A/N These next two chapters were originally one chapter, but I had to do a rewrite because the chapter as it was just wasn't working, but it's now just dragged out over two chapters. Not what I originally wanted, but it's where we're at. Other than the length I enjoyed writing these two chapters (particularly this one) and hope you enjoy what happens.

The next morning Harry felt no better than he had the night before, the only bright element being that he hadn't attended Occlumency. In a normal week he looked forward to Tuesdays, a semi-decent day of double Charms and Transfiguration in the morning, then Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology and Astronomy making for a somewhat relaxed afternoon.

Last night he had abandoned his Transfiguration homework, turning into bed a little before eleven o'clock. But he hadn't slept well, not when he kept waking with strange dreams, that Department of Mysteries corridor keeping him suspended in a state of limbo for most of the night. And it seemed his waking anxieties continued to manifest in his dreams, for he dreamt of Snape cornering him in the crowded Great Hall, holding him at wand point and facing his way into his mind without mercy.

That dream had abruptly woken him, his chest heaving and throat hoarse. It was a blessing that he had learned the Silencing charm, for surely he had been shouting something, but none of his dorm mates heard a thing. When he dragged himself out of bed he was felt depleted, and it showed on his face, but there was nothing he could do. He could not afford to go back to sleep, nor skip breakfast.

In a gesture of sympathy Ron had left his Transfiguration book and homework on Harry's nightstand, and confident that Ron had many times used Harry's homework he held no qualms in taking advantage. In the first hour of the morning he finished transcribing Ron's notes to get himself all caught up before class that day and then made a hasty, half hearted attempt on the homework itself. It was going to have to be enough, for he wasn't the only early riser in Gryffindor Tower. Other students started coming down, undertaking early morning study or taking their broomsticks out. As company grew his motivation faded, and so he hastily finished the homework before retreating back to his dormitory.

Later when they met in the Common Room he made a point of apologising to Ron and Hermione, knowing he had been an arse to them both. While Ron readily accepted the apology Hermione seemed a little more reserved in her acceptance. They arrived about halfway through breakfast, a time Harry normally would have avoided simply to not have to deal with the looks and whispers, but this morning he was ravenous. Besides, during the week mornings were about the only time he, Ron and Hermione had the time to simply hang out before the day of classes wore them down.

'Harry, Professor Snape is-'

'Please, Hermione,' he began, feeling too tired to even bother. 'For the sake our friendship, we're not talking about this anymore. Okay?'

Hermione gave him a long look from across the table, her twisted mouth holding back all the things she actually wanted to say. 'Okay, we won't talk about it anymore. Professor Snape on the other hand…'

When she gestured up towards the head table Harry's heart sank, realising what she had been trying to say. Snape, having seen his arrival, had departed the teacher's table and was now making his way down between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw table.

Harry had to physically resist the impulse to flee, to grab his school bag and get out of there. But pride made him stay exactly where he was, allowing Snape to stalk his way towards him, bearing the usual sour expression on his face. As he drew nearer he made a point of looking away, hand clenched into a fist beneath the table.

Keep your temper.

Snape stopped beside him, and from across the table Ron and Hermione were looking at him apprehensively. There was silence but for the chatter of students around them, and Harry held his breath and waited.

'You are to attend my office at six o'clock this evening,' Snape began, his voice deathly quiet. 'For the remedial potions lesson you missed last night.'

Harry continued to hold his breath, doing all he could to not start trembling in anger. 'No.'

'Do me the courtesy of looking at me when I speak to you.'

He resolutely stared ahead, and the silence was agonising as he felt Snape's eyes boring into the back of his head. Across the Great Hall he had drawn the attention of Draco Malfoy and his friends who watched on eagerly, hopeful they would see Harry getting into trouble.

Snape spoke again, in a low, threatening voice that he heard quite clearly.

'You can avoid eye contact all you like, Potter. But as you well know your skills in Occlumency are laughable. You will swallow your pride and accept that despite whatever else I did to you, you are free from the Dark Lord because of me. You will attend my office tonight, or there will be severe consequences.'

Across the Great Hall Malfoy was now making a spectacle of clutching his forehead, his friends around him laughing as they too looked at Harry, their actions drawing yet more attention. Looking away from them he stared down at his empty plate, mulling over what Snape had said. Snape was still standing there expectantly, waiting for an answer, perhaps even expecting an apology…well he wasn't going to get one.

It took everything he had to restrain himself from shouting the next words. Instead he kept his voice as low as Snape's, still refusing to look at him. 'Only Death Eaters call him the Dark Lord.'

