Author's Note: Part two continues in third year.
***
Part 2 - Hermione's Boggart
"Ready, Hermione? One, two, three…"
"Riddikulus!" she shouted.
"Excellent! Good job," Professor Lupin praised.
Hermione merely frowned and dropped her wand arm with a sigh.
They were using the large History of Magic classroom which was just as stuffy empty as it was had Professor Binns been there droning on about goblin rebellions. (Not that Hermione would ever admit - and certainly not to Harry and Ron - that she thought Professor Binns "droned.")
"Do I get to try my spell on a real boggart now?" she asked.
Professor Lupin had not opened the suitcase with the boggart in it yet, and - truth be told - Hermione was feeling downright exasperated. So far she'd been casting her spell into mid-air, aiming at nothing more substantial than a speck of dust. How was she to know if it was working properly or not?
"Hermione," said Lupin. "Your form is very good. With any luck, you should dispel your boggart within a minute or two."
A minute or two? That couldn't possibly be right! Hermione was certain that even Neville had worked his spell in less than thirty seconds.
"Why do I need luck? I thought you said I was doing well," said Hermione, trying very hard not sound as impatient and irritated as she was feeling.
Lupin paused and looked at her, frowning for the first time all evening.
"I asked you before to think hard about what form your boggart might take on. Have you decided yet what it will be?"
Actually, she had thought on this for a long time and could come up with nothing worse than her fear of flying. Well - she was not afraid of flying itself exactly; she just wasn't very good at it. And if there was one thing that scared Hermione more than not being able to excel at something she tried, she certainly didn't know what it was…
But what sort of physical form that idea might take on, she didn't know.
Just as she was about to voice her opinion aloud, Lupin spoke up again, "We're going to take this very slowly. Okay? If I feel you're becoming more distressed than I would like, I will immediately intervene."
Hermione was thoroughly perplexed now. Professor Lupin was making absolutely no sense, and again she had the feeling he knew exactly what her boggart was going to be. Instead of unnerving her, however, this only made her more determined than ever to show him that she could do this.
"All right, then?"
She nodded.
Lupin released the lever on the suitcase and it snapped open with a loud click. Hermione held her breath in anticipation, poised and ready to work her spell - and confident that whatever emerged in front of her, she could handle it with all the strength she had in her.
That's why she was shocked when Harry's smiling face rose from within the suitcase, his head bobbing, his emerald eyes twinkling at her. As the rest of his body emerged, she saw that he was on his broomstick. He hovered above the table and then lapped the room twice, waving at her all the while, a grin never leaving his face.
Hermione looked at Lupin wondering if the whole thing was a joke, but his expression was very serious indeed.
As Harry swooped closer to her, his head still turned her way, Hermione gasped aloud. A bludger came winging behind him so fast; there was no time for him to react. Hermione tried to call out and warn him, but it was too late. The bludger slammed hard into his side, pitching him over his broom - and Harry was falling…
Hermione screamed as he hit the cold classroom floor with a loud thud.
Forgetting all about Lupin and the lesson, Hermione rushed to where Harry's body lay bent and twisted, his glasses lying broken next to him in a pool of blood that was steadily trickling from one corner of his mouth.
Gasping, Hermione's hands rose to her face in fright, her fingernails digging sharply where they contacted delicate skin.
He was bleeding so much! They had to get help!
"Hermione! Hermione, move!"
Lupin grabbed her by the shoulder. She tried to protest, not wanting to leave Harry's side, but Lupin pulled her away from him. Horror-struck, Hermione watched as Harry disappeared the moment Lupin stepped in front of her.
Crack!
A bright white orb took Harry's place, hanging in mid-air above the very spot where he had lain hurt, lain dying - Hermione thought in despair - just a moment ago.
"Riddikulus!"
The orb fell to the floor as a rat and scurried into the shadows.
Lupin waved his wand again and the rat flew into the suitcase, trapped once more within its leathery confines.
