AN : Okay, i'd just like to say that PLEASE could people review if they read this? i'm not sure if anyone does and if nobody is reading it im not sure if there is any point in keeping it up here. Comment! tell me what you like what you don't like, your thoughts, your feelings, anything! i'd love to hear from you!

secondly, the song used in this chapter doesnt belong to me, it's by the Plain White Tees, so dont sue me, okay?

thirdly, just wanna thank my beta andy, cause he's my grammar genious!

Chapter Four /

Hope sat alone in her room that night, surveying her new things. There were three piles of large books, a nice neat pile of new Hogwarts robes, a cauldron overflowing with ingredients and a package full of new parchment and quills.

She smiled widely. "This isn't a dream," she whispered, "its real. I'm really going to Hogwarts." She giggled to herself happily.

She had been thinking about what Hogwarts would be like. Would she be disappointed when she got there? She wondered about the stories her mother and father had told her about their days at the castle. She wondered if she would be able to have as much as fun in one year as everyone else did in seven.

Her smile faltered. She had tried not to think about the fact that she was going to be a new seventh year. All the other seventh years would have close friendships with each other; they weren't going to want another strange new girl join in with them. She sighed heavily. She'd never had to deal with having no friends before, and it made her nervous to have to make new ones. She'd had the same group of friends since she was 5, and now, because of that damn Voldemort she had to leave them, and everything she knew, and join a different world of people, make new friends and try to fit in.

Oh no. Fitting in. The thought of it made her nervous. She glanced over at her guitar is its coffin case. What would people say about her love for the guitar and music? What would they say about her clothes? Would they make fun of her if it wasn't the "Style" at Hogwarts?

Hope was staring dead into space, trying to clear her mind of thoughts when she heard a soft knock on her door. She got up off her bed slowly, and went to the door. She opened it only a slither, cautious, still very intimidated by the gloomy house. She smiled however and opened the door wide when she saw the light reflecting off the silver mane of Albus Dumbledore.

"Unc - I mean, Albus!" she said, beckoning him into her room before hugging him tightly. "What brings you here for the second time today?" she asked brightly.

"I'm here to tell you the arrangements for your trip to Hogwarts tomorrow," he said, smiling widely. Hope smiled back at him, her eyes lighting up.

"Are you going to let me go on the train?" she asked him excitedly. She had heard the stories of the Hogwarts Express, and wanted desperately to go on it.

"Why yes, I am indeed," replied Albus, still smiling widely. "You will apparate to an alley just along from Kings Cross Station tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock along with your trunk. From there, you will access platform 9 ¾ and board the train to Hogwarts!" he exclaimed. Hope was not sure who was more excited about it, Albus or herself.

Hope ran over the plan in her mind for a moment before speaking again.

"We may have a little problem Albus," she remarked slowly. His eyes had a certain twinkle to them.

"Oh?" he asked, obviously trying to sound surprised and failing miserably, "and what would that be?"

"I don't know how to get onto the platform..." she mumbled. She was embarrassed to say it, although she was not sure why. She felt strangely like a first year. Albus however, only smiled winder and tapped her forehead. She scrunched up her nose before looking at him.

"You'll figure it out," he stated knowingly. He rose gracefully up from the bed and walked towards the door. He opened it for himself and smiled at Hope as he backed out of the doorway.

Hope had been left alone for no more than ten seconds before there was another soft knock at her door. She looked at the door in a quizzical way, wondering who it was. Was it Uncle Albus back again? She crossed the room to the door and opened it only a slit.

Standing in the hallway was a short, plump woman with fiery red hair. She wore a broad grin on her face and she gave off a welcoming vibe, something Hope was very glad for.

"Hello dear," said the woman brightly, "I'm Molly Weasley." Hope was taken aback at just how happy and bright this woman was, considering the dark times within the wizarding world, but she smiled back all the same as she opened the door wider, allowing the woman entrance.

"Hello, I'm Hope Winters," replied Hope, her voice shaky from the surprise of such a bright welcome. The old woman looked positively ecstatic that Hope had let her into her room, and she quickly bumbled into the room.

