She groggily followed a steady stream of students to the Great Hall. She took a seat with the rest of her housemates at the Gryffindor table. Just as she was beginning to select various breakfast items from the variety in front of her, there was the unmistakable hooting of a crowd of owls. An entire menagerie of owls swooped in from the high windows of the hall and landed in front of various students. There were letters, parcels, and editions of the Daily Prophet tied to their legs. Hermione was pleasantly surprised by a plain looking barn owl that landed in front of her, missing her breakfast plate by inches.

She untied the letters from its leg and it took off again, leaving her to read in peace.

The first letter was written in a scrawl that was borderline illegible. She identified this as Harry's letter.

Hermione,

It's nice to hear that Hogwarts is finally quiet. (Must have something to do with me not being there right?). Auror training is difficult. That's why it's taken a while for us to write you back. We're at it from practically sunrise to sunset. I've learned about fifty new jinxes and counter jinxes. I've also managed to scald my hand brewing some shitty locator potion. It'll be worth it, though. It's what we've always wanted to do.

Hope you still find joy in little things like you used to, (like getting great marks and the smell of fresh ink.)

Are the plans for meeting at the Burrow this Christmas still on?

Harry

Hermione couldn't help but feel a rush of admiration for her friend. Her mundane woes were paled in comparison to his struggles. She also couldn't help but feel a little selfish. He was out there training to make a difference. She was still here, focusing on bettering herself. She wasn't helping anyone other than herself.

But you're going to make a difference! she tried to assure herself. Remember? You're going to campaign for the rights of magical creatures!

She still felt a little uneasy and decided to read Ron's letter. It was significantly shorter than Harry's and a lot messier.

Mione,

Pork Chops? I'm jealous. The main thing they serve here is bread, cheese, and some gruel rubbish.

Hope everything is well with school. I'm sure you're bloody fantastic as always.

Miss you,

Ron

She smiled a bit. It was reassuring to see that Ron hadn't changed a bit since his Hogwart's days. The war seemed to have little to no effect on him. He simply woke up the morning after the battle and everything was okay. He hadn't let it eat away at him. He had been wise.

She stuffed the letters into her bag and vowed to write a response as soon as possible. She couldn't help but feel eager for winter vacation. She longed to see her friends again and to gather in the familiarity of the Weasley home.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x

She found herself in the library during a short break in her schedule. She looked through as many books as possible on ghosts and poltergeists, but the selection was disappointing at best. It seemed as if the wizarding world had better things to do than to concern itself with the dead.

She left disappointedly. How is it even possible for a ghost to haunt a book? The thought plagued her throughout the day.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x

That night Hermione found herself hesitating to go to sleep. She had finished her work and was indeed very tired, however a decision needed to be made. Did she really want to continue to galavant in her subconscious with a strange boy who she knew little to nothing about? Was he even real, or was she simply just imagining him?

To have him appear in two dreams on two separate nights? How can I be that good at imaging someone?

She decided that she was going to leave the journal on her bedside table. She had no desire to have any contact with the boy until she knew exactly what she was dealing with.

She climbed into bed, slid the curtains shut, and fell back against her pillows.

She awoke some time later. It was dark and she could feel sleep vaguely weighing down on her. She didn't know why, but she had the urge to have the journal with her. She wanted to read through it. She wanted to flip through its pages. What was most alarming was, she had no idea why. Her body seemed to move without her consent. Her mind was so sluggish that she could barely process what was going on.

She reached through a gap in the curtains and groped for the journal on her bedside table. It seemed to spring into her grasp and she savored the feeling of the worn leather binding against her fingertips. She pulled her hand back and settled down once again. Sleep came almost immediately, but while she was sinking under, she could have sworn that a soft glow was being emitted by the pages of the journal.

Calm down Hermione, she warned herself, you're just really tired. You're probably just dreaming or something.

She yawned and at once everything faded out.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x

"Hermione, run!" she whipped around to see the familiar dark haired boy running toward her.

"Tom? What is it?" her brain was still a little fuzzy but she could process where they were. They were in a corridor on the second floor near the lavatory. Tom was dressed in robes and she could see the green of his tie flashing against the white of his button down shirt.

So he's a Slytherin.

He grabbed her hand and began pulling her. She had no choice but to run after him. "Tom, where are we going?" she asked throwing a glance behind her shoulder. What were they running from? Surely there wasn't anything this dangerous in the castle.

"Hermione!" there was panic in his voice, "Don't look back!"

