Thank you everyone for the great response to the previous chapter! As promised, more Hermione.

For the majority of pupils, it was not long before their rough edges were smoothed enough for them all to fit into place. Tentative bonds formed between the houses even as the competition for house points soared and Quidditch tournaments began. Harry was one of the main links, free from the boundaries of each house but welcome in each one. People who would have never interacted met through him. In the first year common room, what had once been four distinctly-coloured clusters had become an intermingled mass of blues, reds and yellows, with the occasional green.

Harry was, dare he say it, truly content. It never bothered him now that he couldn't stay at the Lions' table. Ron was no longer his lifeline. Of course, he valued his first friend above all others, but Harry had a class at least twice a week with every single student at the school, and he was trying his best to know all of them.

When he did sit with Lions, he enjoyed the company of Ron and his mob of raucous friends (which included Neville), but he just as often sat with the third years, sandwiched between the cackling Weasley twins. At the Ravens' table, he flitted between the year groups, listening to debates and sometimes, if he was brave enough, contributing. On the Badgers' table, he commanded the attention and loyalty of the first and second years while a boy with copper hair and a charming grin did the same with the third years. How that boy managed to win the adoration of his peers without the persuasive title of "Chosen One" was something that Harry knew he would have to learn. At the Snakes', he avoided his own year on principle, sitting with Pucey, Shafiq and the other third years.

Lessons progressed at a brisk pace, leaving no room for students to get comfortable or complacent as they improved. As soon as they were doing well at Basic Physical Training, Professor Lupin was introduced into their training scheme as a hand-to-hand combat teacher. Extra sessions were put aside for first aid classes from Madame Pomfrey. As well as his standard lessons and the private sessions with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry also had some periods set aside for individual study and exercise. Harry didn't even consider relaxing. Instead, he threw himself into practising martial arts drills or gymnastics or solar sabre-play.

Third years, who got one free session a week, gradually learnt of Harry's practices and, instead of lazing around their common room, gravitated over to watch. Harry, while terribly embarrassed at first, came to tolerate it. And when they gingerly offered to take part, he began to duel with them and to teach them until he reached a point where he was no longer surprised when these older boys and girls rushed to meet his demands. Apart from the Snakes, of course, who sauntered instead with little smirks on their faces.

Yes, everything was falling into place. Everyone was forming a close circle of friends for themselves. Harry had never been happier. Hermione was disappointed all over again.

She had never found making friends easy. Watching everyone laugh and joke in the Great Hall wasn't fresh enough an experience for it to hurt deeply, but it ached a dull, prolonged ache that she was perfectly accustomed to. She really had tried this time. She had thought that, away from small town prejudices and the stigma her academic superiority created, she would finally be able to branch out, to be a new and wonderful person that everyone wanted to be around. But maybe it really was just her.

Glancing along the table, it wasn't the first time she wondered how all the other children had the secret. She was sure there had to be some sort of secret. Some formula to making friends that everyone knew apart from her. It was hard enough admitting that she didn't know something, but she could think of no other explanation. She sighed. They didn't know how blessed they were. They really didn't.

She got up to leave. She never stayed at the table to the end of dinner. It was never worth it. No one spoke to her, and when she tried to speak to them, they would shy away frantically. Walking along the aisle was the worst part. Usually, she managed to get a seat on the other side of the table, but occasionally she was forced to sit on the side flanking the Snakes'. She kept her head down as she scurried out, hoping that a particular group of Snakes wouldn't notice her.

'Look who's off by herself again.'

Keep walking, Hermione.

'Where're you off to, Granger?'

They'd moved to block her path. To look for a way out meant that she had to look up at them. The first year Snakes. The speaker was Malfoy, always Malfoy.

'Off to meet someone?' another suggested.

'Don't be ridiculous, Nott, you know she hasn't got any people to meet.'

They laughed, Hermione began to walk back the way she came.

'Where are you going, Granger?'

Hermione tried to shake it off. It was nothing personal. She was just another easy target, and Malfoy had a daily quota of teasing and humiliation to fill.

'Going to cry to someone?'

'Who would she cry to?'

'A teacher.'

'She loves teachers. Too bad they're the only ones who love her back.'

