A/N: In which we see Harry reach a breaking point.

9 – Multiple Personality Disorder

"What was that about?" Ron asked, sounding resoundingly suspicious. An innocent look appeared on Harry's face so fast that he actually felt guiltier than before, while watching a confused, cowed Jack Sloper retreat back into the corner of his common room from which he'd issued to ask Harry why he'd deceived him earlier in the day.

"Nothing," he said, still relishing the look of confusion he'd prepared just for the occasion. Jack had been almost touchingly confused and chagrined, and had gone away looking, simply put, like a kicked dog. Harry had to suppress a nasty smile at the sight, and had to suppress the urge to point and laugh like he could remember Dudley doing a few times –

"Doesn't look like nothing," Hermione said darkly, from behind her pile of parchment. "You almost grinned just now – "

"Because he was so weird about it," Harry lied easily. "I mean, you could really tell he believed I'd actually said something like that…" he trailed off as Hermione favoured him with a stern look. "What?"

"I never thought I'd have to say this, Harry," she said slowly, "but I'm starting to think the rumours about you are true." Harry stared at her, completely devoid of any intelligible answer to what she'd just said.

Especially since 'sod off, you flea-bitten close-clawed bitch' didn't in any way count as an intelligible answer.

"Hermione," Ron said, tone filled with horror. "You can't think – "

"Listen to me, Ron," she said, slamming down her quill, speeding straight into what Harry dimly recognised as full-on lecture mode. "Just think about it for a minute. I'm not saying," she said, cutting across Ron's sounds of protest, "that all that rot about Polyjuice and mental disorders – "

"Mental what?"

" – is even close to true," Hermione continued, ignoring Harry's indignant interruption. "What I'm talking about is the personality change thing – "

"What?" Harry said again, but Ron, to his surprise and horror, was nodding reluctantly, obviously having recognised what Hermione was so ardently hinting at. Harry grimaced – it just went to show that his belief that he'd heard all the rumours was obviously very wrong – "Hermione – "

"Ron, can you remember how many times you've asked Harry about how he's holding up?"

"Well, yeah," Ron said, obviously ignoring Harry's glare. "I've asked him dozens of times, and he always says he's fine – "

"But does he ever say he's fine?" Hermione demanded, giving Harry an 'it's for your own good' look. "I mean, does he ever just blow you off?" Harry tried to give Ron a firm, reminding sort of look. When that failed, he huffed and just rolled his eyes, because he was sort of half-sure he was safe from that enquiry. He'd been honest – well, partially honest, at the very least, with Ron and Hermione throughout the week, so hopefully –

"Well, it never seems like that," Ron said defensively, still avoiding Harry's eyes. "He always tells me something concrete about how he's doing at the moment – "

"Thank you, Ron," Harry said, hastily, feeling well supported. "Satisfied, Hermione?"

"Not in the least," she insisted. "Ron, what did he tell you last time? Which, Harry, before you object, was just before you went to the Hospital Wing after dinner, if I can remember clearly. I'm asking him for your sake, so don't glare at me like that."

"Hermione – " Harry groaned, inwardly wondering, is she ever going to just let this go –

"Humour me, Ron," she said firmly, kicking Harry under the table, obviously meaning to shut him up.

"Well…he said something about not feeling like he had phantom wi- er, things, any more," Ron said, thinking hard. Harry sighed – that sounded so pathetic now –

"How awfully vague," Hermione said, giving Harry a pointed look. "Did he tell you he was having a headache?"

"No," Ron said, turning an accusing look onto Harry. "You didn't, did you? You said you were just going for a check-up that you missed – "

"How on earth do you know if I had a headache?" Harry snapped at Hermione. "I'll have you know – "

She rolled her eyes, looking very irritated. "What do you think? I went up to the Wing and asked."

"Hermione…!" This whole 'let me deal with this horrible, embarrassing mess' thing wasn't going to work if they just kept butting into his business –

"Harry, why didn't you just tell me?" Ron said, sounding more exasperated than anything. "I could have gone with you, just in case – "

"Just in case of what? Just in case I fainted along the way, or got hit by a falling suit of armour?"

"Well, I don't mean that, I mean – "

" – protecting me from falling bits of the castle, Ron? We both know I can get to the bloody Hospital Wing by myself with just a headache – "

"So you did have one, then," Ron said, back-pedalling abruptly, looking just as satisfied as Hermione did now. "You know, Hermione, as much as I want to disagree, I think you might be right – "

"Ron…!"

"You're more evasive than ever, Harry," Hermione said, pitching her voice lower as more and more people around them seemed to tune in. "You never tell us what's going on – "

"That's because there is nothing going on – " except for the fact that I'm trying to salvage what remains of my dignity from THE HELL THAT IS MY LIFE –

"I call foul," Ron said, a little bitterly. "You told us not to visit when there was clearly a lot of something going on, didn't you?" Harry closed his eyes, forcing himself to just – just breathe. It actually worked now, which was a blessing, unless he'd have been spouting fire Ron's way at this very moment. Which he actually couldn't do because he was taking potions that stopped it.

