After taking the last few spiral steps of the narrow, tight staircase, Harry Potter puffed out an exhausted breath from his red cheeks. His school satchel was overloaded with books as usual, and his back was curved into a painful arc on account of the weight. As usual. Dropping his bag and rubbing his spine a moment, Harry eventually reached up for the bronze knocker, in the shape of an eagle on the circular door, knocked three times and waited for his question.

Which duly came.

"How long is a piece of string?"

Harry smiled. This was an easy one. "Twice the length from the middle to the end."

"Very good!"

The circular door swung open and Harry dragged his heavy satchel into his Common Room. He was always glad of how airy this room was, it helped to recover his breath after the long walks up the stairs. There were a few students mulling around the tables and chairs, so Harry crossed the midnight-blue carpet careful, as he always was, to not step on any of the stars depicted in gold there. It was a superstition held by all Ravenclaws since time began.

Finding his favourite spot - a patch of floor near the marble statue in the alcove - empty, Harry sat cross-legged facing away from the other students, as was his way, and took out a few of his books, some fresh parchment, ink, quills and spare nibs, which he arranged just so around him. Then he browsed his homework planner and tried to decide which piece to tackle first.

"Got half the library with you again then, Harry?" Anthony Goldstein teased lightly as he and Michael Corner passed by. They were throwing a fanged frizzbee between each other, but Harry barely looked up as they came his way.

"You know, we have bookcases in here, Harry," Michael reminded him. "Most of the core textbooks can be found in them, you know. You needn't break you back lugging that lot up here every evening."

Michael nodded at the tottering piles of books surrounding Harry like heavy paper satellites, and grimaced slightly at the thought of how hard it would be to carry them all at once.

"Using just the core texts isn't what has made Harry the best student in the year," Lisa Turpin interjected as she hopped up onto the sill of the graceful, arched window next to the statue and started kicking her heels against the stonework. "So, what are you working on tonight, Harry?"

Harry huffed to himself ... he just wanted to be left alone to work. It's all he'd wanted for the past three years, but people insisted on wanting to talk to him all the time. And his Godfather had spent the entire Summer telling him about the importance of good manners. Harry had solemnly accepted the lectures, after all he'd nearly killed his Godfather when they first met three months ago and that wasn't the most auspicious way to introduce himself.

So he took a steadying breath and looked up at Lisa on the windowsill. "Charms, probably. It's the biggest essay we have so best to get that out of the way first."

"Spoken like a true Ravenclaw," Anthony nodded approvingly, before tossing the frizzbee back to Michael. "Get the worst one out of the way and the rest wont seem so bad."

"Exactly," Harry muttered, then turned back to his work.

But Lisa wasn't done with him quite yet. "You do have an awful lot of books there, Harry. Why have you checked out so many?"

Harry closed his eyes and took another lungful of air to keep his cool. When his little voice spoke to reply, he didn't look up. He really hated talking with people. "I had to. Didn't have much of a choice. Hermione Granger was in the library again. I mean, she's always there, but she checks out the best books if she can, so I had to get to them first."

"Was she bothering you again?" Lisa asked, crossly.

"A bit," Harry replied. "She always wants to borrow a quill or some ink, which usually means I'm left about half a pot down because I let her pour some of mine into her empty jar. If it's not that she always wants the book I'm using, so I either have to share with her or just let her have it. I usually just give up and leave her to it."

"Do you want me to have a word with her? Tell her to back off?"

"No. Thanks for the offer, but, I should take care of it myself. Don't want the Slytherins getting wind of me having to have girls fight my battles for me."

"Why not? Have you seen the Slytherin girls? They've got more testosterone than most of the boys in the castle combined! If any House knows about girl power then it's that lot!"

Harry smiled weakly. "Still, best not to get involved. I like you Lise, but Hermione could probably hex you a new bumhole. She's very clever, you know."

"Well, if you ever change your mind, the offer stands," Lisa replied sniffily. Then she pulled herself from the windowsill and headed for the girls' dormitory. Anthony called over to her as she passed.

