Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR owns everything.

Chapter One – The Diary of Hermione Granger

Sighing Hermione closed the door to her quarters. The Christmas feast had been plenty and good, but with only some students and most of the staff attending. Even though the threat of Voldemort was stronger than ever, most students had decided to go home over the holidays. They wanted to spend as much time with their families as possible.

I wish I still had a family to come home to. But now my home is here, at Hogwarts. Harry and Ron, they are everything I have now.

Hermione sighed again and lay down on her bed, stretching her already tired limbs. Scanning her room, she noticed the presents she had opened earlier that day lying on her desk. Among them was also the diary.

"I will keep my vow." she murmured and a short accio later the booklet was in her hands. Taking a quill from her nightstand she snuggled up in her bed. Shortly contemplating the current whirl of emotions inside her, she started to write.

Dear Diary,
I've never been homesick before. I had no reason to be. I knew that in July at the end of term I would see my parents again. They would come to pick me up at King's Cross Station and take me home. Then they would ask me to tell them everything. About my adventures, my friends, my studies. Mum would make tea and Dad would tell me stories about his patients. And now there won't be anyone waiting for me anywhere any more.
Why does it still hurt so much? After six months. Why won't time heal me?
Sometimes I just can't find any sense in studying for my future any more, if my future should only contain hurt and losses. But then I want to learn, because I want to be ready to fight. I want revenge. But I know I'm not even strong enough to take revenge. And that's what frightens and angers me at the same time.
I don't want to feel sad. I don't want to be weak. But that's what I am.

Then a teardrop hit the paper. Hermione didn't even bother to sign her entry. She shoved the diary from her bed and started to cry. She hadn't cried for a very long time. Not since she had found out about her parents' death. And she knew it was long overdue.

Half an hour later she had cried herself to sleep.

The next few nights she continued to first write down her thoughts and then cry until she was asleep. Her feeling of loss hadn't lessened because of this, but she had finally found a way to sort out her feelings.

Isn't it ironic, that I'm more comfortable confiding my feelings to a book than to Harry or Ron, she thought.

She was currently sitting in the Common Room, skimming through a faded copy of 'Attack or be attacked', a Defence Against the Dark Arts tome she had lent from the library.

Harry and Ron would certainly listen to me, if I asked them to, but it simply feels better to bother an inanimate object with my problems than them. Merlin knows they have problems of their own.

Returning her attention to the book, Hermione didn't notice the worried looks Harry and Ron sent her way. The two boys were sitting at the nearby table, playing wizard's chess, and from time to time they checked if she was alright. Ron had been close to ask if Hermione was fine when she had stared into her book, not really looking at the pages she had turned. But then she had visibly snapped from her thoughts and her eyes had refocused on the pages. Furrowing his brows Ron shot a questioning look at Harry, who just shrugged and made his move.

Then New Year's Eve arrived and with it a new wave of sadness that crashed with full force onto Hermione. As soon as possible Hermione fled from the Great Hall were everyone was happily laughing and cheering, waiting for the New Year to begin. Burying herself in her bed she took her diary – she had started to refer to it as her 'soul book' – from her nightstand and started to write.

At the other end of the castle a very irritated Severus Snape opened his Christmas present, only to find something written in it, that hadn't been there when he had unpacked it nearly a week ago. Fleeing the 'party' right after dessert had been served, he had sat down in his favourite chair in front of the fireplace and – out of boredom – had picked up the small red booklet. Maybe he could use it as a notebook, he had mused when he had opened the first page, just to be stopped in his musings.

Dear Diary? I've never been... What in Merlin's name is this? If this is a joke it is a very bad one, indeed.

Snorting, he read on, realizing fast, that these were genuine diary entries from some girl, it seemed, there at Hogwarts. But who should have taken his diary to write their thoughts in it and then returning it back to his quarters?

"Pathetic." he said for at least the tenth time when he reached the sixth page where suddenly word after word of a new entry started to appear.

That's what it is. he thought. Somewhere at Hogwarts some pathetic little brat writes her feelings into her precious diary and everything she has written appears in my booklet. Interesting, indeed.

With a smirk on his face he continued reading.

Dear Diary,
Today is New Year's Eve. Normally I would now owl my parents and wish them a Happy New Year. I feel bad leaving the feast so soon, but if I had stayed I would have just ruined the evening for everyone. They shouldn't have to be worried for me. I

Grabbing his quill from the table, Snape snorted and wrote beneath the last line that had appeared: Oh, stop now, will you? Maybe if the girl's entries were showing in his booklet, maybe his 'entries' would appear in her diary too.

Gasping Hermione Granger stared at the words that had just appeared on the page of her diary. The tears that had already threatened to fall, again, instantly vanished and suddenly anger flared inside Hermione. What was this? Another diary, that had once belonged to Tom Riddle? Ginny had told her about the diary and how it had worked, answering her questions and even talking to her. Glaring at the rude question she wrote:

Who are you?

A few seconds later she got an answer.

Why should I tell you? You should have introduced you, before you had started to write your silly little thoughts inside my diary.

Hermione gulped for air.

You are Tom Riddle, aren't you?

A pause.

Not even remotely correct.

So who are you?

Let's say, that you may or may not know me. And as you don't seem fit to introduce yourself properly, I won't seem compelled to introduce myself in any way.

Hermione's anger suddenly flared.

Whoever you are, it doesn't matter if I introduced myself properly, or not, because YOU were the one commenting rudely on MY THOUGHTS.

You call your wallowing in self-pity thinking?

How DARE you?!

I think I'll leave you to your 'thoughts', now.

Fuming, Hermione shut the diary. Her sadness had vanished completely, but now her whole mind was filled with anger. She would find out who that person was, that had made her so livid. No one was allowed to talk to her like that. No one.

Snape put his quill and the red booklet down on the table. This was quite amusing, he thought. Muttering "Nox." he went into his bedroom, wondering who could be that little brat he had enjoyed insulting.