"Draco caught sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, staring at him, nodding curtly, and turned away again" (Rowling, 2007)
Then I mistook the screaming in my head for the train whistle. Although seeing Hermione here caught me off guard, I tried to mentally prepare for this moment. I was supposed to act like I didn't even know Harry, Ron, Ginny, and definitely Hermione, but instead I nodded, looking like an idiot, without a doubt. I could beat myself up for this or I could move on and pretend I didn't care about acknowledging my former enemies. While all these thoughts rushed through my head my son, Scorpius, tugged on my shirt.
"Dad, should I be going now?" His weak voice asked, his grey eyes moving quickly between his mother and I. "I think the train will be leaving soon."
"You have a few minutes," Astoria whimpered pulling her son to her chest, "Come give me a hug. I love you." She kneeled down to look into Scorpius' eyes.
I stayed standing, trying to not make a scene, even though all the parents were, "Now, be good son. Don't be a trouble maker." I then realized, my son was going to be gone for over three months, I suddenly took him in a tight embrace, "I'm proud of you, son. Try your best, I will love you, no matter what you do or what house you are in. Good luck." I straightened myself out, fixing my collar, while Astoria started crying.
The actual whistle finally blew. Scorpius started off to the Hogwarts express, "Bye Mum, I love you too! Dad I will make you even more proud of me. Love you guys." And he was gone, into the train that shortly disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Astoria grabbed my hand as we started walking, she was talking about this year, the house being lonely and quiet for her when I notice a familiar group walk past.
First Harry hand in hand with Ginny, it sounded they were having a conversation very much like Astoria and I. Then Ron passed, without Hermione. Where was she? Ron stopped and looked back.
"Hurry up!" He shouted to someone behind me, Ron looked in my direction without even looking at me. Then a warm hand touched my shoulder.
"Excuse me," Hermione said in a warm voice, as she pushed herself between my wife and I, although there was plenty of room on both sides of us. Her touch made my heart skip a beat, made memories come swimming back into my mind. It was her touch that I missed so much.
Ever since I started at Hogwarts it was a love- hate relationship between Hermione and me. In public we were sworn enemies, behind closed doors we were friendly. Not friends exactly, I thought, at one point we could be more but that was a mistake. Now, we are nothing.
As a young kid, at eleven years old, I knew I shouldn't be friends with Hermione, she wasn't a pureblood. Soon I realized that it didn't matter if you were from a muggle or wizard family. But being Slytherin, I had an image to uphold.
Feeling horrible for calling Hermione a mudblood, when I was twelve, I apologized the next day.
"I'm sorry, Granger, I didn't mean to say that," I had pleaded, seeing tears in Hermione's eyes. I could tell that she was trying to be strong, and not admit that it hurt, the way she was treated.
"If you really meant that you would have said it in front of Ron and Harry," She pointed out that I cornered her while she was alone, "Besides you knew what you were saying, you know what it means. So don't try to apologize."
With that she was gone. I wasn't able to speak with her again until the end of the year. That didn't mean I didn't try though. After muggle-borns started getting petrified I tried talking to Hermione, I wanted to know she was safe. She would never let me be alone with her again. After she was petrified I went to the Hospital Wing, several times actually, I sat there talking. I told Hermione that I really liked her, I knew she wouldn't hear me.
Finally when she was awake at the end of the year I found Hermione after the feast. "Hey, Granger!" I shouted in the deserted hallway, "I'm, er very glad that you are okay," I mumbled.
"Thanks," She replied slowly, her eyes peering deep into mine, trying to tell if I was being sincere. I started walking away, embarrassed, then Hermione stopped me, "Wait, if you really want to be nice to me then call me Hermione."
"I will. So- er Hermione," I looked down trying not to be awkward, "Can I write you this summer?"
"If you want," she said quickly, "But I might not write back." Hermione started walking away from me, then turned around and added, "Have a nice summer, Malfoy."
That summer I wrote every week to Hermione, without my dad even knowing, until I got a letter. It was addressed to Draco from Hermione. I thought she would never write to me, the letter came one week before school started.
