A/N: See end.

Friendly reminders that:

a) this is fanfiction, not canon,

b) I'm not JKR,

c) I own none of these characters, only the plot I've come up with, and

d) I'm not British.

Hermione stretched lazily in the comfort of the hotel bed as errant sunbeams danced across her face from the window. Hermione turned over and made herself comfortable again, and had nearly drifted back to sleep when she heard the light tapping at her window. Hermione threw the covers off and darted to the window to let Errol inside and collect her missive.

"Hello 'Mione,

It's me, George! You probably didn't even fall for that. What if I told you it was Ronald? Then again, Ronniekins? Writing a letter? Never. By now, you know it's me writing, your favorite and most dashing of the ginger clan that calls themselves the Weasleys. Glad to hear that your parents took you to France for the summer, I'll bet it's lovely there. I've never been, but it's the sort of place that people always like to wistfully reminisce about, so I assume you're having the time of your life. You'll have to teach me some French when we get back, I need some more convincing words if I'm going to be able to keep tricking Ron with fake spells.

As I'm sure I mentioned before we left Hogwarts, Dad went and won himself a contest, so the whole family's been in Egypt for the last two weeks. Ron and Ginny seem amused enough, but Mum is thrilled to have the whole family together, considering we only get to see Bill at Christmas these days. Egypt is good, very hot, very dry, very…sandy. If we spend another day out in the sun, I'm positive that Ron will die—whether of sunburn or of complaining, I can't tell, so you might want to send your well wishes now, before it's too late. Other than that, it's been quite fun, George and I nearly snuck into one of the secret rooms in a pyramid before Mum caught us and very loudly threatened to confiscate our wands for the remainder of the summer, so now we're on our best behavior for these last two days.

Since you asked, Ginny's doing well. A bit quieter than normal, but I suppose that's to be expected. She's still got a month before school starts up, and we're all hoping she falls back into her usual self by then. Personally, I think she's missing some of her friends, after all, we're family, but…well, we're all blokes. When I told her I was writing you, she was thrilled and made me promise to tell you that she can't wait to see you again this year. I suppose I ought to thank you for that, befriending her and all, but I can't exactly say I'm surprised. It's in your nature to treat people kindly, I've known that since I met you.

Speaking of treating people kindly, Ron's barged into the tent to inform me that "he tried to use the tellphone? (you'll have to explain what that is to me later) to call Harry a few weeks back, and an angry man picked up and said 'don't call this ruddy number again, you hear?' and that you shouldn't try to call Harry either because he doesn't know what happened next." (And yes, 'Mione, that delightful grammar came straight from the mouth of my baby brother, a modern-day Shakespeare, I know.) I'll choose to let that slide for now but know that I've got a host of questions for you when we get to school.

In other news, Mum's decided that we'll be in London for the last week leading up to the new term, and she wanted me to invite you to join us. I know your parents aren't the most comfortable with the Wizarding World, but Mum said she'd be glad to be introduced to them and show them around. We'll be at the Leaky Cauldron at the end of August, so ask your parents if they'll let you come!

As always, do continue to provide updates on the state of your summer adventures—if not, you'll certainly be on the receiving end of a Weasley interrogation, and while I know you've got Gryffindor courage and all that, let me just say…I wouldn't wish it on you.

Spectacularly Yours,

Frederick G. Weasley

Hermione grinned before hastily picking up a quill and some parchment from the nearby desk and beginning to transcribe a response.

August 29th was hot, the kind of hot that made Hermione cringe when she woke up and inhaled air thick with humidity. It had rained the night before, the soothing sound putting her to sleep after spending the last hours of the day double and triple checking the contents of her trunk. Despite her love of the summer months, as Hermione smiled delightedly at the prospect of seeing her friends in a matter of hours, she wished for slightly cooler weather. Hermione pulled on the lightest combination of clothing she could manage before going downstairs and greeting her parents.

"Hermione, darling, have you got all your things together for the trip down to London?" Laura Granger inquired from the kitchen as she poured herself some coffee and turned to her daughter.

"Of course, mum." Hermione grinned as she entered the kitchen and pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket. "I've got all of my school materials in my trunk. There's only one thing I still need, and I don't think we'll be able to find it at Diagon Alley anyhow."

Hermione's mother shook her head bemusedly. "And what would that be? I thought this alleyway had everything you could possibly need?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed as she stammered out an explanation about a planner from Professor McGonagall that was hand-spelled, so obviously she couldn't get it in Diagon Alley.

As her mother shot her an appraising look, Hermione tensed, only relaxing her shoulders when her mother decided to change the subject and seemingly let the matter slide. "So, we'll be meeting up with the Weasley's, then? What are their names again? Molly and…" she trailed off, enjoying the clear relief that the subject change brought her daughter.

"Molly and Arthur, mum. And the kids, well…There are quite a few of them, but the ones that should be there will be Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. Well, and Harry, but he's not one of the Weasleys." Hermione grinned at her mother, already eager to arrive and see her friends.

