Blink and you’re dead.

Pansy Parkinson, had always been one to disregard the rule book, handed to her by many. Those included her parents, other family members, and Hogwarts.
Hogwarts especially, and she loved to dodge around the rules, the curfews- even the current one- was no exception. Pansy had decided on the fact, that she was a pureblood that throughout the war she didn’t have to worry about being captured. They had wanted the purebloods on their side and therefore they hadn’t wanted to risk placing them on the opposite side. For her, pureblood meant safe. Nothing could happen to her.

She had just come from a meeting with Blaise Zabini, in the room of requirement. She had no fears to do with the teachers’ wrath, it was very unlikely that she’d run into any of them.
However, if she was caught it would mean that some interesting conversations would have to be had, and that was another thrill which she got from this. Draco Malfoy was her boyfriend, but she had found that he had become distant in the past two months, preoccupied with other things. He hadn’t even given her an insight as so why the Headmistresses, along with all of the other professors, were so determined to have the students back in their common rooms at 8pm.
She was known within the Slytherin Common room, as a silver serpent, and she knew how to keep her name. Defying none other than Draco Malfoy was a feat worth celebrating, and this, had been one of those nights.

The candles flickered in the holders, and Pansy felt a cold wind blow around her. She turned, and their stood a statue of an angel. Their eyes, covered, as though they were weeping. “A weeping angel, just how ironic can this world become?” She asked herself aloud. She laughed and turned her head slightly before looking back.

Suddenly, the angel was far closer. Pansy was imminently frightened. Her bottom lip trembled... and then she blinked.

“OW!” She cried out in pain as she landed in a cool corridor.

“Who goes there?”

“Who are you?” Pansy asked in confusion.

“I asked first.”

“My name is Pansy Parkinson, now your turn.”


“Yes, now who are you?” She demanded snappily wanting her answer.

“That’s impossible... you can’t be a Parkinson.”

“Well I am the daughter of Lawrence and Trinity Parkinson.”

“I am Lawrence Parkinson, so I repeat, who are you?”

Pansy gasped in shock as the young man stepped into the light. “Dad?”

“This isn’t possible”

“I know what you mean. We have to see the Headmaster now.” Now that she was walking alongside her father she could see that in fact, he wasn’t even a young man but a mere boy.

“Parkinson, what are you doing out of your dormitory?” McGonagall asked striding towards the two students. “Who is this?”

“Professor I found her wandering the corridors. We were just on our way to see the Headmaster.”


“Because she says that she is my daughter.”

“That is ridiculous.”

“That’s what I said Professor.2

“Look, Professor, I am Pansy Parkinson. I am the daughter of Lawrence and Trinity Parkinson. They were married on the 20th May 1989.”

“But this is only the year of 1977, this isn’t possible.”

“Professor, we need to see the headmaster.”

“You are correct though, you can return to your common room Lawrence.” Professor McGonagall ordered, her tone sharpening as it looked that Lawrence was about to argue with her.


“Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy yous must wakes!” Two separate house elves shook the two head students respectively, they both woke with a start, Draco on the other hand, just put his head back on the pillow and falling asleep. Hermione woke up completely.

“Miss Hermione master Malfoy won’t wake up.” a second house elf said to her. Wrapping her dressing gown around her.

“Oh for goodness sake Malfoy wake up!”

“Shudup!” He yelled through his pillow.


“Granger? What on earth are you doing in my room? Unless of course you’ve succumbed to my natural charm and finally given in that you actually would like to take me up on the offer I made you at the beginning of term.”

“Christ Malfoy you have such high opinions of yourself. Not to mention I can’t even recall what your offer was.”

“Of course not I cannot think of any woman who hasn’t remembered an offer to share my bed.”

“You’re what we call a man-whore Malfoy.”

“Whatever Granger as if you haven’t thought about it.”

“McGonagall wants us.”

“Tell her to go away.”

“Malfoy I think someone’s gone missing.”

“Shit, do you know who?”

“No which is why we need to go.”

“Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy how nice of you to finally join us.”

“Sorry Professors, Malfoy here had a little bit of trouble waking up.”

“Who has gone missing?” Draco asked immediately fearing the worst.

