Harry just barely made it to divination on time. He hurriedly climbed up the ladder into the attic-like room and was relieved to see Neville had saved him a seat. He sat down right as Trelawney entered the smoky room and announced they would be studying dreams this term.

Harry hoped no one had noticed his panicked expression before he masked it. If there was anything he did not want to discuss with his classmates it was his dreams. Trelawney instructed them to pair off and begin recounting dreams. Neville turned to look at him.

"Do you want to go first?" he asked.

"No," Harry said quickly. "I never remember by dreams," he added. "You go." Neville proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes recounting a dream about a large pair of scissors wearing his grandmother's hat. The two studiously spent the remainder of the class trying to decipher it, and by the end of the period were no closer at figuring out its meaning than Harry was at convincing the wizarding world Voldemort had returned.

"It's a good thing Trelawney isn't mean," said Neville, as he Ron and Harry walked to defense. "Because I think I might be worse at divination than I am at potions. And that's saying a lot."

"I completely understand," Harry agreed. "At least potions is just mixing ingredients. When Snape isn't bothering me it's pretty smooth, but divination goes completely over my head. Do you think anyone actually makes sense of all that crap?"

"I don't see how," Ron said. "And why does it even matter? I'm scared of spiders, so if I dream of spiders and I get scared, does it have to have some special meaning other than I'm scared of spiders!?" Harry and Neville laughed at Ron's distress.

"What's so funny?" asked Hermione, meeting up with them outside of their defense classroom.

"Apparently Ron's afraid of spiders," Harry said with a laugh. Hermione rolled her eyes and they all made their way into the classroom. "Have you guys heard anything about our new professor?" she asked in a whisper, glancing around the room.

"Haven't had a chance have we?" Harry asked. They all sat down and anxiously waited for the class to begin. Unlike in previous years, the room was completely bare of anything course related. At the very minute class was supposed to begin, Umbridge walked in, completely decked out in pink, ugly bow and all.

"Good afternoon class," she said in her sickly-sweet voice as she walked to the front. A few students mumbled a good afternoon back at her. "Oh, now that won't do at all. You should all say 'good afternoon Professor.' Let's try again: good afternoon class."

"Good afternoon professor," chorused the class.

"Good good," she said with a smile that made Harry shudder. Umbridge waved her wand and the words "Ordinary Wizarding Levels" appeared on the chalkboard. "Ordinary Wizarding Levels," she said. "Otherwise known as O.W.L.s. These very important tests will be administered to you at the end of the year to determine your proficiency in each subject. Your results will not only determine what classes you can take for the remainder of your schooling, but, more importantly, what careers you can go into. Now, wands away and quills out, please."

The class all exchanged confused looks. Why would they need to put their wands away in defense? They all reluctantly put away their wands and pulled out some parchment, ink, and quills. Umbridge waved her wand again and the words on the board were replaced with "Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles." She then proceeded to explain that their lack of structured and non-ministry-approved curriculum had left them unprepared for their O.W.L. exams. They were then instructed to open their books and read chapter one: "Basics for Beginners."

Harry had always enjoyed the idea of defense, even when they did not have a particularly good teacher, but he thought reading about it, and at a most basic level at that, was possibly even more boring than Binn's class. Well, maybe that was going too far, but it was certainly dull. He soon realized he had reread the same paragraph five times and not comprehended a single word. All of a sudden, he looked up and noticed Hermione had not even opened her book. Rather she was staring at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air. Soon, the entire class was watching Hermione rather than read the chapter, as the former was much more interesting. Eventually, Umbridge had no choice but to acknowledge her.

"Is there a problem Miss—?" Umbridge asked.

"Hermione Granger," answered Hermione. "I had a question about your course aims." Harry looked over to the board where Umbridge magicked course aims for them to copy. They read:

Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

"A question about the course aims?" Umbridge asked. "I think the course aims are perfectly clear Miss Granger."

"Well, I don't" said Hermione. "There's nothing there about using defensive spells."