"Well let's get to it then," her mother said with a gentle smile, hoping that this year would be a bit calmer for her daughter.

"Is that a Granger that I see?"

"By George, I think it is!"

"Well, well, well, we ought to say hello, don't you think Freddie Boy?"

"Indeed, we must!"

Hermione had just walked into the Leaky Cauldron when she heard the twins' voices echoing above her. Expecting a prank, she braced herself for a burst of water or air rushing past her but was shocked to merely receive a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, she saw the two lanky redheads grinning widely at her, and immediately pulled them into a fierce hug.

"I've missed you two loads!" She exclaimed as she released them, "How have you been? Tell me more about Egypt? Was it incredible? I've read that there are some priceless artifacts in the museum in Cairo, did you happen to go there and see them? I say them, it's really the—"

Fred cut her off before she could keep going, smiling as he slung an arm over her shoulders and guided her towards the stairway. "If we'd gone to the museum, you would've been the first to know, 'Mione. Promise, I would've written you about it. Glad to see you here though. Mum told Ron you'd be coming, and I overheard him saying something about needing to talk to you before Harry got here. I assume it's got something to do with his exams, but who knows with that one. It could be a misplaced attempt to turn Scabbers yellow again." He snorted and then paused at the base of the stairs. "Say, are your Mum and Dad here? I'm sure my parents would love to meet them."

Hermione nodded and tugged his arm to turn him back towards the doorway, where her parents were standing, slightly awestruck at the company gathered within the pub. "Mum! Dad! This is Fred, and over there," she gestured to the other twin, now actively engaged in a conversation with one of the pub's patrons, "is George, his twin brother."

Hermione's father stuck a hand out and Fred shook it excitedly.

"You're the fun one, aren't you?" Mr. Granger said, grinning slightly. "Little Mina here has told me a bit about you and your jokes—I was a bit of a prankster myself back in the day." He smiled wistfully as his wife gave him a gentle smack on the shoulder. "Henry Granger, pleased to meet you."

Fred smirked and Hermione groaned internally. That was his "I've just learned something that'll make for great teasing material" face.

"Laura Granger, I've also heard of you. Thank you for looking after this one in her first year—she'd never admit it, you know, but she was awfully lonely before you two became friends." At this, Hermione blushed furiously and turned away from the conversation, choosing instead to find Ron upstairs.

"So, let me get this straight, this Sirius Black, he's escaped from a wizarding prison called Azkaban?"

Ron nodded.

"He's a mass murderer?"

Ron nodded again.

"Responsible for getting Harry's parents killed?"

Ron's silent nodding was beginning to irritate Hermione.

"And is also Harry's godfather??"

Ron shrugged sheepishly, "No clue what that's about, but Mum and Dad were talking about it when McGonagall was here earlier. Harry's parents must've really trusted the guy. You know," He paused for a moment before turning to face her with a thoughtful look on his face, "This makes everything worse. I mean blimey, Harry's already got enough of a tragic backstory, don't you think it's going a bit too far to also have a deranged murderer as his godfather?"

Hermione's scowl deepened. Their friend had indeed faced enough tragedy, and it seemed like more was apt to follow him. It just wasn't fair, and for what would be the first of many occasions, Hermione wished she could go back in time and change things for Harry. The fact still stood, however, that Harry had a target on his back. This Sirius Black character sounded deadly, and if he'd escaped what Hermione envisioned as a maximum-security wizarding prison, Harry was in terrible danger. Knowing Harry, if he found out that he had a godfather, he'd want to find him, even if every other logical person in the wizarding world told him otherwise. Harry always looked for the good in people, and until he heard a truly damning story, he wouldn't condemn Black.

Honestly, Hermione thought, things would be significantly easier if Harry was more suspicious of anyone who ever knew his parents. But now, Ron and I have to keep him from going on a suicide mission to find a man who wants to kill him.

Hermione sighed deeply. There really wasn't an easy way out of this… Unless—"What if we don't tell him?"

Ron, who had turned away to eat a chocolate frog, choked slightly on his sweet before facing her with a strange look on his face. "Not tell Harry what? That there's a madman after him?" Hermione nodded slowly.

"You know Harry, even without us telling him, he'll find out somehow. Who knows, maybe McGonagall will sit him down at the beginning of term and give him a warning about Black."

Hermione frowned at this. "But Ron, you know as well as I do that as soon as Harry finds out Black is his godfather, he'll want to go after him! And I know we're at Hogwarts, but Harry would be the type to do something foolish like sending Black a letter via owl post and then sneaking off grounds to meet him under his invisibility cloak." At this, Ron had the decency to blush and pretend to look ashamed of his encouragement of such behavior.

"So maybe we just…Leave out that fact? If he's going to find out the rest of it from the prophet, he might as well hear it from us, you know. But when he asks what we know, we'll just…leave that bit out, at least until we think we can safely keep him in the castle."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the last comment but nodded in tentative agreement before sticking her hand out towards Ron.

"Alright then. No word to Harry on Black being his godfather when he asks. Deal?"

