A/N: Thank you so much to the people who reviewed, and put my fic on their favs and/or alerts. Since femHarry is not very popular, I never expected such a response to this one; you've given me so much inspiration and I love you all so much! ::hugs::

By the way, in response to an anonymous review by SHE: yes, I am very aware that the first chapter was very alike to that of "Malfoy Ambition", but from this chapter onwards, things will be different. It might take a few more chapters before the fic entirely deviates away from the plot line of "Malfoy Ambition" (except the bit about the rings), but if the reviewer had bothered to read my previous Author's Note, it would be obvious that I'm not trying to steal anything from Goddess Blue since I gave her full credit. So, I'm saying it again though I won't repeat it in future chappies: absolutely ANYTHING that looks similar to "Malfoy Ambition" belongs to Goddess Blue and is NOT MINE.

DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me; it's really a very simple concept to grasp, people.

WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.

CHAPTER TWO: LIFE IS BACK TO NORMAL – NOT

Sometimes, Hariah Potter still expected to wake up to the shrill sound of Petunia Dursley's voice in her small bedroom at No. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey. For the first few weeks, it had come as a shock to wake up in a strange bedroom which she would eventually recognise as the one that had once belonged to her godfather, Sirius Black, and realise that she was at No. 12 Grimmauld Place; that she was home; that she was free.

This realisation came as a great relief to her this morning for she was, once again, awakened by a vivid nightmare, the likes of which that had haunted her in sleep ever since the Great War. Trying to calm her erratic breathing, Harry slowly sat up in bed, a hand unconsciously coming up to rub the lightening bolt scar on her forehead. The little souvenir of the night when Lord Voldemort had made a failed attempt on her life did not hurt as it was wont to do after nightmares that involved or was connected to the Dark Lord; it had not hurt ever since that fateful day in the Great Hall at Hogwarts when Voldemort had met his downfall. But the nightmares – always filled with the faces of all the innocent people that had died fighting the Dark for her, beside her and with her – always brought out the apprehensive feelings that Voldemort had evoked in her heart; and many a time, she imagined that she could feel her scar tingling.

Blinking back the involuntary tears that were prickling at the corners of her eyes, Harry forced down the guilt that threatened to choke her. They did not die in vain, she told herself firmly for the umpteenth time. I killed Voldemort. I brought peace back to the wizarding world ... they did not die for nothing. They were words that she had uttered to herself in the darkness for many a night. Harry knew that she was not responsible for the lives that Voldemort had taken. Time, mistakes and the war had taught her wisdom; her thinking had matured. She knew she was not to blame, but acceptance of that fact she still had not grasped; for the recollections of her parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Cedric and countless others, and why and how they had died always brought out the guilt that she fruitlessly struggled to repress.

'Survivor's guilt' her late headmaster would have called it.

Blocking out the haunting images from her mind, Harry got out of bed and prepared to greet the day. After a quick shower, she stood in front of the full-length mirror, pulling on her clothes and truly examining her mirror-image for the first time in many weeks. She had grown, Harry realised, over the past few months; she now stood at a height that could almost be considered "tall", whereas she had been stuck a five footer for most of her years at Hogwarts. Her skinny form had filled out and her jet-black hair, though still not well-behaved, was noticeably tamer as she had allowed it to grow over the years, and now fell around her shoulders, weighed down by its long length. The never changing feature was her eyes; they remained as piercingly green as they had ever been.

After combing the knots out of her hair, she left Sirius' bedroom and headed to the kitchen from where the delicious smell of breakfast was wafting out. As she wandered the corridors, she found herself admiring her handiwork.

