"How did it go?" Hermione asked cooly. She was reading a book and appeared to be upset. Practice had been terrible. Angelina was under a lot of stress, understandably, and had taken it out on the team. Ron sunk into the chair next to Hermione after kicking it once in frustration. He hadn't performed as well as he did the other day when it was just the two of them. "It was bloody terrible," he groused. Hermione's expression lightened a little and she awkwardly patted his knee in comfort. "Well, it was only the first training session, Ron. Things like these take time, you'll get-"

"Why do you think it was me who made it terrible?" He pushed her hand away, offended.

Hermione looked taken aback, "I- I didn't...I just thought-"

"That I was rubbish, did you? That I couldn't do one thing right? Well, I'm sorry that I'm not the great Harry Potter."

Harriet bristled and coldly said, "Leave my name out of it, Ronald."

"Please, Ron. You said-"

"Whatever. I'm out of here." He left in a storm. Harriet sighed and glared at her friend, who was looking sullenly in the direction he left. "Was he rubbish?"

"No!" Harriet loyally said, feeling torn between being angry with Ron and sympathising with him. Hermione raised her eyebrows disbelievingly. "Well," Harriet adamantly looked at the ground, "He wasn't the best today, but...as you said, it was only the first one. He'll do better next time, I'm sure of it. You're much too harsh on him."

Hermione scoffed, "Of course you'd say that."

She raised her voice, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You always take his side! It's not my fault..."

"He was already feeling down and you all but rubbed it in his face! Can't you see that he's got no self-confidence whatsoever?"

"And who pointed that out to you? Face it, Harry, you're stuck in your own little world all the time. You can't even be bothered to care about anyone around you. You're selfish."

"And you're a self-righteous cow but we put up with you, don't we?"

Hermione flinched as if she had struck her. Betrayal laid in her eyes and Harriet felt guilty. She knew she'd gone too far. "Hermione, I-"

"Leave it, Harriet." A moment later, Harriet was alone. More than that, she felt alone.

A week passed with her friends angry with her. Ron spent his time with Seamus and Dean, making Harriet feel betrayed. Those two were very vocal about her being a liar. Meanwhile, Hermione gravitated to Neville when she wasn't by herself. It was Harriet who was the lonliest of them all. And, with all the free time she had on her hands, she spent most of her time thinking of Snape.

A weird burning fire ignited in her stomach whenever she remembered how he touched her. After a long afternoon of thinking, she accepted it. She was sure this wasn't a crush; she still hated the Potions Master with a passion and she didn't see that changing any time soon. It was hormones, she decided. It will go away soon and she could go back to the simple stuff-trying not to die.

Weirdly enough, her scar hadn't given her any trouble in a while. Had she been on speaking terms with Hermione, she'd bring that up. You don't need Hermione. You don't need anyone. A sense of foreboding hit her. She was sure something soon would go wrong. It always did. It didn't hold up too well that Voldemort was staying quiet.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny plopped next to her, interrupting her train of thought.

"Oh, hey. What's up?"

"Potions homework," Ginny scowled, "Bloody git Snape assigned us a 14-inch essay due tomorrow." Harriet was very familiar with the feeling. Ginny was a nice girl, and she was way more tolerable now that she didn't look at her as if she was Merlin himself, but the two didn't have so much in common. Aside from Quidditch, Harriet couldn't relate to her at all. And, Qudditch was something she'd rather share with Ron.

Their lack of a friendship wasn't Ginny's fault; Harriet was just far too socially inept. She didn't understand most people, how could she when her life was so different from theirs? She was lucky to have somehow befriended Ron and Hermione. It was okay for Harriet to not know how to respond to them. The pauses in conversation never felt weird. It was why they were her only friends despite her popularity. Well, she wasn't so popular at the moment but people were fickle, Harriet found.

"Umm," she started awkwardly, "Do you want to...hang out or something?"

"What? Oh, er, yeah, sure!" Ginny blushed, "You know what we could do? A makeover!" Harriet thought it over. Why shouldn't she have a makeover? It was what normal girls her age did. Ginny grabbed Harriet's hand excitedly and lead her to her dorm.

Ginny's dorm was so much messier than Harriet's own. Clothes were scattered on the floor, a hairbrush overcrowded with hair on the dresser, her mirror was smudged, and her trunk was wide open, even more clothes heaped on it. "Where'd you get all these clothes?" Harriet knew for certain that Ginny hadn't bought all of them. The Weasleys didn't have that type of money. "My roomies gave me some of them...I made some of them from cloth. Mum taught me," said Ginny proudly. "Sit." She scooched the clothes on the dresser and sat down, allowing Ginny to do her thing.

Looking in the mirror, Harriet couldn't recognize herself. Her cheekbones were highlighted, her skin looked glowing, her lips painted peach pink, and the pimple that was developing beneath her lip was concealed. Her hair was smoothed and fell in manageable waves (though it probably wouldn't stay so for long).

"Now for clothes."

"No thanks Ginny, I'm good." Harriet felt uncomfortable wearing other people's clothes thanks to growing up wearing Dudley's hand-me-downs.

Harriet said her goodbyes and ran down the winding staircase into the Common Room. Unfortunately for her, Hermione was situated there. Even more unfortunate, Hermione noticed Harriet and cocked an eyebrow judgmentally. Harriet flushed angrily. Hermione was strictly against anything feminine such as makeup. Harriet herself wasn't so much into them either but she wanted to try something new. What did it matter anyway? It wasn't as if she were going to start using it every day. She lacked the time and patience. Well, fuck her. I'll wear makeup if I want to.

She met Hermione's stare with a heated glare and retreated to her room, only to be greeted by Lavender and Parvati. They weren't on very good terms since the two girls, as most of Hogwarts, didn't believe Harriet that Voldemort was back. In fact, Harriet had been actively avoiding them, which was a pretty great achievement considering that they were roommates.

Lavender and Parvati, unlike Hermione, seemed thrilled that she was wearing makeup. "Finally, you've started caring how you look!" said Lavender snidely, grinning ear-to-ear. The two girls squealed, telling Harriet animatedly about all the things she could do to better her looks.

"I look just fine, I think."

"Well," Parvati started sheepishly, "Nothing's wrong with you, exactly, but…"

"You look like a 10-year-old usually," Lavender cut in rudely, "The makeup you have on now helps, but it's not going to do much if you insist on wearing those clothes." Her nose scrunched as if she were smelling dog's shite. Harriet frowned, observing her school uniform. "What's wrong with it? It looks just like yours…"

"Except our skirts are higher up, and you button your shirt far too high. You could wear a push-up bra...or at least a padded one." So, in simple terms, they wanted her to look like a slut.

"Yeah, how are you ever going to get a guy looking like that?" Lavender asked.

"I'm not interested in a guy," Harriet said indignantly.

"Or girl," added Parvati.

"I'm not into girls! I just- I'm not looking for a boyfriend right now." Or ever. I'm too concentrated on the important things. Like fighting Voldemort. You know, that madman who was resurrected last summer?

"Well," Lavender flopped backwards on her bed and opened Witch's Weekly, "you'd better start or you'll end up like McGonagall." No, Harriet thought, I doubt I'll live long enough to end up like McGonagall.

"Whatever. I'm going to bed."

Harried rolled to her side for the millionth time. Her roommates (including Hermione) were all asleep and had been for hours. She couldn't sleep. How could she when all she could think about was that she was going to die? She'd always known that, intellectually, there was no way she'd survive this war. One of these days, she'd run out of luck. These days, she felt it creeping closer. It was like that big red circle you drew on your calendar to mark an event. She could sense it coming closer and closer. Death to her was just a concept before. Now that she was running out of time, she felt panicked. It was real. She was going to die.

She'd never have a first love. She'd never have a boyfriend. She'd never graduate Hogwarts. She'd never reach her majority. She'd never get a 9-to-5 office job that she absolutely hated but stayed in only as a source of income until something better came up. She'd never get proposed to. She'd never see Hermione and Ron get married. She'd never have children. She'd never spoil Ron and Hermione's children, buying them ice cream before dinner even though their parents would never approve. She'd never kiss her husband goodbye each morning before work. She'd never have a mental breakdown because she got her first grey hair. She'd never look on proudly at her grandchildren.

She'd never be content with death because she didn't want to die. She would die, but only because she had to. It wasn't as if she could just leave Great Britain-even if she wanted to, she had no support system and no plan.

What if she died before she could tell Hermione that she was sorry she took her for granted sometimes and that she did love her, even if she didn't tell her that often? What if she died before Ron knew that, to her, he was the greatest person alive?

What if, that annoying little voice said, you died without ever having his hands on you again?

She sat up with her knees in the air, enwrapping them in her arms and rocking as if she were a child still. Her head laid against her linked arms and she started crying as silent as possible.

She felt miserable. No Hermione. No Ron. No Dumbledore. Even with the Dursleys she never felt this alone. Maybe that was because she hadn't known anything else back then. She did now. And, she only had herself to blame. Because of her stupid mouth. Maybe, the voice started again, sounding rather malicious, you deserve to be dead. Stupid girl, all you're good for is causing death and misery.

She wanted to yell at it, telling it that she didn't cause death and misery...but that wasn't true, was it? Cedric was dead because of her. Her mother died for her. Her father would be alive if it weren't for her. How many others would die for her before she finally got her leave?