"Off to write to your new pen-pal are you?" he teased. "You can always just tell me your secrets if you like! I promise not to laugh if you've got a hairy chest or something!"

"Shut up, Goldstein," Lisa fumed, then marched away up the staircase.

"No sense of humour, that one," Anthony observed to Harry.

"What did you mean … pen-pal?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Oh, haven't you heard?" Anthony said. "With all this magical co-operation going on with the Triwizard, some saddo has decided to promote inter-house unity by starting an anonymous pen-pal scheme here at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, imagine that," Michael added, coming over. "Sad acts with no friends writing to someone they don't even know. Pretty pathetic, isn't it?"

"Mmm," Harry agreed quickly. "How come I haven't heard about this?"

"Dunno. It's been all over the noticeboards all week," Anthony replied. "Why … not thinking of signing up to the Hogwarts Lonely Hearts Club yourself, are you Harry?"

"What? No, of course not," Harry volleyed back. "Bunch of saddoes aren't they?"

But that night, when he was quite sure everyone was sound asleep, Harry crept back down to the Common Room noticeboard, quill in his quivering hand, and signed his name onto the anonymous pen-pal request form. His signature sank into the parchment and Harry rubbed his fingers over it just to make sure it was gone, then he made his way quietly back to bed.

A couple of days later and Harry was sat in the library on his own, looking up Dittany in One Thousand and One Magical Herbs and Fungi. It was a Saturday and most people were outside enjoying the last of the October sun, or else visiting Hogsmeade as it was a designated weekend. So the library was silent and empty, apart from Harry and the occasional scratch of his quill as he made the most detailed notes that he could.

This was how he liked things best. Just him and his brain and something for them both to work on. He enjoyed flying, but he was good at it and had a top-of-the-range broom, so people tended to want to watch him, which was one of the things he hated the most. It had always stopped him trying out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, because that would simply put him even further on display.

And Harry was happiest with his solitude, comfortable in his own skin. People had pointed and stared and gossiped since he first boarded the Hogwarts Express three years ago. Ronald Weasley had encapsulated the mood of the Magical World towards him, wanting to know all the details of how he had defeated the Dark Lord, Voldemort. But Harry had been just a baby at the time, had no memory of the night at all, so quickly got annoyed at the constant quizzing.

Besides, it was also the night that his parents had been murdered, and Harry never liked to think about that if he could help it.

So, after a quick snap at hapless Ron revealed to all that Harry Potter had quite the quick temper, people tended to give him a wide berth, and contented themselves by merely talking about him, rather than to him.

Harry found that he could tolerate the situation quite cheerfully. He could get his head down and pass through the days with as little fuss as possible. The library was his favourite place, rivalled only by a little copse he'd found at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where he could sit out of sight, sometimes alone and sometimes with Hedwig. His owl was better than any human company anyway, nipping him affectionately for owl treats as she sat on his shoulder and looked down at Harry's school work, barking every time she spotted a spelling mistake or something.

But just lately Harry has been plagued by a new annoyance, one with the name of Hermione Granger. She was an academic rival at the top end of the grade scale, but they'd never really spoken about that. Not that they spoke much at all. Or at least they hadn't, until just recently, when Hermione had suddenly started trying to make idle chit-chat with him during all the time that they shared the library together.

And Harry hadn't been lying when he told Lisa that Hermione was taking all of his stationery. If they'd been friends, he would have considered buying her a year's supply of quill nibs, for all the times she seemed to ask him for a spare one. Then there was the book sharing, where she insisted on sitting next to him, invading his personal space so they could read the same book. And if Harry changed subject, she did too, and always seemed to pick the same one as him.

It really was quite annoying how she kept doing that.

So Harry was very pleased that today would be a Hermione-free day. She'd have gone with her friends to Hogsmeade and would be far away, which was how Harry thought he might like her best. After all, it was how he liked everyone else best. So the groan that was born in his throat, as the door to the library suddenly opened, can perhaps be well imagined.

It was a groan that didn't diminish, as the familiar tone of voice broke the silence of the air.

