A/N. My first chaptered fic, go me. I don't know how often I'll update this and it's not going to be awfully long but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Please review if you have any thoughts. I'm not going to beg but it is amazing to hear feedback :')

Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling. I don't own anything.

Why do I have to love you?

Séamus POV.

Merlin, I was so in love with him.

Dean.

Dean Thomas.

His name flows so perfectly from my lips. He would be proud of me for speaking so eloquently, I know that. He's always trying to teach me new words! Dean admires creativity. Dean is the very personification of creativity and of generosity and kindness. But mainly creativity. Art is his life. He expresses himself in everything he does. He thrives to become a successful artist; as good as he has the potential to be. He needs to practise every type of creative activity he could, he said once. It would all make him a better artist. Dean makes sure he is into everything. He reads. He writes little stories and poetry. He plays a few musical instruments (piano, guitar and violin), always sings to himself and listens to music whenever he's in our dorm. He loves to take photographs too. "Memories are important," he said, "You'll treasure them some day. Plus, they help my creativity". He likes to invent new spells too, although he is much more talented than I am, not that that would be hard. I tend to end up with fire and explosions. I don't think Dean minds though. He always laughs kindly at me and helps me clean up. He's kind like that.

Drawing is Dean's passion though, his utmost love. In all my years of knowing him, and there have been quite a few, I have never seen him without a pad of paper and a pencil. He has hundreds of them filled with little grey sketches of seemingly inconspicuous objects and of people and various scenes. There are many more with enchanting visions of vivid colourful paintings. He told me once that in order to become an excellent artist he needs to experience life to the fullest. He said he wants to experience all the moments, all the emotions in the world. I didn't have the heart to tell him that that is practically impossible. Nothing would break Dean's stride. And that's how it all began.

I told him I'd help him. That's what friends do, right? I didn't realise just how hard that was going to be.

It started off with him drawing my face. Dean could turn a boring, average face like me into a wonder to behold, filled with dense shadows and light and colours and shades and textures. He gave me new dimensions on the page. Then he asked if he could draw my body. I was a little unsure at first but sure it was Dean, my best mate Dean.

I let him.

He made me feel so comfortable and he made me look … almost beautiful? Almost. During the long hours we spent together - me posing, him drawing - I began to observe him. It was hard not to. Dean often fell into long periods of silence while he concentrated, almost like a trance. I started to fall in love with his expression of concentration. His sculpted dark eyebrows furrowed, forming a roof over his dark chocolate eyes. They were almost black but not quite. His eyes intrigued me. Then there were his long, thick black eyelashes, fringing his eyes like feathers. His perky brown nose crinkled slightly and his salmon pink lips pouted subconsciously. Sometimes I could see the faint pink blush on his cheeks when he caught me staring. You'd think I would be the one blushing. One day it all changed. Well, for me, at any rate.

"Uhm… Séamus?" he stuttered. "Yeah?" I replied, "What's up?" "Okay, this might be even weirder than the other stuff," he said nervously, his eyes looking worried. I placed my hand on his shoulder. "Mate, tell me," I smiled.

"Kiss me."

There was a silence. "What?" I asked, not sure if I had heard correctly. "Kiss me?" Dean asked, "for my art! I want to know what it's like to kiss a guy…" "Oh right, ehm…" I frowned. "Never mind, mate," Dean said begrudgingly, "It's fine." "Okay," I said quickly. "Sorry?" Dean asked hopefully. "Okay, I'll kiss you," I answered sheepishly. "Oh you are a star, mate!" Dean was thrilled. I banished my nerves at the sight of his excited face. Anything for Dean.

The smile slid off Dean's face as he composed himself. He stepped steadily towards me. I just stared at him. He had his concentrating face on again. Slowly, Dean lifted his hand to my face. I watched it. He had nice hands. He brushed a lock of my unruly, sandy brown hair away from my eyes and swallowed. I watched his throat work as I tried to regain steady breathing. My eyes were drawn to Dean's mouth by the movement of his tongue. The flash of pink swept over his lips for a quick moment before returning into his mouth, out of sight. Dean caught my eye for a split second before he leant forward slowly. I felt his breath whisper over my face as he got closer.

Before I knew it, his lips were touching mine. They were a bit chapped but that only made it better, in a strange way. It felt natural. I jerked slightly at the touch of his hand on my waist. With a gasp, I raised my hand to his face. His pressure on my mouth got more insistent. I opened my lips slightly and Dean slipped his tongue into my mouth. Under my hand I could feel his strong jaw moving. I responded to his actions, surprised by my own desires. All too soon the kiss ended.

The kiss was perfect. Dean was perfect.

He pulled away smiling gratefully. "Thanks mate, your help means a lot," Dean said before moving to pick up his things. "See you later Shay!" Dean left the room free as a bird. My heart felt heavy. "Why do I have to love you?" I whispered to the empty room.