Disclaimer : From this point forward please note that I own nothing from the HP universe.

The Bait

Hermione got home from work, exhausted; she put her key into the lock and began to turn it. Luckily she looked down at her feet and noticed a parcel waiting by her door. Her brow furrowed and she bent down to pick up the unexpected package. She opened to door to her flat and pushed inside, sliding out of her uncomfortable shoes and tucking them neatly into the closet, along with her cloak. She walked slowly to the kitchen and put the parcel on the counter eyeing it warily as she pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge. She poured a glass took a large sip of it then sighed opening the parcel.

It was a note book, completely blank, but there was a note tucked in between the front cover and the first page. I hope you don't think this too forward, but I've been an admirer of yours for years. I've always been too intimidated to talk to you in real life so I thought of a handy way we could chat, if you'd like to of course. This book has a twin, that I am in possession of, and if you write in it I'll receive your message and vice versa. I don't want you to be wary that this might be a dark artefact, and I really hope you'll want to talk to me, yours truly V. Hermione smirked. An admirer? Who used the initial V? It could be in reference to a muggle story called V for Vendetta, it could be an actual initial of their name, and it could be a random chosen letter. She sat there going over it in her head.

She wouldn't even have considered writing in it except for the fact that she was extremely lonely. She and Ron were no longer seeing each other, her job kept her isolated and busy, and while she still had other friends she couldn't see them as often as she liked. She worked at the ministry as a decoder. She was very adept at seeing through codes, and translating ruins. It was a highly prestigious job, but a solitary one. She sat in an office all day and read whatever got sent to her office and tried to decode or translate it.

She took a couple more sips of wine and then crossed her flat to her bedroom, and then into the adjoining bathroom. She quickly showered and then changed into a pair of pajamas. She slipped into her favorite rainbow leopard print pants and a loose black t-shirt that was promoting the band the weird sisters. She then stuck her feet into fluffy black slippers and padded back into the main part of her flat. She slowly prepared dinner, and ate it, then poured herself another glass of wine. She had been thinking through her whole routine about whether or not she should write in the notebook that had been sent to her. On the one hand it could be dangerous, who could forget about Ginny with Tom riddles old diary? But on the other hand she was dying to know who this V was. Thinking back on the danger factor she contemplated the letter V, V for Voldemort? Surely not, he was dead, like really dead, for sure dead.

Her mind made up she sighed and pulled the book towards her. She cracked it open to the first page and sat there for a minute. She stood and retrieved a pen from a drawer in her kitchen, topped up her wine glass and sat back down. She shut her eyes tight, thinking that this was possibly one of the stupidest things she could do, then put pen to paper. Hi admirer. I wish you wouldn't be so secretive, who are you? She sat there for only a minute before her admirer responded.

What would the point in telling you be after I went to all the trouble of making this book to keep my identity a secret?

I suppose you have a fair point there. Do I know you?

Yes. Though not very well. I've wanted to talk to you for ages I'm really glad that you decided to write.

I admit myself to be quite intrigued by the mystery of this all, V. That was my main reason for writing. Well now that you have my attention, what should we talk about?

How was your day?

Hermione smiled a bit at the response. Busy, as usual, and yours?

Nerve wracking I sent this package off today and have hardly been able to focus wondering if you would write to me.

Why do you care so much?

Why not? I find you illuminating. I wish I wasn't a coward so I could talk to you face to face, but…Well maybe someday.

Hermione sat there wondering what to say to that.

Where do I know you from? Do you work at the ministry? Did you go to Hogwarts while I was there? This might seem like a stupid question, but, are you a guy, or a girl?

There's only so much I can tell you without giving myself away isn't there? No, I don't work at the Ministry, and yes, we went to school together. I am a guy. That's all I really feel comfortable disclosing. For now.

Were we in the same year? What house were you in? Please just give me something to go off of.

I'm sorry; I can't answer either of those questions. Please forgive me for acting enigmatic, but anonymity is the name of my game.

I don't think I care much for your game, what are we to talk about if you are unable to reveal anything about yourself to me?

We can talk about you. I'm very interested in you.

I hardly think that's fair, since you already seem to know so much about me. I on the other hand know nothing about you. Why should I even trust you?

I suppose you have a point there. I'm not sure what I can do to put you at ease. Maybe a bit of back story, although you'll just have to take my word for it. I was at Hogwarts while you were there, I watched get sorted. I was a little disappointed that you didn't get sorted into my house, but what can you do?

Hermione sat there and sank her hands into her hair. What an infuriating guy!

Okay so you were either in my year or older than me, and not in Gryffindor. What else?

I'm afraid that's all I'll say for now. I'm sorry if I am frustrating you.

You are, yet somehow I am still writing to you. I feel kind of stupid. Why won't you tell me who you are though? I want the real reason. I don't believe it is just because you are shy. Do you think I won't like you? Are you insecure about your appearance?

Don't feel stupid. I am kind of shy, but if we are being totally honest, I'll tell you the reason. I was injured, during the war, and now when I go out in public, people stare. I don't ever want to see the revulsion on your face if you were to see me.

I've seen plenty of war injuries. Though I'm sure you know I have. Ron's brother Bill was mauled by a werewolf and I have no problems looking at him. I doubt it could be worse than that.

Please believe me, it is worse than that, far worse. Maybe one day when you've fallen for my charms and will look past what you see…Maybe then I'll tell you.

Well man of mystery, it's time I got to bed.

Will you write to me again? Maybe tomorrow?

I'll think about it if you make it worth my while. Because this was just sheer frustrating tonight, you can't hold my interest by dodging questions forever. Good night V.

Good night Ms. Granger.

Hermione sat back and closed the book. She knocked back the rest of her wine then crawled into bed. Her head was shifting through all of the information she had received from her so called admirer. She tossed and turned trying to shut her brain off long enough for her to get to sleep.

Her admirer on the other hand sat back satisfied and smirked. She had done exactly what he wanted. She had opened to book and wrote to him, letting him in if only a little bit. His plan in action and so far succeeding, he stood from his desk and stretched before flopping into bed and falling quickly, and happily asleep.

Hermione groggily opened her eyes. It was a Saturday, which meant no work. She sat in bed for a while trying to remember what she had been dreaming of. She could not remember no matter how hard she tried. She snuggled back into her dark brown comforter hoping that she could fall asleep for a little longer, but thoughts of her admirer were plaguing her. She thought it might seem desperate if she woke up and rushed to the notebook first thing. She had to hand it to whomever it was, they knew exactly how to hook her. Ever since she was a little girl mysteries and enigmas drew her like a moth to the flame.

The only feeling she could admit to feeling towards the mystery writer were agitation and impatience. She felt she almost had no choice but to figure out who this guy was. With that in mind she rolled out of bed, cooked herself breakfast and then headed off to the ministry to look at the war records. To see if any name on the list of the wounded would resonate with her. Minor injuries of course were not recorded, but from the way V was talking it was not a small injury. Flustered and out of ideas, Hermione stomped out of the ministry and then apparated to her apartment building, She threw herself onto her couch and sighed. It took all her self-control not to snap up the notebook and start writing in it. She had decided earlier that she would wait until after dinner to write, if in fact she did. The hours seemed to dawdle on, she did however finally make dinner, and after she ate she pulled the notebook towards her.

AN: So a brand new story! I know my last one isn't quite finished yet, but this idea was just nagging at me. The italicized print is the mystery man and the bold print is Hermione. I wonder who this mystery man could be? Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks for reading! :)