Hello Beautiful World! So this little baby you have here is a little story for the Words And Titles Competition. Go check it out! it is pretty cool, all you have to do is go to the Harry Potter Forums and click on the Harry Potter Challenges thingy and then search the competition's name! I highly recommend people without inspiration for their current stories to sign up!

So, my word was Capture and I immediately thought of the Creevey Brothers, especially about Collin, but also the little Dennis. And i couldn't help but put a bit of my favourite pairing there :winks:

English is not a language that i use often, so if something sounds funny please tell me.

Disclaimer: None of the Books or the Characters portrayed in this story belong to me.

Capturing emotions

Dennis Creevey shared Colin's love for photography; he just didn't go with a camera hanging from his neck like his brother had, even if he did share his enthusiasm. It was seldom that he had dared to take pictures, because he always had felt that his pictures were somehow inferior, sub-par. Oh, they were fine, and people always told him that they were perfectly good pictures, but to him they had always lacked something, something more lively. He had always believed that his pictures couldn't compete with Colin's; how could they? His pictures were so blank and so lifeless, whereas his were so life-like, so precise; it almost seemed that whatever he had captured with his lenses would jump out of the square and join the living, that was how Dennis saw his brother's pictures. He had never seen pictures quite like Colin's, not even those from professional photographers, and he believed that somehow Colin's magic had made his pictures especial. As especial as Colin himself had been.

He swallowed harshly, even five years after the war, he couldn't get used to his brother's death. How could he? They had shared everything, from the mousy brown hair to their love for photography, to the hero worshipping of Harry Potter. More than a brother, he felt as if he had lost a part of himself, a vital, very precious part of himself that had left him bereft and helpless upon its passing. Colin's death had left him empty, and even magic had proven incapable of filling that void. The only thing that managed to snatch his attention were his pictures, those lifeless pictures that he hated, even if they were bad, they made him feel closer to Colin than any other thing. Sometimes, when he was about to push the button of the camera he almost felt as if Colin was standing just behind him, just as he used to, looking at the picture he was about to take. It was just an Instant, a mere shadow of an instant but he felt all the better afterwards and that was all that mattered.

Still, none of his pictures had that lively quality to it. As many as he had taken after Colin's death, none had been nowhere near close to the magic he felt when he looked at his older brother's pictures. He remembered the one time that he gotten enough courage to ask Colin about it, it had been the first and only fight he could remember between the two. Of course, they had always had the squabbles that every pair of normal brothers had, but this one had been very different and it was the first time he could honestly recall being really angry with him. He had felt as if his brother had excluded him, after all. And he had never done that before, not before Hogwarts, at least and Colin couldn't help being magical as much as he could avoid not being it.

"How do you do it? "It had been a bit before he had gotten his letter to Hogwarts. His brother, who had been busy scribbling down something on a spare bit of parchment, lifted his head and turned to look at him.

He'd gestured towards the wall covered with pictures in his brother's room. "Your pictures. They always look so... So... Especial, as if they were truly alive. "He'd explained a far-away look in his eyes. "It's almost like... Magic. Do you do it? Do you magic them? "There was certain accusation in his voice, and also, certain jealousy.

"No, I don't. If I did, they would move. "Colin explained good-naturedly to his younger brother, moving to retrieve something from his trunk, when he got them he noticed that it was a couple of pictures. "Like these. "He pointed to the photos he was holding. "I took them with a magical camera. Do you like them? I'm not sure I do, to be honest. They move and they are kind of cool but they take all the emotion off of taking photographs. "He'd explained showing a couple of moving pictures; he barely saw them containing his awe at the moving things. He had, after all, something to solve.

"But you do something to them! "He insisted, growling. "None of mine look quite as good as yours!"

"That's because you are way too impatient, "he said, smiling down at the smaller boy. "It is all about timing. You have about a second to press that button and if you do it any later, the picture will be nice but it will not be amazing. I've told you that hundreds of times. You need to see the eyes too; even the simplest picture can look amazing if you catch emotion with the lenses. "The older of the two said with a bit of irritation but still, the smile lingered on his face.

