Someday, I will own something of great value. This will not be Harry Potter, as J K Rowling already owns it.

Loneliness

Harry drew a deep breath as he walked into the Hogwarts Great Hall, and smiled, truly happy for the first time in two months. He was home. No matter how much he had to recognize the Dursleys' as his home, Hogwarts was always the place he felt most natural. He heard Ron beside him sniff excitedly, rather like a hungry puppy, saying, "D'you suppose they'll feed us soon? I'm starved."

"Of course, mate, once they sort everyone, of course. And how can you be starving? I know for a fact that your mum kept you well fed all summer, not to mention the six cauldron cakes, two boxes of Bertie Botts', seven chocolate frogs..."

Ron cut him off with an angry growl, except that it came from his stomach instead of his throat. He looked over sheepishly, and said, "Well, I can't help it. I'm a growing boy!" Incredibly, he was still a growing boy. Ron had seemed to shoot up a foot a year, and was only just now starting to fill out to fit his frame.

"Your mother should have locked you in a cupboard for eleven years of your life. Then, you wouldn't have this problem." Harry had only now hit 5' 8", and was unlikely to ever get to Crabbe or Goyle dimensions. Ron dwarfed him by more than half a foot now, although he was still taller than Hermionie. Well, it could be worse...

Harry groaned as his ultimate rival walked into the room. It just got worse. Not only had Draco Malfoy failed to get himself killed, plunked in Azkaban, or expelled, he was now at full half head taller than Harry, and looked older and more mature than his 17 years. Lovely, Harry thought, Malfoy looks like a competent adult, and I'm still a kid. Just what I needed in my seventh year. It seemed so unfair to have only a scar on his forehead, while Malfoy ended up with money, popularity, prefect status... Add that to the fact he was a Death Eater, and you had the perfect rival for the boy who lived.

"Just ignore him," came Hermionie's curt voice, "With his black name, I'm amazed he's still allowed in Hogwarts." She knew just how much it meant to Harry not to be beaten by Malfoy at anything, and was always trying to cheer him up.

"Actually, it doesn't look like there's a lot of the older Slytherins here at all." Ron was scanning the sullen, green-clad group filing towards their house table, and it did seem smaller than last year.

"Voldemort's probably drafting." Through the bond they shared, Harry knew the Dark Lord was building up for a war, but no specifics. "Pity the poor Slytherins. Oh, wait, they chose to be Death Eaters. Never mind." Harry was rather bitter on the whole subject, understandably so, with his background.

"Oh, come on, hush up. You're missing the sorting!" Hermionie shushed Harry's mumblings impatiently with a wave of her hand. Normally, they'd obey just because she was their best friend, but Hermionie had just been designated Head Girl, partnering some Ravenclaw boy, Sasha Scribeson. Ron wasn't too happy with the arrangements, but it was really his own fault, as Hermionie had cheerfully pointed out on the train; Ron was not exactly the kind to take on extra work of any sort. And then she'd gone all mushy on him, saying how it didn't matter, because no Ravenclaw could hope to measure up to him...

Which made Harry feel more lonely than ever. Why couldn't he get a girl like Hermionie? He'd just had bad luck, or something. Depressed, rebounding Cho Chang had been a mistake, Parvati Patil had just been happy to have someone famous to go to the Yule Ball with, Ginny had finally settled down with Neville just as Harry had started to notice she was a girl, and all those one-shot fangirls just wanted bragging rights. What Harry wanted was someone who really understood him, who didn't care he was Harry Potter, who just wanted to be with him for the sake of being with him. He sighed and turned away from Ron and Hermionie, who had just started feeding each other bits of fruit, glanced away from Neville and Ginny, whispering and giggling, averted his gaze when he saw Justin Finch-Fletchley caressing his new boyfriend's arm (That boy changed his mind as much as Ginny had, and oddly enough, was now going with Michael Forner), and just settled for staring down at his inanimate chicken and pasta. For the boy who every girl in Hogwarts wanted to date, Harry was sure having one hell of a time finding love.

At least classes would start tomorrow, which would be some distraction. McGonnagal was a teacher who never let little lovebirds be little lovebirds in her class, which Harry was starting to appreciate could be a real distraction. Between Transfiguration and Potions, Harry was guaranteed at least a few hours of free-from-couples time a day. He froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. Did he just think he'd be glad to be in Potions? Now he knew he was losing it. There had to be someone in all of Hogwarts he'd be happy with, who wasn't already firmly taken.

There had to be.

Just had to.

Please?

Or The Boy Who Lived might just go stir crazy.