THC Year 8, Round 1
House: Slytherin
Class: Potions
Category: Drabble
Prompt: (object) Corned Beef Sandwiches
WC: 626
Beta: Ash Juillet, bea writes, charlotteredmond99, The Majestic Dophin, DaughterOfTheOneTrueKing, Aya Diefair
A/N and Warnings: Mentions of grieving
"Hey there," Dennis said, his voice sounding tired. "I brought you your favourite." He took out two corned beef sandwiches wrapped in parchment paper and set one against the gravestone.
"I was going to get you firewhisky, but I drank most of it," Dennis rambled. He had needed the alcohol to come up here; the older he got, the harder the yearly pilgrimage to his brother's grave was becoming. "But Romilda says she's got you covered for a while."
"So how is being dead working out for you?" Dennis asked, taking a bite of his sandwich. The resentment dripped into his voice. Here he was, a year older than he had been the last time he visited, a year that Colin would never be able to reach.
He took another bite of the sandwich. His mum had made it for them every trip before they had stepped onto the Hogwarts Express. It had been Colin's favourite part of the morning; they would wake up too late, and Dennis would run around the house trying to pack up odds and ends while Colin slapped together corned beef sandwiches.
The food tasted like sadness. Deep, heavy and exhausting, but still, Dennis chewed. He breathed in and swallowed his bite, then exhaled before starting his next thought.
"Things at home have been getting better. In little sister news, Beatrice has gotten so big, she's going to start Hogwarts next year. Dad's a bit worried, scared he's going to lose her too, but I can't stay back and homeschool her. She's still a right nightmare when it comes to sitting still," Dennis said, leaning against the cool stone slab for a moment.
He shifted, causing the propped up sandwich to fall. "Um, I got my NEWTs back, and I'll be joining the Ministry at the Department of Magical Sport and Games. They put me as a Muggle liaison, but I'm pretty sure anything they have is outdated."
The one-sided conversations always got more difficult at this point. When he was halfway done with his sandwich, he had nothing to do with his hands, and his tongue itched for the taste of firewhiskey to carry him through the rest of the conversation.
He was now two years older than his older brother. That wasn't supposed to happen. Most people had moved on from Colin. Dennis sometimes found himself not thinking about his brother so much, and he didn't know if moving on was the right way to honour Colin's legacy.
He took another bite of his sandwich, this time taking a moment to savour the white bread and canned meat. Dennis knew he just had to get through this sandwich and then, he would be done with the obligation of visiting this grave for another year.
"They are going to open a gallery and put your pictures up, by the way. The funds are going to the war orphan charity, and Harry is going to make a speech. Harry is nice, you know. Remember how I told you he proposed on that first date? Well, he wants to get married now, so maybe he'll come here with me." Dennis finished his sandwich and got up. "I'll see you again next year, and I promise to bring firewhiskey."
Dennis left, nodding to Romilda Vane who was waiting by the entrance of the cemetery, a bottle of Ogden's Finest in her hand. As he Apparated away, he could hear Romilda pour the alcohol over Colin's grave and break down into tears. Some lives were taken too soon and Colin, well looking back, his brother had been too young when he had become a war-casualty.
Talking to the dead was its own kind of torture, especially when they had been so vibrant while living.