Harry Potter and The Time Keeper

Everyone Has A Malfoy

Remember to always, vote and leave a comment I would love to hear your opinion and of course follow my brother, joshyt43 he helped devolp and even write some of the chapters and he's an awesome writer please check out his books!- If you want more Harry Potter, give me a follow because I update frequently and write multiple books!-thanks for reading-Morgan x

Hermione had nothing but him on her mind. Over and over again she punished herself with every good thing he had ever done after the war, every smile, every glance to her. She thought of it and now she could barely breath she had so much guilt. She felt their was no clean cold air in the world and it was all suffocating. But she was Hermione Granger, strong Hermione Granger. Boys was not something she crumbled about, especially Malfoy. There that name again, Malfoy.

It was stupid the whole thing was stupid and she hated it. She hated how she let herself get emotional in front of him, she hated how she went after him, She hated how he was crying when she found him, She hated especially how much she was affected by him.

Never in her dreams- correction - never in her nightmares, did she think she'd be in her dorm trying to gather herself over Draco Malfoy. It was her fault, she done it, she crossed the line, she called him the one thing he hated, the one thing he tried everyday to prove not to be. She thought of the feast, how even Harry shut up, how the whole hall shut up, how his father could do nothing but watch as his son, strong Draco Malfoy, whom everyone feared and teased and bullied after the war, how people (she'd seen) mocked and spat at him, how he could hide all his grey in his eyes, how he could so perfectly cover it all with a single sneer and turn away, but then he didn't. And as the flecks of the mask of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy's son, Blood Purest, Death eater flutter into the dark depths of Hogwart's graves.. the real Draco Malfoy appeared. The innocent of war. So forced and pushed he'd forgotten how to think and feel for himself. The last man to see such a crack in the stele was Albus Dumbledore, watching a boy sob with fury and frustration. Thinking ..

Why!, why does this have to be the way? why am I here? what has made me become the man I am? or better yet.. the beast I have become.

She knew now, she knew with every fibre of her Gryffindor being that it was wrong. But that stupid pitiful pride that came with bravery. That one selective trait that caused people to loose so much. She too, was a child of war. But she wanted to be a solider, did Draco?.

That glorious mind of hers kept her awake till the early hours. Till the sun disappeared and came back again. It was light- birds cawed and sang through out it as she watched the darkness be removed in her room and soon the orange hue bathed the floor with warmth of a new day. She raised from her bed, eyes aching for the sleep that she never had, her stomach slightly churning for the exhaustion but she still arose. 5am struck the clock in the common room when she entered. She walked to the windows seeing the light water of condensation, the blurry vision of Hagrid letting Fang out for him morning gallop on the grounds. She smiled and turned on her way back through out the room, her clothes were changed from last night and her mountain hair was tied on the top of her head. The fire's were mostly ash and everything seemed lifeless without the children making mess and noise.

She walked through the maze of hallways. The portraits either already awake or nearly, yawning and stretching their painted selves. It was but too quiet as her shoes clicked on the floor and light slowly flooding into the castle once again. Every room was empty other than the dormitories. It spooked her however when faint music was heard. She recognised the jazz and retro sound, it must be Time.

As she turned the corner entering the ghost like room of Defence Against The Dark Arts. She was treated by the old record player, 'The one with the trumpet looking thing on top' Was how she remembered Mr Weasley describe it. Though Hermione was surprised to not find her Professor with the famous Pipe she carried but with a long cigarette holder, a trail of smoke following her as she walked and sat on the chair next to it.