Dean was scowling, arms crossing over his chest. "Not to me." Not that he wanted to die. But he didn't want Seamus doing anything that could get him tossed into Azkaban on the off chance he might be able to save Dean in some future battle that might or might not happen.
Fang running up brought Dean's eyes away from Seamus' face to look at the dog. When Seamus started to talk again, Dean looked at him. . . and abruptly felt like a complete git when he saw the tears his friend was blinking away.
Bloody hell.
Dean knelt down on Fang's other side, petting the dog and shaking his head. "Seamus. . . god, you're a git. You didn't have to tell me." Not that Dean hadn't been pushing for it, but he felt like a heel, now. "That's what Mcgonagall's teaching you?" He shook his head, smiling a little. "All right. . . well you're daft, and lucky I don't kick your arse. . . but it's a bit brilliant, isn't it?" Even if Dean wondered why it was Seamus she was teaching. Not that he wasn't capable- but there was a school full of people. He wondered why Seamus was the one picked.