, he knew that nothing would get better unless he made the first move.

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey, Cas, mind passing me the salt?”

Cas stood suddenly enough that the bench rocked backward, finally jostling Sam from his textbook. Sam looked up in confusion. “Cas, you okay?”

Cas didn't look at any of them as he awkwardly stumbled over the bench, his low voice little more than an angry growl, “I have to go.” 

Before Dean could say another word, Cas was disappearing in a flurry of black robes that rivaled even Severus for billowy drama. 

Sam's big, dumb, puppy eyes were just as hurt and wounded as the space behind Dean's chest felt. “Dean! What did you say to him?”

“Nothing.”

Sam scoffed, “That didn't look like 'nothing,' Dean. He seemed really upset.”

“Oh, and now it's my fault for every little thing that Cas gets upset about? I didn't say a damn thing to him, Sam.”

Sam flinched backward and Dean's shoulders sagged as the anger rushed out of him to be replaced with regret that he had put that look on his brother's face. But Dean genuinely didn't know how to fix this thing with Cas. 

“Oh, for bloody...” Severus snapped his book shut. “Will you please just go talk to your Ravenclaw? All of this drama is getting to be insufferable.”

“Why does he have to be MY Ravenclaw? He's just as much your friend as he is mine! Hell, he's Sam's friend, too. We're all friends. He's OUR Ravenclaw, he's not just mine.”

Severus said nothing, but arched an eyebrow in clear disapproval.

“Fine!” Dean shoved his plate away from him and stood. He hadn't really been eating any of it anyhow. “Fine. But what the hell am I supposed to say to him? The guy won't speak to me, he won't even look at me! I ask him to pass the salt and he storms off like I insulted his mother!” 

Severus rolled his eyes. “You'll figure it out, Winchester. You're the Hufflepuff, aren't you? You're supposed to be good at that...” Severus fluttered his fingers, nose wrinkling in distaste. “...That FEELINGS stuff.” With that, he opened his textbook, clearly finished with the conversation. 

Sam shrugged and also returned to his book, absolutely no help to Dean at all. Dean grabbed his bag and trotted down the Great Hall toward the door that Cas had hurried through.

Dean ducked around a pair of ghosts and dodged by some second years that weren't watching where they were going. He rounded the corner leading to the hallway that Dean knew Cas took to get to his next class and stopped short. Years of instinct honed by surviving the worst the world could throw at him almost physically pulled him backwards to stay obscured by the stone pillar that marked the beginning of the hall. 

Across the hall, partially hidden by an alcove, Cas was talking with one of the Slytherin students. Her name was Meg Masters and Dean absolutely hated her with a passion. There was something slimy, something predatory about her. Dean didn't have to get an Outstanding in Divination to know she was up to no good; being up to no good came naturally as breathing to her. Dean clenched his jaw as Meg ran a hand up Castiel's vest and slipped a shimmering vial into the pocket of his shirt.

"Just think about what I said, Clarence. Do you really think your precious Deano wouldn't lay you out like a ton of bricks when he finds out the truth? How long do you think you can keep lying to him, huh?"

Cas didn't pull away from her even when she leaned in, head tilted up, invading his space in a way that screamed of far too familiar. 

"What will you do when Winchester finds out you're just not quite as... normal as you've been pretending to be?" She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes, tilting her face up until her lips were inches from his. "Maybe even just a little bit more... mon--"

Cas moved then, grabbing her by the upper arms and forcing her out of his personal space and up against the wall behind her. Meg's grin was joyous, ecstatic at eliciting such a physical and angry response. Cas' voice rumbled with an aroused sort of tension that Dean could feel even from across the hallway. "He's not going to find out from you. Our deal was for your potion AND your silence..."

Somebody bumped into Dean from behind, jostling him. Dean turned his head for only a moment, but it was long enough for Cas and Meg to conclude their business and separate. Meg was swaying away like the cat that got the cream and Cas was striding in the opposite direction. The bell rang and Dean, feeling numb and angry, turned and headed toward the stairs that would take him to his next classroom.

* * *

Dean remained numb through the next two classes, but his numbness had given way to anger, rage, a whole slew of ugly emotions he couldn't name and could barely contain. 

Cas had lied to him. Cas had been lying to him. Cas was continuing to lie to him. Cas had been sneaking around with Meg Masters and lying to Dean. Meg had said he wasn't quite human and was certain that Dean would react badly. That meant Cas must be a monster. The whole school knew that Dean hunted monsters. 

Had Cas become friends with Dean because he was a monster and he thought Dean wouldn't hunt him down if they were friends? Had this whole year, their whole friendship, been nothing but a carefully crafted manipulation? The same sort of manipulation that Meg Masters engaged in on a daily basis? What was the potion she had given him and what secret of his did she know? What was Castiel lying to Dean about?

* * *

By the time Dean had made it to the library, he had fallen into a dark mood fueled by too many questions and too many emotions. Every possible answer he came up with had him angrier than the last and it was all he could do to keep the anger inside.

He dropped his bag on the table and slid into a chair. He was vaguely aware of holding his head in his hands, of his fingers twisting into fists around clumps of hair, of his breath hitching in his throat as the swirling anger tried to claw its way out of his chest and suffocate him with feelings he didn't want or need.

Dean twitched back in his chair when a tiny spark of electricity zapped his nose. "Ow! What the hell...?"

Severus was glaring at him from across the table. "If you're going to have an existential crisis, could you do it in your own dorm where the rest of us don't have to deal with it?"

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and stretched the cramp out of his fingers. He took a deep breath and let it out shrugging his shoulders and shaking it all out.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Snape. I'm totally cool."

"Right." Severus sat down and pulled a notebook out of his bag. "I trust you can remain so without any further intervention?"

Dean could see Sammy entering the library and nodded quickly. "Yeah. Thanks, Sev."

Severus was already reading and taking notes. "Don't mention it." His quill paused mid-word and he glanced up, eyes mostly obscured by his long hair. "Seriously. Don't."

"Sure thing. Hey, Sammy."

Sam heaved his book bag up onto the table. "Did you talk to Cas?"

Dean shook his head, ignoring the squeezing sensation in his chest. "Missed him in the hallway, haven't seen him since lunch."

"Oh." Sam sat down. "Have you given much thought to how you're going to win your duel against Black?"

Dean hadn't. He was saved from having to say so by the arrival at their table by none other than Remus Lupin, looking pale and sickly. The bags under his eyes were deeper and darker than Dean had seen them. He was probably out of the hospital wing a little sooner than he should have been and looked like a stiff breeze could have sent him flying.

Snape narrowed his eye. "You're not wanted here, Lupin."

Sammy looked over and straightened his back, leaning away from Lupin. 

Lupin flinched and swallowed. "I probably deserved that. I just wanted--" 

Snape's nose wrinkled up in a truly ugly sneer. "Go. Away."

"What Sirius did... I had nothing to do with--" 

"I'm not an idiot, Lupin," Snape hissed. "Despite what you and your friends think. You really expect me to believe you had nothing to do with Black trying to murder me?"

Lupin's face paled even further. "Severus, please--"

"No, you don't get to be complicit in an attempted murder and then tell me that it was just a misunderstanding, some bloody fucking joke. People could have died. I could have died that night. Winchester could have died that night. My life..." Severus gestured at Sam and Dean, his jerky and pointed movements causing his robe to flap like a bird. "OUR lives... They're not a fucking joke. Do you understand?"

Lupin raised his chin, the gesture exposing the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallowed whatever words had formed in his defense. His voice was quiet, brittle, "Yes, I understand."

Severus stared at Lupin for a moment, his expression unreadable. Lupin stared back, not retreating an inch more than he already had, but not pressing forward either. Finally, Snape's features softened and his shoulders slumped, the fight evidently leaving him. He turned his eyes down to his book and waved a hand dismissively. "Kindly be off, you're interrupting our homework."

Lupin nodded and backed away from the table. His fingers fluttered a bit, clenching and unclenching, the conflict there for everyone to see. He finally balled them into fists and held them rigidly down by his side as he pivoted and walked away. 

Sam was the first to speak. "Are you okay Severus?"

Severus shook his head. "If we are not going to study, I am going back to the dungeons." 

Sam gave Dean a look and shrugged, then opened his notebook. "Yeah. Sure. studying." 

Dean sighed and grabbed his bag. "Yeah, I think I'll just catch up with you guys later." He was too worked up over Cas to pretend to study and he didn't want to deal with Lupin or think about Black. He wanted nothing more right now than to head down to the kitchens and see if he could find anything resembling an apple pie so he could feed his feelings.

Chapter Text

Dean paced back and forth along the longest platform of the Astronomy Tower. It was one of the rare nights that the platform wasn't used for a nighttime science lab. Not only was it a weekend and nobody had classes, but the clouds had been dumping rain since early that morning and there was literally nothing to see up here except more rain and most of the students were sick of it, himself included.

He and Cas had managed to avoid each other for the rest of the week, so he hadn't had a chance to ask him to be his second, even if he wanted to. And no way was he asking Sammy, for obvious reasons. And he didn't want to ask any of his fellow Hufflepuffs, because this wasn't their fight, this was personal. And he was pretty sure that inviting Severus along would have been throwing gasoline on the flames, because that wasn't JUST personal; it was TOO personal. So, here he was, pacing the platform by himself, waiting for Black to show up. Because he was more than capable of dueling by himself. He was Dean freaking Winchester. He didn't need a second to put Black in his place. And if he thought enough about it, he hadn't really wanted one either, so he was fine, really, up here all by himself... waiting alone...

The sound of a door creaking open and then clunking shut at the bottom of the long flights of stairs caught his attention and Dean looked over the side, pleased to see that it was Black and that spineless twerp Pettigrew, finally making their way up the stairs. 

“Well, well. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Douche made it to the party after all. Nice to see you boys.”

Black bared his teeth in what could have been a grimace, a snarl, or indigestion. Maybe all three. “Stuff yourself, Winchester. Where's your second?”

“I don't need a second fighting my battles for me, thanks." Dean shrugged and shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe, trying to look casual and cool and not at all like the jittery, unbalanced bundle of confused, angry emotions he had been feeling all week. Damn Cas for making everything weird.

"What a shame. I was hopeing Snivellus would be here to step in after I wipe the floor with your face so I could do the same to him." 

"Anyone ever tell you that you think about Snape just a little too much to be normal? You seriously need to get yourself a girlfriend or a hobby or something, because I gotta tell ya, he's just not attracted to you that way--" 

Black snarled and lashed his wand out toward Dean who was already deflecting the red bolt that came shooting at him with a Protego charm. Uncle Bobby had drilled that one into him the first summer he came home from Hogwarts, even though it wasn't even in the curriculum until sixth year. He'd said at the time, "Ya think a ghoul is gonna wait for you to get your wand out before it starts eating your face?" Dean could think of a thousand instances where he might need to protect Sammy and be unable to get to a shotgun or a wand, so Dean had practiced until he could cast Protego as naturally as breathing and his dad had scoffed and sipped a beer and said it would do. 

Another fiery red curse bounced uselessly off the invisible shield. Dean braced for the third one, shoving the energy of his shield out as it hit so not only was the blast deflected, it also reflected straight back at Black and Pettigrew, knocking them both off their feet with the force of it. 

Dean took the opportunity of his opponent and weasily little sidekick flailing through the air to flick his own wand out from the holster at his wrist. He still hadn't decided what spells he should use, but it didn't hurt to be at the ready. Should he pull out all the stops and really go for injuring the other student or would just inflicting a massive amount of pain be enough to put this nonsense to bed? It was hard to say with Black and that wasn't how a wizard's duel was supposed to be conducted. He might just have to stay on the defensive and let Blsck dictate how lethal they wanted to get with this. Dean had faced far scarier fights in real life and death circumstances, so wasn't really concerned about anything that Black might send his way. But still, it would have been nice to know ahead of time.

"Aren't we supposed to talk terms first?" he asked. "Bow to each other? Say 'One, two, three, go' or something?" Dean's fingers twirled his wand impatiently, the adrenaline of the fight making hom fidgety. "Isn't that how these wizard duel things are supposed to work?"

Black scrambled to his feet, his face twisted in a snarl. "Is that what you think this is? A proper wizard's duel? As if I would show that much respect to a... a... to a muddy, uneducated American monster hunter. You're not even a proper wizard, barely more than a muggle."

Black sliced his wand up fast enough that Dean could hear it cut through the wind and a sickly green flame whizzed past his ear. He'd dodged it easily enough, but the hairs on his neck still stood up. Dean smiled, his number 23 'not quite a serial killer but could be convinced to take it up as a hobby' smile. "You're right, Black. I am a monster hunter. When I'm not at school, I'm out hunting and killing monsters because it's my family business and I'm damned good at it. So, if you're not gonna follow the rules, then what did you hope to accomplish? Those rules were the only thing keeping you from a world of hurt."

Black growled, "Not the only thing." His face twisted and lengthened and suddenly it wasn't Black standing there but the gigantic dog that had been living rent free in Dean's nightmares since the night of the attack. The growl was deep and grating and just as awful as Dean remembered it being. 

He tried to step back but his feet were too heavy and his legs too weak. Blood roared in his ears, he couldn't breathe. The black dog stepped toward him and Dean fell backwards, the pain and the fear of teeth ripping through his arm as fresh in his memory as the moment it happened. His heart was pounding and he clutched his wand, but couldn't think of a single spell to save his life.

The dog crouched. Dean wondered if it would grab him by the throat this time. He wondered if Pettigrew was still around and would chase Black away when he'd been mauled sufficiently or if he was going to die tonight because he was frozen and couldn't move and couldn't think, could only watch in terrified horror as the muscular legs crouched and the dog leaped. He couldn't even close his eyes to hide from the horrible teeth flying straight towards his face.

An explosion like thunder knocked the air from Dean's lungs and fire streaked across the length of the platform, slamming into the dog's side and knocking him sideways. 

Dean's heart continued to hammer like it was going to burst any second, but the shock of what happened had at least caused his chest to spasm and he sucked in a dry gulp of air. 

He still couldn't move, his gaze still locked on the nightmare forcing itself up onto its feet. It snarled as it reached a standing position, but another two fireballs slammed into it again and sent it tumbling. This time it wasn't the black dog, but Black himself who stood up, his arms cradling his ribs, his robe and hair smoldering and smoking as if they'd been touched by fire.  

Dean wasn't hyperventilating, he was just breathing heavy. Heavy breathing that he couldn't slow down. Or control. God, he was a mess. A shaky, gasping, hyperventilating mess.

Castiel stepped forward from behind him, planting himself firmly between Dean and Black. Pettigrew was still hiding in the shadows by the far stairwell, but he didn't seem to be a threat. Black continued to glare, but he seemed to have acknowledged that he was in no shape to continue. 

Cas' voice was harder than gravel, "Go back to your dorm. Twenty points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew." 

"Oh, look, Winchester. It's your boyfriend here to save you." Black spat on the floor. "Where's the rest of the harem?"

Anger twinged in Dean's chest. It was just enough to start shaking the terror loose. "You better not be talking about my brother, asshole."

Black shifted his sneer from Cas to Dean. "Don't think this is over." He winced when he turned and walked slowly and painfully across the platform and down the stairs to the door. Pettigrew glared at Cas for a moment before turning his eyes to Dean and when they met, Dean could feel the hairs on his neck standing up again; the little rat seemed to have more hate in him than Dean would have given him credit for. 

The moment passed and Pettigrew followed Black in a huff. Cas stood as still as a statue, watching until Black and Pettigrew disappeared. Dean couldn't seem to stop  himself from watching Cas and his protective determination expression, like one of those avenging angels in famous paintings, face and body full of divine malice for those who would dare harm the charges they were protecting. It was... well. It was really stupidly sexy, is what it was.

"Hi, Cas." Dean hated how thin and shaky his voice sounded.

"Hello, Dean." 

"What, uh..." Dean grit his teeth and forced himself to stand, ignoring Cas' outstretched hand and the offer to help. "What are you doing here?"

Cas blinked and looked away for a moment. "Sam told me you were meeting Black tonight. I was there when he challenged you, so I can understand why you allowed him to goad you into agreeing to duel," Cas turned the full intensity of his disapproval stare on Dean, "But what possessed you to show up alone?"

Dean nearly choked on his tongue. "What possessed me? What POSSESSED me? I dunno, maybe if you'd bothered to speak to me this week instead of giving me the cold shoulder, I might have asked you."

"I wasn't giving you the cold shoulder, I was giving you space since you clearly didn't trust me with whatever misadventure injured you enough to send you to the hospital wing."

"Dammit, Cas, I'm not trying to keep it secret, I just can't--" Dean's throat spasmed and he broke off in a fit of coughs. Frustrated and angry, he growled, "Besides, it's not like you don't have secrets of your own. Or do you want to tell me why you're sneaking around with Meg Masters?" 

Cas flinched, his eyes widening in surprise before narrowing. "You were spying on me?"

Dean snapped, "Of course I wasn't spying on you!" He ran a hand through his hair and tugged at his robe. "But, come on, man. If you're gonna let her throw herself all over you in the hallway in front of everyone, it's hard not to get an eyeful even when you aren't looking for one."

Castiel hunched his shoulders. "I did not let her 'throw herself' on me." The air quotes he used did nothing to make him any less attractive, damn him. 

"No? Well, then maybe you wanna tell me about that potion she slipped you? Or about those fireballs you shot off? I know for a fact there's nothing even close to that sort of firepower in our Defense textbook."

"If you must know, you're not the only one who is capable of extracurricular study."

Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And the shady potion hand off with the school's shadiest Slytherin?" 

Cas shook his head. "Meg is hardly the shadiest Slytherin. Bellatrix Black, Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange..."

"Fine, fine, okay, you don't need to give me a freaking roll call. What about the potion? You can't tell me it was just cough syrup she was groping into your vest pocket."

Cas' jaw flexed and his hands curled into fists at his side. "The potion is none of your concern, Dean."

Dean couldn't have been more stunned if Cas had slapped him in the face. "Alright. That's how you want to play it? Fine. Keep your secrets, I couldn't care less."

"That's rich, considering who started keeping secrets first." Cas turned, his cloak fluttering dramatically as he strode toward the stairs at the end of the platform.

Dean hated this; he hated arguing, he hated having to keep something important and terrifying and traumatizing from his best friend, and he hated the look on Cas' face.

"Cas. Cas! Wait!"

Cas stopped, but didn't turn to look at Dean. Dean trotted forward to catch up, stopping just an arm length away. If he wanted to, he could have touched him, tapped him on the arm or shoulder, but somehow he felt he didn't deserve the liberty right now, so he tentatively grasped at Cas' sleeve and tugged, just barely enough to convey a request that he turn around.

Cas didn't move for several seconds and Dean held his breath. Finally, Cas turned to look at him, arms crossed defensively. "What?"

"I can't tell you everything."

Cas rolled his eyes and began to turn again, but Dean grabbed his robe sleeve in a firmer grip, clutched it in his fist and didn't let him pull away.

"I can't, but I WANT to, but I CAN'T because Dumbledore and I just physically CAN'T, Cas, please..." Dean was spiraling into an abyss of emotions, panicky and fearful of where the hell he was going to land because he hated not being in control of himself, not being grounded. He hated being AFRAID.

"Dean."

That one word in that voice was enough to stop the spiral and Dean looked up into concerned, blue eyes.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Dean laughed. Or sobbed. Or choked on tears he hadn't realized he was crying. Maybe all three. "Okay? No, I'm not okay. I can't talk to my best friend about the most awful thing that's ever happened to me and he hates me for it, of course I'm not okay."

"I don't hate you, Dean."

Dean looked down at the floor. "That's good to know, I guess. But I still can't tell you about what happened. And I'm guessing you still won't tell me about that potion."

Cas shook his head slowly. "No. I can't Dean."

Dean nodded, then ran a hand over his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I get it."

"If you knew... if you knew what I needed it for, you would hate ME. And I'd like to go on pretending we can be friends. Just for a little bit longer. If that's okay."

Dean took a shaky breath. "Yeah. We can go on pretending for a bit longer." He was on the verge of crying again and he didn't know why. "Just tell me one thing? Is it dangerous? To... to you or anyone else?"

"It's not the sort of potion that should put anyone else at risk."

"And yourself? Is it putting you at risk?"

"It shouldn't? At least not too much, that is..." Cas shrugged. "It's a calculated risk, but the benefit... well, it's worth it to me. If it works. I hope."

"Not filling me with a lot of confidence here, Cas."

"I know what I'm doing, Dean. I wish you could trust that at least, even if you can't trust me."

Dean swallowed hard. The lump of words he wanted to say and emotions he wanted to express stuck in his throat and threatened to choke him. "I wish I could, too."

Cas nodded and looked away. "It's late. Prefects should be done with their rounds by now. We should get back to our dorms. Goodnight, Dean."

"Night, Cas. See you at lunch tomorrow?"

Cas nodded and pulled away, Dean relaxed his grip and allowed Cas' sleeve to slip free from his fingers. Dean watched him go before taking the other stairwell and beginning the long, long journey down to the Hufflpuff common room.

Chapter Text

Dean had thoughts. He almost always had thoughts, but these ones had kept him up most of the night. He couldn't wait for the others to make it to the lunch table and his foot wouldn't stop bouncing up and down. He was like a rabbit thumping the ground for... well, for whatever reason rabbits did that sort of thing.

Severus pulled up short, not used to the Hufflepuff beating him to the Slytherin table. But then, Dean usually didn't run through the halls like a caffeinated squirrel to get to the Great Hall either.

"Alright, Winchester?" he asked, head tilted downward only slightly in the way it did when he knew something was unusual but not certain if it was worrisome. 

"What changes people into animals?"

Severus blinked. "Umm."

Sam set his bag down and Cas wasn't too far behind him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean with magic. Not like a skinwalker or anything. And not with hunter magic, but like wizard magic. How would a wizard turn themselves into an animal?"

Severus and Cas exchanged puzzled head tilts, having some sort of silent communication that Dean still hadn't figured out.

Sam shook his head. "You got me. Skinwalkers are the only things I can think of, but all I know is what I overheard. Uncle Bobby was talking to another hunter about them a couple summers ago, I think. 

Cas looked at Dean, "What's a skinwalker?"

"They're sort of a North American version of your... well, I don't really know what your version is. And there's a couple different versions of ours, too, but that's not..." Dean shrugged. "Anyway. They're kind of like werewolves, only harder to hunt cause they live in packs and can change whenever the mood strikes them, not jusy when the moon tellem'em to. And when they do change, you can't tell them apart from any other dog in the pound. But they're pretty much werewolves, aside from that. They eat hearts and you kill them with silver."

Cas blinked. "Oh."

Dean could see the moment the lightbulb went off for Sammy. "Oh! You think the dog was a skinwalker?"

"No; it bit me pretty good and I'm not infected or anything; so it's definitely not a skinwalker. But if there's a wizard version? Some way for a wizard to turn themselves into a dog?" 