Ron's freckled hand reached out to grasp Hermione's pale one. "Deal."

A few hours later saw the three students huddled in the room that Ron, Harry, and the twins would be sharing for the night.

Their reunion had been somewhat tense, as Hermione's new pet had taken the opportunity to harass Scabbers almost immediately upon his arrival. After a bitter exchange of words, Ron and Hermione had separated themselves to different areas of the main lounge, Ron to play a round of Wizarding Chess with Percy, and Hermione to review her summer assignments one last time. When Harry arrived, both students rose to their feet and made eye contact, color bleeding onto their cheeks as sheepish expressions climbed onto their faces. A slight head nod from Hermione had them both moving quickly towards their friend, their argument temporarily forgotten.

Hermione was glad to see Harry. She'd begun to worry about what his summers were like after he had mentioned never having a whole plate of food to himself in passing during their first year. But after hearing the twins and Ron recount how his family had locked him into his room, her concern had steadily risen. Since Harry had begun sending her letters, Hermione assumed things must have improved with his relatives. Now, though, she wasn't quite so sure.

Harry was quiet when he climbed up the stairs to meet Ron and Hermione in the room they'd be sharing. He was rarely the loudest in a room, but his excitement usually got the better of him when it came time to see his friends. Today, however, the dark-haired boy was preoccupied, and there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in his body language, which to an outside observer may have seemed normal, but to Hermione was clearly indicative of the contrary.

The smile Harry had given Ron and herself when he first saw them in the pub didn't reach his eyes, and his posture screamed tension. She had happily given him a hug and apologized for the lack of regular contact, but Harry had waved it off in a perfunctory way, clearly distracted by something else. As they arranged themselves on the beds in the room, Harry cleared his throat and started talking.

"So," he began, staring at a spot on the floor before bringing his eyes up to meet Ron's, "Sirius Black."

The next day, Fred pulled Hermione aside before she boarded the train.

"You've got to be careful this year, you know that?" he chided with a small smile on his face as the girl before him blushed slightly. "Can't have you running off and trying to help people and getting yourself into trouble again, now can we?"

Hermione swatted Fred's arm half-heartedly and fixed him with as stern of a stare as she could muster. "If I have to, so do you," she said. "I don't want to see any reckless behavior out of you, not if you know what's good for you."

Fred stood open-mouthed for a moment, choosing his words carefully before he spoke. "But 'Mione…That's what George and I do. Merlin, half of our time at Hogwarts is spent doing reckless things, what do you mean asking me to just…not?" He paused, watching her face carefully. After a moment or two, Hermione's composure broke down and she let out a small grin.

"I know that, Fred. But that's just the thing. Running off and helping people—well, helping Harry and Ron, at least—it's what I do. You can't take that away from me, just like I can't take your mischief away from you. That's who I am, and who you are. If I tried to change you, you'd be miserable." She paused here, before allowing a broad smile to grace her features. "And besides, you'd be terribly boring."

At this, Fred dramatically grasped at his heart and feigned a deep wounding. "Boring? Me? Never! Perish the thought—strike it from your head right now!" He stage-whispered to her, before grabbing her close and seemingly attempting to rub the idea out of her hair. To his delight, and Hermione's chagrin, her squirming was for nothing and she remained in his grasp for a good twenty seconds before finally escaping his clutches. Shooting him a glare, Hermione attempted to smooth down her hair, to no avail, before sighing heavily and resigning herself to weaving a thick plait to hang on her back.

"Sorry love, had to be done," Fred said with a wink. "Couldn't let that mental image survive any longer." Turning to face his luggage, he shot one last smile at the girl beside him before jogging to meet his brother and no doubt plan their first good prank of the year. Had he waited a few seconds more, or glanced at Hermione for more than a moment, he would've seen the telltale flush of her cheeks and whispered "love?" that passed her lips before she quickly shook her head and went to find Harry and Ron on the train.

"Harry are you sure you're alright? You did just tell us you'd heard…" Hermione trailed off, glancing carefully at her dark-haired friend, who seemed intently focused on the floor. "That night. That can't have been…It must have been... Are you…?" She struggled to find the words to express her concern for the boy in front of her and looked pleadingly to Ron to help.

"It's not that we don't believe you, mate, it's just that it's a weird thing to hear your friend say he heard his mum screaming just now, when no one else heard it." Ron tried, eager to support his friend, but not quite sure where to go from there. "I, erm, guess we're lucky that the Professor was here to help out, yeah?"

A noncommittal noise made its way past Harry's lips as he brought his legs onto the compartment seat, folded his cloak to mimic a pillow, and laid his head down upon it. Hermione and Ron exchanged looks at this but said nothing for a few moments. Given what he'd just experienced, both students felt that their friend deserved some rest, as eager as they were to ask him a host of questions. Recognizing that they wouldn't be able to talk to Harry until later, Hermione pulled out her copy of the Daily Prophet to find the news section. Turning to Ron, she referenced the small notice in the paper about the new Defense professor's hiring, and quietly struck up conversation with her friend about him.

