End-July 2000

"It's just gone four, Dennis – get another batch of the Puking Potion on for the Pastilles, we're running low, maybe a couple batches of Pepper Up – we'll need it for the Fever Fudge antidote tomorrow – and if you have time, decant the Constipation Concoction into the U-No-Poo, will you?" George cracked open the door of the Brew Room at Number 93 and popped his head around the door frame, making eye contact with the curly haired blond while rattling off his instructions rapid fire; all with the usual cacophony of a Friday evening at WWW behind him. It was a testament to their working relationship, now three holidays long, that Dennis calmly took in the pertinent bits despite the bedlam, replying with a cheery, "On it!" before swivelling to stir the bubbling Blood Replenishment potion (for the Nosebleed Nougat antidote) before it exploded.

If only Slughorn could see him now! Sure, he'd ended his OWL year with a much better grade than he'd begun it, thanks to the tutoring he'd received from the magnificently moustachioed Professor, but only Dennis knew the effort it had taken him to score that much needed E in his Potions OWL. He had a sneaking suspicion it was down to his written exam, actually, for which he'd spent many a night burning the midnight oil memorising – his practical had been barely an Acceptable at best. It struck him as particularly funny that prankster George Weasley had turned out to be a better Potions Professor than both Snape (though not a high bar, that) and Slughorn – he'd taken the time to explain the hows and whys, for one, and the two months he'd spent working for George the summer before his 6th year had been such a trial by fire that he'd maintained that E average in his (calm, sedate, no-multitasking-required) NEWT Potions class with barely a tenth of the effort he'd expected to expend. Slughorn's belly had quivered with so much excitement when Dennis brewed a perfect Draught of Living Death in his first lesson of the new term, he'd half expected it to detach from the Professor's portly frame and land in the cauldron. And now, he'd gotten so comfortable with Potions even brewing multiple finicky ones wasn't out of his reach. He'd never be a Potioneer like George, inventing Potions was beyond him; but he was competent enough to not be a complete liability in the field, and that was good enough for hi— Shite, there goes the Pepper Up! He dashed over just in time to add the mandrake root before turning back to the sickly yellow Puking Potion to give it the thirteen counter-clockwise stirs it needed. Right, reflecting could wait. Potions stains were a bitch to get out of clothing.

Three hours later, when the store swung shut behind the final stragglers, a weary but wired George came into the stockroom to find Dennis magicking on the lids on the last of the U-No-Poos. He could've kissed the boy – the Friday rush was something else. "Plans for tonight?" Dennis asked him, smiling cheerily, his grin growing cheekier as he continued. "Maybe with Angelina?"

"Shut it, you git," scoffed George. "Angie's a mate. A bloody good one, but I don't shag my mates."

"You could – just ask, I bet she'll let you." Pointed out Dennis, helpfully, receiving a roll of the eyes for his trouble.

"How's Natalie? Worked up the bollocks to tell her you want to be an Auror, yet?" smirked George, but his grin faltered at the pinched expression on Dennis's face. "Ah, mate – lets go to the Leaky. I think you might need a Firewhisky for this conversation – and Hannah does a great steak and kidney pie on Fridays!"

X-XXX-X

"Alright, mate, what's going on? Things okay with Natalie?" asked George in a gentler way than most thought him capable of, once they were settled around a tiny table in the corner of the Leaky, a serving of pie and a butterbeer each down. "I'm all ear!" The pun, though, was wholly expected of him.

"It's not about Nat. I mean, it is, but that's a whole different kettle of fish… I have a whole year to do this with her, but… for now - I don't know how to tell my parents about wanting to become an Auror without having them completely flip out at me. I've been putting off this conversation for so long the avoidance is like – gut instinct, at this point. But I'm almost out of time, aren't I? I need to have this conversation in person, so it's got to be either now or eleven months later. But I also think they need more than a month to get used to the idea – I can't exactly tell them in an owl or drop that bomb before Flooing in for the entrance test. So really, it's got to be now. And I'm bricking it, mate. I don't want them to be mad at me or guilt me about Colin. I mean – I'm doing this for Colin. Though maybe I'm not going to say it's for Colin, but it kind of is and I know this is what I need to do. But they're never going to forgive me for putting myself in the thick of it all, not when they've already lost one son."

George gave him a searching look, before spinning around in his seat, calling for Hannah and asking her for two glasses and a bottle of Ogden's best; pouring a healthy measure into one glass and a healthier measure into another. He raised his glass – rather more full than the other - in Dennis's direction before tossing it back expertly. Dennis followed, clumsily – it was his second or third ever Firewhisky and he was discovering the amber coloured liquid was aptly named. The burning in his chest was so intense he dissolved into a fit of coughs and splutters.

George waited him out, patiently, having another glass while Dennis tried to compose himself. The burning receded to a numbing warmth which was more pleasant than he'd expected.

