Ashes to Ashes (Harry Potter Fanfiction)

The Living Patronus

Hermione shook her head, trying to clear out the chill creeping through her nerves and into her mind. All of her insecurities, drawn out. Her jealousies, her sorrows, all drawn out into the light where she was forced to acknowledge them. Her breath came in sobs, and she had no will to stifle them. It was either cry, or stop breathing altogether.

Someone's hand slipped into hers in the dark, and Hermione clung to that small bit of heat.

"Lumos," said Professor R.J. Lupin, his voice firm. The light illuminated his face and defined all of his wrinkles, the gauntness withering him caricaturized. She had a moment- just a moment- to feel sorry for him before she was dragged back into the depths of her own mind.

She saw the skeletal hand pull up the window and swoop in, more liquid than solid. How could that be so? What kind of being was this? It brought the cold and despair with it, that was for sure, but what business did it have here with a group of Hogwarts students?

Where was Harry? Where there was trouble, she could usually count on him to be the cause, however unwillingly. Through the mist she saw him slumped against his seat, saw in slow motion that hooded figure turn to him and then turn away, saw-

Saw the compartment door slide open and a girl poke her head in. Saw her pull up short at the sight of the hooded figure and say, far too cheerfully, "Whose spell is that? That's some pretty advanced stuff- oh." Her voice sliced through the fog like lightning and reached Hermione's ears with no problems. "What's wrong? Something up with this... spectre? It doesn't look very dangerous, does it? It's just standing there. Floating. Whatever. Looks pretty insubstantial, too."

The girl strode forward easily with her hand outstretched, presumably to touch the figure. She never got the chance, though, because it shrank away in a fair approximation of fear. Hermione's head cleared.

"Is it afraid of me?" the girl asked, brow furrowed. She looked puzzled and sad, as if her cat had run from her and hid under the bed. "Is it an actual creature? Capable of emotion? Did one of you bring it with you? I don't think it's allowed in the castle, but it's really none of my business." She stepped even closer, and the figure fled out the still-open window.

Professor Lupin coughed and interrupted before the girl could apologize. "That was a Dementor, a dark creature who feeds on joy and souls. Did you not feel its effects?"

"What effects?" said the girl, looking genuinely confused.

"Sadness, cold, hopelessness?" Professor Lupin pressed. His voice was as sophisticated and smooth as the rest of him wasn't. He reminded Hermione of hearths and the dust on old books, wooden desks and spectacles.

The girl looked around, obviously trying to decide whether this was a joke or not. "No? Should I have?"

"By all theories, yes," said Lupin. 

The girl shrugged. "I can deal with that later. Are you all okay? If you're telling the truth then that sounds pretty rough. Oh, Potter, why are you still on the floor? Here, let me help you." She grasped at Harry's wrist and pulled him to his feet. Hermione blinked. She hadn't noticed him slide to the floor.

Harry furrowed his brow and settled back on the seat, his color not nearly as pallid as with everyone else. "Hermione, come touch her hand," he said. 

"Why in Merlin's name would I do that?" Hermione cried. 

"Just do it. Please."

Hermione stood on shaky legs and, with an apologetic look but not a request for permission at the girl, pressed two fingers to the back of her hand as if she were taking the girl's pulse. Warm spread through her rapidly, lending strength and clarity. "Merlin," she breathed. "You aren't kidding."

Seeming to get the gist, the girl laid her hand on Professor Lupin's. While his color improved, it didn't help his overall appearance very much. 

"Curious," said Professor Lupin. Hermione agreed.