A half hour later, Harry was fast asleep on the compartment seat, a fact which Hermione noted before dutifully shifting her focus away from the Prophet and back to Ron.

"I'm worried about him," she murmured quietly, her eyes sliding over their friend's prone form. "Something was different about this summer, I think, but I can't tell what, and I know he won't tell us." She sighed before moving her eyes to meet Ron's. "You don't suppose you can figure it out, do you?"

Ron shook his head thoughtfully, before motioning to Harry's trunk. "Everything seems different this year, I reckon. We don't normally have dementors on the train, or mass-murderers on the loose, or…" he trailed off. "But you're right, something is off. He's never this quiet. I'll see what I can find out, but you're normally the one who's got some tact in these situations. Plus, you know what Harry's like, he won't tell us anything's wrong until he's half-dead."

At this, Hermione grimaced. "That's what I'm worried about, Ron. That's exactly what I'm worried about."

Later that night, Hermione was making her way back from Professor McGonagall's office, her hand clutching the small object in her pocket, when someone grabbed her and pulled her into an alcove, covering her mouth to prevent her from making noise.

"Relax, 'Mione, it's just me. Wanted to divert you before you ended up in the middle of George and my newest plot." The lanky redhead that stood before her offered up a grin before blushing apologetically at the look on her face that screamed both anxiety and frustration. "Sorry about that, by the way. Didn't mean to frighten you, just couldn't have you making any noise."

Hermione felt her heart rate slowing back to its normal pace but paused before responding. "You could've just said my name instead of pretending to kidnap me, you know," she began, reproach clear on her face. "I'm not exactly in the mood for a joke right now, things are…tense." She finished lamely, sighing deeply.

Fred gave her a once-over and noted the drawn shoulders, stiff back, and slight bruises beneath her eyes. "Merlin, woman, it's only day one. How much could you have possibly gotten up to already?" he poked her gently, eliciting a small smile, before her expression sobered.

"Harry was attacked on the train," she said quietly. Fred's eyes widened, and she sighed again. "And, well, I've got…a lot on my schedule this year."

At this Fred smirked. "I was wondering how you were planning on taking Ancient Runes and Divination. They're always during the same slot because no one ever wants to take them both. You wouldn't happen to have received a certain instrument that manipulates time and space from a particularly feline Transfiguration Professor, would you have?"

Hermione blanched, and looked frantically into Fred's eyes for only the second time since arriving in their hiding spot. "How did you…I haven't told…Nobody knows that…I was supposed to keep it…"

Fred placed a hand gently on her shoulder and guided her to a jutted out bench a bit further in the alcove.

"Hermione relax, breathe, come on now."

Hermione took a few deep breaths before looking at him curiously.

"That's it. I only guessed that because Percy, prat that he is, decided to tell us about the new program Dumbledore had talked about with him. Something about intrepid academic achievements and whatnot." He grinned at that. "That description does seem to fit you, though, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione blushed furiously before beginning to shiver, although whether it was from the chill or her nerves, she couldn't tell.

"D'you want my cloak?" he asked, smirking slightly at Hermione's shocked expression. She nodded shyly and he casually draped his cloak over her shoulders. It smells a bit like petrol, she thought. Petrol and…was that lavender? Well that certainly wasn't what she had expected. It was equally shocking and comforting, she noted, just like the man who it belonged to. Realizing she had been quiet for a while, Hermione looked up to meet the eyes of her friend, whose expression was curiously guarded as he appraised her. As she attempted to puzzle through that mystery, her day caught up to her and she let out a long yawn.

"C'mon now, 'Mione, time for you to get back to the dorms," Fred said gently, taking the girl's elbow and guiding her up to a standing position again. This action suddenly made Hermione realize how tired she really was, stumbling a bit as she got to her feet, she blushed again, but before she could comment on it, another yawn escaped her. Fred smiled and moved a bit closer to steady her while opening his mouth as if to say something, before pausing with yet another curious expression and turning back towards the corridor, with Hermione in tow.

The next time Fred saw Hermione, really saw her, that is, was eight weeks later when the brunette walked into the kitchens with an exhausted look on her face.

"You know," Fred started, "When whoever it was that said, 'attack each day' said to 'attack each day,' I don't think they meant to exhaust yourself, 'Mione."

Hermione blushed slightly at this comment as she pulled out a stool and ran a hand through her already thoroughly tousled hair.

"Yes well, not everyone is attacking each day with the amount of fervor I am, I expect," she muttered before unceremoniously plopping herself on the stool and requesting a butterbeer and some crackers from a nearby house-elf.

A strange expression flitted across the redhead's face, but was gone before Hermione could categorize it, replaced instead with a more usual cocked eyebrow and crooked grin. "Wicked thing, playing with time, isn't it?" Fred commented jokingly as Hermione sipped her mug of butterbeer. "Funny though, it always seems to catch up to you."

Hermione paused before pointedly changing the subject. "Fred," she mused, "Have you noticed anything…odd about Professor Lupin?"

