I remember someone telling me : Man does not simply exist, but always decides what his existence will be, what he will become in the next moment.
Well, my parents had just made some of the biggest decisions of their life, and still had more to make.
My father had to decide whether to ensure his son's safety, or protect himself.
My mother had to decide what to do, how to be safe.
Jacob held his mothers hand tight, she was walking so fast he tripped over his own feet, but she refused to stop for long, pulling him up and moving on.
They had been walking for hours, down the Muggle-filled streets, when suddenly they stopped, and turned left, into a bar.
Jacob would have been confused, had he not been here before. He waved at Tom the barman, but his mother dragged him out the back before he could open his mouth, or even turn to see if Tom had acknowledged him. She finally let his small hand free, and pulled her wand out, tapping the bricks in the wall in a particular order.
Jacob sighed qiuetly to himself, looking down at himself as the brick wall opened up. It was uninteresting to him. He inspected his clothing critically; he was in his school uniform, white cotton shirt, emerald shorts, and shiny black shoes. Any other morning, it would have been spotless, but not today. He had dirty, grazed knees and muddy shoes from falling.
His mother would have scolded him any other morning, but she didn't seem to notice, so he kept quiet.
The tall, blonde man stepped off the train, onto the platform, and looked around swiftly. He hitched his jacket higher, held his suitcase tight and walked into the bustling crowd. The people in the crowd were half asleep, early morning commuters on their way to work or school, or perhaps an appointment. Too caught up in their own lives to notice anybody else, too busy to realise that the blonde man spun quickly, and disappeared into thin air.
'Draco. I am surprised that you showed.' the usually high, cold voice was low, and croaky from years of silence.
'Of course, master. Nothing would have gotten in my way.'
'Not even your halfblood son? Or your mudblood wife?'
Hermione blinked lazily, the room coming into view as she woke completely. She glanced over her shoulder at the small body snoozing peacefully behind her. She sighed sadly, and gently eased herself out of the sheets, onto her feet.
A quick look at the door showed that Tom had brought up breakfast already. She picked up the food laden tray, and set it on the bed, warming the coffee with a flick of her wand and picking up the newspaper.
She took a scalding mouthful of coffee the same moment she read the headlines, and instantly spat it out over herself, gasping in shock.
The headlines read 'MASS BREAKOUT AT AZKABAN - HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED FEARED RETURNED'