Memories Unlocked
Two young children bounded along Platform 9 ¾ alongside the scarlet steam engine that was the Hogwarts Express.
"Come on Hugo," yelled the older of the two, her bushy brown hair and black cloak fanning out behind her as she ran. The small ginger-haired boy puffed along behind his older sister, running as fast as his short legs would carry him.
"Rosie, wait!" Hugo called after her. "You know I'm not as fast as you are."
The eleven-year-old girl simply giggled and ran even faster ahead of her brother, until she became parallel with the end carriage, where she stopped to catch her breath and turned to look for her brother. Hugo Weasley soon caught up to his sister, two years his senior, and stooped down with his hands braced on his knees puffing and panting. Rose rolled her eyes at Hugo's dramatics and looked over his red head to search out their parents.
Hermione walked silently beside her husband whilst trying to keep an eye on their children who were tearing down the platform. She took a sideways glance at the tall red-haired man walking beside her, and couldn't help but roll her eyes as he heeded no attention to their children but was merely looking around himself nodding and waving greetings to many people he didn't even know on a personal level.
With an inward sigh, Hermione turned back to search for Hugo and Rose.
"Mummy, over here!"
Hermione looked up through the steam that had begun to pour from the engine and was now engulfing everyone on the platform, creating an almost dream-like quality, and spotted her two angels next to the last carriage. She gave Ron a nudge and indicated that he should follow her, as she steered the trolley in the direction of her children.
Hermione looked down at her son, still panting from chasing his sister, and then to her first born; her bright, stubborn, intelligent daughter, who resembled Hermione as much in personality as she did in looks. A small smile played on Hermione's lips as she looked at her Rose, all set for her first year in Hogwarts and so eager to get there and begin learning that she had insisted on wearing her school robes since breakfast time, and already had Hogwarts: A History memorised.
Then Hermione's gaze turned to her husband, watching Ron push Rose's trunk into the carriage, and her smile turned into a frown. Things hadn't been too good between them lately. Sure they kept up appearances in public, and even at home for their children's sakes, but Hermione and Ron's marriage was definitely in the middle of a rocky patch.
A patch the size of the Sahara desert, thought Hermione bitterly.
"Where are they?" asked Rose, breaking her mother's reverie. Rose then huffed in an impatient manner, sounding so very like her mother had at that age. She began bobbing around, trying to see through the steam.
Forcing a smile upon her face, Hermione turned to her daughter and said, "I'm sure they will be here any minute, sweetie." And she too turned and squinted through the mist.
Please get here soon, she pleaded in her mind. I can't stand the silence any more!
Voices drifted around the misty platform seemingly detached from the bodies to which they belonged. Suddenly Hermione caught a familiar voice nearby and heaved a sigh of relief when the outlines of her best friends and two of their children emerged from the steam.
"Hi," said young Albus Potter approaching Rose, in a relieved voice after searching the whole of the large platform for her. Rose grinned back at him, barely able to contain her excitement.
Hermione gave Harry a swift peck on his cheek, and turned to give Ginny a hug, before ruffling Albus's black hair and tucking a loose strand of auburn hair behind his sister, Lily's ear.
"Parked all right, then?" Ron asked, shaking Harry's hand. "I did. Hermione didn't believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you?" he turned to his wife, with a seemingly light-hearted tone, but Hermione alone could detect the hint of accusation. "She thought I'd have to Confund the examiner."
"No, I didn't," replied Hermione, like a dutiful wife, knowing full well that he had indeed Confunded the poor Muggle. "I had complete faith in you," she added, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.
As the men conversed quietly whilst loading Albus's trunk and owl onto the Hogwarts Express, Ginny moved to stand beside her best friend and discreetly gave her hand a quick reassuring squeeze.
"How are things?" she asked quietly, closely studying Hermione's features. Ginny noted how pale and tired she looked, her usually bright inquisitive chocolate brown eyes lacked their sparkle, and her brown hair, that had been tamed into glamorous waves in recent years, was frizzy once more.
Hermione turned to her flame-haired companion with a small, tight-lipped smile. "Fine," she said briskly.
Ginny looked at her disbelievingly; after all she had had her suspicions about the state of the Weasley-Granger marriage for quite some time. Ginny once again gave Hermione's hand a brief squeeze, to let her know that she was there, if the latter needed her.
Hermione squeezed back to let Ginny know that she understood, and nodded a small thank you. Hermione sighed internally, looking at her petite friend with the fiery hair and fiery personality, and hoped to Merlin that Ginny appreciated what she had with Harry and never once took their real love, their true love for granted.