Fred chewed on his crackers pensively for a moment, wracking his brain for any oddities. "Not off-hand, why do you ask?"

Hermione looked away and took another sip of her drink. "I'm not sure if I should say," she began, before seemingly making her mind up and turning fully to face Fred. "I think he's a werewolf."

Fred's eyebrows shot up. Well that was unexpected. "And, erm…What makes you say that, Mione?" he asked. The only werewolf he knew of was Fenrir Greyback, and with a reputation like that, he had developed a cautiousness—a rare concept for him—around the idea of them.

"It's just that…Oh I don't know, all the facts seem to add up that way! I certainly don't think he's a bad person, but why else would he be mysteriously ill at the start of term, and then again four weeks later, and this past week? Maybe he's off doing something else, something important, but it seems highly unlikely that Dumbledore would let him just…not teach his classes so frequently, don't you think?"

Fred, while certainly mulling over Hermione's words, had been more than a little captivated by the girl as she passionately gestured and was now snapped out of his trance by the onset of her question.

"Ehm, yeah, I suppose that's a bit odd, now that you mention it. He's one of the better Defense professors we've had though, I'll give him that. The lesson on boggarts was wicked, mine turned into—" He hastily replied, blinking a few times to clear his mind and grabbing another cracker.

"Oh honestly, do all you boys only ever think about food?" Hermione teased, her grin belying the true feelings beneath the words. "I suppose Dumbledore would know. And he certainly wouldn't have hired Professor Lupin if he thought he'd be a danger to the students…" she trailed off.

At this, Fred whipped his head around to face Hermione, "Speaking of things that are a danger to students, Mione, what in Merlin's name were dementors doing on the quidditch pitch? Leaving alone the damage to Harry's broom, and the fact that we lost the game, Harry could've died from that fall!"

Gazing at his friend's face, Fred saw concern seep into her expression, and not for the first time sat in awe at her capacity to hold her emotions in check while she was so obviously worried for her friends.

"I don't know, but I certainly don't like it. Dumbledore was livid, I heard, someone mentioned that him and the Minister had a heated discussion about it." She shuddered, remembering Harry's description of hearing his mother's scream. "It doesn't feel as safe as it used to."

Noticing Hermione's reaction, Fred shot her the most confident smile he could muster as an idea came to mind. "I think you could use a calming draught." He paused to move his stool closer to hers, before elaborating.

"I doubt Madame Pomfrey would deny you one, you know. You've got a lot on your plate, you know…What with the courses you're taking, the way Harry's been leaning on you and Ron and then, of course, there's all that funny business with the time-turner. She's certainly given them to students for less pressing issues."

Hermione looked away, towards the wall, the oven, the counter—anywhere to avoid Fred's gaze.

"Mione?" He began, a bit more concerned than before. "You know I don't think there's anything…wrong with you…right? I just…" He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

"You know how last year, you asked me if I thought my sister was behaving oddly? You noticed that she was more withdrawn than how you had heard her described by Ron and George and me, and you were right—something odd was happening." Fred stared Hermione down, despite her pointed avoidance of his eyes.

"I just want to make sure you're alright," he mumbled quietly. "That's all."

At this, Hermione's eyes finally rose to meet his. The pink coloring at the tips of his ears gave Fred an almost sheepish expression, but Hermione knew better than to think that the infamous prankster would be embarrassed in front of her.

"I'm fine, Fred," she intoned, "Really, I am. I need to get more sleep, certainly, but I'll be alright, I promise." Hermione grabbed a cracker and tossed it at him gently.

"Now tell me more about what you and George have up your sleeves for this year."

Harry Potter was sitting alone in the common room—a rarity for him— in late December when he heard the portrait swing open and two hushed voices drift towards him. Quickly shifting his chair away from the door so he couldn't be seen, he listened in on the end of the conversation where a familiar voice was finishing its commentary.

"It won't stay that way forever, you know. And if he tries to keep it up for too long, Forge and I'll write home and get it sorted out."

That'll be one of the twins, Harry thought, can't tell which though, if they didn't use those ridiculous nicknames, maybe—his thoughts were interrupted as a slightly shuddering sigh came from the second person. A very small-sounding voice spoke next.

"I just don't want him to hate me anymore—either of them! It's like first year all over again, when Ron said I was a menace and when I didn't have any friends and I wanted to leave all of this. I know he's upset about Scabbers, but I'd swear on my life that Crookshanks had nothing to do with that—he doesn't even eat mice!"

Jesus, that's Hermione, Harry realized with a shock. Before he could think any further about what that meant, she continued from behind him.

"And Harry—God, Fred, if Harry hates me too, then I've really got no one." Harry's eyebrows shot up at this, but in hearing the muffled "Oof" from the twin—Fred—behind him, he realized Fred must've made a face.

"I know I've still got you, but you know what I mean," Hermione finished sadly. "I was just as upset as Ron and you were about that Quidditch match—we all know how much flying means to Harry. I'd never try to stop him from doing something he loves—especially given what I've gathered about his situation at home, it just wouldn't be kind."