No. 12 Grimmauld Place looked like nothing to what it used to be. In spite of what she had said to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, she had found a fair few ways in which she could put the Elder Wand to good use before she returned it to Dumbledore's tomb. The corridors and the rooms of the house were no longer dark and gloomy, but were bright and airy, thanks to a complete paint job on Harry's part. With the help of the Wand of Destiny, she had removed all signs of Slytherin-worship from the house, from the snake-headed doorknobs to the serpentine chandeliers, transfiguring them to look as normal and neutral as possible. Furthermore, she had managed to take down all the portraits of the Blacks, including that of Sirius' mother (a Permanent Sticking Charm was no match for the lethal Deathstick) and the Black Family Tapestry. These, however, she had not discarded because she knew that Kreacher, the house elf that she had inherited from her godfather, would be heart broken to put it as mildly as possible. Instead, she had given the elf a room of his own – at which he had thrown himself at her feet and sobbed his gratitude for well over an hour – and given him permission to hang the portraits and tapestry inside if he wished. She did not need a second guess to know if the deed was done.

All in all, the interior decor of the large house was definitely a lot easier on the eyes and more comforting. She now actually felt at home here, almost as much as she had at Hogwarts ... almost.

Kreacher was busy frying sausages when she entered the kitchen. He greeted her cheerfully and assured her that breakfast would be ready in ten minutes. Smiling, Harry sat down at the table, regarding her house-elf with bright eyes. Their attitudes to each other had made a complete 180 degree turn. Whereas they had first loathed each other with a passion, their sentiments were the opposite at present. And she was glad; because as Kreacher had finally warmed up to her and vice versa, he had become a fine companion to have.

'Will you be coming back for lunch, Mistress Hariah?' asked Kreacher in his bull frog voice as he placed a glass of juice in front of her. 'Mistress mentioned yesterday that she is going out today.'

'So, I did,' Harry murmured. 'I want to visit Mrs Tonks. There is a lot we have to talk about and I want to see Teddy ... so I don't think I can make it to lunch, Kreacher. Sorry.'

'Will you be returning for dinner, Mistress?'

'I think so, yes.'

'Then Kreacher will prepare stew and the treacle tart to which Mistress is so partial.'

Harry grinned at him. 'Thanks, Kreacher, I appreciate it.'

'And, Mistress ...?'

'Yeah?'

'If – if Mistress does not mind, will Mistress please pass Kreacher's regards to Miss Dromeda? Miss Dromeda was always very kind to Kreacher.'

Harry surveyed him carefully through her round glasses, recalling that Andromeda Tonks was Sirius' cousin and must have once been a mistress of Kreacher. She smiled at the house-elf gently. ''Course I will.'

Thirty minutes later, Harry stood in front of the door of Andromeda Tonks' house, ringing the bell. The last time she had seen her was at the multi funeral of Andromeda's husband, Ted, her daughter, Nymphadora and her son-in-law, Remus Lupin. All of them had been killed by Voldemort's infamous Death Eaters.

Overcome with guilt, Harry had apologised to Andromeda that day after the burial, though she had felt that her words sounded hollow and meaningless. But, unknown to her, her eyes had shown her sincerity and her guilt and Andromeda had seen it. She had pulled Harry into an embrace and the two of them had remained that way for a long time, neither exchanging a word, letting their tears speak for them. A bond had been formed through their silence, a connection that had no name and they had both sensed it, but the only acknowledgement given to it was Andromeda's invitation for Harry to visit her house at any time and Harry's grateful acceptance of it.

However, what with the aftermath of the Great War and the many funerals and whatnot, Harry had had no chance of doing so until today. Though she knew that Andromeda did not blame her, she could not help but feel slightly nervous at the prospect of facing the older woman; and somewhere in the back of her mind, there was also the excitement of seeing her godson for the first time.

The door opened and Harry and Andromeda faced each other, both of them smiling rather awkwardly at the other. Appearance-wise, Andromeda was almost an exact replica of Bellatrix Lestrange, her sister and murderer of Sirius, but her eyes were kind and her smile friendly, unlike her now deceased sibling. And though Harry had not known the older woman for long, she found that she had taken a liking to Andromeda; perhaps that was because she was the closest link Harry had to Sirius.

'Hariah, please come in.' Andromeda held the door wide open in invitation.

