Lilly Moon was beginning to suspect that her relationship with reality was dubious at best.

The only thing she was sure of was that it wasn't like this before she went to Hogwarts.

The odd occurrences seemed unavoidable, though. For one, every time someone referred to her, they never referred to her as being in the same house. The other day, in charms class, the Hufflepuffs all said she was a Slytherin, and the Slytherins all said she was a Hufflepuff. No one seemed to notice this discrepancy, or if they did, they did not find it odd.

Lilly was also unable to remember which house she was in. She didn't remember what the Sorting Hat said to her, or if she was even sorted. She wasn't sure where she slept, only that it was in a bed. She was never knew which house table to sit at during meals, so she just hoped no one noticed that she "didn't belong". She couldn't even tell what colour the trim of her own robes was!

Originally, she wondered if she might be able to deduce her house by looking at her schedule, but that didn't help her either. At first, she assumed that since she had charms with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, she should be in one of those two houses. Except, she was also in history of magic with the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Thus, her true house remained a mystery.

She really wanted to try and figure this out, but part of her was afraid the she didn't actually exist.

And if she thought too hard about, she might cease to exist.

Lilly decided that she would rather be on the safe side. She'd prefer an enigmatic existence to not existing at all.

Harry knew Hermione was smart, but he didn't think he had an appreciation for how smart she was until he worked with her outside of class.

Harry was no stranger go libraries. His imbecilic cousin seemed to be chronically afraid of learning, making the local library one of the few places he could use as a refuge. But while he had been in the library out of a twisted necessity, Hermione was in her element. She moved from book to book with ease, her mind absorbing the relevant information like a dry sponge under a tap.

The girl's mind was unparalleled. Her ability to connect ideas and extrapolate concepts boggled his mind. And that wasn't even getting into the fact that she. Did. Not. Forget. Anything. Sure, he believed her when she said she memorised the whole reference book, but it was another thing to witness her recall whole sections from the book on demand.

Harry wondered if Hermione had some magical ability that improved her memory and intelligence. He hadn't heard of such a thing, but he wasn't about to write off its existence just because he hadn't heard of it. After all, he was far from an expert on magic, having lived his whole life without it.

Having her as a friend was looking to be a good experience. Harry was smart, but the Dursleys did their damndest to make sure he didn't show it. Being free from them for a whole school year with her as a study partner was sure to help his academics.

Harry turned off the water in his shower and threw on his school robes. The school robes weren't required, since it was still a weekend. He would rather not draw attention to himself by wearing muggle clothing, though, especially not the old rags provided by his relatives.

Harry left the dorm room he shared with Zabini while the other boy showered. Hermione was waiting just outside his room, just as she had the day before. Assuming that this was part of her new routine, he continued walking, Hermione silently falling in lockstep with him.

Harry loaded his plate up with sausages and some toast. Now that he was able to eat what he wanted, he had quickly fallen in love with the meat products he'd been so long denied. To his right, Hermione was loading her plate with her typical grains and fruits. Harry couldn't understand how was able to get enough energy from such light fare.

The sound of beating wings signalled the arrival of the morning mail, though Harry ignored it as he always did. He didn't have a subscription to The Daily Prophet, and there was no chance that his relatives would send him anything. He was surprised, therefore, when Hedwig landed in front of him with a letter on her leg.

"Oh, hey girl, I wasn't expecting mail."

Hedwig stared at him and gave a disgruntled bark.

"Well, it's not like I have anyone to send mail to, you know?"

Hedwig gave another bark and jumped in front of Hermione, much to the ire of the owl that had delivered her mail. Hermione appeared lost in the note that was attached to her package, so Harry alerted her to Hedwig's presence.

"Hey, Hermione, my owl has a question for you."

Hermione glanced up to see Hedwig defending her placemat from the standard mail owl.

"Hedwig's annoyed that I don't have any mail to send. She wants to see if you have any for her instead."

Harry saw Hermione gaze into his owl's eyes, wondering if she could sense the intelligence behind them.

"Your… owl is underworked? Well, sure, it'll save me the money that using a school owl costs…"

Hedwig's response was to peck Hermione's forehead.