"I've come to tell you about the dinner arrangements for this evening," she stated, the brightness in her voice never faltering. She looked at Hope eagerly, obviously waiting for a reply.

"Oh, right. Well okay," said Hope, her voice was still shaky.

"Well, seeing as tonight is the last night of the holidays, we usually put on a feast for the kids, you know. A sort of going away party," Molly Weasley smiled again, even wider than before, and Hope could not help but feel heartened by this woman's hospitable nature.

"The children?" Hope inquired, confused.

"Oh yes, there are children who stay here for a while over the summer before Hogwarts," she replied.

"Oh right, yes, of course."

"Well, the festivities will begin at around six o'clock this evening, and if you're feeling up to it, you are most welcome to join us."

"Well thank you Mrs Weasley, I will see." Molly started for the door, but stopped just before touching the door handle and spun around to face Hope. She walked slowly towards her and placed a gentle hand on Hope's arm.

"I wasn't going to say anything, but your parents were good friends of mine. And I would just like to give you my sympathies. They were good people, your parents. Kind and giving, and I am sure you are more of the same." Molly smiled, but this time it was not bright. It was sad, and sympathetic. Hope felt tears begin to swell in her eyes, but forced them back. She would not cry, not in front of this bright woman, she would not be responsible for dampening anyone's bright mood.

"Thank you," whispered Hope finally, "Very, very much."

Molly let go of her arm and walked slowly to the door, opened it, and smiled at Hope again before backing out onto the landing, leaving the door open just a slit.

Harry was practically floating on air as he walked through Diagon Alley the rest of the day. He was acutely aware of Ron staring at him with curiosity out of the corner of his eye, and Hermione giggling behind him. But he found he did not care. He had seen her again, and he had heard her speak, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

It was almost an hour after the three of them had emerged from Flourish and Blotts that Ron blurted out the question he had obviously been bursting to ask since they had found Harry in the shop.

"I can't take it anymore!" he confessed loudly, his voice slightly higher in pitch, so that it made Harry and Hermione jump with surprise. They were just about to walk into Eeylops Owl Emporium when Ron finally voiced his thoughts. He stuck a hand out and clapped Harry on the shoulder, forcing Harry to turn round and look him in the face. Harry heard Hermione make a strange noise beside him.

"Tell me right now," said Ron flatly, staring Harry straight in the face. Harry, who had been smiling since he had first met the girl, still could not stop smiling despite the intimidating look on Ron's face. He knew exactly what Ron was talking about, but Harry decided that it would be funnier to hear Ron try and put into words what he was trying to ask. It was a sly tactic, Harry knew, but he couldn't help it, he was in too good a mood today to really care.

"Tell you what Ron?" he asked, trying his hardest not to laugh. Ron made an exasperated noise that reminded Harry uncannily of Hermione. Far from taking his mind off of Ron's tightening grip on his shoulder, this small thought broke Harry's concentration on trying not to laugh, and he burst out laughing right in Ron's face.

Harry recovered himself just in time to see Ron give him the death glare, which immediately sobered him up. The smile, however, was still planted firmly on his lips; it was if it had been permanently glued there, not that Harry was complaining. If it was there forever more, then every time he saw himself smiling, or asked himself why he was smiling broadly, he would be reminded of the girl. The girl whose name he didn't even know, and yet she still captivated him. The thought of her alone made him weak at the knees.

Ron, who was still giving Harry the death glare, began to speak. "You know!" he yelped, his tone a little higher than usual. "You've been smiling away all morning, and I want to know why!"

Harry looked at Ron, trying to let an 'I have no idea what on earth you are talking about' sort of look spread across his face. Judging by Ron's face, however, it was not working. Harry sighed and looked up the street towards the dingy pub he knew so well.

"C'mon," he said finally, "Buy me a butterbeer and I will tell you both."

Much to Harry's surprise however, it was Hermione who was far more interested in why Harry was so happy, rather than Ron. Harry supposed it had something to do with the look they had shared earlier that morning.

