This one-shot was written for: Fire the Canon's The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition - Round 4 - Holyhead Harpies - Chaser 2
Emotion: Sadness
Bonus prompts: "Lesson learnt?"; weekday; too short;
Words: 1102
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series, all rights go to J.K. Rowling.
Paralyzing sadness
Your hands are shaking, you are shivering and you don't even remember your own name.
Only one person is on your mind which is filled with bits of memories, mostly moving pictures. You aren't even sure whose memories they are, your own or his. You sigh and you close your eyes as you take a step even closer.
You reach for the handle of the door and before you can reconsider the situation you open it. You don't open your eyes for a moment, you aren't sure you are ready to see the room, not just yet.
You don't know how much time passes as you stand in the doorframe with your eyes closed. Eventually you find your Gryffindor courage (which you think is nonexistent) and open your eyes. The room hasn't changed anything; it seems that he is still around. The walls are threadbare white, but you don't even see it beneath the layers of photos which cover all the walls.
As you find your strength your vision focuses on the pictures on the wall and you feel like crying. Being in the room is even worse than you expected. Without thinking you approach a picture right next to his bed. A small sad smile appears on your face which quickly turns into a frown as you try not to cry (but you of course, eventually fail).
It's about the two of you; your father has taken it with Colin's camera. His hands around your neck and both of you are grinning like complete idiots while you are shaking a letter in your other hand. You remember it like it happened yesterday (although it was years ago), you just got your letter from Hogwarts and both you and your brother were unbelievably happy. Nothing seemed to matter after it, both of you were wizards ready to be part of a world of mysteries and miracles and what was the most important, you could be part of it together.
You can't watch the happy face of Colin anymore as he is shouting soundlessly to your father who couldn't use the camera. You look away only to notice an even more heartbreaking picture.
You can't breathe, your eyes are puffy and you are sobbing, while your heart is beating too quickly for your own good, but you don't care. You close the distance between the wall and yourself in less than a moment and you put your hands on the picture. It was taken on the night of your very first day at Hogwarts. You remember perfectly how happy Colin was that you were there with him and you were sorted in Gryffindor too.
You have just made fool of yourself and Colin was laughing at you when one of his friends took his camera and made the photo.
"Lesson learnt?" he asked teasingly, but you didn't care, you laughed with him even if you were embarrassed. It was just one simply moment, but it was so carefree and so happy it seems sickening for you now. You look away; you can't look at it for longer, although the face of your laughing and happy brother has already burned in your mind. You feel sick and for a moment the whole room, the world seems to move and you sure you will lose your consciousness, but you can sit down on his chair in time.
You aren't sure why you even approached his room anymore. You have a feeling you wanted to do something important, but the sadness, the grief makes thinking impossible. You see millions of pictures about your brother even if you close your eyes and you aren't even sure what is reality and what you are only imagining.
Seconds. Minutes. Hours.
You don't know how much time has passed since you have entered the room; the time means nothing to you anymore. You try to remember if it is a weekday or a weekend, if it is June or July, but your mind is blank.
You feel blank and empty.
You open your eyes once again and focus on the old wooden floor. You see the cracks in it and an ant, you try to fix your attention on the bug, but not even a second later your eyes are on the wall again, it held your attention for too short. You want to tear those pictures down; you don't want to see the pure happiness on the faces of the characters of the photos. You want to get up and smash each of them starting with those sickening ones, but you don't have the strength to even get up.
You are sitting on the old chair and fix your eyes on your own feet. You run your hands through your sandy hair in frustration and in desperation, only to notice that you are dripping wet. It's not a surprise for you as traitor tears follow traitor tears, they run down on your cheeks only to end up on your red pullover.
Your mind is blank like you have been hit by Obliviate.
Your body is still like someone casted Petrificus Totalus on you.
You want to throw up, you feel sick, lifeless and useless. You want to give up, it's just too much. You try to stand up, and you are actually able this time, even if your legs are shaking and you don't see anything from the tears in your eyes.
You want to go to the door straight and leave the room as soon as possible, but your subconscious has other ideas. You stop in front of the door and your legs can't keep your weight anymore, you fall on the floor. You are sobbing, you are crying, you are just sitting there for hours. After a while you are even too tired to cry, you feel ill, your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, your face is red.
You aren't strong enough to even move your hand let alone get up and leave the room so you remain on the cold floor. You are shivering, you are shaking and the hundreds of the photos on the wall are laughing at you.
They are laughing, they are smirking and they are chuckling.
You want it to end, you want to forget everything and you want to give up.
However, your sadness is paralyzing and you can't move, you can't breathe, let alone clearly think. You don't even remember why you are there; you don't even remember who you are anymore.
People call you Dennis Creevey, the problem is you have no idea who that is anymore.