They are in their 7th year of Hogwarts, after the war, towards the end of the school year in April. DH compliant except Hermione and Ron were never an item.

Reason Number Nine

Hermione bent the corners of the pages for what felt like the hundredth time that night. It didn't matter if she wanted to destroy it. It didn't matter if she didn't want to listen to what it quite literally was saying.

There was no way to defeat this problem, except by doing the one thing she didn't want to do.

"Hermione?" Ron said, gently trying to take the book from her hands.

Hermione gripped it tighter and tucked it under her arm.

"What's going on with you?" He asked. "You haven't let go of that book in the past few weeks. It's like you haven't even been in the same room with us. It's like Ginny in our second year all over again."

"It's nothing, Ron," she said. "It's just a notebook."

It was a lie.

The book was undamaged. It shouldn't have been though. It had been read from start to finish over eight times.

"Harry," he called across the room. "She's been acting like a loon, yeah?"

Harry shook his head. "Not at all. Leave her alone."

"I'm tired," she said, standing up from her chair. "I'll see you two in the morning."

"Bet it's all that reading you've been doing!" Hermione was already up the stairs when he called after her, louder this time. "Must be hard to read when there's no words!"

He couldn't see them. Only a few people could, and she was one of the unlucky ones that was able. If he knew what was in the pages, he wouldn't be teasing her.

Her dorm was empty. As it should be, since almost none of the students came back for the "8th" year. There were only a few people, and even they were dwindling out, opting for careers instead of finishing their education.

And it was times like these that she was grateful.

She sat on her bed and lit the room bright as day with the flick of her wand.

She hadn't had a proper night's sleep in over 3 months, and the past two weeks had been even worse. Two weeks without sleep wasn't anything compared to what he had gone through.

The chapters had simple titles.

Numbers and names.

And she knew every. single. name.

The chapters were to be read in order. Each chapter contained an explanation.

The entirety of the book was the key to the question everyone had been asking.

Why did Draco Malfoy kill himself?

Three weeks prior:

Hermione was late for class. It was a chilly outside, and most of the students were avoiding the open air of the courtyard, even if it would spare them time. She had forgotten her coat, and in her haste to make it out of the cold, almost missed her former professor.

"Miss Granger?" Sibil Trelawney said, her voice as soft as a whisper. She had a book in her hand stretched as far away from her body as she could get it. Her hands were unsteady, and it looked like she was about to toss the book at her.

"Professor?" Hermione didn't reach for the book, and barely glanced over it before looking away. She wasn't in Divination this year, as she wasn't required to. She couldn't have possibly forgotten it.

There were tears brimming over her already reddened eyes. The glasses were only highlighting what looked to be a plea.

"Did you want me to give this to one of your students?" she asked, taking the book in hopes to keep the teacher from crying in front of her.

She shook her head and let go of the book. "This is from Draco."

Hermione didn't move. Couldn't move. There were a million questions running through her head. She didn't get to ask even one, though. Before she even blinked, her former professor dropped her head and fled from scene.

She reminded herself that class started in five minutes, but her heart was taking her straight to the library.

The library was warm that day, but she felt chills down to her bones. The back corner was always empty, and very seldom visited by staff. In-depth wizarding law books weren't popular research. A student would have to be masochist to read anything where she was.

The binding was plain black leather and gave no indication to its contents.

She flipped to the first page.

'Hello, Hermione'

The words weren't merely written. His voice echoed in her head as she read.

The book fell sharply to the ground. She stared at the book for what seemed like an eternity. Was it dark magic? Some sort of mind control? Sibil sure looked out of her mind earlier, but that wasn't much to go off of.

The book- No. The diary, so eerily familiar to Tom Riddle's own memory. There was no mistaking it. Draco Malfoy had created a Horcrux

If it was left on the floor, it would certainly be picked up by someone in the future. The book had a pull to it, something that was begging for it to be read. Hermione wanted to run away from it. The horror that Draco could have…

But instead, she picked it up and pulled the cover back once more.

'Hello again, Hermione.'

'Try not to drop me again. I have quite a few important things to tell you.'

Hermione brought out her quill and ink. She pressed the ink into the paper, and it faded just as quickly as it was written.

'I'm sorry, Hermione. Unfortunately, this won't be an open discussion.'

She placed the feather to the side and read on.

'I know you're bright enough to know what this is. First, I want to ease your mind. I didn't murder just anyone to make this happen. There was a process… Back and forth… Back and forth… I fought with myself on whether this was the way to go about telling my story. It took me a month before realizing this was the only way.

'It may seem monstrous for me to even contemplate doing something so extreme. But the person I murdered to create this was none other than myself. There is no other version of me left in this world. Not my body. Nor are there any other parts of my wicked soul. You're holding what's left of the miserable Draco Malfoy.

'You, like the people before you, will have an opportunity to make sense of my death, and how you played a part. Each of you has your own free will… Any one of the people before you were permitted to destroy this book, without any physical harm to themselves. However, if any of them had chosen this route, the contents would have been made public by an entrusted third party. You also have this right. The choice is, of course, yours.

You're probably wondering how you could have possibly played a part in this.

The answer will be in your chapter.

The names were appearing on the page, one by one, line by line. Draco's clear and crisp voice reading them off without emotion. Chapters to the diary, and all the people who led to his death.

Astoria Greengrass

Cormac McLaggen

Pansy Parkinson

Dennis Creevey

Padma Patil

Harry Potter

Theodore Knott

Professor Trelawney

Hermione Granger

The last name. Her name. She forgot to breathe. It was impossible. She shouldn't be on that list. She wouldn't have done anything to hurt him.

'Hermione,-"

"Hermione!" Harry called, he was running towards her, but stopped short, starring at the black book in her hand.

Harry cautiously approached the desk and sat down across from her at the table.

"How long have you known? That this?"

"A week," he replied.

"Why are we in here?"

"We can't talk about it- not until you've read it."

"How could you not have told me? Why didn't you destroy it?" she asked, jerking the book in front of him. "This is a bloody Horcrux! You, better than anyone, should have known-"

"I did!" he said. "I've known since I opened it what it was!"

"Then why-"

"Because! Because there's stuff in there… It's true. It's all things we've done. None of them are good. Some of them were the darkest parts of our lives… and for them to get out? We'd all be liable for his death."

"Are you-" she started, taking a moment to breathe. "Are you saying you're responsible?"

"I- I don't know. I think, maybe, it wasn't just me... It was all of us."

"Who is going to tell if we destroy it? Who is the third party?"

Harry balled his fists and drew back from the table. "I don't know. Whoever it is, we know that it's not one of us."

She ran her fingers over the binding, the only connection Draco had to the mortal world was in the palm of her hand, diminished to a short book.

She had the power to destroy it, as did the people that came before her. Yet, no one had. She knew most of them didn't care for Draco while he was alive. Why would they all have continued turning the pages if they hadn't done something?

Why would anyone want to continue reading if they weren't at fault somehow?

Curiosity?

But even Harry wouldn't have been so careless as to entertain a Horcrux for mere curiosity. Which meant all those people played a part. So had Harry. And so had she.

A/N: This will be the shortest chapter. I had this idea last night, and I couldn't get it out of my head. Sorry if you're waiting for me to finish AFU. I wrote the last chapter already for it, just need to edit. Thank you for reading!