"Why do you want to become an Auror, Dennis?" he asked, once Dennis's eyes were no longer pink and watery and he could speak without attempting to eject a lung out his mouth.

"Because… okay, I won't lie, most of me wants to become an Auror because I want to hunt down Dolohov and drop him off a cliff into Azkaban. I know it won't bring Col back, but nothing's going to do that, is it? Least I can do is make sure the bastard that took him from me pays in some way or the other. But George – its more than just that, even if it is the biggest part. They gave their lives to do the right thing, to save the Wizarding World, to protect people like me. It's keeping the memory of Col, and his sacrifice, and his bravery alive; and honestly - it's the right thing to do. I just feel… I have this super strong feeling that I'm meant to do this, that I'm meant to be the one to get Dolohov. Now I just have to convince my parents… and not get disowned by them."

"Dennis – life turns on a Knut. You could decide that hey, you want a boring Ministry job and you Apparate to work one morning but you get a little distracted and you splinch your arm off. Or, you decide to go for a fly one day and slip off your broom and break your skull. If you went in for the Magical Creatures Dept – what happens if you check out a dragon reserve and one of the beasts there turns you into dinner? Just tell your parents what you want to do, and why, mate – we all run the risk of death everyday just by existing, and Magical Creatures isn't exactly safe and sedate either. There will be fallout – Mum didn't talk to Ron properly for weeks last year because he eloped with Hermione over the summer. She cried for weeks when he joined the Auror Office as well actually… Ronniekins really is a trial for our mother, isn't he? But he got her around the same way you're going to get around yours – by showing her it was his own decision, made for the right reasons, and his life to lead as he sees fit."

His eyes shifted to the glass he was holding, as variegated as the hypnotic swirls of the cinnamon spirit he was staring at. "Life's too short. Fred and Colin are proof of how short life are. We're sitting here older than our older siblings will ever be – and who's to say how long we'll be sitting?"

There was a long pause. Dennis drank some more Firewhisky for want of something to do, and had a vague realisation they were going down quicker and easier with each subsequent try. He was on number three to George's five when the ginger looked up, forced cheer straining the corners of his mouth into a smile, and said, "Right! Let's get shitfaced. You're going to stay with me tonight at Number 93 – owl your parents so they don't worry. Hannah'll let you borrow paper. And a quill. And her owl too, probably. I think I have some Sobering Solution down at the flat for tomorrow – but that's future George's problem. Tonight, we drink!"

X-XXX-X

It was a few days later, after the raging hangover that even Potions couldn't touch was finally behind him, before Dennis could screw up the courage to talk to his parents about his future plans. His mum went quiet and pinched once she understood what Aurors did, and his dad – he hadn't seen that shuttered look in his dad's eyes since Colin's funeral. He kept his composure, just barely, maintaining eye contact even while watching the Adam's apple bob in his dad's throat; but it was his mother's blazing gaze, unsoftened by the steady stream of tears dripping down her cheeks and full of a pain so intense it skewered him where he stood, that caused him to break and look away.

"Dennis, baby, why?" his mum pleaded, her voice cracking around the last word, and the sound of it, the echo of an agony that he'd carried like an anvil in his very marrow since the 2nd of May, 1998, caused tears to spill from Dennis's eyes as he made his way, steadfast and implacable, through an explanation – albeit with a voice that shook and wavered like a weeping willow.

There was a long silence when he was finished, all three of them frozen in an exhausting tableau, and Dennis felt a momentary terror that he had miscalculated, his brain suffusing his body with adrenaline in preparation for a battle he was loath to fight. And then his father, who had been silent throughout, silent for years on all matters Colin's death, crossed over to where Dennis stood across from his weeping mother, and put his hand on his shoulder. "We're so proud of you, Den-Ben… and Col would've been too." And Dennis turned, burying his face into his father's bony shoulder, and let his own sag with relief, as his mother gave him a tentative, tremulous smile.

X-XXX-X

It was funny, Dennis thought, he'd lumped his parents and Nat in together as one – assumed that their reaction would be the same. He wasn't sure why – maybe it was because, in the wake of Colin, he'd sought relief from the stoicism he'd adopted like battle armour for his family's sake in her quiet, steady arms; much like a child sought comfort after a particularly hideous nightmare. He'd been akin to the Rock of Gibraltar when his mother sobbed and his father wept, implacably weathering their tears; and in the aftermath crumbled like tinfoil into Nat's thin shoulder, gripping her hand so hard it turned white, her mousy hair acting like a curtain, a veil for him to hide from the world behind. Bolstered by his parents' reaction, he had let himself assume, with all his innate optimism, that things would just work out with Nat – she was the closest person to him, wasn't she?

