Non Time, O Parve Mage

Draco awoke to red sunlight, peering through the velvet curtains of his bed. He closed his eyes again, and stretched

lazily on his bed like a cat. He was grateful to be back at Hogwarts; where he was safe. He drew back the curtains and placed his

feet on the wooden floor—enchanted to stay warm to keep from chilling vulnerable, morning feet. He walked to the dorm bathroom,

and on the way, grabbed a pair of pants and boxer-briefs. Now that he didn’t have to wear his uniform, it was a refreshing change.

He grabbed a pair of faded blue-jeans. (His parents would never let him wear them when with them, but they were so comfortable!)

He opened the bathroom door, and was pleased to hear that it still creaked. It was a pretty loud creak, but seeing as

how it was just before sunrise, he did not have to worry about waking the others. He stepped into the shower, and let the water run

hot. It stung as it flowed through his plethora of cuts, but relaxed hi muscles and soothed his hoarse throat. He gently massaged

the vanilla-mint shampoo into his scalp, and relished in the relaxing sensation it brought him. He stood underneath the shower

head for a few more moments, letting it cascade freely over his silver hair and face. When the water ran clear beneath him, he

stopped the tap, and stepped out of the shower as he dried his hair with a purple towel.

After drying himself thoroughly, he slid into his boxer-briefs, and pulled on his jeans. Unlike most people assumed, he

spent little or no time with his hair. It just…happened to look perfect by coincidence (and good genes). He stepped out of the

shower, to see Harry Potter, fully dressed, just entering the dorm. He froze when he saw that Draco had seen him. “I was—I was

just—““stop.” Draco interrupted him. “You don’t have to justify where you were off to—I’m not your governess.”

“Right.” Harry blushed (for more than one reason.) Draco blushed to when he suddenly remembered why it was he

always got dressed before anyone could see him.

“Malfoy…those scars…where did you—“he began with sincere concern before he was cut off, “It’s nothing. They’re nothing.

Just—just forget it.”

Harry walked closer to him, his eyes gleaming suspiciously. “Those weren’t accidental, Malfoy…did—did you do that?”


Draco crossed his arms to hide the largest, deepest scar that trailed all the way from his left shoulder blade, to his

bottom-right abdomen. Harry walked closer still. He reached out an apprehensive hand and placed it, gently on his shoulder where

one of the newest scars lay. Draco winced at the sudden contact. Harry trailed the scar with a graceful finger, down to where it

stopped, on the back-side of his waist. “Malfoy…Draco. Why would you do this to yourself?” he pleaded, his emerald eyes gleaming.


He really was too noble, sometimes.

Draco did not know why he was confiding in him…but before he realized what he was doing, he opened his mouth. “To

forget.”

“Forget?”

Draco closed his eyes when he felt painful stinging behind them. “The pain,”

Harry laughed disbelievingly. “The pain? The pain of being a gorgeous, rich, teenager with everything going for you—

parents who spoil you to death—“

Draco slapped Harry’s hand away from his and gave him a glare that could pierce steel. “You know NOTHING of my life—

nothing. So don’t act like you do!”

Harry crossed his arms indignantly. “I know that your father bought you eight brooms on a whim—“

“He lost a bet with Snape—that had nothing to do with me.”

“Okay…well how about when your father tried so hard to get Buckbeak killed after he attacked you—“

“He just hates Hagrid—nothing to do with me.”

“Well…you’re still ignoring the fact that half the school wants in your pants—“he had touched a nerve. Draco grabbed

Harry by the collar of his shirt, and shoved him up against the wall; holding him at arm’s length. “He hissed through gritted

teeth, “I would do anything—anything—to be normal. To not have people chasing after my body like some trophy—to not have to

worry about Vol—“he realized what he was saying, and released Harry from his death-grip. He turned away as he felt a single tear

running from each eye. “Draco…” Harry whispered, choking back sobs, “I…I had no idea…I’m so sorry…” he placed a gentle,

sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Draco turned his head to face him; the boy that was meant to save the wizarding world from

Voldemort…to save him. He looked into his emerald eyes to find no traces of red, no malice…he closed his silver eyes and more

tears brimmed over his delicate eyelashes.

Harry brushed away his tears with the side of his hand and kissed him gently on the forehead. “You’re safe here.” He

whispered into his ear. Draco looked up at Harry’s genuinely kind smile and kissed him, feather-light on his lips (what was he

doing…). Harry draped his arms about Draco’s slender hips and deepened the kiss. Draco winced in pain and pulled back. Harry

hastily pulled back his hands and apologized furiously, “Oh my god—I’m so sorry!” Draco smiled. “No, it wasn’t you…it pretty much

hurts all the time.”

