We Were Brothers Once

Don't go. Stay here. Help me. Save me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me alone. Don't go!

I stood in his doorway, watching him.

I was only fifteen. He was only sixteen. We were brothers. We are brothers.

We had the same black hair. We shared our blue-grey eyes. Storm eyes, Father called them before he died. We had the same milk white skin. We had the same lean muscle that not even our cousins could rival. We are brothers.

He was prouder than I. His hair was longer and wilder. His spirit was freer. His mind was keener. His friends, more loyal. His convictions, more true. His actions, more heroic. We are enemies.

I heard him downstairs, yelling at Mother. He was always yelling at Mother. Sometimes I thought he wanted to yell at me, too. Sometimes I wished he would. Then I could be angry.

But I was not angry. I was lost.

I didn't want him to go.

I know he hates the dark. Both kinds you know, dark and Dark.

I remembered when we were little and he would crawl into my room in the dead of night, because the streetlights threw their glare into my room, but also to make sure I was safe. He's my big brother. He never trusted Mother and Father, not after Father taught him curses when he was seven. He always worried about me. It is a comfort, having an older brother's devotion.

I remembered seeing him at Hogwarts. After my Sorting, he wouldn't look at me. He couldn't believe his little brother was a dirty Slytherin. I thought I lost my brother that year. He wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't look at me. But when the holidays came, he was still my big brother and still woke me up when I had nightmares and still taught me the games he played with his Gryffindor friends.

But now he's sixteen. Now he's free. Now he's leaving me alone.

He told me last night that he was sorry he lost me. It was midnight and I could see the tears on his cheeks anyway. He told me he was leaving. I grabbed him and embraced him, silently pleading for him to stay.

I forgot that Gryffindors need words.

I watched him pack his trunk, throwing in his robes and books in the haphazard way that is uniquely his. Last night I didn't understand that he was leaving me. Now I can't do anything to stop him.

I wished I had his strength. I wished I had his convictions. But I'm a Slytherin and a Pureblood and I don't. I can't leave. I can't abandon Mother, who is half mad with grief already. I wished I could leave with my brother.

In my pocket, I had my mirror, the one my brother gave me when he left for school. He told me never to lose it, that if I were in trouble I only needed to call his name. I wonder if it still holds true. Next to the mirror, I had a necklet, one that I inherited from Father.

Quietly, I handed him the chain of gold. He didn't check it for spells before pulling it around his neck. He still trusted me. He knew I would never hurt him. He knew we are still brothers.

We embraced for the last time, tears decorating both our cheeks. He could not stay and I could not go. He closed my hand around my mirror and double-checked that his necklet was secure. He cast a Feather Weight charm on his trunk.

From my window, I watched him summon the Knight Bus. I watched him haggle with the driver before hauling his trunk onto the bus. I imagined that there were still tears on his face when he left. I looked down at my mirror and clutched it close to my chest, ignoring the Dark Mark that mars my arm.

We are brothers.

We are enemies.

We were brothers before we were enemies.

We were brothers after we were enemies.

Welcome home, Brother.