Dean turned to look at Cas. "You saw him, right? You saw Black turn into a dog. Or at least you saw the dog turn back into Sirius Black. Black was the dog that bit me that night and I want to figure out how he did it."

Cas stared at Dean like the act of staring was going out of style and he wanted one more hurrah before it went. Dean met his eyes and pleaded with him to understand the whole truth, even if he couldn't tell him. Finally Cas swallowed. "I see. Is that everything?" 

"No. But it's the only part I can tell you about."

Cas frowned and turned his gaze toward Severus, who was paler than usual, his dark eyes intense with turmoiled thoughts. Dean suddenly remembered that Severus would have just as much trauma from that night as Dean did and even more reason to hate Black for his part in it. Dean reached across the table and tapped Severus' white knuckled fist very lightly with his fingertips. "Hey."

Severus flinched so hard, the bench nearly rocked backward and spilled both him and Sam to the floor. Severus met Dean's eyes and Dean held the look for a few moments while Severus came back from whatever memory or feeling he was locked in. Soon enough, he took a breath and the tightness around his eyes relaxed. Dean raised his eyebrows. "Alright?"

Severus nodded. "Perfectly fine, Winchester."

"Good. Just checking."

Severus huffed a quiet, mirthless laugh. "It does explain some things, though, doesn't it? If Black can change himself to a dog and back..." 

Severus looked at Cas and they did that thought osmosis thing again. It was Cas who said, "An animagus could do that. It's a tricky spell to master, though."

Severus continued, "And they'd have to be registered with the Ministry. There's a lot of paperwork and regulations around it.  Although I doubt Black would have gone to such trouble as registering himself with the Ministry, so the next time he tries to kill me, I can use that as leverage, at least. The laws against unregistered animagi are rather severe, I understand. They don't want witches and wizards to be able to commit high crimes and then disappear into the wild as a cat or whatever else."

Dean nodded. "So, an animagus isn't stuck to just one form. Good to know."

Cas tilted his head. "Actually... Huh. You know, I'm not quite sure how that part works."

A new voice spoke from behind Dean. "Once you cast the charm, you are stuck to the one form. But the form can be anything, really."

Dean turned to see Lupin standing behind him. Lupin fidgeted a bit under the scrutiny of Dean, Cas, Sam, and Severus who all stared at him quietly. 

Lupin coughed and looked down at his shoes. "You're right, though, it is a tricky spell to master. But I know how it's done. If you're interested, I can help walk you through the more complicated parts."

Severus drummed his fingers on the table. "And why would you do that, Lupin?" 

"Because what Sirius did was wrong. And I know that you don't feel safe. I can't change what Sirius did and I can't seem to get him to stop. And I don't know how to make any of this right again." Lupin looked at Dean with tired, haunted eyes, and Dean knew that he was remembering what they'd spoken about in the corridor so long ago. 

Lupin huffed out a breath that he had been holding. "I don't understand how he could have... Jinxes and curses in the hallways are one thing. They're unpleasant, but you've never... and maybe I've just let him convince me for so long -- TOO long --  that there's no harm, when clearly there IS. But there's a line between that and... and... and dammit all, he bloody crossed it, didn't he? You could have been killed and Sirius thinks it was just a joke and he's just... wrong. I can see that now." 

Lupin swallowed, then forced his chin up so that he could look Severus in the eyes. "There's a lot that I can't fix, so much that I wouldn't even know where to start... But maybe I can help you feel safe again? And maybe that's enough of a start on its own."

It was the closest the Gryffindor had ever come to outright condemning his friends. Dean was inclined to give him a chance. But he rather felt this should be Severus' decision, so he shrugged and faced the Slytherin to see what he would do.

Severus, of course, was more unreadable than ever. Dean would have had more success at determining the underlying emotion of the stone wall behind him. What was it with him and picking friends that were champions of the staring contest? Between Severus and Cas, if staring was a sport, they'd both be record holding champions and the world would clamor to see them compete against each other. 

Finally, FINALLY, Severus spoke.  "Alright, Lupin. What do you suggest?"

Lupin allowed himself to breathe for what seemed like the first time in several minutes. His shoulders dropped a bit as the tension left him. "Well...it's a bit of a long process and there's quite a complicated potion involved. We used the Undercroft beneath the Dark Arts tower to brew it in private and keep it safe for however many months."

"Months?" Dean squeaked. "It took you MONTHS?"

"Years, actually. We've been trying to puzzle it out since third year, and it wasn't until... Well. It takes a couple months to get the potion brewed right, and if you miss a step or make a mistake, you have to start over from the beginning. But now I know how it's done, you should be able to get it right on the first try. Maybe the second. I guess we'll see. But you really should have some place to keep the potion where it won't be disturbed."

Dean nodded. "Hard to manage that in any of the dorms. If nobody else has any ideas...?" The two Slytherins and the Ravenclaw shook their heads, so Dean continued, "Then I'd say our best bet is the kitchen."

Severus blinked. "Say again?"

"The kitchen."

Sam frowned, "The castle has a kitchen?"

Dean scoffed. "Of course it has a kitchen. Where do you think all the food comes from? It doesn't just magically appear out of thin air."

"But... it kind of does, Dean."

Dean frowned at Sammy. "Shut up."

Severus asked, "Don't people work in the kitchen? How is that any more private than the middle of the Great Hall?"

"The house elves do. But they're pretty great if you ask them nicely for things." At Severus' skeptical look, Dean shrugged. "When I first got here, I had to find out who to pester for American food. Because you people are psychopaths when it comes to breakfast."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask why you think so?"

"You will never convince me that A," Dean held up a finger for each point that he made, "black pudding is a real breakfast food, that B, tomatoes and beans are an appropriate breakfast food, and that C, British cereal tastes even remotely the same as our American cereal. I was freaking desperate by the end of the first week."

Sam explained to Severus, "Our dad left us alone a lot and cereal is the only thing Dean has ever 'cooked' us for breakfast in the entire eleven years I've known him."

Cas frowned, but before he could say what was on his mind about Dean's breakfast preferences, Dean cut in, "ANYWAYS, I'm certain if I ask, the house elves will find a corner or a closet for us that we can use."

Lupin nodded. "Now that's settled, any objection to starting tonight? There's a lot to go over."

Dean looked over to the Gryffindor table where it was impossible to miss Sirius Black's malevolent glare. Potter at least was chatting Lily Evans up and Pettigrew was too busy stuffing his face to care about anything else.

Dean tilted his head toward the Gryffindor table. "You sure your boyfriend over there isn't going to miss you? You're really okay with cheating on him with us?"

Lupin looked back. His face hardened from the eager to please expression that Dean was used to seeing into something else; angry, hurt, determined... it could have been any of those emotions or even all of them tied up into one. "Sirius really doesn't get a say in what I do with my time. He's rather lost that privilege, if he ever had it to begin with. And if he's feeling hurt and betrayed by my choices, well, I guess at least maybe he'll know how it feels and realize that actions have consequences."

Dean couldn't help being a little impressed. The Gryffindor prefect had definitely grown a backbone. 

Lupin returned his attention to the table, eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "I've made my decision. This is the best way that I can make amends for... for everything. If you'll trust me."

Severus was the last person that Lupin made eye contact with and he didn't back down or look away when Severus began doing that soul staring thing that he did. The moment went on a few beats too long. Lupin held his breath and stood his ground, lower lip held loosely between his teeth, not blinking or breaking eye contact. 

Even Dean wasn't so boneheaded to not recognize that they were having a Moment and that he shouldn't interrupt, but boy did he want to. 

Severus took a shaky breath, his voice softer than Dean had ever heard it, "Alright, Lupin. We'll see you tonight."

Lupin nodded. "Good. See you tonight."

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period, startling Dean. Everybody grabbed their things and started to scramble off to their next classes, leaving Dean alone with his empty lunch plate. "Crap!" He'd been too caught up in everything to remember to eat. 

And he hadn't had a chance to talk to Cas, yet, either. "Double crap!" 

Dean grabbed an apple from the center display before racing after Cas, but by the time Dean made it to the double doors, the Ravenclaw had already disappeared into the crowd.

Chapter Text

It was finally the day. Lupin had been right, it had taken a couple months to get everything for the potion sorted. And he'd been carrying the same mandrake leaf plastered to the top of his mouth for most of that time. But they'd followed Lupin's instructions to the letter and each had done the rituals and incantations. Now they were all sitting in a circle on one of the higher landings in the clocktower, looking out over the rolling Scottish hillside and waiting for the first lightning strike of the thunderstorm that had been brewing all day.

And by brewing, that meant literally brewing. Not content to wait for the unpredictable Scottish weather to make its own fireworks, Severus had been brewing a thunderstorm for them in a cauldron he kept squirreled away in his dorm room and had released it just after dinner. Sam had rightly pointed out that it was the wrong time of year to wait patiently for a lightning storm this far north, because Sam was a little genius and all the wizards around here (Dean included) tended to forget that science was just as powerful a divination tool as crystal balls when it came down to it sometimes. 

Lupin hadn't wanted to be up here when they performed the spell, something maybe related to plausible deniability or something, so it was just Severus, Sam, Castiel and himself. Sam and Cas were playing wizard's chess and Severus was rereading the transfiguration book with Lupin's notes written into the side. 

"It's going to work, Severus."

"I know that, Winchester."

"Then why do you keep reading it over and over again?"

Severus looked up and it could have been a trick of the dim light, but Dean could have sworn there was a tinge of color in his cheeks. "I'm not. Lupin is far better at transfiguration than I am and he's left notes all over this book. I'm just... gathering insight."

Insight. Huh. Dean shrugged. "Hadn't thought you were all that bad at it." 

"In the way that you aren't all that bad at potions?"

"I'm not bad at potions."

"No. But you're not as good as I am. And if I were to accidentally leave my notebook laying about, I have no doubt that you would sneak several peaks and employ a copying charm before returning it to me."

"Well, you've got me there. Uncle Bobby always says to work smarter, not harder."

Castiel looked over from his chess game. "You admire your uncle a great deal."

"Of course I do. Bobby's awesome."

"But not your father?"

Dean blinked, startled. "What kind of question is that? Dad's the best hunter in the business. Most hunters would give their left nut and a few fingers for a chance to see him in action."

Cas frowned and tilted his head. "But Bobby is the one who has the better advice?"

"No, that's not it. There isn't a thing about monster hunting that dad doesn't know. And there was a time when I wanted to be exactly like him. But then this wizard stuff happened and I can't be exactly like him, so..." Dean looked down at his hands. "It's just complicated."

Sam tried to rescue him with a quip, "Dad sometimes thinks education in an actual school with actual books is a waste of time." At Dean's glare, Sam raised his eyebrows. "What? I'm not wrong, am I?"

"You're not right, either. He supports us being here."

"Only cause Uncle Bobby gave him a black eye and told him to get his head out of his ass when he tried to stop you from leaving that first year."

"You were supposed to be asleep when that happened."

Sam pouted. "So were you."

"Yeah, so, maybe me being a wizard came as a bit of a shock to him, happens to us all. And he came around in the end. So, clearly he doesn't think that getting an education is a complete waste of time."

"Whatever, Dean, but my point still stands. Bobby would be happy you're using your brain, but Dad certainly wouldn't. Dad's more inclined to say 'If you just shut up and got to work, it would be done already.'" 

Dean bristled. "He's usually right about that stuff. Usually. And having people second guess him out in the field when lives are at stake would be stupid AND dangerous, because while you're busy wondering why you have to do something and he's busy explaining to you and not focusing on what he needs to be doing, the monster is busy sneaking up to ambush and eat your ass, so? His way of teaching isn't wrong, it's just... different."

"Dean, his approach to teaching is to let you get into more trouble than you can get out of on your own and then embarrass you about it. Setting you up to fail so he can twist it into some teachable moment isn't--"

"That's not fair, Sam. Dad wouldn't--"

Severus thumped his book closed a little louder than he needed to, but it got their attention. "It's almost time. Pay attention. We have to drink the potion after the first lightning strike we see and then recite the incantation one more time."

Dean nodded. Severus hadn't been wrong to get their minds back on the matter at hand. The hairs on his arms were already starting to tingle from the charged atmosphere. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, potions at the ready, senses straining and ready for action.

"There!"

Light flashed in the distance and Dean guzzled his potion. He held his wand tip above his heart and said, "Amato Animo Animoto Animagus," just as the wave of thunder echoed through the clocktower and vibrated into his bones. 

Dean didn't have quite the awareness necessary to catalog everything that he felt over the next few minutes. It was mostly a blur that felt like it had looked the very first time he'd tried to turn a chair into a throw rug. He thinks he ended up with a shag carpet upholstered coffee table of all things. It was strange and baffling. Unusual. With too much hair and too many limbs in weird positions. 

It was finally a sneeze ripping itself out of his tender snout that forced him to come back to himself and realize that holy shit, he did it! He was a... well... what the hell was he, anyway? He looked down at his hands. His paws were covered in dark fur and had positively evil-looking curved claws where his fingers used to be.

Beyond the physical shape differences, and being much, MUCH lower to the cobblestone flooring than he was used to, the change that startled him the most was the explosion of sensory input. Not necessarily from his eyes, which seemed to see things a little fuzzier than he was used to, but his nose... He could smell EVERYTHING. There were smells he recognized that were just like normal, but so much more intense and there were smells he recognized that were much too far away for him to be smelling with his human nose. There were smells he didn't recognize that made his nose twitch and he breathed in deep just to give his brain more puzzle pieces to sort through to figure out what they could be.

One smell that he didn't recognize was big and musky, kind of gamey like some of the animals they cared for in Magic Beasts, but it smelled more like American forests than British ones. It was a weird distinction to make, but there it was. And it also had some hints of that salad dressing that Sammy liked, the vinagrete one with the herbs and things. Dean twirled around, looking for Sammy.

But Sam wasn't up here. There was, however, a gigantic moose, wobbling on hugely tall legs as it tried to bend down, awkwardly managing the weight of its enormous antlers as it twisted his head in different directions to try and get a better look at Dean. It bellowed, a weird mooing grunt of a noise that somehow still sounded like Sam to him.

"Dean! Is that you? Holy cow, Dean, are you a honey badger? For real? You're so small!"

Dean retorted, his voice now a chittering weasel squeak. "Dude, you're one to talk. How the hell are you a moose? You're, like, barely five feet nothing and skinny as a twig. There's no way you were hiding all that bulk under your robes."

"Guess I got a growth spurt coming."

"Well, I'm glad we didn't bet on our forms or anything. I would have lost."

"Why, what did you think I was going to be?"

"A golden retriever."

"Yeah, well, I can't believe you're literally a honey badger. That's too priceless." The moose shook its head and stood up to its full (admittedly impressive) height. "Hey, where's Severus?"

A crow fluttered at the moose's feet and cawed loudly, "Here."

The moose turned its head again, unable to back up because of the size of the landing. In all honesty, maybe they should have picked a better place to do this, but it had worked! Dean sniffed at the crow, smelling feathers of course, but also the eucalyptus and menthol scents that Severus tended to use to mask the more pungent potion ingredients he experimented with during his free time. Of course, Dean could smell those, too, now. Thankfully, there was something about his badger brain that didn't seem to mind the weird kaleidoscope of scents wafting about. 

Dean bounced on his feet, tail happily erect. "Dude! That shape is perfect for you!"

The crow flapped his wings and folded them daintily again, beak quickly adjusting feathers to lay more correctly. "Isn't it just?"

"What about Cas? What did you change into?" Dean sniffed, focusing on the scent that smelled so much like Cas and so much more, like cinnamon and fresh baked apple pie and cheeseburgers all rolled into one somehow. He turned to find Cas pressed up against the wall, still in his human shape. He couldn't see the expression on his face very well from down here, but he could smell the distress rolling off him now that he was looking for it. "Cas, what the hell?"

Cas looked down at him. "Dean? Is that you?"

"Of course it's me."

"I can't understand you, it just sounds like... growls to me."

That made sense. Dean closed his eyes and focused on the words of the incantation and of feeling human again and when he opened his eyes again, he was back at face level with Cas. His nose twitched and he rubbed his eyes a bit. It would take some getting used to going back and forth. But there were other things to figure out just now. "What the hell, man? Why didn't you change?"

Castiel shook his head, not meeting Dean's eyes. "It didn't work."

"Well, why not?" Sam and Severus had both shifted back into their human shapes, both looking just as puzzled as Dean felt. "You followed the same steps that we did? Recited the incantation every morning?"

"Yes, Dean." Cas was beginning to look more indignant than flustered.

"In the evening, too?" 

Cas' already gravely voice dropped almost another register and seemed to pick up hints of broken glass for how rough and growly it came out, "I know how to follow a spell, Dean!" 

"Then why didn't it work?"

"I don't know!" Cas looked away, almost as if he was searching for answers out in the thunder clouds. 

"Come on, Cas, there has to be something--"

"What part of 'I don't know' escapes your understanding?" Dean would have flinched away from the anger in Castiel's eyes if he hadn't been busy being so horribly turned on by the sheer vibes of barely restrained power coming from every fiber of his body. "I followed the steps just as exactly as you did." 

Dean swallowed hard, then nodded, his frustration still clouding his judgment. "Okay. That's fine. Maybe you just said a word wrong or something, we can fix this."

"I don't get words wrong. And there's nothing to fix." 

Castiel turned and descended the stairs without another word and Dean leaned over the rail calling after him, "Cas. Cas! Dammit."

He turned to look at Severus and Sam. Sam was looking anywhere but at Dean and Severus was still as a gargoyle, taking it all in. 

"Well? Anybody got any clue what THAT was all about?" 

Sam let out a single exasperated huff of breath, the one he used when he thought Dean was being too stupid for words. Severus merely raised his eyebrows and said, "No idea." 

Chapter Text

Dean was the first to the library the next evening, but he didn't have homework on his mind. His books were open, but his mind was raking over every interaction, every puzzling moment, and every conversation heavy with hidden meanings that had taken place over the last few months.

The pieces were starting to come together. Maybe they weren't falling into place just yet, but they were at least assembling themselves into a picture.

Had Dean been just a little more attentive, he would have noticed the concerned looks Sam was giving him as he sat down. Had he been a LOT more attentive, he would have seen Severus practically manhandling Lupin into the library and the exchange of words they stopped to have just out of earshot. As it was, it didn't even register that whatever they were talking about had Severus exasperated enough to physically grab Lupin by the wrist and drag him to their table and sit him down.

Severus cleared his throat. "Winchester."

Dean glanced up from the blank parchment he'd been staring at. "Hey." 

Severus and Sam exchanged looks and Lupin looked like a deer caught in the headlights of the Impala, but Dean was far too busy trying to make sense of the puzzle pieces.

Severus tried again. "I found Lupin in a supply closet last night."

"Oh?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "He was sleeping there."

"Huh. That's, uh... That's different."

Lupin looked between Sam and Severus, then the three of them looked at Dean. Lupin started to stand, but Severus grabbed his wrist again and stilled him with a Look until he sighed in defeat and settled down again.

Sam fidgeted. "Yeah? What was he doing in the supply closet, Severus?"

"Apparently, he's been excommunicated from the Gryffindor dorm room."

When Dean didn't take the bait, Sam asked, "Really? Why would they kick him out like that?"

"Apparently," Severus had started speaking slowly, drawing out the syllables, "the other fifth years are not fond of the idea of Lupin helping us. They see him teaching us the animagus charm as a betrayal." 

Dean continued his distracted staring at the parchment.

Sam also began to emphasize his words in odd ways. "Wow. What a shitty thing to kick somebody out of their dorm for."

"Isn't it, though?"

"And he's been sleeping in the supply closet? Ever since they found out he was helping us?"

"Evidently."

Severus was now full out glaring at Dean, Lupin was shifting uncomfortably, and Sam was beginning to look flummoxed. Dean continued to be oblivious to it all, lost in his own ruminations.

Lupin stood. "I should go."

Severus did not relinquish his grip on Lupin's wrist and practically snarled, "Sit. Down."

Lupin sat.

Sam cleared his throat. "It kind of seems like we should do something, since it's our fault that Lupin is sleeping in a supply closet."

Lupin shook his head, "But it's not your fault; I chose--"

"Quiet." Severus turned his glare to Lupin and held it until Lupin smiled thinly and looked down at the table. Severus huffed out an annoyed breath. "If only there were a house at Hogwarts that took in strays..."

"Yeah," said Sam, "One that liked to protect people that have been cast out like that. Especially for helping us in particular."

"If only."

Dean nodded, still distracted. "Yeah. If only."

Severus slammed his hand on the table, startling everyone. "Bleeding hell, Winchester, are you even paying attention?"

"What?" Dean shook his head. "Does anything about Cas seem strange to you?"

Severus blinked. "What? Like talking to a bloody wall, I swear." He shared a glance at the others around the table. "You all seem strange to me, but I rather think I've been resigned to that for some time now."

"No, like REALLY strange. Like, he won't hang out with us anymore, he's touchy about everything. He won't tell us where he goes when he's not with us in the library or who he's hanging out with instead."

Severus sighed. "I'm sorry, Lupin. Usually our Hufflepuff is much better at this FEELINGS stuff, but clearly he's having a crisis of some sort."

Dean scoffed. "No, really, think about it. What if... What if the spell didn't work last night because it couldn't? What if it only works on humans?"

Sam was as puzzled as the others at the table. "But, Dean... it DOES only work on humans."

"Exactly! So, the fact that it didn't work means that Cas isn't human!"

Lupin flinched and Severus looked at him with the tiniest headshake. 

"No, it makes sense!" Dean was practically vibrating; the puzzle pieces were finally slotting together. "That has to be it! That's why he's uncomfortable around us, why he gets angry when we talk about monster hunting and magical beasts and things. It explains why he hides from us now and why he's getting potions on the sly from Meg Masters." 

Dean gasped when everything finally all slotted together, the realization making him dizzy. "Guys! Cas is the damned werewolf! He has to be!"

The rest of the table was silent. Lupin had gone quite pale and Severus raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as if he was fighting off a migraine.

Sam fidgeted. "Dean, that's probably not..."

"No, Sam, it all makes sense."

"Winchester, you're talking nonsense."

"Bullshit! If it's nonsense, then why didn't the animagus spell work for him? Why won't he tell us about the potion he's getting from Masters? It's a wolfsbane potion; it has to be! Nothing else fits! Cas is--"

Lupin leaned forward, suddenly very intense, his voice a low hiss, not meant to be heard by anyone outside their table.  "I'm the werewolf!"

Dean blinked. "What?"

"Merlin's beard, Winchester, I'm the sodding werewolf, alright? For shit's sake!" He sat back in his chair and looked at Severus, eyes a bit more watery, lip a bit more wibbly. Severus sighed and looked down to where his fingers were still wrapped around Lupin's wrist. Slowly, he slid them down to stroke at the back of Lupin's hand until the white knuckled fist relaxed enough to open. Then Severus entwined their fingers together in a hand hold that was as gentle as it was solid; not meant to harm or restrain, but at the same time steady and not going anywhere.