"Using defensive spells," Umbridge asked incredulously. "Why on earth would you have to use defensive spells in my class?"

What followed was nearly a rebellion. Students kept asking questions, himself included, which Umbridge kept shooting down. Harry felt she was rather a bit extra harsh when he spoke. Finally, Harry couldn't contain himself. The entire day had been rather frustrating and he was done being bullied.

"So how exactly are we going to pass our O.W.L.s if we've never practiced the spells?" Harry asked harshly.

"Hand Mr. Potter," Umbridge snarled. "If you have properly studied the theory the spells should come naturally to you. If not, perhaps defense isn't for you." She said that last bit with a rather smug grin towards Harry.

"Well, I think my life experience would prove otherwise," Harry shot back. No one else had questions anymore. They wanted to see what would happen next.

"Is that so?" Umbridge asked. "You think you know better than a ministry official?"

"Yeah, well considering I've defeated Voldemort four times now I would say I'm pretty good at Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry countered. "I certainly did a good job defeating him at the end of last term when he came back."

"Detention Mr. Potter," Umbridge said with a triumphant smirk, as though she had won a great battle. "Now," she addressed the class, "let me make something clear. Certain individuals," she glared at Harry, "have insisted that a certain dark wizard as returned. This. Is. A. Lie."

"It's not a lie!" Harry shouted, jumping up as he did so. His chair flipped backwards with the force of his movement. "I saw him! I fought him!" Harry could see the alarmed faces of his classmates. Hermione was shaking her head at him and motioning him to be quiet, but he was past that now.

"You are a liar Mr. Potter," Umbridge said calmly.

"Oh yeah," Harry asked. "So Cedric…," Harry choked on the name for a moment before recovering, "So Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord did he?" Tears welled up in his eyes and he tried to quickly blink them away. He didn't want to appear weak.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident…"

"IT WAS MURDER!" Harry shouted. "He was murdered by Voldemort and if you stopped to consider the facts you would realize they don't add up to any other conclusion."

Umbridge considered Harry for a moment. Then, she turned to the rest of the class. "You have all been distracted enough," she said. "Go back to your reading. You will have a quiz on this chapter at your next class, so I suggest you read it carefully." She turned back to Harry. "Mr. Potter, come to my desk." Harry followed her as she turned and walked to her desk. Harry stood their seething while Umbridge took her time writing out a note before giving it to Harry. "Bring this to Professor McGonagall," she said sweetly.

Harry knew if he stayed here any longer he would get into even more trouble, so he angrily snatched the note and his belongings and stormed out of the classroom. He had to deflect Peeves on his way to his Head of Houses' office. By the time he arrived he was angrier than ever and it was reflected in the way he banged heavily on the Deputy Headmistress' door.

"What in Godric's name is going on?" McGonagall exclaimed as she threw open her door to come face to face with Harry. "Potter what is the meaning of this?"

"I've been sent to you," Harry replied angrily, holding up the scroll from Umbridge.

"Sent to me?" she asked.

"Umbridge didn't like my critiques of her teaching methods," he said tersely.

McGonagall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Come on in Potter," she said, grabbing the scroll from his hand. She read it as they walked to her desk. She quickly made and poured two cups of tea as Harry sat and placed one in front of him. He ignored it. He wasn't in mood for tea.

"Have a biscuit Potter," she said pushing a tray towards him.

"I don't want one," he said.

"Have a biscuit," she insisted again.

"I don't want a stupid biscuit!" he almost shouted at her. She looked at him sharply at his tone, but Harry was too angry to cower as he usually would. Lucky for him, she chose to move on instead of confronting him.

"It says here you've been given detention every night this week for your insubordination and class disruption."

"What!?" Harry exclaimed. "Every day this week? That's ridiculous! Isn't there something you can do?"

"Professor Umbridge is your teacher Harry," McGonagall said. "She has every right to give you detention."

