The seventeenth year of his life was the year that Harry Potter had his life figured out for the first time ever. That year was the year Lupin returned to Hogwarts as the Defense master, and Snape…well, Snape was still there, sadly. That was the year that Sirius' name was cleared, and that he moved back into Hogsmeade. That was the year that Harry realized that girlfriends weren't really important, and that Hermione was the only female he really needed. He even stopped looking at girls as they passed. He was just glad he didn't have to worry about Voldemort: he had killed him in the third year. But he had had to deal with Ginny…he really only saw her as a little sister, and she was desperate to be more than that to him. And Cho was messed up beyond help…she saw visions of Cedric everywhere, after he had died from falling off a broom when he went out flying at night alone after a fight he had had with Cho. So, Harry's new philosophy was that if a girl wanted something more than friendship, then she was worthless.

But that philosophy came crashing down at the first dinner at Hogwarts that seventh year. The destructor was a pretty girl from California, whose name was Desiree Lyndon. She stood out the first time he saw her, and it wasn't just because she was the only person over eleven being sorted. She was a person who naturally stood out. It might have been because of her loosely curled, thick, golden brown hair that reached halfway down her back and gleamed in the small amount of light from the ceiling, which showed a fall evening. Or maybe it was her large, deep blue eyes that were framed by long, curled, dark eyelashes. Or maybe her full, naturally red, lips. Or her strongly protruding nose that somehow fit her face perfectly. Or the rosy color of her glowing, golden, skin. But most likely it was the glint of defiance in her eyes as she gazed around the great hall, and the way, when she was called to be sorted, she glided gracefully and confidently, shoulders back, to the stool, where she sat, long legs folded at the ankle, leaning slightly back, hands in her back. She looked completely at home, even while wearing the ratty old hat, sitting on the ancient three-legged stool. The hat began to speak to her.

"So, you've come to join us from the wizard school in America, have you? California's Oxboils, I suppose. You're a clever one, I see. But courageous as well. The spirit of a cougar. But competitive. Competitive as well. So it had better be GRYFFINDOR!"

The girl, Desiree Lyndon, as the hat had said, walked gracefully down to the sound of applause from the Gryffindor table. She glided past Neville, and Ginny, then Colin Creevey, and Padma Patil, and at the last minute Harry realized just where she was about to sit. She fluidly sat in the seat next to him and held out a hand.

"Harry Potter, right?"

Harry sat there, mouth open, looking like a complete dimwit. Hermione took pity on him and stepped in.

"Yes, he's Harry. I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Ron Weasley. And you're Desiree Lyndon, unless you're in the federal Witness Protection Program."

"That's me," replied Desiree, smiling. She nodded to Harry. "Is he always this…quiet?"

"No," answered Ron, "that's just his face for when he lik-OW!"

Hermione removed her foot from Ron's and smiled. "He's just tired, that's all."

Harry blinked and finally began to speak. "SO, um why are you, um, I mean, why did you, I mean-"

Hermione came to his rescue yet again. "So, why did you transfer to Hogwarts? I didn't even know that that was allowed."

"Yeah, what she said," muttered Harry, embarrassed.

"Well, it's not normally allowed, but my mom used to go out with this dude on the school board, so she just made it seem like she would go out with him if he let me transfer into Hogwarts. I did have to take a ton of tests though, to prove that not all the Americans are retards. It's because my mom is opening a really cool boutique in Hogsmeade, and she didn't want to be separated from me by a whole ocean. Only child syndrome. It's especially strong when your mom is only fifteen years older than you."

"Your MOM is fif-OW!" Ron was interrupted yet again by a stomp on his foot.

"It's ok," Desiree addressed Hermione after laughing sweetly for about a second. "I don't mind if he talks about it. It's something I'm happy about. It's nice to have a mom who can relate to you somewhat. I do get some cases where guys think she's my sister, though, which gets annoying, especially when they hit on us at the same time. It's truly discouraging to find out that you're not hotter than your own mother." She stuck out her tongue.

Harry laughed, seeming to snap out of his vegetative state. "So, are you planning on staying here long?"

"He speaks!" Desiree joked, throwing her arms in the air. "Yeah, probably. We move a lot, though, so I wouldn't be surprised if Mom wants to move to Bulgaria or somewhere random like that. It's a good thing I make friends so quickly."

And that she did. By the end of that first week, she had made friends with every boy and half the girls in the sixth- and seventh-years, even though she was just a fifth-year. Not to say that her classmen ignored her. By the end of the week, she also had about twenty female replicas of her, and about thirty boys mooning over her. Harry once even heard a fifteen year old girl exclaim over her friend's purse, calling it "extremely Desiree Lyndon-ish".

Desiree seemed completely oblivious to all this. She strolled through the halls, yelling greetings to all her friends (and her 'posse'), hugging whichever of them happened to be close enough, and blowing kisses jokingly to all the rest.

And, as is often common with those kinds of people, the teachers loved her as well. The first time that she turned in homework early, Harry thought professor Biggs was going to hug her.

Harry knew that he liked Desiree a lot. Every night, in his bed next to Ron's, he practiced asking her out with Ron. It always went great. Until the next day in the common when he saw her walk down the stairs of the girls' dormitory, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Then he froze up. Really froze up. And he went back to asking Ron out.

One day, the first Monday of September, all that changed. He was trying to fall asleep, thinking of her sleeping only a hundred yards away, when he heard Dean Thomas talking to Seamus Finnegan next to the window in their dorm.

"I think I'm going to ask her out," he heard Dean say. Who was he talking about?

"You don't have a chance with Desiree, but I suppose you could try," Harry heard Seamus tell him frankly.

"I'll bet you five sickles she'll agree," Dean was a bit cocky.

"Deal."

Harry was torn. He would have to ask Desiree out before Dean, but what if she turned him down? She had already turned down five boys who had asked her to go to Hogsmeade with them that Saturday (Harry had kept count). He would have to risk it, though. She just couldn't go with Dean!

The next day, Harry ran up to Desiree as soon as she walked into the common room. He froze up, but then remembered the conversation he heard last night. He spoke up.

"WillyougotohogsmeadewithmethisweekendIunderstandifyoudon'twanttobutIthou- ghtIshouldaskyou…" It came out a bit faster than Harry intended.

"Sorry, I didn't understand that," said Desiree.

"Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?" Harry had calmed down, finally, and stood there biting his lips.

"No, I'm way too cool to go to Hogsmeade with the savior of the wizarding world," she turned away at this.

Harry began to walk away sadly.

Desiree turned toward him and started to laugh. "Please tell me that you didn't think I was serious. I was being sarcastic. Of course I'll go to Hogsmeade with you. Meet you her on Saturday." And with that she waved goodbye and strolled off toward breakfast.

Harry stood there, watching her walk off with a goofy smile on his face until Ron came down and hauled him toward the Great Hall.