Dean would have thought it cute if he hadn't been so gobsmacked. "Erm. What?"

Sam shrugged and nodded. "Lupin's the werewolf, Dean. Thought you knew."

"That can't be right." Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. "How do you know?" 

"It was kind of obvious, once I knew there was one." 

"But, how? I mean... What? When?" 

"The next full moon after you were in the hospital wing. I just looked around at all the tables to see who was missing." 

Dean turned to Severus. "You knew, too?"

"When we studied boggarts, Lupin's took the shape of a moon. After the... incident... I put aughts and crosses together. Or ones and twos? However muggles say it."

"Two and two." Dean felt numb. The boggart lesson had been back in second year, or third... it was hard to remember. "You put two and two together."

Lupin blushed, "I was hoping you hadn't caught onto that one, actually." 

"You are sorely mistaken if you think I haven't been paying attention, Lupin."

"I'm sorry that you had to. Pay that much attention to us, that is. I know you were probably just trying to find ways to defend yourself from... But, if I could have done anything different..." Lupin looked even more watery and wibbly. Severus looked like the migraine he'd been fending off was causing him more problems than he was prepared to deal with.

Dean shook his head, still flummoxed by the revelation. "But if you're the... Then Cas isn't... And I..."

Severus breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, look. He's finally connecting some dots."

Sam huffed, "Be nice, Severus."

"Show more respect for your elders, Samuel."

Dean swallowed. If LUPIN was the werewolf, then all of that suspicion that he'd heaped on Cas was completely misplaced, and while the dude still had secrets, he was more than allowed to have some of them, surely. It was unreasonable to think the guy didn't have friends before Dean had nutted up the courage to start talking to him. After all, Cas and Severus had been friends long before Dean had involved himself. And if whatever secret that he had WASN'T that he was some sort of monster masquerading as a human and endangering the entire student body, then whatever else the secret was, it had to be pretty mild in comparison, right? And that meant... "I've treated him like such a dick, haven't I?"

Severus said, "There it is. See? He came to it all his own. I didn't even have to lay a hex on him."

Sam shrugged, looking a little sheepish. He turned to Dean. "I wasn't going to say anything, but yeah. Total dick." 

And that only meant one thing when it all came down to it: Dean should apologize.

"Shit. I gotta go find Cas." He stood, only tripping over his robe and the chair a little bit. He was dimly aware of the conversation carrying on behind him as he walked to the front of the library, looking down rows of books in case Cas was hiding behind the stacks somewhere...

Severus sounded a little ruffled. "I'll admit, that didn't go quite as I planned. Your brother's out of sorts."

"Yeah, Dean seems off, definitely."

"I didn't mean to cause any bother."

"You're not a bother, Lupin; the Hufflepuff den mother is usually much better at championing causes than this, but since he didn't take the hint, I suppose I can find a way to smuggle you into the Slytherin prefect dorm. It shouldn't be too hard."

Dean left the library, wandering toward the hallway where he saw Masters give Cas the potion the other day. The castle was tremendously huge and if Dean couldn't find Cas there, he'd have to be content with waiting till he saw him at breakfast the next day. Or camping out in Ravenclaw tower until he came back.

There was no Cas in the hallway, which wasn't too much of a surprise, but the door to the nearby bathroom was suspiciously charmed closed and it seemed as good an idea as any.

Dean pulled out his wand and "Alohamora"ed the lock as easy as if he'd been doing it for five years, which he had. He pushed open the door and stopped dead.

He'd found Cas. But more than that, he'd found Cas' wings. Gigantic black wings, stretched out to their full wingspan, easily six feet on each side. Cas had WINGS.

Cas may not have been a werewolf, but he certainly wasn't human and he had literal for real WINGS.

Cas looked up and saw Dean's reflection in the mirror. Cas's wings flinched and folded up neatly again his back. His eyes were wide and a little scared. "Dean... I can explain!"

Dean doubted it, because how could a human explain away being attached to that many feathers, which meant that while Cas WASN'T a werewolf, he absolutely wasn't human, and if he wasn't human, he had to be some kind of monster, hadn't he?

Dean ignored the pleading in Cas' too blue eyes and listened instead to the sinking nauseous dread in his stomach that told him to run as fast as he could so he wouldn't have to deal with this.

So Dean ran away -- away from the bathroom, away from Cas, away from those WINGS -- as fast as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

###

Dean couldn't even pace this time as he waited for Bobby to call back. He crouched in front of the floo, staring at the fire, still as a rabbit being stalked by a predator, feeling like any wrong move could send him tumbling into an abyss he wouldn't be able to climb out of.

When the flames whooshed and Bobby's face appeared, Dean nearly sobbed in relief.

Bobby frowned. "Got your message, Dean. Are you and Sam okay?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, Bobby. Sam's fine."

"And you? You sounded pretty tore up on the message you left." 

Dean shook his head. "I need your help with something."

"Well, it's a good thing I've got my ears on. What's troubling you?"

Dean took a deep breath. "I need to know everything there is to know about veela." 

Bobby frowned. "Veela?"

"Yeah. Our textbook doesn't say much about them, but I know they're a type of being, I know they're in the same class as winged humanoids like harpies and they share some characteristics of sirens, but aren't actually a member of the siren family. I know that they're kind of like fairies but not really and I know that male veelas aren't really heard of but that doesn't mean they don't exist." 

Dean sucked in a breath. "What I don't know is if my best friend is a veela and if he is, how would I know? And if there are no male Veela, does that mean he has to be half veela? But if he's only half veela then why the hell does he have wings? Wings! The dude has giant fucking wings, Bobby, and I don't know if that's normal or not and I'm pretty sure I may have seen him shoot fireballs, but if they do that enthralling thing that sirens do and make themselves attractive, am I only friends with him because he's been hitting me with sexy veela mojo and how would I know if I'd been whammied or not and, Bobby, I'm freaking out over here!"

"Why don't you slow down and breathe for a moment, while I see if I've got the gist of this."

Dean nodded, "Yeah, okay."

"So, your friend... has wings?"

Dean nodded. 

"And you think he might be a veela? Aside from the wings, which might be from any number of things, what makes you think that?"

Dean closed his eyes, going through all the pieces of evidence and organizing them in his mind's eye. 

"A couple months back, I guess... He was really upset about an assignment. We had to write an essay about veela. Cas was really pissed off about it. The fact that veela were being included in the curriculum about defense against winged beasts--" really ruffled his feathers. Dean frowned and shook his head. "It really upset him."

"Okay. What else?"

"There was a moment... I was dueling with this other kid--" 

Bobby's voice was stern. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that part."

Dean blushed. "Practicing. I was practicing spells. And things got out of hand and before the other guy could hit me with..." with fangs, and claws, and fear. Dean shuddered at the memory and tried to swallow the sudden dryness in his mouth. "A cheap shot. He was going for a cheap shot. And then suddenly there were these fireballs out of nowhere. But not like the fireballs they teach you in school. I mean, they don't really teach you fireballs in school, but people tend to pick them up anyway. But, I haven't seen anything like them. And I've seen just about every fire starting spell in the Hogwarts library."

Bobby nodded. Dean didn't have to explain to Bobby why he would have taken a special interest in all manner of fire summoning. Fire was one of the most useful tools in a hunter's arsenal. "So, you think since these fireballs weren't from a spell you recognized, they might be something your friend could do organically, as a natural ability."

"Yeah. I mean... It's possible he knows a fire spell I haven't heard of, but Hogwarts has a pretty damn big library and I can't imagine Cas having access to a spell book that Hogwarts doesn't."

"Okay. So, we have wings, a bad attitude about an assignment, and a spell you don't recognize. Got any more?"

"Yeah. Sammy and I... and Cas, too... We all did a thing. And it worked on Sam and me, but it didn't work for Cas."

Bobby didn't look impressed. "A 'thing', Dean? You and Sam did a 'thing?' Am I going to need my blood pressure medication?"

"Before you get mad, I just wanna say that it worked and we're both fine."

"That doesn't make me feel better, now what the hell did you do?"

"We, uh... We figured out howtocasttheanimaguscharm..." Dean coughed.

The flames rippled. "Boy, did you have an extra serving of stupid with your cheerios or something?" 

"Look, nothing bad happ--"

"You could have been killed! Or mutilated! Did you even think about Sam? Dammit, Dean, it's bad enough when you pull shit stupid stunts, but you have to drag your eleven year old brother into it, too?"

"Bobby, I know--"

"Do I SOUND like I've finished? I've half a mind to come over there and tan your hide so hard your blisters get blisters! An Animagus Charm? At fifteen?"

Dean bristled. He didn't appreciate that Bobby thought he would put Sam in danger. "There's other schools that teach it to younger students than me."

"With proper training and supervision by teachers who have decades of experience. And did I mention supervision? By experts who can keep a watchful eye in case you get something wrong? I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that neither of you idgits thought to inform YOUR teachers of your little extracurricular escapade? Of course not, because they would have stopped you, because it's one of those spells that you don't just casually muck about with until you're damned good and ready!"

"Look. I was ready. We both were. We cast the charm. It worked. Nothing bad happened. End of story."

"Clearly not if you're asking me why your friend has wings. Did he cast the charm, too?"

"Well, yeah, but it didn't work."

"And you don't think growing a random pair of wings might be one of those risky side effects of failing to perform the spell correctly?"

Dean felt cold all of a sudden. Is that what happened? Had Dean pushed his best friend into doing a spell he wasn't ready for? "No, it can't be. Cas is a genius; he never gets spells wrong."

Bobby might have had an answer or a clarification or something to ease the sudden enormous guilt that settled like a toad in his stomach, but Dean didn't hear it. The flames in the floo disappeared and every light in the common room snuffed out all at once, plunging the dorm into perfect blackness.

The screams started immediately.

Chapter Text

The first order of business, Dean felt, was definitely not to give into the panic that everyone else was falling into.

"Everyone just calm down!" Dean had to project his voice to be heard over the screams and hysterical chatter. "Calm down and keep your cool. There's nothing to be afraid of in here, I promise. We're all safe, just give us a moment to figure out the lights, okay?"

Dean quickly found out that figuring out the lights was a lot easier said than done. Nothing he tried seemed to work. Lumos and Incendio were both non-starters. In fact, none of the spells he tried, or even the ones that the other older Hufflepuffs tried, made even the slightest dent in the darkness that surrounded them. The part that pissed him off the most was that none of his mundane light sources worked either; not the zippo lighter or his trusty industrial strength mag light. It took one hell of a charm to knock out magical AND non-magical light sources.

Fortunately, Dean's constant reassurances were still holding out for the moment. But that wouldn't last long if they didn't get something figured out. The older students had blindly made their way into each room and gathered all the younger ones into the common area so everyone was together.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. He had to admit it was a LITTLE unnerving that he literally couldn't see his hand right in front of his face, but he made damn good and sure that he kept it out of his voice. "Okay, everybody, listen up. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to head out into the castle and see if I can make contact with any of the teachers or the other prefects. Chances are, somebody was trying to play some kind of joke and it got out of hand. Prefect Marshall will be in charge here until I get back and the seventh years will put up wards and protection charms after I'm gone. This is the safest dorm in the castle; Helga Hufflepuff designed it that way herself. So, we're all perfectly safe and nobody has anything to worry about, right?"

Dean nodded to himself, mentally ticking off items on his checklist. Something about protection charms...

"Hey, that's an idea. Can anybody cast a Patronus Charm? Like one of the good ones that sticks around for a while? I know it's a little advanced but there's gotta be one of us here who can do it, right?" 

One of the seventh years spoke up, "I can."

"Great. Think you can give it a try?" 

"Yeah, just a second. Here. Expecto Patronum!"

The first light they'd seen in several minutes shot out of a wand before solidifying into a bright silvery horse that trotted around the common room before settling down next to Dagna Harding who had a shit eating grin on her face. The glow from the Patronus didn't light up the whole room, but it provided enough light to be comforting in an uncomfortable situation. There was a general murmur of relief and appreciation. Dean smiled as he clapped her on the shoulder. 

"Great job! There, see? Making progress already!" 

Dean had never had much luck with that particular charm himself. He strongly suspected that if he ever did have a moment in his life capable of providing a happy enough memory to make a Patronus Charm work, he would spoil it himself by being a paranoid bastard about it. 

"Right. So. Lock up behind me and I'll be back as soon as I get some answers, alright?"

Dean took a breath, readying himself for whatever was coming and slipped out the door into the darkness of the castle basement. He waited until he heard the wooden creak of the barrel shaped door closing and the click of the locking mechanism behind him and felt the reassuring power of protection charms swirling up into place a moment later. It was good to know that the other Hufflepuffs would be safe while he was out stumbling around in the dark with no way of lighting his way. 

He only made it a few steps before muttering, "This is stupid." He fished in one of the inner pockets of his robe for a vial of liquid that he had only recently perfected in Potions class. It was a modified version of an Oculus potion, except instead of restoring lost sight, it enhanced the sight you already had. One thing you could always rely on in a monster hunt was that if there was a dark and creepy place for a monster to hide, that was exactly where you would find yourself at least once before you could bring the bastard down. And most things that liked to hide in dark and creepy places tended to see better in the dark than humans did. 

Dean had grabbed a handful of the vials out of his trunk when he'd been testing his
flashlight out. He downed one now and kept his eyes squeezed shut while the potion took effect. When he opened them again, the corridor appeared in front of him in muted shades of gray. It wasn't the best, but it was easily better than shuffling in the dark. He could see well enough to at least make his way to the stairs, and when he got up to the parts of the castle that had more ambient light to work with, he'd be able to see even more.

Dean's first priority, of course, was to check on Sam, so he would have to find his way to the Slytherin dorm room, which meant a trek past the kitchens and up the kitchen stairwell to the Grand Staircase... And then down again? He was pretty sure the dungeons were a floor below the basement, but finding them in the dark was never something he figured on having to do. 

The thing that creeped Dean out the most about sneaking through Hogwarts in the dark was how empty it felt. When the torches and sconces were lit, there was constant movement from the paintings, there were ghosts floating hither and thither, there were even other students being sneaky for their own reasons. Tonight, though... tonight was just eery.

The feeling of dread only grew when he made it down into the dungeon and instead of a blank wall where he was sure the Slytherin door was supposed to be hiding, there was a gaping hole blasted through the stone. Fear threatened to choke him.

"Sam! Sam? Can you hear me?"

Dean ran forward and looked through the hole in the wall. It opened up to stairs that presumably led down to the Slytherin common room. There was no movement at all that Dean could see.

"Can anybody hear me?"

A shuffling, moaning sound came from somewhere behind him and Dean spun, wand pointing at the darkness. 

"Someone there?"

He strained his eyes looking as far as he could into the darkness until he could make out a shape.

"Hello? If you're not something I need to kill, I need you to let me know in the next three seconds."

The figure didn't answer and continued shuffling forward. Dean could make out just enough to know that whatever it was was not human. 

"Last chance, douchebag!" Still no answer, still more shuffling, and Dean still couldn't quite make out what he was looking at in spite of his enhanced vision. "Alright, you asked for it. Depulso!" 

Dean whipped his wand to the side and a wave of force slammed the creature into a wall. It shrieked, but the spell didn't seem to have done anything but piss it off. Now, instead of a slow shuffle, it sprinted forward, arms stretched out to grab. As it got closer, its features became clearer and Dean could see he was dealing with some sort of humanoid corpse. Dean cast the spell again, shoving the creature back to give himself some space and a moment to think. 

In the space of a second or two, Dean was able to consider and rule out a handful of humanoid corpse-like monsters: zombies, revenants, ghouls... The only one Dean couldn't rule out was an Inferius, and that wasn't actually a pleasant thought. Inferi were pretty much only vulnerable to fire. They didn't appreciate light too much either, but since there was no way Dean could summon either fire or light thanks to whatever charm was playing havoc with the castle... well. The combination was too on the nose to be a mere coincidence and it was hard not to imagine all the ways this could turn ugly in a hurry. 

Dean had to find Sam.

But first he had to take care of the monster that had started sprinting toward him again, ready to tear his innards out. He couldn't use fire to take it down, but maybe a good old-fashioned dismembering would do the trick just as well.

Dean would have loved to have a chance to test drive his animagus form a bit to know its strengths and weaknesses, but sometimes a trial by fire was hard to beat. He put his wand in its holster and thought the words to the Animagus Charm as loud as he could while thinking very badgery thoughts. 

He blinked his eyes and twitched his nose that was suddenly flooded with the scent of rotting corpses, not just in this hallway, but coming from the Slytherin dorm and spreading up the great staircase. 

Dean bared his teeth, now sharp and pointy and capable of doing some serious damage. He charged forward, deadly claws clacking against the stone floor as he bounded across it until he could grab a leg and start pulling and shaking his head like a dog until it ripped free. The Inferius tried to grab at Dean, but his skin was loose enough that it just couldn't get a hold of him that Dean couldn't twist himself out of. Any attempts to bite at him couldn't seem to get through his tough hide. 

Dean, with his claws and his teeth, didn't have the same problems. He ripped and tore and shredded until the Inferi was in too many pieces to matter.

When it didn't seem like there was more Dean could do to keep the Inferi from getting back up, he snuffled around looking for one smell in particular: pine trees and salad dressing. He found it easily enough and began following it along the wall. There was another Inferius in his path, but not for long. He kept going, following the hallway until he got to a turn. There was an Inferius laid out, but trampled and flattened into uselessness by something heavy. Sam's smell was getting stronger. 

Dean picked up his pace from a purposeful trot to an outright gallop. Dean skittered to a halt at the door that led out into the courtyard. He shifted back into a human, rolling his shoulders. "Sam?" He pushed the door open. "Sam? You out here?"

He wasn't. Three Inferi were, though. "Shit." 

Dean cast the charm and shifted again. At least he was getting good practice. And at least outside in the courtyard, the waning moon and the stars provided more light to see than there was in the dark hallway. 

He snarled and lunged at the closest one, tearing into it with ease. The second Inferius grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and Dean twisted his head to bite at it, too, still kicking and tearing at the first one with his claws. Before he could do much more, a loud bellow trumpeted the arrival of a bull moose charging across the courtyard, antlers lowered to skewer and scoop the third Inferi into the air with a toss. The moose swung his antlers the other way and knocked the second Inferius off Dean's back and sent it tumbling across the courtyard. 

Dean continued to rip and tear until the first Inferius was a pile of pieces. Lupin came jogging into the courtyard with Severus in his crow form clinging to his shoulder like some gothic version of a pirate and his parrot. 

Dean stood up on human legs, making the transition quicker and easier now that he'd done it a couple times. 

"Hey, you guys okay?"

Lupin held up a hand, flashing the universal gesture of requesting just a moment please, before bending forward and bracing his hands on his knees and gulping in breaths. "Winded. One second."

Severus jumped off his shoulder with an awkward flap of wings and transformed mid-air, a move that would have looked a hundred times cooler if he didn't stumble a bit when he landed. He shook out his sleeves and dusted off his robes as if he had every intention of making the inelegant landing that he did, but Dean knew he would practice it until it became effortlessly dramatic. 

"We're all fine. Aside from Lupin clearly needing to exercise more."

Lupin stood up straight and readjusted his own robes. "If you say so, Severus. But I didn't see you trying to keep up with a charging moose. He's wicked fast when he gets going."

Severus' lip twitched up in what could almost -- only almost -- be described as fond amusement. "I fail to see what my resourcefulness has to do with your lack of physical aptitude."

Lupin shook his head, smiling himself. The moose trotted over and changed back into Sam and immediately overbalanced, his arms windmilling wildly as he fell backwards onto his butt. 

Sam blushed all the way to his ears. "Takes some getting used to, going from having antlers and four legs to support them to not having all that weighing you down."

Dean laughed. "Whatever you say, short stuff." 

Dean held out his hand and Sam took it, leveraging himself up to his feet. Sam scoffed, no heat in his voice when he said, "Jerk. You're just jealous cause you're, like, a twelfth of my size when we're changed."

"Maybe. But I think I can still take you down. I'm a honey badger, bitch! Seriously, though, I'm glad you guys are alright. Does anyone actually know what's going on?"

Severus sighed, "Unfortunately. Have you heard much about the Dark Lord?"

Dean laughed. "The Dark Lord? Are you serious?" He laughed again then started to trail off when he realized neither Snape or Lupin seemed to find it funny. "Oh, shit, you are serious."

Severus raised his eyebrows in that way he did when Dean was being especially thick headed about an assignment. "Yes, Winchester, because I joke so often that I am simply unable to contain myself while we're in the midst of an actual life and death situation."

"You can't blame me for being a little skeptical of a dude that calls himself a dark lord. It's a little dramatic for my tastes, but, hey, maybe he spent too much time in Middle Earth as a kid. Who am I to judge?"

Snape frowned, opening his mouth and closing it again. He shared a glance with Lupin, both of them looking genuinely puzzled.

"Middle Earth? Lord of the Rings? Eye of Sauron? Nothing?"

Sam shook his head. "You're such a nerd, Dean."

Dean sighed. "Okay, not important. So, what's this guy's deal? Take over the world? Enslave the masses?"

Severus shook his head. "I don't think I can honestly say for certain. Since I've begun spending my time with you and your brother, I haven't exactly been welcome among the set that studies his ideology."

Lupin shrugged. "In general terms, he says he wants to bring peace to the wizarding world and allow us to take our rightful place as the superior culture, allowing us to live without the need for secrecy. But to do that, he wants to make Muggles painfully aware of where they fall in the pecking order. But specifically, that means--"

"Killing them," Severus cut in. "Let's not mince words about it; the rumors are that he's been killing Muggles. Half-bloods, too, if they give him reason."

Sam had some input, too. "His followers call themselves Death Eaters and some of the older Slytherins want to join their ranks. They talk a lot about blood purity and not polluting the ancient wizarding family trees and stupid stuff like that."

"So, basically he's your average fascist dictator wannabe Hitler-fanboy." 

Lupin leaned towards Severus, and asked in a low voice, "Is that a Muggle reference or an American one?"

Severus answered in an equally low voice, "No idea, but asking him to explain won't help you understand it, whatever it is."

Dean sighed again. "Never mind. What does the Dark Lord have to do with the walking corpses and the power outage?"

Severus said, "I was practicing my animagus form and was perched near the ceiling of the common room." The eyebrow arch spoke volumes and Dean received the message: Severus was not willing to be questioned about what he was doing up there.

But Dean couldn't help a small joke at his friend's expense. "You weren't perching on a bust of Pallas just above the chamber door by any chance, were you?"

Severus rolled his eyes and ignored him. "And while I was there, I overheard them discussing the plan they were about to put into action. There is a secret entrance into the castle located below the Black Lake; they used it to smuggle a hoard of Inferi into Hogwarts. Something of an audition of sorts to prove their worthiness to join the Death Eaters. I didn't hear any of them mention a fire smothering charm, but I don't see how any of them on their own could have managed a charm of that magnitude."

