Work Text:
On the grounds there was a large tree overseeing the lake that was Dean’s favorite spot. He would often go there to think or draw. He was sitting against that familiar trunk now. It was still a little too brisk for most of his fellow students to be milling about the grounds so he had taken advantage of the peace and quiet.
He had gone there to draw but his sketchbook was currently forgotten in his lap. His mind was full to the brim with what he had started referring to as his Problem; the problem being why things felt so odd with Ginny. It should have all worked easily; Ginny Weasley was a brilliant girl, and well fit, but despite those things everything felt off.
Sometimes it wasn’t so bad, when it was just the two of them spending time alone, and he could fake it without trying too hard. Then she would rest her pretty head on his shoulder or hold his hand and something indescribable inside of him would recoil.
Touching wasn’t the source of the problem; they had snogged many times and Dean had enjoyed it immensely. Ginny was a fantastic kisser. Once she had even let him get a hand up her skirt and it had been so mind blowing that it had taken all he had to be a gentleman and not brag to Seamus about this wonderful new thing he had experienced.
The odd thing was that Dean liked touching Ginny, talking with Ginny, spending time with Ginny on the Quidditch pitch, but there was something just below the surface that felt wrong.
Dean sighed and leaned back against the trunk. He squinted up at the sun in the sky and sighed again when he realized he’d done nothing but think himself around in circles. It left him even more frustrated than before.
Apparently it was all leaving Ginny frustrated too. Almost all of their meetings ended in arguments now and she didn’t seek him out as much as she used to. If Dean was being honest with himself, it was a bit of a relief.
The sounds of leaves and twigs breaking behind him made Dean’s body tense. He looked over his shoulder to find Seamus approaching him. His body relaxed at once.
“‘Lo, Sea,” he greeted with an easy smile and inched over so that his mate could rest against the trunk beside him.
Seamus plopped down gracelessly and immediately glanced over at what Dean had scribbled on the page with a grin. “Thought I migh’ find y’here, Thomas,” he chirped and sniffed into his sleeve.
Dean raised a brow.
“Ginny’s lookin’ fer ye,” Seamus explained with a shrug. “She asked me ta make an effort. Told her I’d do me best.”
Dean frowned and focused his attention back on the half formed dragon on the page in front of him. The tight, anxious feeling was in his chest again.
“Don’ worry, mate, she’d never expect me ta’ find you so soon. Yer safe for a bit,” he said and winked. The slighter boy leaned into him so their shoulders brushed. Dean felt soothed by the casual contact.
He gave Seamus a small smile. “Thanks, Sea. I just wanted t’get this finished.” He gestured to his drawing.
Seamus studied Dean’s face. “Of course y’do, mate, because it’ll be bloody brilliant. Can’t interrupt artistic genius,” he replied cheerfully. “Mind if I sit with ye’ for a bit?”
There was something in his light eyes that made Dean think that maybe he knew, or understood, what was going on but that he was choosing not to say anything. Dean nodded and felt Seamus settle in beside him to watch as his pencil began to move across the page again. The thought circles, for the moment, had stopped and Dean could just be.