This was originally written for the July dmhgchallenge on LiveJournal. I'm pretty chuffed about the fact that I won this time.
The 1st of September
-oOo-
She is aware of where he stands on the platform, to the nearest inch. Astoria clings to his arm; Hermione wonders what they talk about. Probably their children, like she and Ron. Once a year they dispatch their respective offspring to repeat their parents' mistakes – nothing much has changed in a generation. It's Hermione's fault: had she dared to trust Draco, they would have been much more than tired copies of their teenage selves. Even Ron.
Hermione permits herself one lingering look before returning to her busy life, where envying Astoria Malfoy is as ludicrous as Ron's professional Quidditch ambitions.