It was hard to evade people you were spending time on the run with, but Harry had managed it more than one might expect. He kept the locket more than either of the other two ever did, and he'd spend time by the lake.
He wasn't unaware of the fight the other two had, or of the tension between them, but it was hard to look outside of his own ready temper and misery to focus on theirs. His scar hurt, and Harry was starting to think it was just his own imagination. He wasnt' getting anything done, and Voldemort was, so it felt like his scar should hurt, and thus it did.
Which was rubbish, but how he felt nonetheless. He was failing, or it felt like he was, and it was frustrating even without the locket making them all feel like killing each other. He felt dirty from it, most of the time. Like he was carrying around this little bit of malevolence that wormed its way inside him.
None of which was Hermione's fault, or Ron's, but they were there, and easiest to lash out at, which he did all the time. He'd feel worse about it, but they did the same to him.
He held the Snitch Dumbledore had given him in his hands, turning it over and over, searching for some clue what it did and not finding anything. He frowned, looking at Hermione. "You've looked at that a thousand times already -r eally think it'll say something different today?" he snapped.