"But she was wrong!" Harry said. "She won't let us use magic and she called me a liar and…"

"Potter! Calm yourself." Harry clamped his mouth shut and waited for his professor to continue. "I know that you are not a liar. The people who matter know you are not a liar. But the fact of the matter is that the Ministry of Magic does not and Umbridge works for the Minister. It would be wise not to anger her like you have done today." Harry tried to protest, but he was cut off. "I know it may be frustrating, but you need to listen to me Potter. It will be better for everyone if you try to stay off of Umbridge's radar." Harry turned away and sulkily stared out the window. "Now, you will report to her office for detention tomorrow evening and every other day this week."

Harry scowled. "Whatever." McGonagall raised her eyebrow at him.

"I think I have tolerated enough of your attitude Mr. Potter," she said. "If you have no more questions or outrageous outbursts you may head to dinner."

Harry didn't need telling twice. He snatched up his things and stalked to the Great Hall for dinner. The tale of his outburst had obviously spread, and apparently the students were not afraid to let him overhear.

"He' says he fought Voldemort…"

"Who's he kidding…"

Harry sped up so that he didn't have to listen to the conversations floating past him. When he finally reached the table, his friends took one look at his face and wisely left him alone. But the conversations didn't stop. He could hear what seemed like everyone in the hall discussing his claims. Some appeared supportive, but most followed the example of The Daily Prophet. The more he heard, the harder it got to breath. He started to feel like the walls of the room were closing in on him. The words started to blend into a loud buzzing noise that only served to make him more anxious. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and grabbed his things and all but ran from the room.

He was sure it would only make people talk more, but he couldn't find it in him to care at the moment. As he exited the Hall, he realized that going to Gryffindor tower would only mean he would be interrupted by his fellow classmates. He quickly ducked into a corner and pulled out the Marauder's Map he carried with him everywhere. He saw the astronomy tower was empty, and went there as fast as he could. The buzzing was getting louder and his breathing shallower.

Somehow, he found it in him to run up the stairs and the moment he reached the top, he collapsed into the center of the room. By some luck, he remembered Neville's advice from the previous night, and tried to focus on breathing. Tears were streaming down his face. After several minutes, he felt he had his breathing under control and the buzz had dulled down.

Once his mind was cleared of buzzing, all the negativity from his first day of classes hit him at once, and he couldn't stop himself from breaking down. Harry knelt on the floor and curled into himself while he sobbed. He let out all the anger and frustration from the day. Right as he took a moment to hope no one was around to see or hear him like this, he heard possibly the worst voice imaginable from behind him.

"Well, well, well," drawled Malfoy as he climbed the last few steps into the tower. "What do we have we here? Does the golden boy need a tissue? Or maybe he needs his mummy? Do…"

Malfoy was cut off midsentence as Harry had sprung up at the mention of his mother and slammed him against the wall. Harry's fists had handfuls of Malfoy's robes and their faces were barely an inch apart. Even stained as it was with tears, Malfoy could see the pure rage on Harry's face.

"Don't. You. Dare," Harry snarled. "Never speak of my mother." With that Harry let go of the blond and staggered backward. The anger he had felt just moments ago drained away as he finally felt the weight of the day's events. Harry continued walking backwards, barely seeming to see Malfoy, until he hit the opposite wall and crumpled to the floor.

"I'm not in the mood for your shit Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "So unless you plan on giving me detention for having a shit day, I suggest you elsewhere." Harry turned his head away from the Slytherin and looked at what bit of sky he could see through the tower windows.

He honestly couldn't bring himself to care what Malfoy did. He was sure he would be angry with himself later for appearing so weak to his enemy, but at the moment, nothing mattered. After a minute or two, Harry glanced towards the opposite wall and noticed Malfoy was still standing there. For once, he wasn't mocking, smirking, or being an all-around nuisance. He was just quietly staring at Harry and it unnerved him that he couldn't quite decipher the look on Malfoy's face.

"Can I help you with something?" Harry asked, unsure of what else to say. Malfoy opened his mouth and closed it several times without saying anything. "What? Cat got your tongue?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what one is supposed to say to their enemy in a time like this," Malfoy said finally.

