"I guess it's true then. If she really loved me, she wouldn't have run away. Look at him." He thought as he turned to Harry. "He's lucky. Everyone loves him. I'm just Harry Potter's redheaded friend. The one with the shabby robes and tattered school supplies. Second hand in everything. Even life. Even friends." He looked up towards the stairs Hermione had disappeared up. " Even to her. Second. There is only one thing left, I guess." How much can one person take, before they are driven across the line?