Nineteen years had passed since she'd last seen him. Nineteen years had passed since she had felt the familiar feeling in her stomach. Nineteen years had been the time it had taken to get over him. Nineteen years worth of emotion was about to come flooding back.
She saw him standing on the train platform, his blond hair slicked back in its all too well-known way. A section at the front had broken free and danced about in the September breeze as he watched the train depart in a cloud of smoke. He took a deep sigh, staring at the ground, minding his own business. He didn't think that anyone had seen him, or remembered who he was, but she did.
Every movement he made reminded her of her time at school. She had spent every meal watching him. She knew how he pushed his hair back when it fell in his eyes, how he smirked when he found something mildly amusing and the full on smile he gave when he was happy. No one else had ever noticed the way his eyes shone out when he was genuinely happy. She did.
The man looked back up at the departing train. His whole life was leaving him behind. He cared for no one else but his child. After the death of his mother and father there was no one else he wanted to look after, no one else he felt a special bond with. His child was part of him; an outward projection of all his feelings, his hopes, his dreams, his ambitions and his nightmares.
Perhaps in another man's shoes he would have been happier. If he had lived a different life he would have been standing there surrounded by a laughing family, happy, full of conviviality. As it so happened, he was not. There was no one he could blame for his situation. Perhaps he had brought some of it on himself. His refusal to mix with other children at school and his complete admiration for the short-sighted prejudices of his father. He had never questioned whether he was right or wrong, until he had seen her.
The way she had seemed to in love with the world had made him unsure of how he felt about his own, personal understanding of the way things work. She had seven brothers to take care of her, loving parents and a need to strive for the good in everything. Maybe if he'd been a little more open at the start he would have picked up on what truly mattered in life. By the time his epiphany had occurred it was too late.
He had always told himself that things would change and in a way they had. He had the knowledge that his son would grow up differently to the way he did, that he would grow up more like her. His son was loved by his father and to Draco that's all that mattered. He knew that as long as his son believed in love then he had a chance in life. He would be a better person for it.
As he turned to leave he saw her. A lifetime's worth of memories flooded back to him, warming his soul and instantly lifting his spirits. Unable to contain his emotions they spread outwards on his face. His eyes glittered with a joy that he had not known for nineteen years. He instantly remembered all of her features, they raced back from some part of his consciousness that he had tried to forget. Her red hair flew about in the wind behind her, her chocolate brown eyes shone out with affection; she hadn't changed a bit.
They knew the boundaries keeping them apart, the social restrictions that forbade any sort of outward, mutual conduct. And so they smiled. They simply smiled at each other, communicating something that had been lost that shouldn't have been. Something that was so pure that neither of them really knew how to react. Draco faltered for a second, wondering whether he would be able to speak to her, but a warning glare of green from her husband stopped him from doing anything.
He nodded curtly at the two couples that stood before him. Wishing to communicate the admiration that he had developed for all four of them. He knew from the look in her eyes that she had understood it, and to him, that was all that mattered. He left the platform, eyes fixed on the ground, body full of emotion.
Ginny just stood and watched him leave. Her heart breaking once more.