Harry's cheeks flushed slightly as he sat unseen in the armchair by the fire. I've never said anything about the Dursleys to her, or Ron. In fact, other than telling them about the bars on the window last year, I didn't think they knew much at all of what's gone on there. Silently filing that revelation for another time, he tuned back into his friend's rapidly quickening statement.

"It's just…there was no tag—nothing! And there's a mass murderer on the loose, one who has already broken into Hogwarts once, who's to say he wouldn't try again, but from a different angle? I just thought McGonagall should screen it, that's all. I didn't mean to—I just wanted to make sure he was—Oh Fred!" A sob escaped Hermione, and Harry winced.

"It'll all be alright, I'm sure of it. Harry doesn't seem the type to hold a grudge, and if he really thinks it appropriate to do so when you were trying to keep him safe, then he's the one with a problem here, not you." Fred replied, his voice seemingly muffled to Harry.

"I know you're right, I just can't help but feel nervous about it. I know they didn't mean it, but those first few weeks were so miserable, and I don't want to relive them all over again and have to—"

"Alright, breathe Mione," Fred interjected, somehow stifling Hermione's sobs while Harry cringed in his chair at her words. Resolving to reveal himself from his hiding place, Harry moved to place a foot on the floor when he was stopped by his friend's words.

"You're too kind to me, Fred."

A low chuckle echoed through the common area.

"Don't laugh at me, you know I mean it."

A pause.

"I'm serious! You've made me feel considerably better, even if Harry and your brother hate me."

"They don't hate you, Hermione, I've said that alrea—"

"I know, I know, you've said so already."

Harry could picture his friend waving her hand in that familiar, dismissive way, and for the first time in his eavesdropping, he cracked a grin. Another pregnant pause occurred before he heard Fred's voice again.

"Will you be alright for the evening? I mean, I know you're alright, I've said that a few times, but I was just wondering if you need anything else? Or if you need more company or a hot chocolate or something like that, then again, what am I saying, we did just come from the kitchens, so maybe not that exactly, but—"

Hermione cut off Fred's rambling with a giggle. "I think I'll be fine down here for a bit, Fred. I left some parchment down here earlier that I meant to pick up anyway. I'll just look those over before heading up to my dormitory." She paused, and Harry's eyes darted around before alighting on a pile of parchment with Hermione's handwriting on them. Shit. She's coming right over here.

Fred and Hermione must have parted ways during Harry's frantic attempt to concoct a story for why he was sitting there eavesdropping, but he didn't notice, and presently he found himself staring into the hardened gaze of one Hermione Granger before asking her to repeat her question.

"What are you doing here?" She repeated carefully, curious to discover exactly how much of her conversation with Fred was overheard. Harry flushed slightly, and then gestured towards the fire, settling on a half-truth for his friend.

"It was raining during practice today, and I wanted to sit by the fire to warm up, but then I fell asleep."

"You're telling me you've been asleep in front of the fire since dinner?" Hermione began skeptically, before continuing. "It's nearly midnight, Harry. Why didn't you go to bed?"

A softer expression made its way onto her face as she noted that her friend was, in fact, still wearing his slightly damp Quidditch robes. "Come on now, let's get you up to your dorm," she stated, tugging slightly on his sleeve.

Harry stopped her. "Hermione, I was actually wondering if we could talk."

Hermione froze, clearly not expecting that answer. Turning to face the fire, she responded. "Whatever about, Harry? I do believe you've said everything you needed to say."

Harry winced. He knew that his words to her earlier had been harsh, but at the time he had been a bit more focused on the fact that his newly received broomstick was being taken away from him. Ron's ire towards their friend certainly hadn't helped the matter, but Harry knew his own words hadn't been much kinder.

"S'not about that Hermione" Harry mumbled, and the girl in question turned to face him with a blank look on her face and a single raised eyebrow.

"It's not about that, Hermione," he repeated, blushing. "Well, I mean, it is—"

At this her eyes narrowed, and she began to turn back towards the fire.

"—But it's not in the way you think." Getting no response from his friend, he continued on.

"I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. I...wasn't really thinking straight because I had only just found out about what Black had done, and I was upset with you and Ron both for not telling me, and then you sort of…" he trailed off, grimacing, "stepped into the line of fire first."

Hermione turned to face Harry; her face blank as she gestured for him to continue.

"I know why you did what you did, and I'm not angry with you. I'm sorry for being a prat, you didn't deserve that."

Hermione's smile didn't reach her eyes, and Harry frowned.

"Do you want to sit down for a minute? We could…I dunno, talk?"

When Hermione didn't respond immediately, Harry backtracked.

"Or we could not do that too…You could just…grab your parchment like you told Fred and go up to your dormitory and we can just—" Harry froze, realizing he'd been caught in his lie as Hermione's eyes widened.

"Like I told Fred?" Hermione murmured quietly, "You heard us. You heard me." Her face reddened as she moved away from Harry and made towards the Girl's Dorms.

