A/N: Thank you to my awesome reviewers; The Dagdah's Priestess, Mizuki Yagami, SuicideAngel1369 [blushes], JWOHPfan, Ralia [thanks for the constructiveness :D I'll try and bear it in mind!] and 101spacemonkey!

WARNING: Pretty graphic purging action in this chapter, guys. Sorry. I've put markers in so you know where it is, so if you think you may find it offensive and/or triggering, please give it a miss.

I wake up in my own room. I try not to pay any mind to how I got there. I want to believe it was mobilicorpus, but for some reason, I don't think it was. I have some kind of vague whisper in the back of my head that thinks it remembers Snape carrying me in, setting my down gently into my bed, tucking the sheets around me. I resolutely ignore it whilst I get ready for classes. When I leave my room...rather, Snape's room, I remind myself, the first thing I see is Snape sitting at the table frowning at his cereal. He looks up as I enter the room, and clears his expression immediately.

"Ah. Harry." He stands up and holds out a potion vial. "Drink." I force myself to take the vial and swallow its sickly sweet contents. He offers a nod of approval and slight quirk of his lips at my grimace. "If, at any point today, you begin to feel unduly...stressed by anything, you will find me, another teacher, or your friends. You will not secret yourself away somewhere and 'deal' with it. Yes?"

"Yes, sir." Like I'm going to disagree.

He stares at me for a moment longer, then nods briskly and sighs. "Right. I expect to see you in the Great Hall at lunch."

"Sir." He hands me my wand. I take that as my cue to leave, nodding my thanks as I get out as quickly as I can without seeming rude.

I can feel that stuff seeping into my bloodstream, polluting my body again, and I want it out. I have twenty minutes until my first class, which Snape presumably thinks I'll spend catching up with my friends. Personally, I think I did enough catching up last night. I hear voices coming along the corridor around the corner, and duck into the nearest room.

Which, by some hideous trick of fate, happens to be Myrtle's old bathroom. I lock myself into one of the cubicles and bite my lip as I hear the voices pass outside. It would be extremely foolish to even think of it. But...Hermione tells me Myrtle prefers the prefects' bathroom these days. And I won't have time if I have to try and avoid everyone all the way to the next empty bathroom.

-WARNING SECTION-

I kneel on the floor, sighing and berating myself for a fool. I throw some loo-paper down the toilet to reduce splashback, and suck my fingers into my mouth to make them slick with saliva, then push them further down my throat. Cough. Retch. Nothing. Come on. Further into my throat. And...there. It looks disgusting. But I'm not done yet. I repeat the process a few more times, until my stomach is throbbing, my head is aching, my eyes and nose are streaming, and there is nothing but bile. I must be a disgusting, disgusting person to feel a slight sense of calm and relief wash over me as I pull the chain, even whilst I feel grotty. I dislike purging, like that. It's...messy. Ugly. But still, effective.

I leave the cubicle and go to the sink to rinse the rancid bile taste out of my mouth, wash my face.

-WARNING SECTION OVER-

When I am finished, I look up to the mirror. I look awful, but right now, that is not what I am worried about. Because there is someone standing behind my reflection. With wide, transparent eyes, framed by awful, thick, transparent glasses. Myrtle.

Goddamn it, can nothing ever go right?? Calm, Potter. "Hey Myrtle," I greet her, trying to keep my tone light. "See, I promised I'd come see you again!" It sounds pathetically insincere and falsely bright, even to me.

She doesn't even acknowledge that I have spoken. "What have you done, Harry Potter? What have you done?" Her voice is rising in pitch and volume, and I cannot have this right now. Her normal morbid slant on whatever happens is noticeably absent.

"Nothing, nothing. I just wanted to see you."

"LIAR!"

Change tactics. "Myrtle, please." I know I sound desperate, but this is important. She can't tell anyone. Snape can't know. "Please, don't tell anyone you saw me here, please?" She seems to be wringing her hands. "Please, Myrtle. We're friends, right? Right? Please, Myrtle. Please." You're pathetic, Potter.

Her eyes drop to the floor, then flicker to the right. Then suddenly, her head shoots up. "I'm sorry, Harry Potter." And just like that, she shoots into the nearest cubicle, down the cistern, all the while me shouting after her to stop, please, just stop.

A/N: I realise it's pretty short, especially if you don't read the purge scene, but I'm pretty tired, and to be fair this is your third chapter in two weeks, so :P And I want to get this part out there, besides. I really hope you like it, please read and review, even if just to tell me that you hated it. I'm also sorry for what I'm sure was over-use of italics. That always happens when I write late, for some reason. I'll try to get the next part out asap. If I read it again in the morning and it seems even crapper than it does right now, I'll do a re-write, promise.

Also, I can't really remember what Myrtle calls Harry in the books. So if I got it wrong, sorry. To be perfectly honest, I nearly wrote her like Dobby, that's how thick I am this evening :P