Little Memories

Draco drew in a deep breath of air as he gripped Scorpius’ hand and led him through the barrier toward that majestic red steam engine that had always signified the beginning of a new school year. It seemed like such a long time since Draco had been on the steam engine and an even longer time to go back to the school the train led to. His beautiful wife, Astoria Greengrass, was on the other side of Scorpius, looking down at her boy with a smile and holding his other hand. Draco had been content with marrying her and he did love her, but…she wasn’t the woman who held the sway over his heart.

“It hasn’t changed a bit,” Draco said softly and Scorpius looked up at him. The boy didn’t say anything, but noticed that there was something very far off in his father’s eyes as he looked up at the train. Astoria noticed this as well and let out a sharp sigh. This would happen to Draco occasionally, whenever they passed by something that reminded him of his time in school.

“Right, well, Scorpius needs to get on the train soon then,” she said and Draco shook his head, as if clearing his mind from the memories that had flooded him.

“Yes, of course,” Draco said, his voice and tone distracted and far away.

Soon enough, the small family was standing beside the snorting and hissing train, feeling the heat from the steam rushing past them. Draco looked up just about the time that he noticed a particular bespectacled, dark haired man passing by him. He had three children with him that favored both him and the red-haired Ginny Weasley, whom he had taken as his wife. Draco inclined his head to him first and the man returned the action. Though they were once enemies, the years they had spent apart dulled the rivalry between the two of them.

“I’m ready to say goodbye now,” Scorpius snapped testily, glancing up between his mother and father. Draco let out a chuckle and knelt before his son looking over his face.

“Alright, I guess it’s time for you to go to Hogwarts then,” he said, placing his hands on his shoulders. “You stay out-”

“Out of trouble and try to get put in Slytherin, yeah, yeah,” Scorpius repeated in an annoyed sort of voice, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Don’t roll your eyes at your father, Scorpius,” Astoria scolded, looking down at her son and pressing her lips together in a sharp, thin line. Draco let out a heavy sigh through his nose and looked up at Scorpius, sharing a look with his son. They both knew how the mum and wife got sometimes. Draco was just about to tell Scorpius something else about school but a myriad of whispers suddenly broke out around them and a chill raced up Draco’s spine.

“Who is that?”

“That’s the potion’s master. She’s never shown her face.”

“I wonder what she’s hiding underneath that veil.”

The whispers and stares reminded Draco of that certain woman he would have laid his life down for, if she had not died before him. Subconsciously, he lifted a hand and rubbed at his sternum, just over where his heart was. He righted himself and he felt Scorpius hide slightly behind him.

“Who is that?” Astoria whispered to him and Draco followed his eyes to a woman that was making her way slowly through the crowds of people. She was shrouded in black fabric that moved around her like liquid, the robes fitting close to her nearly-skeletal form until it hit her waist. She wore a wide-brimmed, black hat that had a thick, gauzy fabric shielding her face and hair from sight. Her hands were covered in thick leather gloves and a nice, black, leather potion’s case was at her side. She intrigued Draco, whoever she was and why she was keeping her identity a secret. The snap of a cane hitting the ground cut through the whispers and Draco suddenly noticed that the woman was walking with a strong limp on the right side of her body.

And if that wasn’t strange enough, there were two, oddly alike blonde children behind her. They, a boy and girl, looked like they were around nineteen, but Draco knew they must have been the same age. The girl had long, wavy, bright blonde hair and pixie-like features. She was tall and lean, not too unlike a girl that Draco once knew. The boy was skinny and a bit lanky, not too unlike Draco when he was the boy’s age. Both of them had striking blue eyes of the most curious shade and they had nearly everyone’s undivided attention. They were dressed quite formally and looked as though they were Professors or some sort of auxiliary staff to Hogwarts.

“They’re her kids?”

“What a curious bunch.”

The woman continued on but the boy and girl had stopped and were now looking at Draco. The boy had a scowl on his features that could rival even Draco’s and the girl’s nose was wrinkled up a bit. They were leaning in close to one another and talking quietly. Draco could see their lips moving rapidly as they talked to one another, keeping their eyes directly on Draco and there was something about the way they stared at him that frightened Draco. Suddenly, he was snapped away by his wife’s gentle hand on his arm.

“Is everything okay, Draco?” Astoria whispered in his ear and he slowly nodded, looking over at her.

“Aislinn,” a raspy and airy voice called from beside the train. “Jackson,” the voice called again and Draco looked over at the blonde-haired children that were once looking at him, who were now focused over at the woman in black. They shot one more look to Draco before turning and walking away from him and toward the woman in black. Draco ran through his mind where the name Jackson sounded familiar and it rested on one boy: Jackson Harper. He’d died during the Battle and he had been close friends with Charlotte. The two blonde children stopped beside the blonde woman for a moment and Draco could see them speaking frantically with the woman. She merely held up a black gloved hand and quieted them. With one last look to Draco, the two stopped beside the woman and exchanged words before they climbed onto the train, the boy clutching the woman’s black potion’s kit. They were too old to attend Hogwarts, so they must have worked there. The woman in black, however, remained on the outside of the train and Draco could feel her eyes on him through the veil of fabric she wore.

