AN: I own nothing and am just playing with JK Rowling's toys.


A small half-smile played at the corners of Hannah Abbot’s lips as her gaze swept around her room. It was amazing how quickly it became truly ‘hers’ again every time she returned from school. Only half an hour ago, it had seemed strangely foreign in its emptiness, but now it had those familiar touches that inexplicably marked her presence. A discarded jumper lay thrown haphazardly over the back of a chair and promptly forgotten, whilst a battered pot of lipbalm and a stray, silver necklace now filled the empty expanse of the dressing table and shoes splayed in a comical dance at its base. The soft smell of the lilies her mother had put in there ready for her return masked the mustiness of disuse, and her footsteps no longer echoed on the hardwood floor as if the walls were unused to the noise.

Sighing in soft contentment, she collapsed backwards onto her bed, curling her legs up beneath her and spreading her arms, and closed her eyes. The bright sunlight, streaming through the open window to sweep across her face, warmed her cheeks and made the inside of her eyelids glow a deep, flickering red, whilst the gentle breeze left goosebumps on her bare arms. If she listened just hard enough, she could swear that the breeze carried the low roar of the nearby sea, and she could almost taste its salty tang in the air.

Lulled by the comforting surroundings that would forever mean home, she drifted into sleep, not even waking as the afternoon’s warmth turned to evening’s chill and her mother drew down the sash against the crueller, night breeze that lapped at her sleeping form.