It's 5:47 am; I'm Draco Clarence Malfoy; it's the second week of school; fifth year; I'm a school perfect. My alarm clock is stunningly useless. For days now I've been waking an hour before it is set. My biological clock is telling me that I should wake and watch the sunrise. Without much thought I throw the light blankets off of my body and lay unmoving below my canopied four poster bed. A few minutes pass and now I know it is time for the sun. Pulling up a pair of black uniform trousers that was lying on the back of the chair next to my bed over my legs and finding a ribbed guinea tee, I dressed and walked out of my bedroom and into the perfect common room.

The balcony that extends from the glass double doors on the East side of the castle was an exquisite location for viewing the sunrise. I stepped outside barefoot and lay down on a sun chair. Laying my head back with my eyes closed in the darkness waiting for the first signs of light. Complete silence penetrated my ears in a slight hum of nothingness. I opened my eyes to occupy myself with the few stars left in the sky, instead I saw a silhouette of a figure sitting up on the slightly slanted roof of the perfect tower. The figure was sitting with one leg underneath the other raised and leaned on with the arms. The graceful position was unmoving for the first moments I was witnessing and then the arm moved from it's leaned position. A quill was picked up from the nothing the figure was sitting on.

I found how the figure had climbed up on to the roof, through means of a chair and the balcony railing. I soon found myself sitting next to the figure that took more shape as my eyes adjusted to the light natural darkness. It was Hermione writing a letter. She didn't look up when I sat next to her she just simply recognized my presence and it made for a comfortable silence between us. Since the train I had not spoken to her, no one had really. She had distanced herself from everyone, even Harry and Ron couldn't get more than two word answers. The Gryfindore's started up rumors about her, some were out of sympathy, others out of pure menace. Some thought she had grown to accustom to being the beautiful smart Gryfindore and that it had finally gone to her head. They also said she had used beauty charms to alter her looks. But those whom were close to her knew otherwise. Even I knew that was not the situation. Hermione was smart, she was beautiful, and she had a confidence that awed most, that even shined through now. But she most definitely was not self indulged or arrogant.

People usually don't recognize how much it takes in order to be a complete loner. Something happened to her over the summer that made her crawl into the little world she lived in before Harry and Ron befriended her in first year.

"Who are you writing to?" I asked softly, it was as if the silence was not to be disturbed by loud talk, no matter if there was anyone around to hear or not. She had written the letter on school parchment with a quill, but had folded and shoved it in a muggle envelope. I heard her whisper a spell that was foreign to me and the letter disappeared from her hands.

"My father." She said equally as soft back. Ah that explains it, she couldn't send an owl to a muggle residence. She shifted her position so her legs were out in front of her and leaned back on her elbows. I had already been lying as such and saw the slight wince she gave as her left arm held her weight. I still didn't know the extensiveness of her bruising because of her well-placed clothing, but it seemed as if although they were fading she still felt the full pain.

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon giving a soft pink orange glow to the grounds below. We watched nearly holding our breath as not to disturb anything in this perfect moment. The light made it's way up and found the lake and made it sparkle with every tiny movement. I noticed Hermione with a little smile on her smooth face. Her body was highlighted with the sun's luminescence and what skin was showing gleamed. She was so beautiful.

"No matter what disasters strike, no matter how many people die or fall ill, natures goes on." She whispered into the warming air breeze.

"Uncaring." I answered with remembrance of those mornings after the beatings flooding into my mind. Oh how I hated the world, everything seemed to continue and pass me up. I was too broken to participate.

"No." She replied to me, finally falling into the gaze I had on her. "Days come to bring us hope. We survived yet another task and have the scars to prove it."

Author's note. I've been slightly worried and depressed lately. It is personal and I will not bore you with it, that is all in my live journal. My mood seems to be reflected in my writing. I hope you enjoy.