"Ow! What did I do wrong?"

"She doesn't think you appreciate the offer enough."

Hedwig barked.

"Also, she wants you to give her some bacon."

Hermione, evidently baffled by the request, dutifully grabbed some bacon from a platter and handed it to the snowy owl. Hedwig barked appreciatively, then took to the air, bacon dangling from her beak, leaving a very amused Harry next to a very confused Hermione.

"Can you… always understand her like that?"

Harry shrugged. "More or less. She's quite smart, too. She makes an excellent companion when I'm confined to my relative's house."

Harry winced internally. He had tried to avoid any mention of his "home life", if the Dursleys' could even be considered a home. He'd prefer to avoid the sort of attention that information would inevitably bring him.

Thankfully, Hermione hadn't pressed him the other times he'd slipped up, and it seemed she had no desire to start now.

Harry finally got around to opening the letter Hedwig had delivered.

"Looks like Hagrid, the groundskeeper, has invited me over for tea this afternoon. Would you like to come with?"

Hesitation flashed across Hermione's face, before she replied, "Sure. Not like we have anything else to do."

Harry could tell something was bothering her, but he wasn't going to press her on it. After all, she had respected his boundaries; it would be hypocritical of him not to do the same.

Lisa Turpin really wished she didn't have to be involved in this.

Sure, her family had been courting the dark political contingent for a while, but being "persuaded" to take place in Theo's power grab… It left her feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

Not because of the politics, really. She understood her family's desire to preserve the old ways and ritual magic that so much of the light wanted to wipe out. And it wasn't that Theo's father was a death eater, either. Sure, the death eaters were excessively violent, but it didn't take a significant study of history to see how often violence got results. It wasn't that she thought they were likely to fail, either, though that was closest to addressing her real concern.

No, her concern was that she didn't know what would happen. She prided herself on her ability to gather information and plan for contingencies, but there were simply too many unknowns here.

If it was just Malfoy who left a power vacuum, then they could at least have relied on Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle, all families with history of courting the dark. As things stood now, though, Slytherin had too many rogue factors, at least in her year. Zabini, Davia, and Greengrass were all from neutral families. Smith was from a Light family, for Morgana's sake! And while Potter, Patil, and Granger were all loners, she knew there was no chance of any of them backing their little usurpation.

That left her, Theo, and whatever support they could scrounge from the upper years. Unfortunately for them, most upper years weren't interested in throwing their support behind two mere firsties looking to claim the reins. And with the way she'd seen Smith passing messages to the upper years…

Lisa didn't know what their odds of success were, and that bothered her more than anything. Theo cared nothing for this, of course. He was simply focusing on enacting the plan his father had laid out, considering the idea of anyone interfering hilariously implausible.

Lisa hated that most of all, and she knew that someday that kind of arrogance would wipe out his existence.

For now, she'd just play along, certain that this plan would fall apart, and hoping desperately that she was wrong.

Hermione was internally cursing her lack of social skills.

Sure, she now had a friend, but she had no idea how to interact with people, and Harry was just as clueless.

Normally, she would be content to try and figure out how to properly engage in interpersonal interaction with the passage of time, but…

Well, she'd never been able to celebrate her birthday with friends before.

And she'd really like to give it a try.

Especially now that she was apart from her parents.

But she had no idea how to bring it up. And just casually mentioning it seemed… awkward?

Pretty much every interaction between them had been somewhat awkward, but this one seemed especially so.

Hermione really wished she'd read books on how to interact with friends. Instead, all of her efforts went into books on how to make friends.

Knowledge that she never got to use, because she had somehow managed to stumble into a friendship with the only person anywhere near as awkward as she is.

Still, he'd wanted to go have tea with the groundskeeper. Someone whom he had said was his first friend. (That someone who took him to Diagon Alley for the first time was his first friend was another red flag. The more she learned about his pre-Hogwarts life, the more concerned she became.) She wasn't about to let her hesitancy get in the way of his only other friendship.

"Are you alright, Hermione? You kind of spaced out there."

