AN: Wow. Um I just couldn't leave that off! I wrote this at four in the morning, and I spent all that time reading Harry Potter fanfiction ^^; I'm weird, yeah, you know… I must tell you this: things aren't as they seem (hey, I think I use that as a chapter name! O.o specialness…)

P.S.: I don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does…please, bear with me this gets better. And you know what? (nanny nanny boo boo I'm very good at cliffhangers for all of you who can't stand this…hehe)

Chapter Two: Acting Like I Was A Part Of Your Property

Harry stood there for a few moments, his mouth slightly agape. Something burned within him, like a rage of fire. He stood there, watching his two best friends make-out. He didn't know if he should be sad, or angry; mostly he felt deeply betrayed. Like an outsider. He never felt more alone that he did now, standing there. Even when he faced Lord Voldemort, he wasn't as afraid. At least he had Ron and Hermione behind him, and they were together.

Lately, he noticed how Ron was acting toward Hermione, but he just figured it was as it looked- as he saw it, at the very least. Simply friendship. Ron looked awkward--and he was resentful of Hermione's relationship with Viktor Krum, but it was true-- she was "fraternizing" with the enemy, no doubt of that. And he didn't even look twice at it; now Harry saw it was pure jealousy. 'A book case of the green-eyed monster,' he thought darkly.

Harry turned his back abruptly to the new couple. 'How long had this been going on for,' he thought angrily, 'before I'm to find out?' Now Harry was seething.

He walked up the stairs and climbed into his bed again. This time, though, he wasn't tired. He was enraged.



"Good morning, Harry!" Ron said happily as Harry groggily climbed out of bed. He had had the worst night of sleep ever. Unconsciously, he glared at Ron, putting his glasses on and smoothing his hair, covering the trademark scar of Harry Potter.

"My aren't we a little ray of sunshine, eh, Harry?" Fred said, looking at him. George came up behind him, resting his elbow on his twin's shoulder. "What is the matter?" Fred asked, concerned. Fred and George were Ron's older brothers, now in their seventh year. They, too, had the flaming red hair of the Weasley family. Their faces were light up with a happy smile, and a joke played on their lips. And like the many Weasleys before, Fred was named Head Boy this year, amazingly.

Harry looked at Ron, and saw he was still smiling. 'If I had a chance,' Harry thought darkly, 'I'd beat that smile off his face.' Instead, Harry stood, and grabbed his clothes. Wordlessly, he walked past them and into the bathroom to get ready.

He heard their voices from outside the door. "What did you do to him, Ron?" George asked.

"I don't know...he was fine last night. Maybe he didn't get enough sleep. I bet he's really worried about the Potions test we have today. It's really important that we pass it," Ron answered, although he didn't believe himself.

Harry finished dressing and getting ready for class, then walked casually out. Dumping his clothes on his bed, he grabbed his books with his wand and put them into his bag. Slinging it onto his shoulder, he brushed past the Weasley boys and walked into the common room.

He totally forgot last night to pick up his quill, and saw that it wasn't there today. 'Oh well,' he thought, sighing, 'serves me right. I should have just interrupted them and grabbed it. Then at least it wouldn't be stolen now.'

Hermione was sitting in a big maroon-colored chair, reading Hogwarts, A History for the sixth time since their very first year had started. He walked past her without saying hello and out of the common room, heading down to breakfast. As he climbed out of Gryfindor tower, Hermione looked up. "Harry! Why didn't you say hello? Well, I've yet to eat, I'll come with you," she said brightly.

Harry continued and didn't acknowledge she talked. He was seething, deep inside. It surely amazed him that they could be so passive about last night. If he didn't know better, they were treating him almost too nicely. 'They probably feel guilty, and it serves them quite right,' he thought, his brilliant green eyes narrowing at the thought. He continued walking briskly, avoiding her calls for him to slow down.

"Harry! Come on, slow down a little!" Hermione yelled, and finally Harry stopped. Hermione caught up, breathing hard, trying to assemble the amount of books evenly between her hands and her bag. "Thanks, finally..." she said, and was shifting the weight of her bag on her shoulder.

He felt tears sting his eyes and Hermione started chatting aimlessly away. He felt hurt, just standing next to her. He started walking again, not joining in on the conversation.

"Harry...are you okay?" she asked, looking at his face. He didn't answer or turn to acknowledge she'd spoken. "Are you really that concerned about Snape? Seriously, Harry, you have nothing to worry about. You know this Potion by heart!"

Harry stopped, and blinked. Was she really that oblivious? He never thought Hermione could be so bright, yet so dim at the same time.

They reached the Great Hall, which was opened into a large room full of oak tables and each was glimmering with silverware, goblets and plates made of silver. The ceiling, which had been bewitched into looking like the outside, was swirling with purple and the occasional flashes of lightening. Perfectly suited to his mood, Harry noticed.

Hermione pulled out her book, A-Z Book of Repulsive Nameless Creatures: A Small Guide To Defense Against The Dark Arts, and began to read. "Hey, Harry, you think Professor Bulwark will stay this year?" she laughed. "That'll be a first, our Defense Against the Dark Arts staying. Amazing, Snape lost is chance again this year." It was a known fact that Professor Snape, the Potions Master, coveted the job that each year managed to keep a position open.

Harry stirred his food about his plate, mixing the Treacle pudding with his eggs. Finally, repulsed enough of both his food and his so-called friend, Harry stood and gathered his belongings, grabbing a piece of toast and walked away.

"Harry! What are you doing?!" Hermione called, jumping up from the table. "What is your problem?!" she shouted.

Harry looked at her, his face full of contempt. His eyes gave him away, as they were glimmering of lost tears. "Nothing, Hermione, that you can fix," he replied coolly. "So please leave me alone about it. In fact, leave me alone period." He spoke with a monotonous resonance, glaring at her.

"Harry..." she whispered. "What did I do?"

His eyes opened widely. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." Turning on his heel, he walked away.