Smiling shyly, Harry stepped inside. 'Thank you, Mrs Tonks.'

Andromeda chuckled as she shut the door and gestured for Harry to follow her down the hallway into the sitting room. 'There's no call to be so formal, Hariah. Just call me Andromeda.'

When she entered the cosy room, Harry caught her first sight of her godson. Teddy Remus Lupin, son of Remus and Nymphadora, was a metamorphmagus just like his mother; his hair was currently the colour of a sunset shot with pink, and his eyes were a disarming violet. Nevertheless, the young infant was adorable and cooed at her from his place on the floor where he had been playing with some stuffed toys. With a genuine smile of happiness Harry scooped up the boy into her arms, after glancing at Andromeda for permission who nodded at her.

Teddy seemed to take an immediate liking to Harry much to her pleasure, and she spent the entire morning simultaneously playing with her godson and talking to Andromeda. The topics varied from the sombre death of all the innocents, including Andromeda's entire nuclear family, and the more bittersweet celebrations that were still in full swing throughout the wizarding society, mourning the loss of loved ones and celebrating the end of an era filled with terror and the new beginning that had followed. The more they talked, the more Harry found herself liking Andromeda and she could tell that the other woman was feeling the same.

Harry stayed for lunch on Andromeda's insistence; afterwards, when little Teddy had been put to sleep, the two women retired to the sitting room again. Accepting a cup of coffee from Mrs Tonks, Hariah decided to address one of the major reasons for her visit to the Tonks' household. She had noticed that though Andromeda had seemed glad that Teddy was getting along with her godmother so well, there had been wariness apparent in her eyes and Harry thought she knew why that was.

'Andromeda,' she said quietly.

'Hmm?'

'Did – did Remus and Tonks tell you that ... that they made me godmother to Teddy?'

Andromeda tensed slightly. 'Yes, they did,' she answered, with a slight edge to her voice.

Harry looked at her silently for a few minutes, wondering how she could verbally phrase what she wanted to say. The widow met her gaze squarely, and though there was no hostility in her stare, Harry could detect a slight aloofness in her.

'Well ... I ... I don't want to take him,' Harry said abruptly.

Andromeda blinked; that was clearly not what she had been anticipating to hear.

'I don't want to take Teddy away from you,' Harry continued in a gentler tone. 'I may be his godmother, but you, as his grandmother, have more right to him than I could ever hope to have. Also, you have lost your entire family because of me –'

'Hariah, you know perfectly well that I don't blame you –'

'Please, let me finish. You have lost your husband, your daughter and even your son-in-law because of me. I know that you don't blame me,' she added when Andromeda opened her mouth to interrupt again, 'but I feel guilty all the same; they died fighting Voldemort's supporters and they did it for me, to give me time to destroy him once and for all, but that is beside the point. The point is that, I will not have you loose another family member because of me again. I will not take your grandson from you, Andromeda ... and I know that you will take better care of him than I can.'

There was a long silence during which Andromeda contemplated her deceased cousin's goddaughter with tear-filled eyes; all the wariness, tension and coolness melted from her. With a barely repressed sob, she leaned forward on the sofa and hugged Harry briefly.

'Hariah Potter, you have been gifted with a heart of pure gold,' she whispered into her ear before pulling away. 'I must admit that I was afraid that you would ask me to hand Teddy over to your care. Not that I do not have faith in you, my dear, but I was so afraid that I would be alone again. My grandson is all I have left. Thank you, Hariah, thank you so much for understanding!'

Harry merely smiled sincerely in reply.

'But I will not be here forever; when I am gone, you will watch over him, won't you?'

'Of course; you should not even have to ask me that!'

They both smiled at each other.

'So,' said Andromeda, settling back into the sofa comfortably, 'what is next for you?'

'Hogwarts,' answered Harry simply. 'I still have my final year to complete as I dropped out of school last year to ... well ...'

The widow nodded to show that she understood. 'And have you been accepted?'

