DISCLAIMER: I have to admit to the fact that I do not own Harry Potter OR "The Lake House" because if I didn't then someone could sue me and then I would be in loads of trouble and owe a lot more money than I do now...

A/N: As someone so graciously pointed out in a review, this story has a similar plot line to that of "The Lake House". Ya know, two people in two different times falling in love. HOWEVER, big however there, I have never seen the movie so that is as far as that goes. But you get the picture...

Chapter 2

Tap. Tap.

It just didn't make any sense. It wasn't possible for one thing and not plausible for another. It just couldn't be explained…not by any reasonable explanation at least.

Tap. Tap.

How does someone explain how they can have a journal, be writing in it, while another person, seemingly miles away, claimed to have the same journal and was writing in it as well? She just didn't understand…

Tap. Tap.

Dark Magic. Of course it had to be dark magic, what else could explain it? But that would mean that the guy would have to have been in cohorts with Voldemort. Yes, that had to be the explanation….right?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

But then why had he sounded so sad when he had talked of the world falling apart because of the darkness? Surely someone connected with Voldemort would rejoice in that happening. So, how could she explain that…?

"I swear to Merlin, Hermione, that if that damn muggle contraption hit's the table one more time, I will hex you so bad that Harry will feel horrible for leaving you in my 'tender' care."

Hermione looked up at her redheaded friend. Ginny was quite famous for her fiery temper and she really didn't want to push her luck at the moment. "Sorry, Ginny, just mulling over some things."

Ginny sighed and sat her mug on the coffee table before taking a seat beside of Hermione on the couch. "Alright, spill. The only time you beat your furniture with a pen is when something is bother you, usually something big. So, let's hear it. Oh, and don't even think about lying to me, Hermione. I grew up with six boys, I can tell when someone is lying to me."

Hermione groaned softly. She might as well tell her; Ginny would drag it out of her sooner or later anyways. So, she carefully recounted the previous night's events and waited for the advice she knew would be coming.

Instead she got, "Did you ask him the date?"

She blinked. What the bloody hell was Ginny talking about? Secretly, she wondered whether her friend had one too many this morning. "Pardon?"

"Did you ask him the date?" Ginny repeated, only this time more slowly as if she was speaking to a child. Her blue eyes were sparkling with speculation and something else… something Hermione couldn't identify.

"Sorry, no," she snapped. "Must of forgotten that somewhere between getting called a fiend and being asked to kindly remove my devilish self from the journal. I'll do that tonight."

Ginny didn't even seem phased by Hermione's tongue-lashing. She merely rose from her seat and walked to the door. Just before leaving, though, she said, "You do that."

Hermione sat there staring after her. Sometimes people just made no sense at all. One things was sure, she had a lot of thinking about what she was going to do tonight.

XoXoX

The same boy from the previous night's adventure was, in fact, sitting in a similar sitting room thinking the exact same thing…only he was technically thinking it before her with him being in the past and all but that is neither here nor there as neither of our characters knows that little titbit of information…yet.

"Food! I need food!"

The boy turned to look at the source of all the commotion only to find his best friend of seven years sitting in the kitchen complaining. He smiled faintly, some things never changed.

"How come its always when I'm hungry that we mysteriously seem to be out of food?" he continued on. "It's like a bloody curse!"

"Maybe if you would stop eating enough food to feed an army, we'd have enough to get by on until one of us has a change to get to the store."

The teen looked at him incredulously. "You're complaining about my eating habits when you are the one who won the food eating contest five years in a row?"

He smirked. "Would have been seven, too, if they would have allowed me to enter my first two years but, alas, they didn't. Still broke the record. Anyways, that's beside the point. I wasn't the one who ate everything this time."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Look, are we going to get some food or not?"

"No, not now. I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"Thinking."

"That's a new one."

"Shut up, you idiot."

"Sorry, mutt, can't." He flung himself down on the couch and turned his hazel eyes to his friend. "What are you thinking about? Anything I can help with?"

