Fourth year was a revelation in many ways. I was growing up, and some boys noticed that I was female, even though my two stooges nearly didn't. I gave that some thought, since I know they're both straight and neither is blind, and came to the conclusion that they got to know me before that kicked in, and, as a result, they got used to thinking of me as a sort of boy, only with longer hair and living in a different dormitory. Much to my surprise, I discovered that this hurt. Of course, I had long since noticed that most girls my age, such as my flea-brained roommates, seemed to think that boys were just like girls, only with more muscles and different plumbing. At our age, that can be excused, but I've known grown women with years of marriage and motherhood of boys under their belts who couldn't assimilate the notion that hints and indirection may work well with girls, but with boys it's best to be direct. That was how I snagged Viktor Krum, by the bye, but that comes later.