Hermione rushed back to the table from the bar, almost spilling the three flagons of the steaming liquid before slamming them on the table top. She sat down beside Ron, who was opposite Harry, her face eager.

"Steady on, Hermione," said Ron, half laughing. "What's gotten into you?"

"I am just as interested in what Harry has to say as you are, Ronald. Just because I didn't come right out and ask him, doesn't mean that I don't have an interest. I was going for a less direct approach. I was going to let Harry tell me what was making him smile so much in his own due time. And if my suspicions are correct on the subject of Harry's strange behaviour today," she turned to face Harry, her eyes twinkling, "then he would have most certainly told me before the end of dinner." She beamed at the two boys, Harry looked bewildered and Ron looked at her in disbelief. There was a long pause before anyone spoke again.

"It's official," sighed Ron, "I will never understand girls." Harry, who had just taken a large gulp of his drink, choked. Hermione however, simply rolled her eyes before turning her gaze to Harry.

"Right then, Mister Potter," she said inquisitively, "spill."

Harry smiled, and then told them what had happened on the landing, and again in Flourish and Blotts. All the while, noting the excited look on Hermione's face and the 'I can't believe you' look on Ron's.

He fell silent after he had finished his tale, and waited for their response. Ron was the first to reply.

"So let me get this straight," he said, "the reason you've been smiling non stop all day, is because of this girl?"

"Yep," said Harry simply. He turned slightly to look at Hermione, his smile widening even more at the look upon her face. She was smiling almost as wide as he was, and her eyes were twinkling with excitement.

"Oh Harry!" she exclaimed excitedly, "Oh Harry, that's brilliant! So who is she? What's her name? Why was she in Grimmauld Place?"

"I don't know, Hermione. I don't know her name, or why she was there" replied Harry, his smile faltering slightly at the realisation that he did not know who this girl was.

"You mean, you don't know who this girl is? Not even her name?" Hermione asked, sounding slightly disappointed.

"No. I've never seen her before, and there are a million reasons why she would have been at Grimmauld Place." Harry was beginning to feel rather disheartened, and his hope that he would see the girl again was beginning to slip away. "But that's not the point. As soon as I saw her, I was completely taken with her. She's small, but not tiny, like a cute kind of small. Her hair is deep brown and was swimming around her shoulders. And her eyes, oh her eyes! They were this gorgeous shade of green, I almost got lost in them! And I know she's into the same music as me, because she was wearing a Ramones t-shirt. And her voice, it's like music to my ears. I could sit and listen to her talk all day and never get bored, it's so beautiful!"

Harry looked over at Ron, who looked as if he might just throw up at any moment. He turned back to Hermione, who looked rather the opposite of Ron. The excited twinkle in her eyes was even brighter than before. She sighed in a satisfied sort of way.

"Harry, that is the single sweetest thing I have ever heard in my life." She said quietly. In almost an instant however, the happy look had disappeared from her face, to be replaced with an angry stare. "WHY IN THE NAME OF MERLIN DIDN'T YOU ASK HER WHAT HER NAME WAS?" she yelled suddenly, causing Harry and Ron to jump in surprise.

"Hermione, calm down would you?" Ron whispered, looking around him nervously. Harry looked around himself too, and was suddenly aware that everyone in the pub was looking at them. Harry silently apologised to them all before turning back to look at Hermione again.

"It wasn't that simple, okay?" he said, trying to look very interested in his half empty flagon, "She does something to me every time I see her. I get all nervous and choked up, I can't think straight and my knees go all wobbly. Besides, what good would knowing her name do? I'm already crazy about her; I don't care who she is or why she was at Grimmauld Place." Hermione sighed sadly before speaking again.

"Why can't there be more guys like you Harry?" she said sadly.

"Hey!" said Ron, "what makes you think I'm not like that?" Hermione laughed.

"Don't be so stupid Ron. I don't want to have to remind you of the Won-Won incident," she said, smirking.

They finished off their butterbeers and quickly apparated home, not wanting to be late for dinner.

Hope was lying flat out on her bed, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.

I wonder what Hogwarts is like, have Mum and Dad done it justice with their stories? How big is it? How cold is it? Is there really a crazy poltergeist called Peeves? What are the students like? Does Harry go to Hogwarts?

