Written For:

Quidditch Fanfiction League Competition: Round 8
Keeper - Someone making preparations for their death (natural or otherwise).

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry: Writing Club
Character Appreciation - [Restriction] Main character must be a Muggle-born
Showtime - All I Ask of You - (season) Summer

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry: Sewing 101
Step One - Candle / Pain / Crimson

Warning for suicidal thoughts and suicide.

Take a Step

XX

That summer, Dennis went home to the Muggle home he had grown up in before he realized he was different from his parents.

He tried to remember happier times. He thought about Colin teaching him how to ride a bicycle without training wheels. He thought about Colin showing him how to use a camera, his obsession with pictures starting long before Hogwarts and the boy-who-lived. He thought about Colin letting Dennis share his bed at night when the younger Creevey had nightmares.

Colin never made him feel like he was an annoying, bothersome little kid. Dennis hit the jackpot when it came to big brothers.

Those memories didn't make him smile. How could they? All they reminded him was how Colin was dead. Forever gone from this world, from Dennis' life.

Dennis looked at his mother and father. They tried to be there for Dennis, but they were lost in their own grief. Colin was taken from them as well. He was gone because of a war in a world they weren't a part of, a magical place they never understood.

When they looked at Dennis, there was a distance in their eyes, like they wished he had died in Colin's place. Deep down, he knew it wasn't true. Their parents had never played favorites, but Dennis thought that he should have been the one to die in the war.

Colin died because he tried to protect a younger student. It was such a Gryffindor thing to do. He was brave and loyal. He was the last person that should have died. Dennis was a coward in comparison. Colin was the worthier one when it came to life.

It wasn't fair that Colin was dead and Dennis was alive.

One night in early July, Dennis crept down the stairs of his childhood house. A candle was lit in the living room and the light illuminated his mother's tear-streaked face as sobs wracked her small body. His father held her, pain on his own face as he did his best to comfort his wife.

Dennis watched. They were so lost in their own feelings that they never noticed Dennis standing there.

He closed his eyes, unable to watch the sight any longer as his parents fell apart at the seams.

X

Crimson blood covered Colin. His mouth was open in a silent scream as his body thrashed.

Dennis reached for him, but his hand passed right through the shaking body as if either he or Colin was a ghost. Dennis tried to call Colin's name, but he couldn't make a sound.

"No!" Dennis woke up with a scream. He looked around the room, bathed in the early morning light that streamed from the window.

No one came running to check on him. His parents were gone for the weekend, needing to get away from the memories of their oldest son.

Normally, Colin would be there, ready with a hug and soothing words. He'd say, "It's only a nightmare. It's not real. Everything will be okay."

Unfortunately, it wasn't a nightmare. It was the reality. Colin's death hadn't been bloody, but it might as well have been. And nothing would ever be okay again.

It was time for Dennis to face facts. He couldn't keep on going like this. Without Colin, there was no reason for him to keep going. No one would notice if he disappeared. Colin had been the outgoing one. Dennis was the tag-along brother. No one would miss him.

X

Dennis penned some letters. They were to his parents.

Mum,

You've always been so great. You helped me with homework when I was little, and you tried to understand the magical world so badly. I remember you buying Colin his first camera and buying me a set of magician playing cards when I decided I wanted to do magic tricks before I realized I could do real magic.

You did everything you could to support our dreams. Don't blame yourself for anything.

You're the best mother anyone could ask for.

I love you.

Dennis

The next letter was a little harder for Dennis to write. He hadn't been quite as close to his father. Some might call him a Momma's boy.

Still, he managed to pen something.

Dad,

This isn't easy for me. I love you, but we've always been so different. We never had anything in common. In fact, I always felt like I was a disappointment to you.

You were the strong, army veteran. I was weak, unable to even stand up against nightmares, needing my brother to fight my battles.

In fact, you probably think what I plan to do is cowardly, and I'm sorry that I'm going to disappoint you even in my death. I'm sorry that I was never the son you wanted. I'm sorry that I couldn't ever live up to your expectations.

Colin died a brave death, and I'm going to do the exact opposite. I know this.

Maybe if Colin had lived, things would have gotten better between us, but I guess we'll never know.

You might think this is weak, but I can't live without Colin. He was my best friend, and it just hurts too much.

I'm sorry that I'm not strong enough.

I'm sorry that I'm leaving you to clean up my mess.

Please, take care of Mum.

I love you.

Dennis

Dennis left the letters on the kitchen counter, knowing they would easily be spotted. He left the house for the last time. He pulled out his wand and called the Knight Bus, still not being old enough to get his Apparition license.

When he got dropped off at the Leaky Cauldron, he walked into the establishment. He looked around.

There were many with bottles of Firewhiskey and Butterbeer (for the younger residents of Wizarding Britain. Some were drinking in celebration—many got drunk every day since the end of the war—and others were drunk because they were mourning this lost friends and family.

He wasn't old enough to order a Firewhiskey, but when he walked up to the bar and asked for it, the bartender (not Tom) gave him one without batting an eye.

Dennis didn't question his good fortune. He paid for it, took it, and left, going back to the Muggle world instead of to Diagon Alley.

He didn't have anyone from the magical world to see before he did it. He had made friends while at Hogwarts, but he didn't want to see them. They may see something, they may figure out his plans, and he didn't want to take the chance of them talking him out of what he had already set his mind to do.

Instead, he walked, the cold bottle of alcohol in his hands. He was in the middle of London, a busy time of day. It would be so easy. All he had to do was take a step in front of a speeding car.

The police would say it was an accident, that the poor kid hadn't been paying attention. No way would the driver be blamed for it.

He opened his bottle and took a hefty swallow. He drank the Firewhiskey with big gulps, ignoring the burn in the back of his throat.

As the alcohol worked its magic, he began to feel numb. He started to understand why so many witches and wizards were getting drunk.

It made things more bearable.

Cars sped down the street. Any one of them could be used for his means. All he had to do was take a couple of giant steps off of the sidewalk, and the pain would be blissfully gone.

If he just took a couple of steps, he could finally be with Colin.

He closed his eyes.

One.

Two.

Darkness.

XX

(word count: 1,297)