Which meant Dumbledore, Pomfrey and Snape had all inadvertently saved yet another pair of lives, the thought of which (more specifically, of Snape being told such news) cheered Harry up immensely.

"And you never get upset at all any more, Harry, it's really unnerving," Hermione continued, tone quietening even more. "I never thought I'd miss you being angry, but I do – "

"She's right, mate," Ron said, faced with Harry's open-mouthed, plaintive look of appeal. "I mean, you didn't even blink when Lavender asked you what your favourite colour was at dinner – "

Harry stared. How on earth is that – all I've done was try to get better at not taking people's heads off when they ask me stupid things, and now they're complaining – he shook his head. Maybe he had to have a serious talk with these two, make them understand exactly how easy literally taking someone's head off might be for him now, because they just didn't seem to understand the situation –

"That," he calmly began, trying to make them see reason, "doesn't prove anything – "

"It does," Hermione said, sighing tiredly. "Everyone's heard the Polyjuice rumour – you knew she was trying to verify your identity or something, I could see it – " Harry blanched. So, what, simple intelligence or knowing the how-to of such awkward situations was off the charts as well as managing his now even flightier temper? He stifled a groan – that didn't say a lot for his actions pre-phoenixing, obviously –

"Hermione – "

" – and you didn't even blink," she persisted. "Just said it was lavender, and winked." Harry blushed, deciding to let Ron cut him off. There was really no excuse for that little comment, apart from the fact his brain had surmised that embarrassing that idiotic girl would prove more satisfying in the long term without getting him locked up.

"Which was actually pretty disturbing," Ron muttered. "Especially for her – " Hermione shook her head, now looking more amused than disturbed.

"I know, Ron – looked like she couldn't choose which to die from; joy or frustration – "

"You two are ones to talk," Harry said now, forcing his tone to be nothing more than mildly accusatory. If they were going the way of the implied crush (which Ron was so totally gearing up to imply right now), he was damned well going to make sure they paid for it "You've practically been drooling all over each other all week, and you haven't said anything to me about it…." His voice trailed off, nicely effective, leaving him with a feeling of inordinate satisfaction at how both of them blushed.

"You're doing it again, Harry," Hermione managed to say. "Fobbing us off, fobbing everything off – "

"I'm not fobbing anything – "

"All I'm saying is it's not you, Harry. Well – you've never been able to do it as easily, I mean – "

"Oh, thanks very much, Hermione – "

"I'm serious," she said, tone going deadly so. "That's why everyone's still talking so much about it, Harry. A lot of what you do and what you say right now is just not you, and it's frightening Ron, and it's frightening me. You have to deal with it, Harry…"

"Fine, I will," Harry sighed, rubbing at his eyes in frustration at the seemingly never-ending talk. "What?" he snapped, seeing Hermione and Ron give him another look of dismayed surprise.

Ron hedged, colour showing again in his cheeks. "Well, Harry – "

"Just spit it out, Ron." When it looked like Ron's embarrassed reply was not forthcoming, Hermione answered for him.

"Well, Harry, agreeing with what I say is…sort of not very you, either."

Harry put his head in his hands, trying to rub away the ache that had suddenly reasserted itself in it again.

"You okay, Harry?"

"No, Ron, I am not okay. My head is hurting, thanks to you two – "

Hermione sighed. "That's another thing you keep doing, Harry, blaming us – "

"Fucking shut up," Harry said flatly, kneading desperately at his head, ignoring Hermione's affronted gasp. "Oh, my aching head – "

"Harry, is it your scar?"

"No it's not my bleeding – " Harry began, but then the ache suddenly concentrated right there, and it was all he could do not to let out a high-pitched yelp of frustration. Which his mind was still lucid enough to know would give the game horribly away, and resulted in a temporary shutdown of his vocal chords.

"Harry?" Hermione said, dropping her quill and coming to his side almost at the same time as Ron did. "Ron, has this been happening?"

"Definitely not, I check every night when he's asleep – "

"So much for fucking privacy," Harry growled, or tried to, but neither of them seemed to even hear him. Then the pain intensified, and he could barely even hear them –

" – potion? Any – "

" –umbldore said not to. Because – "

" – look at him, Ron! He's – "

" – try potion – "

" – open up, Harry – "

But all Harry could feel was the strange leadenness of his limbs, and it was all he could do to swallow the stuff that was coming from the glass shoved between his teeth, and then the pain intensified beyond all bearing, and his mind kicked in, seeming to know what was required of it –

Namely, darkness.

Preview of Chapter 10: The Shouting Match

"Harry?"

Harry groaned. He hated the way his life currently seemed to be wedded to this bloody room in the Hospital wing, hated the sight of that stupidly small window, hated the feel of the slightly lumpy mattress underneath him.

A/N: This one goes out to nightmarealley – your haircut WILL be fine eventually! (hugs)

Will stick this up on Skyehawke and on my journal when I'm not in quite such a rush. Adios!