Time for PoA! This is my favorite book, so it was really fun to write it! Thanks again for all the reviews, and I hope this is a lengthier, more descriptive chapter than the others :D I'm so sorry that this took forever to come up - school was particularly busy these weeks, so I didn't have much time to write.

Oh yeah, I also wanted to clear something up, because I realized this wasn't really mentioned beforehand. Okay, so first of all, this fanfic is made up of moments, and moments only. It's not a story by itself, it's just the little times here and there that fit into the main plot of the books. Second, line breaks signal the end of one moment and the beginning of other, while asterisks are just breaks within a moment...

Sorry if that was confusing but I needed to get that out there :P Well, enjoy!

Third Year

"I'll see you guys later!" Hermione called to Harry and Ron, who were playing Wizard Chess and took little notice of her. She didn't mind, really, as she'd given the excuse of going to the library but wasn't carrying her bag. This was because she simply wasn't going to the library.

The note had come on the third week back, telling her to meet him Saturday at the north edge of the Black Lake. She, of course, replied yes, since she hadn't so much as seen him at the Great Hall or passing through the corridors.

Now, as Hermione rushed down the flights of steps, taking shortcuts to save precious time, she couldn't help but smile at the prospect of seeing her Slytherin friend. Most of the times he was incredibly annoying, especially when he criticized Harry's Quidditch skills (something he did after every game Slytherin lost), but she liked how he wasn't what he seemed – she felt he was far more suited for Gryffindor than Slytherin. Not that she would ever tell him that was what she thought – he would probably never speak to her again.

She broke through the oak doors, grinning when the September wind hit her face. It was a beautiful day, and the weather couldn't describe her mood any better. Hermione jogged down the stone path, where she could see Hagrid's hut and considered paying a visit. She decided she'd make Montague go with her later, and strode across the lawn to the lake where she sat down, looking around for any sign of her friend.

"Granger."

Hermione jumped to her feet at the sound of his voice and said slightly irritably, "Do you have to sneak up on me like that?"

"Is that any way to greet a friend?" Montague retorted, but she could see a hint of a smile on his face.

"Well maybe I'd be nicer if it hadn't taken you three weeks to show yourself," she muttered, turning around to face the lake.

Truth was, she'd felt disappointed, hurt even, when she hadn't seen him the first week, angry the second, and betrayed the third. She had told herself that he was probably busy with studies, and that she should focus on her classes, but his presence lingered at the back of her mind and refused to leave. And then she'd gotten the note, had been renewed of hope and happiness and wonder, wonder at how he knew...

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned around.

"Happy birthday, Granger."

Hermione smiled. "How did you know?"

"I have my ways," he said, smirking at her. "Here." He tossed a messily wrapped package at her.

"Thanks." She caught it, startled. "But you didn't have to get me anything."

"It's your birthday, of course I did," he replied, shaking his head at her. She smiled again, but couldn't keep herself from thinking about how Harry and Ron hadn't even known it was her birthday in the first place...

Hermione tore off the wrapping paper and gasped in delight. No words could express the beauty of the sight in front of her: Beyond Hogwarts, A History. "I...How..? How did you even get this?!"

"Connections. Father's on good terms with the Minister, and the Minister is friends with the author."

"But it's only the most exclusive Wizarding book ever-! Most people don't even know about it!"

"Yes, well, I figured you'd like a copy."

"Thank you so much!" Hermione threw herself at him, surprising herself at her own bluntness.

"Erm. You're welcome." Montague said, awkwardly patting her shoulder. She pulled away and bit her lip in embarrassment. "Er. So where do you want to go?"

She brightened up at this, then turned and looked longingly at the book. Montague followed her eyes, and said, "Unless you want to read it now."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. The offer was certainly quite tempting, but she felt that she should spend the day with her friend - after all, she'd waited for this day ever since June.

"I'll read it later," she decided, tucking the beloved book under her arm. "Let's walk around the castle." She strode off through the grass, Montage trailing behind her.

"What happened to privacy, Little Miss 'I-Don't-Want-Anyone-To-See-Me-With-A-Slytherin'?"

"Everyone I know is probably inside," she said unconcernedly, skipping ahead.

He jogged alongside her. "What do you mean, inside? Aren't they probably looking for you? You're the birthday girl, after all."