Dean swallowed down the anger and betrayal that anyone he knew, had passed in the halls, had shared meals and Quidditch matches with, could be capable of such a thing. There would be time for anger later. 

"What about the other Slytherins, the ones not responsible for this mess?"

"Safe for now," said Severus. "Lupin knew of a hidden passage into a storage room and we were able to sneak most of them into hiding before the invasion even started."

Lupin shook his head. "It's only a temporary hiding spot at best. They're hidden for the moment, but there's no way to fend off an assault if they're found. We were trying to make our way to you and see if you wouldn't mind taking in some refugees."

"Of course. Hufflepuff is the safest dorm at Hogwarts. And there's plenty of room for everyone. In fact... We should probably check on the other Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws and see if they need any help."

Severus sighed. "Gryffindors probably more than the Ravenclaws. I won't bother denying there's a bit of a feud between our houses, Lupin, and you should know that I'm not at all sorry for my part in it."

"I'm not asking you to be, Severus."

"Good. I wouldn't want you to suffer from unrealistic expectations. But, I also wouldn't want anyone to be hurt as a result of that feud. So, the Gryffindors should be our first priority."

Dean's shoulders slumped, but he nodded anyway. As much as he wanted to fight his way up to Ravenclaw tower to see that Cas was safe with his own eyes, Severus had a valid point that Dean just couldn't ignore. "Alright, here's what I suggest. We split up. Lupin takes one of us up to Gryffindor tower and we'll see if we can't smuggle them out of harm's way and down to the Hufflepuff dorm. And it's probably best if it's Sam or me that goes with you. Spells won't do much against Inferi until we can get light and fire working again, and no offense, Severus, but Sam and I both have animal forms that--"

"Are less inclined for finesse and more suitable for delivering blunt force trauma. Yes, I'm well aware and no, I'm not offended."

Lupin spoke up. "If you're up for it, Winchester, I think it best if you come. If I show up with a Slytherin, even one as well-mannered as young Sam here, they're going to have a hard time believing I haven't been Imperious cursed into luring them out."

"Okay, that makes sense. Severus, can you and Sammy get the Slytherins from their hiding spot over to the kitchen hallway? The doorway is hidden in the barrels just past the kitchen entrance. Don't actually knock on the door, or you'll get soaked in vinegar, but if you stand a few feet off and tell them I sent you, somebody will open up for you."

Severus blinked. "You want me to stand outside your badger fortress and ask them nicely to let down the drawbridge for an army of Slytherin intruders? And I'm to alleviate their concerns by saying that Winchester sent us? Are you quite sure that's the best tactic?"

"Actually, that does sound pretty stupid." Dean snapped his fingers. "Better idea! Ask one of the house elves in the kitchen to take a message into the dorm for me. They can apparate around the wards inside the castle, so that's probably the easiest way to take messages in and out." 

"Much better. In that case, yes, I think Sam and I can manage."

"Good. In that case, I'll go with Lupin. Whichever group finishes first can go check on the Ravenclaws. I think they'll be fine up there for the moment, but we can at least look in and make sure."

With battle plans settled, Dean led the way to the great double doors that opened into the entrance to the Grand Staircase. As soon as he opened them, though, he wished he'd back-tracked through the other door that he'd originally come in from. Because this way was blocked by a gigantic stag. One that immediately brought back memories of black dogs and white teeth.

Chapter Text

Before Dean had a chance to react -- and in his defense, it wasn't everyday that you walked through the school doors and ran into an honest to goodness deer with antlers and everything that instantly reminded you of the worst night of your life so far -- Lupin was pushing past him.

"Prongs! Is everyone okay? Where are Padfoot and Wormtail?" 

The stag melted and shifted into the forms of a somewhat bedraggled James Potter. "Mooney, I'm bloody glad to see you." 

Potter gestured behind him and a pack of Gryffindors shuffled forward out of the darkness, each holding the hand of the person in front of them to create a long chain led at the very front by Lily Evans holding her wand aloft while it pulsed a soft red light every few seconds.

Severus hurried to Evans' side. His voice was maybe a bit higher and softer than Dean was used to hearing it. "Lily, are you alright?"

She gave him a look that would have withered many a lesser man in his boots. "Oh, are you speaking to me again, Severus?"

"I was never not speaking to you, but it is awfully difficult to get past your entourage sometimes."

Lily waved her wand at Sam and Dean who were standing just to the side and keeping an eye out for stray Inferi. "As if you don't have your own little gang of miscreants keeping you busy these days. But I will say that at least this lot is a vast improvement over the crowd you were hanging out with last year."

Severus stood as still as a statue for several moments. "Yes, I think so, too. I'm... Lily, I'm sorry."

"Sorry feeling? Or just a sorry specimen in general?" 

Severus winced, contrition evident in his features even in the meager light of the waning moon. "A sorry specimen, of course. And an... an unworthy one, to put a finer point on it. Who is also very much feeling sorry as well."

Lily sighed dramatically. "Well. I'm not sure I want to forgive you just yet. But I AM glad you're safe."

Severus nodded quickly. "Me too. Glad that you're safe, I mean. Are we still... friends?"

"Of course we are, you dummy." Lily closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Severus' neck in a tight hug.

Dean turned his attention over to Lupin and Potter who were having their own hushed conversation.

Potter said, "I don't know where Padfoot and Wormtail are, but I grabbed everyone else I could. We left as soon as the lights went out. I thought I could lead us down to the Great Hall but now there's zombies attacking the tower and I'm not sure what to do."

Dean couldn't stop himself from interjecting, "Inferi. Zombies are a whole other can of worms. They smell different. And they're easier to kill, too. Well, not if you have a flamethrower or a fire spell that actually works, but... Right. Shutting up now."

Lupin looked down at his feet, steeling himself for something unpleasant. He looked up again and his face was as hardened as his voice, "James, I need to know if you had anything to do with this."

Potter flexed his jaw then averted his own gaze. "Right, I suppose I deserve that. I had nothing to do with the zom... with the Inferi in the castle. But Sirius and I WERE working on something we were calling the Black Out charm. But just as a prank! Something just big enough to douse the lights in a single room only. Nothing on this scale and certainly nothing to use as a siege weapon on the school."

"And how sure are you that this isn't what Sirius intended all along?"

"I'm absolutely certain that Sirius would never want to harm anyone--"

Lupin snarled and grabbed Potter by the front of the robes, lifted him and slammed his back into the stone wall, holding him up on his tiptoes.

"Really, James? You're CERTAIN, are you? Do I have to remind you that he absolutely WOULD harm people if it suited him? Or have you already forgotten about that little stunt he pulled? The one that could have gotten Snape killed? Him and Winchester and MYSELF, for that matter!"

Potter lifted a hand, not struggling against Lupin's grip, but trying to calm him with a friendly pat on the arm. "You know that's not what he intended."

Lupin snarled and pulled Potter away from the wall a fraction just so he could shove him against it again. "I don't CARE what he INTENDED! If you and Dean hadn't shown up and it was just Severus in that room with me, do you really think he would have survived unscathed? And if the worst HAD happened -- and if you were just moments later, it bloody well would have --  do you think I would have survived the aftermath unscathed? The inquiry into the death of a student? The backlash, the rage of the parents when it all got out? Because it would have gotten out, no ifs about it!" 

Lupin let go of Potter and stepped back, his body suddenly tired and drained of all the anger from a mere moment ago. "Maybe that's not what Sirius INTENDED, but a person who could just... cause the deaths of two or three people and ruin the lives of a handful more just for a bloody joke is absolutely capable of THIS!" He gestured around them. "Whatever THIS is," he said, rubbing his forehead as if he was trying to rub away a headache. 

Potter coughed and readjusted his tie, bracing himself against the wall behind him. He opened his mouth, then closed it, evidently at a loss for words. Dean would have been too. After another moment watching Potter struggle, Dean stepped forward. "Hey, uh..." Dean cleared his throat. "You okay, Snuffles?"

Lupin looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"Look, man, I am NOT calling you Mooney because that is literally the dumbest nickname I've ever heard. But are you feeling okay?"

Lupin chuffed out a weak laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine." 

Snape had extricated himself from Evans' hug and come up beside Lupin to brush his fingertips gently across the back of Lupin's hand. Lupin leaned toward him until their shoulders touched and Severus, surprisingly, didn't move away. In fact, he allowed the contact for a few moments before he maneuvered until he could meet Lupin's eyes. 

"Lupin, there is a time and a place to address this," Severus said, "but I daresay that in the dark with our lives in peril while in the midst of an actual zombie invasion might not be it."

Dean lifted a finger. "Inferi invasion, actually."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Not the point, Winchester."

"Ah. You're right, zombie invasion does sound so much cooler. Right, then. Carry on."

Severus continued, "Besides, I'm the one Black actually tried to kill. If I can find a way to set the grievance aside for a night, surely the most annoyingly kind-hearted of our group can as well?"

Lupin turned his hand over so he could slip his fingers between Snape's. "Maybe. But I reserve the right to remain angry about this later."

Severus nodded. "That is perfectly acceptable." He folded his free hand around their already entwined fingers. It was the most overtly affectionate display of affection that Dean could recall seeing from Snape in his whole time at Hogwarts. "And... I might admit," Snape continued, "under duress mind you... that not EVERY circumstance that came about as a direct result of that particularly odious prank was an entirely awful one."

Dean groaned. "Hey, now. Why do you get to be the ones to hold a grudge? Black may have put you in danger, but he damned well bit the shit out of me; if anyone gets dibs on giving him the ass kicking of his life, it's me. But Sev is right, we've got bigger fish to fry right now." Dean braced his hands on his hips. "And while we're on the subject, I'd just like to mention that not all of us got the singular joy of improving our sex lives as a result of that night, so if you two chuckleheads could rein in the tooth-rotting fluffy stuff, some of us would appreciate it."

If looks could kill, Dean was certain that Severus would have happily stood over his grave. "Fluffy stuff? Are you absolutely certain you want to go there, Winchester? Because I've been watching you and your Ravenclaw pine over each other. All. Sodding. Year. And I have to say that it's been rather on the near side of intolerable." 

Lily put her hand on Severus' shoulder for a moment. "Boys! Can we do this somewhere safer?" She moved to stand by Potter, where the other Gryffindor's still stood. Dean had very nearly forgotten they were there. 

"Right," he coughed. "We were going to come get you and lead you down to the Hufflepuff dorm. We can keep everyone safe there until the teachers can sort out the Black Out Charm, the Inferi infiltration... and the Death Eater fan club when they get a chance. All I can say is we better all be getting like a million points of extra credit on our O.W.L.s for this."

Potter cleared his throat. "Thank you, Winchester. This means a lot."

"Naw, man. Don't worry about it." 

"No, really. What Sirius did was wrong and I've never apologized for letting it get out of hand."

"Seems to me, you're not the one who has to apologize."

"All the same. If he IS responsible, if it is the Black Out Charm that's causing all of our troubles here, then maybe he can help us counter it somehow. Even if he isn't completely innocent, I have to believe... or hope at least... that he's redeemable. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it. So, what's the play?"

Severus spoke first. "Sam and I should get the Slytherins as we discussed."

Lupin looked at Potter. "I think James and I need to go find Sirius. We can find a way to talk to him and find out what happened. If we can undo this charm, then maybe we can clean up the Inferi a bit easier."

Potter readjusted his glasses. "Right. Winchester, if you're still willing to host us all...?"

"Of course. The more the merrier. I'll take Evans and the Gryffindors down and get them settled. After that, I'm heading up to Ravenclaw tower to find Cas and make sure they're safe up there. Anybody got any questions? No? Then, let's kick it in the ass, shall we?"

Evans gave Potter a quick peck on the cheek. "Stay safe, will you?" She looked at Severus, "That goes the same for you." 

Severus pulled Lupin aside and stared into his eyes before sighing softly and pressing their foreheads together. Lupin wrapped his arms around Severus and held him silently. 

Dean punched Sam lightly in the arm. "Keep your eyes open and remember what dad taught us. Listen to Snape and watch his back, so he can watch out for the rest of you. You got it?"

"Yeah, Dean, I got it. Not my first brush with this stuff, remember?"

"Yeah, kid, I remember. I just worry."

"Well, don't. We got this."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face.  "Yeah, I know." Everybody had said their 'See ya soon's and began to split up.

Severus and Sam took off to the other side of the courtyard, to circle as much of the castle as they could in the moonlight before braving the pitch black halls again. Potter shifted into his stag form and Lupin was quick to clamber onto his back. Together they bounded through the doors and disappeared.

That just left Dean and the Gryffindors. "Okay, everyone. Keep close and be careful." He took Lily Evans by the hand and led the students back into the castle and towards the safety of the Hufflepuff dorm.

Chapter Text

It didn't take long to get the Gryffindors situated in the Hufflepuff dorm with a few more students able to summon a Patronus to light the common room. 

He was also able to let the other Hufflepuff prefect know that the Slytherins were on their way as well.

Now he was climbing the big staircase that led up to the towers, his badger claws clacking loudly against the steps as he followed his nose. There was a group of Inferi nearby that he was hoping to avoid, and so far his nose was doing a good enough job of steering him clear of them. When he reached the floor where the entrance to the teacher's quarters was, Dean's nose twitched. There were a lot of Inferi on this floor. More than Dean was comfortable passing by, if the teachers needed help. 

The indecision prickled at him and in the end, Dean decided that he should at least look and see what the situation there was. He looked across to the hallway, but not seeing anything menacing in the dark. The night vision potion was still working, but he maybe had only a handful of minutes left before it wore off and he'd have to take another. But for now, he would be fine. He trotted forward, nose on a swivel. 

When he reached the intersection, he slowed, inching forward till he could peek around the corner. Dean wasn't surprised to see at least a dozen of the Inferi milling about outside the door to the teacher's quarters. What he was surprised to see was a gigantic wall of ice blocking the door. If any teachers were awake to notice  when the lights had gone out, there would be no way to unfreeze the door without some sort of heat source. And even if they could make it through the dark and figure out what was keeping the door stuck fast, there would be a pack Inferi waiting to tear them to pieces. 

Unfortunately, Dean didn't think that he could get through all of the Inferi by himself, let alone the gigantic block of ice over the door. When he turned his head this way and that, he could see the extra shimmery quality to the outer layer that identified it as the sort of magic ice that wouldn't respond well to blunt force. Those were the stupid sort of puzzle spell that actually required a specific element or puzzle solution to make them open in the same way that a lock requires a key. Dean would bet everything he owned that this one needed the one specific thing they couldn't use right now.

He would have to return with help. If Sam or Potter could help, they'd have a better chance of clearing out the Inferi and maybe getting a closer look at the ice wall. Or maybe if Potter and Lupin were able to find and deal with Black before he got back, the Black Out Charm would no longer be a hinderance; then he could just flamethrower the whole room and be done with it. 

Later. He would have to come back later.

Dean slowly and as silently as he could shuffled backwards, trying not to draw their attention. He would come back after he found Cas. The entrance to the Ravenclaw tower was still a couple floors up. 

He was just pulling his badger body up the last stair to the landing when his ears picked up the sounds of fighting, the shuffling moaning sounds of the Inferi and the unmistakable, gut wrenching sound of Castiel shouting angrily. 

Cold dread punched Dean in the stomach and squeezed the air from his lungs. His claws scrabbled for purchase on the smooth marble flooring. He wanted to scream to Cas to hang on, that he was coming to help, but all that came out was an angry badger shriek. He galloped down the corridor and raced around the corner. 

Flashes of light nearly blinded him after so much time wandering through the castle in near complete darkness and the scent of smoldering corpses coated the inside of his nose. 

When Dean's eyes had adjusted to the blinding lights, he could make out several dark mounds littered around the atrium landing with more piled at the foot of the stairs that climbed up to Ravenclaw's common room doorway. A deep sniff revealed them to be the charred remains of Inferi that had succumbed to intense flames. 

There were still a dozen or so of the creatures clambering up the steps towards Castiel, who stood alone in front of the grand wings of the imposing stone eagle that protected the doorway.

When an Inferius got too close, Cas held his hand straight out in front of him, just like Iron Man from the comic books Dean used to steal from gas stations as a kid. Cas shouted and his palm shimmered with painfully bright light before a fireball lanced forward and caught the Inferius square in the chest, the force of it launching it backwards into the monster behind it, engulfing them both in flames and knocking them off the stairway. 

Judging by the sheer number of bodies strewn about the atrium, Cas had been holding his own for a while, but Dean could see even with his crappy as hell badger vision that Cas was looking disheveled, drenched with sweat and soot, and fighting through exhaustion. 

Dean knew a couple of things without a shadow of a doubt; one, that Cas was hot as hell at the best of times, but somehow even moreso when he was singlehandedly holding off an invading horde of zombies, and two, Dean wasn't going to let him fight alone for even a second longer.

He snarled and lunged over the pile of corpses at the bottom of the stairs and scrambled up until he could grab one by the Achilles tendon and rip it down and away, essentially jerking the thing off the stairway. He used his claws as traction to clamber over the creature's back and launch himself at the next one. Another burning Inferius tumbled downwards and Dean pressed himself against the wall to avoid being knocked off himself. 

"Dean?"

Cas' voice sounded as rough and pained as if he'd swallowed an entire box of gravel and broken glass.

Dean grabbed another and dragged it downwards until it fell and he could rip it to pieces with his claws and teeth. One of the others he had attacked had made it to its feet and Dean jumped at it, shoving it backwards to land on one of the flaming piles where it immediately caught fire itself. 

There was only one more standing between him and Cas and Dean screeched a war cry and tackled it, digging at its neck until the head just wasn't attached anymore.

"Dean..." Cas sounded relieved and so tired. He sank to his knees and Dean raced to catch him, making the shift between badger and human in his fastest time yet. He caught Cas in his arms just before he pitched forward down the stairs. 

"Cas! I'm here. I've got you, man," Dean said.

"Dean... I'm tired..."

"Hey, that's alright. You're safe. I'm here. I've got you." Dean tried to laugh, but he couldn't be sure how well he succeeded. "Looks like you've been busy up here, huh?"

"I didn't know what happened. I came to look... But there were Inferi... I wanted to find you, but there were so many... and I couldn't leave the tower undefended, nobody else could see or use the right spells. I didn't know if you, or Sam, or Severus..." Cas' breath hitched. "I didn't know and I was so... so scared, Dean."

He held Castiel in his arms, squeezing tightly, as if both their lives depended on it,  while the other boy leaned into him, limp and trembling from exhaustion. 

"It's okay, Cas. I've been scared, too. But you know what doesn't scare me?"

He felt Castiel tense up, and he tried to soothe him by rubbing circles on his back, but it wasn't quite the smooth robed back that he was expecting. Dean's hand came in direct contact with the wings that Castiel had been hiding for who knew how long. Now that he knew to look for something, he could even see the vague shimmer of an enchantment catching the light of the veela fire still burning on the Inferi corpses. 

One thing that Dean knew for certain was that Cas had been hiding his wings and Dean didn't know for how long he'd been doing it. He swallowed hard, the thought sticking uncomfortably in his throat.

Instead of rubbing circles on Cas' back, his fingers began stroking softly along the feathers. They were smooth and silky, and if Dean carded his fingertips between them, he could feel the bone of the wing underneath. It was actually... Well, if Dean was being completely honest, it was insanely cool and he wanted to spend hours figuring out if it was the light touches to the bone or the preening of the feathers that made Cas lose every ounce of tension in his body and melt against him.

Dean swallowed and tried again. "You know what doesn't scare me, Cas? Coming around that corner and seeing you standing up there freaking dominating these things like the freaking badass that you are. Nobody else in the castle can cast fire right now, but there you are fighting them off with freaking veela fire." 

Dean could feel Castiel flinch and tense up again, but he kept his fingers gentle and continued to stroke through the silky feathers of the wing he could feel but couldn't see because HE had made Cas feel afraid or ashamed and Dean hated himself so much in that moment it was hard to breathe, but he swallowed and kept speaking because he HAD to get this out. "And I just feel like the stupidest asshole in the world for not telling you every single day how freaking awesome you are, Cas. But maybe I can make up for it by telling you now how relieved I am that you're such a badass and that you can keep yourself and everyone around you safe, and how freaking grateful I am that you are... whatever it is that makes you... just... YOU... and gives you the power to fight these things off because I don't know what I would have done if I'd gotten here and you weren't... and you weren't..."

That was it. That was all Dean could say before all the stupid, crazy emotions from today, starting with Lupin's werewolf revelation in the library that evening, and having his entire grasp on reality upended by seeing Cas' wings in the bathroom, and the frantic call to Bobby that had been cut short, and the desperate tug of war between his need to see that his family -- all of them, not just Sammy -- was safe and the need to ensure that everyone else stayed safe, and the stupid Inferi, and the stupid darkness. Dean tried so hard not to just break down and bawl like a twelve year old girl, but the need to let some of the emotion out turned into a sob, then two, then three. 

The stroking of his fingers through Cas' feathers turned instead to clutching for dear life. Dean vaguely hoped in the back of his head that he wasn't hurting his friend, but then the bone shifted under his hand and Cas turned in his arms, then suddenly the feathers were EVERYWHERE. Dean could feel them on his head, the sides of his face, his arms. Cas had wrapped his wings around them both, and even though Dean could only kind of see the enchantment that kept them invisible, he could FEEL them, and he was absolutely surrounded. It was warm and soft and it was Dean's turn to relax completely against Cas.

Cas held him wrapped up in his wings until Dean didn't feel like he was coming apart at the seams anymore. 

His voice was a low rumble next to Dean's ear. "What makes you think I'm a veela? Specifically."

Dean laughed and raked his fingers gently down the fluffy inside feathers of a wing; Dean couldn't tell if the resulting sound was a purr or a growl, but both wings tightened around him. 

When he spoke again, Cas sounded perturbed, "That doesn't count. Wings could be caused by any number of things. Transfiguration gone wrong, potion gone wrong... Animagus charm gone wrong."

"True, but you were twitchy about them even before we tried that charm. Come on, Cas, you gotta give me SOME credit. I can be an idiot sometimes, but even I can connect the dots when you smack enough of them in my face."

Cas groaned. "I didn't mean to keep it from you. Just --"

Dean forced himself to interrupt before Cas really had a chance to get going. "Yeah, I get it. But we can hash our way through this chick flick moment later when we've got better mood lighting than a bunch of burning corpses."

The wings unwrapped themselves and Dean sighed, already missing the warmth. 

"Alright," Dean said. "Here's what's gonna happen. As soon as we sort this out, we sit down and sort US out, capisce?"

Cas nodded solemnly. "Capisce."

"Now, how much veela mojo do you still have in the tank? Are you tapped out or do you still have some fireballs left in you?"