“Miss Parkinson.”

“What?!” Draco exclaimed Hermione guided him to a free chair where he sat there completely frozen in shock.

“I believe that she wasn’t sent back as far in time as Katrina Nix had been.”

“How have you come to that conclusion professor?”

“Because I came across Miss Parkinson during the time of your parents Mr Malfoy.”

“But that’s completely impossible, I mean her parents were at the school when my were. That means she’d have met her own parents.”

“Yes she did but only when they were in their second year.”

“I have to see them.”

“Malfoy you could completely disrupt the course of time you’re not allowed to do that!” Hermione protested.

“I love her Granger I’m not about to let her slip through my fingers!”

“She was cheating on you Malfoy!”

“STOP LYING!” Malfoy shouted at her only inches away from her face.

“I’m not lying if you talk to anyone of the boys in your house they’ll tell you that she slept with them. She used you Malfoy, the only things which appealed to her about you was your name and other ‘attributes’ as she so delicately put it!”

“MISS GRANGER ENOUGH!” McGonagall yelled over their bickering, silence ensued.

“Sorry professor.” Hermione murmured under her breath.

“There’s no way in which I can get Miss Parkinson back?” Draco asked, McGonagall looked at the young man though she didn’t like Hermione’s tactics she knew that her student was correct, Malfoy was in fact better off without her. “Well?” Malfoy demanded.

“No there is no way.”

“Why not, you said that she’s only in my parent’s era!”

“Yes that was when she was a 7th year.”

“And...” Draco prompted

“She fell to the dark side Draco, she fell with him as well.” Hermione told him gently her knowledge of the first and second war was almost second to none apart from that of Professor McGonagall.

“What?” Draco asked in disbelief.

“She became a death eater.”

“Her parents weren’t death eaters why did she fall?” Draco continued a few stray tears running down his face.

“We don’t know Draco, we just don’t know.” Hermione said trying to soothe him with her words.

“We have to make sure that all students from now on follow the curfews.” McGonagall said the heads of houses around the head students. they nodded gravely and left a notice went up in every common room within 20minutes of them leaving her office. Hermione and Draco on the other hand went back to their common room, Hermione leading him up to his own room.

“Don’t go, just don’t go.” He told her as she practically tucked him into his bed.

“Alright.” She whispered untying her dressing gown and climbing under the duvet next to him. What Draco hadn’t noticed was what she was wearing though he would soon enough.

“Hmmm....” Hermione hummed appreciatively at Ron’s warm, soft hand running along from her waist, drawing meaningless but soothing patterns on her skin, right down to her thigh.

“Good morning.” Someone else’s voice replied to her. Her eyes shot wide open, and she practically bolted from the bed. Too much green, way too much silver for her liking was decorating the room.


“Granger! Jesus is that what you wear every night?”

“Oh!” Hermione squeaked reaching for her dressing gown and pulling it around her tightly. Why on earth had she chosen to wear these pyjamas last night?

“Damn it Granger you really should stop wearing so unflattering pieces of clothing.”

“That should be the least of your worries! Especially seeing as your slut has vanished!” Hermione’s eyes went wide knowing she’d over stepped the invisible barriers between them. “Shit, I’m sorry Draco.”

“Get out of my sight Granger!”

“I’m sorry.”

“OUT!” He bellowed, Hermione turned and ran from the room, she’d overstepped the mark, way overstepped the mark but once things had been done there was no turning back.

Instead of trying for one last time to apologize she went and continued with her morning routine, trying to forget his hands on her, she scrubbed where his fingers had made a trail from her waist to her thigh trying to forget how she’d enjoyed the touch. Hermione shook her head, morally perhaps she could justify it as being due to the fact she was still asleep when he had done that but she knew that she’d been fully conscious that it wasn’t Ron’s hands and that she’d revelled in the touch from the smoother un-calloused hand.

The Weeping Angels still don't belong to me- not that I would want them to, they're pretty scary- no, they belong to the brilliant writer Steve Moffat, and his works for Dr. Who.
Harry Potter, also, unfortunately doesn't belong to me either, instead that honour goes to JK. Rowling.

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