Hermione glanced sideways at him. "Well, the thing is, they don't know today's my birthday. And no, I'm not going to tell them, they have enough to worry about without me adding to it," she added when he opened his mouth to retort.

He sighed exasperatedly. "Fine."

They walked in silence up the rocky path and stopped at the border between the castle and the grounds.

"Do you think we should visit Hagrid?" Hermione asked, too caught up to notice the horrified expression on Montague's face.

"Visit him? You want me to visit him?" His face contorted into a look of disgust.

"Come on, you've said he's not too bad!" She glared at him.

"Yes, well, that doesn't mean I can go and visit him!" He shook his head and muttered, "Honestly, Granger, we Slytherins would rather notvisit someone who sends us to go buy biting books..."

She huffed. "Fine, then. If you won't go, I will." She started making her way to Hagrid's hut.

"Granger, come back here! Don't make me- oh, Merlin." Montague ran in front of her, walking backwards. "We could do so many other things on your birthday. How about Quidditch? We could explore the castle. Read books? That's what you like, right? Come on, Granger, you wouldn't make me do this, would you?"

"I would," she said indifferently, shoving him out of her way. "And I'm absolutely forcing you to come along with me."

He scoffed, blocking her way down the path. "You can't force me."

Hermione drew out her wand from her pocket. "Move, or I'll hex you."

"Hex me, I'll take points from Gryffindor."

She gaped at him, then quickly shut her mouth. "You can't do that."

"Can't I?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and pulled out a badge from his Muggle jeans. "Better check your facts, because last time I read Hogwarts, A History, Prefects can, actually, take points from houses."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the silver and green badge that said "Prefect"on it in gleaming letters. "Nobody in their right mind would make you a prefect."

Montague laughed. "Well some say Dumbledore's off his rocker, so I suppose that's right."

She stared at him. "You're prefect."

"I am."

She slowly stuck her wand back in her pocket, staring suspiciously at the badge.

"I'm offended, really," Montage said teasingly, "that you've never thought of me being prefect. I'm fifth year, after all, fourth in my class and on the Quidditch team. I'd say I've had a good chance at prefect."

Hermione looked at him, and said in a slightly worried voice, "Now I simply have to be prefect when I'm a fifth year..."

He glanced at her incredulously. "Granger. You're going to be prefect."

"How can you be sure?" she all but whispered.

He moaned torturously and started to pace in front of her. "You're the smartest witch your year, and probably would be for mine as well. All the teachers, with the exception of Snape, use you as the perfect model, and even he doesn't criticize you, on the account of the fact there's nothing to criticize you on, and how many classes are you taking?"

"Twelve."

"Twelve. That's right, you're a third year, and you're taking twelveclasses," Montague ranted, sounding slightly hysterical. He paused in his tracks. "Granger. At this rate, you could've become a prefect your first year."

Hermione smiled, her spirits renewed. "Let's get going to Hagrid's," she said happily, pushing him to the side.

"Oh. Right."

As they picked their way through the path, Montague stopped her once more. "Say, how are you taking twelve classes anyway? There's not enough time to..."

Hermione's eyes widened and she desperately racked her brain for a believable story. "Er. I just hurry along my way from class to class..." She felt the cool glass of the Timeturner on her chest beneath her clothes. Lately, she'd been feeling more stressed than ever with the glass hanging on her neck, and it felt more like a burden than a privilege to carry around.

"But it doesn't make sense, the way our timetables work, you wouldn't be able to finish the classes on time."

"Would you look at that," Hermione said quickly, her heart hammering in fear, "we're already here!" She rapped on the door, praying Hagrid was inside.

Thankfully, the door opened before Montague could question her any longer.

"Hermione! I was jus' thinkin' to visit yeh for yer bir'day!" said Hagrid, beckoning her inside with Fang at her heels. "Harry an' Ron'll be inside, eh? Who's this lad here?"

"Oh, that's Graham Montague," provided Hermione, as the said person seemed unable to speak as he walked into the hut. Hagrid closed the door and went to the kettle.

"Montague, eh? Aren' yeh a Slytherin?"

She sat down at the table and placed down her book. Montague took his place across from her, a slightly horrified look on his face.

"Yes, he's a Slytherin, and he's a fifth year."

Hagrid peered at him as he poured their tea. "An' what're you doin' with a Slytherin, eh, Hermione?"

"We're friends," she said shortly, accepting her mug of tea, and added, "Thanks."