She paused her thoughts suddenly, horrified. Was he on her mind that much that he was getting in the way of her thoughts on Hogwarts? She needed to not think about him. What if she never saw him again, and all this thinking about him and fantasising and dreaming was an entire waste of time? She couldn't have it, she wouldn't have it.

Right Hope, she thought sternly, you will go through an entire thought process without it straying to him. I mean, I don't even know him. I only know that he is really gorgeous, has a brilliant taste in music and clothes, has the sexiest voice on the planet and is called Harry. Harry, what a sexy, lovely name that is too.

She stopped again, this time angry with herself. She couldn't even tell herself not think about him without straying off and thinking about him. She sighed, giving in to the defeat of her mind, and thought about him.

I wonder where he is right now? Is he sitting thinking about me, the small girl he met on the landing? No, of course he's not! Don't be stupid! Why would he be thinking about me? I mean, he only helped me off the ground and levitated my wand to me, that's hardly enough to make him want to think about me, is it?

But I'm thinking about him. Surely if I'm thinking about him after what happened today, then he's thinking about me. Hope sighed heavily, of course he's not. Silly Hope!

However, all is not lost. Just because he won't be thinking of me, doesn't mean I can't think about him, right? Yes, that's right. I can think about him all I like.

Where is he right now? Is he off in some club picking up pretty girls? Probably, he's good looking enough! I first saw him in this house though; maybe he's one of the kids that Molly was talking about! Maybe he's been right under my nose! Oh how exciting!

Hope jumped quickly off of her bed and stood in front of her mirror, examining her reflection in it. After much deliberation, she decided that a top-up of eyeliner was never out of order. She grabbed the small pencil and sharpened it hastily before applying around the outline of her eyes. She stood back to admire the result and smiled. She had always preferred the way she looked with eyeliner on, rather than off. She thought it made her look better, sexier perhaps.

Hope glanced quickly down to her watch, it was 6 o'clock. The party would just be starting now, and if he was one of the children Mrs. Weasley had been talking about, then he would surely be down enjoying himself, wouldn't he?

She didn't much feel like going down to party with people she did not know. And if Harry was down at the party, she felt sure that she would not be able to breathe long enough to even walk into the room.

Harry had propped himself up on the wall beside his bed. He was staring at the wall opposite him, deep in thought.

Where is she right now? He thought, dropping his gaze to his worn-in jeans, picking at a loose thread in the material. What is she doing? What is she thinking? Would she be thinking about me? Surely not, I mean, why would she? I only helped her up off of the landing, and levitated her wand to her. That's not enough to make her want to think about me, surely?

But I'm thinking about her, so why would she think about me? And what about that look she gave me? She held my gaze, with her eyes. Oh her eyes, I really wasn't lying to Hermione today when I said I could get lost in them. I really could, they are so beautiful, so pretty, so intriguing.

Harry sighed and stared around his room, eventually he looked at the open trunk on the bed and sighed heavily again.

"Suppose I'd better get this packing done, hadn't I?" he said, not really speaking to anyone.

He heaved himself off of the floor and began scouring the room for any forgotten items. He was glad he did this, for he found many items he would have sorely missed had he forgotten them. His photo album, containing the only pictures he owned of his parents, and many pictures of his friends. He threw himself onto the bed with it, and idly flicked through its pages, pausing every few pictures to appreciate the friends he had been blessed with. He rather felt they were his family of sorts; he didn't have anyone else after all.

He flipped over a few pages, and cringed immediately. At the top of the page, was a picture he'd always meant to throw out, it was a picture of himself staring idly in the direction of a pretty girl with long black silky hair. There was a small trail of drool running down his chin in the picture, and Harry shook his head. Looking at the rest of the page, he felt strange. They were pictures of himself and Ginny. In some of them, he was kissing her, in others; they were just holding each other, in one they were dancing in the common room. He was confused to say the least, not more than a few weeks ago he would have looked at these pictures and felt a pang of longing in his heart for her. He had missed her, and wanted her back so much, but his reasoning of breaking up with her kept creeping back into his mind.