That was something both she and Harry had in common, actually. They both tended to get lost in their thoughts quite a bit. Was that a possible side effect of isolated childhoods? Hermione was finding it hard to believe that Harry's childhood had been anything but isolated. The again, the behavioural similarities could be a coincidence. Maybe she should revisit some of her old psychology books and see what they said about-

"Hermione!"

"What? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about how we both tend to get lost in our thoughts and was wondering whether our behavioural similarities were the result of similar childhood experiences or if it was purely coincidental and how I should ask my mom to send me some of my books on… What?"

"I'll never understand how you get so many words out without breathing." Harry said as he shook his head.

Hermione felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment. "I hardly think it's my fault that my mouth struggles to keep up with my brain."

Harry… giggled at that. She had never heard him laugh before, let alone giggle.

"No," he said, "I suppose it's not."

"Besides, you have your own quirks. I hardly think you have room to criticise me over mine."

No," He hummed, "I suppose I don't. Ah, here's Hagrid's hut."

"How delightfully alliterative."

That made Harry giggle again.

Hermione realised that she liked getting that reaction out of him. It seemed like such a delightfully… normal behaviour for people as stunted as the two of them.

They might just get the hang of this "social interaction" thing.

The rapping of Harry's knuckles against the large door was quickly drowned out the the loud barking of a dog. Harry's flinch when the dog started barking did not go unnoticed.

Hermione knew that she was trying to respect his boundaries, but her curiosity was gradually eating away at her. Her desire to not push away her only friend was at war with her newfound desire to make sure he was, well, happy. Or at least alright.

The hut's door opened to the mildly imposing visage of a twelve-foot tall man. Hermione didn't think she had truly appreciated just how tall he was when they were being lead to the boats on their first day here.

"'Ello, 'Arry. Glad ta see ye come round. Come in, take a seat."

Hagrid began shuffling around the large house, putting the kettle on and leaving the two of them a plate of what he called "rock cakes".

Hermione's suspicion of any food named after rocks was quickly confirmed when a tentative nibble on the "cake" proved it to be as unyielding as its namesake.

"I know that he's nice," Hermione whispered to Harry, "but if these cakes are anything to go by, I'm kind of afraid of what he'll serve as tea."

Harry grimaced, but nodded. "He is nice, and while the food is… questionable, I do feel like I owe him. After all, he got me away from my relatives and gave me Hedwig. I would feel awful if I didn't repay the man who got me my first birthday present."

Okay, that was both alarming and sobering. Alarming that he hadn't received a birthday present until he was eleven, and sobering because it but her birthday woes into perspective a bit. At least her parents had sent her something.

Now all she wanted was some kind of acknowledgement of her birthday.

This meant that Hermione had to face her greatest challenge yet: figuring out how to casually mention something that was important to her.

She had no idea where to even start. This might take a while.

Meanwhile, an article about a break-in at Gringotts sat unread on the table.

Neville had no idea why he was in Gryffindor. He wasn't courageous. The only nobility he had was that he got from coming from a noble family. He was ready to beg the Hat to put him in Hufflepuff, but it didn't even let him get a single word in. It just rambled to itself about what was in his head then shoved in into the Lion's Den.

(That the Gryffindor common room was literally called "The Lion's Den" merely added to the irony of the situation)

He was none too fond of his roommates, either. Dean and Seamus were boisterous and loud, and Neville's quiet personality felt drowned out by their presence. Draco Malfoy was, well, Draco Malfoy. The two had been brought to several pureblood social events by their guardians, and Draco had never endeared himself to anyone during those times.

That left Ernie Macmillan. Ernie was stalwart and opinionated, but surprisingly mellow until something riled him up. If Neville was going to make any friends in his dorm, it would be with him.

He could only hope that their similar personalities meant they had similar interests.

Neville found Ernie resting in their dormitory, looking through some of his notes.

"Hey, uh, Ernie, I was wondering if you'd like to… hang out?"

Ernie seemed a bit taken aback by the suddenness, but he did agree.

"Sure, why not?"

Huh, who said making friends had to be hard?

Susan was finding out that making friends was hard.

