DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary: Two worlds, two different times, two different people and yet they are connected through a journal. Love extends beyond time to bring two people together in The Black House. SBHG

Beta: Meridith-R.E.M. Thank you!

Introduction

It had been two long years since the tragic death of Sirius Black. The war was now over and done with, though the world was still bleak and fearful. Voldemort's presence may have been gone, but his essence still lingered in the air. Death and misery had become convenient companions to those who remained, both magical and muggle alike, and the hazy fog of suspicion didn't appear as if it would lift any time soon.

But that is not where our story begins. You see, even in the darkest pit of despair, there is still a little light just waiting to escape, a hope for a better tomorrow. Our story begins with two people who know each other in a way and yet, at the same time, don't. Two people, two destinies, two different dreams, but yet, one love. Two very different people at two very different times learn that with just a tiny spark of hope, anything is possible.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is where our story begins….

Chapter 1

Hermione awoke to the shrill buzzer of her doorbell in the early afternoon on June eighteenth. Her face was smashed to a book and papers were strewn about her. Her eyes were bloodshot from the lack of a proper goodnight's sleep (which she had been lacking for a good three weeks now) and, if the pounding in her head was anything to go by, she'd say she was beginning to suffer from fatigue.

The buzzer alerted her to the impatience of her visitor. "Alright, I'm coming!" she called out as she rose to go answer the door. She felt like hell, was grumpy as hell, and she'd bet twenty galleons that she looked like hell as well. "Just a minute."

She patted her pocket just to make sure her wand was still there. Though Voldemort had met his downfall by the tip of Harry's wand, there was still a good deal of rogue Death Eaters out there that would do anything to get their hands on one of Harry Potter's best friends, namely her since she was a girl and they considered her feeble and weak.

"Who is it?"

The voice that drifted back to her from the other side sounded just as drained and tired as she was, maybe even more so. "It's Harry."

She quickly undid all the locks and latches, pulling back the door to allow him entrance. "Hey Harry, sorry it took me so long to answer. I just got into some stuff and sort of zoned out." Not technically a lie since she had been researching quite a bit when she had zoned out and promptly fell asleep.

"It's okay, Hermione," was all he said as he walked past her into the small room in her cheap flat which she had converted into a study. Books, parchment, quills, and everything else imaginable was scattered about the place, making her normally untidy place seem practically unliveable. "So, what's the current project?"

"Potions," she answered with a sigh though a small, tired smile began to form at her mouth. "I'm trying to develop a formula for a potion that would enable us to regain our energy faster. That way, we won't be drained whenever we go into a battle. I think I may also be onto a potion that will help us find the rogue Death Eaters faster. You see, it will be drawn to the Dark Mark on their arm and we'll be able to sense where they are and…"

"Hermione, you need to slow down and take a rest. You're wearing yourself out."

"This coming from the boy who stays out almost all night and day looking for rogue Death Eaters." She gave him an impatient look. "I'm trying to help, Harry, and since you and Ron are determined to keep me behind when you go off on your little adventures, this is the only way I can."

Harry placed his hand on her arm. "Hermione, please understand why we want you to stay behind. There are a lot of people out there who would love to hurt you just to get to me. I'm sorry but I just can't take the risk of you being kidnapped, even if it means keeping you under lock and key."

She smirked. "I do have a wand, Harry."

He smiled at her as he moved some papers around on the couch, making enough room for both of them to sit. As he did so, he said softly, "Hermione, I'm going away for a while."

She numbly sat down on the couch and felt him sitting down beside of her. She knew he went out often but he had never sounded so serious about it before. "You're…what? For how long? Where?"

Ron and I are going to New Zealand. We've received some reports of some shady activities occurring there and we're going to go and check it out. We don't know how long exactly we'll be down there but…"

"But it will probably be for a while," she said with a sad sigh. "Fine, I understand. You want me to stay here and sit tight like a good little girl."

Harry looked a bit uncomfortable as he said, "Well, not exactly. You see, I was sort of hoping that you'd move into the Black House."

"But Harry, this is my home," she pointed out. "As messy as it is, it is my home. The Black House is your home; Sirius left it to you."

He lifted a hand and ran it through his messy hair. She knew this was a nervous habit of his and instantly wondered what could have him so uptight. "Look," he started as he drew a sheet of paper from his pocket, "this is the deed to the Black House. I've taken the liberty of going ahead and switching it over to your name. I want you to have it."

"I don't understand…"

He picked up her hands. "Hermione, I can't live in that house. Yes, I have accepted his death but I can't…not yet anyways. It's just too soon."

"But one day you might want to live there. Why give it to me?" She rose and walked over to the window which offered her a 'lovely' view of downtown London. "I think you're acting a bit prematurely, Harry."

He came to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder as he drew her back against him. "Accept the house, please. Do this for me, Hermione. I need to keep the house close but I can't own it."

