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They're sharing a desk in Defence Against the Dark Arts the first time it happens, Dean on the aisle and Cas beside him, filling out a general knowledge quiz. Professor Singer is walking the room, inspecting their work, but despite his somewhat imposing appearance, Cas isn't worried: Singer has a reputation for being kind and fair, and anyway, he's the head of Ravenclaw House. More importantly, though, he's the only American member of faculty, and given that Dean quite clearly feels isolated on that count, Castiel hopes the two of them might bond. So when the Professor stops by their desk, Cas half expects them to start sharing anecdotes.
Instead, Dean flinches, hunching protectively over his work, avoiding eye contact. Singer's brows go up in surprise, but he doesn't comment, flicking Cas a quick, interested glance before moving on again.
Dean relaxes a moment later, and though Cas is puzzled, he isn't in a position to ask questions. Besides, it's only their first day of classes: for all his excitement at settling into their dormitory the night before – he and Dean have two other roommates, Kevin Tran and Aaron Bass, both of whom seem friendly enough – Dean is clearly uncertain about his place at Hogwarts. Cas decides not to say anything, but all the same, he makes a note to watch and see if it happens again.
Dean is fine in History of Magic (Professor Visyak) and Herbology (Professor Harvelle), and while he's clearly unsettled by broomstick riding, that's nothing to do with Professor Mills and everything to do with the fact that Dean is scared of flying. (He'd confessed as much last night, when Cas asked him whether he'd travelled to England by magical or mundane means, and Dean had shuddered and told him all about aeroplanes, which sounded frankly terrifying.)
When the school day ends with no further incidents, Cas decides to set the whole thing aside. So Dean flinched when a teacher got close – so what? There's nothing unusual about first day nerves. Except that then, it happens again, this time at dinner: Professor Turner shows up late and walks past their seats to reach the dais, and even though he's not paying any attention to either of them, Dean still ducks his head and shudders until he's gone.
Singer and Turner, Cas thinks, frowning. But not Visyak, Harvelle or Mills. What's the difference between them all? What's making Dean so nervous?
Unaware of Cas's thoughts, Dean snags himself a third slice of pie and eats it with every appearance of gusto.
*
The next day, Cas keeps an even closer eye on Dean's reactions to his teachers, and feels increasingly sick as a pattern emerges. His friend is fine in Care of Magical Creatures, even when Professor Hanscum comes right up beside him and pats his shoulder, but in Transfiguration, all it takes is a mildly raised eyebrow from Professor Henriksen, and Dean goes white as a sheet. It's the same in Divination and Potions, too: Professor Moseley doesn't phase him a bit, but from the minute they set foot in Professor Crowley's class, Dean is visibly nervous, and doesn't calm down until the lesson is over.
By dinner time, Cas has just about lost his appetite. He tries to tell himself it's just a coincidence, that he's reading too much into things – he does that, sometimes; gets obsessed with an idea or a pet project and loses all sense of proportion – but deep down, he knows he's right.
Dean only flinches from adult men.
And Cas doesn't think it's because of anything good.
*
One of the few advantages to having older brothers – or at least, in having an older brother like Gabriel; Cas is yet to be convinced that Michael, Lucifer and Balthazar are good for anything at all – is that they know things first years don't, and can sometimes be persuaded to share that information. Such as, for instance, the fact that an excellent place to talk privately after lights out, assuming your house common room isn't an option – which it isn't; Cas doesn't want to risk an audience – is in a small storage room beneath the Astronomy Tower, which is meant to be locked at all times, but which Gabriel has long since repurposed for himself.
In point of fact, it's more a turret than a room: small, circular, and full almost to bursting with two old couches, a wonky chaise-lounge and a fat leather armchair with springs sticking out of the back.
'Can't believe we just did that,' Dean laughs, sounding halfway between scared and impressed. They made it out of the dormitories without any trouble, but halfway to their destination, Castiel heard the caretaker coming, and they had to run for it. Still, it doesn't look like they've been chased at all, and as he shuts the turret door, Cas takes a moment to settle his pulse rate, watching as Dean thumps himself down on the slightly bigger couch. Moonlight comes in through a single high window, bright enough to see by, and after a moment, Cas picks his way over – there isn't much floor-space – and perches on the edge of the chaise-lounge, opposite his friend.
'So,' Cas says, suddenly nervous.
'So,' says Dean. He leans forward, elbows propped on his knees. 'You, uh. You wanted to ask me something?'
Castiel hugs his stomach. Nods. Stares at the ground. 'Dean, I want you to know, I'm not... I'm not very good at making friends. Or with people at all, usually. So if I upset you, I want you to know it's not on purpose. OK?'
'OK,' says Dean, frowning. 'What is it, Cas?'
'There's no easy way to do this, so I'm just... all right.' He takes a breath, and forces himself to look Dean in the eye. 'You're scared of the male teachers. Only the men, Dean. Whenever they get close, you flinch, and I wanted –' he licks his lips, mouth suddenly dry, '– I wanted to make sure that you were all right.'
All the blood drains from Dean's face. His lips twist horribly, like he's about to start yelling, and then he slumps, like getting angry would take too much effort.
'I'm all right,' he says, hoarsely. 'Here.'
'Oh,' says Cas – and then, in understanding, 'Oh.'
'Yeah,' says Dean. He gives a miserable tug on his pyjama sleeve. 'I just, my dad – you gotta understand, Cas, it's not his fault, he just needed me to learn, and I'm not real sma–'
He breaks off, mouth snapping shut, and stares fixedly at the wall.
'You don't think you're smart?' Cas asks, gently. 'Dean, you're in Ravenclaw. Clearly, you're intelligent. And even if you weren't, that's not an excuse for your father to – to hit you.' He flushes, hating the baldness of it.
'It is, though,' Dean whispers, and Cas's heart breaks a little. 'Cas, I messed things up, I nearly got my brother killed, I deserved so much worse than what he did, and when the letter came, he told me what boarding schools were like over here, about caning and, and other stuff, he said it might straighten me out, only nobody talked about it when we arrived, and I just –' he's breathing too hard, too fast, eyes bright like he's on the brink of tears, '– are they going to hit me here, too? Is that how it works?'
'Nobody's going to hit you, Dean,' Cas says, fiercely. 'I promise you, they won't. And if anyone ever tries it, then I'll – I'll turn them into a newt!'
Dean chokes like he's stuck between tears and laughter, and before he can second-guess himself, Cas reaches over and loops his arms around Dean's shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. Dean makes a soft, surprised noise, then leans into it, wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist as he slides off the couch to his knees.
'Thanks, Cas,' he whispers, his forehead against Cas's collarbone. 'And just for the record, I think you're great at making friends.'
'You make it easy,' says Cas, but he blushes anyway.
*
Dean stops flinching their third week of class.
They celebrate with pie.