"Hermione, wait!" Harry abruptly stood from his chair and nearly fell over at the motion, catching her attention for a moment. She gazed at him with an inscrutable expression on her face before crossing her arms over her chest.

"I didn't mean to overhear your conversation, I swear. And I really would like to talk to you, if you've got the time." Harry said plaintively as he took a few steps towards his friend. Noticing her slightly nervous gaze, he continued.

"God, Hermione, I'm not going to bite. I just want to talk." The girl in question stood still for another moment before letting out a sigh, walking towards the couch, and settling against the corner.

"Thank you," Harry almost whispered as he seated himself next to her. "Aren't you…going to say anything?" He ventured carefully, not wanting to frustrate his friend further, but also sufficiently unnerved by her stoic silence and refusal to face him.

"You did say you wanted to talk, Harry. I made no such agreement," she stated coldly.

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically, before placing his hands on her shoulders and turning them so she faced him.

"Yes, I overheard the end of your conversation, but—" he paused at the clear anger that had flashed in her eyes, "to be fair, if you hadn't wanted to be overheard, you shouldn't have said those things in the common room."

An indignant look appeared on Hermione's face, and Harry quickly continued his thought in favor of delaying her irritated response.

"And anyhow, I really didn't mean to overhear it. I fell asleep in that chair hours ago, and had only just woken up when you two came in. I meant to get up and let you know I was there…"

At a skeptical glance from Hermione, he continued.

"Really, I did! But it just seemed like it was a private conversation and I…didn't want to interrupt." He paused again. "But you did say a few things that…I'd like to talk about, if you're willing."

Hermione scowled at him, but some of the anger seemed to have dissipated from her expression.

"Harry, you've said you'd 'like to talk' a number of times now, but thus far, you haven't really said anything of substance." She raised an eyebrow accusingly.

"Other than to apologize for listening in on my conversation, that is." Harry's face flushed, but he pressed on doggedly.

"I'm serious, Hermione. I know I was…" he fumbled to find a word, "A right git earlier today, and I'm sorry for that, but…doyouknowwhatitisthatyoujustsaid?"

The words came out in one fluid exhale, as if Harry had expected Hermione to stop him in the middle of their utterance. His face turned towards the fire again, and in his intent concentration on the flames, he nearly missed her whispered response as she leaned forward beside him.

"I do, Harry, and I meant it."

"Hermione?" Harry questioned, looking at his friend's face and for the first time recognizing how very tired she looked. Her hair had, at one point during the day, been pulled up into a bun behind her, but as the evening grew later more pieces had escaped, and she had a mildly disheveled look about her. As he glanced over the rest of her, Harry noted slight bags beneath her eyes, and an ink stain on the inside her right ring finger that seemed permanent—a fact he only realized as he remembered noticing it a few weeks prior in a charms class. His gaze lingered on her clasped hands and as he noticed a faint tremor, his heart clenched a bit. How did we not notice this? he wondered; she's working herself into exhaustion. Resolving to do better, he gently placed a hand on her forearm and waited for her explanation.

"You know that Ron and I didn't exactly hit it off first year," Hermione began, "Well, one night, after I heard him teasing me, I sat in the library area of the common room to do some homework, thinking that it would distract me enough from what he said."

She paused and pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear before sighing heavily.

"It didn't. The more I focused on the assignments set out for me, the more I heard Ron's words playing over in my head. I tried to focus, but I couldn't. I kept on bursting into tears at the thought of feeling so miserable forever in this new world and then would collect myself—only to catch some reminder of how much of an outsider I was and begin crying again. It was late, and by the time Fred and George walked in, I'd spent nearly three hours working on what should've been a simple charms assignment."

Harry watched his friend's face as she spoke, and for the second time in a matter of minutes was reminded that she wasn't as impassive as she often seemed. He always seemed to forget that they had similar upbringings—when one factored out the guardianship business—in the muggle world. She hadn't been exposed to magic the way Ron had, she grew up with the same sorts of kids that he did. But she knew what she was talking about from the moment you met her, his mind supplied. Harry suddenly had a vision of a younger Hermione, poring over every magical book she could get her hands on, begging her mum and dad to quiz her on the new concepts she had learned, and mumbling spell incantations lightly in her sleep. He smiled as the images tumbled forth, then frowned as he realized that knew exactly what his friend was going to say.

"Fred took me down to the kitchens and talked with me for a bit, and sometime when we were talking, I must've mentioned that I would prefer going home to staying here if it meant everyone was going to hate me." She swallowed awkwardly, looking more than a bit uncomfortable about the topic, but continued.

"We talked it through a bit, and obviously I'm still here, if, well…I mean, I wanted to stay, that much was never in question, I just didn't really think…" she trailed off, "I didn't really think that—"

"You fit in," Harry said resolutely as Hermione finished her phrase. He paused, and a rather forlorn expression appeared on his face.

