the platform
The platform looked completely different. Granted, she hadn't been there since her sixth year, but it still felt both awkwardly familiar and strange. She noticed first years with their parents nervously observing the steam engine; old friends embracing one another. That made her gut twist and with a deep breath, Hermione pulled her Australian-sun tanned shoulders back and straightened up. A few months wasn't too long. Not as though she'd been gone for years. Even if it had felt like it.
She could have looked for that jet black hair, which would probably be accompanied by pointing and staring from those around it, but instead she scanned the crowed for a tall head of red. Hermione wanted to find that more than anything. Hermione was wearing an uncharacteristic sun dress and cardigan that she kept smoothing down as she looked for the familiar hair, both worried about how she looked and to keep her hands dry.
Where were they? Had they decided not to come back for another year? She should have written first and told them she'd meet them at the platform. Hermione bit her lip and kept looking around, trying to find one of the three people she'd missed the most.
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