The platform was alive with movement—people coming and going, voices overlapping, children running excitedly. First-years buzzed with excitement, while older students moved with practiced ease, books in hand. Families crowded together, offering last-minute words of advice, hugs, and well wishes before departure.

And, as in every year, the Weasl-eys were there—always together. George stood among them, the twins already in their robes while he held Eden. Molly fussed over them, instructing them to behave, while the rest of the family laughed and chatted, sharing a moment of nostalgia.

Then, the atmosphere shifted. A silence settled over them, subtle yet heavy. George noticed it immediately and followed his mother’s gaze.

Natasha.

She hadn’t seen them. Or perhaps she had but chose to act as if they weren’t there. She wasn’t here—not with them. She was there, beside him. Mal-foy. Her husband. Their son. A boy poised, elegant, the perfect image of his father.

A dull ache settled in George’s chest. Everything about that picture was the opposite of what he had known. He glanced at the twins beside him, their small faces etched with confusion. They didn't understand.

Why was Mum with another man? With another boy? And not with us?

But even if Natasha wanted to come to them, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. No one knew that Mrs. Mal-foy had once loved a Weas-ley. That she had children with him. And she intended to keep it that way.

George exhaled quietly, forcing a soft smile as he placed a gentle hand on one of the twins' heads.

"Hey… you should be getting on the train now. You don’t want it to leave, do you? Mum’s busy with a friend. Go before you run out of seats… and don’t separate."

That was enough. The children, easily swayed by excitement, brightened and ran toward the train, their confusion forgotten.

George, however, remained where he was, his family beside him, his gaze fixed in the same direction. Watching. Waiting. Knowing that as soon as Natasha noticed them, she would turn away.