You could always tell when the first of September was near, too near for comfort yet not near enough. The house was divided by these two views. He sighed as he closed his book of magical creatures, rubbing his forehead tenderly. The pans were clanking in the kitchen, a clear sign of his mother’s nerves. She was always like this for the final three days preceding his departure, the nerves and the anxiety and the sadness. Contrary to her beliefs, he resented leaving her alone in this large house, the memories of a darker time when the fighting had been so hostile between his parents still lingering, before one of the Abram men had nearly died. She needed him, but she was convinced he would never again need her. The truth was that he needed her always, even when they were apart, even when she couldn’t bare to look at him. She came before all else, and the only thing he couldn’t do for her was stay. He couldn’t. He had to shield her from the perils that existed in the wizarding world while he fought for those like him. He would not be a coward and be exiled from Hogwarts, his castle. He would never be a coward again.

He stood up at the sound of a particularly loud thud, making his way down the stairs towards the kitchen. The smell of her special Swedish meatballs filled the air, and a soft smile played at his lips. He entered the kitchen to find the frazzled woman over the stove, her golden brown locks in disarray and her hands flitting over the surface. Her apron, the one that he had decorated for her when he was six, was draped over her front. He leaned against the door frame, admiring her for a moment. He couldn’t understand how she could cook and bake so much. He usually helped her at the bakery during the summers when he wasn’t off studying, and she graced the kitchen with coveted prowess and envied elegance. As eccentric as the woman had been ever since the divorce, she was as graceful as a swan in a kitchen, usually. He loved that about her most.

“The pots did nothing to you, Mum,” he smirked as he stepped further into the room. “I mean, yes, I fancy your meatballs dearly, but I’m patient.” The woman whipped around with a gasp, and he knew he had snapped her from her thoughts. They were one in the same in that regard, slipping so easily into their own minds and becoming oblivious to the world.  “Oh, Aramy, you scared me,” she sighed with a light giggle. She was the only one on Earth other than his grandmother that could get away with calling him Aramy. “I was just - you know. I get into my rhythm.” He smiled. “Yes, a trait you’ve handed down, and my mates could attest to that.” Her smile faltered at the response, and she looked back to the stove. He realized his mistake, and squeezed his eyes shut. Moving over to her, he took her hand, causing her to face him again. Cupping her cheeks, he kissed her forehead.

“You’re my world, Mum,” he sighed. “Don’t ever forget that, and - I know it’s still hard for you, even after all this time.” He snickered. “But I’ll always come home.” “You - you’re almost eighteen,” she managed, her eyes watering as she looked away, her hands moving to rest upon his. “I’ve wasted so much time, and - now you’re not my little boy anymore, Aramy.” “Hey now. None of that. We’re past that. No, I’m not your little boy, but I’ll always be your son, and you’ll always be my number one woman, and I will always come home, no matter how old I am. Even years from now, you’re going to live with me and my wife and all your grandchildren somewhere.” They both shared a chortle. “But, Mum, I - I love school. I do, and it’s - it’s where I need to be.” “But-” She wiped her eyes now before attempting a smile. “Could you be happy here with me?”

His own smile was sad, soft, knowing he could never explain the extent of his necessary presence in the castle. “Mum, I could be happy anywhere with you, but - I would never fit in. At school, I - I’m not some freak. I’m normal, average.” “Oh, you’ll never be average, Aramis Ares.” “Well, maybe not, but I fit in, and I stand out and - everything in between. It’s where I belong, but this will always be home, and you’ll always mean everything to me.” As she processed his words, she looked up, and her smile turned genuine. He matched it. She then placed her hands on his cheeks, a joyous yet watery laugh escaping her.