'Oh, yes; I spoke with Headmistress McGonagall recently and she has accepted me and a couple of my other friends who also dropped out last year.'

'And what field are you planning to pursue after graduation?'

The conversation extended until late afternoon when Harry finally decided that it was high time she left for home. Andromeda accompanied her to the door where she invited Harry to spend the Christmas holidays with her and her grandson.

'I'd love to! Oh, and by the way, Kreacher sends you his regards.'

'Kreacher?' Andromeda looked slightly confused before comprehension dawned on her face and she threw back her head and laughed. 'Of course, our old house-elf! Well, that was sweet of him. Please give him my regards as well.'

'Alright. Good bye, Andromeda.'

'Until we meet again, then, Hariah.'

With a nod, Harry Disapparated.

Truly, one had to admire Harry Potter's self control; it had been fifteen long minutes of utter mortification and she still had not run to the wall to bang her head repeatedly against it, all the while lamenting about how unfair life was to her.

She was, however, not sure how long she had before she finally snapped.

Currently, she was standing on a low stool in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions while Madam Malkin herself measured her up for her new school robes. Harry dearly wished that she had not entered the shop because from the moment she had stepped foot inside, Madam Malkin had begun a never-ending tirade of praises and a heroine-worshipping speech that had brought a blush the colour of the Weasley family's trademark hair to her cheeks. The blush still had yet to fade.

Wincing, Harry tried to tune out the voice of the older witch as her words of approval and compliments about Harry's victory over Voldemort became more exaggerated while she continued to pin up Harry's new robes, but it was near impossible; she had an irritatingly shrill voice that seemed to drill right through Harry's ears.

Maybe I shouldn't have come shopping today, thought Harry glumly; she was deeply regretting her decision to make a visit to Diagon Alley before heading to Grimmauld Place. But really, could you blame her? It was such a beautiful day with the warm sun that blazed cheerfully in the late afternoon sky that was as deeply blue as a star sapphire. Going shopping had been merely an excuse to stay outside just a little while longer after her visit to Andromeda.

In any case, it was probably a good thing that she had come a few weeks earlier than she normally would have. As the booklists had not arrived from Hogwarts yet (she had decided to take full advantage of Flourish and Blott's new and improved owl-order service when the list finally did arrive), the Alley was less crowded and Harry could buy all the other materials she needed for school with blissful peace. Not to mention the fact that the only other person present in the robes shop was an assistant, who stared at Harry with worshipful adoration (and had asked for her autograph), as opposed to an entire mob to hear and witness her humiliation. Yes, this was infinitely better.

Or so she thought until the little bell that hung over the door rang, announcing the arrival of another customer, and her emerald green eyes were met with gleaming mercury ones.

Oh hell, no.

Madam Malkin did a double take upon seeing the young Malfoy heir as did her assistant, whose mouth actually dropped open a little before she regained her senses and hurried forward to take care of the new customer. Obviously, the both of them had been keeping up with all the juicy news about the ex-Death Eater family in the Daily Prophet and could not believe that one of the objects of their avid interest was actually in their little shop. This behaviour reminded Harry very strongly of her nosy Aunt Petunia.

'Welcome back to my humble shop, Master Malfoy,' Madam Malkin gushed in a rather girlish voice at which Harry rolled her eyes. 'Here for your new Hogwarts robes, I presume?'

'Yes,' Malfoy answered in a voice that was almost ... civil? Harry stared at him, a little surprised. She had been expecting his usual lazy drawl at the very least, or a sneer. But his face was completely neutral and his eyes, while aloof, held no contempt as the petite assistant had him stand on a stool a few feet away from Harry. Maybe war has changed him for the better, she mused.

She remembered the time when she, Ron and Hermione, along with a couple other friends had been captured and hauled off to Malfoy Manor. A stinging hex had disguised Harry but she was certain that Draco had surely known that it was her; yet, he had not directly replied in the affirmative when the other Death Eaters had ordered him to confirm whether it was really the Chosen One – almost as if he had had no desire to partake in anything that was related to Voldemort. In some small way, he had spared her life when he could have handed her to Voldemort on a golden platter and received handsome rewards for it in return.