That was his refusal. Having said all he needed to Harry continued staring at his plate, his blood boiling with rage he forced himself to suppress. From the corner of his eye he watched the Slytherin table, despising the lot of them.

After a few more moments of standing there Snape swept away, and he turned to watch him striding between the tables towards the Great Hall doors through which he disappeared. With a deep breath he tried to calm himself, relieved he hadn't lost his temper.

'Merlin's pants,' Ron breathed, his shoulders sagging. 'You should have seen the look he gave you. Thought he would actually strangle you.'

'Good,' Harry said savagely, enjoying Snape's reaction.

Wisely, Hermione chose not to comment at all. She was spooning some scrambled eggs onto her plate before offering the bowl to Harry across the table. He declined, taking a piece of toast and reaching for the butter, but then he stopped himself. A glance in the wrong direction had brought the interest of others to his attention, for though people normally stared today some had noticed his less than friendly interaction with Snape.

He tried to ignore them, but the longer he sat there the worse he started to feel. It was like there was a giant spotlight shining down on him, and even as interest in him waned it still felt like he was the centre of attention…the centre of ridicule. It began to feel very hot in the Great Hall, the palms of his hands sweating while his heart pounded uncomfortably.

Frantic thoughts were racing through his head, problems and solutions coming to mind faster than he could actually understand them. He knew what was happening, and though it hadn't happened in so long he was certain that this time would be different, that he could stop it through sheer force of will. Looking down at the piece of toast on his plate he told himself to do something, to eat…but his hands felt numb. He didn't dare try.

'I'll meet you at Charms,' he muttered, picking up his bag.

'Oh,' Ron said, looking alarmed. He had just served himself a full helping of breakfast, and was torn between the need to eat and the desire to loyally stick with Harry. 'Well i-'

'Stay,' Harry insisted to the both of them. 'I'm just going for a walk.'

'You are coming to Charms, aren't you?' Hermione asked in concern.

'Cross my heart.'

Slinging his bag over his shoulder he quickly departed the Great Hall, noticing Malfoy who was now standing on his seat clutching his forehead, loudly crying out. The Slytherins were laughing, looking back and forth between Malfoy's impression and Harry who was leaving. He paid them as little attention as possible, his stomach beginning to turn so terribly he though he might be sick.

As he made his way through the corridors he kept his head down, going against the crowd of students who were hurrying down to breakfast. He needed privacy, but there was no opportunity to put his cloak on without being seen, and as usual people's eyeballs seemed drawn to him despite efforts to go unnoticed. Wanting to get away from them all he turned down a quieter corridor and slipped into a boys bathroom.

The door closed behind him and his shoulders slumped, releasing the great breath he didn't know he had been holding. By some miracle the bathroom was empty, and in the privacy and solitude he let his guard down. Unable to make it into a cubicle he simply dropped his schoolbag in the middle of the floor and then bent over double, hands on his knees.

He needed to catch his breath. That was all, and yet bright lights flashed in front of his eyes while he tried to stay on his feet, to wade through the hurried thoughts that were coming thick and fast. Every breath seared at his chest, and though he breathed as hard as he could it wasn't enough. Desperately he tried to focus, telling himself he was being stupid, but he couldn't help it. He tried in vain to clear his mind the way Snape kept berating him to, but the pressure of trying only made it worse.

Snape was going to make him pay for his defiance…this was a battle Harry would never win.

His heaving breaths turned into a cough, but finally it felt like his breaths started to bring him oxygen. Having sunk down to one knee he had one hand clutched against his chest, the other on the flagstone floor holding him up. Feeling himself settling he stayed where he was, breathing in deeply as his head slowly stopped whirling around. But his heart would not slow down, and it continued racing inside of his chest, its persistence still leaving him on edge.

Something was wrong…something had to be wrong…

A minute later he staggered back to his feet, feeling feverish and faint. Still shaking he made his way over to the sinks, shivering as he ran some cold water to wash his face. When he looked at himself in the mirror he seemed pale, his eyes red and bloodshot - his face alone would be enough to get him out of the rest of his classes, no questions asked.

Turning off the tap he put his glasses back on and looked into the sink, trying to think. He was dreading what Snape must be doing right now, his reaction to Harry's defiance. Surely he was still in contact with Dumbledore, who likely already knew of the row that happened last Wednesday and Harry's absence last night.

Snape would win this. He would appeal to Dumbledore, to Sirius…they would make him go back. With a breath that disguised a miserable sob he turned on the tap again, washing his face a second time. His stomach continued to writhe, but finally he felt like himself again…if only for a minute.

