I swore I'd never write Harry Potter fanfiction. I'm breaking that promise once.
Dennis was not, by the world's standards, a particularly remarkable boy. His grades were completely average, and he stood a head below the other boys in his year. He was also a creature of unbreakable habit: he never wore matching socks, he slept with his feet propped on his pillow, and every night before bed he spoke with his older brother by the fire.
"I think I'm getting taller than you." Dennis popped a jelly bean into his mouth. He was in the middle of perfecting an elaborate doodle in the margin of his Potions essay, and his eyes were glued to the parchment; he entirely missed the flash of grief in his brother's eyes.
Colin's eyes were strange; Dennis did not like looking at them. They were both infinitely deep and paper-shallow. If you didn't get lost in the hazy darkness, you could see all the way back to the embers of the common room fire. It was like looking into the depths of a great fog, and it gave Dennis chills. He preferred to look at the mop of shaggy hair and the pinstriped pajamas, identical to his own. They were familiar, comfortable, and they made him forget.
"Dennis," Colin said softly, leaning down over his brother's homework, "school is over soon. Everyone's going to be going home in three weeks."
"Yep." Dennis still did not look up. "Dad'll be so excited to see us, huh?"
Colin shook his head slowly, but didn't say anything. Dennis would realize it sooner or later, and then he would be inconsolable; for a seventeen-year-old boy, he was as sensitive as a child. Colin let it pass for now.
"It's been raining a lot. Do you think the pond back home has overflowed?" Dennis slid another jelly bean into his mouth. But his voice was listless, devoid of passion, and Colin understood: Dennis already knew. Dennis had known for months, maybe even years.
Colin wiped his dry, hazy eyes. "Probably," he answered, keeping up the game. "We'll have to wait and see."
Dennis forced a smile. "Just three more weeks," he whispered.
And neither of them spoke for the rest of the night. They sat watching the fire until the early hours of the morning, Colin's hand resting on top of his little brother's. And for the first time, Dennis realized that he could feel nothing but the humid summer air.