'Not even Saint Potter will talk to you.'

'He doesn't particularly like you either,' Hermione finally snapped.

She didn't know why he paled at this. Whatever the reason, Malfoy was truly angry now.

'You think you're so smart,' he said, loudly enough to draw the attention of all those around him. 'Too bad that's all you've got. What's the point of brains when you've got no friends? What's the point of brains when you've got buck teeth and scruffy hair? What's the point of brains when you're poor and insignificant? You are nothing, Granger. And no-one wants to be friends with nothing.'

Hermione almost crumpled on the spot. He was right, wasn't he? She looked around the room. No-one protested, they just looked at the both of them stonily. She couldn't face their hard stares any longer. She whipped her head the other way to see Harry Potter, standing up from his bench, deep green eyes wide as they gazed at her. She couldn't take their brilliance. She pushed past Malfoy and ran.

…

'Harry, where are you going?' Ron asked as Harry climbed off of the bench, his half-eaten dinner abandoned on the table.

'That girl, Hermione, she ran out. I-'

'Harry, it's probably fine. She was itching on everyone for being such a talk-all anyway.'

'Malfoy went too far, though.'

'Yeah, Malfoy was a real spit to her, but maybe she'll stop being so loud. Maybe he's done her good somehow.'

'We still should follow her, make sure she's ok. I have this bad feeling…'

'About what, com? Hogwarts Castle is completely safe, right? She's probably just gone to hide in a girls' toilet or something. That's what they usually do.'

'Yeah, I guess,' Harry said.

'C'mon, they've just put out some treacle tart. Your favourite, right?'

'Yeah.'

…

Hermione ran around the track until she was hot and sweaty. She didn't know how people like Harry could run for so long in such heat. She had overheard him once saying that exercise cleared his head. Some methods, she thought to herself, do not work for everyone.

She looked up and spied the forest. It was a dark mass on the horizon; the trees looked marvellously cool. She turned to her other side where the castle lay. She was beginning to hate that place. She didn't want to go back, not yet. Getting up cautiously, she made her way to the forest, faintly aware of the rules prohibiting student entrance. She was usually a stickler for the rules, but exhaustion and misery had a way of changing people.

…

'She's not in the Common Room, Ron.'

'Who? Wait, you're still thinking about Granger, Harry?'

'I don't like this, not at all.'

'She could be in her room.'

'With a bunch of roommates that she hates?'

'Huh?'

Things clicked into place. 'She hates it here. Why would she take refuge here? Why would she go and hide among the very people who shun her?' He wouldn't. He would get as far away from them as possible. Like at the funeral, with all those stifling people. He'd wanted to get away. He'd wanted space.

'We've got to find her.'

'Harry.'

'Now, Ron.'

Faced with blistering green eyes and Harry's fire, Ron had no choice but to submit. 'Ok, but when we find her crying in the toilet, you'll never get so nervy again.'

…

The forest was beautiful in the sunset, the trees and leaves embroidered with amber sunlight. It was so peaceful here. No people, just the unobtrusive sound of nature's bustling insects. She wished that she had brought a book to read in the ethereal, orange light. Something cracked behind her, too loudly to sound natural.

What was that?

Hermione fell away from the tree she was leaning against. There was something shifting in the distance. It wasn't human. It wasn't one of nature's bustling insects either.

…

'See, she's not out here,' Ron puffed.

He and Harry had run most of the floors in the castle before racing outside. They still hadn't seen hide or frizzed hair of Hermione Granger.

'I bet you she's in her dormitory,' Ron panted, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. 'I bet you.'

Harry was just about to give up when a spine-chilling scream emanated from the forest.

'Hermione!' he yelled, sprinting.

…

A Blast-Ended Skrewt? What was a Blast-Ended Skrewt doing in the forest? She pressed herself further against the tree as the scorpion-like creature herded her in with its monstrous claws. Another rustling to her left. Were there more? Who cared? She was going to die anyway. She would die here, right on the school grounds, and no-one would care.

'Hermione!' The shrubbery to her left waved violently as a figure pushed through them.

'Harry Potter?'

The boy saw her immediately, his countenance concerned but not overly surprised by the sight of the repulsive creature that entrapped her.

