A/N: This was inspired by Alfie and Devon's own karaoke version of Twist and Shout, which, if you haven't already, I definitely recommend you watch. Also, the song that the man sings to his girlfriend is Don't Go Away, by Oasis, if you were unsure. Both are lovely songs, undeniably. Anyway...

The day after, Seamus reflected, he had never truly known what it was like to get "sloshed". There were times when he drank a lot in honour of Gryffindor's victory, or when he drank in order to seek refuge, or when he drank just because he felt like it, but he had never truly been drunk. Not until that moment, when he downed yet another gin and tonic.

The day after, Seamus could only remember a few events occurring when they arrived at that quiet little pub on the corner of a street a few blocks away from their house. They were as follows.

( One )

"Dean, where are we going?"

"Out. We're going out."

"Really? I didn't guess that when you dragged me outdoors five minutes ago," Seamus sighed, struggling to keep up with Dean's long strides. "Where are we going? And don't tell me "out" again, because I swear I will hex you to another country."

Dean grinned. "We're going to a pub, Shay."

"A pub? What, like the Leaky Cauldron? Why don't we just apparate, then?" Seamus asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Not a pub in the wizarding world," said Dean. "We're going to a muggle pub that my mum used to go to every now and then. It's just down the road, so there's really no need to apparate."

"It would be faster," Seamus muttered, but Dean rolled his eyes and kept walking. "So, what's the occasion? Why're we going out?"

"No reason. I just thought, y'know, since both of us are rubbish cooks, you might want a decent meal."

"You want to get sloshed, don't you?"

"You know me too well."

( Two )

A certain scent of pies and meat and alcohol clung to the air, filling Seamus's nostrils to an almost overwhelming state. Chairs and tables cluttered the room, with very few occupants beside them, and a long stage stretched across the wall adjacent to them. An old man with a beard white as snow stood behind a counter in front of the pair, beckoning them forward.

"Name's Fergus. You look familiar," he turned his glassy stare toward Dean, raising an eyebrow. "Have we met?"

"You might know my mum and step-dad," Dean explained. "Surname's Thomas. You usually only addressed them as that."

"Ah, I remember," said Fergus, nodding. "Lovely woman... so happy... and who's this, ey?"

Seamus felt his cheeks go red when he met the unnerving gaze of the man. He looked down at his hands, desperate for distraction, as he and Dean had never had to explain their situation to anyone, and, despite their friends accepting what was happening between them, others did not.

"My boyfriend. His name's Seamus."

Pause. Seamus didn't dare look up, but felt a certain warmth around his fingers where Dean had laced his own.

"I see," Fergus said, turning around and fiddling with the glasses that adorned shelves behind him. "Well, no use standing around and chit-chatting... got loads of other people to serve. What can I get you?"

Seamus frowned, uncertain of what was sold in muggle pubs. He had had some alcoholic drinks not sold typically in the wizarding world, but none gave him the same feeling as firewhiskey did. Thankfully, Dean stepped forward and ordered for the two of them, and Seamus found himself eying a glass of "gin and tonic" with drawn eyebrows.

Dean smirked. "Just drink it, you sodder."

"All right, all right," Seamus said, plucking a wedge of lime from the glass with careful fingers. He pressed the cup to his lips, tilting back his head and swallowing. It tasted strange, he decided. Not bad, but odd. It was unlike firewhiskey, of that he was sure, and yet it was good enough for he and Dean to order four more following the first.

It was in those few moments, Seamus's mind began to get a little clouded.

( Three )

Couples lined up near the stage, holding hands, twirling, dancing. Seamus wasn't fond of the song playing - he wasn't particularly fond of any muggle songs, but pretended he was for Dean's sake - but he envied the pairs that stood with smiling faces and entwined fingers. It was only when Seamus saw Dean looking at them, too, with an expression that must have matched the Irish wizard's own, that Seamus got to his feet and grinned himself.

"Let's d-dance," he said.

"I'm rotten at dancing," Dean muttered.

"N-No, you're rotten at l-lying."

He laced his fingers with Dean's, hoisting him to his feet. "You don't even know what song this is, Seamus."

"S'never stopped me before."

A dance-floor that stretched the duration of ground in between the tables and stage was already alive with movement. Seamus found himself enveloped by dancers of all different colours; he couldn't shake the happy feeling in his chest, or the smile curved on his lips, or the look of utmost love he sent Dean. No eyes turned in their direction when they started dancing; twisting, swirling, swaying. No-one even cared during the slow songs, when Seamus rested his head on Dean's shoulder and smiled quietly to himself.