"We need him if we're going to continue this lesson," he said hastily, latching the suitcase closed and giving Hermione a moment to compose herself.
Shakily, she raised one hand to her head, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
"I don't understand," she muttered numbly. "My boggart was Harry?"
Harry hurt… Harry dying…
Hermione rounded on Lupin.
"You knew! You knew all along!"
Lupin eyed her warily.
"I guessed," he admitted.
Hermione shook her head, still trying to comprehend everything.
"But how?"
How could Lupin possibly have known something she herself had not realized until she had seen it with her own eyes? How could he have guessed something so… so personal?
"Because you told me," replied Lupin. "Or rather - you told Harry. That day in the hospital wing."
Hermione thought back and realized it was true. She had felt so terrible, so guilty about Harry's broken wrist. She had blamed herself for hurting him, for the whole stupid accident, when the truth was that she would do anything to keep him from being hurt.
She would stand by his side, fight You-Know-Who if need be…
Anything... to help him… to save him!
And not because the world needed him. Not because he was "the Boy Who Lived."
But because… she needed him! Because he was her best friend… Because…
She loved him!
Hermione looked up at Lupin, wide-eyed and startled at her realization.
He smiled down at her.
"I think we should continue this lesson another day," he said softly.
And when Hermione left the classroom, the first thing she did - upon finding Harry in the Gryffindor common room - was to give him a big hug.
***
"What was that for?"
Harry was looking at Hermione as though she'd lost her senses completely.
"Just because…"
She smiled at him, her arms resting lightly around his waist.
Her lessons had been going well the past few weeks and Professor Lupin had nothing but high praise for her defense skills. After that first dismal lesson, enlightening as it had been, Hermione had successfully learned to cope with her boggart - though she'd seen Harry hurt in more ways than she ever hoped to in reality - and had finally learned to control her fear.
If Harry were falling off his broom, he would now land in a pile of feathers or a large, wispy cloud; if he were being attacked by something - often a bludger and once a dragon - she would give him protective armor, though it came in odd forms: fluffy, pluming feathers, tough scales, and once - funnily enough - a cloak of marshmallows.
"Marshmallows?" Lupin had asked, quirking his eyebrows at her.
She had grinned and admitted that she had shared a cup of hot cocoa with Harry the previous evening and it was all she could think of at the time.
Harry was staring at her a bit uneasily now as her thoughts broke apart and she released him completely from her hug.
"You've been doing that a lot lately," he muttered, and Hermione thought for just a second that he was blushing.
"Let's just call it payback," she replied, "for all the weeks of silence from you and Ron."
Harry eyed her mysteriously.
"I haven't seen you pummeling him at every given opportunity."
Hermione gave him a teasing grin. "Oh, come on. You know you like it."
Harry raised an eyebrow, but smiled back at her, his green eyes shining just the tiniest bit, and it was enough for Hermione to grab him by the hand.
"Let's go for a walk," she said, tugging on his arm playfully.
"What has gotten into you lately?" asked Harry, but he allowed Hermione to pull him along the school grounds towards the lake.
When they reached the shoreline, Hermione stopped under an old beech tree and gazed out across the water. The Giant Squid was lazing in the sun, its long tentacles stretched out, trying to capture the rays falling down from the nearly cloudless sky.
Hermione turned and looked at Harry, noticing how bright his eyes appeared in the sunlight, how his glasses slipped down his nose every so often from the heat of the day, and how he had to push them up until they rested back in their proper place. His hands looked so strong and sure. His hair was gleaming and not as dark in the broad daylight as it was in the dimness of the common room or in the candlelit confines of the castle. It was blowing lightly in the breeze, revealing the scar on his forehead every now and then when the wind caught the black locks just right. It looked soft, as did his cheeks, which were slightly pink from their walk (or maybe it was because she was staring at him so unabashedly). His gaze was flitting back and forth between the lake and her eyes, and he was shuffling his feet a bit, too. She could see his chest rising and falling, steadily and evenly. He was solid and real standing before her. Everything about him breathed to her of life.
