Dean wished he knew. He wished he had been there, helping, even though he had no reason to, couldn’t have been. It was like hearing about that year at Hogwarts all over again, looking at Seamus’s beaten face, angry at himself. Against all logic, he should have been there. He should have found a way. And this, he didn't want Dennis to be alone in this. He wanted to be able to help. But he was the outsider who could never understand.
Dennis was looking at him intently, deeply. In his guilt Dean looked away.
I’m tired said Dennis, so Dean got up, almost relieved to leave him alone, to get out of this painful situation, not to be forced to confront it with the boy he’d let down looking at him like that. Still instinctively he began to help him with the cushions. Dennis told him not to, so after a hesitant moment of watching him, making sure he had everything under control, Dean walked towards his room.
He paused and looked back as he stood in the doorway, but Dennis just spread out his blanket with a tight focus. So Dean closed his door, kicked off his shoes, and fell into bed still dressed. The quicker he fell asleep, the quicker he would find out how things were the next morning.
