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They had only introduced themselves as Bill and Fleur, so it wasn’t until Dean saw the family photo on the mantlepiece that the knut dropped, though he supposed he should have realised - given the red hair and how similar looking he was to Ron, beneath the scars.
He wondered (or rather, worried) that he knew about he and Ginny, but then again there seemed to be more important things to worry about. Fleur, who Dean was sure he recognised from long ago but couldn’t place where, was bustling around looking after Hermione - Dean had helped Ron carry her, half conscious, onto a sofa, and then he had backed away as Ron had sobbed.
Just an hour ago he was sure that he was going to die, or rot away in a cell somewhere, but now suddenly he was surrounded by people, in a little cottage, with the sound of the sea in the background. The adrenaline made him shake as it left.
Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked fucking awful, quite frankly, and Dean suspected he didn’t look much better. He’d looked up at Harry as he leant in the doorway of the living room, covered in mud and looking down at his hands. His voice had changed, somehow. Dean felt like he was much younger than him, though of course he wasn’t - Harry was the youngest in their year. Then he’d taken Ron and Hermione off and they’d gone to speak to Ollivander and the goblin. They’d always been a secretive little club, those three.
He’d watched them too, as they ravenously ate, their eyes closing in relief as they chewed, breathing heavily as though it were a sprint to consume as much as possible as quickly as possible, none of them speaking or looking anywhere but their plates. Dean understood - he’d spent long periods of hunger too, when he’d been alone. Dirk had been very good at finding food, and that had helped, but Dean had eventually resorted to stealing from muggle shops, which was how he’d ended up getting caught in the end.
He wanted to speak to Ron, Harry and Hermione, but they were all acting so closed off. They whispered in dark corners, plotting, and every now and then Harry would wander out, up to the boundaries of the protections, and stare out to sea. This did not seem to concern Ron or Hermione - they would continue to whisper together, and when Harry wasn’t there they would touch each other more, brushing strands of hair away from eyes, gripping shoulders, hugging.
Dean wanted to ask them what was going on, what the plan was, what had happened, but he was well aware that he would never get any answers from them. It seemed so long ago, now, that he had bitterly told Seamus that Harry bloody Potter was an utter arsehole, and that he had been betrayed, and that it wasn’t fair that Ron was fine with it when he had never been fine with him. How silly that all seemed now. How childish. So much more had happened.
One night, Dean was staggered to see his old professor stumbling into the room, shouting wildly about a baby. Everyone else seemed to know him very well - they were delighted for him, as was Dean, of course, but he was so surprised to see his old teacher popping up out of nowhere like that, that he ended up melting into the background.
He watched as Harry was named godfather, and wondered how he had lived in the same dorm as Harry for so many years and never realised that he had stayed in touch with Professor Lupin, or that they were so close.
‘Harry’s parents were friends with Professor Lupin,’ Hermione told him quietly, having apparently noticed his look of confusion. ‘They were at school together.’
‘Oh,’ said Dean, watching Harry and Lupin embrace one another. ‘He never mentioned.’ He wasn’t sure why he was surprised. He had long ago realised that there were a lot of things Harry never bothered to mention.
They all talked about the baby and the wine came out, and it was just so weird seeing a teacher with them all like this, like seeing a snail without a shell. But he looked so overwhelmingly happy that Dean couldn’t help but grin either, gratefully accepting a drink himself, and then Lupin was saying, ‘oh, go on then, just one more,’ with a beam, and Bill was opening another bottle Dean realised that he was partying with a teacher. Seamus would have found it hilarious.
‘You’ll have to meet him soon,’ Lupin was saying, his arm slung around Harry’s shoulders as Harry laughed. ‘He’s perfect, you’ll see-’
‘I hope you know I won’t have a bloody clue,’ Harry replied.
‘Well, that makes two of us. Three, actually, Dora doesn’t either- and Harry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-’
‘No,’ said Harry quickly, ‘I shouldn’t have-’
‘No, you should, and if you hadn’t-’
‘Oh, can’t the pair of you just agree you’re both idiots and move on?’ said Ron. ‘Here, Remus, have more.’
Dean, who now felt he was listening in on a more private conversation, walked casually over to Luna, who was smiling serenely. ‘Nice, isn’t it?’ he said to her. ‘Haven’t heard any good news in a long while.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘And Friday is a good day to have a baby - they are loving and giving, you know. Not to mention the warbling winkles you get at this time of year, they’ll have a very good effect.’