'Bloody hell! What is that thing?'

Ron Weasley emerged next, and Hermione's thoughts soured. She had never liked the ignorant, vulgar redhead.

'It's a Blast-Ended Skrewt,' Harry explained before Hermione could, much to her shock. 'They're thought to be distant relatives of the Whole Earth's scorpions, but they're native to this planet. They're usually found in large, open deserts with hostile climates.'

'Then what is it doing in this bloody forest?!'

'It's Hagrid's. He likes collecting…exotic pets.'

'And he keeps them here? I knew the man was dosed, ever since he tried to feed us those mortal rock cakes.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She couldn't imagine Ron rejecting any form of food.

'Don't badmouth Hagrid,' Harry said patiently, as if on automatic. 'And let's focus on this.'

'Right.' Ron nodded, determined expression somewhat counteracted by the pallor of his skin. 'How do we do this?'

'Well, I don't actually know how to ward off a Blast-Ended Skrewt.'

'Ward off? Just shoot it with your gun and be done with it!'

'I can't shoot it; it's Hagrid's pet.'

'Ok, yeah, right. So what do we do?'

Hermione decided that it was high time for her to speak up. 'When settlers first landed on ES-5, they faced a similar problem,' she said, trying to keep her voice level. 'Killing a Blast-Ended Skrewt only resulted in provoking the ire of its kin. The settlers needed to think of ways to deter the Skrewts peacefully.'

'M'god, she's like a walking netlink,' Ron said.

'Go on, Hermione,' Harry said, marking the creature with his gun but trying not to shoot.

'At,' she drew in a shaky breath as a claw swung dangerously close to her face, 'at a first glance. The – the Blast-Ended Skrewts had next to no vulnerabilities. Their thick armour repelled most types of firearms, their flexible stingers targeted bare human skin with pin-point accuracy, their suckers–'

'Hermione,' Ron interrupted, 'it's really impressive that you know all that, yeah? But could you tell us how to drive the thing off?'

'Oh, right.' Hermione mentally skimmed along the next few lines of the netbook she had read on native creatures. 'Um, their undersides are the only part of them not armoured. And their blasts–'

Ron and Harry looked to each other. 'Blasts?'

'Hermione, get away from there!'

The rear-end of the disgusting creature lit up, and Harry and Ron dove to the ground, just avoiding the scorching projectile that propelled the Skrewt forward into the tree. To Harry's relief, Hermione had ducked down and jumped away just in time.

'Over here, get over here,' Harry called, and she ran into him, a blubbering wreck as she clawed her way into his arms. She had forgotten that they were barely even acquaintances. Ron's incredulous look served to remind her, but Harry let her forget, patting her head and trying to be comforting.

'Harry, it's coming back!' Ron squeaked.

'I can't get its underside from this angle,' Harry said. 'Hermione, what do I do?'

Hermione pulled away, face fluorescent. 'Er…um…their blasts. The settlers fooled them with man-made blasts. The Skrewts thought that they were enemy males, claiming their territory.'

'Well,' Ron began, 'we don't have-'

'Good!' Harry said, adjusting the ammunition on his gun from bullets to solar blasts. He quickly aimed at the ground beneath the Blast-Ended Skrewt and fired. The beast reared up and away from the flames that it created, but Harry wasn't finished. He aimed next at the tree behind the Skrewt and this time, the ugly creature turned tail and ran.

Before Ron and Hermione could celebrate, Harry said: 'Quickly, help me put the fires out.'

They all ran forwards with handfuls of dirt and patted at the fires until they were extinguished. Only then did they collapse onto the forest floor, completely stunned.

McGonagall was waiting for them in the main hall, taking in their muddied and slightly singed appearances. Her glacial mien commanded an explanation as effectively as her next words did.

'Would someone like to tell me what exactly is going on here?' Harry was about to prepare a lie about training when McGonagall continued. 'And why I saw the three of you leaving the forbidden Hogwarts Forest past curfew.'

'Damn!' Ron cursed under his breath.

'It was my fault, Professor,' Hermione spoke up. Ron looked at her with blatant astonishment, but Harry managed to keep his face neutral.

'Your fault, Ms Granger?' McGonagall asked. 'How?'