Maybe he really isn't the sadistic fool he used to be before.

Harry was shaken out of her musings when Madam Malkin turned back to her and began pinning up her robes again, the praise-loaded speech once more falling effortlessly from her lips. The blush, that had subsided somewhat, returned in full force to Harry's face and she ground her teeth. A changed man or not, she would rather that Malfoy not bear witness to her abashment.

Her face grew hotter when Madam Malkin's words began to go along the lines of 'Oh, Ms Potter, I swear that your powers were and still are enough to rival that of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Grindelwald combined!' Harry ground her teeth again; surely they must be half grinded by now! She chanced a glance at Malfoy, wondering how he was taking this entertaining spectacle and whether his new maturity meant that he did not give a damn about the scene unfolding in front of his eyes; she was infuriated to see him staring right at her, an amused sparkle dancing in his eyes and an ever-so-indistinct hint of the patented Malfoy smirk curling his lips.

So, he had not changed when it came to his sardonic attitude towards her! He still gloried in her humiliation.

That two-faced son of a deformed Blast-Ended Screwt/Manticore crossbreed! (Obviously, Ron's knack for coming out with unexpectedly creative curses had rubbed off on her too much.)

What Harry failed to realise was that her own maturity level had not increased by much when it came to being taunted by Draco Malfoy, no matter how indirectly it was done.

Conversion to the Light or not, he's still a conceited, sadistic twit full of decaying dragon dung!

She glared at him witheringly, which did not have the desired effect on that accursed smirk of his, and turned away fuming. Honestly, the only reason he was walking free even now was because she had vouched for his family! Alright, so maybe she had done it mostly for his mother to whom she owed a life debt, but still! He could show some gratitude instead of mocking me. But, no, he was Draco 'holier-than-thou' Malfoy after all. Gratitude was beneath him.

Good-for-nothing, arrogant, uncaring, 'I'm-oh-so-Slytherin' aristocrat!

Madam Malkin, Harry realised once she had tuned in the older witch again, was still not finished with her sucking up. Does she ever shut up? She certainly didn't act like this when I came here seven years ago. But that, of course, might have had something to do with the fact that Madam Malkin had not recognised the famous Hariah Potter back then. She glared down at Madam Malkin who did not notice the hostility that was being aimed at her as she continued to yak away cheerfully. All the while Harry could feel Malfoy's mocking gaze upon her and her fury, as well as her embarrassment, continued to rise. She could not decide which one she hated more at that moment: Madam Malkin or Draco Malfoy.

The older witch finally finished pinning Harry's robes into place and glanced up, her words coming to a halt in mid-sentence when she, at last, noticed the high colour in her prize customer's cheeks and the glint of anger in jade green eyes.

'Oh, my dear girl!' she laughed merrily. 'Please forgive me. I'm embarrassing you, aren't I?'

No, you think?

The soft timbre of a chuckle sounded from within the shop; Harry did not need to look around to know who was responsible. Keeping her uncharacteristically icy eyes fixed on Malkin's face, Harry dragged on a painful smile that was nothing short of insincere and made no verbal reply.

'You must excuse me, Ms Potter; my tongue has been known to run away with me on many an occasion.'

You don't say.

'Especially when I get started on delicious topics, and no one can deny that that of you and You-Know-Who is nothing short of mouth-watering ...'

Oh, boy.

At long last, Harry's school robes were ready and wrapped in brown paper and she was free to leave the cosy little shop that had begun to feel suffocative. As she hurried to the door, her robes tucked under her arm and Madam Malkin happily calling, 'Come back again soon, Ms Potter!' after her, she glanced one last time at Draco Malfoy; she expected him to make a taunting comment or at least sneer at her as she walked past him, but he did nothing of the sort. On the contrary, his face was expressionless again.

