Continuing…

The uneasiness followed the three of them to their next class. Harry decided to sit in the back of Transformation so he could space out more easily, and at least that way people would have to crane their necks around if they want to stare at him.

The rest of the student body avoided Harry like he was a beast, afraid he'd turn around and bite their heads off. All of the Slytherins seemed to have decided to not mess with him today, since most of them stayed silent and out of his way.

Transformation was like a cooling down period for Harry. He took the class period to get his anger back under control so that when he faced his best friends again he would be able to actually look into their faces. The class ended too quickly for Harry's liking, but at least now he wouldn't growl at people. He moved to join his friends as the walked out of the room. The silence that hung over them was enough to show that something wasn't right.

As the trio moved on to Charms, Harry tried to ease the tension. He started a bit of small talk. Hermoine forgave him instantly as she jumped onto the topic. Ron took a little bit longer, but he eventually came around. The atmosphere returned to its usual serenity, but Harry still couldn't relax. Not with that little flame that tickled his stomach.

That morning had taught Harry a quick and harsh lesson. His emotions could easily get away from him, and if it got away at the wrong moments with the wrong people… Ron only forgave him because Hermoine did, and Hermoine always seemed to understand and forgive Harry when he was doing something stupid. If it had been someone else, like Seamus or perhaps even Ginny, whom he had proverbially blown up at, he could now be looking down the end of some serious Weasley products. Or he could find out if those rumors about Dean were really true.

Charms dragged through like sloshing through mud. It was slow, boring, and, for Harry, extremely irritating. The bad karma from said class carried on into the next one as well. Defense Against the Dark Arts seemed INCREDIBLY stupid instead of its normal "really". (A/N if some of you noticed, Harry doesn't really have a schedule. His classes come whenever I feel like they would be convenient… kinda like in the books…) At least they weren't getting their legs bitten off by random animals in this class. Apparently some student complained about the attack and Lockhart's use of actual magical creatures was restricted.

Harry was really not feeling tolerant for Professor Lockhart today, so when the blonde haired idiot called him to come back at the end of class, Harry could barely conceal his anger as he stiffly stalked to the front of the classroom. He was sorely tempted to knock out the two front teeth of that Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile.

"Harry, I couldn't help but notice that you were a little annoyed this morning," Lockhart started, once Harry reached his desk at the front of the room. It was actually kind of funny. Harry couldn't tell if he was joking or not…

"Is that so, Professor," Harry muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words. A more logical part of Harry's mind noted to reel in his sassing. Even Lockhart would have noticed that slight.

…Or maybe not.

"Yes!" Lockhart responded triumphantly. "I have not seen you fight with your friends in such a vocal manner before, so I was very worried about you and your well-being."

Harry barely kept himself from rolling his eyes.

"I could tell right away what was wrong," Lockhart continued oblivious to the teenagers complete lack of interest. "And I just wanted you to know that I understand what you are going through at this time."

Harry couldn't stop the lazy flip of his eye at this comment. Professor Lockhart understanding him! That was impossible.

"I myself have been in similar circumstances as yours. I understand the stings of unrequited love."

Harry's mind froze.

Lockhart looked at the stunned boy. "Ah, I was right." He let out a soft laugh, readjusting himself so that he was propped on his desk. "I myself have had troubles with love. It is such a difficult emotion, isn't it, my boy. One moment you think you have it and yourself all figured out and the next you have fallen." His head dropped locks of hair falling in front of his face hiding it from view.

Harry felt the ball of ice melt. It slicked down his stomach, making it watery. Someone who actually under-

Lifting his head, an artfully pained expression plastered on his face as he looked off into the distance, Lockhart announced, "I know how it feels to have your best friend steal away what was rightfully yours!"

…

'What?'

"I know how it feels to have your heart ripped to pieces as they parade in front of you laughing and flirting and…kissing. Malkart, you son of a bitch!"

Harry could only stare blankly at the teacher, his mind trying to keep up as his stomach re-froze itself.

"And I saw that same pain this morning, that I had felt so long ago, in you, Harry," Lockhart turned to look at the boy in front of him.

