A/N: WARNING: contains some pretty gross thoughts :P The kind of thoughts that make you want to bang your head against the wall. Can't tell you what they're about though. :)

It is with trepidation that I stand in front of this thick oak door. I can't quite find a reasonable excuse for not wanting to go inside. Maybe I'm tired of all the arguing. Yeah. That's a good one.

I don't bother knocking, just let myself in. But I'm surprised when it isn't locked. Seriously? They go to all the trouble of getting a Secret Keeper and casting the Fidelius Charm and all, and then forget to lock the door? Oh, Harry.

I slip into the library and get a book, a meaningless fantasy called On the Hogwarts Express, and plop down in my new seat at the dining room table. After a moments consideration I transfigure an armchair in place of the hard wooden one. Much better. I think I have a bruise on my butt from last night.

I've always loved reading and I start concentrating so solely on the book that I fail to see person after person open the kitchen door, freeze, and then slowly creep away. After about an hour or so of this – I think – Molly comes in defiantly. But I'm still too immersed in the book to notice. She starts making breakfast and I look up at a particularly loud clang.

"Oh," I blink. "Hello, Molly."

"Good morning, dear," she says, her back still toward me.

I sigh and decide to go in search of warmer climates. I should've lit the fire. It's freezing in here. Sometimes I just completely forget about magic, even after growing up around it all my life.

Entering the living room, all conversation stops. I have to say, I don't completely hate it, even if I can feel the awkwardness rolling off them in waves. Normally this scenario would send me running for the hills – literally – but being the person causing all the skittish eye movements is strangely relaxing. And more than a little gratifying, though I try to repress the feeling.

I'm not doing this for the attention, I reassure myself, but it doesn't quite work. It's always been this way. I can make up my mind on the life-altering decisions (or life-ending) but I need outside help for the little ones.

Should I get the blue, or the red? My decision? Well I'm not sure which one I like better … what about you? The blue? Yeah, I think so too.

It's sad and pathetic and I know it. But you try curing yourself of all your insecurities. It's not as easy as one would think.

As I'm thinking all this, I make my way over to a seat near the fire. Hermione, Ron and Remus are sitting almost uncomfortably close by, but I pretend I can't see them, can't see any of them staring at me. Do they think I'm going to burst into tears right here and now? Certainly not. I'd get my book wet.

"Good morning," I say pointedly, without looking up from my book, as nothing changes.

Conversation resumes with hasty awkwardness. I chew on my lip to avoid a smile.

I soon fall back into the pattern of the book and sound drops away as all I see are words and the pictures they inspire. Just sentence after sentence, flowing, melding…

And then I'm brought back to real life with a combination of a spelling error and hushed voices. Hermione and Remus, of all people, should know that hushed voices would bring me out of my haze faster than normal ones.

"-Fine, Hermione, she's doing that thing you do sometimes. I have to practically shake you out."

"Ron, just shut up, we're sitting right here!"

"Well it's not like I'm saying anything I wouldn't really want her to hear, is it? I just think it's a little ins- odd, then, don't roll your eyes at me! Just think it's a little odd how quickly she offered, s'it!"

"Well … well it's not as though things are finalized, are they? She still has plenty of time to come to her s- um, to back ou- to take it back."

"D'you suppose she went back home and lost it? Fred and George have a pool going. So far there's only three people betting that she'll go through with it."

"Three? That seems like rather a lot. I wouldn't have thought any. Who are they?"

"Three out of 'bout thirty, I reckon. One of 'em's Moody, but I dunno who the other two are. Fred wouldn't tell me, even when I practically begged."

"Thirty? But that's almost everyone in the Order!"

"Yeah, it was a hot topic last night."

"Well obviously, I was there. But when did all this gambling take place? I wasn't the first to go to bed."

"The twins went around asking people. Not surprised they skipped you. You'd've just cursed all their recordings."

"…True."

A pause. I keep my eyes flowing across sentence after sentence, turning the page when I run out. But my eyes are blurred and I can't see a single thing I read. It's hard to keep from blushing or smiling – for that's just what I do, remember, - but I manage somehow, keeping all my face muscles carefuly relaxed.