Rose emerged from the carriage of the train behind her Uncle Harry, after carrying her owl cage into the end compartment. Albus clung to his mother's hand tightly, and Hugo and Lily were having an animated discussion about what house they wanted to be sorted into when they finally got to go to Hogwarts.
"If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," interjected Ron, "but no pressure."
Lily and Hugo giggled, Rose's excitement faltered and poor Albus visibly paled.
"He doesn't mean it!" reassured Hermione, crouching down to eye-level with the children, turning to glare at Ron over her shoulder, but he was no longer paying attention.
Catching Harry's eye, Ron gestured at something further down the platform with a nod of his red head. Harry turned, along with Ginny who gasped aloud. Hermione quickly straightened up, smoothing down her dark denim skirt, and turning to see what had caught her family's attention.
Through the steam still issuing in swirls from the engine of the mighty train, a familiar silhouette emerged, causing Hermione's breath to catch in her throat and a feeling that her stomach had filled with lead and consequently sunk into her shoes.
There, roughly 50 yards down the platform stood a man she hadn't seen for nearly 13 years.
His all too familiar white blond hair hung around his handsome porcelain face, standing out in contrast against the dark coat that clad his tall slender frame, buttoned up to his throat.
"Draco," Hermione breathed silently, eyes still transfixed.
Feeling their eyes upon him, Draco Malfoy turned and was somewhat surprised to see who was staring at him. He directed a swift polite nod at Harry and Ginny, choosing to ignore Ron completely. Draco turned his back on them, and then took a sly look back over his shoulder, locking eyes with Hermione.
Hermione was startled and took a sharp intake of breath as her eyes locked onto the cool silver eyes of her one time nemesis. She was rendered unable to look away or even blink, as he held her gaze steady, his look indiscernible. A small flush reddened her cheeks at the intensity of Draco's gaze, until he finally turned away, but still Hermione stared at him.
"So," came Ron's voice, light and breathy, "that's little Scorpius."
Hermione snapped back to reality and shook herself mentally. Turning back she now noticed that Draco was standing with a woman, presumably his wife, and had his hand resting lightly on the shoulder of a young boy who greatly resembled him.
"Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie," continued Ron. "Thank god you inherited your mother's brains."
Hermione shook her head. "Ron, for heaven's sake," she snapped. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!" Hermione's voice held a hint of amusement, though, as this was the closest Ron had come to paying her a compliment for a very long time.
"You're right, sorry," said Ron, before adding, "don't get too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Grandad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pure-blood."
Harry and Ginny chuckled, and Hermione smiled a small, almost sad, smile. It wasn't a pleasant thought to think that after everything they had been through nineteen years ago and the rebuilding of society over many years after the War, certain rifts were still being forced upon the next generation.
Glancing at her watch Hermione swept Rose into a tight hug, and kissed her daughter, making her promise to write home at least once a week. Rose hugged her father, younger brother and cousin, before clambering onto the train, her face almost splitting in two from the broadest of grins.
The whistle sounded, to signal for the stragglers to board the train, and there was a flurry of last minute action; doors banging and clanging, parents calling out last minute reminders, and pets being passed to and fro.
Albus jumped into the carriage, looking a lot happier after a brief talk with his father, and Ginny closed the door behind him. A great number of people, both on the train and off, seemed to be craning to get a look at Harry.
"Why are they all staring?" demanded Albus, as he and Rose looked around.
"Don't let that worry you," said Ron. "It's me. I'm extremely famous."
Albus, Rose, Hugo and Lily laughed and Hermione clenched her jaw. You wish, she thought savagely.
The train began to move, and Harry walked along side it, waving encouragingly to Albus, and then to James, his elder son, who leant out of a window further up the train. Hermione blew a final kiss to Rose before taking hold of Hugo's small hand and preparing to leave for home.
Draco Malfoy stood surrounded by swirly white mist on Platform 9 ¾, as more steam poured from the funnel atop the scarlet engine of the mighty Hogwarts Express, engulfing all the figures jostling about the platform and hiding them from view.
Draco ran a slender hand through his platinum blond hair, brushing it back from his face, and turned his cool silver eyes to the young boy standing before him. A warm smile graced his lips as his eyes took in the boy's appearance.
Scorpius Malfoy was an exact replica of what his father had looked like at eleven years old. Same tall, slender build, same white blond hair, same ice-grey eyes. The only thing that differed was the way Scorpius carried himself. When Draco was a child he walked with his nose in the air and a haughty, aloof expression on his features, but Scorpius had developed a softer, more humane stance, the stance of the fully matured elder Malfoy.