"Hello, Harry. I didn't expect you to be here today."

Harry huffed and closed his eyes, but he knew it was only polite to look up and reply.

"Hello, Hermione. Why aren't you up at Hogsmeade with everyone else?"

"Oh, you know, the village doesn't hold much charm for me," Hermione explained in a sniffy voice. "Once you've seen one sweetshop you've seen them all, if you ask me. And I don't really think they should allow kids into the pub without an adult, do you? It's really quite irresponsible, I'd say. I also have some work I need to do today, and it's easier to get it done in the quiet."

"Oh, if you need quiet, I can go," Harry replied, then began packing away his things.

"No, please stay," Hermione mumbled, placing her hand on Harry's parchment to stop him moving it. "Actually, now that you're here, I was wondering if I could talk to you a second."

"About what?" Harry asked, suspiciously.

"Well, it's just that … I noticed that you signed up for the Pen-pal Club," Hermione blurted out rather quickly.

"What!" Harry thundered. "How do you ... that's supposed to be private!"

"Oh it is, it is," Hermione reassured him in that quick voice. "But I sort of have to know who's signed up … as I'm the founder member and I need to know who I'm pairing people up with. Not much good if I put two Slytherins together or something, is it? What use would that be to inter-school harmony?"

Harry looked up, startled but no longer cross. "You started the Hogwarts Lonely Hearts Club?"

"Please don't call it that, Harry," Hermione replied meekly. "It's sort of like rubbing it in, don't you think?"

"Oh … yeah. I didn't think of it like that. Sorry."

Hermione smiled sweetly. "It's alright. You didn't make up that nickname, did you? It's probably come from the Slytherins or something."

"I heard that Ron Weasley made it up," Harry corrected. "He probably didn't mean anything by it. I mean, I bet he doesn't know what it's like to be lone- … I mean, by yourself … not with all his brothers around all the time, does he?"

"No, I don't imagine that he does," Hermione agreed.

"But I still don't understand," Harry went on. "Why would you start a project like this? I see you talking to people all the time. You have lots of friends, you don't need to be part of something like this, do you?"

Hermione sighed sadly. "I talk a lot, but you might not have noticed how very rare it is for someone to talk back. I have a lot to say, but people don't always want to listen, or maybe I don't know how to listen properly to them. I don't know. I've always been more comfortable with books. It's a one-way street like that, isn't it? They tell you things, and it's almost like they are talking to you. I'm not used to that where people are concerned.

"So you see, Harry, I don't have lots of friends at all. In fact, I don't have any."

Harry felt an unexpected surge of pity for Hermione Granger in that moment. He had never thought of her as lonely or friendless, she just didn't seem the type. And he felt suddenly guilty, too, for all the times he'd shunned her. He thought it polite to tell her so.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I never guessed that about you. And all those times you tried to talk to me ... you were just being nice and trying to make conversation, and I just brushed you off. That was rude of me and I'm sorry for it."

"It's alright. I'm used to it," Hermione replied, bracingly.

"That doesn't make it alright, not at all," Harry disagreed with a shake of his head. He felt very uncomfortable with himself.

"You can make it up to me … if you want," Hermione offered in a hopeful tone.

"How?"

"Well, like I said, I saw you'd signed up for the Lonely Hearts … I mean, The Penpal Club … Merlin! Even I'm calling it that now! Wait till I see Ronald Weasley later! ... ooh, he's going to get such a telling off! … anyway, it's supposed to be an anonymous thing. You write the letters on special paper, which encodes your words so only the other person can read it. Then you use a Penny Black, a special stamp which will be delivered discreetly for you to use, which sends the letter right to the recipient's pigeon hole on their bed. It's up to them then to get the letters in private. It's quite a clever spell, I think."

"Wait a minute!" Harry hushed, his eyes widening in shocked understanding. "Did you invent all this? By yourself?"

"Well, yes, I did actually," Hermione confirmed, blushing slightly at Harry's impressed tone.

"Wow. That's seriously advanced magic! Why aren't you in Ravenclaw?"