Now, however, when he looking at these photographs, he felt no pang of loss or longing. He felt happy that their relationship had taken place; there was no doubt about it. But Harry didn't feel the same way about her as he did now, something had changed.

Harry's gaze fell upon one picture where he was kissing Ginny softly on the lips, and his thoughts drifted unsurprisingly to the girl he had seen today.

I wonder if she is a good kisser. I would certainly like to kiss her, but would she like to kiss me? Probably not, look at me. Ginny was the first person I'd ever met who wanted to kiss me. I've got an ugly scar on my forehead that scares everyone off, she would never think I'm good looking enough to kiss me, or even hold my hand, or go for a walk with.

He stopped his thoughts abruptly, was he really thinking about kissing this girl? He didn't know anything about her! He had seen her briefly only twice; surely he shouldn't be thinking such things about her? Harry sighed, decided that it didn't matter anyway. He would probably never see her again and all his thinking about her would be a waste of time anyway. Still, there was no harm in thinking about her.

Why haven't I seen her before? She looked about my age, and she sounded like she was from England, so why hadn't she gone to Hogwarts? I met her first in the landing, and what a beautiful moment it was. She looked awfully cute, she took my breath away!

Harry sat up quickly, thoughts running through his head furiously.

The landing! In this House! In Grimmauld Place! Maybe she's still here!

Harry jumped up quickly from his bed, forgetting entirely about packing his trunk. He threw open the door to his and Ron's bedroom and rushed along the landing.

Hope was torn. Did she risk walking around the weird house after getting her hopes up, only to realise that Harry was not actually in the building at all? She bit her lip, thinking. She could wait for later, she supposed, until the party was over. But he would probably be going to bed by then, and then what would she do? Sneak in on him?

Don't be stupid Hope, she scolded herself angrily, you're thinking as if he's here! Which he probably isn't!

Hope sighed heavily, she was right and she hated it. He probably wasn't even in the house at all. She looked over to the door longingly, desperate to leave the room and roam the house looking for him, just in case he was there.

No, she wouldn't do it. He wouldn't be in the house anyway. She sighed again, this time sadly as she sat on her bed grumpily. She now felt thoroughly depressed, and suddenly a new feeling crept into her. Guilt.

How could she be so disrespectful? How could she be excited about going to Hogwarts, and thinking about Harry when her parents had been murdered the day before? She was disgusted with herself, and soft tears began to fall down her face. She felt awful, she couldn't believe that she would tarnish her parents' memory so quickly!

She sat thinking for a moment or two, wondering if perhaps this was her way with dealing with it, thinking about something else. She sighed, still feeling horrible.

She swiped away the tears with her hand, and looked around her room desperately for her guitar. It was her only release. She spotted it sitting in the corner, still in its case. She sniffed, and rose up off the bed and went to retrieve it.

Opening the lid of the coffin case, she couldn't help but smile despite herself. She loved her guitar; it was like her best friend. She looked over the body of it, her gaze stopping upon two signatures, her parents' signatures. The tears fell again, hot and wet, sliding down her cheek.

She carefully lifted the acoustic out of its case, and rummaged in her back pocket for the plectrum she kept with her at all times. She eventually found it, and began to strum the strings of the guitar. She smiled as the sound sent a shiver down her spine, and Goosebumps all over her arms.

She played a few more chords at random, until she found a combination she liked. Hope carried on with putting together chords, until she had gotten a nice melody again. She smiled again, she hadn't written anything in ages, and she missed the feeling of creating a new melody out of nowhere. She took off her guitar and rummaged in her trunk until she found her notebook and pen. She quickly jotted down the chord combination, before playing it through again a few more times.

She sat back and thought for a while, then began to jot down some words, lyrics, onto the paper before her.

Harry walked silently through the house, careful not to wake anything. He had had too much experience with things unexpectedly waking up in this house and jumping out at you.

He was listening carefully as he walked, trying to block his mind to the party in the basement kitchen, and open his ears to any other noise within the house.