However, she caught the sparkle of amusement that continued to dance in his silvery eyes and had to fight a scowl off of her face, knowing all too well that his merriment was at her expense.

Git.

'Would Mistress care for second helpings of treacle tart?'

'Merlin, no, Kreacher; I can't take another bite,' Harry said, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms over her head. Even after so many years of neglect, Kreacher still proved to be an excellent cook and Harry, ravenous after her long day out, had eaten more than usual and was close to bursting now. With a contented sigh, she stood up, intending to go to bed early.

'Dinner was great, Kreacher, thanks. I'm going to turn in now.'

'Mistress, wait; Kreacher forgot to tell ...'

Harry, already halfway to the door, turned back. 'What is it?'

'Forgive Kreacher, but a letter came for Mistress this afternoon.'

'Oh, that's alright, Kreacher. Where is it?'

'Kreacher put it in Mistress' room.'

'Right; thanks.'

Wishing him a good night, Harry ran upstairs to Sirius' room (she still had not come to term it as her own bedroom yet) and immediately spotted the letter; Kreacher had placed it in full view on her pillow. Plopping down on the handsome bed, she ripped it open and immediately recognised the careless scrawl of her best friend, Ron Weasley.

Harry

How are you keeping up, mate? I've been wanting to drop by sometime (I'm dying to see the makeover you gave that creepy old dump the Blacks called home!) but something or the other always keeps turning up. Sorry about that, mate. Maybe I'll visit you some other time when things aren't so hectic.

Harry, I know that you said that you'd rather spend the remainder of the summer alone at Grimmauld Place, but just so you know, you can always crash over here if you want some company. Mum says that you're welcome to stay until the 1st of September if you like. We'd all like to see you.

Have you heard from Hermione yet? She wrote me a couple of days ago and sends her regards and love; she's gone to Australia to collect her parents and said that she's returning around the end of the month. Anyway, we're planning to go to Diagon Alley as soon as the booklists arrive. Is there any chance of meeting you there? If not, we'll see you on the Hogwarts Express. Can't wait.

Hang in there, mate. We'll see you soon.

Ron

PS: Have you seen the Daily Prophet? They can't seem to get enough of you! You've been on the front page Merlin knows how many times AND they have started calling you more names! The latest one was She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Forgotten or something like that. Had me in stitches, that one! Must be annoying, eh?

Harry smiled.

Same old Ron; it made her feel secure that some things had not changed, like her closest male friend. Sure, the war had had its effect on him, too, but Ron Weasley had managed to stay himself, at least on the outside. Furthermore, he had somehow developed a way of communicating topics with Harry, which the girl was not particularly enthusiastic about, in a subtle and indirect manner that did not result in her withdrawing into herself or offing her good mood. And sure enough, rereading the message proved this point; the letter, despite its easygoing cheerfulness, conveyed Ron's worry over her well being after the war, his family's genuine concern about her being all alone in Grimmauld Place, and his and Hermione Granger's eagerness to see her again to make sure that she was taking good care of herself. It was all there, squeezed in between the lines.

Good old Ron. He always knew when not to pry and how to address sensitive subjects, unlike Hermione, who had all the subtlety of a rampaging Hippogriff in that area despite her above-average intelligence and tact (how many times Ron had recognised Harry's withdrawals and put a stop to Hermione's inevitable mollycoddling!). This was mainly due to the mother-hen attitude she had towards Harry; her anxiety and worry over Harry's well being and state of mind overshadowed her recognition of Harry's need for privacy. Ron, on the other hand, always knew when to shut up and leave the Girl-Who-Lived alone.

She read the letter again, her heart giving a slight twinge as she realised that she was missing her faithful best friends like hell. She duly wrote a reply, giving a brief description of the new look of her house, her latest doings, reassuring him that she was absolutely fine and apologising because it was highly unlikely that they would meet at Diagon Alley like he had proposed. Harry sent her new owl, Selene (which was also snowy white, just like her old owl, Hedwig), with her reply tied to the bird's leg, before changing and collapsing on the bed. It had been a long day and she drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

The night sky above her, which seemed a cross between navy and obsidian, was dotted with millions of stars that twinkled merrily at her like diamonds in sunlight. A crescent moon hung high in the bejewelled firmament, giving off its weak silver light, and the Milky Way was distinctly prominent in the ethereal darkness.

