Dean wished that his real father had been a respectable man. Maybe there was a reason that he left his mother all those years ago, especially since he was in the Order. A list of possible missions and things that needed to be done back during the first wizarding war had ran through his mind, but that was only thinking optimistically. Caradoc could have been some low life that was associated with the great people that had it in their minds to take down everything that was evil. Or maybe those particular thoughts were there because Dean had just watched way too many movies. He couldn't be all too sure, at least, not until there was time to talk to Kingsley like Hermione had suggested. Figuring that it would be best to give his friend a couple of days to recuperate from the battle before approaching her again to finish up the conversation and learn a few more things, that was the plan in his mind. He had already waited so long anyway.
"Pretty much," he responded as Seamus had sat down with the pie. There was no need to ask to dig in, especially still in the original plate and all. It would probably even only be moments before the dessert was devoured completely anyway. "Good for them though. I never thought that Ron really had it in him, especially since they were always arguing with each other." As thoughts of his real father came to mind once again, Dean wonder how much they could accomplish on their own. Hermione was always resourceful when it came to those things, capturing all that she could at any given time. If that's all she found, then it might be as easy as Seamus might think. "I don't know where to start looking through, mate."
"What do you mean end up doing? I just asked. The conversation escalated and she cried a whole lot before busting his name out," he replied, feeling horrible as he remembered the talk all together. It wasn't a good feeling making your mother cry that much. Dean hadn't wanted it to go down like that, but he really couldn't change the past.
Dean hadn't thought much of the flat as a whole of what he wanted it to consist, but no yard sounded like a good idea. Their friendship fern could flurish inside, or even on their balcony if they were lucky. "Sounds good to me, but if you keep stuffing your face, we'll be here until tomorrow," he said with a soft chuckle.