He was alive.
And Hermione had the sudden thought that she would do everything in her power to make sure he remained that way.
"I want you to promise me something," she said very seriously
"What's that?" asked Harry, eyeing her curiously.
She took a step closer to him.
"I want you to promise, no matter what happens, that you will always let me be by your side."
Harry didn't seem to understand what she was asking him.
"Hermione, you're my best friend. You and Ron -"
She held up a hand to hush his words.
"Yes - you and Ron are my best friends, but I'm not talking about that," she replied. "I'm talking about you letting me fight by your side, letting me be there even if you don't want me there."
"What are you talking about? I don't expect --"
"You would never ask this of me, I know," Hermione cut him off. "You have too much pride. And you care too much. I know you do. But Harry, I want to be there for you. I'm asking you."
He stared at her silently for a moment.
"I don't understand where is this coming from," said Harry at last, very quietly.
Hermione turned away from him and looked out across the lake again.
"Last year, I wasn't there," she said, thinking about how he'd had to fight the basilisk on his own, how he'd barely defeated the memory of Tom Riddle and saved Ginny from certain death. "I should have been there."
"But that wasn't your fault. Do I have to remind you where you were?" asked Harry.
Hermione conceded that it wasn't her fault for being laid up in the hospital wing, Petrified and useless.
Harry seemed to be following her train of thoughts, for he said, "Even though you weren't physically there, you were with me… er… us…"
His voice faltered for a moment.
"Hermione, you were still there. Ron and I never would have solved any of it without you. You know that, don't you?"
Hermione shrugged her shoulders, but his words touched a place deep within her - and she smiled.
"Harry," she continued after a moment, "I want to do more than that. There are circumstances we can't control - like what happened last year. I realize that. But I don't want you to ever think that you are alone in this. If there's any possible way on this earth for me to be by your side, then I want to be there. That's why I want you to promise me - no matter what - that you will allow me to stand by you. That you will let me do this for you."
Hermione held her breath, her brown eyes locked with his deep green ones.
He seemed to be weighing something heavily in mind, but finally he nodded.
"All right."
Harry nodded again.
"I promise," he said, and Hermione threw her arms around him again.
"As long as you promise to stop doing that all the time," said Harry, as soon as she pulled away from him.
Hermione grinned at him sheepishly.
Someday you'll feel differently, she thought, as they walked back toward the castle. But for now…
***
Hermione had just said her good-byes to Harry and Ron and was about to enter her Muggle Studies classroom for her very last exam of the year when Professor Lupin came charging up the marble staircase and stopped her by the doorway.
She didn't have to ask why he was cornering her. It was written all over his face.
Hermione sighed, her distress returning almost immediately along with the sense that she had just failed her teacher miserably.
Lupin ushered her away from the students milling the hallway and looked down at her with a frown.
"Now that Harry and Ron aren't around," he began quietly, "you can tell me what happened."
She thought back to her Defense Against the Dark Arts final exam, not wanting to relive it even for her professor, but she remembered the startled look on his face when she'd emerged screaming from the trunk with the boggart inside it and decided - after all the work he'd done in trying to help her - he deserved to know the truth.
"You did everything perfectly until the end," he prompted. "Our last few lessons went so well, I didn't think you'd have any problems with your boggart at all."
"I didn't think so either," she admitted sadly.
But then, all the other times, she'd been able to save Harry. This time…
She thought back to those horrible moments inside the trunk. She had expected to see Harry hurt as usual, but when she entered the final task of her exam, the boggart took on a form she had not expected.
Hermione looked up at Lupin, her eyes filling with tears.
"He was already dead," she choked softly, grateful that the hallway was nearly empty now so that the other students wouldn't see her crying.
The sight of Harry lying there lifeless had rocked her to the core. His skin had been so pale, his usually radiant hair dull. But worse than that… His eyes had been hollow and empty. The heart and soul of her friend, the laughing, smiling, living, breathing Harry had been gone.