Harry frowned and looked Draco’s torso up and down—the large scar that Draco had tried to conceal earlier, on his torso,

caught his eye. “Draco…there’s no way you could have done that to yourself…” he whispered. He began to trace the scar with his

index finger. “Who—ahhh!” he pulled back as surging pain overcame his head and his vision was overcome with random pictures----

---------------------------------

***Voldemort strode across the stone floor to see Draco lying on the floor, shuddering, his hands covering his head. ‘Aw, what’s

wrong Draco—didn’t expect the crucatius curse to actually hurt?’ he knelt down beside him, grinning menacingly. ‘I suppose you

won’t try and hurt me again, will you?’ he pulled out a silver blade and began fingering it playfully. ‘Roll over Draco, I want to see

your silver eyes…’ he forcedly rolled Draco and plunged the blade into the flesh directly under his shoulder blade. Draco screamed in

agony, which only caused Voldemort to grin more. He lifted the blade slightly, so it was only a centimeter into his flesh, and

dragged it, excruciatingly slowly, across his satin flesh. As the blood pooled, he laid himself on top of him, and lapped up the blood

with his tongue—deepening the wound***

Harry held both hands over his scar as it burned furiously—as though Voldemort himself had just touched it. When his

vision cleared, he saw that Draco was kneeling beside him, his eyes sharpened in concern. “Are you alright?”

Harry straightened himself, and stood. “Yea…yea, sure; I’m fine.” Draco was unsatisfied but did not press the matter

further. He turned to his wardrobe, and pulled out a long-sleeved, grey shirt, and slipped it on. It was a very soft-to-the-touch

material, and clung in all the right places, flattering his perfect figure. Harry was still staring at him. Draco turned to him, “yes?”

Harry licked his dried lips and began, “Draco…did…did Voldemort ever get his youth back?”

“From what I’ve heard.” He responded, appearing indifferent. He strode past Harry without looking at him, and headed

toward the great-hall for breakfast.

~*~

Harry was still staring at the spot where Draco just stood.

‘To not have people chasing after my body like some trophy—to not have to worry about Vol—‘

Oh, gods, Draco…what happened to you this summer?

~*~

Draco quickly hurried through the halls when he ran into a fellow human-being. “Mr. Malfoy!” came Snape’s stern

voice. “Do watch where you are going!” Draco bowed his head, “Yes—sorry, professor. I guess I have a lot on my mind.”

“Apparently” he bent over to pick up the books he had just dropped. Draco quickly bent over to help him. “And how was

your summer, Mr. Malfoy?” Draco involuntarily winced. “Same old…yours?”

“Same. Yes, well, I’m off to prepare for class.”

“Goodbye, professor.” Snape nodded cordially and turned toward the dungeons. When he reached the dungeons, he

found that the same tables were present, but instead of house colors, each table bore a purple flag and a number. He assumed he

was to sit at the “II” table. There were only twelve or so other people in the hall. However, within twenty minutes, it seemed as

though the entire school was present.

He prodded at his eggs with his fork, but did not eat. After he had turned his eggs into powder form, Harry sat down

beside him. “Draco…we need to talk.” Draco continued to prod at his eggs and responded almost mechanically: “mrrm?”

“Well,” he began dejectedly, “About what happened to you this summer.” Draco’s fork hit the table with a clang. He

sharply turned his head toward Harry. “No, we really don’t.” He forcedly pushed his chair back and stood abruptly, almost knocking it

over. Harry got up from his chair and grabbed Draco by the crook of his elbow before he could leave. Draco winced, but Harry

ignored him. “Draco! We need to talk! Or at least talk to Snape or something!” he pleaded. Draco scoffed, “oh, right—because he’s

been a huge help thus far.” Draco tried to leave, but Harry only tightened his grip.

“Ow! Please! I don’t like being forced—let go!” Harry’s eyes turned to slits, “not until you talk to someone!” Draco fell

back onto the floor, knocking hi chair over. By now, everyone was looking at the spectacle that was them. Draco had his arms up

protectively, “Please—don’t hurt me” Harry widened his eyes and quickly knelt down beside him, “Draco—I’m sorry—I would never

hurt you,” Draco lowered his arms to gaze into Harry’s sincere, green eyes. “Please, Draco,”


Draco bowed his head. “Not now…I don’t think I can.” Harry nodded, “alright. Come to me when you’re ready, alright?”

Draco nodded, and allowed himself to be pulled up. He turned on his heel and left the hall. He vaguely saw Hermione Granger and

Ron Weasley rush over to Harry’s side. ‘Must be nice,’ he thought to himself. When he opened the doors to leave, out of the corner

of his eye, he saw Harry shrug of his two best friends and run after Draco.