'I – I was curious about what was in there, about why it was forbidden, and I thought that I would be smart enough to take care of myself. But I was wrong. There was a Blast-Ended Skrewt in there and – and I probably would have died if Harry…and Ron hadn't been there to save me. They scared it off before it could hurt me.'

'Well, it was a very foolish thing to do, Ms Granger. You were indeed lucky that these boys knew to come and find you. 10 points from Raven House.' Hermione nodded dejectedly. 'As for you, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, well done. 10 points to the Lions and 10 points to…' she looked down at Harry, flummoxed as to what to do, before saying: 'yes, well, aptly handled, Mr Potter. I suggest that you all pay a visit to the hospital wing.'

She strode off and Harry turned to Hermione, ready to thank her for (however rightly) shouldering all of the blame and (however wrongly) lying for them. It was too late, she was already running off.

'Are you as confused as I am right now?' Ron asked.

Harry simply nodded, and they went off to the hospital wing to get treatment for minor burns and singed hair. Hermione wasn't there.

In fact, according to visual sources, Hermione had run through the common room and straight into her dormitory. Harry, since he wasn't allowed anywhere near the girls' dormitories, could only listen to her roommates assurances that she hadn't flung herself from the window and avoid their inquiries into why he was so concerned. He didn't even know why. He just was.

He didn't see her again until the next morning, when he ventured over to the great basin to practise some flight manoeuvres. To his surprise, he found Hermione already there, sitting at the edge, not waiting for him, just thinking.

'Hello.'

Hermione, as he predicted, jumped, apologising profusely and preparing to leave.

'No, stay,' Harry said, sitting beside the spot she had just vacated and patting the ground next to him. The flight could wait.

'Why did you do it?' he asked, after she sank back to the ground.

'Do what?'

'Lie to a teacher. I thought that wasn't your typa thing.'

Hermione blushed furiously and stared at her knees. 'I didn't want you to get into trouble for saving me.'

'Why didn't you just tell her the truth?' When she didn't reply, he persisted. 'What was the truth? Why did you run off into the forest?'

'You…you saw what happened, with Draco Malfoy. Everyone saw. No one likes me here. I don't belong.'

'So you ran off into the forest?'

'I didn't want to stay in the castle!'

Harry glanced at her. 'I understand.'

'It's just…whenever I'm there, he always seems to find me. Malfoy. I tell myself that what he says isn't true, but it still gets me somewhere.'

Harry sighed. He understood that too. 'Malfoy, yeah. His insults are nowhere near as clever as he thinks they are.' Hermione chuckled at this. 'But he's very good at sniffing out insecurities in people. You've got to, I guess, you've got to know that your insecurities are all yours. Your mind creates them, and if you feed them enough, then they'll be true. Until then, it's your choice if they're the truth or not.'

'You're sort of wise, Harry,' Hermione muttered at her knees, face going even redder.

Harry blinked. 'Thank you. I just think a lot, that's all.'

'You've had a lot of reason to,' Hermione remarked, observing the darkening of his face. 'I never thanked you, for saving my life.'

'It wasn't just me.'

'Well, I suppose Ronald–'

'No. You, Hermione. You and your knowledge. You're smart, Hermione. Without your memory we would've all died.'

'All I do is memorise,' Hermione dismissed. 'It was your ability to turn facts into action that saved us. You have intuition.'

'I don't think either of us are going to win this argument,' Harry pointed out and Hermione laughed, unused to this situation. Laughing with someone else, as if with a friend.

'You didn't need to rescue me though, Harry. No-one would have cared.'

'No way, Hermione! Don't you dare say that. People would've cared. I would've cared.'

'Why? You never liked me.'

'I like you now,' Harry said, before scratching his pink neck. 'I mean, well, when you're not talking about facts all the time, you're pretty easy to talk to.'

Hermione didn't know what to say. 'I wish I'd had friends. Then I wouldn't be so gormless in front of Harry Potter.'

'I'm your friend, Hermione,' Harry said softly.

A dreadfully high noise managed to escape Hermione although her lips were clamped together. Before Harry could wonder how or why girls did this, she lunged forward and snared him in another hug. Laughing uncertainly, Harry wrapped his arms around her until she chose to let go. 'Thank you, thank you, I mean, um–'

'It's not a favour, Hermione. You don't have to say thank you.'

