Goodbyes
Date: September 1st
Place: Platform 9¾
Word Count: 434
Her lungs, completely emptied for a moment, filled with a sharp intake of air as Iris came out of the wall that separated the Muggle train station from platform 9¾. Right after her, her parents and grandmother arrived.
“Keep your back straight, Iris, you’re slumping.” Her mother said, patting her shoulders. With a gulp, she obeyed, and her fingers tightened ever so slightly around the handle of the barrow that carried her luggage.
In the air lingered a faint smell of smoke, probably coming from the flaming red train, waiting on the binary for all the kids to get on. All around her, there was a faint chatter: kids talking between themselves or with their parents. Scared ones, excited ones, ones that asked for the last hug or for reassurance, ones that jumped while their parents, worried, tried uselessly to inculcate some recommendations and rules to follow into their heads.
Her lips parted in a shuddering breath. Iris didn’t know how she felt. Trepidating? Anxious?
“It’s going to be a great year for you, Iris. You will do great, you’ll have fun.” Her father said calmly, with an almost reassuring tone. “Write to us if you need anything.” Her mother added as her grandma nodded along. The kid smiled. It was one of the few moments of pseudo-sweetness between her and her parents. “Thank you mom, thank you dad.” She replied quietly, a polite smile on her face. “May I hug you?” She asked.
“Sure, dear.” Her grandmother replied, opening her arms. Iris stepped forward and placed her head on her grandma’s broad chest.
Then it was her father’s turn. He got on his knees and let her place her head on his shoulders as he gently pulled her to his chest. “Be good.” He recommended. As they parted, he placed a kiss on her forehead.
At last, she hugged her mother. Her arms felt weirdly tight around her, way more affectionate than she was used to. Her mother, like her father, placed a kiss on her forehead.
The loving moment, however, ended as, looking away for a moment, Magnolia placed both her hands on her delicate shoulders. “You won’t disappoint us, Iris. Be the best.” She said. It wasn’t even an order. Or, well, it was. But it was an affirmation. That left no room for smudges and mistakes.
Iris’ chest tightened a little, with unease, but she didn’t let it show. With her throat closing, she gave a sharp, silent nod.
Then, leaving her family behind her, she got on the train, giving them one last wave before disappearing behind the door.
“Keep your back straight, Iris, you’re slumping.” Her mother said, patting her shoulders. With a gulp, she obeyed, and her fingers tightened ever so slightly around the handle of the barrow that carried her luggage.
In the air lingered a faint smell of smoke, probably coming from the flaming red train, waiting on the binary for all the kids to get on. All around her, there was a faint chatter: kids talking between themselves or with their parents. Scared ones, excited ones, ones that asked for the last hug or for reassurance, ones that jumped while their parents, worried, tried uselessly to inculcate some recommendations and rules to follow into their heads.
Her lips parted in a shuddering breath. Iris didn’t know how she felt. Trepidating? Anxious?
“It’s going to be a great year for you, Iris. You will do great, you’ll have fun.” Her father said calmly, with an almost reassuring tone. “Write to us if you need anything.” Her mother added as her grandma nodded along. The kid smiled. It was one of the few moments of pseudo-sweetness between her and her parents. “Thank you mom, thank you dad.” She replied quietly, a polite smile on her face. “May I hug you?” She asked.
“Sure, dear.” Her grandmother replied, opening her arms. Iris stepped forward and placed her head on her grandma’s broad chest.
Then it was her father’s turn. He got on his knees and let her place her head on his shoulders as he gently pulled her to his chest. “Be good.” He recommended. As they parted, he placed a kiss on her forehead.
At last, she hugged her mother. Her arms felt weirdly tight around her, way more affectionate than she was used to. Her mother, like her father, placed a kiss on her forehead.
The loving moment, however, ended as, looking away for a moment, Magnolia placed both her hands on her delicate shoulders. “You won’t disappoint us, Iris. Be the best.” She said. It wasn’t even an order. Or, well, it was. But it was an affirmation. That left no room for smudges and mistakes.
Iris’ chest tightened a little, with unease, but she didn’t let it show. With her throat closing, she gave a sharp, silent nod.
Then, leaving her family behind her, she got on the train, giving them one last wave before disappearing behind the door.