It was Laundry Day at Seamus's house, and he was required to remove all of his bedding, collect any dirty clothes left in his room, and take it down to the laundry in the basement. It left Seamus a lot of time to think about the day before.
Seamus was not entirely sure why Parvati had kissed him at Neville's birthday party. It wasn't an unwelcome kiss. She'd been his Valentine date by the random draw that had been conducted by Professor Trelawney, who'd offered to do it when they were discussing it in the courtyard below the North Tower. It hadn't been a bad date, and they had become good friends.
Yesterday, they'd kissed for the first time. Or more accurately, she'd kissed him, though he hadn't been exactly unwilling and unreactive. It hadn't been a peck on the cheek, nor a quick kiss on the lips, but what the boys knew the girls called "THE KISS." Their mouths had been open to each other and their hands had roamed over each other's bodies. He'd relieved it all night in his dreams. Of course in his dreams it hadn't ended when his hand discovered her bare bottom.
Seamus folded up the quilt that his great-grandmother had made for him carefully, placing it on the chair. She'd given it to him when he was five, and told him that would give him good dreams when it was on his bed. Ever since day he'd kept it on his.
In the dream right before he woke up they'd been naked. He knew what Parvati looked naked, and she knew what he looked like as well, though probably not with the morning wood that he had at the moment. She probably knew what he looked like better than he knew her, actually because he'd been absolutely shameless last spring when the girls had moved into the nursery in Hermione's wardrobe in the boys' dorm. It took almost a week for the Weasley Twins to fix everything their explosion had damaged in and around the First Year Girl's Dorm.
Seamus hadn't quite been sure why Professor McGonagall had a problem with the first year girls joining Hermione in her closet. Of course, he had no idea why. It wasn't like there wasn't enough space. He did agree that Professor Trelawney was a dingbat though.
Seamus examined the light blanket he used in the summer. It needed washed today, probably due last night's dream. He hoped his mother wouldn't look too closely at them, and especially not the sheets. He was fairly certain that if she did, there would be another edition of the talk, and the one he'd been given the week before had been bad enough.
He was still a bit puzzled why Parvati had decided to kiss him ... or to kiss anyone at all. They were only twelve, after all. True, they'd seen what had happened to Hermione, up close, but that wasn't in itself a reason. True, Parvati was the girl Seamus was closest to, and he was the boy that she was closest to. Maybe it had been just a want to see what it was like kiss.
It didn't feel like that though. By the time his hand had found her bare bottom it had felt like something more, something he wanted to explore. It was something that until it ended he hadn't realized how much he wanted it to continue, and still wanted more of it.
His mother may have felt he was too young for the boy girl thing, but he'd tasted Parvati's lips and didn't intend to go back. As he carried his bedding down to the laundry, he wondered if Parvati felt the same. He passed the phone in the hall, and caught a glance of his mother's frequently used numbers, as well as the notebook kept there to take messages. His mother could never remember a phone number, finding floo addresses to be easier to remember. The big "Note Book" printed across its cover reminded him of one tiny fact.
He hurried to deposit his load, before bounding back up two flights of steps. Somewhere in his trunk was a scrap of paper with all the muggle residing Gryffindor just finished first year's phone numbers on it. And Parvati's number was on it.
It had not been easy to decide how to make the picture that would grace the cover of Letters to the Boy Who Lived. He'd considered doing a picture of Ginny writing the letters, perhaps at the kitchen table of the Burrow, but after meeting the girl, he was sure that there was no way that he could get her to sit long enough to sketch her and the environment. Ginny Weasley seemed to be a force of nature.
Then he'd considered going with Harry writing, as he'd often seen him in the dorm, writing one of those letters to Ginny in response. That seemed a bit in reverse, though. He'd sketched a few, and even started one painting, now put aside unfinished for now. Then he thought about doing Harry with Hedwig, which brought a whole host of poses and ideas.
There was one finished painting already, destined for the back cover, with Harry standing at the window of the Gryffindor dorm that he'd shared, with Hedwig coming to land on Harry's outstretched arm. The light of the moon through the window just caught Harry's face and the lightening shaped scar on his forehead. Dean thought it was a masterpiece, but it wasn't right for the cover. It was of the reception of the letters, but somehow it didn't comprise what he wanted.
That was why he'd taken the underground to a park in the green belt around London, and now stood in the highest place he could find overlooking the park, working on the final painting. Catching the light just right for the countryside below the already sketched Hedwig and flight was important.
When Ginny had told him of how she'd sent that first letter, going outside and attaching that letter to Hedwig, not really knowing if she'd get a response, she had started to spin an image in Dean's mind. She'd told him how she'd launched Hedwig into the air, and then watched as Hedwig had disappeared into the distance.
Dean had reversed the image, with Ginny a small figure in the background, nearly lost in the countryside that Hedwig flew above. But the image hadn't lost her. The outer side of the letter she'd sent had "Harry Potter" in bold black ink, slightly obscured by Hedwig's claws, but a corner was folded back, revealing Ginny's tentative yet clear signature, just a bit closer the view than the recipient's name.
The green open fields were done now, and the sky with its cirrus clouds was complete. It was time to finish Hedwig. Looking up from the painting, he spotted Hedwig, landed on the railing around his position. He hadn't expected the owl, but as the owl looked at him, one sentence came to mind.
Hedwig was ready for her closeup.