Amidst the usual scramble to get dressed and out of Gryffindor Tower in time for breakfast, Harry and Ron didn't get to talk much. They both overslept that morning, roused only by Neville who loudly warned he was leaving and wouldn't be back to wake them again, and then they both raced out of bed. Ron had likely overslept because he was up late with his homework, while Harry had gained the first night of solid, uninterrupted sleep in months.

Hermione never waited for them when they were running late, and so they caught up to her, Lavender and Pavarti in the Entrance Hall. She greeted them brightly while Lavender and Pavarti were significantly more subdued, and then as politely as possible said goodbye and hurried on ahead. Harry didn't pay attention to them, surprised they'd even attempted to be polite about the fact they were avoiding him.

'You were asleep when we got in last night,' Hermione said in disappointment. 'Was Occlumency okay?'

For a split second Harry thought about his answer to this question, and then the events of the previous night it all came lurching back to him. Occlumency was over now…he was never doing it again.

'It was great, actually,' he beamed. 'I quit.'

As he said these words out loud his heart soared. It felt incredible. The world as a whole seemed a much nicer place now, and he didn't even care when a Slytherin student walked past and made a point of elbowing him. Ron and Hermione on the other hand were looking at him warily, sharing a glance with one another that was an entire conversation held in silence.

'What did Snape say about that?' Hermione tentatively asked.

'A not so subtle threat.'

'So…'

He looked at her as they entered the Great Hall. 'I told you. I quit.'

Ron and Hermione shared another anxious look, Hermione taking her seat on the other side of the table. For a few moments she sat there looking at him in concern, while Ron did the same as he helped himself to breakfast. From the corner of his eye Harry watched her in interest, wondering how long she'd be able to restrain herself. He hadn't even had time to anticipate the reaction of his friends, and thinking on it now Hermione's opposition was not to be unexpected.

Helping himself to porridge Harry began to eat, even though he still felt sick to the stomach from last night. At this thought his mind went racing back to Occlumency, flashes of it appearing in his mind's eye, the reminder that his blood ran in Voldemort's veins. But instead of frustrating or adding to his anxieties, today it calmed him. He was not doing that again. It was over now…he could go back to the way he was before, keeping it in the back of his head and dealing with it only when he decided to.

'Harry,' Hermione began in worry, most likely wringing her hands beneath the table. 'You can't quit. You have to learn Occlumency.'

'I don't have to do anything.'

'But, Harry. If-'

'I'll say this much,' Ron cut her off brightly, knowing when to head off an impending argument. 'Haven't seen you this cheerful in weeks, mate.'

'Ron,' Hermione hissed from across the table, leaning forward. 'We're supposed to be in agreement. Harry has to do Occlumency, no matter how awful it is.'

'He's been miserable,' Ron appealed. 'And I seem to remember us sitting in the Entrance Hall last year promising our blind support.'

Harry smiled again, remembering that moment fondly. 'You did promise.'

It was the wrong thing to say, for Hermione's eyes narrowed in annoyance. 'And you have my support - I think I've well proven that over the last few months. But Harry, this is different. This is about protecting yourself from Voldemort.'

There was a pause, and then Ron interjected again. 'Does this mean we can go back to taking the mickey out of Snape, and he won't see it in your head?'

'I guess so.'

'Excellent,' Ron declared. 'Because I've got some wicked crackers I've been holding back for too long.'

'Go on then.'

'When Snape sees a Boggart it turns into a mirror. Oh, and the Filch one,' he said gleefully, drumming his palms on the table. 'The difference between Snape's head and Filch's mop, is that Filch's mop is good for something.'

Laughing good-naturedly Harry continued eating, thinking about the day ahead while Ron came up with more insults as breakfast progressed. It was a wonderful feeling to be so elated and hopeful, to have this weight lifted off his shoulders. Hermione was still giving him that worried look, but Harry knew her well and could anticipate what she would do. For now she would let the conversation go, let him have his stand for a few days, and then slowly she would attempting to wear him down.

She did exactly that, and for two days she refrained from bringing up Occlumency even once. Then on Saturday the hints and suggestions started, little reminders about Monday night, and she grew more and more determined until Monday morning when she really hit her stride. By then even Ron switched sides, though his attempts to convince him were less confrontational.

