Word count: 553
Dennis hates being home. The last time he was here, it was summer. The last time he was here, Colin was still alive.
That thought alone is enough to make his chest constrict painfully. Tears sting his eyes, and it is suddenly hard to breathe as he stands in the dining room, staring at his dad with his mouth open. There are so many things he wants to say, but the words refuse to come.
And so he just nods awkwardly, an acknowledgement that he is home and they are both going through this ridiculous hell together. "I'll be in my room," he murmurs, because he doesn't know what else to say.
"Dennis…"
But Dennis doesn't stick around. He doesn't know if he has it in him to hear anything his dad has to say.
Maybe it's unfair and just a bit cruel. Dennis isn't the only one suffering, and at least he has answers. His poor father doesn't understand why they had to leave in the first place, let alone why only one son returned home alive. Kingsley spoke to his dad, but Dennis doubts any of it really stuck or made any sense at all.
He lingers outside Colin's room. Inside his bag, he can suddenly feel the weight of his brother's broken camera, returned to Dennis by Neville Longbottom. Keeping it feels wrong. Maybe he should put it in Colin's room, by his bed where he always kept it.
Dennis lifts a hand to the door, and he's trembling. A sob rips through his chest, and he drops to his knees, tears spilling from his eyes. He isn't ready to go in there. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He feels a soft bump against his arm. Ingrid, Colin's cat, nudges him, her fluffy tail twitching impatiently. She bumps her head gently against Colin's door.
"Sorry," Dennis mumbles, scratching Ingrid's orange and grey chin. "You can't… Colin isn't…"
A small laugh escapes his lips. He's getting choked up and tongue-tied trying to talk to a bloody cat. She won't understand anything he says, so there's really no use in explaining things to her at all.
Instead, Dennis scoops her up in his arms and holds her close. She lets out an annoyed yowl, but she relaxes against him quickly enough.
"I'm sorry," he tells her. "Colin is gone."
He should have tried harder or done more. Colin had no business fighting; he wasn't even old enough to stay behind. It's something Dennis has been working through in the days since the final battle. He knows, deep down, nothing he did or said could have stopped Colin. His brother would have seen it as his duty, whether Harry Potter was involved or not.
"Don't worry," he says, scratching Ingrid's ears. "I'll look after you. I promise."
It isn't fair, and he doesn't think the pain will ever go away, no matter how much he tries. Still, despite it all, he knows he has to keep going. It's what Colin would have wanted. So, somehow, despite the grief that's ripping his heart to shreds, Dennis makes himself a promise.
He will carry on. He will live a happy life and take care of Ingrid and take lots of pictures. As much as he hurts, he knows he has to do it for Colin.