His good fortune at having found privacy was indeed too good to be true. The bathroom door opened, and Harry's heart quickly sank into the pit of his stomach as he hurried to put his glasses back on. But it sank even further when he looked up to see Malfoy and Nott stepping into the bathroom. They looked at his reflection in the mirror, watching him as the door swung shut behind them.

Looking at their reflection in the mirror he lowered his head again, gripping the edge of the sink. Shit. This had to be the stuff of Malfoy's wildest dreams. To find Harry Potter alone and crying in the bathroom, completely vulnerable.

The only consolation was that Malfoy's wand was not drawn.

He had glimpsed the Inquisitorial Squad badges Malfoy and Nott wore on the front of their robes, a sight which would have pissed him off any other day. Malfoy and his cronies were the ones that had been following him around the school, who had helped Umbridge bust up the DA and get rid of Dumbledore. Harry had been skirting him for weeks, avoiding a confrontation and keeping his head down just as Sirius kept telling him.

It seemed all bets were off if Malfoy and Nott were cornering him in the bathroom alone. But no matter what was said next, he was not going to make the first move. If Malfoy wanted a fight he would have to start it…he wouldn't give Umbridge any means to make his life worse than it already was. And whether he liked it or not, Malfoy occupied the advantage while ever he was in Umbridge's pocket.

'My father enjoyed his visit to the school,' Malfoy began, speaking first. He seemed to labour over his words, revelling in his advantage. 'Standards have certainly picked up since Dumbledore got the boot.' There was a pause as Malfoy waited for him to react. 'The great oaf will be next.'

He ought to be seething in anger. He had spent many hours agonising over his hatred of Malfoy, despising his role as Umbridge's steed and the part he played in the DA being caught…for what his father had done to him. But instead he felt calm and measured, ready to deal with whatever Malfoy threw at him.

'What do you want, Malfoy?'

Malfoy reached for his wand.

Instinct was as natural as breathing. In the split second that Malfoy made his move so too did Harry, and he would have been the first to draw - if he had his wand, that was.

Harry froze. His heart stilled inside his chest. In a moment of sheer panic he found his wand was not in his pocket, his hand fumbling and clenching on nothing more than the fabric of his robes. A sinking feeling overcame him, fear making him feel like blood was literally draining out of his body. Where was his wand?

Whirling around he looked at Malfoy, and then he saw his wand on the floor where he had dropped his schoolbag. It must have slipped out of his pocket when he came inside, when he sank down to his hands and knees as he tried to regain control of himself. Nott and Malfoy were laughing at him, and flaunting his advantageous position Malfoy came forward and slowly placed his foot on top of his wand.

Malfoy's foot pressed down on Harry's wand, the motion making him flinch and nearly shout. Taking great pleasure in his enemy's discomfort he began to roll the wand back and forth along the stone floor, the thin stick of wood clattering ominously. He was holding his breath as he watched. His wand, always so reliable and comfortable, the wand that had genuinely saved his life on more than one occasion…under the toe of Malfoy's shoe it seemed more fragile than it had ever been.

Malfoy might as well have his foot on Harry's neck, and he knew it. A glint in his eye accompanied the smirk as he enjoyed this torturous moment.

Finally Malfoy came forward again, and he kicked Harry's wand behind himself. It rolled across the stone floor undamaged, far out of reach but safe, and it allowed him to release the breath he had been holding. He looked back at Malfoy, his entire being suspended in anticipation of the attack that was about to come. There were no witnesses, nothing to stop Malfoy. For the second time that morning he resisted the impulse to flee or take a defensive position. Instead he straightened his stance, facing his would-be attackers.

'Father sends you his regards,' Malfoy said cooly, lifting his chin as he stared at him. 'He speaks so highly of your time at our Manor. He showed me, of course. You in our cellar...crying, and screaming. Begging.'

Nott snorted in derision. 'Begging like a filthy Muggle.'

For whatever reason Malfoy wanted a fight, and for a brief moment Harry considered letting him attack. He didn't care - he didn't. But this thought passed quickly, and was soon replaced by a fire that swelled inside of him, one that fuelled both his best and worst impulses. In that instance he no longer cared that Malfoy was probably lying, that what he said didn't betray any true intimate knowledge of what happened to him in that cellar. He just let it wash over him, releasing the tight grip he had on his self-control and liberating himself...

He started towards Malfoy, unafraid of facing him without a wand, and Malfoy did not back down. 'Watch yourself, Malfoy. When I've put your father in Azkaban and Voldemort wants his pound of flesh, who do you think he'll take it from?'

