For Camp Potter, Team Scavenger Hunts, Week 5: Write about coming of age. Cabins Lupin and Lestrange.

Joint fic between Sam (MissingMommy) and Laura (Someone aka Me)

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Dennis sits there, a photograph crumpled in his hands. He tries for the thousandth time to smooth out the creases. He wants this one to last.

It is the last photograph of his brother ever taken.

Colin sits alone, his back to the photographer — his back to Dennis. The fire in front of him flickers, moving in black and white. Even though the photo was developed the Wizarding way, Colin is still.

He looks so small. He looks so afraid.

He looks so alone.

That is the part that hurts Dennis the most. That in his last year of life, though they were together, Colin felt alone.

Not that he showed it, of course. Not that he let Dennis see. Colin kept up his happy-go-lucky attitude and the façade of a smile, even as he must have been crumbling inside.

Dennis hates that he never noticed.

But Colin always made sure he didn't know, that he couldn't see it. Colin was brave and strong, so that Dennis didn't have to be. Now, he does. He has to be brave and strong. Because Colin isn't here to protect him.

Dennis swallows hard. He doesn't want to cry. There have been enough tears already. He smooths the crinkled photograph for the thousand and oneth time before placing the face of it on the glass and sealing the back of the frame. He props the frame up on the table beside his bed.

"I miss you, Colin," he says. The soft words carry in the silent room. "You taught me so much. But now it's my turn. My turn to be the strong one."

He glances in the mirror, adjusting the knot of the tie around his neck. Straightens his lapels.

He nods at his reflection once, then leaves the bedroom. Down the stairs, into the living room, where his mother stands, also staring at photographs — the ones on the mantle.

"Ready, mum?"

"I don't think a mother is ever ready to attend her son's funeral, Dennis."

He nods his head, and wraps his arms around her. Some days, he wants to rage at the world for the unfairness of it all — no mother should bury her son, and no mother should ever have to bury her son because he died for a world she could never be a part of.

But fairness has never dictated reality.

She finally looks up at him. He can see the unshed tears shining in her familiar brown eyes — just the same as Colin's were.

She twists in his arms, smooths down the front of his jacket. "You're so grown up, baby." And then there's a pause. "Just wish you didn't have to be."

"I know, Mum." He pulls in a deep breath. "Me too."

For a moment, the pair of them just stand there, bracing themselves, letting at least some small bit of the tension drain away. Then his father enters the room.

And Dennis pulls away from his mother. He nods at his father, and his father nods back — a silent conversation.

"Time to go, Martha." His voice is pitched purposely soft.

His mother nods.

She wipes at her dry eyes, takes in a deep breath.

Dennis watches as they exit the house. He takes in a deep breath of his own and moves toward the door. Once he walks out of this house, there will be no going back.

He does not allow himself to hesitate at the threshold.

Today, he will make Colin proud. He will be the man Colin wanted him to be.

He is not a child any more.