She had taken it with her – the diary, that is. Secretly stashed away in one of her many dress pockets before Draco had returned to the library shortly after Tom's reply. She had wanted so badly to respond to him that she hadn't even hesitated to take it. She was certain it wouldn't be missed, and Tom would surely tell her where its owner was if she needed to return it after all.

They hadn't lingered long at Malfoy Manor, and she was now back home, hunched over her desk with a quill in her hand. She retrieved the diary and flipped to the first page, which was now empty once again. Neither her entry nor Tom's remained visible.

"Fascinating," she whispered to herself as she dipped her quill into the inkwell.

~Hello Tom, this is Hermione again. Are you there? How can you even reply to me?~

Hermione watched as her questions seemed to dissolve into the pages of the diary, her anticipation growing with each passing second.

A response soon appeared, the elegant script forming on the page as if written by an invisible hand.

~Magic, dear Hermione. It's a fascinating thing, isn't it?~

Hermione couldn't help but be captivated by the way the words danced across the paper. She took a moment to compose herself before replying, her curiosity piqued.

~Magic is indeed fascinating. Who are you, Tom? And how did you end up in this diary?~

There was a pause as if Tom was carefully considering his response.

~I am just a wizard, Hermione. And as for how I ended up in this diary, let's just say I found a way to preserve a part of myself during my youth.~

Hermione's brow furrowed. Tom's answer was cryptic, leaving her with more questions than answers.

~Preserve a part of yourself? What do you mean?~

Tom's reply came swiftly.

~Oh, you are an inquisitive one, aren't you? I've always admired that quality. You see, I've left a piece of my knowledge and my experiences within this diary. It's a way for me and my… owner to communicate, to learn from each other.~

Hermione couldn't deny the intrigue that Tom's words stirred within her.

~Learn from each other? What can you teach me, Tom?~

Tom's words dripped with temptation.

~I can teach you about all kinds of magic, Hermione. Tell me are you still at Hogwarts?~

Hermione dipped her quill into the inkwell and hesitantly replied.

~I'll enter my first year this September, and it's both exciting and overwhelming. How do you know about Hogwarts?~

She watched as her words faded into the paper.

~Ah, I've been a student there myself. I have a knack for picking up knowledge from those who write in me. Fascinating, don't you think? Tell me, dear, what house do you aspire to be sorted into?~

Hermione couldn't help but be intrigued by the diary's explanation. It was almost as if the book had a mind of its own. She considered the question for a moment before answering.

~I hope to be sorted into Gryffindor. Or maybe Ravenclaw. I'm not sure yet. How about you, Tom? Which house were you sorted into?~

The diary's pages seemed to brim with something akin to bemusement.

~Gryffindor, you say? Your potential would be wasted there Hermione Black. Let's make a bet if you correctly guess my house, I'll tell you a secret about the school.~

Hermione's mind raced as she considered Tom's offer. The allure of gaining knowledge was undeniable, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this diary—and to Tom—than met the eye.

~Give me a little time before I tell you my guess. I need to get to know you better first.~

Again, words formed on the page before her eyes.

~Of course, my dear. I feel like I've been keeping you for long enough now. Why don't you rest up and we'll continue our talk at a later point?~

Hermione's eager anticipation turned into disappointment at Tom's suggestion. Still, she couldn't deny the late hour any longer. With reluctance, she agreed and closed the diary, setting it aside as she prepared for bed.

That night, her dreams transformed into harrowing nightmares. She found herself relentlessly pursued by a young boy with hauntingly dark eyes. His very presence felt suffocating, and his gaze seemed to pierce through her soul, filling her with dread.

Thankfully, by the following morning, she had mostly forgotten the dreams, her eagerness to speak with Tom overriding her unease. Thus, she sat through her lessons with Walburga, her mind continually drifting back to her conversations with the diary. So far, no one had asked for the book's return, so she remained confident that the Malfoys hadn't noticed its absence. The hours dragged by, and by the end of the day, she could barely contain her restlessness at the dining table, her thoughts already consumed by what she wanted to ask Tom that night.

