Hermione has travelled to Australia to restore her parent's memories. I hope you enjoy!
Another Houses Competition story!
House: Slytherin, Class: Charms, Category: Drabble, Prompt: "How can I help you today", Wordcount: 519
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I've been walking around the shop for an hour now, looking in through the windows, watching the workers inside. I'm too anxious to go in. My heart is racing and my palms are sweaty. God, this shouldn't be that hard. It's only a damn bookshop β I've been in hundreds of those!
There is something special about this shop though, and something unique about who works inside.
It's been two weeks since I arrived in Sydney, and I've spent those two weeks wandering past this shop window, pretending to be fascinated by the architecture, and overthinking far too much. I just haven't been able to push past my nervousness, enter through those front doors, and do what I came here to do.
I twist my hands together and glance around. Fuck it. I push the door and step into the bookstore.
Oh god, oh god, oh god. I grip my handbag tightly and try to relish in the cool air-conditioned environment, so different to the harsh Sydney outside. I try to embrace the comfort of books around me, the soft furnishings of this store, andβ
"How can I help you today?"
My mother's voice comes to me like a daydream across a lake, a million miles away. She smiles like my mother. She has her features, her laughter, her gentleness. But there is something so frighteningly unfamiliar about this woman standing before me.
She is not my mother. I need to tell myself that.
She's staring at me. So, I reply, with a cracked voice, "Oh, I'm, uh, looking for a book."
She laughs lightly. "Well, you've come to the right place! What sort of thing are you looking for?"
"Something magical," I say, willing my voice to go on. Maybe she notices the way my eyes tear up, the way my speech patterns fracture. She looks uncomfortable with my outburst of emotional affect. This is not my mother. My mother would never get nervous when I cried to her face. This is not my mother. "I'm sorry β I have to go!"
I leave the store feeling emptier than when I went in.
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Ever since the war ended, I've been toying with the idea of waking my parents up to their reality and pulling them from their Australian dreams. Ron and I have spoken at great lengths about it, deliberating on when the timing would be right, or if it was even the right thing to do. I'm still not sure. I don't think I ever will be.
It's an impossible decision; I don't want to destroy their happiness. And I can't quite give myself the order to wake them up from this dream and to become my parents again. In a way, it would be a curse for them to be the Grangers again, and for them to have to realise what has happened β and what I did to them.
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I go back to the shop a few more times. I buy a few books, read them too quickly, and speak to Ron on the floo.
I travel back to England a week or two after that.
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Thanks for reading!
I'll be honest, I'm having a bit of a bad week. Although this plot really spoke to me, I haven't had much brain space this week. So, I wish it was a bit better, but here we are! Perhaps I'll come back to this one and expand it another time.
