It wasn't until later, when Harry blew up almost half of what used to be the infamous forbidden floor that Hermione realized what exactly she had been dealing with, but from the first time they met, something about the famous Boy-Who-Lived had always been bothering her.

Harry was full of bland polite smiles, sugar-coated words, and penetrating gazes. Looking at him, Hermione always had the impression it wasn't really Harry Potter that she were looking at.

And now, looking at Harry crouching on the floor, looking dazed but othwerwise healthy and fine, Hermione shared a glance with Ron and agreed wordlessly that they would keep this as their secret.

It wasn't like they could abandon him. Not after looking at his curled form, hiding like a child he was.

"Harry?" Ron called carefully.

There was a noticeable shiver running through Harry's body, but when he turned around to face them, he was already back wearing his fake smiles.

"Yeah?"

And in that moment, Hermione didn't see the Boy-Who-Lived at all. She just saw an empty shell. Perhaps, Harry Potter never really existed in the first place.

Or, maybe, he was hiding somewhere behind the mask.

Hermione took a step closer cautiously and when Harry didn't show any respond, still smiling like a pretty doll, she ran to his side and tackled him into a hug.

"It's okay, Harry," Hermioned said. "We can fix this."

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Ron eyeing the grusome piles of meat scattered on the floor. He didn't look scared or disgusted, though he did look pale and shaken up. And yet, in his face, Hermione could only see a grim determination.

It was probably the same feeling a soldier had before they marched into a battlefield.

"We'll fix this," Hermione said again.

.

.

"I heard he can't use his magic at all."

"Is he a squib?"

"No, he might be a muggle."

"Don't be stupid. A mere muggle can't kill the Dark Lord."

"There must be a mistake somewhere then. That kid can't be the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Do you think he might have lied to everyone about it?"

Some people, Hermione thought with barely controlled venomosity, really are jerks.

Ron was scribbling furiously into his note, his ears red. In contrast to his two best friend, Harry looked almost serene. He had given up hours ago to levitate his book but he still swung his wand around like a new-born baby playing with their new toy.

Hermione sighed. Some of these days, she felt like Harry would blend with the wall and completely disappear. Catching her sigh, Ron turned his face at her then winked. He nudged Harry closer, showing the book in his hand. Whatever Ron showed him, it worked nicely as Harry's empty gaze replaced by intrigued look. At least, like this, Hermione could easily got convinced that Harry was real, and not some moving made-up doll.

They had a theory. It seemed the Obscurus would go berserk if Harry let out too much emotion, so that was why he had been constantly wearing a mask and not showing his true self. But it didn't mean he wasn't allowed to feel happy.

So, for the past weeks, Hermione tried to come up a way to make Harry feel happy without risking their lives, Ron tried to coached him into expressing himself more without blowing up another floor, and Harry tried really slowly to trust what they were doing.

Inside, Hermione felt like her heart shattered completely.

Harry had probably gotten so used to repress his emotion that he probaby forgot how to feel... human.

A sob escaped her mouth. Hermione quickly sniffled it into a cough. Damn. She really need to stop crying every few hours.

.

.

They were learning. There were accidents and things that went out of control, but they were learning pretty fast. Hermione felt very proud actually. She read everything on library about Obscurus and did it secretly so that no one would be suspicious while Ron looked for any information he could find.

"What is it that you scared of the most, Harry?" Hermione asked, flipping the pages of the book on her hand.

Ron who was reading some old newspaper snapped his face at them curiously.

Harry frowned, his fingers playing with his quill. "I am not sure. Why would you ask?"

She shut the book close. "No reason."

.

.

She found the answer months later. It was too late, however, when she found Harry trembling and hugging his knees in the dark empty classroom. The next day, two seniors who had locked Harry on the empty classroom as a supposedly harmless prank got sent to St. Mungo and both Hermione and Ron couldn't even pretend to sympathize for the losers.

But they couldn't keep going on like this.

Ron had always been the type to use strenght as solution so the next time Malfoy said something mean and disrespectful, Ron casted a spell on him which made whatever he said rhymed like poems for a whole week. It was a creative spell he learned from Fred and George (she didn't want to know where they learned it from) which greatly reduced their house point, but it was effective.

"They should be thanking us," Ron said, stabbing his pie with murderous look on his eyes. "We're not protecting Harry from them. We're protecting them from Harry."

"But we're not doing this for their sake," Hermione said, feeling tired.

Ron didn't say anything.

.

.

They were doing so well.

Then You-Know-Who just had to show up and destroy almost a year's worth of progress.

It felt like deja vu when Hermione woke up and saw Harry crouching on the floor, hugging his knees. He looked fine but a look at the empty gaze and the trembling hands quickly alerted Hermione that things weren't fine at all.

She hugged Harry, just like that day, when she first found out what his best friend actually was. And Ron was there too, examining his surrounding with dark eyes promising pain.

"It's okay, Harry," she whispered. "We can fix this."

It was the sight of Harry smiling up at her-not crying, he never cried, not even that one time when a three-headed beast literally mutilated itself in front of him-that completely shattered Hermione's heart yet again. Squeezing him into her embrace, Hermione was afraid it would become a pattern.

In this moment, You-Know-Who and Dumbledore's plan were the last thing she was concerned of.

.

.

"Let's have a sleepover at my home this summer," Ron, the wonderful and brave Ron said, his hand holding Harry's determinedly. Hermione grinned at him, feeling so happy that her heart squeezing painfully.

Harry blinked. Then, very slowly, he replied, "Okay."

When Harry truly smiled, it felt like the whole world smiled too.

It was because of moments like these-the glimpses of bright future and shunshine and rainbow and everything bright in the world-that Hermione honestly couldn't bring herself to regret meeting Harry.

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