Harry huffed a laugh he didn't truly feel. "I would imagine you should make fun of them. But as I've already asked you to give it a rest, I suppose you are at a crossroads." Harry gave him a tired smile. "Guess you should, you know, leave."

Malfoy looked down at his fidgeting hands before replying. "If…if you were my friend," he hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you like this."

Harry looked up at him surprised. Malfoy looked away as soon as they made eye contact. Harry wasn't sure how to respond by that, so he just went with the obvious: "But we aren't friends, so…?"

Malfoy looked back at Harry and said, "No. No we're not." Then, he quietly sat down with his back against the wall so he was sitting directly across from Harry. The two stared at each other in silence.

"I always figured you liked the attention," Malfoy said after what felt like an eternity. "I guess it's different now that most everyone hates you."

"I've never liked the attention," Harry replied. "If I had to choose between being famous because my parents died and I didn't and having my parents, I'd rather have the latter." Harry absentmindedly rubbed his arm where his scars were. "It's not as if I go looking for trouble either. It just tends to find me."

Malfoy offered a small laugh. "That's one way of putting it." That sat in what was surprisingly a comfortable silence for a few minutes. "I heard you told off Umbridge. Nice work." Harry looked at the blond in surprise. "I mean, I know technically she's on the same side as I am, but Merlin's beard she irritates me." Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud at that.

"You'd be mad if she didn't," he said. "She's so sickly sweet all the time it makes me want to vomit."

Malfoy made a disgusted face. "I've seen her a few times around the ministry," he said. "Apparently, her entire wardrobe is various, equally disgusting, pink robes. Just looking at her can give you a headache."

"Tell me about it," Harry replied. "I wonder what her office looks like."

"I suppose you'll find out soon enough," Malfoy replied. "Heard she gave you detention?"

"Yeah," Harry said miserably. "A whole week's worth."

"Seriously?"

"Guess I really pissed her off," Harry said glumly.

"You'll have to tell me what it looks like," Malfoy said.

Harry was about to say that he would, when he suddenly remember who he was talking to, and the unlikely event of it ever happening again. Malfoy seemed to realize this at the same time Harry did, and Harry was certain he saw a brief glimpse of sadness cross the blonde's face. They were both quiet for a moment, before Malfoy broke it by getting to his feet.

"Well…um…you seem to be alright now," Malfoy stuttered out. "I'll just go now." He turned, but then turned back and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, before closing it and leaving the tower without another word.

Harry stared at the doorway long after the blond had left it, trying to figure out what in the bloody hell had just happened. Had he really had a civil conversation with Draco Malfoy of all people? Harry wiped his face to clear off any remnants of the tears, got up, and dusted himself off. He continued to ponder their interaction as he made his way down the tower and towards his common room.

Malfoy had told him he wouldn't leave a friend alone before sitting down. But he also stated he weren't friends, Harry thought. Enemies wouldn't be that kind to each other. But if they weren't friends, and they weren't acting like enemies, what exactly were they?

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even register walking through the common room into his dorm. He knew he should get to work on his homework, but he felt so drained, that he thought it best he save it for the following day. As he got ready for bed, he noticed a note on his bedside table with his name scrawled on it.

Harry recognized the handwriting immediately. Just great, he thought. What does Snape want now? He snatched up the note and quickly unfolded it to see:

I was going to schedule your first occlumency lesson for tomorrow, but seeing as you can't go one day without landing yourself in detention, it will have to wait until Saturday. Meet me in the potions classroom at 8pm sharp. If anyone asks, inform them you are taking remedial potions. No one familiar with your skills will doubt it. I expect you to practice clearing your mind as we discussed. I will know if you haven't.

Professor Snape

Harry crumpled up the note and use his wand tip to light it on fire. Perfect, he thought. A week's worth of detention with Umbridge followed by an extra lesson with Snape. Harry sighed as he climbed into bed and shut his curtains. He went ahead and tried to clear his mind, but for all his efforts, he was still thinking about a certain blond when he finally drifted off.