When Malfoy began to raise his wand he quickly stepped forward again, shoving him. 'Do you actually think you're safe from what's coming next?' he demanded. 'Your father can't protect you. You'll have a Dark Mark on your arm by the end of the summer.'

They were practically standing nose to nose, both ready and willing to lay the first blow, and Malfoy - he was shaking not in fear but in anticipation. The silence felt excruciating, but Harry would not back down. They were too far gone now…this had to happen.

'A mark I'll wear proudly,'

'Then start now,' he challenged, matching his low whisper. 'Go on, Death Eater. I'm unarmed, just how you all like me. Start now...or walk away.'

At this comment Malfoy's demeanour switched. Though he didn't quite back down it seemed like some sense had just returned to him. He lifted his chin again. 'I am above petty duels, Potter,' he sneered, stepping backwards and then gesturing to the Inquisitorial Squad badge pinned to his robes.

Malfoy and Nott both turned away now, leaving as abruptly as they had arrived, and for the second time that day he felt himself snap. Rage was simmering beneath the surface, stoked and fuelled by Malfoy's antagonism and pushed over the edge by his sudden about-face. What gave him the right to provoke a fight and then walk away?

'I knew it,' he spat. 'A coward like your father.'

When Malfoy attacked it was a relief. Harry barely even saw him move before something whip-like struck him across the face, the sheer force knocking him backwards into a stumble. The pain was immense, burning white hot as he regained his footing and clutched at his face, feeling for an open wound, for blood coursing over his fingers - but there was nothing.

Nott was laughing savagely, egging Malfoy on who was shouting something, but Harry didn't pay attention. Taking his hand off his face he whirled to orient himself, laying eyes on his fallen wand and concentrating on it with all his might.

'Accio - wand!'

Malfoy struck him again, the same curse walloping him across the stomach and making him double over - but his wand came soaring into his outstretched hand. He could barely draw breath through the white hot agony, his stomach muscles feeling like they were seizing up. Looking up he wildly brandished his wand and watched Malfoy stumble, and the split second was all he needed.

'Incarcerous!'

His curse missed by an inch, as did Malfoy's return attack, and now both on even footing they duelled, blocking and attacking in a desperate attempt to lay a winning blow. Not to his surprise Malfoy was fighting dirty, a blasting charm elevating this beyond a schoolboy duel with the threat of doing actual harm. Meanwhile Nott stood back, armed and ready, allowing them to duel without interference.

A rubbish bin exploded when Malfoy blocked a stunning spell, and then the wall directly behind Harry showered him with shattered tiles when he dodged Malfoy's next blasting spell. Shielding himself from the debris he nearly panicked when Malfoy struck him again, and this time the whip-like blow to the back of his legs brought him to his knees with a pained gasp.

'Epugno!'

Harry's abandoned schoolbag went soaring - books, flask, ink bottles and quills launched themselves at Malfoy over and over again in a chaotic but effective frenzy. He shouted in surprise, ink spattering all over him as he tried to fend off the Monster Book of Monsters. It had been freed from its binding and was latched around his ankle, snarling rabidly as he began yelling. He floundered helplessly, batting away quills that seemed determined to lodge themselves up his nostrils.

A freed decoy detonator exploded on the other side of the room, startling Nott into action. Raising his wand he came forward now, violating the rules of a duel.

'No!' Malfoy shouted. 'He's mine!'

'Diffindo!'

A shield charm clumsily deflected Nott's curse, which just caught the sleeve of his robe. But he didn't falter, not caring that they might fight dirty - he'd take them both on alone, and he gladly did. While Malfoy tried to fend off his numerous attackers to no avail Nott made for an easy opponent.

Cocky and careless, he was far from the strengths of Malfoy. Harry quickly outmatched him. He blocked the next curse Nott fired, the bright blue light bouncing off his shield charm and flying right back at its caster. In a panic Nott threw his arms up to protect himself, yelling when his own curse struck and bright red blood spattered from his hands. He was vividly reminded of how he got the scars on his own left arm, that he too had tried to protect himself with only his bare hands the day Snape had attacked him on Voldemort's orders.

Malfoy was on his knees, fending off the last of Harry's belongings that he had yet to immobilise. Nearby the Monster Book of Monsters quivered on the bathroom floor, having been beaten back and then paralysed by indecision about who it ought to attack next. A further two decoy detonators exploded, adding to the chaos.

'Imm - Immobulus!' Malfoy shouted, still fending off some particularly determined quills. 'Immobulus!'