She bit her lower lip and turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his own waist and hugging him tightly. "Fine, Harry," she muttered into his chest, "I'll take the damn house if it will make you happy."

Her head moved against his chest as he chuckled mellifluously. "Oh Hermione, I am going to miss you while I'm gone." She felt his hands on her shoulders and him pushing her away just enough to look down at her. He pressed a kiss to her brow. "Promise to keep in touch while I'm gone."

She nodded. "I will. You just remember to keep yourself safe and to come back."

When Harry left her fifteen minutes later, he had accomplished to draw a promise out of her that she would transfer all of her stuff by nightfall. She knew she had only agreed to this to soothe his conscience about her safety but she couldn't help but wonder if something bigger might just come out of this….

XoXoX

That's it, the last box. She flung herself down on the couch and merely laid there, staring at the ceiling. The Order had long since departed this place as their Headquarters and it was slowly sinking back into its decrepit state. Some serious cleaning was needed.

"Alright, time to get off my lazy arse and so some cleaning," she told herself. She stood up and looked around at the sorry state of just the sitting room. "Ugh, maybe tomorrow," she corrected before promptly falling back onto the couch and closing her eyes for the first good night's sleep she had in years.

Fifteen hours later, Hermione finally stirred on the couch, blinking her eyes open slowly. She glanced at her wristwatch, a present from her late parents, and jumped up in a frenzy. She had never slept like that before…

"Alright," she paused, her hand on her forehead, "what was I going to do? Oh right… clean." She looked around. "Oh Merlin, where do I even start?"

Right, she thought, first sign of loneliness- talking to yourself. She picked up some dusters and set them to work. She had neither the time nor the workers to do it all by hand. So, why her magical staff were cleaning, she began to shift through the stuff.

She was surprised by the stuff she found. It was apparent by the stuff she stumbled across that the Black family was deeper into the Dark Arts than originally thought. Some of the relics she found were very interesting. She stored them away for future observation. They could prove beneficial to some of her studies…

She made her way up the stairs, past her old rooms. She had placed a charm on that room during the summer before her fifth year that would keep the room clean. She passed Harry and Ron's old room, she would tackle that later. She bypassed Fred and George's old room, she didn't even want to step foot in there.

She came upon a room that she had never been in before. She didn't know who it belonged to, she had never seen it before so she had never questioned it. She opened the door slowly and peeked in.

Dreary.

The room looked completely inhabitable. Black cloths draped over the windows. The bed sat in the darkest corner of the room. The whole room just reminded her of one of those long, forgotten haunted house rooms. Actually, the room would have looked perfect in the Shrieking Shack.

She slowly walked into the room, fingering the dusty surfaces. She looked around the room, there was so little in it. It looked as if someone had suddenly picked up all of their stuff and fled. However, she knew that there was always something forgotten in haste.

The desk caught her eye, probably because it was the only item in the room that did not look haggard and worn. She slowly held out a hand and instantly felt the spells on the desk- anti-aging, shield, and protection.

"Alright, let's see what you hide."

She pulled out the chair and took a seat. She felt the warmth of the spells wrap around her. She pulled open the drawers slowly, shifting through the contents. Nothing of great importance or interest caught her eye.

She was about to give up the search when she pulled out the last drawer and stumbled across a midnight blue journal with stars etched across the front. They were moving slowly as if orbit. She was mystically transfixed by the book, feeling spookily drawn to it.

She laid the book on the desk and carefully scanned it for any charms that would hurt her. She found none which made her a little nervous. This house was a source of the Dark Arts and yet this book drew her to it. She had to open it.

The book was completely blank. There was nothing on the front page, nor on the second, or third, fourth, and so on and so forth. She leaned back in the chair and studied the book. Why would anyone keep a book such as this one and not write in it?

It was utterly bizarre.

Maybe it was like Lord Voldemort's journal, she thought, and she needed to write in it before it would reveal its secret. However, before she even had the chance to touch the quill to the paper, she pricked the tip of her finger on the sharp point.

"Ow!" she gasped as the quill dropped from her hand and a trickle of blood ran down her finger. She looked around for a rag to wipe the blood from her hand, but didn't make it in time. Before she could stop it, the blood dripped from her fingers and onto the page.

"Damn it," she muttered, quickly wrapping a cloth around her finger. She went to the bathroom and stuck her finger under the faucet. She found a little balm in the cabinet and an adhesive strip to put on the small cut. She cursed under her breath as she stomped back to the room.

The book was no longer empty.

On the first page, which she could of sworn was just blank, was now filled with words. She stared at the book, trying to will herself to go over and read the words but found she couldn't move.

"Oh, suck it up Hermione," she snapped at herself. "It is just a book, not a bloody dementor. It can't possibly suck your soul…can it?"

Slowly and surely, she walked over to it, her hands outstretched towards it. She picked it up and held it close to her face, the words burning into her memory.