"I am very tired, Dean," Cas said. "But I think I can manage a few more."

"Good, cause we're gonna need them to get the teachers out of lockdown. Come on." Dean stood and hefted Castiel to his feet. Cas wobbled a bit but held him firm until he could catch his balance.

"Ready?" 

"Yes. No, wait. Do you hear that?"

Dean held his breath and listened. Footsteps from the corridor, but not the uneven shuffling steps of the Inferi.

Dean flicked his wand into his hand and held it at the ready. 

"Whoever's out there, you got three seconds to identify yourself before I start flinging pain in your direction!"

A voice that Dean was none too happy to hear called out, "Hold your damned fire, Winchester! I come in peace, for Merlin's sake."

A second later none other than Sirius Black himself emerged from the darkness.

Chapter Text

Dean kept his wand trained at Black's face, anger boiling up inside him. "Dammit to hell, Black! I ought to shoot you on principle! And not with a wand, either!"

Black held his hands up, palms out to show he wasn't armed. "Yes, yes, Winchester, go ahead and shoot me. You have my permission, even. Shoot me ten times if it makes you feel better. But do it later. Right now, I need you to come with me."

Dean didn't lower his wand a centimeter. 

"Excuse me? I could have sworn you just said you need something from me, which is hilarious because the only thing I think you need from me is a one way ticket to the hospital wing."

"Cute, but we really can sort out the details of you beating me into submission later, whereas I absolutely need you to come with me right now. So, please, can you just take an I.O.U. or a rain check so we can get going?"

Cas' voice was intimidating even without the death stare Dean knew was zeroing in on Black's soul. "You still haven't explained why you want us to go with you."

Dean added, "Or why we even should, for that matter. From what Potter says, this darkness charm is all your doing. It's not a terribly big jump to assume the Inferi are your doing as well."

Black shook his head, distress evident in his posture. "I had nothing to do with the Inferi OR with the way my spell is being used! That's why I'm here! I need you to help me fix this mess."

"That sounds like exactly the sort of thing you would say to get us to lower our guard."

Black threw his hands up, clearly frustrated. "Can't you just..."

"Just what? Come along like good little gullible marks? Follow your lead to another --" Dean choked up and coughed. He coughed until tears came to his eyes in spite of the sudden comforting hand on his back. "Dammit, Dumbledore," he choked out, trying to clear his throat and gulp in oxygen at the same time. "I hate him AND this damned muzzle crap!"

When Dean looked up, he could see that Cas had turned the full force of his blue-eyed stare onto Dean. "What muzzle crap?"

Dean growled in frustration. "The thing I can't tell you about because Dumbledore won't let me."

Cas frowned. "Dumbledore won't let... He cast a geas on you?"

"How does everyone know about those things but me?"

Cas licked his lips, his eyebrows scrunched up in concerned puzzlement. "It's possible that they're not as common in North America where other forms of compulsion magic are more prevalent. Dean, are you saying that the Headmaster FORCED a compulsion on you? That is unbelievably unethical."

"Yeah, well, I'm more concerned that it's been unbelievably inconvenient, but thanks, Cas."

"But, Dean, whatever happened... being unable to talk about it... that could seriously compound a person's negative responses and limit your ability to process and recover from your trauma."

Before Dean could respond, Black groaned dramatically, "Oh my boggart's buggering bollocks! Therapy later, can we please? Help now! In case you hadn't noticed, it's pretty bloody urgent?"

Dean ground his teeth. "I guess you would know that better than anyone, wouldn't you? Seeing as you're the reason we're all in this whole damned mess?"

"Bleeding hell, it wasn't me! That's what I'm trying to tell you! I didn't sign on for this bloody buggering shit! None of it! Not my doing! At least not all of it."

"Okay, Fleas-R-Us. Say I did believe you, which I don't, who IS responsible if the fingers don't all point straight at you?"

"Peter! It was Peter,  alright?" Black turned away from Dean and Cas, hands digging into his hair and tugging at the locks in frustration, making him look quite disheveled when he turned back. "Look, I didn't know what he was... or why... Hell, I STILL don't know why... But this isn't what I wanted!"

"Well, that just makes everything a hundred percent better, wouldn't you say, Cas?" 

Cas tilted his head. "Actually, Dean, I don't believe Mr. Black's intentions have changed our situation at all."

"Oh, it HASN'T improved?" Dean's voice dripped with as much sarcasm as he could load into each word, a trick that he may or may not have picked up from being friends with Severus. "You mean because we're still stuck in the dark, with a magical damper on fire and light spells, surrounded by undead corpses that are only really vulnerable to fire, which we can'5 freaking use--"

Cas interrupted, "And dismemberment. You dismembered a couple of them quite well as I recall."

"Okay, fire and dismemberment, then."

Cas nodded. "That does summarize our situation nicely. And Mr. Black's feelings on the subject haven't changed any of those circumstances. Not appreciably, at least."

"Right you are, Cas. You see, Black, the point is that this may not be what you wanted, but this is what we have to deal with, so how the hell are you gonna fix it? And don't get cute by saying that if we just follow you around the corner, everything will be good as new. Cause I've got no reason to trust you and I will happily spend the next several minutes of my life taking  my frustration with tonight out on your sorry ass."

Black's shoulders slumped. "I can't fix it by myself. I would if I could, but Peter has the counter charm. Half of the counter charm, anyway. He's hiding in the Undercroft, the little rat, but the door is blocked by an ice wall and I can't get past it; not without fire, which I cannot use, as you so cleverly pointed out. That's why I need your help." He pointed at Cas. "As far as I know, Novak, here, is the only one in the castle who can get past the barricade."

Dean scoffed. "Well, isn't that just convenient?" 

Black gestured at the smoking, burning corpses. "When Peter and I were designing the charm, neither of us thought to include a provision for creature-produced flames in the spell--"

"He's not a damned CREATURE, you dildo," Dean growled.

Both of the other boys blinked at him, taken aback by Dean's surliness. Black continued. "No, you're right, he's not. But he still slipped through the loophole and thank Merlin for that. Look, you have to believe me. I wouldn't want... it was all just supposed to be a prank. Dump a room or two into total darkness maybe during the O.W.L.s, piss off a lot of teachers, startle a lot of students. It was supposed to be a PRANK, for Circe's tits! NOTHING like this! It never occurred to me that Peter of all people..." Black took a shaky breath. "He wants to be a Death Eater, you know? He thinks that if he can impress the Dark Lord with this stunt, that maybe... Dammit, I don't know. That... that... that he'll be safer, I guess? That if he's on the Dark Lord's side, he won't be in the line of fire? I just don't know how it all went so wrong. What the hell happened?"

Dean looked at Cas to see how he was reacting to the sob story. Cas was concentrating especially hard, a frown creasing that spot between his eyebrows.

"He seems to be in earnest, Dean."

"And I seem to be of the mind that I don't give a shit that he's unhappy his actions have consequences! He can stew in his guilty feelings crap for the rest of his life for all I care! He's an asshole!" 

Cas turned his head to STARE at Dean. "But you're not."

Dean stared back, letting the moment stretch until the tension snapped like a too tight piece of twine. "Dammit!" He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up even worse than the constant shape changing and fighting had already done. "Why do you have to be right?"

"I'm a Ravenclaw." 

Dean closed his eyes, chuckling softly. Anything louder could have easily turned into hysteria; Dean could feel it simmering just under the surface of his skin. "Yeah, no kidding." 

Dean shook his head then turned to Black. "Okay, Dog-breath. What's the play?"

"I told you; I need Novak to shoot some of those fireballs so we can melt the ice blocking the way into the undercroft."

"Yeah, I caught that part, actually, but what happens next?"

"What do you mean?"

"Welll... is Pettigrew alone or is he shacked up in there with the other Death Eater wannabe's that smugglef the inferi into the castle? They came in through the Slytherin dungeon, so I can take an educated guess as to who made that happen, but did they go off to hide on their own or did they all pick the same hideout?"

Black frowned, but didn't interrupt, so Dean continued, "And then, how do we keep Pettigrew from scampering off? I assume he's an animagus like you and Potter? Assuming we go in with a blaze of fire and ruckus, what's to keep him from spooking and..." Dean wiggled his fingers in a suitably vague gesture. He couldn't actually remember if anybody HAD said what Pettigrew's animagus form was -- in his defense, he'd had a lot on his mind recently -- and didn't know if a bounding, skittering, slithering, or swooping mode of locomotion was the best choice for illustrative purposes, but a suitably vague finger wiggle could mean so many different things.

"He is." Black chuckled darkly, "A rat, if you can believe it."

"Well. At least there's only nine hundred million places a rat can hide in this castle. So, how do we keep him from giving us the slip?" 

Black thought for a moment. "If he does... I have a way of tracking him." He tapped the side of his own nose. 

Dean nodded, acknowledging the dog angle he hadn't considered. Come to think of it, his own badger nose was pretty insane as well.

"And if worse comes to worst," Black continued, "I might have a way... something that could help us find him in the castle, even if we do lose him. But Remus has it with him, and I might need to do an awful lot of apologizing to get him to let me use it." Black winced.

Dean couldn't help wincing as well, knowing first hand just how awful it was to admit you were wrong to a friend. 

Cas was the one who asked, "How much apologizing?" 

"Do you remember that time in Potions class when we learned that a butt is an actual unit of measurement?"

Dean snorted. How could anybody forget?

Cas took the bait and asked, "Are you saying you owe Remus a buttload of apologies?"

"Several. I owe Remus several buttloads of apologies."

Cas looked at Dean. "This sounds quite serious, Dean."

Dean knew where this was going and nipped that shit right in the bud. He  pointed a finger at Black, "Don't you dare fucking say it, you asshole, or I'm breaking your nose and taking our chances alone."

Black snapped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked together and raised his hands placatingly.

Dean continued, "Would this thing that could help you find Pettigrew, could it help us to know if he's alone in the undercroft? It'd be nice to know we aren't charging into a room full of people who may or may not be fine with killing us. But if we are, it'd also be nice to know how many there are so we don't get jumped by anyone hiding in the dark."

Black nodded.

Dean cajoled him a bit, "Do you think maybe you could apologize now and have him put the other buttloads he's owed on a charge account?"

Black took a breath, then bit his lip and nodded again. His voice was quiet, "I'd have to find him first, though."

Cas pulled out his wand. "That shouldn't be a problem. A patronus charm can send a message over a great distance. We can simply ask Lupin and Potter to meet us at the entrance to the undercroft with whatever object it is that can help."

Dean laughed. "Simple? How the hell is that simple, Cas? I've never been able to cast one, that's for sure. Can you?"

Cas smiled. "Of course I can. I just have to remember the first time we kissed."

Dean's eyebrows nearly pulled a muscle, first shooting up in surprise, then plunging into a confused frown. "But, Cas, we've never--"

The breath was stolen from his body as he was unceremoniously shoved against the stone wall behind him. Cas' lips were on his own, hot and sweet and stealing every thought from his brain except how much stronger Cas was then he would have given him credit for, how his fingers were shooting zaps of electricity into his scalp as they dragged up through his hair, how the firm pressure of Cas's thigh against his groin was sending all the blood in his body rushing from every extremity except one. 

Damn, it was good. 

And all the while, that mouth never stopped, mingling all the energy between them and alchemizing it into the very substance that magic was made of. 

Dean was weak in the knees and his brain was misfiring like an engine with worn out spark plugs, and DAMN, it was good. Dean moaned into the kiss, and was more disappointed than words could say when it stopped, but Cas eased the sting of separation with another, softer kiss to the lips, almost as if he was kissing the hurt better. 

Cas' voice was a husky whisper. "See? I told you it was a good memory." 

Dean leaned back against the wall, breathless and speechless as Cas swished his wand and sent a silvery, honey badger-shaped Patronus trotting off into the darkness with his tail errect and a jaunt in his step.

Chapter Text

Dean sat cross-legged on the floor, back propped against the wall and holding tight onto Cas' hand as they all sat in the dark hallway outside the entrance to the undercroft together, waiting for Lupin and Potter to make their way there.

"I spy... with my little eye... something... beginning with B." 

Black's voice was not amused. "Winchester, you're not as funny as you think you are." 

"Shut your face, I'm freaking hilarious."

Cas, on the other hand, was taking the game completely seriously. "Is it the bicorn skeleton on the other side of the hallway? If it is, I don't know how you can see it from here."

Dean chuckled. "Don't ever change, man."

A glow from somewhere above them had Dean craning his neck to look up towards the upper hallways. The glow was getting brighter. He squeezed Cas' hand and stood, inching toward the staircase that led up to... well, one of the towers. There really were a lot of towers in the castle and Dean had gotten a bit turned around in the dark, he wasn't too ashamed to admit. 

The bright, vibrant light of Cas' honey badger patronus came galumphing down the stairs and then trotted over to their group and laid down at Cas' feet. The stately form of Potter's deer shape came bounding down the stairs soon after with Lupin clinging for dear life to his back. They were then followed closely by Dean's truly enormous, hulking moose of a brother with a crow perched nonchalantly on the largest antler tine.

"Well, Potter, I never thought I'd say this, but you look like a million bucks. Get it? A million bucks... cause of... the... yeah."

Cas looked at Dean. "I don't understand. How does he look like a million male deer?"

Lupin's voice was a little strained as he slipped off Potter's back, "I think I'm starting to get the hang of identifying his Americanisms, Novak, but I still haven't the foggiest idea what he means by them."

The deer did a full body shake, starting from the nose and shivering back through his haunches. Apparently he didn't enjoy carrying Lupin as much as Lupin hadn't enjoyed riding him. Muscles shaken and stretched, the stag reared back onto its hind quarters and shifted back into Potter.

The crow launched off of Sam's antler and shifted in midair, landing with a dramatic flourish of his robes. "As near as I can tell," Severus said, "bucks have nothing to do with any sort of deer, actually, and one buck is roughly the equivalent of a quid in American parlance." 

Dean would ask him later how many times he'd practiced that change in the scant hour or two since they'd seen each other last to make that transition look so much smoother. For now, he was content to let Severus just look hella freaking cool in front of three of the people who'd made his life hell for so long. 

Catching a glimpse of Lupin, wide-eyed and struggling to swallow, he thought he might have to amend his assessment just a bit regarding who Severus was showing off for.

"Alright! So!" Dean clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly, warming up his muscles for the throwdown that was coming up. "Who's ready to go kill some zombies, huh?"

"Dude!" Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

Dean yelped and Sam used his momentary startlement to drag him sideways by the arm. "What the hell, Sammy?"

"Don't you think you should give them some time to sort out some stuff first?"

"Stuff? What stuff?" Dean looked back to where Black was shuffling out from the edges of the darkness with a hang-dog expression on his face, the very picture of contrite apology. "Ooooh. That stuff."

Lupin looked like he wanted to punch Black in the face, but James beat him to it. Not just a little punch that a person could shrug off, but a fully fledged haymaker with the entire weight of his body lined up behind it to drive it home, the sort of punch that broke bones and even knocked a man out cold if you connected in the right spot. 

"Oh, damn!" Dean winced in sympathy as Sirius fumbled back into the wall before crumpling into a sprawl on the ground. He hadn't been prepared for it and that's probably what saved him from a broken jaw, being too startled to stiffen up and brace for impact.

Potter shook his hand out, flexed his fingers, while Black slowly sat up, rubbing the side of his jaw. "Well?" Potter demanded. "Are you finished?"

Sirius blinked up at him. "Finished with what?"

"With being such a git-faced, prat-brained, fucking wanker of an arsehole."

"Umm," Sirius took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly, his voice sounding quiet and small. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm finished, Prongs."

Potter looked at Lupin, a communication between them that Dean could see, but couldn't interpret. Then he held out his hand and waited for Black to take it before hauling him to his feet. They were just starting up with the teary-eyed back patting all around, so Dean turned his attention to his own friends. 

"Not to be callous, but holy shit, did you see that right hook? I kinda get why Evans is into him. No offense, Sev."

Severus rolled his eyes, an action that somehow required the use of his whole body. "If I took offense at every idiotic thing you said, Winchester, I wouldn't have time to sleep.'

Cas just stared at him, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You're taken, Dean."

Dean swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in his mouth.

"Well, yeah, of course, I mean..." He laughed, hoping it didn't sound like the embarrassed giggle it undoubtedly was. "Is it hot in here? Anybody? Just me, then?"

Dean cleared his throat loudly, then made a hasty forward retreat towards the Marauders and clapped a hand on Lupin's shoulder.

"Okay, team! All sorted out? Great! So, what's the play here? Thoughts? Ideas? Secret weapons you've been saving for a rainy day?"

Dean didn't have to look to know that Severus, Cas, and Sam were all behind him. His chest felt heavy and fluttery at the same time, knowing his family had his back. And he had theirs. And then he felt Cas' wing brush against his arm and the fluttery sensation exploded and he couldn't wait to kick some ass.

Potter and Lupin looked at Black. "The Black Out charm is tied to one of those Muggle devices we learned about in Muggle Studies that works like a lumos charm. The ones that shine light when you turn them on."

"You're talking about a... what? A flashlight?" Dean hadn't seen the point in taking Muggle Studies. 

Black shook his head. "No, that thing that Professor Bigsby brought in for the lesson on portable electricity, like with radios and things. But this one was a light."

"Yeah, a flashlight."

"It wasn't a flashlight; he called it something else."

"A portable electric light that you can turn on and off is a fucking flashlight, douche nozzle."

Severus spoke up, "He means a torch, Black. And yes, Winchester, he IS talking about a flashlight. We're all equally enthralled with our many and various cultural differences, I'm sure, but can we press on with it? As amusing as it is, I've better things to do with my night than listen to you squabble over linguistics."

"Right," Black sneered. "Snivellus would much rather be playing with his chemistry set."

"No, actually." Severus countered. "Not that a  paramecium-brained inbreed like yourself would know what it's like to have a significant other to occupy your time with, but I would much rather be getting thoroughly snogged by your best mate, now you mention it."

Dean snorted. "Ooh, burn."

Black growled, "Shut it, Winchester. And jokes on you, Snivelly; no offense to Remus, but James is my best mate."

Potter's voice was strained, "Not anymore, Siri. Not if you can't stow it long enough to clean up this mess."

Black dropped his head, then shook himself. "Right. So. The Black Out charm is triggered by a torch and Peter has it. If we corner him and force him to hand it over, I should be able to end the spell and get the lights working again."

Dean nodded. "So, we corner him and get the flashlight, or the torch, whatever... How certain are you that he's in there?"

Lupin didn't hesitate. "Absolutely certain. The map doesn't lie. He's in there by himself pacing around."

"How many exits do we have to cover?"

"Just the one entrance here."

"You're sure?" Dean asked.

Lupin looked at Black. Black shrugged. "As sure as I can be, but it is Hogwarts. It does surprise me sometimes. I've never found another exit, though."

"Cool, so Cas blasts the magic ice freezing the door shut with his fireball, then the rest of us charge in and intimidate the shit out of your little weasel of a friend until he gives in and hands over the thing. Anything else I should know?"

Potter chuckled. "Well, there is one thing. He's not a weasel. More of a rat." 

Dean blinked a couple times. "What? Oh! Yeah, yeah, knew that part already. You guys are way too eager to throw that joke around for someone who was supposedly your friend."

Dean didn't wait to see if that barb stuck the landing. He turned to Cas, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You good, Cas? I think we're about ready for that fireball you've been saving."

Cas looked about as serious as he always did, but somehow even more intense if such a thing was possible. "Of course, Dean." 

Dean was going to have to buy a thesaurus if he was to have any hope of describing all the different levels of gazing Cas could accomplish, but at least he was starting to recognize the differences. This gaze meant that whatever the next few minutes brought their way, Cas was determined not to let him down. 

Dean smiled, swallowing hard against the lump forming in his throat. He moved his hand to rub down his shoulder, down his back until his fingertips could brush ever so lightly against the warm, feather-covered bone of a wing that he'd only ever caught one glimpse of, but desperately wanted to see again. "If I haven't told you yet how freaking awesome you are--"

"I know, Dean."

And then, because Dean felt he hadn't done it nearly as much as he needed to, he pulled Cas into a tight hug that lasted long enough that Severus made a point to clear his throat louder than necessary.

Cas pulled away and Dean reluctantly let him go. Cas stood in front of the door, shaking his limbs and taking several deep breaths. Then he went still and stared at his hand. 

Nothing seemed to be happening, but he bit his lip and Dean could see droplets of sweat building up and rolling down the side of his face. Cas' hand started to shake and he seemed to stop breathing the way you tended to when you were shoving a too heavy car part into place and trying to fasten the bolts at the same time when it was really a two person job. Not that Dean had experience trying to stubborn his way through a project when he knew it was teetering just on the verge of being within his power to do by himself. 

With a gasp, all the strain and tension snapped and Cas bent over, sucking in huge gulps of air. He might have pitched forward onto his face if Dean hadn't lunged forward and caught him, holding him up or holding him close, or maybe even a combination of the two.

"Whoah, whoah, whoa. I got you, buddy. You okay?"

Cas trembled in his arms, and Dean couldn't help feeling like he had draped himself across an overheating and misfiring engine. Cas nodded his head, the motion quick and jerky, while he choked out between gulps of air, "I might be... closer to my limit... than I had originally thought..."

Cas' legs buckled beneath him and Dean held him tighter, supporting him as they sunk down to the floor together. "S'okay. I got you. I got you, man. Just take a moment." Dean stroked his fingers through Cas' hair, tucking some of the sweatier locks back so they weren't sticking uncomfortably to his face. Cas closed his eyes and rested his head against Dean's shoulder.

Black's unwelcome voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard to Dean's psyche, "Are you kidding me? In case you haven't noticed, we haven't got a whole lot of moments to spare! And now we need to find him a damn fainting couch?"

Dean growled, "Nobody asked you, fleabag, so why don't you shut your pie hole?"

Potter sighed. "Didn't we JUST agree to a truce?"

"Hey, I'm not the one bitching cause his Deus Ex Machina needs a breather! He's fucking exhausted! Cas may be just a convenient Hail Mary to you lot, but he's MY fucking boyfriend, so lay off!" Dean flexed his jaw, not even bothering to shift his glare away from his nemesis to address his brother who was making some kind of strangled sound behind. "Got  something to say, Sam?"

"No! No, nothing. Just... just didn't know you knew what a Deus Ex Machina was, is all."

"Course I do. It's the thing that happens at the end of Star Wars."

"Umm...."

"When the Millenium Falcon swoops in like a freaking space impala and saves the day."

"That's not exactly what a--"

Severus nudged Sam in the ribs. "Shush. He's really rather close, I think we should give him this one."

Sam chuckled. "Okay, maybe. But seriously, Dean? A space impala?"

"Yeah, an impala. One of those cute little antelopes in Africa that could probably do a Kessel Run in 12 parsecs or whatever if it was a spaceship."