The boy looked over at his friend, a sad look on his face. "No, not really. This is something I need to take care of myself. Anyways, aren't you supposed to meet your girlfriend in fifteen minutes?"

"Oh Merlin, I forgot! Sorry, got to run!" He made it to the door and sighed, turning around to face his friend once more. "Look, Pads, whatever is bothering you, don't let it get to you."

He nodded. "Thanks, Prongs. Now go meet Lily before she kills you."

XoXoX

Look, I know you don't trust me and quite frankly, I'm not sure that I trust you all that well myself. However, I must ask you a question: What year is it? I know that may seem bizarre but please do us both a favour and just answer it.

You are a strange one, you know that? I have a right mind just to throw this journal away and forget all about you. I will answer your question, though I really don't know why I'm bothering. The year is 1978. Happy now?

Actually, no, I am very confused at the moment. I think I have figured out our situation though, well, part of it at least…

Really? And what expert conclusion have you arrived at ol' masterful one?

You don't have to be so surfcasting about it. I am just trying to help us both out and you're being an ass about it.

Excuse me if I don't like the fact that you're reading my journal.

Minor details. Anyway, I should point out that in my time it is not your journal. It is technically my journal as it is located in my house.

Your time? What the bloody hell are you talking about. The year is 1978 and the journal is in my possession in my house…well, flat.

Actually, the year is 1998 and, as I said, the journal is in my possession at the moment. I believe we have created some sort of time vortex and we are connected through the journal. I don't know how or why this happened, but I do believe it has happened for a reason.

Why should I trust you? For all I know, you could be working for the Dark side and this could all be a trap.

Right back at you.

What real proof can you offer that would make me want to trust you?

Honestly, none, but I don't know whether I can trust you either. Call it instinct or insanity, but I believe there is a reason we are able to communicate through this journal. There has to be some logical explanation for it all.

Let's go with insanity. Fine, I'll go along with your 'conclusion'…for now. But let's get this straight- you might have been able to break into my journal, but if I find out that this is a trap, I will never rest until you pay for your deceit. Who are you anyways? You know more about me than I do about you.

Actually, I don't know all that much about you. However, I think it is safe to say that neither trusts the other enough yet to give our real first names so just let it be known that I am a woman and I share the same opinions as you on the war. Maybe one day we will be able to trust each other but for now, I think it is best if we only reveal small details. Sorry, I have to go. I am running late for a meeting. Goodbye.

XoXoX

Back so soon? It's only been what? Four hours?

And I suppose you've been waiting patiently by the journal for all of those four hours, right?

Well…not all fours hours, no. Wait, why am I explaining myself to you? Anyways, did you have fun at your 'meeting'? What took you so long?

Though I don't know why I should explain myself to you, but I went out with a friend after the meeting for a cup of tea and a bite to eat. We started chatting about this and that and simply lost track of time.

Call me trusting, but I'm going to hazard a guess and say you were out with a girl friend and not a guy. But that doesn't matter. You should feel very bad about leaving me here all by my lonesome. My roommate went out with his girlfriend and my other friends are…otherwise detained. I've had no source of entertainment.

So I'm just a source of entertainment to you? Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special. I am sorry, though, that you were left alone. If it wasn't for this friend, I think that I would go insane. My two best friends hardly come around anymore. They're too busy off fighting to even take notice of me, but I still miss them. I just wish that I understood them better.

If they're your friend then they shouldn't be avoiding you. Friends stick together no matter what. That's just one of those little facts in life. They should realize how much you need them and do everything in their power to be there for you.

Others need them more than me, I understand that. It's just…

It's hard to accept sometimes, but don't you see you shouldn't have to accept it. They are your friends and should be there to hear how you feel instead of making you think that the only person you can tell is some stranger in a journal.

Hermione stared at his words. He was absolutely right. No matter how much the world needed them, they should still be there for her, to help her, to understand her.

Hey? Are you still there? I'm sorry if I offended you in any way.

No, you haven't offended me. You've just made me open my eyes to a truth that I was too afraid to accept. Look, it's almost one in the morning. I really need to get some rest. Thank you though, for everything.

You're welcome. Goodnight.

XoXoX

Hermione watched as the two owls flew out of sight. She had kept her promise and had wrote to Harry while thinking of the words her stranger had wrote. The other owl was carrying a package- one extremely large box packed with Chocolate frogs for Ron. He would care less for a letter, she knew.

It had been three days since she had last opened the journal. Three days since she had spilt her feelings to a complete and unknown person from the past. Three days since she had had a good night's sleep.

Ginny was the only person who knew about the journal and she was planning on keeping it that way. She knew that the instant someone found out, they would want to cart it off somewhere to have it tested. She didn't want to lose this mysterious connection…not yet.

She could hear a gentle and yet persistent hum at night and knew that he was trying to contact her. Though the journal sat motionless on the desk, she could feel the gentle pull of it. She fought it off every night though. She needed time to think.

But he needed her. She could feel his need to talk to her, his need for her. He needed to know she was there for him and she could not deny him any longer.

Slowly she rose from her seat by the window and made the familiar trek to the bedroom. She had not touched a single thing in the room except for the star covered journal. She felt that the room was his and she shouldn't touch his possessions…well, anymore of them.

Sure enough, the journal was humming quite happily as she reached for it, the sheer power of it encasing her. She opened it up slowly to where his hurried script spread across the page.

Where are you? I do wish that you'd come back. I apologize again if I have offended you. I am sincerely sorry. I cannot apologize enough.

Are you hurt? I laid in my bed last night, tossing and turning, while imagining different scenarios, each with you ending up getting severely hurt. I don't even know what you look like or your name and yet here I am, worrying myself sick over your absence. We don't even exist in the same time for Merlin's sake! I do hope my fascination with you ends soon.

Please, I beg you as I have never begged before, talk to me. Tell me of your life, your worries, your pain. Please, trust me as I am beginning to trust you. Just…come back. Please.

Hermione stared at the words, letting them wash over her. She then picked up her discarded quill and uncapped her bottle of ink.

No, she didn't know who he was, but she trusted him.

I'm here and it is I who must apologize. After our last discussion, my mind has been occupied. I have never been so candid with anyone before, friend or stranger, and yet I find myself wanting to spill my innermost thoughts and secrets to you night after night. Please understand why I needed just a little time to think.

I assure you, my lady, that I do understand. Let us forget the apologies and speak openly with one another. Tell me, have you heard from your friends? What of the current situation?

My friends? No, I have not heard from them yet. They are unsure as to how long they will be where they are and if they'll even be able to write me. They warned me as much before they even left. I dare say that they won't be back for a while.

As for the situation, well, it grows worse everyday. The battles grow more fierce; more lives are lost with each passing day, something we were sure was over. I doubt it will ever really be as it was before.

He is dead, but the fear he instilled turns everyone into fools. That is what we are battling now…an impossible battle that will most likely end in our defeat.

That is what your friends are fighting? Common people or fear?

Doesn't matter, there is no peach either way. The situation is the same here only everyone is in a frenzy. He dominates everyone's thoughts and uses that knowledge to instil fear. Few are willing to boldly speak out against him and even fewer will fight. It's a growing epidemic.

I don't know how this world will ever get better. But I have faith. You see, you have told me yourself that he will die. Though the world will still be in a panic, at least he will be gone. That is a start for change. That, my dear lady, will be the point when light can finally fill in the shadows.

Hermione drew in a deep breath as she thought over the words before her. She ran her left hand through her messy hair while her right hand, the one holding the quill, reached back out towards the next blank space on the page.

We can only hope.

!A/N!

In case ya'll didn't figure it out, the Italics is Sirius and the Bold Italics is Hermione. If you want to know why it's going to take me a bit to update, refer to my A/N in the latest chapter of CY...

So, without further ado, review! lol... I rhymed.

Much love,

MiZZ AmAyA