He walked along the top landing, and was disheartened to hear nothing of interest. It was only when he went down a landing that he heard something very intriguing. There was someone playing guitar, and singing at the end of the corridor. Somebody singing, and playing the guitar beautifully.

Completely forgetting about his quest to find the girl, Harry quietly walked to the end of the landing and stood outside the door containing the source of the music. He stood there, listening to the person play the song for a while. They were obviously writing a song, because the playing was disjointed, and every now and again he heard the scratching of a pen on a parchment notebook.

He noticed, after a short while, that the reason the music was able to be heard so well throughout the house, was because whoever was in there had left the door open, just a slit, but it was enough to let the light from inside the room slither across the floor of the landing.

He paused for a few seconds, deliberating whether or not he should find out who was in the room creating the music. He was curious however, as to who it might be, he knew almost everyone who was in the order, and to his knowledge, none of them played the guitar. But he reminded himself, that it was not just people from the order who stayed in this house.

He took a deep breath, and silently opened the door slightly more. He peered inside, and was struck dumb. He gasped loudly, but thankfully the music drowned him out. It was her! The girl! She was playing the guitar! And oh, how she looked beautiful doing it.

Harry was not sure how long he had been standing there for, it might have been 10 minutes, and it might have been 10 hours, he did not know and more to the point he did not really care. He was more interested in watching the elegant way in which her fingers moved around the fret board, and the hypnotising way she strummed the strings of the stunning guitar.

He came to his senses long enough to hear her play the opening chords of the song. She played beautifully, better than he had heard anyone else play in his life, but he thought me might be biased.

He sat down cross legged on the floor, and awaited the rest of the song. She finally finished the intro, and came in with a voice so magnificent Harry was surprised he wasn't knocked out by it. She sang like an angel, and he couldn't wait to hear more. Harry listened closely to the words of the song as she played, mesmerised.

Your time has already come and I don't know why

The last thing that I had heard

you were doin' just fine

It seems like just yesterday

I was laughing with you

Playing games at Grandma's house

well you taught me well, didn't you?

I hope I'm just like you

Do they have radios in heaven?

I hope they do

'Cause they're playing my song on the radio

And I'm singing it to you

You left before I had a chance to say goodbye

But that's the way life usually is

it just passes you by

But you can't hold on to regrets and you can't look back

So I'll just be thankful for the times that I had with you

I hope I'm just like you

Do they have radios in heaven?

I hope they do

'Cause they're playing my song on the radio

And I'm singing it to you

If they don't have radios in heaven

here's what I'll do

I can bring my guitar when my time is up and I'll play it for you

Tell me can you hear me now

if not, then I can try to sing real loud

What's it like up on the other side of the clouds?

I hope I'm just like you

I hope I turn out to be as good as you.

Harry couldn't move. He was frozen solid, and for one of the few times in his life, he knew exactly why. He hadn't been hit with a body binding charm, but the feeling was almost identical. No, he was unable to move, out of pure shock.

Those words. The words of that song hit him like a bludger when he wasn't paying attention during Quidditch. He felt close to those words, they touched him in a place deep inside his heart, somewhere even Ginny hadn't been. They described exactly how he had felt ever since he realised that he had lost his parents.

The tears were silently streaming down his face, he couldn't stop them. Not that he wanted to, or cared either. He was dumbstruck by the song she had just sung, so beautifully.

He sighed heavily, and without thinking said his thoughts aloud.

"That was….indescribable," he breathed.

Hope spun round suddenly, staring at Harry with wide eyes. Was he there, on the floor, looking at her?

A million thoughts raced through Hope's mind just then, thoughts like: Had he been listening to me playing? How long has he been there? Was he talking about the song? Were those tears in his eyes? But not one of them stuck so much in her mind as "Was he really there?"

Harry stood up shakily, his face red with embarrassment.

"I...I...I'm so sorry!" he said, before turning round abruptly and running along the landing as fast he possibly could, leaving her to stare at the spot where he had been stood.

Hope ran to the door, in the hope of catching him before he went any further away from her.

"Wait…" she said quietly to the deserted landing, "its okay."