“Professor Goyle!” A voice exclaimed and Draco felt rooted to the spot in shock. There must have been another Goyle, someone that was unrelated to the Goyle’s that Draco knew. He could feel Astoria’s hand grip a bit tighter around his arm, yet he didn’t look over at her. He watched as the woman in black turned to a tall strawberry blonde girl and took a few steps toward them, trying to listening into their conversation without intruding completely.

“Hello Victoire Weasley,” the woman in black replied and it seemed the initial shock of seeing the covered woman had worn off as the tall child walked over to the Potion’s master. “Are you excited to be starting your seventh year?” She asked in that raspy voice. There was something there. Something that Draco definitely knew from before. He just refused to believe he was hearing that voice.

“Yes,” the tall girl replied with a beaming smile, “and are the other Goyle’s ready too? I do hope that Jackson knows he‘s going to have his hands full with the gaggle of Weasley‘s and the single Potter that are coming to school this term. And then Aislinn‘s going to be completely out of her stock of Skele-grow by the end of the year by all of them. I should know. I’m their cousin.” The woman merely nodded, her hat bobbing with the movement.

“Of course, they’re ready. I‘ve prepared them all holiday,” the woman replied before she pointed a warning finger at Victoire. “I’m more worried about you being ready for Potion’s class this year. It won’t be the cakewalk it was last year.” Victoire tilted her head back and let out a loud laugh before shaking her head.

“Okay, Professor, I’m ready,” she said before walking off with a group of her friends. The woman in black merely stood there for a moment, watching after the girl before Draco could feel her eyes back on him again. Slowly, the woman lifted her free hand and snapped her fingers as much as she could in her leather gloves. Draco stared at her in confusion before he noticed that the hustle and bustle of Platform 9 ¾ had come to a complete halt. He glanced up to the clock and noticed that the second hand had stopped ticking. Draco immediately turned back to the woman in black and noticed that her hand was at the bottom of the veil covering her face.

Achingly slowly, she pulled the veil up and Draco’s jaw dropped. He was staring at the face of a woman he thought died in that Battle nineteen years ago. Time and time again, he imagined her swarmed with fiendfyre. Charlotte’s hair was as blonde and as radiant as he remembered it being, with intermittent grey streaks in it, and her eyes were ever as piercing. There were small wrinkles around the corners of her mouth and the corners of her eyes, but she still looked so young to Draco. After the initial shock of seeing her wore off, it was then he noticed how torn up the right side of her face looked. The skin looked misshapen and rough. The corner of her mouth, that precious clover-shaped mouth, pulled down slightly in an eternal frown as if the skin hadn‘t healed properly. Though, he noticed, she was smiling as much as she could at him. She gave him a small nod, her eyes glittering with tears. She reached up and pulled the veil back over her face before she lifted her fingers and snapped her fingers one more.

The world around Draco sprung into action and he merely stood there, watching as the woman he once loved, the woman he did love, turned without saying a word to him and entered the red train that was due to depart for Hogwarts at any moment. Draco merely stood there, drawing in shaky breaths of air in and letting out equally shaking breaths of air. Tears had managed to trickle down his cheeks as it all came crashing down on him. Charlotte was alive. Charlotte had been alive this entire time.

When Draco was beginning a relationship with his wife, Charlotte was healing from burns; however way she had managed to survive the fire. When Draco was asking Astoria to marry him, Charlotte was raising two children on her own. This came as a second punch to Draco’s stomach. Those children weren’t just come from Charlotte and then it hit him. They were around the age where it would have been plausible that an absurd idea were true. When Draco saw Charlotte last, where he made love to her one last time in an abandoned room in Hogwarts, it all added up. They weren’t just Charlotte’s children, they were their beautiful children. And they looked so much like the both of them it was a wonder no one became suspicious before.

Though, Charlotte had made it clear by never seeking Draco out and not saying a word to him. She had made it thus far alone and she would continue on without him. She knew that Draco had a life apart from her and she didn’t want to complicate things. It was clear that she still felt for Draco, since she had allowed him to see her when she wouldn’t let anyone else. All Draco could hope is that she was at least happy with her life and that she would devote a bit of time to think of him as he did so often think of her and what could have been.

He could feel a slight pressure on his arm and he slowly tore his eyes away from the spot where Charlotte once stood to look at his wife. She was staring up at him with a furrowed brow, worry for him shining in her eyes. They were a murky brown color, nothing that could ever compare to Charlotte’s dazzling blues.

“Draco,” she asked softly, lifting her other hand to brush away the tears that had fallen down his face, “who was that?” Draco took in a deep breath of air before sniffling slightly. He slowly looked back at the spot where Charlotte once stood, pursing his lips for a moment against the sobs that threatened to rip from his throat. He took a moment to compose himself, not wanting to let Astoria know he was as shaken up as he was.

“Just a memory,” he breathed and the Hogwarts Express slowly began to pull out of the station.