19 Years (HP - Drarry)

Chapter 1: Platform 9 3/4

Friday, September 1, 2017

"He's here."

Harry hadn't realized he'd breathed the words aloud until Ginny's elbow buried itself in his ribs.

"Harry!" she hissed, "at least wait until your son is on the train before you start ogling Malfoy."

Harry winced, rubbing his side. Ginny's elbows seemed only to have grown sharper, over the past 19 years, and she never hesitated to use them. On him, mostly. Harry sighed. A quick glance at Ginny's pinched expression was enough to convince him that he'd best do as she said. He fidgeted from foot to foot, folding and unfolding a scrap of paper he'd dug out of his pocket, and tried to pay attention to Al's rambling. Ginny, bless her, had inherited Molly's penchant for warm, effusive greetings and leave-takings, so his abstraction wasn't immediately obvious. He mustered a half-smile for Al, a bit of hair-mussing, and that was enough affection for the eleven-year-old, who'd already suffered through his mother's embraces.

"Bye Mum, Dad!" he yelled, waving, as he darted toward the train. James had long-since run off with his friends. Harry sighed, remembering his own eagerness to be aboard, and patted Ginny awkwardly on the back when he caught her surreptitiously wiping away tears.

"He's so young, yet," she sighed.

Harry snorted. "No more than we were. Where'd Lil get to?" He peered around anxiously – the girl had a wild streak and was apt to be knee-deep in trouble whenever he found her.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "We left her with Mum and Dad for the weekend, remember? Honestly, Harry, Malfoy scatters your wits as much now as he ever did."

Harry felt himself flush. "I – it's not – I mean..."

"Oh, go on, then, before he gets away." She punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Gin." He smiled sheepishly at her. "You really are the best."

"And don't you forget it. Go on, now." She shoved him gently forward.

Harry stumbled over a loose cobble, and it took all his concentration to keep from going down. When he was sure of his balance, he looked up, directly into the piercing grey eyes that haunted his half-remembered dreams.

"Malfoy," he breathed, even though there was no way the man could hear him, standing as he was on the other side of the platform. Yet he stood frozen in mid-step, eyes locked with Harry's.

"Oi! Harry!"

"Yeah, Gin?" he called over his shoulder, not daring to turn away. Malfoy would run, if he did – he knew it in his bones. He couldn't let that happen. Not again.

Ginny's voice floated back to him through the cool September fog, exasperated and faintly amused. "It's your turn to pick up Lil. Sunday evening. 6pm. Don't forget this time."

Harry snorted. "That was once," he called back. "Yeah, OK. I'll be there."

His eyes had never wavered, through the exchange, and neither had Malfoy's, though he looked faintly puzzled. Of course, they hadn't stared like this since their Hogwarts days. Since Malfoy and his mother had walked away from the trials, after Harry had spoken on their behalf. They'd walked slowly, arms round one another, heads bowed. Bent, but not broken. Harry wouldn't let them be broken. He didn't know why, then; only that he would do anything in his power to keep Malfoy from breaking.

They'd seen one another in passing, since, of course. Across the room at Ministry functions. Shopping, on Diagon Alley. Quidditch matches. Faces jumping out at one another from magazines and newspapers. But that was the last time they'd looked into one another's eyes. Until now.