"Hermione, you realize you weren't the only one to come from a muggle-born background first year? I know now that my parents were magical, but I had spent 11 years living without them. And then there's Seamus—well, he's half, but Dean grew up with his muggle mum! And I think there's another Hufflepuff in our year…Oh—Justin, he grew up in—"

"Harry, it was never a matter of being alone. I knew there were a few others like me, the thing was…you all seemed to bear the transition so well, and I took it so…so dreadfully! Think about it—there you were, becoming the youngest seeker in a century, Dean and Seamus were gearing up to be mates, and Justin was adjusting marvelously. Meanwhile I was being generally disliked by the entire first-year population for having read the material thoroughly because I didn't want to come in feeling years behind everyone else."

Harry stared at her incredulously. "No one hated you, Hermione, you had to know that." He paused. "Right?"

Hermione's avoidance of eye contact served as an answer. Harry felt a pang in his chest at the silent admission—he had known that Hermione didn't have many friends before coming to school, but he had never really conceptualized what that meant for her. A terrible thought bloomed in his mind—what if Hogwarts was the first time she thought she would make friends?—and his heart sank even further. He reached for her still-shaking, clasped hands and took one of them, his fingers intertwining with hers in a way that felt entirely natural.

"I—Hermione you didn't ever…You never mentioned any of this to me. Or to Ron!"

At the mention of their red-haired friend, Hermione bristled.

"Hey, I didn't say you were wrong for not telling him—I'm just saying you didn't. Hermione, you know that we're friends now, yeah?" Harry said solemnly. "You, Ron and me. We're a team."

"I don't know how accurate that is, Harry. You've seen the way he's looked at me lately—he's furious!"

Harry sighed, internally noting that he may need to have a conversation with Ron about his behavior.

"He's being a right git, I know. But you know he still cares about you—don't you remember the slugs last year?" Harry nudged her with a grin on his face. "I believe your commentary on the matter was that you had 'never seen something more atrocious than Ron's manner of putting food into his mouth, until that moment' or something along those lines."

Hermione did her best to suppress a chuckle. "You can't tell me it wasn't repulsive."

Harry squeezed her hand. "But you knew that he did that because he cared. He wanted to defend you from Malfoy—not that you need defending" he hastily added as Hermione sent him a friendly glare.

"I can't say I wouldn't punch the prat myself, if given the chance," Hermione muttered darkly. Harry mentally reminded himself not to get on her bad side as he loosened his grip on her hand and instead pulled her into a hug.

"All I'm saying is that we are your friends, regardless of whatever day-to-day circumstances get in the way. This'll blow over eventually, you and Ron will be on speaking terms again, and maybe then you'll believe me." Extending his arms out to look at his friend, Harry locked eyes with Hermione and gently squeezed her shoulders.

"In the meantime, I'm still here. I'll always be here—for the important things and the stupid ones…Like those end of term exams." He smirked at her outraged face.

"You—you're a prat, you know that?" Hermione said with a scowl as she gently punched her friend in the arm.

"Of course I know that, I've been told it's part of my charm." Harry winked and Hermione collapsed against the arm of the couch in a fit of giggles.

The two friends sat on the sofa for a while, talking and joking until the fire died down and yawns became as frequent as their laughs.

"Harry, we ought to go to bed—you're still in your Quidditch uniform for goodness' sake!"

Harry yawned as he nodded and stood up slowly, shaking his head slightly to conjure up some awareness before journeying up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

"Hey Hermione?" Harry questioned as his friend stood by the fire, gathering her parchment.

"I meant what I said earlier. We're your friends, and part of friendship is looking out for each other. We're here for you, no matter what, okay? Rain or shine."

Hermione's heart swelled with the tender feeling of being wanted, completely and utterly wanted. Jesus, she had missed Harry.

"Rain or shine," she said quietly in agreement, her lips turning up in a small grin as her friend walked up the stairs.

"Rain or shine."

A/N: So apparently, I'm a liar because I DEFINITELY didn't get this done before school started (sorry!). On the bright side, I graduated, so I'll hopefully be a bit freer to write for a bit—then again, maybe I should stop promising that (whoops).

To all the humans who have followed/favorited/reviewed in the waiting period, know that I appreciate you immensely. I know I'm a terrible person for leaving you all hanging, but schoolwork came first this semester.

Anyhow, hope you all enjoyed the start of year three! I really wanted to make sure that I emphasized the Harry/Hermione friendship in this, but I wasn't quite sure how I was going to do that…Until the idea for that little conversation at the end came to me and I decided to run with it. Total spur of the moment decision, but I hope it started to lay some of that groundwork—I always felt like Harry, Ron and Hermione really legitimized their friendships in POA, so this felt like a good place for Harry to not just notice Hermione, but to try and care about her well too.

All this to say, I hope you enjoyed. I swear I have more plans for this story, it's just hard to write sometimes. (I say this having spent a straight WEEK staring at the beginning of the kitchens conversation and not knowing where to go with it).

There are fun things coming though, okay? Trust me on that one? Cool. See you next time, when: Buckbeak actually enters the story, discoveries are made, attacks happen, and a certain redhead finally asks a certain brunette a certain question.