For the most part Harry completely ignored their pestering, making a point of changing the subject or pretending he had gone temporarily deaf. It wasn't mature, but it was generally effective, and allowed him to keep his temper from erupting at them as his frustrations grew. It was easy for them to see it as black and white. They hadn't been through what he had, they hadn't been tortured by Snape and then forced to relive every awful moment…it wasn't their private thoughts and memories being exploited.

The first Monday since his previous lesson passed without incident, at least none other than the usual awfulness of a day of History of Magic, Potions, Potions, Divination and Defence Against the Dark Arts. As usual he felt mentally and physically drained by the end of the day, and he was relieved for the silence between him and his friends at dinner. Ron and Hermione were waiting on tenterhooks to see if he'd go to Occlumency at six o'clock, while he was even more resolute than ever.

'Harry…'

'No, Hermione,' he said tersely, looking up at her across Gryffindor table.

She seemed to be at her wits end, and she looked at him imploringly. Her worry turned to annoyance when Ron kicked her beneath the table, but he just shook his head at her.

'It's not us he has to worry about.'

He too knowing this, Harry looked up at the staff table. Snape had eaten and left more than twenty minutes ago, no doubt already emptying his memories into the pensieve, a luxury never afforded to Harry. He imagined Snape waiting in his office for him to arrive, growing more and more furious the longer he waited alone.

It was a delightful scene to imagine, though Harry's brief burst of good mood was waned by the sight of Umbridge sitting in Dumbledore's chair. She was usually there from the start to end of meals, even if she'd already finished eating she didn't leave, wanting to maintain her place there for as long as possible.

'You want pudding?' Ron asked, setting a piece of apple pie onto a napkin and wrapping it up. 'Reckon we need some brain food. You finished that Astronomy chart yet?'

Harry shook his head, having planned on doing that during lunch tomorrow. 'Still finishing the Transfiguration thing.'

'Pie will help,' Ron assured him, adding another piece to the napkin. 'Hermione?'

She was still looking at Harry in worry, but having done all she could she would have to content herself in leaving it to a higher power. 'I can't argue with pie,' she nodded her head.

With their slices of Apple Pie they left dinner and made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry was grateful that the subject of Occlumency didn't come up again. He almost held his breath as the time on his watch reached six o'clock, as if he expected Snape to come swooping down on him at any minute, but nothing of the sort happened.

In Gryffindor Tower they were disappointed to find their favourite spot by one of the fireplaces was taken, but they settled down nearby and waited patiently. The third year students there eyed them warily, Harry in particular, and after only a few minutes they packed their things and left. The strategy worked almost every time, Harry's mere presence enough to drive most people away. At first it had bothered him, but when it worked to his advantage he didn't mind so much.

Taking success when it came they sank into their preferred arm chairs and settled in for the evening, each of them taking out their respective homework. Prioritising the Transfiguration homework above all else Harry opened his book to the notes from last class, re-reading what the homework assignment was and then perusing his notes. But though his eyes scanned the writing he wasn't really taking it in.

As it often did his mind drifted in and out of focus, anxiously beginning to wander. It had been a while since he had one of those episodes, the moments where stupidity and weakness overcame him until he was a nervous wreck. Mentally he shook his head, ridding himself of that thought, but then his mind turned to the classes he had missed last week. None of the teachers had mentioned it, not even McGonagall…he wasn't sure he liked getting their sympathy.

What is wrong with me? he angrily thought to himself. He ought to be thrilled that he wasn't in trouble for skipping half a day of classes, especially from McGonagall.

He turned back to his homework, forcing himself to focus and pay attention again. He read the homework assignment again, trying to make sense of it. An involuntary yawn struck him, making it harder for him to refocus his attention all over again. Merlin…he needed another early night tonight…he was too tired for homework.

Compare and contrast the difference between the properties of Untransfiguration and the properties of general counter-spells. What is it that makes the process of Untransfiguration unique and different to a counter-spell, and how does this affect the caster and the subject?

Reading the assignment again he frowned, certain they'd not completely covered this in class yet. They had touched on it, having started last week some time, and there was a practical aspect in their double period tomorrow when the theory homework was due…but they hadn't really covered the topic yet. What was going on?

