Miss Blotts
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated characters, ideas, or concepts related to the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.
Bumblebee Flies Away
Chapter One: Hogwarts
Platform 9 ¾, 1855
Already having opened the small jar of sherbet lemons his mother had slipped to him earlier, Albus gave the woman a sticky kiss on either cheek. He shifted from foot to foot, practically shaking from pent up excitement. Adjusting his hat, he quickly decided against wearing it at all and stuffed it into his pocket. He grinned toothily up at her as she sighed sadly and pulled out a handkerchief, spat on it, and began wiping at the edges of his mouth.
"Mum," he complained. "Come on, now. Really, I think I'll be all right." He swiped playfully at her hands, secretly enjoying the attention. Albus dodged the hankie as it came towards him again. His mother gave up, stuffing the embroidered handkerchief into his fist, and took his face in both hands and began giving him weepy kisses on the cheek. Her red lipstick left horrible smudges on his freckled face.
"My little Albus, all grown up!" She dabbed at the tears under her eyes with the back of her hand, her chin and bottom lip shaking as she tried to hold in more tears. The boy gasped in horror at her behavior and writhed, trying to escape her grasp. He ducked under her arm, but she caught him as he tried to make his way off and pulled him into a hug.
"Mum! Come on, Mum, this has really got to stop," he protested as he looked over her shoulder at the other students. "Everyone is watching. Aberforth said you would do this."
"Is it such a crime for me to say goodbye to my son? I'll just miss you so much," she said. "You'll be away a long time, and I'm going to be home all alone. I just don't know what I'll do with myself while you and your brother are away."
Albus groaned as he finally wriggled out of the hug, escaping his mother's vice-like grip. "I don't see why you couldn't have done this at home," he grimaced as he wiped at his lipstick-smeared cheek with the palm of his hand. "I don't think you've got an idea how this whole thing looks. The other First Years' mums aren't acting like you, and I bet those Sixth Years are laughing at me." He gestured his hand in the direction of a group of boys that could not have been older than fourteen that stood in a circle, chuckling amongst themselves as they watched the First Years all getting farewells very similar to Albus'. He straightened his sweater vest and smoothed his rumpled hair, somehow managing to still look as if he had rolled out of bed. "I don't think you've quite finished sucking off Aberforth's face yet. Why don't you go attack him for a while longer? He's looking like his pride is starting to return."
Scowling at Albus, his mother smoothed his red hair again before heading towards a small group of boys. He saw her latch herself onto a tall redheaded boy, his brother, and laughed to himself as Aberforth briefly protested before giving in to his mother's attention. Albus fumbled with his trunk, dragging it to the train and with the help of a Slytherin prefect named Adams managed to get it into a luggage compartment. Adams shook his hand to wish him luck at the sorting ceremony and said that he hoped to see Albus in his house.
Albus waved goodbye to his mother as she began to get weepy again when the train whistle blew loudly throughout the station. He had already piled himself into an empty compartment; a muggle novel was stuck under his arm as he fiddled with the stuck window, pulling it open with a loud slam that shook the glass. "Bye, Mum!" he shouted out the window, waving his arm wildly. His hand was still clenched in a fist, his mother's crumpled hankie held tightly rolled up in it. The train rocked as it began to move, and then shook as it built up momentum. With one final wave and a promise that he would write, Albus pulled the window closed with a bit of effort and sat down.
The seating compartment he was in had newly upholstered seats, a bright red fabric that was soft to touch. The cushions were spongy and Albus bounced experimentally, smiling as he set his book on his lap. Opening the leather-bound tome, he swung his feet as he carefully folded his mother's embroidered handkerchief, using it as a place keeper.