Draco stood in the middle of the large hall, his arms folded, staring up at the ceiling; thinking. He felt Harry’s gentle

hand on his shoulder, and returned his eyes to earth. “Draco—“


“Oh, so it’s Draco now, is it?” Came Ron’s dejected voice. He faintly heard Hermione, “Ron!” but he ignored her. He

walked closer to the pair, his eyebrows raised (they looked as though they were in danger of being lost in his hair). “You know,

Harry, you don’t have to hang out with him, just because he’s in your caucus,” Harry pulled his hands into fists at his side, “I’m

aware of that, Ron.” Apparently, this was an ongoing argument.


“by the way,” Ron began, “an owl got confused, and brought your letter from Sirius to our dorm.” He pulled out a rolled

up sheet of parchment from his robes, and thrust it at Harry. Draco raised a confused eyebrow, “Sirius…Black? I thought he was

dead?”

“So did we,” Harry began as he unrolled the parchment to read the letter, “but he wasn’t—just…trapped.”

“What’s it to you, Malfoy?” Ron demanded, walking closer to Draco.

“Nothing…I was just curious, is all…” he took a step away from Ron, who lowered his head and shook it in disbelief. He

looked up to him again, smiling. “So…are you going to rush off and tell daddy, or you-know-who?” Draco took another step away

from him. “No, I—“


“I’ve always wanted to know, Draco; if your father is Voldemort’s lapdog, what does that make you—his bitch?” Draco

paled and winced involuntarily. His eyes began to blaze with black fire. Ron had failed to notice, however, because Harry had pulled

him back, and punched him squarely in the jaw. Ron, put a shocked hand to rub his cheek, which was now bright red. He shook his

head determinedly, and launched himself at his best friend. They became a tangled heap of whirling punches on the floor. They

had drawn a crowd. He vaguely heard Hermione, “You guys! Stop it!” but Harry and Ron ignored her.


Snape and McGonagall rushed over. Snape grabbed Harry, McGonagall Ron. They were glaring daggers at each other.

McGonagall looked shocked when she saw who was fighting. Snape spoke, “Potter…Weasley? You do know you were fighting each

other, correct?”

The professors released the boys, who straightened themselves and brushed dust from their clothes. Ron turned,

grabbed Hermione, and headed toward the library. She was still too shocked to resist. Even Snape was to surprised to take away

points, however, McGonagall gave them both detention. As various professors shooed them away, the crowd dispersed. Draco began

walking toward the large oak doors that led to the grounds. Harry jogged to keep up with him. “You didn’t have to do that,” Draco

hissed through gritted teeth. “I know,” Harry began,”But I did, so get over it.”

Draco stopped and turned to him. Harry was looking at him resolutely. He shook his head, rolled his eyes, and

continued walking down the stone steps, and toward the lake. Harry followed. “You don’t have to follow me.” Harry continued to

follow him. “I know, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”


Draco stopped and climbed on a large rock in the water. “From who?” Harry climbed on top of the rock, and stared at the

sky. “Yourself.” Draco glanced over at Harry quickly, and turned away. He pulled off his shoes, and rolled up his jeans to his knees.

He dipped his feet in the cool water and smiled when he felt small fish tickle his toes. “Well, you don’t have to worry—I’m at school

now.”

“Away from Voldemort?” Draco froze. “I saw him…and you…when I touched that scar on your chest. It was like I was

there.” Draco still said nothing.

“My scar burned as though Voldemort himself were touching it.” He turned to Draco, his eyes gleaming with the threat of

potential tears. “When…when did that start?” Draco sighed. “I told you—I’m not ready to talk about it.” Harry sighed and returned to

looking at the sky. “Well…I’ll be here when you are.”

They sat there together, staring at the clouds roll by overhead…as though they held the answers to all their problems,

until the bell rang to signal the start of classes. It was Harry who returned to earth first. He nudged Draco. “We have to go to

DADA.” Draco looked at him, and yawned. “Oh, good…the accursed DADA class.” Harry smiled. “It’s alright, I know the professor—

he’s cool.” Draco raised an eyebrow as he watched Harry slide off the rock. He pulled on his shoes, and rolled down his pants. “Race

you,” Harry said. Draco laughed. “What are we, ten?” Harry put his hands on his hips, “sure—why not?” Draco slid off the

rock. “Okay, fine.” They stood beside each other in the “on your marks!” position. “Okay.” Draco said. “One, tw—HEY!” he yelled

after Harry’s running form. He distinctly heard him yell, “How do you like it!” Draco laughed and ran after him to Defense against

the Dark Arts class.