Opening the text book Harry flicked through, annoyed that although the information was in there they hadn't yet covered it in class. McGonagall might be a hard task master, but she never set them work they hadn't first discussed in class - at least not work she intended to mark, and she was making this one as if it were an O.W.L. paper.

He had just started writing his draft when he was interrupted by someone who called his name across the Common Room. Thankfully it was crowded and noisy that evening, meaning that although he heard his name being called not many others did, and so he continued flying largely under the radar.

Sitting up properly Harry looked for the person who called his name, recognising the sixth year student, and he caught their eye. Looking relieved to find him they made their way over, holding out a small scroll of parchment.

'Hey, Potter,' Liam said nonchalantly. 'Professor Snape asked me to give this to you.'

Harry looked at the scroll warily as he took it. Liam didn't linger, though he looked him up and down as he left, curious as to what the note was about. Conscious that Ron and Hermione were watching him Harry looked at the scroll, his mind automatically taking him to the deluge of hate mail that McGonagall was now filtering so that it never made it into his hands.

Did he really want to know what this said?

Going with an impulse he sat forward and then tossed the scroll towards the fireplace, but Hermione was quicker. With a flick of her wand the scroll came soaring back to him, slightly singed but still in tact.

'Read it,' she said, trying to pretend she wasn't interested by turning back to her book. 'It might be important.'

Now thoroughly annoyed with her too Harry broke the seal of the scroll and unfurled the slip of parchment. The only surprise was that the message wasn't harsher.

It may have escaped your notice, but remedial potions lessons are not voluntary. You will present yourself to my office immediately or suffer the consequences.

It wasn't addressed to him nor signed by Snape, but it didn't need to be. Confident no one else was listening Harry read the message aloud to Ron and Hermione, and then crumpled it up and tossed it into the fireplace again. Sitting back into his chair he watched the parchment catch alight and begin to curl, engulfed by the flames.

'That's someone who really cares about my wellbeing,' he muttered loudly, making his point to Ron and Hermione who were both looking at him unhappily.

'Harry, what if you ju-'

'No,' he snapped at her, anger spitting out of him before he could stop it. He couldn't help himself, not when everything was sitting just below boiling point. 'You really want me to go back to what I was like before? I was the worst person to be around, and you want me to go back to that?'

'You weren't that bad, mate,' Ron said gently, trying to placate him.

'We want you to be safe from Voldemort,' Hermione said tightly, looking as angry as he felt. 'Excuse us for caring that you're protected.'

'Well I'm not safe from Voldemort,' he snarled, picking up his quill and parchment again. 'Occlumency is not going to change that.'

For a few moments it looked like Hermione was going to argue with him, not liking the way he was speaking to her. But he turned back to his homework and began to pointedly ignore her, and so she too did the same, and not another word on the subject was spoken.

Yet again he tried to refocus himself, but the longer he stared at the homework the more he began to think about Occlumency, his sudden burst of anger taking a while to dissipate. He was resolutely determined that he wasn't doing the lessons any more, that he didn't need to. For a few moments he tried to clear his mind, to sit there with nothing at all occupying his thoughts, desperate for it to be true that he no longer needed the lessons.

But he could not succeed. Loneliness, anger, frustration…hopelessness…it was still there, bubbling beneath the surface and ready to spill over the moment one more thing went wrong. He had hoped that it was the Occlumency that was his main problem, that it was the lessons themselves making it harder to clear his head, causing all of the problems that plagued his thoughts both awake and asleep. But although the weight of it had been lifted from his shoulders, everything was still there…nothing had changed.

Trying to concentrate on one thing he could control he resumed his homework, now furious with McGonagall for setting something they hadn't properly covered. But after a few more minutes it clicked. His notes were incomplete because of the class he missed last Wednesday. That was why the following Thursday class didn't make much sense either, he had missed the whole first lesson.

Figuring he wouldn't get much goodwill from Hermione right now he asked Ron for his workbook, and then spent the next forty minutes type to interpret his handwriting as he transcribed the notes into his own book. But he made it through little more than a few paragraphs…he wasn't concentrating. Instead he was starting at the wall opposite him, not even looking out the window or into the fireplace that normally mesmerised and relaxed him.