From the corridor outside came a loud shout and a bang - and then a scuffle, but he did not pay attention. There was a lull as he stood there and watched his attackers, Malfoy under siege while Nott was clutching his bleeding arm, gasping and wincing as blood trickled down his hands. He couldn't help but enjoy how perfectly the tables had turned, and that this time it wasn't him on the floor bleeding and gasping in pain.

An impulse very nearly took over him - the sudden desire to hurt them, and the twitch of his hand that suggested he would…

'Expelliarmus.'

Malfoy's wand soared out of his grip and into Harry's hand, rendering him useless. In a small act of mercy he immobilised the last of his attacking belongings, but Malfoy was not ready to be subdued. With a wild yell he scrambled back to his feet and charged at Harry, who took great pleasure in hitting him with the Jelly-Legs Curse. He fell spectacularly, hitting the stone floor when his legs gave out beneath him and became nothing more than limbs of muscle and bone that did not work.

Despite his bleeding wound Nott too was still very much a threat. Though he attempted to conceal what he was doing Nott pointed his wand at whispered a curse, one that shone bright blue and gave a loud bang when it hit Harry's shield charm.

'Protegro - Ricktusempra!'

At once Nott's eyes widened in alarm as he began to laugh, the sound completely at odds with his panicked expression. He leant over to clutch his stomach, smearing his school jumper and robes with blood. Admirably he maintained a vice grip on his wand, and for a moment Harry watched in amusement as Malfoy hurriedly dragged himself across the bathroom floor to reach it. His legs were splayed out behind him, weighing him down.

The bathroom door opened as Ron and Hermione came bursting in, Shield Charms already raised to protect themselves as they entered the unknown. They hurriedly looked around, their brow furrowing as they took stock of the situation - Malfoy dragging himself across the floor while Nott was staggering back and forth in laughter. On the other side of the bathroom Harry stood watching on, relatively unharmed.

Ron's shoulder's sagged. 'Ahhh tits,' he moaned in disappointment. 'My first proper duel and I missed it.'

'Well that's not true,' Hermione assured him. She immobilised the Monster Book of Monsters and then pocketed her wand. 'Crabbe out there looks positively radiant. I think you improved his appearance.'

'Radioactive more like…'

As if to remind them he was still there Malfoy gave an infuriated cry when he lunged for Nott's wand. But it was to no success. Nott had tears and snot streaming down his face, and it seemed he could hold himself up no longer. He collapsed down to the floor and curled up, his wand scattering well out of Malfoy's reach.

'Are you finished now?'

Becoming even more infuriated Malfoy looked back at him, his mouth twisted into an ugly sneer as he swore viciously. Though he certainly had a thought or two to return he gave no response. He didn't feel victorious for having defended himself. Instead he felt stupid for letting Malfoy antagonise and provoke him. He had done exactly what Malfoy wanted him to do and had put a target on his own back. The fact that he had beaten them both only made this look worse.

He swore under his breath, shaking his head as he turned away for a moment. This incident with Malfoy had been nothing more than a distraction, and while the dust settled and Nott laughed himself hoarse reality came back to him. What had just happened with Snape, his refusal to do what Dumbledore had told him…and now walking straight into a fight Malfoy provoked…

'No!' Hermione cried, lunging forward at Malfoy - but she was too late.

With no option remaining Malfoy had called for help, touching the Inquisitorial Squad badge on his chest. Harry didn't need to wait and find out whether or not Malfoy needed a wand to summon help. One way or another help would be coming any second.

'Let's get outta here,' Ron said urgently, opening the bathroom door and looking out into the corridor.

He stared at Malfoy a moment longer. He knew what he wanted to say…two against one, just like your father…but he remained silent. Those words would have no meaning, Malfoy had proven that being called a Death Eater was honourable to him, not an insult. And besides, Malfoy may have lost this fight, but he had won the battle…this was not an incident he could hold his head high about.

He tossed Malfoy's wand to the other side of the bathroom, watching in savage satisfaction as he lunged for it, comically dragging himself across the bathroom floor. But he showed mercy to Nott, whose agonised laughter had now reached ear splitting volume, and he released the curse. With a shuddered cry of relief Nott quietened, his chest heaving for breath as he became limp. He pocketed his wand, done with the both of them.

With merely a gesture, just to remind Malfoy that he could, Harry gathered his belongings and sent them soaring back into his schoolbag. It was a jumbled mess, pages of books bent and quills broken in half, but that was a price worth paying. Slinging his schoolbag over his shoulder he followed Ron and Hermione out of the bathroom, leaving Malfoy there to wait for help.