Everyone's leaving the house. Night has come, the war is over and it's no longer needed. Even the paintings hang vacant, gathering cobwebs, their tenants preferring to haunt and screech somewhere they will annoy. With so many of the Order dead or retired, it made no sense to anyone to continue to come to their secret gathering place. But the house didn't want them to leave. It didn't want to be left alone and forgotten forever. It had been important once to those who had needed it most. And now it was just supposed to be forgotten?
Rain dripped off eaves no one from the Muggle world even knew were there. If it had eyes it would be crying. Crying for the loss of those who had once inhabited its halls. Crying for the deaths of those it might have loved. Crying for the ache it felt in its wooden slats and cornices as bugs began to move in and make it their abode. These were not the tenants it longed for.
But wait! It heard a thought and felt that tug that called it into existence. Then—oh the delicious chill!—it felt a hand at the doorknob. Who could this be? The door squeaked open and the air seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
"Come on Hermione, we shouldn't be here. It's not right." It was a boy! No, not quite a boy any more. He was a man now, though his voice still sought higher registers.
"Ron, will you stop fussing! No one's been here in ages." And a girl … no, that wasn't right either. She was a woman now. It remembered them both.
"What are we doing here again?" It didn't care, just as long as someone was here. Hermione entered the house with Ron reluctantly following behind. They were carrying buckets full of stuff.
"Will you just trust me Ron. It's important." It wanted to say something in return, to welcome them in some way, but it had no voice. So it listened to them instead. "Just look at this place, it's a wreck." It wanted to blush. It was true. It hadn't had a reason to be presentable until now. "I'll start upstairs and you start over there in the parlor."
"This will take forever!"
"Best we start as soon as we can then Ron." It watched in amazement as they started sweeping and dusting, wiping away the grime and grit it had collected without any effort. They worked all day, sometimes together, sometimes alone. And it loved the feel of being taken care of again. But it didn't last.
"Hermione, it's dark outside and I'm starving!" Ron called up the stairs.
"All right, all right!" Hermione called down. She appeared wearing a kerchief around her hair with dirt smudged on her nose. Ron started laughing.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Ron's hair was mussed into different angles and his clothes looked as if they'd been used for cleaning rags.
"Look in the mirror!" He turned around and eyeballed his reflection in the entryway mirror with disdain. Hermione's laughter trilled down the stairs and the house wanted to cry again at it's joyous echoes. "Let's pack up and go." She already had her stuff gathered and organized. Ron dashed off to get his stuff as Hermione descended the stairs, her hand lightly brushing the banister. It wanted to remember that feeling for as long as it could.
Ron was back by the time she'd reached the bottom, his stuff thrown together haphazardly. "Let's go! This place gives me the creeps. Still don't know why it was so important to do this."
"Ron! Hush! You don't want it to hear you."
"What? The house? As if it could!" he guffawed and led the way out the front door.
"Don't worry," Hermione said aloud to no one in particular, "We'll be back. I promise." A wind swept through the house like a sigh, ruffling her hair. She smiled and pulled the door closed gently behind her. The house creaked and groaned in pleasure, as if it was singing. It would not be forgotten.
Disclaimer: the characters Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley are not mine. If they were I'd be a millionaire. They are the property of JK Rowling, the patron saint of writers.
Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they are the sole property of JK Rowling.
Authors Note: this was supposed to be a drabble inspired from the first line (I think). Needless to say, I got carried away as it's well over 100 words.