"I-I see…"

"But even through all the pain and strife that you are experiencing now. Even when you see them talking intimately in a corner. Or when he asks her out to a dance. Or when she shows you her engagement ring… Know that you can't cover your love with anger. Using anger as a weapon will only spread the pain. It will never solve anything."

The words sunk in slowly. Those flippant remarks made an impact through the ice and fire.

'Huh. Funny how you can get good advice even from an idiot.' Harry thought. 'Even if it is surrounded by stupidity.'

"Oh, and one more thing, Harry." Lockhart started again, seeming to get his emotions under control, "Nice hit on the Malfoy boy. No doubt he deserved it, eh?"

Harry paused.

"Yes, he did."

Harry drifted over to his desk to grab his things, before heading for the door.

"Was anything wrong?" Hermoine murmured, looking over Harry's shoulder at the Professor as Harry approached his two best friends, who had been waiting at the back of the room patiently.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing except that Professor Lockhart really gets me. He truly understands the anger that I feel inside," Harry replied sardonically as they exited the classroom.

"Oh?" Ron smirked. "That much, huh?"

Harry glanced over at him a sly smile slipping its way onto his face. "Oh, definitely. Apparently I have all this jealous rage over you and Hermoine's relationship. It must be all the snogging and flirting."

The violently blushing reactions from the two of them made that tight feeling in Harry's chest recede, if only for a little bit.

Potions brought it back with a nice and roaring vengeance. Snape had decided that the hate he felt for Harry needed to be expressed in constant questions about information that Harry really didn't know, followed by point subtraction and comments on Harry's intelligence. Harry should have been used to it by now, but every time he heard a snicker coming from the Slytherin side of the room, recently buried memories would pop up to dig further into him.

He brooded through the rest of the day, through lunch and through dinner. His previous "show of expression" made everyone keep fairly quiet, not bothering his near meditative state.

The detention came around with minimum fuss and soft "good luck"s from his friends. He descended into the dungeon area just as softly, shivering slightly as the damp made his hair stand on end. It was always cold and creepy down here.

He entered the Potion's Room glancing around cautiously. He never knew when Snape would come up behind him with that drawling voice of his as he glared down his nose at him.

The room was eerily dark except for a light that was coming from a side room. Harry snuck across the floor, feeling out of place in the darkened classroom.

He glanced around the door that half-blocked the light coming from the side room, looking upon Snape who was seated at a large black desk. He was riffling through papers, apparently student essays, as he sat in the dim candlelight that burned from a single flame. The flame barely lit the shelves behind him that were filed with jars and pots as well as a few books on the far end.

Harry reached up to knock when Snape used his teacher skills.

"Mark down the amounts and names of all of the ingredients over there," Snape ordered, not even looking up from his paperwork as he motioned towards the far side of the room.

After calming down his rapidly beating heart at Snape's sudden instructions, Harry turned to see an entire wall of shelves. Each was jam-packed with ingredients shoved in random niches and cracks.

"And do try not to mess up the order they are in," Snape instructed haughtily.

Harry moved over to the huge wall, only able to stare at the task ahead of him. He didn't even know where to start! He glanced around the room, pulling over a stool that was in a corner, before pulling some parchment out of his schoolbag that he brought everywhere with him.

He tried to settle himself down, but the stool was uncomfortable, and there was nowhere to place the parchment so that he could write on it easily. Harry eventually was able to configure some way that he could sit, write and look at the vials without falling over.

The task was simply manual labor without much thought behind it. Harry simply took a vial, copied the ingredients onto a paper. Measured how much was in the vial and then placed it back into its rightful place. It took just enough attention for Harry's mind to be active, but not enough attention to make the job interesting. But that was where the greatness lay. IN having to focus on the ingredients and the, sometimes fragile, vials gave Harry no time to focus on other things. Like stupid blonde-haired gits who-

"Potter. If you put the floxleaf with the dragon horn the room will explode. Please be more careful with what you are doing. You would make quite a mess on my walls."

See? Maybe this wouldn't be so bad…

Random tossout of Seamus x Dean… kinda oddly placed, but whatevs… right?