"The Sorting Hat actually considered me for Ravenclaw," Hermione mused aloud. "But I had my heart set on Gryffindor. I'd read it was the best one, you see, so I think I sort of asked to be put there, and The Hat chose it for me."

"You sound like you regret it," Harry observed.

"No, it's great, really," Hermione replied unconvincingly. "I wouldn't have made any more friends in another house than I have in Gryffindor."

"You don't know that for sure. You'd have been with more of your own type of people. You might have been more comfortable and come out of your shell."

"Has that worked out for you?" Hermione asked, quietly. "You did sign up for my Club, after all."

Harry toed the carpet a moment. "It's easier for me to not have friends. They always want to talk about … stuff … and I'd rather just forget all about it. Besides, trouble follows me around like a bad smell. Remember that troll in First Year? I just happened to be in the same part of the castle as it. What are the chances?"

"It was lucky for me that you were," Hermione reminded him. "If you hadn't seen me go into that bathroom, no-one would have known that I was there ... and that troll would have probably smashed me to bits. Lucky, really, that you were sensible enough to get a teacher and not try and tackle the thing yourself."

"Well … I'm no hero," Harry muttered lowly. "Despite how much everyone wants me to be one."

"Look, Harry, I'm not trying to embarrass you by asking you to explain why you signed up to be a penpal," Hermione went on gently. "Your reasons are probably the same as everyone else's. You want to talk, but find it easier to write things down than to say them in person. That's not so unusual, you know.

"That's why the project is anonymous … you can say something in a letter, safe in the knowledge that if the person you write to says about it to anyone else, they run the risk of their own secrets getting blabbed about, too. Not that anyone would know it was about you in the first place. I was going to put in a little jinx, that made that a punishment for spilling secrets, but I decided that was a bit too cruel, so I left it out.

"Though I think that most people who have signed up are genuine. They just want to connect with someone and be comfortable talking about private things with a sympathetic ear, even if they don't know whose head that ear is attached to!"

Harry grinned a little at that. "It's a really good idea, I think. But how does any of this help me make up for being rude to you?"

Hermione bit her lip a moment. "I started this project, but my name isn't down on the list. But when I saw yours there, I was surprised, and I thought I might actually like to have a penpal of my own. Alright, what I mean to say is … I'd like to have you as a pen-pal. It'd be different to everyone else, because we'd know who our penpal was. But I also know that your secrets are different to everyone else's … far more delicate.

"But I can promise you that I'd be even more discreet as a result. You could tell me anything you felt you needed to, in complete confidence, and I promise to keep your secrets, Harry. But only if you want to, of course. You might be happier talking about You-Know-Who if you thought you might be talking to a Slytherin!"

"Yeah," Harry scoffed. "As if I'd be pleased feeding Draco Malfoy more ammunition to tease me with."

"He wouldn't do that … would he?" Hermione fretted.

"You clearly don't know Malfoy," Harry retorted. "Nor Slytherin House in general."

"They cant all be bad, can they? There must be some noble traits there somewhere."

"Okay, Hermione."

"Okay? Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll be your penpal," Harry smiled weakly. "Sounds like you need a little educating about our Slytherin schoolmates, if nothing else! That can be my first letter to you."

"Oh … oh, okay. That's great!" Hermione beamed, her cheeks reddening again. "Um, alright then. I have to finish off Charming the special paper and stamps, but then they'll just randomly turn up in your pigeon hole, along with a more detailed explanation of how this all works. But I'll make sure a sign goes up on the noticeboards once it's all set to go, too."

"I'll keep an eye out for it," Harry promised.

"Alright, great," Hermione repeated breezily. "I'm going to go now. Alright then, so … I suppose I'll write you later!"

"I look forward to it," Harry replied genuinely, before Hermione turned on her heel and hurried away from the library.

Harry chuckled to himself. What an odd start to the day this had been.

Enjoying this story? Check out some of the others in my portfolio and don't forget my crossovers! They're worth a go, honest! Thanks for reading, and stay safe in these wacky times!