Disclaimer: It's not mine, but I though J.K did very well with it.

A/N: It was interesting. Never having written a Harry Potter fanfic before, despite being in the fandom for six years now, I got to the end of Deathly Hallows and all I could think was that someone was going to have to tell Dennis. I didn't suppose many people would write about it, so I figured I'd have to. So here you are.

There was still no sign of Colin.

It had been three hours and forty-two minutes since the castle had been evacuated; students shoving at their friends and enemies alike to escape the war zone, clamouring to get to the Room of Requirement passageway before anyone else. It had taken the red-faced shouting of Professor Sinistra to make the frightened children line up two at a time, entering the tunnel at regular intervals.

After almost a year away from Hogwarts because of the stupid Muggle-born ban, arriving back into the churning halls had been culture shock for Dennis Creevey. He and Colin had barely arrived, alerted to the conflict by their DA coins, before they had been shepherded into the Great Hall. The briefing had passed in a daze of staring at the faces of students and teachers that he had so long been absented from. There was no time for reconciliation. He hadn't even realized his brother wasn't beside him anymore until the throng of students was too tight to get through.

He had been paired up with Owen Cauldwell, a Hufflepuff in his year that he had never had too much to do with, for the trip through the tunnel. The two of them had stumbled through the passage in twin hazes of disbelief, neither managing to find the appropriate words for the situation. All that would have come out would have been questions, anyways – and neither of them had any answers. Dennis checked his Muggle watch again.

Three hours and forty-four minutes.

There had been similar pandemonium when they had reached the Hog's Head; the place was full to bursting with frightened children. The panicked scene could not have differed more from Dennis' first time in the pub, when he had illegally snuck into Hogsmead in order to attend the D.A. meeting. A fat lot of good all that had done him, he thought absently, running from the enemy and hiding in a washed out pub with a goat-loving owner.

Aberforth had the situation in his pub under as much control as he could, taking groups of children swathed in protective charms down the road to Zonko's, the Three Broomsticks, and Madam Puddyfoot's as more and more arrived.

Dennis had rudely rejected Aberforth's demands that he join one of the groups, wrenching out of the old man's grip on his shoulder and shouting about needing to be there when his brother arrived. He continued to make a scene until Natalie McDonald, a Gryffindor in his year, had shepherded him into a corner. She sat there with him now, both of them sitting with their backs pressed to the wall and their knees drawn up, barely looking at each other. She had not yet acknowledged his year-long absence; it was almost as though he had never left. Almost.

He checked his watch again.

Three hours and forty-seven minutes.

Both of them tensed as the portrait of the pretty young girl swung open, only to partially relax when Glorian Sparks, a seventh-year Ravenclaw, tumbled out with a missing eye and rather a lot of blood on him. Older students rushed to help; the two of them remained stationary.

There was no conceivable reason for Colin to be taking so long; he was under-aged, and should have gone through the escape tunnel like the rest of the younger students. Dennis strongly repressed the slightly ill feeling that kept trying to well up in him, a combination of fear and dread and common sense that had no place in his head. No. Not now.

"Hey," whispered Natalie, the word coming out rather wobblier and more choked than she had probably intended. She coughed, and then continued. "I'm sure he's fine, you know. He probably just got here first. I'll bet right now he's over in Zonko's, out of him mind with worry for you." She turned to him and tried for a reassuring smile.

She put her hand over his and squeezed. Natalie MacDonald was soft and pretty and in another situation Dennis probably would have been stuttering like an idiot and flushing up a storm. He looked her in the eye and squeezed back.

"Thanks," he got out just as the portrait swung open. The whole room fell silent as Oliver Wood burst out, waiting tensely for an update on the battle. He opened his mouth for an announcement, his eyes falling on Dennis with something like pity as he began to speak.

As though through a thick fog, Dennis brought his watch arm up into his line of sight.

Four hours and two minutes.