In the Common Room around him he could hear the sound of other students, and when he glanced up his spirits sank even more. At the start Gryffindors had mostly stayed out of the gossip and rumours, loyally defending their fellow housemate, and after the Quibbler article they had been his proudest supporters. But now, most of them were just the same as everyone else, fooled by the supposed ousting of him as a liar.

He had lied about Cedric, he had lied about Voldemort and the Death Eaters…

Ginny was sitting nearby, talking with Demelza. The black eye she'd sustained in the corridor fight last week had healed by now, but tonight she seemed a little down…he wondered what was going on with her. It felt like weeks ago that they had hung out together playing Exploding Snap in his dormitory.

For Fred and George any criticism seemed to slide right off them, they seemed above it all and most students wanted to be on their good side given the supply of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. But Ginny? Though she didn't tend to take crap from people, it had to be wearing her down too.

Anger. Frustration. A lingering send of panic over unseen danger. Yet again Harry felt tainted, certain that he was a terrible person for treating his friends this way…if he wasn't their friend things would be different for all of them. Sitting there in his own misery he felt emotion welling up inside of him until he squashed it back down, suppressing it even though it physically hurt to hold everything back.

His heart was pounding, hands clenched so tightly he had bent his feather quill.

He was desperate to talk to Sirius, to call out to him on the mirrors, but he didn't. He wouldn't be able to hold it together if he talked to him, and Sirius would only freak out, maybe even do something stupid like come to the castle. Besides, he knew what Sirius would say. If he didn't know already he would only tell Harry to go back to Snape and apologise, to resume his Occlumency lessons no matter the toll. He wasn't sure he could bear to hear Sirius taking Snape's side.

His eyes felt heavy. Though he tried his hardest to keep them open it felt like an unseen force was enticing him - his eyes fluttered closed.

The Common Room faded, replaced with a scene of the Malfoy Manor drawing room. It was dark, the only light coming from the burning fireplace. The was conversation all around him, though it felt formal and perhaps a little tense…

'Oi. You falling asleep?'

At the sound of Ron's voice Harry's eyes burst open, and yet exhaustion enticed him to close his eyes again. He wanted so very much to fall back asleep. It was very warm and comfortable in front of the fireplace. His vision was darkening. A conversation that was not truly there began to permeate his consciousness. He saw figures nearby, a group of people in the drawing room…people who were not supposed to be there...he listened intently, casting his eyes around at those present, his most faithful.

'Here, eat your pie,' Ron instructed, opening the napkin and handing out slices of pie.

Sitting forward Harry wearily rubbed his face, determined that he could not fall asleep. The scene from Malfoy Manor slipped from his consciousness so quickly he was no longer aware he had seen anything at all.

Glad for the distraction he set aside his homework (still barely started), and took the slice of pie. Feeling Hermione watching him Harry glanced up, but she looked away faster, already turning the page of the book she was flicking through. He didn't resent her stance on Occlumency, he understood where she was coming from. But just as he started wishing she'd be more supportive of him he forced himself to stop thinking that way.

Ron and Hermione had never faltered. They'd been by his side through thick and thin, weathering the same social ostracism he did. Lesser friends might have ditched him, he wouldn't have held it against them, but they hadn't. The only thing they'd not been blindly supportive of was his refusal to continue Occlumency. For everything else, they'd been there with him, his strongest supporters through everything.

Guilt and remorse ate away at him now. He wanted to apologise for being an arse, to say he understood why they were worried and that he was grateful for their friendship. But it felt awkward even in his head, as though right now wasn't the right time to say it. Every apology he practiced in his head ended with but, and he knew that's not how an apology was meant to work. And so he said nothing, a silence he would probably come to regret.

Harry eaten only half of the apple pie, and so gave it back to Ron who happily finished it off, and then with a great sigh he turned back to his Transfiguration workbook, staring at the notes he had started. All he had to do was finish transcribing Ron's notes and then complete his homework, it wasn't even a hard task now he had the full notes.

All he had to do was concentrate…

A/N This mini sub-plot was meant to be resolving at the end of the next chapter, but things just weren't working the way I wanted them to, and so we've got another two chapters. It's a last minute rewrite, an improvement on before, but honestly if I had more time up my sleeve I'd be trimming it down a lot. But here we are - it's dragging on more than I would have liked, but hopefully an enjoyable read.