My dearest and most faithful friend,

Though you cannot write back or even understand a bloody word I depict upon this page, I feel that it is with the utmost importance that I keep you well informed as to what is occurring within these walls alone. The world is in chaos, but my family is in ruins. My mother storms about the place acting as if she were Merlin himself, deciding the fate I shall meet. But it is no secret that I am a disappointment. She knows of my true feelings and had made it known on more than one occasion that my rebellion would not be tolerated if I decide to take it one step farther. If she thinks that I am going to lie down like a wounded dog then she is sadly mistaken. I will break free from this prison, from her. I know a place where I may seek refuge, but for how long, I am not sure.

Journal, if I hadn't of stumbled upon you that day in Diagon Alley, I should never have had anyone to spill my secrets to. It is imperative that my words remain hidden for now, at least until I find my escape. One day I will read over these words and remember with a good mind that you were my refuge.

She is coming…

Hermione stared at the page. There was no telling how old the book was or who the book had belonged to. She slowly turned to the next page where more writing appeared.

It has been over a year since I had you in my possession. That arse that is unfortunately my brother took you, I know, but we are separated now. He has chosen his path and I have chosen mine. The darkness called to him and he surrendered.

Sometimes, I've learned, the darkness is just too much until one is fully consumed by its power. I fear one day that I may be drawn down that path just by the blood that flows through me. You are the only one I share my fears with. I know how I would ever bear it if one of my friends learned of my secrets, my fears. For now, I must keep you hidden and safe. Some secrets should remain on the pages of a book.

I fear now for the world. It is obvious that the current attacks will continue until we spiral into a never-ending vortex of death and destruction. I fear the future if only for the state I may find it in. only by a strike of luck will this veil lift and the light shine through. I wish for this light.

I have become poetic somewhere along the way. My friends would laugh if they saw this, but I will never show them. No, to the world I shall be carefree and jovial. But to you, my dear friend, it is to you that I will be frank and discuss my concerns for I have many. The world, as we know it, is slowly falling apart and I fear that I cannot stop it. Am I the only one in this world that feels this helpless?

Hermione turned the page, but it was blank. She didn't know what this meant but something odd was happening. So, with a faint heart and a heavy mind, Hermione picked up the quill and prepared to write.

XoXoX

A boy of seventeen set down his quill and lightly blew on the ink. The words only appeared to him so he had no worry of someone discovering his secrets. His brother had tried that once but had failed miserably. This time, however, he wouldn't be so clumsy as to let his journal fall into the wrong hands.

His mind drifted to the current situation. Voldemort was growing stronger with each passing day as his numbers grew. The Aurors were doing their best but, unfortunately, their best wasn't good enough. The Light was falling to the Dark and that would be very, very bad indeed.

He began to rise from his seat but stopped. Something was wrong. The book was glowing faintly as black ink started to fill up the next empty page. Slowly, he sat forwards and began to read.

No, you are not the only one to feel helpless. In fact, as I write I find that my two best friends have left me here as they go off to battle our enemies. They treat me as if I am fragile but we all know that I can hold my own. I am helpless, though, in the fact that my fear holds me back. I have seen people die around me and I can't help but wonder, am I next? I am scared of death.

I don't expect you to write back. Hell, I don't even know how I made your words to appear, but I thought that since this journal was your release that maybe it could be mind as well. I only hope that this war ends soon before too many are lost forever. The world is still falling apart, my dear stranger, and it shows no sign of stopping.

The words ended there. The boy sat back and observed the journal. How was it possible that someone was reading and writing in his journal when it was sitting right there in front of him? It was impossible.

Quickly, he picked his quill back up and dipped it into the ink pot, preparing to write.

I don't know who you are nor do I care. Wait, that is a lie. Who are you and how have you charmed my journal? How are you writing to me in my journal when it is sitting right here in front of me. I demand answers, you fiend. State who you are and what business you have in reading my personal thoughts.

Fiend? Why, I have never been called such and I refuse to allow you to call me that. I return the question to you, sir, if you are even that- how are you reading what I am writing when I, in fact, have the journal before me? I believe you are the one who lies, not I. Surely you should state who you are and what wicked tricks you hope to accomplish by doing this.

I assure you most ardently that I am a sir and one especially not prone to lying…except for when the situation calls for it, of course. However, this situation, stranger, is not one I would consider lying about. This journal is a sanctuary for my private thoughts and feelings and you are invading my privacy. So, if you will kindly stop what you are diong then I will retain from scouring the land for you.

XoXoX

Hermione read the threat aloud to herself…twice. Was he for real? She didn't know who he was or what he was playing at but she didn't have to put up with it. With a smirk, she dipped her quill into the ink and touched it to the parchment one last time before promptly shutting the book.

Twenty years before hand, the young wizard watched as the words 'Screw you' appeared on the page and laughed. At least this mysterious person had some fight in them.

A/N: This story will only be 5 chapters long. Short and sweet, though it does jump some time between chapters.

Much Love,

MiZZ AmAyA