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“It’s… less than I imagined.” The disappointment welled inside Dean and he was powerless to stop it. He’d spent so long imagining some idyllic life with Seamus after the war that the reality of it – peeling paint and creaking, dusty floorboards – was painful.
“Dean,” Seamus said softly, his palm warm where it rested gently on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We can make this work.”
The curtains were only half-hanging from the pole and the glass was smeary, looking out onto an unappealing stretch of dreary London, not a million miles away from The Leaky Cauldron. It wasn’t raining at the moment but the dirty streaks on the window were embarrassingly obvious in the watery sunlight of an early spring morning.
Dean looked out of the window into the alley beyond, taking in the cobbles and the dented car abandoned amongst the empty takeaway containers littering the ground. He sat down heavily on the grimy floor, crossing his legs beneath him and propping his chin up morosely with one palm which was clearly the best way to deal with their current predicament.
“I wanted it to be perfect for you, Shay,” Dean confessed with a heavy sigh. “You’ve been through so much and I just wanted this place to be a fresh start for us. Our clean slate.”
Seamus smiled so wide his blue eyes crinkled as he sat down opposite Dean, apparently uncaring of the dust as he cupped Dean’s face gently in his palms. Seamus was still grinning and, despite himself, Dean felt his lips curling into a gentle smile as his boyfriend’s happiness proved infectious.
“It can still be all of those things,” Seamus said firmly, brushing a chaste kiss over Dean’s full lips before he let himself fall back onto the floor, spreading out like he was making snow angels and giggling delightedly when Dean settled down beside him.
“We can make this place look amazing,” Seamus said and there was something sincere in his voice that made Dean’s heart feel too big for his chest. “This is our own flat, Dean! We can make it whatever we want!”
Dean felt butterflies forming in his stomach but he fought down against the hope, unwilling because he didn’t want to be disappointed again.
“But it’s messy here,” he said and Seamus sighed softly, rolling his eyes with way too much fondness to have any negative effect as his arm wound gently around his boyfriend’s shoulders.
“You’re a wizard, Dean,” Seamus said pointedly and… yeah, okay, he probably had a point.
“Fine,” Dean said, trying not to smile as he pushed himself into a sitting position and helped his boyfriend sit up too. “If we’re going to make this place great without raiding Gringotts or blowing something up –” and here Dean paused to give a suddenly-red-faced Seamus a knowing look. “– then we better get inventive.”
Seamus raised an eyebrow and wordlessly gestured for Dean to continue.
“What about those?” the older boy asked immediately, pointing to some seemingly random planks of wood leaning against the wall nearby. Seamus smiled cheerfully.
“Shelves,” he said instantly which wasn’t the worst idea ever. Dean had to concede his point there.
“Okay,” the older boy agreed, beginning to smile now despite himself. “What about the windowsills? Herbs for potions maybe? Or flowers?”
“Now you’re getting it!” Seamus exclaimed and he looked mildly ecstatic. “And that crate we carried all of my Ma’s crockery in can be a coffee table and... and we’ll get cosy blankets and colourful decorations, and new books and house plants from Neville! And - and –”
“Someone’s getting carried away,” Dean teased in a singsong voice, making Seamus huff good-naturedly as he looked around the dusty open space with growing excitement.
“I don’t care! We’re going to make this place alive and beautiful and ours!” Seamus’ declaration made Dean’s face soften and he couldn’t resist pulling Seamus onto his lap. The blond boy smiled when Dean hooked his chin over the younger boy’s shoulder and Seamus settled back against the warmth of his broad chest comfortingly, tilting his head back to look at the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Seamus pulled a face, his freckly nose scrunching up cutely as he considered it.
“I think we should get fairy lights,” Seamus decided, blushing slightly but looking fairly determined.
“Whimsical,” Dean commented and Seamus reached behind him to elbow his boyfriend awkwardly in the ribs, suppressing a smile with difficulty.
“I think you meant pretty,” Seamus corrected and Dean resisted the urge to say something cheesy about how Seamus was pretty but he thought the younger boy might be able to see it in his eyes.
“Maybe I did,” Dean conceded and Seamus smiled, leaning back to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek.
“What about the walls?” Seamus asked, biting his lip as he looked at the cracked and peeling plaster. “I know we could get paint or try transfiguring something but… that seems a bit impersonal I think. Maybe we could put your art up there?” Seamus suggested cautiously but, predictably, Dean went red. He could get shy about his drawings.
“Or we could put up postcards and posters and photos,” Seamus said and Dean’s lips curved up when he saw Seamus’ dimples creasing his cheeks.
“Postcards, huh?” Dean’s chocolate brown eyes were sparkling. “They’d have to be authentic of course. I think that means going on holiday.”
“I’ve always liked the idea of France,” Seamus said and Dean’s lips curved up gently.
“I think we can manage that, Shay.”
Seamus clambered to his feet and Dean followed him, watching as the blond boy ran his fingertip through the dust on the windowsill with a worried look which he was apparently keen to hide from his boyfriend. Dean’s eyes grew soft as he pushed the window open with a creak, drawing his wand.
Seamus watched him questioningly and Dean smiled, murmuring a soft word as the dust motes lifted into the air, merging into a number of tiny delicate silver butterflies that fluttered out into the washed-out London sky.
Seamus’ eyes sparkled as he watched them depart.
“The building would’ve burnt down if I tried something tricky like that,” the blond boy said and the wistful sigh in his voice was almost too quiet to hear. Dean brushed his cheek gently with his fingertips.
“You have more beauty than you know,” he said softly. “Try to remember that, Shay.”
“Anything for you,” Seamus teased but his blue eyes were light and happier now, and Dean relaxed when Seamus entwined their fingers gently between them.
“We can put photos on the walls too,” Dean said suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere. “We can have pictures of our families and our friends at Hogwarts –”
“And that picture of us at Ron and Hermione’s wedding,” Seamus interjected dreamily. That had been a lovely night, spent eating delicious food and dancing together in their best dress robes as the love surrounded them like a blanket.
Dean wordlessly pulled Seamus into a hug, wrapping his arms loosely around his boyfriend’s waist as he pressed a gentle kiss to Seamus’ soft blond hair. Remembering the wedding got Dean thinking about the ring box he’d left at his mother’s house for safekeeping during the move.
Soon, Dean decided when Seamus tilted his head back to kiss Dean. I’ll ask him soon.
One of the silvery butterflies was still fluttering around them and Seamus’ shining eyes sparkled as he watched it fondly. He was so beautiful and Dean loved him so, so much.
Seamus gave the butterfly a gentle brush with his fingertip and it fluttered out through the open window into a London that was still just waking up.
The rays of the early morning sun were just beginning to clear the rooftops and they painted the world gold.
When Dean kissed Seamus then, it felt like hope.