Draco squeezed his son's shoulder, knowing how nervous the young boy was, although he would never admit it aloud. Just like I never did, thought Draco with a wry smirk.
Suddenly a hand entwined itself in Draco's, startling him from his musings. He looked down at his petite, dark-haired wife. He gave her a small smile, before extracting himself from her grasp in order to load their son's trunk and owl cage onto the train carriage. Draco sighed inwardly and gave a small sad shake of his head. Peering back through the billowing steam he could discern several high-up Ministry employees with their families, confirming Draco's suspicions, as Pansy only ever displayed affection in that manner when there were influential people that she wanted to impress.
Scorpius's owl gave an indignant hoot, as its cage was rattled. Draco stared at the bird with an apologetic look and gave it an owl treat from the pocket of his dark coat. He didn't mean to take his frustrations out on the poor defenceless creature, but he couldn't help feeling hurt upon occasion, as it became more and more apparent that his was a marriage of convenience. What saddened him the most however, was that over the years he had genuinely come to love Pansy, maybe he had not fallen in love with her, but he loved her all the same. Although now, it was becoming clear to Draco that the feelings weren't reciprocated, and his wife was becoming more and more distant to him.
After returning to stand beside his family, Draco had the distinct impression of being watched. He turned towards the back end of the train and was startled to see four pairs of eyes on him. His eyes quickly swept the scene before him, taking in the couples and their offspring. He could see a young girl with them, already wearing her Hogwarts robes, and felt a small twinge in his abdomen.
Draco nodded politely in the direction of Potter and his ginger wife, and then, choosing to ignore the Weasel and his wife completely, he turned back to his son. But unable to resist, he slightly turned his head back over his right shoulder to look at her.
And there she was, still staring at him although her companions had adverted their gaze. Hermione Granger. Weasley! Draco bitterly reminded himself. For a moment it felt like the train, the platform and all the people milling around had melted away, and it was just the two of them staring at each other through the mist, like a strange dream.
Draco continued to hold her gaze, losing himself in her warm chocolate eyes, feeling his intestines tie themselves in knots. He kept his face free from emotion, biting back a smirk as he saw a blush creep up Hermione's neck and onto her cheeks.
Finally he could take no more and forced himself to turn around, back into reality, and once again rested his, now clammy, hand on his son's shoulder. Draco inhaled deeply, trying to clear his mind of all the memories attempting to escape from the back of his mind where he had locked them years ago. Releasing the lungful of air with forceful frustration, Draco guided Scorpius gently onto the train, his mind still swimming with images old and new.
Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and into her sitting room. The house was still and quiet; Hugo had gone home with Ginny and Lily to keep the youngest Potter company as it was the first time either had been alone without any siblings to play with. They had all been enjoying some lunch together at Harry and Ginny's house, which was once belonged to Harry's parents and had been rebuilt after the war in Godric's Hollow, when an owl arrived from the Ministry requesting Harry and Ron's assistance in an inter-departmental meeting. That left Hermione to return home alone to the now empty house that she shared with Ron and their children.
Moving from room to room, Hermione quickly busied herself with chores purposely not giving herself a chance to think. She returned books to their shelves, fluffed the cushions and made the children's beds. Then she sorted through the mornings post, organised some paperwork, before collecting the dirty laundry and set about loading it into her Muggle washing machine, pausing for a brief moment as she brought one of Ron's work robes to her nose and smelled a strange perfume. The scent wasn't hers or Ginny's, in fact she didn't recognise it at all. Must be someone from the office, she thought with a shrug. Hermione then cleaned the house from top to bottom, before finally stopping for a break.
After wiping the light wooden kitchen worktop one last time with a cloth, Hermione took a large blue mug from the cupboard next to the sink and, pouring hot water from the tip of her wand, she made herself a cup of tea.
Sitting at the kitchen table with her mug, Hermione pulled the copy of the Daily Profit, which had been delivered that morning, towards her. Picking up a juicy green apple from the fruit basket in the centre of the pine table and taking a bite, she began idly scanning through the pages of the newspaper.
As Hermione finished her apple, she banished the core into the bin using her wand and closed the paper, realising that she could not remember a single article she had read. Folding the paper and placing her now empty mug into the sink Hermione found herself at a complete loss; no matter how hard she tried to distract herself, her mind kept dragging her back to the moment on the platform when her eyes met Draco's for the first time in eleven years.
Practically throwing herself onto the beige settee in the sitting room and hugging a small terracotta coloured cushion to her chest, Hermione gave into the inevitable.
She unleashed the torrent of memories from a hidden corner of her mind that she had long hoped had disappeared. And with that, her mind transported her back thirteen years previous…….