'I know, it's just that, well, I think you're the first friend I've ever had, so…' She trailed off, mortified. 'Forget I said that. You wouldn't understand anyway! I probably sounded really pathetic, didn't I?'

'No, I understand. I completely understand.'

Hermione had the grace not to let her mouth fall open very far. Harry was glad. He already had one Ron; he didn't need another. 'But you're…you're Harry Potter. Everyone loves you,' she admitted shyly.

'I didn't have a single friend for half of my life,' Harry said. 'I spent most of my days in hiding with my parents then here, alone in the castle apart from my teachers. I met Ron when I was six.' Harry smiled softly. 'He wasn't perfect: he said some grating things, he didn't fully understand me. But he was my first friend, and he stood by me, and I'm really grateful for him. You never forget your first friend.

'Even at Hogwarts, it took a while for me to make good friends, true friends. People who didn't hang around me to gain status or bragging rights. It took a while for them to see that I wasn't a walking title, you know? That I wasn't just the Chosen One, that I was Harry too.'

Hermione empathised. She always managed to build reputations up around her. The nethead, the teacher's pet, the scary genius girl. Beneath that she was Hermione, and people only had to reach out to her, just a little bit, to know. But they never did.

'Oh, Harry, but they see you now! They see that you're smart and witty and brave and loyal.'

'Slowly, yes.' Harry smiled. 'And they will for you too. I won't be your last, Hermione.'

'My last?'

'I may be your first friend, but I won't be your last.'

Their fingers met tentatively in the dusky grass, and those green eyes of his sparkled with promise. Her heart fluttered with something that she thought had been quelled weeks ago: hope.

…

Harry had been right. There were more friends out there. In the next week, Hermione reconciled with Neville, who much preferred her newer, humbler demeanour. Harry started a conversation with Padma Patil, Sue Li and Morag McDougall and drew her seamlessly in until they realised that her intellect was not a negative thing, but a key to more interesting conversation. She even managed to befriend her roommates, Hannah Abbot and Lisa Turpin, by herself although she steered clear of the two vindictive Snakes. Hermione sensed that she would never get along with pug-nosed Parkinson or vain Greengrass.

Whenever Harry visited the Ravens' table, he sought out Hermione, and she was always seen around the school outside lesson hours, walking the corridors with Harry and Ron. Ron, at first, found it difficult to adjust to this change, but they eventually learnt to at least tolerate each other. Soon the school began to view her as Harry's other best friend, and the small, select group that they operated in came to be called the "Golden Trio". Ron: the rapidly blooming tactical mastermind, Hermione: the brightest girl in her school and Harry: the sharp and formidably talented Chosen One. Some admired, others envied, Draco sneered whenever they passed. That was life at the Order of the Phoenix School. Harry wanted to say that he wouldn't change it for the Earth Settlements, but given the circumstances, he found it a bit inappropriate.

…

The next two years passed easily enough. The student population expanded substantially as new years came in but the older years didn't graduate. Harry had a lot more names to learn and a lot less time to give to everyone, although he tried. Out of the additional years, the year directly below him was the most active in snaring his attention. Ginny Weasley, who still had a planet-sized fixation with him, Colin Creevey, who had managed to found a Harry Potter fanclub right under his nose, and Luna Lovegood, an ethereal girl who floated about the castle, were the most notable students.

Harry, Ron and Hermione became closer as a trio, though Harry was constantly having to put up with the latter two's arguments, and Neville became Harry's partner for early morning training. Every leave period, Harry went back to the Burrow with Ron, Hermione occasionally leaving her parents and doing the same. The Longbottoms, after finally accepting Harry's (unnecessary) forgiveness, invited him over for dinner where he encountered Neville's fearsome grandmother.

The students became stronger, better, more competent. The school was succeeding. However, there was a persistent rumble, fronted by the Ministry, that refused to be quieted. It stated that Voldemort really wasn't returning and the Official Order of the Phoenix School was all a sham…

AN: And so the first arc finishes. The next arc will pick up in Harry's fourth year and will (probably) descend into moral darkness at some point. Won't that be fun?