Nineteen years later and he still recognized the familiar feeling of loneliness and solidarity when he saw the big red train. The other two at his heel, he led them with long, silent strides through the smoke, crying parents and screaming children.
Cold sweat. Head ache. He looked to the sun with his fists clenched.
Nineteen years later and there she was. Not alone, but accompanied by her three red heads.
His nails dug deep into his palms while questioning himself over and over again inside his head why she still made his heart hurt as much as she did so long ago.
Nineteen years later, and she was just as he had remembered her.
Heart pounding. Trouble breathing. Sweat falling. Hands shaking.
And yet while he was falling apart, she was standing there with her family and friends, looking so beautiful, so happy, and just as scintillating and fascinating and endearing as she was so many years ago.
His eyes left her family just for a moment to turn around to look at his own only to find himself unsatisfied because he and the two behind him seemed somber and cold while she and hers looked warm and content.
He turned back around and grey met brown.
Nineteen years later, and all Draco Malfoy gave was a solemn nod at Hermione Granger.
Nineteen years of having memorized her exact eye colour, remembering her touch, hearing her voice in his dreams, and loving her… all Draco Malfoy could manage was a single nod. After nineteen years of waiting, her nod back at him confirmed that it was time for him to move forwards.
She turned away from him first.
Heart breaking. Fists still clenched. He looked away from the woman he loved to the woman he was supposed to love.
Holding her hand while their son climbed the stairs up the train, Draco's vision was blurred.
He could blame the tears that would not fall on his son, who was already waving to them through the windows.
But they were for her.
The whistle blew. Final goodbyes.
He turned to leave, his woman still clinging to his side.
Nineteen years later, and she never looked back at him.
Nineteen years later, and Draco Malfoy looked to the distance with clenched fists so that the memories of her would not slip away and become as distant as the sun that he could not touch.