She faced forward again and they turned a sharp corner. They stopped at a wooden door. Tom fiddled in his pockets for something and Hermione frowned at him. That's when she heard it. It was faint and distant at first, but she could tell that it was getting closer. It sounded like something was dragging on the stone of the hallway. Something large. It was almost like…slithering.

"Tom," she whispered frantically. She could feel herself losing her cool.

At that moment he produced his wand from his pocket, mumbled 'alohamora' and swept her into the classroom and slammed the door behind them. He used a spell to lock the door again. They stood there with their ears pressed against the door. At first it was silent. Then whatever was behind them slithered past the doorway, and it creaked against the weight of the creature.

It's huge! Hermione thought. Her eyes found Tom's in the semi darkness of the abandoned classroom. His were wide with fear and she was sure hers were the same. At last he let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the door frame. He waved his wand and a few stray candles illuminated. The effect hadn't brightened the room much, but at least Hermione could make out his facial features a bit clearer.

"What was that?" she asked. Her voice was shaking.

Tom took a few deep breaths, "That, Hermione, was a basilisk."

Hermione froze. She wasn't sure what to say. She wanted to laugh aloud, to assure him that the basilisk was simply just a myth.

But myths don't chase people down hallways and take up entire corridors.

"You don't believe me?" Tom asked quietly.

"Well, it's hard not to given the," Hermione searched for the word she was looking for, "evidence, that was just presented."

Tom let out a laugh. It was devoid of humor and full of nerves.

"Why's it after you?" Hermione asked. She knew the rumors of the basilisk and the chamber of secrets. However, the rumors said the basilisk hunted muggle borns. Surely, the Slytherin before her was no muggle born.

He scoffed, "You're like the rest of them." Tom stuffed his fists into his pockets and began to wander about the room. Hermione followed. She was confused. "You assume that I'm pureblood because I'm in Slytherin. Just like everyone else." his voice was dark now and Hermione let out an involuntary shiver.

"Blood has always been a secret of mine," he paused in front of a flickering candle. He ran a finger through the flame and it appeared unscathed. He repeated the action a few times while he spoke. "I've been keeping it a secret for a while now. My father, the one who shares my name, was a muggle," he said quietly.

Hermione watched him carefully. She had ignorantly assumed that it was somehow a requirement to be full blood in order to be in Slytherin. She put an arm on the boy's shoulder and for a moment she thought he was going to shrug it off. Instead he turned to look at her. There were questions brewing in his icy gray eyes.

"So, someone's set that monster on you?"

He nodded and looked down. "Guess they're just trying to purify the Slytherin house."

"That's a load of rubbish. Blood doesn't mean anything," she removed a hand from his shoulder. She could feel anger boiling inside of her. She knew exactly what it was like to be persecuted for having muggle blood. She knew what it was like to have to prove to everyone day after day that she was just as capable as everyone else.

Tom turned to her again with a wary smile on his face. "You know that. I know that. Not a lot of other people understand that."

"Tom, I just have to know, how is this all possible? How can you show me these things? I'm…scared. I don't know how everything can be so…realistic."

He looked down. "I told you. I'm dead Hermione. All this…it's just memories. Memories I've saved in my journal. The journal you happened across. I understand what's going on just as much as you do." He was about to say more but he paused abruptly. He looked down again and busied himself with the melting wax along the candle stick.

"What?" Hermione urged him on.

"It's nothing. It's actually pretty ridiculous."

She gave him a look as if to say, 'Tom, we're past feeling ridiculous. I've seen a few intimate scenarios of your life and you saved me from a large memory-monster.'

He sighed, "I happen to…enjoy your company, and not just because I'm lonely," he clarified.

"Well everything you've shown me has been really interesting, Tom," she said, and she meant it. His life seemed loads more exciting than hers. Granted, he was fighting for his life at this moment in time. Hermione stopped suddenly.

That was it.

She missed the excitement. She actually missed flinging curses at the enemy and camping out in the middle of no where looking for horcruxes. This new boy, whether he be ghost, or poltergeist, or memory was interesting. He was new. He was fresh. He was a mystery.

Once again the scene before her began to get blurry. She reached out and squeezed his hand, "I'll be back again," she said reassuringly.

He smiled back at her, "Thank you," he said quietly.

She awoke not feeling rested at all. She checked the watch on her nightstand. Four thirty in the morning. She lay back on her pillows and fell into a fitful, restless, slumber.

Hi guys. I know some of you may find the plot to be a little slow, but bear with me. I don't want any Tomione action to spring out of nowhere, especially when Hermione knows so little about him.

ALSO this is important, I'm going to be busy so I won't be able to update for a while. I'm sorry!

Thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter