Hermione sat in the Great hall. The eggs and bacon on the plate in front of her were now room temperature and her eyes were fixed to the rafters. She watched the last of the owls flutter through the high windows of the hall. Her eyes lingered for a few seconds while she silently hoped to see a stray owl swoop in. She looked down, disappointed. The food on her plate did not tempt her in any way so she stood up and left the hall.

Why haven't they written back yet? Hermione wondered. Her fists clenched at her sides as she sped across the entrance hall.

"Hermione!" a voice called from behind her.

Hermione spun around, "What?" she growled. She didn't appreciate her thoughts being interrupted like that.

"Oh, um, sorry," Ginny Weasley slowed her pace. "I didn't mean to bother you."

Hermione rubbed her forehead irritably. A headache was casually blooming there like a flower in the crack of a sidewalk. "Sorry, long night. Didn't get a lot of sleep." It was half true. She hadn't been sleeping all that much, but it wasn't just last night. It had been every night that week. She had been waking up in the wee hours and once awake, found that she couldn't return to sleep.

Ginny gave her a reassuring smile, "We've all had one or two of those. I was just wondering if you're going to stay over during break."

Something inside Hermione sparked. "I wasn't aware that I was welcome," she replied cooly.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, "Don't be thick," she said, "you're always welcome."

"I've got other plans," Hermione said and she turned and walked away briskly before Ginny could protest.

x~x~x~x~x~x

Hermione found that she could not focus at all during her classes. Her attention seemed to always wander away and land on a certain dark haired boy. Her headache was pressing against the inside of her skull and her head threatened to explode under its pressure. Her eyelids also began to feel heavier and heavier as the day wore on.

She was trudging down the hallway after a practically painful hour of Herbology. Her shoes were caked in mud that she had tracked in from the grounds. Usually she would have charmed the mud off in her respect for the house elves, but today she found that she could not be bothered with such a task. The pain in her head was nearly unbearable and she was beginning to feel weak. She teetered a bit and the world threatened to disappear into a haze of darkness, but someone was able to catch her.

"Are you okay, Miss Granger?" a gentle male voice asked from behind her.

She recognized the voice as that of Professor Slughorn. "Forgive me, Professor," she mumbled weakly, "I haven't been feeling very well these past few days."

"Perhaps a visit to the hospital wing?" he suggested while he helped her regain her balance and grip on the world.

"No, it's not that severe," Hermione tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace.

Professor Slughorn looked at her with a blatant expression of concern on his face. "What's troubling you, Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged, "Haven't really been able to sleep is all."

"I might have something for that in my office," Slughorn offered.

Hermione almost managed to smile again. That's exactly what she needed. "Sure, thanks professor," she said thankfully. She followed him to the dungeons. He was a chunky man who usually had a slow gait, but she could tell that he was moving even slower to accommodate her pace. She was having trouble keeping her vision straight. Not tripping over her own feet was proving to be an even more difficult task.

They reached the Professor's office soon enough and Hermione leaned against a nearby wall to steady herself while he unlocked it. She waited in the doorway while he sifted through a cabinet filled with vials until he produced one that contained a liquid of shimmering clear liquid.

He handed it over and she accepted it gratefully. "Is that all you need?" he asked.

She nodded, thanked him, and was about to walk away when she stopped. She turned and asked something that had been bothering her since her first encounter with Tom, "Professor, is it possible for a ghost to, well, haunt an object?" she asked. She felt that out of all the professors at school, Slughorn was the oldest and was generally the most amicable with the students. She felt that he would respect a certain confidentiality.

His eyebrows furrowed, "You mean like a poltergeist? Peeves does, on occasion, choose to 'haunt' the supply closet. Throwing vials and ingredients around and such. Sure makes a dreadful mess."

"What about something like a journal?" Hermione asked.

"I suppose so. I'm assuming this journal is a real object. Does it fly around the room, or make any form of noise?"

Hermione shook her head, "No. I mean, well, sometimes I'll leave it in my bag and when I wake up in the morning it will be in my bed."

"Have you tested it for magic?" Slughorn asked.

"It was clean," Hermione replied. "I've been having dreams though. Dreams about the boy who used to own the journal."

"Oh? Tell me about these dreams,"

"Well, he just shows me some of his memories and such. They're really. really vivid," Hermione explained. Slughorn frowned. "What?" Hermione asked.

"I have a suspicion. Please, feel free to talk to me if you find out any more about this journal. For now I have to get to class. Doesn't look to well when a teacher's late for a lesson."

Hermione nodded and they exchanged a goodbye. Her headache was growing more painful and she headed to the common room before it could consume her.