"You appear rather distracted. Is something amiss?" her grandmother inquired over the rim of her wineglass, causing Hermione to pale.

"Not at all, Grandmother. I was merely contemplating which house I would prefer to be sorted into," Hermione replied.

The older woman narrowed her eyes. "Slytherin, of course. Where else could you possibly belong? You're a Black."

The atmosphere at the table grew heavy. The only other Gryffindor in recent memory had been her father, a topic she preferred to avoid. He was absent again, likely staying with his friend. Hermione couldn't help but wonder what he was up to these days. A small, childish part of her hoped he was working on a way to escape this wretched place with her.

"I was also considering Ravenclaw," Hermione ventured, choosing a more neutral, less anger-inducing option.

Walburga scoffed. "If the Sorting Hat leaves you with no other choice, I suppose it will suffice. As long as you aren't sorted into Hufflepuff or, Salazar help us, Gryffindor, it will be acceptable."

Hermione nodded demurely, and the two finished their dinner in silence. Once she could finally retreat to her room, she practically sprinted up the stairs and retrieved the diary from under her bed. She eagerly curled up in her armchair, resting the diary on her lap as she began to write.

~Tom? Are you there?~

His reply was nearly instant.

~Where else would I be, little witch? How was your day?~

A smile crept onto Hermione's face as she recounted her day's events to Tom, detailing her lessons with Walburga and her growing eagerness to speak with him.

They conversed for a while, discussing various topics, until Tom's curiosity seemed to take a more focused turn.

~Hermione, dear, I'm intrigued. Could you share with me where you found this diary?~

Hermione hesitated for a moment, feeling a twinge of guilt. However, she decided to be forthcoming.

~I found you hidden away on a shelf in the library at Malfoy Manor. It appears no one had touched you in years. How long have you been there, Tom?~

Tom's reply was smooth, his tone persuasive.

~Ah, it's been a while. Time can be quite a mystery, don't you think? Speaking of which, Hermione, would you be so kind as to tell me which year it currently is?~

Hermione furrowed her brow at the diary's question. It was an odd thing to ask, but she decided to provide an honest response.

~It's the year 1991. Why do you ask, Tom?~

Tom explained that curiosity had driven him to ask about the current year and mentioned his existence as a diary for a while. Hermione expressed her understanding, and their conversation shifted back to her plans for Hogwarts and her meticulously crafted study schedules designed to keep pace with her fellow students.

~You're truly remarkable, Hermione Black. I can see you're a brilliant young witch, and I have no doubt that we can mutually benefit from each other,~ the diary praised her.

A rosy blush graced Hermione's cheeks as she felt a warm sense of appreciation wash over her.

Hermione found herself increasingly drawn to Tom, whether he was a wizard or a diary… or a wizard turned diary. It didn't matter; their connection ran deeper than the pages she held in her hands. Their conversations had become a lifeline in this gloomy and oppressive house. She had never met anyone who not only accepted but passionately embraced her love for knowledge as wholeheartedly as Tom did.

With every exchange, their bond grew stronger. In Tom, she had discovered someone, who shared her insatiable thirst for understanding the intricate tapestry of magic. In the following weeks, they talked about a myriad of topics. Hermione cherished every moment of these secret conversations deep at night when she was free from her family's expectations.

Tom's probing questions, sometimes reminiscent of her grandfather Arcturus in the way he formulated them, didn't bother her in the slightest. Rather, she relished talking with someone who truly understood her burning curiosity.

For the first time since she had become a Black, Hermione felt a profound sense of belonging. Tom had become a beacon of light in the otherwise murky existence of Grimmauld Place. She eagerly looked forward to their discussions, savouring each interaction. And before she knew it, September had arrived…

Still kinda alive.

I won't dwell too much on Hermione's first years, as the real action begins to unfold around their third year. With Sirius already on the loose, it's likely that we'll kiss canon goodbye entirely by that point. xoxo