do we really need such disclaimers? I don't own then, I've never owned them, I'll never own them, no matter how bad I want to. Thank you to Miss Ariana Spencer for betaing this time. She said she sucked at betaing. Apparently not.
to readers... i'm sorry this took so long...i'm so mean and bad..

Chapter 9

The quidditch pitch was deserted, thankfully. He mounted his broom and immediately began laps. His speed accelerated until the laps he completed were dizzying and had anyone been watching, they wouldn't have been able to follow him. He needed the speed. The speed somehow made things make sense. He could control this speed, unlike the newspapers, and what other people thought.

Harry was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice the bludger racing towards him. The next thing he was aware of was a very free feeling, falling most likely, but Harry didn't realize this until he hit the ground with a sickening thud. His mind began to go bonkers, wondering if any bones had been broken. He wiggled all his joints and found nothing hurt, so he slowly sat up.

That is, he began to sit up until someone's foot connected with his face. Harry found himself staring up at blurry faces (his glasses had fallen off) who were dressed in black robes lined with green. Had to be Slytherins.

"Disgrace our Head Boy, will ya? Just wasn't enough defeating the Dark Lord, now you have to go and defile what's left!" someone scowled. A fist landed on his stomach and Harry felt his body roll on its side and curl into the fetal position. Fists and feet and legs rained on his body for an indefinable period, until they finally stopped.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, worried they were still around. He received one more strong kick to the stomach and then he saw the black blurs move away in a group that looked as large as the one that had come down.

Every part of him ached, but the part that was really wounded was his dignity. Though his conscience knew he never would have had a chance with that big of a group, he felt he still should have tried to fight back.

Another part of him was amazed about what had just happened. Those boys could have cursed him into oblivion. But then, Harry realized, the spells could have been traced back to them. Clever. Well, that was the key Slytherin trait, wasn't it?

It took him awhile, but Harry managed to drag himself back to the castle. At the main entrance, he used the railing to steady himself as he stood up, then slipped through the door quietly. Everyone seemed to be at dinner, so he silently made his way up to the prefect's bathroom and let himself in (the password hadn't changed.)

A calm feeling overwhelmed him as he stumbled over to the bath. It was very painful to strip the clothes off, but he had to in order to assess the damage. He pulled his wand out of his pants and quickly summoned his glasses. When they arrived he repaired them and then placed them on his face.

The brunt of his bruises were around his abdomen, which would explain why he had trouble breathing. Suddenly, giggling floated into his ears. He groaned and turned his head to the side, to catch a glimpse without exposing himself.

"Don't worry, Harry. I've got my eyes covered. I just think it's funny that this isn't the first time this has happened," came the shrill, yet familiar girlish voice.

"Myrtle…" he sighed, walking towards the swimming pool of a tub. "Yes, do please keep them closed. At least until I've got the bubbles running," he said, carefully lowering himself onto the porcelain seat. To his right were several faucets. He tried a few until warm (but not too hot) water began to fill the bath. Another tap filled in a layer of lavender foam.

"Are you done, yet?" Myrtle whined. Harry's ears went back, like a horse's did when something is agitating it.

"Yes, I am," he replied.

"Where'd you get all the bruises from?" she asked, startling him.

"I thought you said you didn't look!" he shouted, annoyed with her and not caring that any moment she could burst out into one of her stupid crying fits.

"You did catch me off guard too, I only saw a little," she commented, surprisingly unaffected by his outburst.

"Nowhere, I fell down the stairs," he said, realizing how dumb and unconvincing he sounded after the words had left his mouth. He could care less. Who was Myrtle to judge anyone?

"Is it true then, you and the Malfoy boy?" Her audacity unhinged him. He felt unguarded.

"Not anymore. I've gone and screwed things over," he mumbled, rubbing at his ribcage trying to feel where it hurt most. He gasped softly, finding a very tender spot.

"What did you do?" she asked curiously. She now sat next to the bath, almost at the edge of it. Her eyes stayed level with the marble walls though.

"I made a stupid choice and landed us a scandal in the newspaper.."

"Well that was dumb. But why is it over?"

"Are you thick? He's not gonna want to come near me after being ridiculed by that Skeeter Cow. We'll both be the laughing stock of the wizarding world for years to come. Would you want anything to do with someone who did that to you?" he demanded of her.

"No, I guess not. You're right to come and hide in here," she said. Her calling what he was doing "hiding" really annoyed Harry. Sooner or later he was gonna lay it on her verbally.

"I'm not hiding! Merlin, just leave me the hell alone. I didn't ask for your advice anyways," he stated and turned his back to her, soaping up his shoulders slowly, wincing at the movement of his arms.

"Fine," she began to sniffle. She almost began a full-out cry fest when she suddenly stopped.

"You're always welcome to hide out in my bathroom, Harry. I'll keep you company," and then she was gone.

"GET OUT!" he shouted, then immediately cringed. Shouting put pressure on his lungs, which hurt like a rabid bitch.

None of what she had said had been helpful. But then it dawned on Harry that it was what she hadn't said.

He realized what he needed to do.