Nat was not his best friend, not really, not in the true sense of the word. He supposed he wasn't the type to have a best friend, not like Colin and Demelza had been. 'Best friend' to him implied someone who you never had to watch your words around, someone who understood you almost better than you did yourself; and that wasn't really in plentiful supply in Dennis's life – not after Colin. Even Euan didn't quite meet that criteria, and they'd been friends since the train. Nat, on the other hand, had been simultaneously more and less than his best friend – she had started out as the opposites-attract girl/friend he'd had a crush on for part of his third year, ever since they'd ended up equally hapless Potions partners, the bane of Slughorn's existence. They'd gotten together only weeks before Dumbledore had died, and when whispers and rumours of the Muggleborn Registration Commission had reached their ears and they'd heard of a resistance network – sponsored and managed in part by the DA's own Justin Finch-Fletchley, amongst others - helping hide the hunted, he'd made sure she and her family were one of the first to be hidden before breaking the news to her that he wouldn't be joining her.

They'd had a flaming row when he'd told her he was sneaking back into Hogwarts, that he wasn't leaving Colin – she'd argued the difference between bravery and foolhardiness, but in the end, sensing she wasn't going to change his mind, capitulated (though understandably with little grace). The year had been harrowing on her, the subsequent recovery, more so – and it was a disservice to her to not acknowledge how steadfast and understanding and patient and utterly loyal she had been to him, more than any girlfriend could conceivably be expected to be. He knew he owed her more than words could repay for keeping him sane and in one piece; and he knew how visceral her fear and hatred for fighting Dark Magic was – she'd had front row seats to the disaster that was Dennis Creevey in the aftermath of the Battle. He really should've realised how vehement her opinion about his being a Dark Wizard catcher would've been. In retrospect, dropping in "I want to be the one to catch Dolohov" had been a bad idea. Waiting till three quarters through the school year, even more so.

They'd been sitting together in the Common Room, long after the fire had burned down to embers and most of the House was asleep, working on Natalie's application for a further study in Charms (well, Nat wrote and Dennis read ahead for DADA); when she broached the topic.

"So, have you thought any more about what you want to do then, Den? Still Magical Creatures, or are you thinking of working full time with George?" she asked casually, her lips turning up into a smile. Dennis's answering grin froze as he steeled himself for the fallout from the can of worms she'd unknowingly opened.

"Actually, Nat," and the strangled tone of his voice caused her to look up sharply and her smile to falter. "I've been thinking. The brochures Professor Jones gave me had information on many departments… and I don't think that Magical Creatures is the right fit exactly…"

"Which one then, Den?", still curious more than concerned, "Transportation? Magical Cooperation? Games and Sports?" the last one was accompanied by a nudge and a teasing wink, a nod to Dennis's incapacity at all things sporting. "Hey, don't look so stressed – what's wrong?" she asked, when Dennis gave her a weak smile, now well and truly worried about what her boyfriend was going to say.

Perhaps she already knew, deep down, what was going to come out of his mouth.

"Well… I was rather thinking the Auror Office."

A beat.

"WHAT?!"

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," Dennis said, turning to take her hands into his, entreating her to understand where he was coming from. "I know I should have, but I was confused. At first, I thought I'd be completely pants at it, and I didn't think I'd get the grades I needed, especially in Potions, so it wasn't something I thought I needed to tell you back then. I knew you'd worry. Ginny reassured me, thought I'd be great at it, and suggested I get George to bring my Potions skills up to scratch, so I started working with him, and then that wasn't an issue. But then I wasn't completely sure – Professor Jones was telling me to make sure I was doing it for the 'right reasons', and I needed to take the time to make sure I was. But when I spoke to George about it, he told me to think of it this way – that life's too short, and I needed to make what I thought was the right decision. That it was my choice, my life. And so, I talked to my parents about it, and they weren't happy to say the least, but they finally came around and… yeah. I'm going to be an Auror. If they let me."

Natalie grew very still. "So, I'm the last to know, then? You spoke to your parents and Professor Jones, fine, but George? Ginny? Ginny Weasley knew that my boyfriend was signing his life away before I did?! Am I supposed to feel reassured that the world thinks it's okay and fine and healthy for you to spend your life chasing after Dark Wizards, running off and possibly getting yourself killed – Merlin's baggy Y-fronts, Dennis, do you even know what the fuck you're signing up to do?"

"Nat, I'm sorry! I know, I should've told you – but I need to do this. I didn't want to upset you so I didn't tell you, and I should have – it wasn't, you know, an impulsive decision. I mean, in the beginning, maybe, yes, a bit. You know – you know how it was after Colin, Nat. I've never felt as – as impotent as I did when I was chivvied away from school like a good little boy and when I made my way back my brother was dead. I don't want to – I don't want his sacrifice to be worth nothing. I can do this. Magical Creatures – it's fun, and Merlin knows it's not exactly safe either, but DADA – that gives me purpose. I'll be fine. I'll be careful. And I just really, really want to be the one to get that bastard Dolohov and put him back in Azkaban where he belongs – it's what Colin would've wanted."