"Why d'you think she's so calm about it?"

"You know, Ron, I was just thinking the same thing."

"Does she want to die?"

"Ros- her? Suicidal? She doesn't really seem like the type. She always seems pretty happy."

"Yeah, I know. Well did'ya ever get the sense that she was, is, when you were talking to her?"

"We … no, I … we don't really talk."

"Pff. 'Course you do. You're girls. You all talk to each other. Bloody annoying."

"Well we … I don't … I don't know her very well."

"She's been in the Order for, what? How many years now?"

"It was like … um … Remus? Help me out?"

"It is extremely rude," Remus says instead, "to gossip about someone when they're sitting three feet away."

"Thanks, Remus," I lift my head and smile at him smoothly. "I think I'll just check on breakfast." I walk out of the room, leaving those that heard, wincing and Hermione and Ron dumbstruck.

"I told you not to talk about her!"

"Ow! Bloody hell, no one made y-"

The door swings shut.

I've always loved making a good exit. Or showing off my skills. When I was young, I would always insist on telling everybody exactly how I did the card trick, while they would urge me to keep quiet. I'd make a horrible spy.

I honestly don't know how Professor Snape and Draco do it. Which reminds me, Draco's coming this afternoon. Joy. Anther person to say 'are you sure?' and 'you know, you don't have to do this.'

But then again, Draco's not very interested in me. I don't think he could be interested in anyone but Harry. It'll be such a shock for everyone when they realize.

"Hey, Molly," I lean against a countertop. "Need a hand with breakfast?"

"Oh no, dear, that's fine," she turns her head to the side halfway to answer. Still can't see me. "I'm actually just about done, would you mind calling the others in?"

"Sure."

Ron and Hermione don't look up as I stick my head back into the room. Four different conversations cease instantly and the other trails off awkwardly.

"Breakfast's ready!" I trill.

Ahh, is it ever nice to be me right now. If I was born as one of those poor unfortunate souls that can't look up from their kippers right now I just might kill myself.

Oh.

Well kill myself faster then.

"Hey, does anybody know where Moody is?"

Normally you'd have never been able to hear me over the noise of the Weasleys, but now it's so silent that you could hear a Flobberworm swallow.

It's silent until Molly says, "Oh he never eats breakfast here, dear. I believe he prefers to eat at his home as much as possible. Especially since the Triwizard Tournament fiasco."

"But wasn't he ambushed at his home?"

It's very odd speaking to each other like this. She's sitting near Harry, at the opposite end of the very long table from me, and yet we can hear each other perfectly. I've finally caught the awkward bug.

"I asked him the same thing," she says with a strained little chuckle. "But he just muttered something about increased security."

Several people around the table shudder.

"Oh," I laugh, slightly awkwardly. We lapse back into silence.

Professor Snape's sitting beside me. He lifts up a piece of sausage to bite into it and it sticks into the air at a certain degree that makes my mind wander into disgusting territory. Snape with a boner. Gross.

I wonder what brings one on for him? I wonder if I've…

No. I am not going down this road. Aaand cut.

I wonder what it looks like?

Stop it! Shut up!

He looks like someone who'd be big.

Be. Quiet.

But then again, he is rather skinny. Maybe the rest of him is too?

Well there's no way I can eat the rest of my dinner now.

All shriveled…

I'm going to throw up.

My mind can be so disturbing! I actually slap myself sometimes, just to stop thinking. And bang my head against the wall. I've gotten bruises.

It's like there's an unknown little entity in there, whispering to me, tainting me with its dirty or spiteful little thoughts. It's not how I act, I would never ever do some of the things I think about.

Take, say … jumping off a cliff. I'll stand at the edge and think … what if? What if I just ran and jumped, right now. And I can see it in my mind, so clearly that I get scared that I might actually do it. Just forget that the image in my mind isn't reality and go for it. Not that that's ever happened yet.

I wonder if I have some sort of split-personality disorder? I shouldn't rule it out.

A/N: III warned you!! :)

PLEASE review!? I've gotten like none!! Okay, eleven. But ... :(