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

She sunk into bed and closed her eyes. Her headache had dissipated some and she rolled over to take the vial from her bed side table. She uncorked it and noted that it smelled faintly sweet. She took a small swig and re-corked it before setting the vial on the table again. She drew her curtains and immediately felt the darkness of sleep pulling at her consciousness.

She was bound by an invisible force in a cramped stone room. She could feel panic slowly spreading through her veins and sending a slight tingle of adrenaline through her muscles. She managed to sit up. There was a large metal door set in the wall opposite of her. The room smelled of rot and human waste. "Hello?" she shouted uncertainly. The only reply she received was the echo of her voice against the stones. She rested her head against the stone wall behind her.

Suddenly there was a dull thudding on the door. Hermione slid herself closer to it. "Is someone there?" she asked loudly.

"Hermione?" came a muffled reply from the other side of the door. The feminine voice was quiet, but immediately recognizable.

"Mom!" Hermione shouted. "Mom get me out of here!" She could feel desperate tears stinging at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm trying!" there was a feeble tug at the door handle. Then, a lower portion of the door slid away. Hermione assumed that's where food was slipped into the room. She collapsed to the floor and slid closer to the opening. Her mother crouched down and for a moment they just looked at each other's faces. Her mother had a black eye and a particularly angry wound at her left temple that was sending blood seeping down her face.

"Mom, just go," Hermione's voice cracked. "I'll be fine. You just go."

"I won't leave you," her mother whispered.

"I'll be fine. You just go," Hermione repeated.

Suddenly her mother's eyes widened and she let out a scream. She was dragged from view. "Mom!" Hermione shouted. The opening in the door was slammed shut. "MOM!" Hermione repeated. She sat up and threw her weight against the door. "MOM!"

Her mother's screams grew fainter and fainter. Hermione collapsed against the cool metal of the door and began to cry.

x~x~x~x~x~x

She awoke and immediately sat up. She looked around the room. She didn't recognize it at all. The walls were a mint green color, and there was a single barred window next to the wall. She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The metal cot beneath her creaked warily. The door opened suddenly revealing a familiar curly haired boy.

"Tom," she said desperately.

He spun around and his eyes widened when he saw her. He shut the door behind him hastily and moved toward her. "What are you doing here, Hermione? Are you okay?" he asked, eyeing her with concern.

She looked up at him and considered lying and assuring him that she was fine. She decided against it. "I had a dream. A nightmare really," she said.

He sat next to her and wrapped his arms around her. She immediately felt comfort easing away her tension. "What about?" he asked quietly.

While Hermione explained her dream Tom listened intently. Her took to brushing the hair from her face and rubbing her back. When she was finished they sat in silence for a while.

"She wouldn't leave you? Even when she herself was in danger?" Tom asked. His voice was darker than usual and Hermione turned to face him. Something crimson flashed in his eyes, and at first she thought she had imagined it. They returned to their pale gray color almost instantly.

"Yeah," was all Hermione could muster. She was tired and confused by Tom's reaction.

He looked down and refused to make eye contact with her. "What about your mother, Tom?" she asked. She suddenly wished she hadn't.

"My mother?" Tom snorted. "Look around you. I have no mother."

Hermione released herself from Tom's grasp and explored the room in greater detail. She looked out of the dingy window at the gray world beyond. There was a small yard in front of the building surrounded by a tall brick wall. There were children playing in the grass below. The boys were dressed in gray tweed pants with white collared shirts. The girls were dressed in gray sleeved dresses. Hermione turned and noticed Tom wearing a similar uniform.

"An orphanage?"

Tom smiled humorlessly. "Correct. I suppose you want to know why."

Hermione nodded and sat down next to him. It was her turn to provide comfort. She wrapped one of his hands in both of hers and listened.

"My mom died when I was born. My dad, didn't really want to have me in the first place, I guess, so he left me here. I guess that means that I don't really have anyone on my side," he clenched his free hand into a fist.

"That's not true," Hermione said. He looked up at her. "I'm on your side," she said removing her hand from the top of his and resting it on the side of his face.

And that's when he kissed her. This time they were both completely sober. The kiss was pleading and needy. He was mysterious and possibly dangerous, but Hermione could see his cracks and fissures and all she wanted in that moment was to fix them.

His arms wound around her waist and pulled her closer to him. His tongue danced lightly along her lower lip. Hermione gasped and he pulled back immediately. "What's wrong?" he asked. Concern shone in his eyes.

She laughed a true, genuine laugh and pulled him back into another kiss.

Hi. Yeah, sorry for the long over due update. It's just this fic requires a lot of planning + thought. I know many of you are really really confused about Tom's behavior, but relax. Breathe. I've read the books and watched the movies. I got this 3

Thanks for all the reviews and encouraging comments! You guys are the reason why I keep continuing this fic