She felt arms around her. She didn't have to look up to know it was Hermione-her soft hair gave it away. "I'm-"

"Shh," Hermione said consolingly, "It's okay. You were right, Harry, I don't give Ron enough credit. Yes, you went a bit too far, but I don't think you really meant it. I'm sorry. You aren't selfish, not at all. Harry, you were almost killed at age 11. Then again ages 12 to 14. Each year comes a new murder attempt. No one blames you for being self-absorbed. Anyone would be in your shoes. We're even, okay?"

Harriet shook her head vehemently, rubbing tears off her face, "I didn't mean that we have to put up with you. I need you, Hermione. And, being your friend isn't a chore. I know I've been taking you for granted, but I- I don't mean to. I know how lucky I am to have you. Sometimes, I think I don't deserve friends. So, I try to push you guys away, but I just...I can't do this without you. I don't want to lose you guys, Hermione." Harriet was full-out crying now, holding on to Hermione as if she were her lifeline. "Oh, Harry," Hermione sounded as if she were crying, "You're never going to lose me or Ron. He'll come around, he always does. We're your best friends and we aren't going anywhere, I promise you."

"I love you, you know," Harriet admitted after a while. She wasn't one to talk about her feelings-she couldn't recall ever doing so. It was always just much too awkward. But, Hermione deserved to hear it. Harriet felt very lucky to have them right now. She couldn't even imagine going through this all by herself. She fell asleep finally.

"I'm worried about her," Harriet heard Hermione saying. She wasn't trying to spy on them, but she didn't want to intrude on their conversation. So, here she was, sitting on the stairs, coincidentally hearing her best friends' conversation. "Ron, she was crying."

"Holy shite. Really?" There was a pause.

"Mmhm. She's been getting angry a lot too, hasn't she?"

Ron sighed, "Well, Hermione, she witnessed her crush dying in front of her eyes."

"What? How did you know she liked him?"

Ron bitterly laughed, "I'm not as clueless as you think, 'Mione. It would take a blind man to not notice her eyeing him across the room during our dance."

"I thought that maybe you thought she was just embarrassed to be with y- Ron! I didn't mean that. There's nothing wrong with being with you, just-"

"Relax, 'Mione, I get it. She just wasn't comfortable dancing with me because I'm just her friend." Harriet felt as if there was a deeper meaning behind that.

"Anyways, Ron, we need to stop fighting. She was worried we'd leave her, you know."

"Did she really tell you that?"

"No, but her eyes gave her away."

Another silence. "Anyways, truce?"

"Yeah, sure. Before I lose my nerve, I was wondering...maybe you'd like to go to Hogsmeade?"

"We always go to Hogsmeade, Ron?"

Harriet knew Ron had got to be blushing red to the roots of his hair by now. Go, Ron. You can do it, she mentally cheered him on. "Well, I mean together...as a couple. Just the two- you know what, never mind, just forget it."

"No! Ron, come back. I'd love to, I really would, but...Harry."

"Harry? What about her?"

"She'll feel left out, Ron."

"Oh. Right." Harriet made a mental note to make some excuse to leave the two alone. She knew Ron had been wanting to ask her out forever and he deserved this. Anyways, having her two best friends dating couldn't be too different than it was now, right? Certainly, they'd stop fighting as much. In a softer tone, Hermione continued, "I, uh, didn't know that you liked me like that."

"What? Are you an idiot? How could I not like you, 'Mione?"

"I just know that there are prettier girls out there. Like Harry." Harriet snorted to herself. If Hermione thought that Harry was prettier than her then she was blind. Maybe Hermione wasn't beautiful in a conventional way, but she had an ageless beauty like no other. She felt like home, the way her caramel eyes lit up, the warmth of her smile, and the security of her hugs. It was no wonder Ron was in love with her. Harriet was nothing compared to Hermione.

"Not to me," Ron whispered. Harriet agreed. Harriet decided to reveal herself just then. She was sure they were about to kiss, but she knew Ron wanted their first kiss to be romantic. When they saw her, they sprung apart, both blushing and looking down as if they were caught stealing a cookie from the cooking jar that their mother specifically told them not to take. Harriet didn't know much about the mother part, but she did know the feeling of the rest. Except, instead of feeling abashed, it was fear that Harriet generally felt. "H-How much of that did you hear exactly?" Ron asked, clearing his throat. "Nothing," she answered, "Wanna get breakfast?"

"Sure!" Hermione looked as if she didn't believe her, but Harriet was hoping that she wouldn't call her out on it.

I actually believe that Ron was more intuitive than people give him credit for. Not when it comes to Hermione, but I believe that's more because of his low self-esteem rather than being oblivious. Especially when it comes to his best friend. He always did seem to know how to make Harry feel better. I know Harry's a girl and not a boy here, but I still imagine the two having the same type of relationship as they did in Canon since Ron would still be the first to befriend her and they have more in common than Harry and Hermione do.