"Right. You sure it's not dad's muscle car that you're trying to compare to a spaceship?"

"Hey, dad's car is awesome. You know what? Shut up. I'm not talking to you anymore."

Dean hadn't stopped stroking Cas' arm and shoulder, but Cas HAD finally stopped shaking. Dean cradled the side of his face and brushed his thumb up along the sharp line of one cheekbone. Cas' eyes fluttered open and locked onto Dean's.

Dean smiled gently. "Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean."

"You doing okay? Ready to try again?" 

"I, uh... I think so."

"Good. I'll help you this time. Come on." Dean helped Cas to his feet. He made sure he was steady, then maneuvered his arm underneath Cas' wings until he could press his palm flat against Cas' back, right between the shoulder blades, right between the base of his wings and just about level with his heart. 

This was one of those spells that Dean struggled to cast if he had to do it by waving his wand around. When he first read it in one of the more advanced spell books, he knew it would be a useful one to have in his hunter tool box, but he could never get his brain to stop thinking of it like charging a battery or using a defibrillator. This spell had always seemed like it needed to be more hands on than swish and flick, so he'd found his own way to cast the spell. Dean's right hand gripped his wand tightly. "On three?"

Cas nodded, then raised his hand and took a deep breath. Dean focused on his left palm and the grip he had on his wand. Dean felt Cas' muscles tense up, and he said, "Rennervate," and began channeling as much energy as he could safely manage to charge Cas up and give him the boost he needed to power the spell. 

When Dean had just about reached his battery charging limit, Cas began to glow, a beautiful golden light filling him up and spilling out of his celestial bright eyes. Slowly, the light flickered and guttered and then formed into a tiny marble of fire in the palm of his hand that flickered and fluttered and grew bigger by spurts and sputters until it was almost the size of a golf ball. 

The light was blinding and Dean's eyes teared up when his gaze was drawn to the wall where the shadowy silhouette of Cas' wings could be seen contrasting beautifully against the golden light that was everywhere. It was beautiful. THEY were beautiful and Dean thought for the dozenth time that night that he had to see them again. Somehow, some way, he had to see those magnificent wings again. "You're beautiful, Cas."

The fireball blazed hotter and brighter and as large now as a softball and Cas sent it hurtling towards the wall of ice barricading the doorway. The barrier was engulfed in seconds, the inferno making short work of whatever ice locking permafrost spell that Pettigrew had put together. But the warm fluttery feeling in Dean's chest refused to give up the glow even after the flame and the light had well and truly gone. 

"I think... I might just... sit down... for a second. Just for second."

"Of course. Take some time to catch your breath." Dean looked at the door to the undercroft where Potter and Black were already disappearing. Part of him wanted to charge ahead. Part of him wanted to wrap Cas up and keep him safe. "Take all the time you need, buddy."

Cas pulled away from Dean, then lowered himself slowly to the ground and shifted over so he could lean against the masonry. "I'll be fine here. You should go."

Dean's head whipped over. "What? No! I'm not leaving you here by yourself; are you crazy?"

"Dean..." 

"I'm not leaving you, Cas."

Lupin sat down next to Cas. "I'll stay with him. It makes the most sense; I wouldn't be as useful up ahead as a full Animagus, but I daresay I can keep the two of us safe until Novak recovers."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "If you're sure? Okay... You're right, it does make the most sense, but..." Dean scrubbed at the back of his head. "No, you're right. Okay.  We'll be back soon."

Cas' eyes were closed and his voice was a drowsy slur, "I'll just wait here then."

Dean turned to Severus and Sam. "You guys ready?"

Sam nodded. "Let's do this."

Severus gestured towards the entrance to the undercroft, his arm sweeping out in a grand, "After you," gesture.

Dean adjusted his grip on his wand and shook out his limbs, loosening his muscles. "Right. Time to finish this."

Chapter Text

The darkness was somehow even more oppressive in the deepest bowels of the castle than it had been when an exit out to the safety outside was always relatively close. There was no easy way out of a basement and rushing down the steps without a light to guide him was tripping every "This is a stupid idea" circuit breaker in his head.

But it was too late to back out now, so Dean pressed on with Sam right behind him and Severus taking up the rear. He heard the bottom before he saw it. Boxes crashing and splintering, shouting of some sort, a snarling dog, the electric snap of spells being shot across the room.

Dean had passed out the last of his vials of night vision potion before starting down the stairs, but there was no natural light to pick up, so he felt just as blind with it as without it.

Suddenly the dog yipped and started crying out in pain. Dean hurried down the last few steps, not so much concerned for Black as he was concerned about the rat gaining the upper hand. 

At the last step, Dean passed through a slimy, cold layer of atmosphere as if he'd walked straight inside a soap bubble that had been sitting in a sink full of dirty dishes overnight. His body crumpled and contorted of its own accord and he stumbled forward into his honey badger form. 

"Son of a bitch!"

He turned, hoping to stop the others from following him into the trap but it was too late. A giant pair of moose antlers were coming straight at him like a freight train. Dean screamed and scrambled, trying to get away, but where he expected to feel stone masonry beneath his feet, there was a slick sheet of ice. In his panic, he couldn't get his grip and he ended up twisting and writhing upwards just enough that he was scooped up by the antlers rather than impaled on the tines. 

Sammy tried his hardest to get his legs under him, but he had too much forward momentum propelled forward by too much unexpected weight and his hooves just couldn't find any purchase on the slippery ice. His feet were going too many directions and he and Dean were both tumbling tail over muzzle, sliding across the floor until they crashed painfully into the wall. Dean had several seconds to contemplate just how sharp and unforgiving the toes on a moose hoof were when they were flailing around you, how long and sharp and deadly the points on the antlers were when they were directly between you and a wall, and just how freaking heavy an adult moose was when it was seconds and inches away from crushing you to the floor. 

Dean was still contemplating those things when Severus descended and alighted on Sammy's antler with a flutter of wing beats. "Are you two okay?"

Dean groaned, "Peachy."

Sammy's voice was thin and shaky. "I think I broke something."

"Shit, Sammy, are you sure?" Dean scrambled down from where he was tangled in Sam's antlers. Of course, he had no idea how to tell if a moose was in pain, but it didn't stop him looking. 

Sam folded his legs under him, then tried to stand. One of his front legs buckled immediately and he fell back down with a thump. "Yeah," he gasped. "Either broken or very, very sprained."

Dean swallowed, his fight or flight instincts very much pegging on the fight side. "Okay, okay. No big thing. We'll just change back to human and I can fix that with my wand, no problem."

"Easier said than done, I'm afraid," said the large stag, wobbling dangerously as he shuffled towards them across the icy floor. "Peter laid a rather stupidly brilliant trap for us and we waltzed right into it like a couple of prats."

Sam shook his head. "He's right, I can't change back."

Dean closed his eyes and thought the words to the counter charm that would turn him human, but nothing happened. "Son of a bitch! What the hell?"

"Not quite sure how he pulled it off, but he's activated a charm that's keeping us in our animagus forms. I think we all know how this would go if it was just our wand work against his, but he's gone and taken that right off the board, hasn't he? Didn't know Wormtail had it in him. I don't know if you can hear it, but he's taken out Padfoot with a dog whistle." 

The stag's feet slipped sideways and he was suddenly sitting on his rump, legs akimbo. Potter's voice was laced with a self-deprecating amusement that Dean felt was a little misplaced given the situation, "And I can't say I'm faring much better on this ice, actually. If it weren't for the circumstances, I'd say it was all rather well played. I'm feeling properly humbled." The deer shook his head. "I don't know what he's got up his sleeve for Lupin, but best keep your guard up."

Severus flapped his wings. "I can't say that I'm altogether pleased with this, Winchester. I'm not so very worried about Pettigrew himself, per se. While I have never once doubted my ability to destroy any one of the Marauders in a fight--" 

The stag shook his head with a snort and Severus flared his wings locking his beady black eyes on Potter with what could only be interpreted as a corvid version of a death glare. "Provided, of course," he continued, "that it was a one on one duel without the inevitable outside interference from the rest of them. But I will confess that I always assumed I would have my wand. And fingers. And another meter and a half to loom over him with." He flapped his wings again, settling his ruffled feathers. "This feels a little weighted against our favor."

The stag snorted again. "Any one of us, huh? You'd be welcome to try, but any one of us could still wipe the floor with you, I imagine." 

Severus hopped off of Sam's antler and glided over to land on one of Potter's. He bent his head low to look Potter in the eye. "Says the one sitting uselessly on his arse after allowing Pettigrew of all people to get the drop on him."

The stag tried to get to his feet, but the delicate hooves slipped on the ice again and he belly flopped. Potter laughed, "Well, you're not wrong." He shifted up, tucking his legs under him, having given up on getting to his feet for the moment. "Perhaps... After you've finished cleaning up our mess and gloating about it sufficiently, of course... Well, I would be willing to help you test your theory some time in a... well, bugger it. In a proper duel, as you suggest. Just to sort out who deserves the bragging rights. Might be fun."

Severus tilted his head, contemplating the olive branch silently for a moment. "Very well, Potter. Your challenge is accepted." Severus turned his attention to Sam. "I trust you can remain here without further injuring yourself?"

The moose tucked his legs as the stag had done, all except the injured one, then lowered his head to a resting position, all the while looking as petulant as a moose was capable of. "Sure. Not as if I'm going anywhere."

Dean tested walking across the ice, using his claws to dig in and give himself traction. It was a little like using ice cleats, something he'd only ever done once the year before he came to Hogwarts, hunting the ghost of an ice fisherman in Wisconsin. It was tricky, but at least doable. He looked at Sam.

"You gonna be okay?" 

Sam's voice was irritated. "The sooner you go, the sooner it's done with and I can get up to the hospital wing, so hurry up and go, alright?"

Severus launched into the air and flew up ahead, rounding the corner and disappearing past the archway into the larger portion of the undercroft. Dean awkwardly tiptoed after him, digging his claws into the ice and feeling a little like he was trying to walk with his toes clenched into fists.

The ice sheet across the floor extended far into the expansive room. There were hundreds of crates and boxes piled against the walls and covered with dusty sheets, but still the space felt as large and empty as a ballroom. Not for the first time, Dean wondered where the hell the castle kept all this space when it wasn't being used. 

Up ahead, a trail of debris, broken boxes, and tangled sheets led to a pile of giant black dog that was writhing on the ground and whimpering in pain. If it had been anyone else, hell, anyTHING else, Dean might have rushed forward and checked for injuries, but he couldn't for the life of him force himself to get any closer. Black didn't look injured, not obviously anyway  but it was hard to tell from as far back as Dean was and his night vision potion was awesome, but it still had a range. Dean really should get closer and check on him. But he couldn't.

Even knowing he had teeth just as sharp and claws that were legitimately more badass, Dean couldn't stop himself from remembering having his arm ripped open by those teeth in particular and feeling helpless to do anything about it. He had really hoped that having his own animagus form would make him feel less... out of control when seeing the dog again, but here he was, feet frozen to the ground, heart hammering, adrenalin flooding his system in totally unuseful ways. 

Just when Dean was about to start calling himself every awful synonym for being a complete and total failure as a hunter, he remembered what Potter had said about the dog whistle. If he concentrated he could hear it, a sustained high pitch tone that sounded like the hour or so after shooting a gun without hearing protection... which was just about every time he found himself shooting a gun. So, Black probably wasn't injured and Dean could just... walk around... without any dire consequences... this one time. 

"Winchester!" Severus landed on a crate next to him. 

"Son of a--!" Dean did NOT startle hop a foot in the air, but he did have to dig his claws into the ice to keep himself from slipping when he turned toward the crow.

Severus twisted his head looking from Dean to Black and back to Dean again. His feathers ruffled. "Stop stalling and start sniffing. We have to find Pettigrew."

"Right." That was actually a good idea. Dean inhaled deeply, nose twitching as he sorted through smells to find something vaguely rat flavored. It didn't take him long to settle on the old pizza box smell as the one he was looking for and he trotted carefully to a pile of crates and began digging through, pulling them apart and tossing things out of his way until a loud, panicked squeal accompanied a little brown blur darting past him.

Dean was too slow to snag him, but Severus was much quicker, diving out of the darkness to grab the rat in his claws. He even managed to lift the rat up into the air for a wild moment while he twisted and shifted back into human shape and instead of grasping a rat around the neck, Severus was suddenly tangled in Pettigrew's gross ass hair. Severus flapped and pecked, beating his wings against Pettigrew's face and pecking at his ears and the side of his head with his sharp, pointed beak. Pettigrew screamed and waved his arms, frantically trying to beat him away, but Severus' clawed feet were tangled up in Pettigrew's stringy hair, so no amount of flailing was actually putting any distance between them.  

Dean started forward to join in, his jaw already flexing in anticipation of grabbing Pettigrew by a limb and causing pain until he was screaming his submission, or maybe even gnawing and tearing until his adversary was a pile of twisted limbs and rags like all the inferi that he'd torn to pieces tonight... and that was the thought that brought him up short and froze him in place.

No matter how monstrous the events he'd set into motion or the actions he'd taken, Peter Pettigrew himself wasn't a monster. He was a human. Dean was a monster hunter, not a murderer. Even if he was responsible for the longest, stupidest night Dean could remember having. And then it seemed as if time itself was slowing down because every unresolved moral dilemma that had been percolating in Dean's subconscious since that other stupid night in the Shrieking Shack kicked down the door in his brain and decided it was tired of waiting for him to get his shit together and figure this out and there was no time like the present to engage in existential crisis levels of philosophy, so he may as well get started.

Dean was a monster hunter, not a murderer. Incontestable fact. He'd been trained for as long as he could remember to follow in his father's footsteps and take over the family business one day. Hunting things. Saving people. That's what hunters did. But did a person who used monsters to hurt people count as one of the things to be hunted or one of the people to be saved, from his own stupidity if from nothing else? 

And if Pettigrew was worth saving... or at the very least not worth hunting down... then what did that say about Remus Lupin who, by unfortunate circumstance, actually WAS a legitimate monster that Dean's hunter training said SHOULD be hunted and put down with no room at all for gray area? It didn't matter that Lupin wouldn't hurt a fly and twisted himself into knots by trying so hard not to displease anybody ever. It didn't matter that Lupin was soft spoken and smart and he made Severus smile. 

Lupin was a werewolf. Lupin was a monster. Monsters needed to be hunted down before they hurt people. Pettigrew was not a monster, not like Lupin was, but he was willing to hurt people in ways that Lupin wasn't and Dean wanted to hunt him down and end him so he couldn't hurt anyone else. But Pettigrew was not a monster and Lupin was.

Dean swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. What did that say about Cas? Cas wasn't human, that was certain. But a veela was a being, not a monster. Unless you looked into the lore and how they were related to sirens who lured people to their deaths and harpies who kidnapped and ate children. Some lore suggested that veela were the spirits of drowned women or unbaptised girls which made no sense because actual veela had wings and threw fire. It was also understood that actual veela could hypnotize people and compel them to do foolish and dangerous things for their attention. All of those things could be dangerous if used the wrong way, but Cas... well, Cas was Cas. He would be just as unwilling to hurt a person as Lupin, but wasn't he technically a monster, too? What made Cas and Lupin more deserving of being taken out by a monster hunter than Pettigrew, a very human sort of monster who had already proven himself capable of and willing to unleash terror and nightmares and walking corpses on a castle full of freaking children? 

The thought of Lupin and Cas being hunted, cornered, and killed, left for dead while someone like Pettigrew got a pass just for a simple circumstance of fate, as meaningless really as being born with green eyes or something... the thought made Dean's insides twist. He felt like he would have twisted around in that sick feeling forever if he hadn't stumbled back around to that first incontestable truth: Dean may have been a hunter, but he was not, and hopefully would never choose to be, a murderer. 

Time slowly sped up again, Severus' wings beating Pettigrew in the face faster and faster, and instead of ripping with teeth and claws, Dean charged forward and crashed into Pettigrew's legs, knocking him off his feet like a bowling ball. He went down and took Severus with him, but changed back into a rat before he hit the ground. Severus, pulled sideways before being suddenly released from the tangle of hair, was launched into a pile of crates where he flopped and flapped, trying to turn himself rightside up again. 

Dean scrambled forward trying to catch the rat with the pads of his paws instead of his inch long claws. He crashed head first into some boxes and shoved his way through the piles of furniture and detritus, always landing just an inch or two off from managing to get his paws on him. he chased Pettigrew around, over, then through some more crates and finally had the rat cornered in an actual corner. Before he could do anything about it, though, the rat morphed back into human shape and threw a stinging hex right at his face. 

Dean snarled, thrashing his head back and forth and rubbing at his nose and eyes, trying to shake off the effects of the spell. It had been ages since a stinging hex had actually made it past his protection charm and he'd forgotten how much the damned things hurt. He stumbled backwards, blinking away the tears in his eyes. He felt Pettigrew brush past him and Dean tried to catch his robes, snapping his teeth on empty air.

Dean was only just starting to get his bearings when he heard Pettigrew scream again. He trotted out from the smashed crates to the middle of the room where he could see Severus attacking again, clawed feet grabbing at something around Pettigrew's neck. His face was bleeding from Severus' assault and the wing beating looked chaotically brutal. 

The good natured teasing they'd given Severus about how his crow form was more suitable for finesse fell yards short of the reality: it looked mighty unpleasant to be attacked by an enraged crow. With one last flap, Severus launched himself backwards, breaking the necklace he'd snatched from Pettigrew's neck and let it shatter on the flagstones. 

The weird oily atmosphere he'd noticed when they first entered the undercroft slipped away and Dean stood up on two legs, effortlessly shifting back into human shape. He flicked his wand into his hand and flung a blasting charm in front of Pettigrew to cut him off from running further to the back of the room. 

"Hey, asshole! Where do you think you're going?"

Pettigrew squeaked and spun around, staring at Dean and Severus standing side by side with their wands ready. Pettigrew's eyes darted back and forth, searching frantically for an escape.

It would have been so easy to just blast him unconscious now, but Dean grit his teeth and reminded himself that he was a hunter, not a murderer, and if he was going to try and give monsters and other creatures the benefit of the doubt going forward before he put them down, it had to start somewhere. "I've had just about enough of this, so why don't you make it easy and hand over the Black Out Charm so we can start cleaning up this mess, huh?"

Pettigrew sneered and a red curse shot from the tip of his wand, zipping between Dean and Severus. Severus reacted with his own spell, a slicing flash of green, before Pettigrew could get another shot off and he yelped in pain, his wand clattering to the ground.

A pained choking sound came from behind them and Dean and Severus both turned to see Lupin standing just outside the archway, clutching a hand to his throat.

Dean's attention was torn between Severus, crying out and racing to where Lupin stood swaying with his knees already buckling, and Pettigrew who was clutching his wand arm and whimpering in pain.

Severus made it to Lupin's side in time to catch him before he fell to the floor. Pettigrew ran to the back of the room and shifted out of sight.

Dean snarled in frustration and raced to join Severus where he cradled Lupin on the ground, trying to hold him still while the panicking Gryffindor choked and wheezed, air whistling thinly through his clogged up throat. 

Severus was muttering a string of sounds that Dean slowly recognised as just the word, "No," repeating over and over again. Even in the near total darkness, Dean could see how wide and frantic his eyes were. 

"Okay, buddy, try not to panic." Dean kept his voice as even as he could, but he wouldn't have been able to say whether he was talking to the suffocating Gryffindor or the Slytherin clinging to his suffering companion. Dean touched Severus on the shoulder. "What did Pettigrew hit him with?"

Severus blinked at him. 

Dean tried again, "Is it some kind of curse? Something we can counter?"

Severus shook his head. "No, this is... This looks like wolfsbane poisoning."

Wolfsbane was toxic to werewolves. If this really was wolfsbane exposure and Lupin was reacting this badly already, he didn't have long. Unless they could give him some sort of cure to lessen the effects, Lupin could easily die from this. And the fact that it was a friend who had done this to him... Dean had to struggle to keep the rage he felt from boiling over. And it wasn't all aimed at Pettigrew either.

Dean hated the idea that Pettigrew only had an opportunity to hurt Lupin this way because of his own existential crises; if he'd just torn the monster apart from the beginning, this wouldn't have happened. It sucked, but that was just a fact that Dean would have to live with.

"So, how do we fix it?" 

Severus looked at Dean for a moment. "I, uh..." He licked his lips. "I can brew a potion." 

Severus reached into his robe and pulled out a cube no bigger than a deck of cards. He tapped it with his wand and it quickly expanded and unfolded in several places until it was a respectable little travel sized brewing station, complete with little cubbies full of ingredients. Severus' shoulders slumped. "I need to be able to heat up the cauldron."

Dean nodded. "Stay here and get everything else you need prepared. I'll go take care of the Black Out Charm so you can get the flame going." 

Severus nodded, holding Lupin's hand tightly. Lupin continued to gasp like a fish out of water, but he was struggling less, so maybe he was calmer now that they had a course of action. 

Dean turned, dropping into badger shape and racing across the ice to where Pettigrew had disappeared. It was a dead end, but if he sniffed a bit, he could smell old pizza boxes coming from behind the wall. Dean put his paws on the wall and shoved. He followed his nose to the crack between flagstones. Pettigrew had hone this way, Dean knew. He could smell the little rat, clear as day. He shoved and shoved, but couldn't seem to find the way to open the secret passage. Finaly, he humaned up, pulled out his wand, and cast the most devastating blasting charm he had in his arsenal. The rock wall exploded, showering him with pieces of stone and masonry. Dean climbed through the hole he'd created and raced up the stairs, a hunter ready to bring down his prey.

Chapter Text

Dean panted, gasping for breath as he rounded the seventh landing. There had been no doors, no hallways or passages, no way to exit but to keep spiraling toward the top of the tower. In all fairness, it felt as if he'd been running up and down stairs all night, dealing with crisis after crisis, physical, mental, emotional... Everything was getting a good workout today. It wasn't even leg day. It wasn't even Quidditch season anymore. 

He passed the eighth stairwell landing and kept circling up and up and up. When he was done studying for the O.W.L.s, he was going to start investing some serious research time into flying spells. Or elevator spells. He didn't need to go full on airplane, but getting up and down in a jiffy would be useful. He wondered if anybody had ever managed to use a Leviosa spell on themselves. You could levitate other people, other objects, but there was a certain amount of stability required in your posture, a certain groundedness required before you could make other things float. Or at least that's what Dean had found when making it work. He wasn't sure if other students felt the same, but when he cast the spell, it felt like levers and pulleys. Or maybe that's just how he thought after summers spent tinkering with cars at Uncle Bobby's salvage yard and how many pulleys were needed to hoist an engine up. He thought somebody had tried to tell him once that it was just making the target lighter than a feather, but that felt more like rearranging the thing's molecular structure and he'd glanced at enough science books to know that he'd dodged a bullet by being sent to wizard school instead of high school so he'd much rather compare it to hauling engines out of cars. Which meant that he couldn't haul himself off the ground with a Leviosa spell without catapulting himself into the ceiling. But after tonight, he would figure out how to do it. 

