So...I watched the Deathly Hallows part Two. It made me sad...I'm not ashamed to admit I cried. This came out of it, and because I re-read the chapter in Goblet of Fire where Dennis gets sorted and it made me sad all over again that Colin dies when they're so obviously close.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything out of Harry Potter, because Jo Rowling is the genius who made the best world ever and I'm really not. I don't have that much skill.

If I could have one wish for one thing in all the world, just one, it would be to have my brother back. There's not a day I don't miss him. He wasn't just my big brother, though that's reason enough to tear the world apart for him. He was my best friend. Now he's gone.

Some siblings don't get along as they grow up- one of my friends fought with her sister daily, if not more. They still do, actually. We weren't like that, we were never like that. He always used to say that it was my eyes- all big and baby blue as he held me for the first time- just to embarrass me, but I think there was some truth in there too. He was so excited when I got my Hogwarts letter, almost more excited than when he got his. He always used to say that being away from me for a whole school year was the worst thing about school.

On my sixth birthday I got stuck in a tree. Colin was there to help me down, jittery and nervous as he was. He made a promise to me that day; that he would never leave me. I keep trying to believe he hasn't broken that promise, that he's still with me somewhere. Colin would say that if he was here, you know. "I'm always with you Dennis, even when I'm not here." He always stood by things like that.

They gave me his camera, mum and dad. They couldn't bear to look at it- in fact they couldn't bear to look at any of his things. When they found out they went into shock: Colin and I had been trying to conceal this war from them for as long as possible, and it seemed like we'd succeeded a little too much. Mum wanted me to give up magic, said that if we'd never gone to that school that he'd still be alive, but I couldn't do that. Magic was what Colin lived for, breathed for, and his enthusiasm had passed onto me- loosing magic would be like loosing Colin all over again.

Colin had his own special kind of magic, a kind of magic that came out in the pictures he took. With his camera I try to channel that magic. It's the only peace I find. Every day I take it with me, and wherever I go I take pictures. It's like I have a little piece of him with me, always. It makes the open wound in my heart a little easier to bear. There are stacks of his pictures in his room, which still hasn't been tidied. There must be hundreds, maybe even thousands.

Colin really was an artist- he was many things. He was hope in the black year that the Carrows were at Hogwarts, to everyone. I feel so lucky to have been able to call him my brother. I wish he was here so I could tell him I love him, one last time. Looking back on everything, I don't think I told him that enough. The funeral was the hardest. One week after the final battle, it was, and it was raining, fittingly enough. I remember sitting in the tiny little church in our village, the wind echoing through the stone arches. I remember the aching of my heart as I stood at his open grave side, my hair plastered to my face in the gale, my tears mingling with the rain. I remember the bottle in my hand that night, but then I don't remember much else until the next morning. Even then all I remember is the headache.

It did get easier. Not by much, but it did. I tried to remember that he would want me to live. It took me a while, but eventually I left the house again. I saw people, talked to them. Life went on, slowly. Every day I thought about him, but slowly I managed to smile at the memories. I took more photographs. I still missed him- the wound on my heart was slowly becoming a scar, but the cut was deep, and it still hurt. It would always hurt.

Today should be his birthday. No matter how many years pass, it's today it still feels like he died yesterday. He'd be twenty. I'll be eighteen this summer- he always said he wanted to take me to a good old Muggle pub and get drunk in the traditional Muggle way. A coming of age.

Mum still makes him a cake every year, Dad lights the candles like he always used to, and I blow out the candles for him. It's chocolate, his favourite. After I've blown the candles out we cut a slice for each of us, and then we take it to him, eat it with him. We talk to him.

Some people would call us crazy, but on a day like today it's the only peace we get. The headstone's white- white marble. Mum brings him flowers every week and today we replace last Saturday's Lilies with a massive bouquet of colours. Reds, yellows, pinks, purples all together in an explosion of beauty. It reminds me of Colin. I settle on the grass next to his grave, and I cry. I cry until I'm empty, until I feel hollow, until there's nothing left in me. I feel raw, like I'm an open wound.

When I go home I pick up his camera again. I take picture after picture after picture, until the film's all gone. Each click of the button brings him closer to me. But he's never close enough to come back, and it's that that hurts me the most. My name's Dennis Creevey and I lost the best brother in the world. His name was Colin. I wish that he could come home.

Nooo, Colin! Why did you have to die? *wails*

Do drop a line and tell me if you find any typos and the like- this has quite literally just been written. I just really needed to get it out, you know? I'm feeling quite sad and depressed- there's no more Potter movies for Merlin's sake! What am I supposed to look forward to in my life? D: