A/N: Ok, DracozMudblood, I dedicate this story to you, since no one else reads it, lol. So, if youve any requests/concerns/comments/or anything else. Please drop me a line, lol.

Chapter Two- Forbidden Books

Moonlight illuminated through the windows of the massive library in Hogwarts.The book shelves stood tall and regal. It was unusually silent, as there were no hushed whispers, no rustling papers. It was late, nearly three in the morning, yet Hermione Granger was sitting silently at a table in the back, reading. She was not reading any book, oh no, but she had managed to get a hold of some books from the restricted section. The plan she has created took only a week to make up, and it was perfectly executed. She had snuck in using Harry's invisibility cloak, and had quickly cast silencing spells so no one would hear anything that would arouse suspicion.

Currently, she was engrossed in a particular book about poisonous potions. The moonlight made the perfect light to read, yet her eyes were beginning to droop, and the words on the page were so tiny she could hardly read them in her fatigued state. She put the thick volume down, rubbing her tired eyes. She checked her watch and sighed. 'Best be getting back' she thought. She slowly stood, her back and knees cracking as she did so. She looked around and then turned back to her books. One by one she put them into her bag. She looked at each book carefully. The potions book was a grayish white, the next one a softer green, a dark blue one, and lastly, a black thin one. She had no idea why she picked up the last one. 'I'll study it tomorrow. Perhaps its a diary of some sort!' she thought.

She slung her bag on her shoulder and picked up the cloak. Donning it, she looked around once to make sure she had no left anything. After she was sure everything was secure, she made her way out the door and into the large halls of Hogwarts. It was silent, save for the loud snoring of some portraits. She was swiftly making her way up to the Head Tower. Alas, yes, Hermione Granger had made Head Girl. She shared the tower, however, with the loathsome, evil, little cockroach, Draco Malfoy. Yet, he hardly even spoke to her. He hardly spoke to anyone anymore. The ending of the war had changed him greatly. He was very reserved and quiet. Hermione figured it was due to the death of his mother, but she couldn't say for sure.

In just a few minutes she found herself outside the Head's portrait. It was a tiny girl of about six years of age. She was dressed in a medival style dress, and she was very polite.Currently, the little girl was mumbling in her sleep, yet the portrait would open, Hermione had checked to make sure it would. She whispered the password, 'silence is golden', and slipped inside. The fire which had been burning happily in the hearth when she left was now diminished to a few redish coals, and the moon was shining brightly still through the tall windows of the balcony they had. Hermione slipped off the cloak, and quietly dropped her bag on the floor.

Extremely exhausted, Hermione slipped off her shoes, and made her way to her bedroom. It was decorated silver and gold, with red and green accents. It did compliment well, but the interhouse unity it was to represent was still not present. A large four poster bed was dead center in the room, to the left, an ornate desk, and to the right, an elegant mirror. It was a circle, it's frame was like ivy, twisting and turning around it. Hermione had always liked it. It had a touch of mystery that Hermione couldn't quite trace.

Without changing, Hermione lowered herself onto the bed and underneath the covers. Before she knew it, her eyes were shut, and she was drifting off into dream land. Her dreams however, were not of the peaceful sort. They were filled with images of a small girl, about thirteen, who had mousy features and brown hair. She was crying, yet when Hermione tried to comfort her, her eyes turned black and oozed blood. The tiny girl only said one thing...

"Malfoy."

"Malfoy!" Hermione screamed the next morning. He was going to be late if he didn't get up in time. Heads were expected to arrive to classes they had together, both on time and in each others company. It was part of Professor Dumnbledore's plan for interhous unity.It wasn't working so far, as both the Gryffindors and the Slytherins were at each others throats more than ever this year, even with the end of the war.

Hermione screamed again, and suddenly his door slammed open. Malfoy stumbled out, his clothes rumpled, and a scowl plastered on his face. He mumbled something, and quickly grabbed his bag. Both students had to run to make it to Potions on time. They just made it, but for their ignorance, were forced to sit next to each other.

"Mudblood, I hate this as much as you do. So, don't act like this is all my fault!" he hissed.

"You have no idea how much I loathe this, you inconsiderate, craven, idiotic, mindless loser. So, be quiet!" she hissed back.

The fighting like this continued all day, even into supper and in the Head's Common Room after. It wasn't until around midnight that either of them got any peace and quiet. Malfoy went off to bed, and Hermione ran up to her room to grab a book from her bag. She rummaged around, and finally decided on the black one. For some reason, it intriged her.

"I wonder what subject it's on." she said softly to herself. But it was no text book. Hermione soon found out that it was a diary.

Selena Destrine

Year 2

"This is my Diary! Keep out!"

It read. Hermione flipped open the first page, and neat tidy handwriting filled the pages. Hermione soon found out she was a student, a Gryffindor. She read of how she was teased, and of the girls friends, and family. On the last pages, however, the girl's thoughts began to get dark, and quite scary. She talked of suicide, and horrid death scenes she had seen in dreams.

On the last page, right in the middle, the handwriting just stopped. There was nothing more. No ink marks, no splatters. Nothing. Hermione growled. It was just getting good! Hermione looked at her watch, and laid the book down onto her bedside table. She slid under her covers, and the same night, had once again, dreamt of the little girl with bleeding eyes and pale skin.