"Harry an' Ron know abou' him?"

"Well, no," she replied slowly, glancing over at Montague to see if he wanted to speak for himself. But as his face was still glazed over as if he couldn't believe he was having tea at Hagrid's, she decided it was best he kept quiet, lest he insult Hagrid in the spur of the moment.

Hagrid looked at Hermione, who sipped her tea nervously. He was the first person she'd told about her Slytherin friend - would he disapprove, or worse, tell Harry and Ron?

"It's unheard o' bu' I trust yer judgemen', Hermione," said Hagrid, his eyes beaming down on her.

"Thanks, Hagrid," she said warmly, sincerely meaning it.

"Er, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered, leaning closely to her. "Does 'e talk?"

Hermione laughed. "Normally," she said, not bothering to keep quiet, "he talks non-stop, but I suppose he must be terrified of Fang."

He glared daggers at her from across the table. "Shut it, Granger."

"What are you going to do, take points away?" she teased.

He scowled. "I very well could."

Hagrid watched their exchange amusedly. "How long've yeh've known each other?"

"Since first year," said Hermione. "We met in the library."

"So you're a book person, eh?" Hagrid directed at Montague.

"Er," he said brilliantly, looking startled at being addressed. "More Quidditch, actually."

"He's on the Quidditch team," Hermione added.

Montague jolted up from his seat, glancing frantically at Hagrid's clock. "Speaking of Quidditch, I think I'm late for the first Quidditch practice of the year."

Hermione stood up as well, picking up her beloved book with her. "Harry and Ron will probably be wondering where I am, too," she said apologetically.

Hagrid walked to the door and opened it for them. The two walked out and turned to Hagrid.

"Thanks for the tea, Hagrid!" said Hermione cheerfully, and nudged Montague.

"Thanks," he said quickly, rubbing his arm.

"Yeh're welcome, come an' visit me anytime," Hagrid replied, his eyes crinkled in warmth. He added quietly, whispering to Hermione, "An' I won' tell Harry an' Ron."

She grinned. "Thank you."

She and Montague started up the path, the former waving down at the gamekeeper.

"It wasn't that bad, right?" Hermione commented.

He glanced at her. "Not quite as torturous as I thought."

She smiled. "Exactly."

"Blimey."

"It's better than I imagined."

"And I thought Fred and George were kidding, but.."

Hermione and Ron were two among the many third years who stood at the Hogsmeade gate, gazing in admiration all around them.

"If only Harry could see this," Hermione breathed. Ron nodded in agreement.

"Let's go," she said happily, grabbing Ron's arm and pulled him behind her.

As they made their way down the row of shops, Hermione suddenly stopped in wonder, and sent Ron crashing into her.

"What'd you do that for?" Ron asked grumpily. Hermione only pointed up in response.

"It's a quill shop," she whispered.

"Oh, Merlin," Ron complained. "Not even five minutes into Hogsmeade."

"I'll be out really quick," she promised, then raced into the store.

It was even better inside than out. Quills of all colors, of all sizes and durability, and the smell of parchment lingering in the air. Ink bottles, books, all the things Hermione loved. She marveled over a black quill, laughed when she saw the peacock quill that so reminded her of Professor Lockhart, and entertained herself with the books.

She was immersed in a book about quills in the making when she was quite rudely interrupted.

"Well, well, well. Look who's decided to taint the shop with their dirty blood."

Hermione gritted her teeth in annoyance and left the aisle to the display of quills. "Hello to you as well, Malfoy."

He followed her. "Where's Potty and the Weasel? Too repulsed by you to be your bodyguards?" Malfoy sneered.

"Seeing as your own escorts are not present," she said sweetly, selecting a durable quill from the array, "maybe you should speak for yourself." Hermione turned towards the register, while taking out both her wand and her pocket money. But before she could get any further, a vice-like grip was forced upon her wrist.

"I'd watch it if I were you... Mudblood."

Before Hermione could even react, she heard a sickening crack, Malfoy crying out in pain, and the grip on her hand slackened. She turned around and gasped. Malfoy was on the floor, clutching his bleeding nose, and her savior stood menacingly over him, his hand balled in a fist.

"That," said Montague calmly, "was for calling her a Mudblood."

He yanked Malfoy up to his wobbly feet, and thrust his wand at his face. "Episkey," he muttered. "And that," Montague declared, pushing Malfoy away from him, "was so I trust you won't go running to tell anyone about this."

