Story: Drabble

House: Hufflepuff

Class: Potions

Prompt: Gate

Word Count: 996

Welcome back to the second round of the THC! I've been struggling a bit with the lack of theme (as I was used to on the QLFC) but I managed to pull through and I actually had a great amount of fun with the two stories of this round! I decided to go back to my roots and focus on my favourite Gryffindor (and my favourite Slytherin in the standard) - I didn't want them to say I was ignoring them! On to the story, hope you enjoy!

All the beta love to Story Please and a huge hug to my Hufflepuff teammates!

The small iron gate of the quaint suburban house was Hermione's new Boggart come to life. She wrung her hands together nervously as the black-painted rails stared judgmentally down at her. Of course, Hermione logically knew that an inanimate Muggle object could not judge, but the weight of her guilt was enough to transfer the feeling.

Survivor's guilt had kept her awake as much as the nightmares did. Who was she to make it out alive when so many others didn't? What gave her the right to complain about her fate? And when it wasn't survivor's guilt, it was the feeling that nothing they had achieved truly mattered. Their world had supposedly changed for the better, only to turn around and aim prejudice on the kids that happened to be on the wrong side.

A jingling of keys brought her back to the present. She had faced many evils ⎼ even Voldemort himself ⎼ but she had met her mortal enemy in this gate. What would normally pass as a simple iron construction held all the evil in Hermione's world. This door symbolised all her sacrifices, all that she had given up for what she now feared was nothing.

Her eyes darted to the mailbox mounted on the side of the fence. Mr. & Mrs. Wilkins. That surname had caused her more grief than any Death Eater ever good. As if on cue, the middle-aged couple walked out the door, an excited Golden Retriever running around between their legs. Hermione had to reach out and grasp the gate desperately as her knees nearly gave out at the sight.

It had been a whole year since she'd seen her parents but, with being on the run and the war, it felt like so much longer. She knew deep down that she'd done the right thing by sending them away; she'd seen her house ransacked and vandalised. Erasing their memories had saved them but it still hurt not to be able to hug her mum or watch telly with her dad when she was scared of the dark.

"Are you okay, dear?"

The soft voice nearly brought tears to her eyes as Hermione tried to straighten up. Monica Wilkins was staring at her from behind the gate, her brows furrowed in concern, just as she had when Hermione was little. A soft smile tugged at her lips despite her melancholy. She let go of the door and took a step back as the older woman came out of the garden to stand in front of her on the sidewalk. Wendell followed suit a moment later, the puppy now firmly secured by a pastel blue harness.

"Y-yes, yes, fine. Uh, sorry, just got a bit lightheaded," Hermione tried to play it off as a casual coincidence, her nerves getting the best of her. When she'd Portkey'd to Australia two days prior to bring her parents back, she hadn't expected the process to be so difficult. It had taken her days to find the courage to go see them and this already felt like more than she could handle.

The worst of it was how alone she felt. Harry had never known his parents and Ron's were alive and well so, while both knew a little of how she felt, neither could properly empathise with what she was going through. They'd both offered to go with her but she didn't want to burden Harry any more than she had to and she didn't want to bring Ron down with her melodrama.

"You poor dear. You look really pale. Do you want to come in, sit down?" Monica offered, but Hermione shook her head violently. She hadn't counted on facing them so early, let alone spend time with them. She wasn't prepared, physically or mentally. She needed to practice her spellwork and study alternatives in case her first plan didn't work and set a safety backup in case something backfired and prepare all the proper paperwork and —

"You okay there, miss?"

The hand on her shoulder grounded her back to reality. Her dad always did that when she spiralled as a kid. He was never too comfortable with physical contact and preferred a clever quip and a witty remark than a heart-to-heart, but he always knew what she needed to calm down. As she came back to herself, Hermione focused her gaze on the gate to avoid looking at the two familiar strangers.

Where she'd found it the source of all her anxiety before, now the black iron gave her a strange comfort just by giving her something to focus on. "Fine, fine. I apologise; this is my first time in Australia and I underestimated the sun."

"Oh dearie, I know what you mean. We moved from the UK a bit more than a year ago and it took us so long to get used to it!" Her mum laughed as Hermione turned her eyes from the gate to the puppy excitedly sniffing her shoes. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, yes, thank you," Hermione rushed, taking a hurried step back. She risked a look up at her parents, then quickly averted her eyes to the gate again. She needed to leave, she couldn't stay a minute longer. "I will be off now, sights to see. You know how it is. Have a great walk!"

She waved and started walking away before they could say anything more. As the dog started barking and their conversation faded, she paused. Waiting enough to make sure they were leaving, Hermione risked one last look behind her. The couple held hands as they walked, stopping every few steps to untangle the dog's leash from their legs. As they turned the corner, her eyes drifted back to the gate she'd spent all day watching from afar. The gate she knew she'd spend all of tomorrow watching again, until she could gather the courage to try and restore their memories.

So long, new friend. See you soon.