A/N: If you read my fic Remembrance, then this is the sequel (sorta): the next oneshot in what I hope becomes a series of oneshots called In the Aftermath, which will be concentrating on different characters right after the Battle of Hogwarts.
If you didn't read Remembrance, you don't have to to read this — it can be a stand alone. That being said, after you're done here, please go check that out! But right now, here's a short Dennis-centric oneshot for you.
Disclaimer:
I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER.
Enjoy!
Blame
Five hours.
Dennis's brother had been dead for five hours, and he hadn't even known.
Colin had died an hour and a half before the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, as they were calling it now. Three hours later, the survivors had remembered to alert the underage and/or Slytherin students, so they could return to Hogwarts, or what was left of it anyway.
By the time Dennis returned, Colin had been dead for four hours and forty-five minutes. And even when Dennis had returned, he had forgotten to look for hs older brother for fifteen whole minutes, caught up in the celebrations following the demise of the Dark Lord. And when he finally made his way to the front of the long line of people congratulating Harry, he saw the older boy's tired half-smile vanish from his face, replaced by a mixture of deep sadness, apprehension and guilt.
Dennis hadn't understood, for a long moment. Then Harry had led him away from the line, to the stretchers. Dennis' apprehension had grown, and grown, but he still had not really believed anything really bad could have happened. He had still held onto the idea of invincibility that always comes with youth, still believed that everything will be okay.
Then he saw the body, and all of that shattered.
At first, he thought it was someone else. Because Colin had always been such huge figure in Dennis' life, his two years older big brother, who was (sorta) friends with THE Harry Potter. How could Colin be gone?
And then he took a second look, and he realised that small, frail looking, pale-skinned body laid out before him really was his brother, seeming so much smaller in death than he had in life.
(Maybe that was why Dennis didn't think, not even for a split second, that Colin might be sleeping, even though so many people do when they first see such things. See, when Colin was sleeping he still looked like Colin, but this didn't look like Colin, not even a bit.)
As Dennis stands in shock, staring at the body that looked so terrifyingly unlike his brother and yet so damningly similar, he realised with a jolt that Colin was only sixteen. Still a child, in both worlds. Too young for war. Too young for… for…
For death.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispers, jolting Dennis out of his thoughts. He looks up at the older boy, who seems to be half-heartedly seeking to comfort him, and a stray thought enters his mind.
This is who Colin died for. Colin is dead, because he fought with, and he fought for Harry Potter.
And somehow, that became Colin is dead because of Harry Potter.
And that became Harry Potter killed my brother.
Dennis doesn't know how it started, but suddenly he's screaming, screaming things like
It's your fault!
and
He died for you, so why didn't you end it before he was gone?
and
You killed him — you killed my brother! I blame you!
And people a staring, and frowning, and Harry's friends are coming towards him, but he can't stop. I can't stop I can't stop because its TRUE and everyone knows it but no one will say it it's TRUE, he's the reason Colin is gone and I'm BROKEN, the voice inside him screams as he does.
But.
Another voice. Dennis doesn't want listen to that voice. It's too calm, and he's too angry, angry at the boy who, the first voice whispers, made him broken.
But Harry looks broken now, too.
This stops him short, because the voice is right. Harry does look broken. Because of him.
And something snaps, and the kaleidoscope of tears in his eyes pours down his face. All the anger is being sapped out of him, replaced by a hollow sadness.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispers again, but there is something more to it this time — there's understanding written on his face, and Dennis realises that Harry does understand, of course he does. Harry's lost so much, too.
"No," Dennis says. "I am. And I don't. Blame you, I mean."
"Thanks, but… Maybe you should."
"What?"
"So many people are dead, because they fought for me, and they didn't turn me over to Voldemort. Maybe I am to blame."
Harry gives Dennis a brief, sad smile, then turns away. Because he's blaming himself, Dennis realises, even though Dennis isn't, not really.
It's going to take a long time for anyone to heal from this, the fourteen-year -old realises. He himself hadn't even started to.
But maybe he could help someone else, he thinks as he watches Harry move away. Maybe he can help Harry realise he isn't to blame, and then Harry can start healing.
And once that has happened, maybe — just maybe — Dennis can start healing, too.
A/N: Hope you liked it! The next oneshotwill be Pavarti-centric on Lavender's death, but if there's anything you want to read in this series, review and I'll put it on the list. I f you don't have any requests, review anyway!
Bye!
—flames and roses