‘Oh, yeah, totally,’ said Dean.
Eventually, Professor Lupin returned to his wife and new baby, but the rest of them continued drinking, too much in good spirits to stop, though he saw Harry and Bill walk into the kitchen - as Dean was closest to the door he could hear murmured, serious voices, but above the noise of the still celebrating others, he couldn’t make sense of them.
‘He’ll be such a wonderful father,’ Hermione was squealing, looking far happier than Dean had seen her since they had arrived at the cottage. ‘Just think what he’ll be able to teach him - oh, and Tonks too, she’ll be fantastic-’
‘And he’s got Tonks’s powers too!’ said Ron excitedly. ‘How brilliant is that, I’d have loved to have been able to do stuff like that growing up - just think when he gets to Hogwarts-’
Fleur tried to go through to the kitchen too, but ended up backing back in. ‘If they don’t want them cleared, we must keep on drinking,’ she said, a slightly forced smile on her face as she returned the goblets she was carrying to their owners.
‘I’m all right with that!’ said Ron happily. ‘It’s fantastic - hey, do you think he’ll end up as clumsy as Tonks too?’
‘Well clumsiness is associated with metamorphic abilities,’ pondered Hermione. ‘As their bodies are constantly shifting, they’re not always aware of their own personal space-’
‘Will he be a… you know? A werewolf? I didn’t want to ask…’ Dean said hesitantly, and he immediately regretted it, because at once the room grew colder.
‘Dunno,’ said Ron stiffly. ‘We’ll see.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so,’ said Luna vaguely. ‘Doesn’t make sense for it to pass down like that, if you stop and think about it.’
The door opened again, and Bill came in, followed by Harry. Clearly keen to bring back the festive atmosphere, Hermione beamed at him. ‘And Harry! Godfather! You’ll be wonderful-’
He smiled - Dean thought it was a little wry, a little tense. ‘Yeah, I was just thinking about that. I hope I get to meet him,’ he said. ‘Soon.’
‘Perhaps there can be a way,’ said Bill. ‘We can’t be on the Floo, of course, but I’m sure if we tightened security at Andromeda’s… ‘
Harry seemed to wince, and take a breath. ‘Everyone’s still drinking then?’ he said heavily, and he gratefully took another goblet of wine.
Perhaps it was the amount of wine Dean had drank over the evening, perhaps it was merely that this was the first time Harry had been approachable, but he waited until Harry was stood by the window, looking out to sea again, and stood beside him.
‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘On the godfather thing.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I don’t really know what being a godfather involves,’ said Dean. ‘It’s a religious thing, isn’t it?’
He’d never seen Harry drunk, but he was sure he was - his eyes were slightly glassy and there was a red tinge to his cheekbones. ‘I think it means show up after a very long time, bond and then die,’ said Harry bitterly, looking into his goblet before taking another drink. ‘I might skip some steps to make it easier on him.’
Dean had no idea what to say. He wasn’t sure what Harry was referring to, and it was very unlike Harry to say these sort of things anyway - or was it? He didn’t actually know him that well, after all those years. He decided to ignore it. ‘Does it automatically make Ginny godmother or do you have to be-’
‘No, we’re not together anymore,’ Harry said abruptly. ‘We broke up ages ago.’
Dean stared at him. If he had been sober, he would have backed off then, but instead he watched Harry stare down into his goblet of wine, his jaw tense. ‘You’re not?’
Harry drank again. He looked extraordinarily pissed off. ‘No,’ he said shortly.
‘I wanted to know if you or Ron had heard from her, to know if she’s safe-’
‘She is,’ interrupted Harry, now looking out of the window. He drank again, deeply, apparently battling with something, and then sighed. ‘I’m sure you’ll see her soon.’
Dean suddenly realised what the problem was, and almost laughed. ‘You know I’ve… Moved on from that? Can’t really compete against The Chosen One,’ he joked.
‘I assure you, you can,’ said Harry, hollowly. ‘It’s not much of a selling point.’
‘I’m just saying, I think about… someone else a lot more now.’
Harry finally glanced at him, but then was almost immediately looking back out of the window. He looked very pained. ‘I don’t think about Ginny at all,’ he said.
The lie was particularly annoying, Dean thought later when he was laying in bed, not only because Harry was so atrociously bad at lying, but also because it showed that he didn’t trust him. But then again, as he had been reminded so many times tonight - he didn’t really know Harry at all.