"No," she said, her voice bitter, "it's not at all what your older brother, who gave his life so that you would be safe, would have wanted. It's what you want, Dennis. And what about your parents? Do you think they're happy about the fact that they might lose the only son they have left, whatever they might say about it? What about me – do I figure into your life plans at all? Three years we've been together – and I find out about this once it's a fait accompli; you've already made up your mind. You didn't trust me enough to tell me – why is that? Would you have ever told me if I hadn't asked just now – or would I have been left to find out by the interview letter coming in by owl? Dolohov has disappeared. He's nowhere to be seen, he's gone underground. Are you actually foolish enough to expect that you're going to get him, nail him, and escape unscathed?! A seventeen-year-old boy?!"

"No, you're right. It isn't what Colin would've wanted, and that was a stupid argument. But Nat – it's not about what he would've wanted or even what I want – it's about what I need. It's about Dolohov, sure, because it's – it's wrong. Because I can't handle the thought that my brother's killer is out there, free, laughing, breathing in the air and walking on the ground that my brother died to protect from people like him! Because I can, and because I should, and because I need to, need to make sure that he pays for his crimes. He isn't the only one, either, Nat – there are so many others. Other criminals, other ones who prey on the hatefulness and divisiveness that's rampant in Magical society today. Others who will hate me and you for the 'crime' of being born to parents without magic. Jones asked me, you know. She asked me if I'm only joining on to catch the one Death Eater, because that might not be the best attitude, though Godric knows there are others in the Auror Office who are there for just that one reason. But – that's what she thinks, isn't it, that it's not a good reason? I think it's a bloody good reason. And my parents, they get it. I hope you do, too."

He looked into Natalie's eyes, frozen, overflowing with tears. She looked away.

"I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, Natalie. I love you. It's not that I don't trust you, but I just – I needed to work this out for myself. I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you."

There was a long pause, but Dennis was quietly confident he'd won her over, despite her stiffened posture. He'd seen it through. The worst was behind him… and then she spoke, back still turned to him, eyes fixed on the last vestiges of the embers feebly glowing in the fireplace.

"You don't – the war was hateful. I spent a year of my life, a year when I should've been gossiping with friends in the Three Broomsticks and snogging my boyfriend by the Lake, hiding like a scared mouse in a house by the hill, not allowed to step out to the shops to buy a packet of crisps. I should have been working on essays and practicing my spell-work, not learning how to bandage wounds and administer Potions to the wounded as they traipsed through our doors, day and night, the wand I'd somehow managed to retain useless because of the bloody Trace. I watched them bleed. I watched them die. I lived with terror, each and every day, that one day one of the faces I'd see, drawn and suffering, would be one I'd recognise. Perhaps it would be yours. I finished out that year and thought to myself, that I never, ever, ever want to be in that position, ever again. I could've been a fucking Healer with all that experience I'd had – but I'd had quite enough of war, and sickness, and battle." Her voice was steady in its vehemence. "I want light and laughter in my life, Dennis. I've seen enough pain and anger."

She turned to him, and her eyes were liquid.

"I love you Dennis, but if you thought I would support you – I'm forced to believe you never really knew me at all. And perhaps I never knew you either. I will hope that you find the peace that you need – even if it's with the Auror Office. But I can't watch you do this. Not again. Not knowing the cost. That is a price I am not willing to pay. I'm sorry."

She got up then, compulsively brushing her pyjamas with her fingers, the trembling in her fingers the only visible sign of the tight reign she had over her composure. She looked at him, one terrible long moment, then brushed past him and up the stairs, shoulders shaking as soon as she was past. Motionless, blank-faced, he watched her go.

Well, shite.

X-XXX-X

A/N: The chapter title is in reference to this last section – Dennis's choices between what's right for him (becoming an Auror but losing his girlfriend) and what's easy (getting a job he doesn't care about but keeping his girlfriend). The decision to join the Aurors is not an easy one – it has repercussions, for example in his relationship with his girlfriend. I wanted to show that neither of them were necessarily wrong in what they wanted, but that not everyone in his life would be supportive of such a decision.

As for the final argument, Dennis is a kid – he may technically be an adult, but he wasn't exhibiting very mature behaviour by cutting Natalie out of his decision-making process. This was deliberate – I also used to be very much like this as an 18–20-year-old. I had him be a little selfish and childish to highlight that he's not a perfect person, he has flaws.

Next chapter will set up the Auror Office. We're still a few chapters out from establishing the main case, but it's brewing, and there will still be excitement along the way…

As always – this is not a zoo, you can feed the author! With delicious reviews :D