Malfoy nodded his head vigorously and ran out of the shop. Hermione heard a faint "Oi!" that she reckoned came from Ron.

Hermione smiled at her friend, who was staring distastefully after Malfoy. "Thanks," she said, rubbing her wrist. "Remarkable timing, too."

Montague tore his eyes from the door. "Well, actually, I saw you come in here first, then that little git there came in a few minutes afterward. When neither of you came out, I decided to take a look."

She grinned, and went to purchase her quill. "I have to admit, I've never seen Malfoy looking more scared."

He scoffed. "Only because my father intimidates his." As they approached the door, he stopped her and said, "You go out first. Weasley's out there waiting, so it'll look suspicious if we go out the same time."

"Okay," she agreed. "See you around?"

"See you, Granger."

Hermione collapsed on the floor and gasped for breath, tears streaming down her face. Her hair clung to her forehead, slick with sweat, and her arms were shaking so badly, they could hardly support her.

A fresh wave of tears submerged her as she recalled the fiery eyes of boggart Harry and Ron as they yelled at her, as they were yelling at her now...

She'd come to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room to talk to Professor Lupin about their homework assignment, but when she got there, the door was unlocked and there was no one inside. Telling herself Professor Lupin would probably be within the room somewhere, Hermione cautiously walked into the classroom, yet still didn't see any sign of the professor. It was then that she decided her question could wait, and was just about to exit the classroom when she saw the boggart.

The case was propped up against the wall, the doors completely closed. She had stepped up to it, had felt the edges of the hinged sides, and had fingered the handle many times until she decided to open it.

It was really curiosity that killed the cat (although she didn't prefer it to be "the cat", seeing as she had one). Hermione had anxiously awaited her turn during that particular DADA lesson, and had been sorely disappointed when both she and Harry did not get a chance at the boggart. So naturally, thinking of how she could practice the spell firsthand, Hermione decided to take her chances, and opened the case.

Within ten seconds into her boggart's form of her worst fear, Hermione had dropped her wand and stood in front of her boggart, crying in agony and despair.

She imagined her boggart to take the form of something to do with studies, such as what Ron had said about failing one of her tests. She never expected it to be about her friends, and she certainly did not have an inkling her worst fear included Graham Montague.

However, the instant the boggart was released, it turned into three people: Harry, Ron, and Montague. With every word they spoke, their voices, echoed in her head... shouts of betrayal, of incredulity, of knowledge. Her head pounded just from hearing them, but what really bothered her was their eyes. Their eyes were of hatred, and of deepest loathing. Their eyes glared into her, pierced into her soul.

Hermione Granger couldn't stand it anymore. She slumped down to the floor and disappeared into a world of black, boggart Harry and Ron still screaming into her ears.

Remus Lupin had watched many cry, scream, and shout when presented with their worst fear, but he had never seen a student, or anyone, faint from a boggart. He'd been standing shell-shocked at seeing third year Hermione Granger in front of a boggart that stood as Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Graham Montague. He didn't have the slightest notion as to why the fifth year Slytherin would be incorporated into the third year's greatest fear, but either way, the scene was absolutely horrific even to his eyes.

Now, Remus surged up to help the girl, banishing the boggart himself when it turned into the pale, full moon. He lifted her up and propped her into a chair, where he made sure she wasn't physically damaged, then left in search of chocolate.

When he came back, Hermione was just stirring. "Profess - Professor Lupin?" she murmured.

"Eat. It'll help." He broke off a piece of chocolate for her, which she nibbled timidly.

"Ooh," she said as the warmth of the candy coursed through her veins. "Thank you."

"No problem," Lupin responded, watching her carefully.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione spoke up quietly. "I'm sorry that I-I used the boggart. I just thought that I c-could take it on by myself, I never imagined it would be so- so horrible."

"Sometimes it's like that," he replied, frowning slightly.

"I j-just never thought he'dbe part of m-my worst fear."

"Graham Montague, you mean?"

"Yes."

Hermione stood up, wiping the last of her tears away. "I had a question," she said, "about our assignment."

"Of course," Lupin nodded, standing up as well, yet was completely lost in his thoughts as he helped Hermione.

It was half an hour after Miss Granger had left, but Remus was still pondering over her boggart. He had been shocked to find out Montague had been part of her worst fear, and even more so to realize that the girl was actually friendswith the Slytherin.