The grass, which was a bluish-black beneath her, was soft and cool and the night was silent; not a sound was heard. From crickets' chirping to the blow of gentle zephyrs, all was quiet, and yet, it was comforting. Her eyes slid shut as she allowed the magic of the beautiful scene to enfold her.

The silence was interrupted by a sharp hiss that sounded from nearby. Eyes shooting open, she turned her head and saw a snake slithering over the grass towards her. Yet, it was no ordinary serpent. It was barely two inches in length and its body was unbelievably slim. In addition, its smooth skin was silver in colour, as if it were reflecting the moon light. It was small, but beautiful in its own unique serpentine way.

The snake hissed again and this time, she could make out the Parseltongue words: 'You're the one.'

'What?' She sat up, still gazing down at the snake. Somehow knowing that it meant her no harm, she picked it up carefully with her left hand. It curled up in her palm, gazing at her with pupil-less eyes that gleamed like a pair of onyxes at her.

'You're the one,' it hissed again and, though it was hard to distinguish emotions in a snake's voice, it sounded almost adoring.

She stared down at the little reptile. It gave off an aura of beauty, dignity and power despite its small size. And, unless her eyes were deceiving her, there was also a touch of tenderness in its fathomless eyes.

'What do you mean?' she breathed.

It stared at her with its enigmatic eyes before it slithered up her palm and began to curl itself around her ring finger. Bemused, she turned her hand so that her palm faced downwards. The reptile was firmly twined around the digit now and its gleaming body began to glow. The glow intensified until it became almost blinding and she had to shield her eyes.

When the white light faded, she saw to her immense surprise that the snake had morphed into a ... ring? It was a beautiful band that seemed to glitter in the moonlight and in the middle was a beautiful white gem. As she stared at it, somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice that was strangely familiar sounded:

'You belong to me, my beauty ... you're mine.'

Harry's eyes snapped open and her breathing was irregular. She stared up at the ceiling and was surprised to see the golden sun beams, which had managed to squeeze through the curtains, caressing its creamy surface. It was morning already? Strange; she felt as if she had barely slept, though her mind appeared to be sufficiently rested.

She sat up in bed, yawning and thinking about the latest dream she had had: something about a silver snake that had changed into a ring on her finger and said strange words in Parseltongue that she should not have been able to understand anyway as she was no longer a human Horcrux of Voldemort. Well, that was certainly a new one. The dream made quite a contrast to the death-filled nightmares that had become her nightly companions.

Shrugging off the dream, Harry raised a hand to rub the sleepiness from her weary eyes only to feel something hard, cool and metallic graze her face. Taking her hand away from her face, she glanced down at her fingers and did an award-worthy imitation of a beached salmon when she saw the beautiful white gold ring that rested on her ring finger.

What – what ... how – w-why ... wha-! Where the hell did that come from?!

A/N: Like we didn't know that would happen! ::snort:: lol. Anyways, so that was my version of a female Harry; I don't know if her character is good or not, but I hope to improve it in the coming chapters. I also know that there wasn't too much happening in this chapter (which is more of an after-the-war explanatory kind of chappy) what with Andromeda and all, but I didn't throw her in there just for the heck of it; Andromeda does have a role to play in the future.

And I should probably warn you right now that this fic won't have a huge, edge-of-your-seat swashbuckling plot; this is just a lighthearted fic I wanted to try my hand at. :)

So, please leave a review? XD Your opinions really count in writing a fic and improving my writing, so I'll really appreciate it if you guys gave me some concrit as well :D

COMING SOON: CHAPTER THREE - Of Rings and Engagements