FINALLY back to alphabet drabbles!!!
I'm finally back to alphabet drabbles. (For those who haven't read them yet, A-H are posted in my hpficlets section.)
I is for Imaginary
"What's your name?" Hermione asked the little girl as she carefully dressed the doll in her hand.
"Hattie," the little girl answered. Her slight figure was ethereal in the dim light.
"Mine's Hermione. I'm here visiting my Gran. I wish I didn't have to. Gran doesn't like me very much. Everybody tells me I'm really smart; I can even read a little. No matter how much I try it's just...not enough," she said in a quiet voice, keeping her eyes on her doll.
"Is that why you're up here playing with me?" Hattie asked sympathetically.
"Um hmm. So why are you up here?”
“I don’t know. I was sick, very sick. Mummy seemed so sad and I wanted to make her feel better. I went about trying to get someone to see me but no one could until you.”
“No one sees you?” Hermione said in alarm. “Who takes care of you? Where’s your mummy?”
“I don’t know. Mummy got really sick too after a while.”
“My mummy and daddy would take care of you,” Hermione said with certainty. "I'll go get them."
“No, don’t, I don’t really need anyone. I mostly stay here and play with my dollies.”
“You have such pretty dollies. I love their formal clothes. I like your dress too."
Hattie smiled and sighed. "I like yours better. These skirts are so itchy. Mummy would never let me wear a skirt like yours; she wouldn't let me show my legs."
"Well, it's really not that short..."
"Hermione!" Sylvia Granger's voice called up the stairs. "Are you in the attic?"
"Yes Mummy."
Sylvia and Olivia Granger climbed up the stairs. “What were you doing here?” Olivia asked in an accusing tone.
“I was just playing with my friend,” Hermione said. “Mummy, can we take her home and take care of her?”
“Nonsense, there’s no one here,” Olivia sniffed.
“She was just…” Hermione turned to see empty space. “I promise she was just here!”
“There’s no one here, dear,” Sylvia said.
“She was! She was!” Hermione cried.
“Stop making up stories! I will not have a little liar in my house,” Olivia warned.
“Olivia, she just has an imaginary friend. She’s five years old, for God’s sake,” Sylvia sighed.
Olivia humphed and went down the stairs.
“Come on, darling, it’s time for lunch,” Sylvia held out her hand.
“She was real, Mummy,” Hermione sniffed.
“Come on, love.”
“It was nice to have a friend to play with,” Hermione whispered.
Sylvia clasped her daughter tightly with a worried sigh. Hermione put the old porcelain doll away in the trunk and closed it, her hand on the gold placard labeled “Henrietta Francesca Granger 1898.” As Hermione turned to follow her mother down the stairs she saw the shadowy figure return, waving goodbye. She hoped that she would be able to play with her new friend next time she came.
I is for Imaginary
"What's your name?" Hermione asked the little girl as she carefully dressed the doll in her hand.
"Hattie," the little girl answered. Her slight figure was ethereal in the dim light.
"Mine's Hermione. I'm here visiting my Gran. I wish I didn't have to. Gran doesn't like me very much. Everybody tells me I'm really smart; I can even read a little. No matter how much I try it's just...not enough," she said in a quiet voice, keeping her eyes on her doll.
"Is that why you're up here playing with me?" Hattie asked sympathetically.
"Um hmm. So why are you up here?”
“I don’t know. I was sick, very sick. Mummy seemed so sad and I wanted to make her feel better. I went about trying to get someone to see me but no one could until you.”
“No one sees you?” Hermione said in alarm. “Who takes care of you? Where’s your mummy?”
“I don’t know. Mummy got really sick too after a while.”
“My mummy and daddy would take care of you,” Hermione said with certainty. "I'll go get them."
“No, don’t, I don’t really need anyone. I mostly stay here and play with my dollies.”
“You have such pretty dollies. I love their formal clothes. I like your dress too."
Hattie smiled and sighed. "I like yours better. These skirts are so itchy. Mummy would never let me wear a skirt like yours; she wouldn't let me show my legs."
"Well, it's really not that short..."
"Hermione!" Sylvia Granger's voice called up the stairs. "Are you in the attic?"
"Yes Mummy."
Sylvia and Olivia Granger climbed up the stairs. “What were you doing here?” Olivia asked in an accusing tone.
“I was just playing with my friend,” Hermione said. “Mummy, can we take her home and take care of her?”
“Nonsense, there’s no one here,” Olivia sniffed.
“She was just…” Hermione turned to see empty space. “I promise she was just here!”
“There’s no one here, dear,” Sylvia said.
“She was! She was!” Hermione cried.
“Stop making up stories! I will not have a little liar in my house,” Olivia warned.
“Olivia, she just has an imaginary friend. She’s five years old, for God’s sake,” Sylvia sighed.
Olivia humphed and went down the stairs.
“Come on, darling, it’s time for lunch,” Sylvia held out her hand.
“She was real, Mummy,” Hermione sniffed.
“Come on, love.”
“It was nice to have a friend to play with,” Hermione whispered.
Sylvia clasped her daughter tightly with a worried sigh. Hermione put the old porcelain doll away in the trunk and closed it, her hand on the gold placard labeled “Henrietta Francesca Granger 1898.” As Hermione turned to follow her mother down the stairs she saw the shadowy figure return, waving goodbye. She hoped that she would be able to play with her new friend next time she came.