Home

A place where I can go

To take this off my shoulders

Thrown out. She is thrown out of the only home she knew. And when she says home, she means the whole country. She is now also, penniless, quite literally. Whatever little money she has, is in the form of Euros, that have been put in an account in the name of some random woman she is supposed to be.

Here she is again, another identity, another set of lies. She doesn't want to go through the trouble of building another life again. She doesn't want to have to tear herself apart from everything she has known.

Absentmindedly, as she walks around the minimally furnished flat she has been given, she pulls on the necklace she wears, the long silver chain scraping against her skin. She frowns as she quickly realises what it is, and why she still wears it. It is habit now, but she still remembers the true reason. She takes a deep breath as she clutches the small, glistening pendant in her hand, and mutters the password. She hopes something will happen, but he doesn't think it will. Why should it, after all? She herself had wanted to cut off everything form her past.

A sharp tug takes her by surprise, disorienting her. It has been a while, a lifetime, since she has traveled this way. She's in a garden. A garden that smells and looks beautiful, even in the nighttime. It's quite large, and devoid of people, but in front of it stands a large house, a mansion, even, that is lit up and looks even more elegant. If this place is the right one, then he has done quite well for himself in life, and she is glad for it.

But a nagging doubt seeps into her mind. Or perhaps, many doubts, fears, and in-betweens. What if it is not his home? It could have been spelled to some random house. Worse, the spell could have worn off and been inaccurate in transporting her. What if, even if it is him, he doesn't remember her? What if his own spell to forget is so strong that Iris Longbottom has disappeared from even his own mind? What if he simply wants nothing to do with her?

All these eventualities spiral around, making her wonder what she would do. She doesn't know where she is, even what country. She has nothing on her. Her papers are in that flat she has been in moments ago, far away and out of reach now.

Foolish girl, she chides herself, even as she walks towards the mansion with some shred of hope in her heart. There is a part of her, a very small part, that anticipates the joy of seeing him again. He would see her, and his face would light up in that way it used to. He would smile, ask her in. They would talk, honestly and openly, like old times, over a cup of coffee, evolved from the cocoa of before. They would catch up on all of the years in between until it would feel like no time had passed and-

"Excuse me, miss?" The voice is shaky, but the tone is firm. She turns around to face an old man holding a pair of garden shears. His accent is British, a fact that makes her heart skip two beats. One of joy; she is home. One of fear; home is no longer welcoming.

"Yes?"

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Notes: It has been a while, I know. But we're coming to a close of this rewrite!

(Original found at: .net(slash)s/11953837/1/Irises )

The song lyrics at the beginning are from Machine Gun Kelly's "Home".