She didn't get along with any of the Hufflepuff girls in her year. Despite her initial attempts to befriend Sophie Roper, she was an acquaintance at best. Neither Sally-Anne Perks nor Sally Smith had anything in common with her, and seemed put off by her passionate personality at times. (She wondered why the Sorting Hat put both girls named Sally in the same house. It seemed cruel.)

That left the boys in her year. There was no way she was going to be friends with Crabbe or Goyle. She had standards. Finch-Fletchley was a bit too stuck up for her taste.

That left Wayne Hopkins and Ronald Weasley, both of whom were engaged in a game of chess near the fireplace.

Those two were basically her last hope for friends she shared all her classes with.

So no pressure.

The real question was whether she should try and butter them up first or just force her way into a friendship.

Forcing her way in was really more her style. And, well, if they didn't like her real personality, then she wasn't interested in being friends with them anyways.

She may be lonely and desperate, but she wasn't about to fake her personality for companionship. She wasn't Pansy Parkinson, after all.

"Hi," Susan told them, "I'm bored. Mind if I hang out with you two?"

Ron's face contorted into an expression of pure bafflement, while Wayne's showed a more subdued confusion. The pair looked at each other and Ron shrugged.

"Sure, I guess."

Hah! Friendship acquired. Susan realised that it was possible to strong-arm her way into anything if she approached it right.

Harry's desire not to strong-arm his way into Hermione's issues was increasingly at odds with his need to know what was bothering her. She'd had an antsiness about her all day, and it was setting him on edge. Eventually, he decided that he'd had enough, he changed their route and headed into one of the dungeon's many unused classrooms. Harry's burning curiosity was briefly distracted by the wandering thought about why more than ninety percent of Hogwarts appeared to be unused classrooms. Though, the frustration returned once the door was closed and his gaze settled on Hermione.

"Okay, Hermione, what's been bothering you. You've been antsy and nervous all day, and even if we've only been friends for two days, I can tell when someone's bothered by something."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "As if you're one to talk. What's bothering you? I saw you flinch when Hagrid's dog barked, I notice your hesitancy to talk about your life before Hogwarts, and I notice your refusal to mention your 'relatives' in any vaguely kind way."

Harry flinched back at that. He hadn't realised his distaste for his "home"-life had been so evident. Then again, Hermione was exceptionally smart, and scarily observant for someone whose social ineptitude rivalled his own.

"That's, um, I just…" he stammered.

"See, that's what I thought. I knew well enough to respect your boundaries, regardless of my own selfish wishes."

Oof, that was a low blow.

"Look, I'm sorry, I was just worried. I've never had any friends before who haven't been pushed away and I don't want the same thing to happen here."

"You're not the only one who's never had friends before, you know." She said sadly.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "What was bothering you, Hermione?"

"I've never had any friends to celebrate my birthday with before…"

"I haven't either," he said before realisation hit him. "Oh, wait does that mean…?"

"Yeah. It's today."

Oh. OH. That explained the package she got this morning as well.

"Well then, Happy birthday, Hermione. I'm sorry that I didn't get you anything, not that I would have known what to get you…"

She smiled earnestly for the first time today. "Thank you, Harry, and I usually like books."

Harry scoffed. "As if I could find you a book that you haven't read."

"My parents always seem to manage."

"They've known you your whole life. I've only known you for two days."

"Then I'd say you have a lot of catching up to do, Mister Potter."

"Cheeky little…" He muttered as a grin broke out across his features.

As the pair finished their route back to the common room, Harry spoke up again.

"Can we make a promise to each other? I think we both need someone to confide in. Let's try and be as honest with each other as possible, so if we need to vent or whatever, we have a safe output."

Hermione smiled again. "That sounds good. Confidants?"

Harry grinned back. "Confidants."

A/N: Damn, I had to write so many socially awkward characters this chapter that I renamed it. The original title was "Postulations on Existence". My editor's suggestion for the pun name "Social Walkwardness" was immediately discarded.

Lillian Moon was originally planned to be a background gag whom none of the characters ever saw as being in their house. Instead, I decided to give her a perspective, and she'll probably get a subplot later.

I was also disappointed by the lack of Daphne and Tracey in this chapter. We'll be seeing more of them soon.

Thankfully, the next chapter is already mostly written, so there will be less of a wait for that one.