Ninth landing. Damn, he was tired. He could see the top of the tower above him. Last set of stairs. His quads were burning, his hands were sweating. He wanted fifty bottles of pumpkin juice and some water and some butterbeer and he wanted to sleep for a week, but most of all, he wanted to crush that charm focus to little pieces so the lights would come back on and Severus could do whatever potion magic he needed to save Remus from the wolfsbane poisoning and the teachers could blast out of the ice prison they were in and finish dealing with the zombie apocalypse and he could maybe, MAYBE get back to fixing things with Cas and apologizing to Bobby about the abrupt end to their floo call. And if in crushing the Blackout charm to pieces, he also managed to squish the little bastard of a rat in his fist accidentally... not enough to kill him, just enough to make him squeak, just enough so this night could end... Well, it wasn't an unpleasant thought. 

He rested his forehead against the door, took a few breaths and tightened his grip on his wand. He pushed open the door and stepped out into the cold night air. He was on one more landing at the bottom of one more half flight of stairs wrapping up to a platform topping one the many spires that dotted the castle. And now that he was out here, he could see exactly where he was. Honestly, Dean had thought this particular spire had been purely decorative for the longest time.

Reflexes and the telltale buzz of his arm hairs standing on end were the only thing that saved him from getting a face full of green lightning; he ducked and rolled forward out of the way just in the nick of time. Pettigrew had evidently been waiting to take him out the moment he showed his face above the stairway. From the way that it exploded behind him and showered him with splintered bits of rock, that had been quite a powerful spell the Gryffindor had unleashed at him. 

But really, if he was being honest, the thing that upset Dean the most was that the pudgy little bastard wasn't even winded. 

Dean snarled, "Give it up, Pettigrew. Give me the charm right now or feel how horrible it is to really get on my bad side."

Pettigrew shook his head. "No, you're not getting it."

And that was just about enough of that. Dean whipped his wand forward, "Accio Blackout Charm!" The spell must have known that he wasn't kidding around because the little flashlight flapped about wildly in Pettigrew's robes in its effort to obey the command, smacking the boy twice in the nose before it managed to free itself and rocket straight into Dean's free hand. 

Dean had been fumbling around in his thoughts the entire way up the stairs, trying to come up with a quick way to undo a charm without sitting in a library and reverse engineering the enchantments used. The curse breakers could do quite well in those high stress "break it now or die horribly" situations, but it took a lot of training to get there, to know if it was safer to cut the magical version of the red wire or the blue wire, so to speak; Dean knew just enough about it to know that he didn't know nearly enough about it. He'd even toyed with the idea of summoning Fiendfyre, assuming that the Blackout Charm hadn't protected itself from that particular loophole either. 

But when it was finally in his hand and Dean was staring down at the plain looking flashlight the charm had been bound to... He flicked the switch to the off position and felt the dampening spells drop. Dean could see across to the main part of the castle, windows and doorways everywhere lighting up as if Hogwarts itself were waking up from some dark nightmare.

It felt far too simple for that to be everything, but he looked up at Pettigrew, panicked and bleeding from his nose, hair disheveled, face white. He couldn't see anything in his eyes that suggested he had anything else up his sleeve or that he was gloating about some secret fail-safe, or anything of the nature. Dean dropped the flashlight on the flagstone and pointed his wand at it. "Incendio." He poured all of his anger and irritation into the jet of fire, allowing the flames to pour out until the charm was nothing but a melted pile of plastic. "Well, fire's working again, so that's a plus."

Dean could see the moment Pettigrew weighed his options and switched tactics; his entire demeanor changed from one of desperate defiance to one of pleading supplication.

"Winchester... Oh, thank Merlin you're here! You've saved me. You have no idea... no idea what I've been through."

"You're right," Dean growled. "I have no idea what you've been through. Because I don't know a thing about how it feels to betray your family and try to murder a castle full of children."

"It wasn't like that!" Pettigrew whimpered. "It wasn't like that at all!" Pettigrew lunged forward, trying to get by Dean and break for the stairs. Dean flicked his wand, a depulsor charm knocking Pettigrew back toward the low wall that separated the tower's landing from the thin air. Pettigrew yelped, struggling back onto his feet. "You don't understand! They made me! The death eaters forced me to, I had no choice! No choice, don't you see?"

"Pretty sure there's always a choice," Dean said. 

"No, no, there wasn't, don't you see? Don't you remember? In Dark Arts, we were learning about the curses, remember? The Unforgiveable Curses? The Imperio Curse! That's the one! They used the Imperio Curse on me and forced me to-to-to do those things. They MADE me do those things!"

"What things, huh? What things did they make you do?"

"What things?" Pettigrew stammered, backing along the edge of the parapet, clearly trying to buy time and put distance between them. "All... all of them. All of the things they made me do. They... they made me use the charm... then hide myself away."

"And what about the Inferi?" 

"Well, you can't believe, surely, that I would have had anything to do with that? I wouldn't have known how... they came in through the dungeon. It would have to be a Slytherin to know about secret passages into the dungeon. It was the Death Eaters that brought them into the castle. 

Dean chuckled. "Well, that would have been a good point if I didn't know about that magic map of yours or that you can turn yourself into a rat and scuttle into places that others couldn't even dream of scampering into."

The fake smile Pettigrew had been wearing faltered a bit. "But you have to, Winchester, you have to believe me! You believe me, don't you?"

"I don't know, but let me see if I have all of this straight." Dean held up one finger, counting points as he listed them. "The Death Eaters, the ones from Slytherin, forced you to use a charm that controls fire and light, a charm that they had no way of knowing about themselves and that just happened to make the entire school body incapable of fighting off a very specific type of monster with those very specific vulnerabilities." Dean added a second finger. "Then they forced you to tell them about the secret passage into the dungeons, which they knew you would know about because of your magic map, which again, is a secret that they would only know you have if somebody had informed them of its existence." A third finger. "And then they forced you to block the faculty tower with charmed ice that can only be affected by fire and then barricade yourself in the basement, again with the charmed ice." Dean had all four fingers up now. "And then after all this, those scheming Slytherins forced you to set up traps to make it impossible for your friends, your FRIENDS, to get to you." He gripped his wand tight to his palm with his thumb so he could use the fingers on his wand hand to count off. "Traps that include forcing them into their animagus forms and then hitting them with terrain that Potter can't cross too easily, with a sound that incapacitates Black, and with a substance that poisons Lupin, maybe even kills him." 

Dean wiggled his fingers, four from one hand and four from the other. "As the infinitely wise Tweety Bird once said, that's a wot of widdle piddies, Pettigrew." Dean gripped his wand properly again and pointed it directly at him. "You really expect me to believe all that?"

Pettigrew looked over the side of the wall, then left and right around the platform, his head swiveling as he searched for an escape. Dean couldn't help but follow suit, nearly giving himself an attack of vertigo. Dean tried not to think about the fact that they were a full ten stories higher than what passed as 'the ground' in Scotland but could really best be described as cragged, jagged rocks without a single soft landing spot to be found. There was no escape for Pettigrew down that way. It wouldn't be pleasant to fall from this high up, even as a honey badger. Pettigrew stammered, trying desperately to hold onto the obvious lie and make it ring true. "It wasn't me, it was the Imperious Curse. You have to believe me, I didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice." Dean hissed. "And when there isn't a choice, it's because you didn't try hard enough. It's bad enough when you don't do everything in your power to keep your family safe, but to go out of your way to hurt them? Doesn't make you the victim in this scenario. And then to unleash a hoard of zombies on a castle full of kids? Naw, man. Pretty sure that makes you the monster here."

Pettigrew yelled, an inarticulate sound of rage, all pretense of innocence dropped in a moment, leaving an angry, twisted sneer of hatred in its place. He jerked his wand at Dean and fired another bolt of green lightning in his direction. This time, Dean just threw up a protection charm and let it batter against his shield, just so the rat could see how unfazed he was. 

Pettigrew snarled, "Ironic, don't you think, Winchester? Calling ME the monster when you know exactly what Lupin is!"

"Lupin? Is he what this whole thing is about? He's supposed to be your FRIEND, you asshole. I thought the four of you were supposed to be a FAMILY." 

"And I thought YOU of all people would understand! The full moon makes him nothing but a mindless killing machine! A werewolf would sooner eat you as look at you and you know it. You can't be FAMILY to a werewolf! And family wouldn't force you to face death nine times a year, regardless of the reason. Family wouldn't just say, 'Buck up, Peter, stop being such a scared little mouse about it.' He was already starting to turn on us, you know, starting to side with you and Snape; forgetting us, forgetting how much we risked and sacrificed for him! How long before he forgot that we were his friends? Before he forgot that he wasn't supposed to EAT his friends? Don't you understand? You should understand! You of all people should understand! Monsters aren't safe to be around, not unless you have some sort of leverage, and it's YOUR FAULT that I don't have that leverage anymore! You're the one who took that away from us, who made him dangerous. It's your fault that I'm not safe from him!"

"Thought all you Gryffindors were supposed to be brave?"

"You try being brave when you sleep next to a monster every night! When the people who keep the others from bullying you start forgetting why they keep you around!"

Another bolt of lightning. Another useless impact against his shield. Dean growled, "Is that why you let the Inferi in? To kill Lupin?"

"No. The Inferi are a test, a test to prove that I can be useful to someone who CAN keep me safe, who rewards his followers and grants them protection."

"And just who would that be?"

"The Dark Lord! He's promised me things. Power, protection. I never have to be afraid again! And James and Sirius, well, they'll see how useful I was to have around, won't they?"

"And what? They'll just come crawling back and begging for your forgiveness?'

"They forget that I'm every bit as good as they are! 'Poor little Peter, only passing classes because Potter took pity on him, what a joke.' Well, I'm tired of being a joke!" Pettigrew gestured wildly. "Maybe I'm not as great at charms as Lupin is or Defense and Jinxes as Potter and Black, but once the Dark Lord marks me and makes me a Death Eater, I won't be such a joke to everyone then, will I?"

Dean could hear the door that led back into the tower slam open, but he didn't break eye contact to see who it was. "No, you won't be a joke, Peter, but I can't imagine anything funny about spending the rest of your life in Azkaban, can you?"

"Dean?!"

"Up here, Cas!" Dean called out. "Watch out for Pettigrew, he's--" 

"I'm not going to Azkaban! Don't you get it? I'm going to be useful and powerful! And appreciated! And if I have to kill you to do it, so be it!" 

Dean could see the look... the widening of the eyes, the firming of the mouth, the aura of 'I'm about to do something crazy, stupid, courageous, desperate, or all of them at once.' He shifted his feet, firming his stance, tightened his grip on his wand, and braced for whatever crazy thing Pettigrew was going to throw at him next.

Dean could hear Cas screaming his name, could feel the air around him gathering heat and density. "Proteg--"

"EXPULSO BOMBARDA!"

The world around him exploded and Dean felt like he'd been kicked in the chest by a Clydesdale. He couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet anymore and with a sick feeling in his stomach, he realized it was because the tower wasn't actually beneath his feet anymore. He was tumbling through the air, being pummeled with splinters of wood and chunks of masonry; the whole top of the spire was coming down with him. Dean couldn't catch his breath, couldn't get his bearings, couldn't see if Cas had been caught in the explosion, but he hoped like hell he hadn't. 

There was only one hundred and fifty feet between him and death and he was going to spend every last one of those feet hoping that Cas was alright, that he wouldn't be too torn up by how tonight had gone down. He would spend them hoping that Sam would know how much he was loved and would grow up to be just as amazing as Dean knew he could be. He would spend them hoping Severus would be okay, that Remus would take care of him, or they'd take care of each other and wouldn't have to be afraid anymore. He hoped that his little Badgerlets were safe and he hoped Bobby wouldn't think too badly of him for miscalculating this last bit so horribly. He hoped like hell that Cas was safe and wished that things had gone different and they'd had more than just one stupid, perfect kiss and that he could tell him one more time how awesome his wings were and twenty feet to go just wasn't enough time for all the hopes and wishes and regrets and Dean still couldn't catch his breath...

But then it wasn't just twenty feet to the ground anymore; it was thirty... then forty... and he wasn't falling anymore, he was FLYING. He blinked the tears from his eyes and twisted his head to see that Cas was holding him, gripping him as tight as he could with the air whipping by them and ruffling through black feathers flared out from his massive wings. Cas was beating them frantically, fighting against gravity, gaining and losing lift with each powerful convulsion in a desperate glide toward the flatter, safer ground of the Quidditch pitch.

In spite of Cas' best efforts, the ground was still coming up to meet them too damn fast and Cas lost his grip on Dean when he tried not to slam his wings into the ground. Dean flew forward, crashing onto the grass and tumbling ass over teakettle, collecting new bruises and aches and pains to go along with the ones he'd already acquired from Pettigrew blowing up the tower. He finally ran out of momentum and rolled to a stop, face up and looking at the stars. Even though he could feel stillness from the wet grass under his back, the stars above them, and even the quidditch stands, wouldn't stop spinning around him as if he was laying down on a merry go round. "A fellow could get dizzy from this." His voice sounded muffled and far away, even to his own ears... ears that were more keen to listen to the white noise machine that had suddenly found its way into his head.

"Dean? Dean!" Cas' voice seemed echoey, like he was coming through a tunnel. Then he was there, his face spinning around with everything else. 

Dean smiled, trying to focus on his eyes, but losing the battle. He felt like he was falling. "Cas... Cas, your wings are fucking beautiful..." 

They were, too. Big and black and soft and warm and Dean felt like he was falling still, but wrapped in feathers that weren't going to let him land.

Chapter Text

Dean hated waking up in hospitals. The hospital wing wasn’t much better. It was always a struggle, like swimming up out of a lake that was far too deep for comfort. His limbs felt glued down, but there was an urgency to getting them moving. It usually had something to do with his brain telling him he was still in danger even though his nose stung with the smell of potions. It wasn’t as bad as the sterile, oxygenated antiseptic of an actual hospital, but it was close enough to keep him from launching himself off the bed and back into the fight.

After what seemed like several attempts, he was finally able to get his eyes open and almost instantly regretted it. Blinking against the brightness, he turned his head and caught sight of the last person he expected to see cooling his heels in Hogwarts. Bobby Singer was a solid man, in stature as well as character. He wore a battered ball cap and a puffy fisherman’s vest that had seen almost as many winters as he had, which wasn’t that many when you really sat down and thought about it, especially compared to other wizards Dean had met, but Bobby had done a lot of living and a lot of hunting in his fifty or so years. He currently sat hunched up slightly in a chair by his bedside, legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed across his chest.

For whatever reason, Dean couldn’t wrap his head around having Bobby here at Hogwarts when he should have been working in his house at Singer’s Salvage Yard in South Dakota or even terrorizing students in his Defense Classes at Ilvermorny. Somehow, Uncle Bobby just wasn’t a Hogwarts thing. For one, he could never imagine the man in wizard robes, so he couldn’t possibly be here at Hogwarts. Hunters and robes, Hogwarts, wizard stuff, hunter stuff. It mixed in his head about as well as orange juice and cocoa puffs.

Dean giggled a bit when he couldn’t get his thoughts in order. Madame Pomfrey must have fed him some of her better potions.

Bobby shifted, voice gruff from sleep. “Well. Guess that means you’re alive. And if you’re alive, I guess that means you can just about stand to have your ears blistered.” Bobby leaned forward, his voice shifting from gravelly and warm to sharp as broken pieces of shale, “Just what the hell is wrong with you?”

Dean thought that being alive was debatable for the moment, but knew better than to say so. “What happened?” he croaked, his throat dry and scratchy. “Sammy?”

“Oh, Sam is fine. Broken bone, a few scrapes. He was cleared to leave about an hour after Madame Pomfrey started checking him over. You, on the other hand.” Bobby waved a hand at Dean. “You had to go and get yourself blown up!”

Dean winced. “Bobby, I —”

“Do I look like I’m finished reading you the riot act, boy?”

Dean’s teeth clicked together and he managed just the faintest shake of his head.

Bobby glared. “Just what the hell is it with you Winchesters, huh? In what world do you think that it’s okay for a fifteen-year-old to be the one who has to go and save everybody? An entire school full of the most powerful witches and wizards in Europe and you can’t ask for help from a single one of them. It still has to be you racing into the damned hellhole.” Bobby shook his head, his exasperation nearly making him snarl, “And don’t even think for one minute that I’ve forgotten what we were talking about just before our floo call got cut off. An Animagus charm, Dean? Really? At fifteen? If I wanted to watch you get yourself killed, I wouldn’t have pulled so many strings to get you into school over here where I THOUGHT you would be safe. Or at the very least taught a little more self-preservation than your dad ever thought to show you.”

Dean lifted his chin, the first bit of defiance he was able to muster. “They were trapped. The teachers. Self-preservation wouldn’t have helped anybody; it just would have gotten people killed. They were trapped.”

“Has it occurred to you that your teachers might have been able to get themselves UNtrapped? That maybe if there was a literal inferi hoard invading the school grounds, the safest and sanest thing that you could have done would have been to stay the hell where you were and wait for help to come to you?”

“But help wasn’t coming, and I had to—”

“Dammit, Dean!” Bobby stood and paced away from the bed, more agitated now than Dean had ever seen him. Dean’s eyes stung a bit as he watched the older man walk away from him. “Help was damn sure coming for you, you idgit! Dammit!” Bobby turned towards Dean again, his eyes glistening with the only tears Dean had ever seen from the man. “You think when our call cut off and I couldn’t get a hold of you, your brother, or anyone else in the school, that I would just sit around with my hand up my ass waiting for you to call back? You think I wouldn’t move heaven and earth to find a way to get here and make sure you weren’t getting yourself in over your head? I was DAMN sure coming for you, boy.”

And now the tears that had been itching at Dean’s own eyes broke free completely. “I’m sorry, Bobby, I wasn’t…” He broke off coughing and Bobby sighed, all the anger and frustration leaving him in an instant. He returned to the chair he’d been in and grabbed a glass from the nearby table, holding it for Dean so could have a sip of the water inside.

“Easy, kid, take your time.” When Dean had finished, Bobby’s eyes softened, and he patted Dean on the cheek, the lingering motion saying more than words ever could that Dean was loved.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

Bobby nodded and set the water down. “Well, now we've got that out of our system, you mind filling me in on what happened?”

“I was actually kind of hoping you could tell me. You said I got blown up?”

“So it would seem. I’ll tell you what, why don’t I go first? Then maybe you can fill in some blanks. After we got cut off and I couldn’t reach anyone in Hogwarts, I called over to The Three Broomsticks, got in touch with Aberforth. When he couldn’t reach the castle either, I grabbed myself a portkey and got myself to Hogsmeade. We’d just about made it to the front door when the tower exploded. Aberforth and I followed the trail of bodies you kids left behind down to that basement. We found Sam and a couple of Gryffindors that needed medical attention, so we got them up to the hospital wing. There was no sign of you until that boyfriend of yours —”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dean was quick to interject.

“Right. I must have you confused with some other idgit teenager who floo called me after curfew in a big gay panic over his friend with the… What was it you said? Sexy veela mojo?”

Dean’s ears turned a shade redder. “Okay, so… I may have said… that, yeah. But that doesn’t mean—”

“I don’t care, Dean.”

“What?”

“I don’t care.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to make of that. “But… What do you… I mean… aren’t you just a little—”

“It may have escaped your notice, kid, but I’ve had far more pressing matters occupying my attention for the last two days. Like you doing your damnedest to put yourself in a pine box.” When Dean opened and closed his mouth several times without getting any words out, Bobby continued. “Dean, I couldn’t care less how you spend your time or who you spend it with. Hell, son, if that boy keeps you too busy to go out looking for ways to get yourself killed, then I’ll be the first to join his fan-club. And if it’s some sort of acceptance or support that you need in order to convince you to go after a good thing, then you have it, kid. God knows you’ve asked for few enough things in your life.” Bobby grabbed Dean’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “My being okay with you having a… a relationship or whatever you’re comfortable calling it… isn’t going to break the bank.” 

The weight of Bobby’s words slowly sank in, each one swirling in his mind, prodding mercilessly at the guilt he couldn’t shake for not living up to... Well. Maybe it was just fear. Fear of being a disappointment, fear that nothing he did was enough, fear that no matter how strong and hard and determined he was, any weakness was one too many. “I... thanks,” Dean stammered, both grateful and mortified that the small speech was doing more to make him cry than anything else he had faced in the last 48 hours. He huffed, frustrated with himself, and swiped at his eyes, brushing the moisture roughly away. “Sorry. Not trying to… It’s just been a lot.”

Bobby smiled, a gesture he clearly meant to be reassuring, and cupped Dean’s jaw in his warm, rough palm for a whole second or two before patting him affectionately on the cheek. “You’re a good kid, Dean. I suppose I’ll just have to keep telling you that until it sinks into that thick skull of yours.”

Before Dean could reply, a muted, gravely voice from the doorway interrupted, causing Dean’s pulse to thrum just a little bit faster. “Professor Singer? Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to you in his office.”

“About damn time.” Bobby looked between Dean and Cas, who stood hovering anxiously in the doorway to the hospital wing. “Probably wouldn’t hurt to let you two boys have some privacy either. Do me a favor. Make sure this idgit doesn’t try anything stupid ‘till I get back, would you?” Bobby gave Cas a hearty thump on the shoulder as he passed.

Castiel recovered his balance and shifted his weight. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” Dean rubbed at his eyes again. “How you doing?”

“Better, now that you’re awake.” Castiel sat down in the seat that Bobby had vacated. “I was…” He trailed off for a moment, squinting his eyes in concentration before finishing softly, “Concerned.”

Dean chuckled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah? Can’t say I blame you. Thought that was pretty much it, you know? Lights out.”

Cas frowned. “The lights WERE out, Dean. I landed us as softly as I could, but you did still hit your head very hard. Maybe I should get Madame Pomfrey to check you for memory damage.”

“No, Cas, I know. I’m fine. Lights out is an expression. You know, one of my weird American sayings. Nothing to worry about.”

Cas was silent for a moment. “What does it mean?”

“It means,” Dean swallowed, “I kind of thought I was about to die for a moment there. Well, more than a moment, I suppose. All the parts between realizing I was falling and seeing you catch me. You caught me, Cas. I didn’t even know you could fly.”

“I didn’t know I could either,” he confessed.

Dean blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never tried before.” Cas shrugged his shoulders and did a little shimmy as if he was settling the wings that were once again completely invisible to the naked eye. Dean would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking for it.

“You never… And you just… Dammit, Cas, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Cas tilted his head, eyes narrowing in irritation. “I don’t know, Dean, but somehow I expect you’re about to tell me.”

