I'm so tired… Last night the four of us stayed up talking until some ridiculous hour and it's in the evening now, so it's understandable. But I don't know how I managed third year. Wait, that's right – I didn't.

The first thing I saw this morning was the book-end Ron gave me. I just opened my eyes and saw this swirl of colour moving and it took me a minute to work out what it was. It was sitting on the table by my bed – I must not have closed the curtain properly last night, but that's not too surprising since to all intents and purposes I changed then passed out. It's got a very solid base – hence bookend – but it's delicate above that. It's charmed, obviously, to move and change colout, but I just wonder where he got it. And how much it cost. I can understand him wanting to buy nice things for his friends but if he can't afford it then we don't want it!

It's very lovely though.

It was nicer talking to him last night. It was easy. It wasn't private, it wasn't exclusive, but it was nice. But of course we all had to take turns pulling Harry out of his bad mood. I felt helpless again. Ginny did well at it, though, so we ended up with a couple on each sofa. It was pleasant. Of course, there were other people there and you can't relax as much – but they all left eventually.

They seem to have given up on herding us to bed, which can only be a good thing. Even if it does lead to yawning through dinner.

I would rather avoid my dorm as long as possible. It's not a cheery place to be. And I am quite happy at the moment. I don't know why.

Oh, I do. I know why. Because he was sweet and he gave me a nice present and he put his arm around me. Because I'm now almost entirely sure he likes me. Because I can just let myself enjoy getting closer to him without getting into scary boyfriend/girlfriend territory. Although that probably won't last long.

It put me in a good mood, seeing his present just as soon as I woke up, and that carried on through breakfast which was nice and relaxed: sitting in out little group, none of us particularly awake or interested in talking, just sitting eating and drinking and thinking and enjoying the companionable almost-silence. After that, even Potions couldn't rob me of my general happiness – though that was helped by the fact that it seems Snape can't be bothered picking on us when he's depressed. It worries me. I don't like seeing anyone in pain, and while he's not my favourite person in the world, he's still a person. And it doesn't look like he has anyone to help him.

Of course, if I tried to help, he'd most likely bite my head off, take thirty points from Gryffindor and give me detention for the rest of the year. So I won't be doing that.

My good mood lasted through dinner, and once I had accepted its continuance, I went up to my dorm for "Jane Eyre" – it seemed to fit. But Parvati was there. Crying.

How dare I be happy when her world is falling to pieces? When the same thing is happening to families throughout the wizarding world? When the same thing is happening to all sorts of people all over the world for all sorts of reasons? How can I presume to say that I am happy, that life is good, that the future is bright? How can I do that?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She liked it, she did, she liked it and I spent half of last evening with her sitting right next to me cuddling into my side, and…

I think I might be losing my mind.

Anyway, birthday was good, no party but just being together (as a group) was good and we just sat and talked and what have you, and it looks like Ginny and Harry are friends which is good, and I just can't keep thinking about this.

Mum wrote. She says Percy finally moved out. I know she didn't want him too but she still sounded relieved. But it's just her and Dad now – all of her babies are away, whether they're just at school or totally gone. Must be weird. But then again, I suppose this isn't the first year it's happened. It won't be long until we're all old enough to move out permanently – a couple more years until we're out in the world. Damn, but that's scary.

Of course, it's entirely possible we'll never have to worry about it.

Some days I think I'm turning into Harry. Occasionally, I find myself surprised that I don't have glasses to shove back up my nose, that I look slightly down to see my friend instead of slightly up, that I don't start awake gasping every night, that no-one's really after me… And then I shake myself and tell myself off for being an idiot; because, really, who would want to be him? I suppose I just spend so much time with him that the line between us becomes blurred. Friends, room-mates, brothers… Blurred.

I wonder if he feels it too. I would ask him, but I think it's getting a bit too close to falling under "Emotions" and that's not my job to talk about. Sport, girls and fighting, that's about my limit.

Oh hell, Hermione just dashed through the common room – from dorm to library, I think. She didn't look too happy.

I bet Parvati's crying again. She hasn't cried in public at all, hasn't let ussee a tear-stained face since that day: but she's made a point of staying close to her sister, close enough to touch arms and brush hips and assure each other that yes, we're still here, we're still together, we're twins and that means forever. It's so familiar I gasped the first time I noticed it, and I got a few curious looks; but I paid no attention to them. It's the way Fred knocks by George and George punches lightly back, just put into girl-language – less violent because of that, less practised because they were separated four years ago, more sensual because they're girls and they're not my brothers so I can acknowledge it.

Maybe I should go after her.

I'm quite comfortable here, though, and it's sort of fun to sit here watching the people go by. Or not, as it happens. Dean's been sitting staring out of the window since before I got here. I guess other people worry too. Of course, with him it's as likely to be how well his football team is performing as it is to be about his being a Muggle-born with the times that are coming. Oh, almost everyone in the Tower believes Harry – claims to, at least – but I think most of them are a lot more optimistic about it than we are. It's like I was saying: the lines between us are blurred. So Harry's overwhelming pessimism about the way all of this is going (and can I just say how much that worries me? He's supposed to be our hero and he doesn't believe he can do it, and that really will not help) seems to bleed over into Hermione and I, so we see a bleaker future than most of the people around us.

Hermione. I'll go look for her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Professor Dumbledore offered me extra lessons – Defence, mostly.

I don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?

I haven't told the others yet. There hasn't been an appropriate moment. There may never be. I'll have to tell them at some point, because they won't believe any excuses I try to give them and we spend so much time together that they'll notice my absences. So I have to tell them. And the longer I put it off, the worse it'll be, the more conversations where the subject went unraised, the more empty spaces that could have been filled by discussion of this offer and its implications. Two days since he told me, and it's not enough, but my period of grace is practically gone…

I could have told them last night. But it was her birthday, and it was a good day, and I didn't want to bring down any shadows on it. And Ron would have hit me later. The pair of them were sitting there all comfortable and happy, and I didn't want to disturb that by bringing up my future.

That's half the reason I pushed them off me when they took their turns at "Look After the Psychologically-Damaged Friend". I didn't want to disturb their togetherness. The other half is that I couldn't be bothered with the gentleness that they tend to apply when I know that's not the way we are together. I can accept it if I have to, but it's easier not to. I can accept it from other people – Ginny is a case in point. I could just sit there and pretend that the worried, tender expression she had was normal for her when dealing with me, had nothing to do with what's actually happening to me, would apply whether my life was perfect or going to hell in a hand-basket – and for all I know it might. But I haven't spent all that much time with her when my life hasn't been at least half-way bad.

It didn't hurt that she talked easily and freely about random things that basically didn't matter, that she didn't look askance (that I could see) when I laughed and talked about things that didn't matter in the slightest, that when I spaced out for a minute at some unexpected flash of memory she just waited for me to come back then picked up where she left off. It didn't hurt that she's a damn pretty girl when I take the time to look at her.

Well, obviously she's pretty all the time, but I didn't exactly notice before. I was a bit busy being depressed. I still am.

It's not the lessons per se, it's the fact that now even Dumbledore acknowledges that I need them. I freely admit that my future is far from bright, but when the people around me and the people I look up to deny it and tell me things will be OK, I can try to dismiss it as overly- pessimistic. It lightens the load, in a way. But now…

I'm quite looking forward to the lessons. They should be interesting. I just don't want to have to use them. Oh I know, I know, best be prepared and whatever happens will happen whether I take these lessons or not, and they may make the difference between life and death if I do.

And I just said that like I had a choice.

I never have a choice. Ever. I live by expectation and by prophecy instead of by my own free will. I suppose it might be easier this way.