The platform was bustling with activity, even more so than usual, with families shouting farewells at one another and children running askew. A fog-like smoke seemed to be settling in above the mass of people, a weary reminder of the goodbyes and pressing departure.
Happily, students boarded the Hogwarts Express enthusiastically, all hopefully prepared to begin a new year. Older kids walked around with a certain familiarity and smugness as they looked on at tiny first-years who stared wide eyed at the beginning of a year away from their homes and families. Excitement hung in the air and clang to each being like a morning dew, it was a time for fresh starts and new beginnings, just what so many looked forward to after a long summer spent away from their friends and the magical castle many now called a second home.
However, despite the almost rampant enthusiasm, on small duo stood apart from the crowd, talking quietly though with a sense of urgent sadness. There, a man who looked to be in his late forties stood comforting an older girl, most like a 6th or 7th year.
Draco Malfoy had not changed much since his years at Hogwarts. He still had the same light hair, pale skin, and sharp features that he so proudly displayed as a boy. Yet there was something in his demeanor that was quite different. Long lost was the look of despair and stress, a result of his rather brutal and abusive childhood. He looked happier, more calm, except the people who knew him best could see the immense hurt he held in his eyes. A look of loss and complete grief. It was almost all Juliette Malfoy could see when she looked to her father… a constant reminder of both his and her pain.
Juliette was nearly a exact replica of her father. With the same hair color and locks that fell in loose waves down her back, same pale skin that seemed almost iridescent, and the same light grey eyes that appeared almost cold, like a winter morning. The only reminiscing features of her mother could be seen in her features, which were much more delicate than Draco's. Her nose was small and more curves, her face softer and more feminine, and her eyes wide and innocent. She was a lovely girl to anyone who laid eyes on her, perhaps a little peculiar considering the paleness of her looks, but she too was plagued with a sadness that seemed to radiate off of her. It was the kind of sadness that seemed everlasting, one that covered her aura, darkened her light in a sense.
But nevertheless, she was something. Juliette Malfoy was something.