“You’re telling me that you just, what? Jumped off a building and hoped for the best? No idea if you were actually capable of keeping yourself from dying, let alone what the extra weight would do. No way to save yourself if it hadn’t worked. Just… bombs away, huh?” Dean’s hand waved flippantly in the air.

Cas stared for several seconds. “Yes.”

“Do you have any idea how—”

“Dean,” Cas cut him off with a hint of iron in his voice. “If you’re about to tell me it was inadvisable to put myself into danger trying to save your life, may I remind you that you spent an entire night fighting a horde of inferi in an attempt to save literally every straggler that didn’t have the sense to be in a dormitory. So, for you to call me to task in this instance might paint you as hypocritical at the very least. I might also be inclined to point out that I wouldn’t have had to attempt flying after you if you hadn’t allowed Pettigrew to demolish the tower in the first place. And yourself along with it, I might add.”

“Hey, now. I’ll take credit for my own mistakes, but whatever the hell kind of spell Pettigrew threw at me was nowhere at all in our textbook, so I think you have to give me a pass for that one.”

Cas winced and broke eye contact. “Nobody blames you for that, Dean.”

Dean sat up straighter. That wasn’t as comforting as Cas had probably intended it to be, but Dean had a lifetime’s worth of experience reading between the lines and finding the awful, horrible truths hidden under the surface. He tried to sound casual, “What happened to him, anyway? Pettigrew, I mean. I think I lost sight of him on my way towards the ground.”

“You’re looking rather pale; maybe I should get Madame Pomfrey.”

Dean’s hand shot forward to grab Cas’ sleeve before he was able to retreat.

“Cas, what happened?”

“Well, it’s um — It’s just… nobody really — What happened wasn’t… your fault,” Cas trailed off unhelpfully.

“Whatever you’re about to say isn’t any worse than what I’m thinking you’re gonna say, so do us both a favor and just say it, alright?”

“The teachers think the spell wasn’t cast correctly and that the backlash of it… Well. They could only find a finger. The rest of him is just… gone.”

Dean understood why Castiel hadn’t wanted to say anything. How do you tell a person you cared about that they’d killed somebody? That a boy had died, and that they were to blame for it? Dean swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in his throat.

“Well, that’s… That’s that, I guess. Thanks for telling me, Cas.”

“Dean, it wasn’t your fault.”

“No? Who else could it be? I’m the one who chased him up there.”

Cas sighed, shaking his head. “If you hadn’t, Lupin would have died. He didn’t give you much of a choice.”

“No, I’m the one who didn’t give HIM a choice. I… I should have done something different, man. I should have gotten that flashlight away from him quicker, should have talked him down when I had a chance. Shouldn’t have chased him up there. If I hadn’t… Don’t you get it, Cas? He wouldn’t have tried such a stupid spell if I hadn’t cornered him and cut off his escape route.”

“You don’t know that, Dean.” Castiel’s voice had dropped to a frustrated growl. “I think you’re forgetting that Pettigrew started the entire chain of events when he unleashed a hoard of inferi into a school full of children.”

“Dammit, Cas, he was still a person, and I killed—” The rest of whatever the sentence had been disappeared completely when Dean suddenly discovered that Cas was no longer sitting in the seat by the bed; Castiel was, in fact, looming entirely over him and pressing their lips together in an entirely unexpected kiss.

Dean’s whole reality started crackling and warbling like a cassette tape that had been recorded over and replayed too many times. Long, strong fingers cradled both sides of his face. Dean’s eyes drifted shut, his lips parted, the world stopped spinning, and Castiel kissed him like there was some mystery to the universe that could only be coaxed out of a sigh with gentleness and patient tenderness. Dean considered himself a reasonably good kisser, but he had never kissed anyone like this before. All the kisses he had shared with girls had mostly been about feeling good in the moment, but this one kiss with Castiel was something completely different — this was meant to touch his soul, and damned if it wasn’t succeeding.

The kiss ended far too soon. Dean opened his eyes to see that Cas was mere inches away and staring with an intensity that Dean didn’t think he would survive if it continued for too much longer. “I love you, Dean. But I need you to stop talking for a moment.”

Dean licked his lower lip, then nodded, held captive by the sincerity of the moment. “Yeah, okay.”

“Nothing you did caused Peter Pettigrew to die. His choices did that. I won’t go so far as to say he deserved what happened, but he intended for people to die that night. He WANTED people to die that night. And he laid traps for the people he believed were most capable of stopping him. Without Severus brewing an antidote on the spot, Remus would have died from wolfsbane poisoning. That ice trap he laid for Potter? What are the chances that a deer running full speed down some stairs into a pitch-black room that slips on some ice wouldn’t break its neck when it hits the wall? Sam was lucky because a moose is built like a tank and he still got injured, but if it had been Potter?”

Dean had gone cold at the reminder that Sam had been hurt and the thought that if he hadn’t been, he might have been up in that tower with Dean when Pettigrew had fired that spell.

Cas closed his eyes and frowned, but continued on, “Now, I know you have whatever prejudices you have about monsters and being a hunter. Merlin KNOWS that I know you have problems with monsters. I know you think it’s your sacred duty to rid the world of people like Remus who have no choice about what they are, but who go out of their way to protect others from themselves, or people like me who have… complicated parentage, who didn’t even realize they were monsters until they suddenly sprouted extra appendages.”

“Cas—” Dean could feel Castiel’s fingers, still cradling his face, curl and tremble ever so slightly as Cas took a steadying breath. Dean reached up to cover Cas’ hands with his own, prompting those impossibly blue eyes to open. “You’re not a monster, Cas.”

“I’m not a person, though. Veela are beings, but we’re not people, remember?”

“That’s not—”

“So, by your logic, that you need to punish yourself for what happened because Pettigrew was a person, even though he put children in danger fully intending that they should die, even though he betrayed his closest friends, even though he endangered your family, even though he attacked you, you still should have tried harder to keep him alive than you would me or Lupin?”

“That’s different.”

“How, Dean? If your dad came across a veela in some town, would he put them down? Not me, just some other person with wings and fireballs and an alluring aura? Would you try to stop him?”

“You’re not being fair.”

“I’m not being fair. I know that. But I didn’t throw myself off a tower to save your life just to see you…” Castiel’s jaw flexed as he struggled to put into words whatever fire was burning behind his eyes. “...do THIS to yourself. You are not to blame, and punishing yourself with guilt isn’t going to change anything. It only hurts you. And I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“I hear you, Cas and I’ll make you a deal, okay? I’ll work on not blaming myself for not saving… for not saving that rat bastard. And I’ll talk to Bobby about my monster issues. Because you’re right; I’ve got issues. So, I’ll work on it, okay? But can you do something for me?”

Cas let out the breath he was holding. “Anything, Dean.”

Dean licked his lips, the sudden nervousness fluttering in his chest like a hummingbird. “Can you kiss me again?”

Castiel smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that Dean couldn’t recall seeing before. One of his hands shifted a little, and then his thumb was lightly stroking over Dean’s bottom lip, catching at the chapped skin just enough to tug it downwards. Dean could see Cas’ beautiful blue eyes begin to darken when Dean’s tongue darted forward to soothe the electric tingling that followed Castiel’s touch. His voice was strained, gravely with emotion. “Of course, I can.”

This time, when their lips met, Dean was prepared for the rush of warmth that seemed to start in his heart until it flowed out to the rest of his body. He was prepared for the way his brain grew dizzy without the steady supply of oxygen, for the way that every point of contact where they touched seemed to be a direct supply of endorphins and his body was desperate to fuel up. Before he knew it, his own hands were tangled in Castiel’s hair and he was kissing him back as if his own life depended on it. Or his own happiness, at least. He could survive without Castiel kissing him, but he knew he would never be happy again without it. Finally, ages of breathless delight later, they broke apart, chests heaving and breath stuttering. And Castiel was smiling. It was a perfect moment that Dean wanted etched in his memory till the day he died.

Chapter Text

Madame Pomfrey didn’t let Dean leave until the next day. She probably would have preferred to keep him longer, but was a very smart witch and knew a hopeless task when it presented itself. It was close enough to lunchtime when Dean slipped out of the hospital wing that he made for the Great Hall instead of the Hufflepuff dorm, his wand casually flicking through the familiar pattern of a notice-me-not charm. His muscles ached and even the soles of his feet felt tired, but it was nothing compared to the bone-deep exhaustion from the night before and he’d have to be in a full-body cast to even consider skipping lunch.

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual lunch crowd, but their eyes slid past him, thanks to the charm. He made his way unaccosted to the Hufflepuff table, where two Slytherins, a Ravenclaw, and a Gryffindor all guarded an empty space at the table, presumably for him.

Sam spotted him first. “Dean!” His little brother launched from his seat, gangly arms wrapping around Dean’s middle.

Breath whooshed from his lungs at the impact. “Easy there, Sammy. I'm still a bit sore.” Dean ruffled Sam’s hair, earning an eye roll that couldn’t hide his brother’s relief.

Sam backed up and shoved his things over, making the empty space actually person-sized so Dean could sit down. Castiel shifted over as well, creating just enough room on the bench from the other side that Dean could wedge himself into place between Sam and Cas, but not enough so that he had any choice but to be pressed close up against Castiel’s body heat. Dean couldn’t stop himself from wriggling against him just a bit and forcing him to adjust the giant invisible wing that settled gently against his back. Once he was settled comfortably, Cas leaned close and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got blown up and thrown off a tower.” Dean grinned, but nobody laughed. “Too soon?”

Cas’ hand found Dean’s under the table, fingers intertwining with his. “Much too soon.”

Dean gave Cas’ hand a gentle squeeze, warmth blooming in his chest at the small smile that earned him.

Sam tried to stifle a goofy smirk as he passed Dean a plate loaded with shepherd’s pie. “We were starting to think Madame Pomfrey was going to keep you forever.”

“She tried. But I convinced her I’d heal better surrounded by you lot than stuck up there all alone.” Dean had never thought he could smile so much that his face hurt, but holding Cas’ hand and seeing him smile back… if you could convert pure joy into electrical energy, he would probably be able to power an entire grocery store for a whole week just from that one smile alone.

A voice broke through the ecstasy, dripping with disdain. “Will somebody please tell me when this tawdry display of affection has run its course? I might vomit.”

“Severus,” Remus’ admonishment was accompanied by the thud of a book hitting a shoulder very hard. “Be kind.”

“I AM kind, Lupin. However, I fail to see why I should have to be nice about it.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, and Severus rolled his shoulders like a crow fluffing up its feathers. Dean thought that for all his talk about displays of affection, Severus was surprisingly capable of looking awfully affectionate himself, particularly when he was looking at Remus. Finally, Severus shook his head and sat back, then turned his attention towards the space that Dean occupied and dipped his head slowly to the side until he could see through Dean’s notice-me-not charm.

“It’s good to see that you don’t look TOO worse for wear. And we’re all very pleased that you haven’t, in fact, taken up permanent residency in the hospital wing,” Severus said. He looked at Remus, his expression screaming the words, ‘There, is that good enough?’ Remus’s pleased as punch expression in return probably meant that it was.

Dean grinned, “If I’m being honest, I think I’d rather take up permanent residence in James Potter’s dirty clothes bin than stay one more night in the hospital wing.”

Remus laughed softly. “I think Madame Pomfrey is just as pleased to be rid of you as you are to escape from her. But believe me when I tell you that James’ dirty clothes hamper is far worse than your imagination could possibly conjure.”

Severus sighed. “Speak of the devil, here he comes now.”

Dean turned to look and, sure enough, James Potter and Sirius Black were making their way toward their table. Dean groaned, then flicked his wand, dropping the notice-me-not charm completely. “What’s the point in having a charm up if everyone can see through it?”

Sam shrugged. “Not being the center of attention isn’t exactly your strong suit, Dean.”

Dean didn’t have a chance to defend himself from the clearly unfair accusation before Potter said, “Winchester.”

Dean pasted on his best smile. “Potter. To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Black squirmed and looked in every direction but at the people sitting at the table, and Potter looked like he was preparing to rip a strip of duct tape off his skin. “We came to apologize.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Apologize?" Dean couldn't tell if he was more startled or flabbergasted at the thought of any of the Marauders apologizing for anything, let alone two of them at once. "Oh. Okay. Uh, apologize for what?”

Black mumbled, “Can’t we just leave it as one of those blanket, all-bases-covered apologies and call it good?” Potter elbowed him in the ribs. “Hey, don’t be like that, I was just asking.”

Potter looked around at all the people at the table, lingering on Remus and Severus for a moment, before returning to Dean. “How about... for letting things escalate until they got out of hand?” He glared at Black. “And for not stopping people from traveling down the road of sheer epic twattery before innocent people got hurt.”

"Fine..." Black groaned. “And I apologize for skipping joyfully down the road of sheer epic twattery and not stopping before people got hurt.” He looked at Potter. “Is that enough?”

Potter cleared his throat and gestured towards Remus and Severus.

Black looked from the two of them and then back to Potter. “Oh, come on! Really?” He rolled his eyes. “I would also like to apologize," he glared at Potter, "to you, Moony, for being an absolute wanker about your... boyfriend.” The last word looked like it caused him as much pain as pulling a loose tooth. “And to you, Snivellus... SEVERUS, I mean... for, uh, accidentally maybe kind of almost getting you killed earlier this year.” He gestured weakly at Dean. “And for biting you, I guess.”

Potter didn’t look away, and Black raised his hands in frustration. “What? And I apologize for everything that came afterwards? What else am I supposed to apologize for? I’m sorry, I am! I’ve said it! Can we just be done now, please?”

Potter looked at Remus, eyebrows raised. Remus shrugged. “It would be nice if Padfoot apologized for trying to use me as a murder weapon that would have been sent to Azkaban if his moronic stunt had succeeded. And it would be even nicer if he apologized for kicking me out of our dorm because that was a truly shitty thing to do to a friend.” Remus crossed his arms in front of his chest. “But. Since I know those finer points of social interaction are probably too subtle for a dog-brained mutt with fleas between his ears like Padfoot to understand...” Remus shrugged again. “Yes, I accept your apology.” 

Remus turned to Severus, whose shoulders wilted. “Must I?”

“Please?”

“Very well. I accept your apology, Black, let us never speak of this ever again.” He went back to reading his book.

Remus grinned, watching him for a moment before turning back to Potter. “See how sweet he is to me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Potter said, “Absolutely saccharine.” Potter looked around the table from Sam and Dean to Cas and then to Remus and Severus. “So. Are we all good here?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey, man, uh…” He fidgeted with his hands, trying to find the right words. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry too... about what happened to your friend.”

Black looked like he’d been slapped. He huffed out a breath, shook his head, and walked off, evidently having reached his limit for the moment. Potter sighed and watched him go, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Thanks,” he said after a moment of quiet. “But I don’t even know if he ever really was our friend... He tried to kill us too, remember? Poisoned Moony, tried to drive a wedge between Padfoot and the rest of us. I probably would have broken my neck in the undercroft if Winchester-Mini over there hadn’t broken my fall. So, thanks, I guess, but don’t beat yourself up over it. At least not any more than the rest of us, yeah?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, okay. So, is that it?”

Potter shifted his weight, looking back toward the Gryffindor table. “Well.... since you asked... We, uh... we're trying to figure out a study schedule since the OWLs are coming up soon and we’re a man down... Well, two if you count Remus... and... we could use a couple more thinking caps if you want to join our study group.”

Dean laughed. “You want US,” he gestured around the table, “to join YOUR study group? Seriously? You know that’s not how math works, right?”

Cas tilted his head. “Dean has a point. There are four of us--“

“Four and a half-pint,” Dean interjected, nudging Sam in the shoulder.

Cas continued, “--and only two of you. Three if you count Evans. But we still outnumber you.” 

Severus closed his book. “We won’t outnumber them if they join our group; it’ll be four Gryffindors against two Slytherins, a Ravenclaw, and a Hufflepuff.”

Sam spoke up, “Yeah, if you’re just looking at our houses, but I mean if you break it up by tactical advantage, we got ‘em beat in just about every way that matters.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, Sammy’s right; think about it. Moose trumps deer, pretty sure a honey badger can take down a Labrador. Between Sev and Cas, we totally have air superiority locked down. I think the only way they got us beat is in the hot chick department with Evans.”

Severus and Potter both glared at Dean, each making an affronted squawk, “Oy!”

Dean raised his hands, no harm intended. Severus said, “Off limits, Winchester.” Dean raised his eyebrows and tilted his chin towards Potter. Severus shook his head and huffed out a sigh of aggrieved indignation, then waved his hand flippantly in the air and proceeded to aggressively reopen his textbook.

Potter crossed his arms. “You done taking the piss, Winchester?”

Dean grinned. “I think so. No guarantees, though. We’re meeting in the library after class today, right?” he asked the table and got several nods in response. “Well, the more the merrier,” Dean said, looking back at Potter. “We’d love to have you join OUR study group. Tell Evans she’s welcome to join us too... if she can handle being surrounded by this much awesomeness.”

Potter rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a smirk. “I’ll pass along the message, though I’m sure she’ll have something clever to say about your definition of ‘awesome.’”

As Potter returned to the Gryffindor table, Dean turned his attention back to his shepherd’s pie, suddenly ravenous. The weight of Cas’s wing against his back felt comfortable now, like it belonged there, and he had to resist the urge to snuggle back into its warmth.

“So,” Sam said, watching Dean shovel food into his mouth, “what’s our study strategy? Because I don’t think any of you are actually prepared for your OWLs.”

Dean paused mid-chew. “Well, considering I nearly died like twenty times this year, I think I deserve a pass.”

Severus snorted. “That’s not how academic achievement works, Winchester.”

“Maybe not,” Dean grinned, “but I bet between all of us, we’ve got every subject covered.” He squeezed Cas’s hand under the table. “Plus, I’ve got a good feeling about the rest of this year. No more explosions or zombies or experimental dark magic. Should be smooth sailing.”

The others exchanged glances, none looking convinced.

“What?” Dean asked. “Can’t a guy be optimistic?”

Cas frowned. “I think I need to talk to Madame Pomfrey after all. You might have hit your head harder than we thought if you’re entertaining such obvious delusions.”

“If you threaten me with Madame Pomfrey one more time, I swear by all that is holy, I will never speak to you again.”

“That’s just the delusions talking.” Cas grinned. “You love me too much to never speak to me again.”

Dean smiled back. “Yeah, you’re right. I think I kinda do.” 

Dean took a bite of his food, then nearly choked. "Oh, shit, we do have OWLs next week! What the hell did I miss in Charms yesterday?"

Severus chuckled darkly. "We were reviewing the notice-me-not charm, if you must know."

Dean groaned and hid his face in his hands. Sam laughed. "Aw, man, you are so screwed, Dean."

"Dean isn't screwed," Cas' voice was a low sexy rumble that had Dean's brain unhelpfully supplying a 'Not yet ...' that he didn't ask it to. "He has a Ravenclaw, two Slytherins, and a growing assortment of Gryffindors backing him up. He just needs to have a little faith."

Dean shook his head. "How did we get so many Gryffindors?"

Severus sneered. "Because YOU keep collecting them, Winchester, that's how."

"Hey, you can't blame me for Lupin, that one's all on you." 

Remus grinned at Severus. "For which I'm grateful."

Severus sighed. "Perhaps I don't mind taking the blame for this one."

"And hey," Dean said, "if we're going to be blaming anybody, we really should be blaming Sammy, here."

Sam was affronted. "Me? Why? What did I do?"

"You're the little twerp that got sorted into Slytherin and started this whole snowball in the first place. I wouldn't have had a good enough excuse to talk to any of these jokers if you hadn't scared the shit out of me at the Sorting Ceremony."

Cas leaned around Dean to speak to Sam, "A fact for which I am grateful, by the way."

Sam frowned. "So, let me get this straight. You're trying to blame ME for YOUR Hufflepuff tendencies?"

Dean nearly choked on his shepherd's pie again. "Hufflepuff tendencies? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means." Sam grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "You can't help but collect strays and take care of people. Classic Hufflepuff behavior."

"I do not—"

"I am not collecting anybody. I'm just... being friendly."

"You literally started an interhouse war with the Marauders to defend Severus, and now you're making friends with them even after one of them almost got you killed, like, five times this year."

Severus didn't even bother to look up from his book. "The boy has a point, Winchester."

"Et tu, Severus?" Dean glared. 

Cas squeezed his hand under the table. "It's one of the things I find most endearing about you."

"See?" Sam pointed triumphantly. "Even your boyfriend agrees."

Dean felt heat creep up his neck. "He's not my—we're not—"

"Dean," Cas said quietly, and something in his tone made Dean stop mid-protest.

The table fell silent. Dean looked at Cas, whose blue eyes held a question Dean wasn't sure he was ready to answer.

"He's not my boyfriend," Dean said,  emphasizing the words. "Because he's my guardian angel."

Severus groaned in disgust and closed his book, shoving it into his bag. "I can't take any more of this." He stood from the table and gestured between Dean and Cas. "Would the two of you please be so kind as to get whatever THIS is out of your system BEFORE study group. Please? For all our sakes?" He stormed off in a whirl of black school robes that Dean had to admit looked increasingly badass every time he did it.

Remus grinned. "Hate to see him go, but love to watch him leave… And don't mind what he says, he's just jealous; he doesn't think his dignity would survive in tact if he were to say anything even half as romantic out loud." Remus gathered his own things. "See you all tonight." Remus left the table as well, jogging to catch up to Severus, shoulder-checking him affectionately as they disappeared from the Great Hall.

The clock chimed, signaling the end of the lunch period and Sam took one more guzzle of his pumpkin juice before running off and leaving Dean alone with Cas.

"So…" Dean said. "DOES Heaven know it's missing an angel?" Castiel squinted at Dean, his expression puzzled. Dean grinned, "Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven? Cause I think my heart broke your fall." 

Cas groaned, "Oh, no."

Dean laughed and nudged him with his shoulder. "Oh, hey, here's one. Wanna meet up in the Astronomy tower to examine some heavenly bodies?"

"I'm part veela, you ass. It's not even close to the same as an angel."

"I don't know, Cas. Those wings of yours look pretty angelic to me." Dean reached out to run his fingertips along the leading edge of one of them. He couldn't see it past the invisibility charm, but he could feel the feathers fluffing up under his touch. "I might need to see them up close again, just so I can see what the difference is."

Castiel nodded, expression serious. "Severus was right. We need to get this out of our system before we meet with the study group."

Dean smiled. "I don't object. Wanna skip Transfiguration and hang out behind the greenhouses for an hour?"

"You're a very bad influence, Dean."

"Yeah, but you love me."

Cas smiled and squeezed Dean's hand. "Yeah, I think I kinda do."

Dean grinned and pulled Cas to his feet, their fingers still intertwined. "Come on then, angel. Let's go find some trouble to get into."

As they walked out of the Great Hall together, Dean couldn't help but think that maybe Sam getting sorted into Slytherin had been the best thing that ever happened to him.