Dean pressed his lips to Seamus's forehead, kissing him gently. "Shay?" he whispered, quiet so that his words were only to him.

"Mm?"

"I... I love you."

Seamus buried his face into Dean's jacket, feeling warmth touch his cheeks. "I love you, too, Dean."

( Four )

"A-And don't go aw-away, say what you s-say."

Seamus pressed the martini glass to his lips, taking cautious sips as he eyed the couple on stage. A woman - no older than eighteen, Seamus assumed - stood in a yellow knee-length dress, positively beaming at the man before her. The latter gripped her hand tight and had a crooked grin, and his voice cracked as he sang into the microphone in his other hand. Nonetheless, it was a scene that made Seamus smile himself.

"But s-say that you'll stay, forever and a d-d-day in the time of my l-life."

The song itself made Seamus's heart thump loudly. He could easily remember when he had first heard it. It had been only a few months after the fall of You-Kn - Voldemort, and it was the second time that Seamus had ever been to Dean's house. Dean had lead him upstairs, to his room, and played the song over and over while they sat on his bed and talked.

"'Cause I need m-more time, yes I - I need more time, just to make t-things right."

Eventually, they had ran out of things to talk about and Seamus couldn't take the silence any longer. They had kissed very few times while at Hogwarts, and Dean had, at first, recoiled from the touch, uncertain due to those long months of hiding. But eventually he leaned into it, and Seamus had found himself listening to that song on repeat for the next few weeks.

"So don't g-go away..."

Seamus felt Dean's hand touch his own and he smiled back at him. His boyfriend. And finally there was finality in the term. Because Seamus loved Dean, and Dean loved Seamus, and they lived together, and that was all he could find himself thinking about as the couple on stage took their leave.

"Shay?" came Dean's quiet voice.

"Mmm?"

"D'you wanna sing something, too?"

"I-I'm ro-rotten at singing,." Seamus smirked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sod off." He pulled Seamus to his feet, his fingers warm against the Irish wizard's skin. "C'mon, let's find something."

On the stage, Seamus found it increasingly easy to call upon his "Gryffindor courage". He and Dean were handed a microphone each, and they selected a song at random - one that Dean was certain he had forced Seamus into listening some months ago.

Almost as soon as the music started playing, Dean started dancing; twisting his hips from side to side, swaying his arms, holding the microphone inches below his lips. Seamus soon followed suit, not entirely certain of his movements but sure that he wanted to be there, beside Dean, singing and dancing and just soaking in the sheer greatness of the scene.

He wasn't aware of the words forming at his lips, only knowing what Dean said, instead. "Well, shake it up, baby, now..." Did he know this song? It was possible. By The Insects, or something of the sort, wasn't it? All he knew was that Dean was an artist in many ways; in his words, in his hands, in his expressions. Seamus could never name what it was that drew him to Dean. Maybe it was something above them, like Dean always said; destiny, or fate, or something else that Seamus had been too distracted by Dean's eyes to listen to.

"You know you twist so fine..."

Seamus's body was close to Dean's now, he found. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Dean's, couldn't look away from the chocolate brown he had always admired. He laced his fingers with Dean's, smirking as words probably incomprehensible fell from his mouth. Dean laughed as he sang, his eyes crinkling as his smile broadened.

"And let me know that you're mine."

"I'm yours," Seamus whispered under his breath, burying his head into Dean's chest as the song continued.

"Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now..."

( Five )

Dean pressed his lips to Seamus's temple, smiling still. "I love you," he said quietly, resting his head against his boyfriend's forehead.

Seamus balled his fists against Dean's chest, lifting his face and kissing him delicately on the lips. When he pulled back, he grinned. "Didja think I was kidding e-earlier, D-Dean? I l-love you, t-too."

"I know, I just wanted to hear you say it again." Dean's eyelashes brushed against Seamus's cheek as his eyes fluttered closed.

Dean's hand found Seamus's, closing tight around it, a habit Seamus had become accustomed to the first night they slept together. It was then, Seamus realised, as Dean's breathing slowed and he quietly fell asleep, that he did know the song they had sung at the pub. Dean had played it, insisting that it was one of his favourite songs, and Seamus couldn't refuse if it was that important to him.

A small smile curled on his lips. It had been the first night they'd slept together...