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between friendship and something more

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Seamus balled his fists.

Across the common room, Dean sat with his lengthy fingers interlaced in Ginny Weasley's hair. His mouth was slightly open, slowly nearing towards her puckered, pink lips. Seamus tore his eyes away from the two of them, a sour taste building in the back of his throat. 

They had no shame, snogging and fighting and making up in every corner of Hogwarts. When the two of them were together, it was like the rest of the world melted away and no one else existed.

At least, Seamus certainly didn't exist. Perhaps he never had, not to Dean - not in the way he wanted to exist.  

Where was the line drawn between friendship and something more? That question haunted Seamus, worse now than ever. Were the midnight talks while everyone else was absent in sleep - when Dean would stare deep into his eyes and understand all that he said better than anyone, and tell him intimate details that he'd never said to anyone else - simply a testament to how close their friendship was? Had ignoring their dates at the end of the Yule Ball to boisterously laugh and wildly dance in circles around the dancefloor been something only Seamus had spent the rest of the month thinking about? Was practicing kissing in their fifth year meant to be just practicing, even when it lasted for far longer than practicing was meant to?

They'd crossed past that line, Seamus knew, deep down. They'd crossed it long ago, and maybe Dean hadn't realized it yet, or maybe he had, and kissing Ginny Weasley was easier than coming to terms with it.

Seamus' fingernails dug deeper into his clasped palm.