Draco Malfoy stood on Platform 9 3/4, somewhere he hadn't been in nearly twenty years. He inhaled deeply, breathing in familiar scents. The red train stood before him, billowing great puffs of smoke, its namesake written in shiny gold letters. All around him, new students clung tightly to their parents. Older students shouted greetings to friends, eager to catch up on summer news.
He felt her before he saw her. Yet the pricking in the back of his neck had not prepared him for the onset of emotions that overwhelmed him as he saw her. Something in his chest, where his heart might have been, constricted tightly. Her unmistakable bushy brown hair, slightly shorter than how she wore it as a teenager, stuck out among the crowd like a beacon. As she came through the invisible wall to Platform 9 ¾ it was like his vision tunneled toward one person and the rest of the world fell away. The crowd melted into a blurry haze, the noise reduced to a mere buzz in his ears.
His gaze briefly fell on the two smaller redheads that ran out before her. His mind flickered for a moment on what the girl might have looked like with platinum blonde hair rather than red. But in a flash, the vision of a tiny cherub baby with pale curly hair and silvery eyes was gone. He ignored the shaggy redhead holding her hand and stared at her.
Had he been braver, stronger, could it have been him that held her hand as she stepped onto the platform again? Could it have been their child, a son or daughter with his pale blonde hair and their combined intellect, setting off for Hogwarts? He felt his chest constrict for a second time and turned away. Focusing on the shiny red paint of the train, he lost himself in thoughts of the past and the what if's.
"Father," a voice said, yanking him out of his revere.
He looked down, meeting cold grey eyes identical to his own. Scorpious was the splitting image of himself, no trace of his wife in his son's distinctly Malfoy features.
"Those people are staring at you," his son informed him, distaste tingeing his voice.
He looked up in the direction his son had indicated and immediately regretted it. His grey eyes immediately locked with the brilliant green ones of the Boy Who Lived. The four of them were staring at him. His gaze flickered over the other three, lingering for a nanosecond longer on her brown eyes. He nodded curtly and quickly turned away.
Her brown eyes haunted his mind and he felt as though he were drowning. Vaguely aware that his wife was staring at him, he made a production of reaching in his pockets for something. His fingers brushed upon a galleon and he tossed it towards his son.
"For the trolley."
And if his wife heard the crack in his voice she chose to ignore it. Just as she would always ignore the many nights he'd wake up with her name on his lips.
As the Hogwarts Express set off, Draco felt his wife clutch his hand. Her chilly fingers laced with his as she led him away from Platform 9 ¾. He could feel Hermione's brown eyes following his steps and he allowed himself to turn briefly before he passed through the invisible barrier. They held each other's gaze, mud brown against pure silver. For another moment, the Pureblood's thoughts drifted to an impossible child with his eyes and her smile. And he knew he would forever want Hermione Granger. Blood purity be damned.