He'd come to this conclusion by the few seconds he'd seen the boggart, and by the secrecy that was unveiled at the moment he mentioned names.

But curious, curious. Remus hadn't thought much of it at all, when he'd seen the girl with bushy hair lying on the ground when he'd had fifth years review with the boggart. He only focused on how the older Slytherins' fears were dark - most of them including Lord Voldemort himself.

Remus sighed. Perhaps he should tell Dumbledore, or advise Harry and Ron to be kinder to Hermione. But how strange that he be reminded of a certain red-haired woman now, in the form of Hermione Granger: Lily Potter. He remembered that one day she confided in him, back in seventh year, when she was just Lily Evans dating James Potter. She had told him what everyone already knew - she and Severus Snape were friends. But Lily had gone even further than that. She'd told him she was scared - scared she and Snape wouldn't be friends anymore because of James, scared. He hadn't understood her, not really, but at last, he did.

He stood up, and knew he would not tell Dumbledore of his findings, and least of all, talk to Harry and Ron about it.

No, Remus Lupin would let this generation's Lily and Snape go on in peace if it was the last thing he did.

"I can't believe them!" Hermione seethed angrily, slamming her book bag down onto the table and sat violently onto the chair.

"Mhm" came the helpful response from the person she currently felt was her only best friend.

"It could help for them to be a little more open-minded - the only reason I turned in the Firebolt was because you never know what can happen when you're sent a perfectly expensive gift with no trace of a name on it!"

"Well, I support you," he replied lazily, "seeing as if you hadn't, the Gryffindor team would have gotten yet another advantage on their side."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Montague leaned closely to her. "Maybe I would if I hadn't heard this a million times already."

"Well it's not my fault they keep on ignoring me everywhere I go, and act like I don't exist. I have them, classes, homework, you, the Weasley twins, and then there's the whole deal with my Timeturner-"

Hermione stopped abruptly in horror and whispered, "I shouldn't have said that, right?"

"A Timeturner? Granger, you've got yourself a Timeturner?" He stared at her in astonishment and glee. "You're more daredevil than I thought!"

"Merlin, I've got to add being expelled to my list," she murmured faintly, ignoring him completely while envisioning herself being banished from Hogwarts for letting it spill she had a strictly Ministry-used item with her at school.

"Don't worry, I won't tell a soul," promised Montague, who looked as if his birthday had come early.

"You better not," she growled.

"I wouldn't!"

"You sound like Harry and Ron."

"Oh thanks, Granger, because I've always wanted to sound like Potter and Weasley." She didn't reply to this, and only stared ahead blankly. "Granger? Granger? …Granger, are you crying?"

Hermione shook her head desperately, but almost simultaneously started to sob quietly into her hands. "I-it's just that I-I c-can't even t-talk to them because th-they're so m-mad at me, but I was only tr-trying to help, b-because th-there's all the w-warnings about B-black trying to k-kill Harry, and this is the only w-way I could h-help him, other than g-give them my homework to c-copy, and now they're m-mad at me and I d-don't know w-what to do!"

Her shoulders shook as all the pain and tears she'd held back were released into the open. How could Harry and Ron do this to her? Wasn't she their best friend?

Hermione felt a hand touch her shoulder, and took her face out of her hands. Her eyes met Montague's as he said quietly and comfortingly, "Hey. Don't worry. They'll realize what an amazing friend you are when they stop being such idiots. Here." He stood up and pulled her up as well, then slung her bag on his shoulder. "Let's go for a walk."

"Okay," she sniffled.

As they exited the library, she stopped him, clearing her face of tears. "Thank you."

"No need. That's what friends are for."

Hermione smiled. He was right. Harry and Ron would talk to her again. She was overreacting, when she could forget about them and spend precious time with Montague.

She mentally nodded to herself. Her two Gryffindor friends wouldn't talk to her, but she would always still have her Slytherin friend to confide in.

I'd like to ask for all of you readers' opinion on something, since I can't decide for myself: Should I have them start to call each other by first name (Hermione/Graham)? I wasn't sure whether to or not, because first of all, I think that calling him Graham might be weird, since everywhere else, he's been addressed as Montague. On the other hand, the two are getting closer to each other, so it would be rather odd to have them call each other by surname..

Please review if you can, on whether they should be on a first name basis or last name basis! Any and all reviews are appreciated! :D