"You know that's not true! I wait enough to get the picture and it's never amazing! You cheat, you do something and you don't want to tell me because you don't want me to be as good as you! "He ran from his brother's attempts at consoling, resorting to locking himself in his room.

It had taken him two days to apologise to his brother after that, but he had never truly believed his brother's words about not doing something to his pictures, and he had almost given up altogether on taking pictures, even if his parents insisted that his photos were very good. Perhaps it was something that he did unconsciously, but Dennis was sure that Colin had done something for his pictures to be so amazing, regardless of them being magical or not.

After Colin's death, he had started to take seriously the idea of becoming a professional magical photographer, and for that, he had fought his parents tooth and nail to continue is education at Hogwarts. They hadn't been happy with is decision, having wanted to send him to another magical institution, but he hadn't been about to allow that to happen. He wanted to finish his education in Hogwarts, and no worried parents would stop him.

As for the photographer career; it was something that he could simply portray himself doing and regardless of his reservations, his pictures were well liked by everyone he ever presented them to. That was what had led him to this moment, after all. Headmistress McGonagall had hired him as a photographer for the Victory Ball hosted at Hogwarts by the staff faculty in order to gain more funds for the poor children that couldn't afford their school things since the account had been used far more often than usual since the end of war.

He had been honoured to be asked, after all, he was a boy in his seventh year and not a renowned name and he was being asked by the Headmistress herself and of course he had accepted. And now he was in the middle of perusing the photos he had taken, deciding which ones will be send to their print and posterior publication in both the school diary and the Daily Prophet.

He had taken nearly two hundred pictures during the entire Ball, and he was sorting through them.

There was one of McGonagall shaking hands with the Minister of Magic that looked quite nice, and another of Golden Trio together again. The trio had gotten separate after the war, Harry and Ron for the Auror Programming and Hermione coming back to Hogwarts as the Muggle Studies professor.

There were several more, and for a moment he contemplated sending the small group he had already said he would and cut his work short, but he shook his head, taking another sip of coffee to keep his mind alert and giving a look to the clock. He had about two hours to see all pictures and select them before sending them via owl to the Prophet. But he just couldn't stand the thought of leaving a good picture out of the lot, so he decided to go through the rest of the pile as quickly as he could. Any that he didn't like enough for publishing maybe could be sold to the ones portrayed in them.

He had gone through a quarter of the pile before he found it; in the picture there were just two people portrayed, Severus Snape who had miraculously survived Nagini's bite thanks to Fawkes timely intervention and whose work as a spy had granted him recognition as a war hero and Hermione Granger.

What really got his attention was how... Rather what... Or rather... he wasn't sure, honestly. But there was just something about this picture that made him stop. It was nothing especial, and he was sure that he would have overlooked if he hadn't felt something quite extraordinary while looking at it; they were both quite close, he leaning against the wall while she was speaking, he seemed to be hearing intently to whatever she was speaking about, his face for once showing a quite neutral expression instead of his usual dark scowl, she smiled as she touched his elbow. Then the scene ended and it repeated itself, as magic pictures were supposed to. It was quite common, even usual, but there was something... There was something quite remarkable about it that he just couldn't put his finger on.

He looked closer and it hit him; it was the eyes! They looked alive and warm, Snape's eyes, usually so cold shone with warmth and they held a spark that Dennis couldn't quite name and Hermione's... Hermione's eyes were so lively; like molten chocolate and it seemed as if she only had eyes for the man in front of her. It looked like a private moment, an intimate scene even though they weren't even touching most of the time and Dennis immediately fell in love with it after he overcame his initial surprise. It was so... Amazing. For a moment he felt as if he were looking at one of his deceased brother's pictures, instead of his own.

His eyes stung with unshed tears and he reverently put the picture back to the 'unsent' pile. No, the picture was way too especial to just send to a cold newspaper that would surely use it for mockery. No, no. He had a better idea for it.

He grabbed the picture, putting a sticking charm on the back before proudly hanging it on the wall he had deserted for his best pictures, the ones he deemed really especial.

It was the first picture he hung there…

I hope you liked it and if you did, or didn't please review but be constructive about it, flames will be used to roast marsmallows!

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