"There was nothing I could do. It was too late."
She brushed a tear from her cheek, ashamed at both her failure to overcome the boggart Harry and her unusually weak display of emotion.
Lupin gazed at her in sympathy.
"I was afraid of something like this," he said. "I had a feeling more had scared you than Professor McGonagall."
Hermione managed a sheepish smile. She had not wanted to lie to him - or to Harry and Ron, for that matter. When she had come running from the trunk, the first person she had seen was Harry. (Harry - alive and breathing - thank Merlin!) She couldn't very well blurt out, "Poor Harry," as she had desperately wanted to say. Instead, she had stuttered at him the first thing that she could think of, recalling how Ron had said she was afraid of failure, of not being perfect.
Well, he hadn't been too far off, had he? But failing all of her classes and letting down her best friend were entirely different matters - and sadly, Hermione knew just which one would cause her more heartache.
"I didn't see this coming," said Lupin apologetically. "It had not happened before now, though I knew it was a possibility. I really did not expect it to come up on your exam."
"Why the change?" Hermione wondered aloud. "Why did my boggart suddenly alter its form? After all the other times? Why now?"
Lupin paused for moment, considering her question.
"Boggarts prey on people's fears. Your fear of something bad happening to Harry is a bit more complex than say - Ron's fear of spiders. The boggart will manifest itself to whatever it deems will scare its victim most. Turning into a spider is easy for a boggart. Turning into somebody dying is not so simple. That's why your boggart was, more often than not, a scene out of your head, a complex image of something bad you had already imagined happening to Harry. But perhaps, until now, you had only worried about Harry dying. Perhaps you had not followed your thoughts through to the point where you could actually picture him dead. But your fears - your thoughts in that trunk - must have been acute for the boggart to pick up on such a singular image."
Hermione considered his words - shuddering as she remembered the image of Harry's corpse - and frowned at the idea that somewhere in the past few weeks, her fears had obviously grown.
She thought back to the night Sirius Black had entered Gryffindor Tower. Had it been that night, she wondered, when her dreams had started - the ones where Harry was lying in bed, a man with a knife poised perilously above him, slicing his bed-hangings to shreds. She recalled sitting in a corner that night in the common room, not sleeping for fear of that man returning for Harry, remembered visiting Hagrid the next day, crying as she told him how scared she was for her friend and how she would never forgive herself for the weeks of silence between them had something terrible happened to him.
"I'm very sorry, Hermione," Lupin's voice cut into her thoughts. "I should have better prepared you."
"No," said Hermione, gazing up at her teacher and trying to shake those old memories from her head. It would do no good for her to dwell on them now.
"You have done nothing but try to help me. And I'm grateful for that. And so is Harry," she continued sincerely. "He can do a corporeal Patronus because of you. I saw it at the Quidditch match. It was amazing! And you were one of his parents' best friends. I know he appreciates just knowing you."
Lupin smiled down at her.
"Well, you'd better go or you'll be late for your next exam," he said, motioning toward her classroom. "And don't worry about your grade. It will still be higher than almost everyone else's in the class."
"Except Harry's?" she guessed.
He nodded, asking, "Do you think you can settle for less than perfect? Nine out of ten, perhaps?"
"I guess I'll have to, won't I?" replied Hermione, amused at his joke.
And after all, she thought seriously, it was certainly better than the alternative.
Hermione had set one foot inside her Muggle Studies classroom when Lupin added, "Harry is very lucky, you know - to have a friend like you. And one day, he'll see it. It took James over four years to notice Lily, and two more for him to catch her. Harry will realize one day that he has someone extraordinary in you, Hermione. I know he will."
Hermione was too young to understand everything Lupin was saying to her - and too embarrassed (and in denial) to admit that what he was implying was true - but her mood was considerably lightened and something close to a feeling of hope rose within her as she watched him walk away.
Smiling, Hermione entered her last exam, buoyed by her teacher's words, and quite certain that she was going to ace this one with flying colors.