Non Time, O Parve Mage

Harry was pacing the common room in frustration. He had been doing so ever since he had been banned from pacing

outside the infirmary. The carpet began to bare permanent foot prints as a shrine to his aggravation. He needed someone cool and

collective, he needed someone objective—someone smart, who wouldn’t judge him: he needed Hermione, goddamnit.

It was three in the morning, but he didn’t care. He ran to what was once the Ravenclaw dormitories, and began shouting

random \"one\" words at it. “Primary! Un! Uno! Ace!” it opened at ace, and revealed a large study, clad in all purple. He ran up toward the

girl’s side of the dorms, and soldiered on despite the fact that railing had turned to thorns, and the stairs disappeared. Quite

frankly, he was desperate.

He made it to the sixth year rooms, and opened the door apprehensively. He began scanning the beds for a ball of fluff

on a pillow, and sighed in relief when he came upon his best friend’s fuzzy head. He tip-toed over to her, and gently prodded her

awake. She muttered something about not wanting to go to the dentist, and rolled over. He prodded her more insistently, and she

opened a single eye. “Harry?” she yawned. She began blinking her eyes furiously to clear them, and looked up at him

again. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you.” She sighed, and mechanically pulled off her comforter, grabbed her cloak, and headed out the

door. She had done this before.

“So…” she began, as they were walking around the lake, “Voldemort has the hots for Draco, and sexually molested him,

and probably raped him dozens of times.” Harry nodded.

“And, on the second day of school, you end up making out with him for no apparent reason.” Again, he nodded and

remained silent. Hermione paused and turned toward him, her yes grave. “Harry…you remember when you were in Dumbledore’s

office and you wanted to attack him—and he told you later that it was because Voldemort’s emotions were blending into yours.”


“Yea—that’s why Snape had to give me occlumency lessons.”

“Well, did you ever finish them?”

“No…wait—are you saying that—“

“Yes: Harry, it’s happened before. I’m sure your desire to want to protect him, is normal, because hell—you’d save a

death eater if he looked like he needed saving—that was just your instinctive nobleness. But Harry—your sudden desire to be with

him—physically close to him? I think that’s Voldemort talking. You attacked Ron for him, Harry.” Harry didn’t say a word. She was

probably right—he had felt no want of being with Malfoy physically before school. Things like that didn’t just pop out of the middle

of nowhere, did they? And when Harry touched Draco, he even saw Voldemort—he was Voldemort. He was the one holding the knife.

Draco most likely saw that, and that’s why he freaked out and started avoiding him.

“Harry—you need to talk to Dumbledore—you need to learn occlumency.”

“But Snape won’t teach me!” Hermione scoffed. “I seriously doubt that he’s the only wizard in the world that knows

occlumency.”

“Well, I don’t know who—“

“So ask Dumbledore—“she pushed him lightly in the direction of the castle. “I’m going back to bed…wait.” She looked

around her to see sunlight. “I’m going to my dorm, getting dressed, and then going to breakfast.” Before she left, Harry pulled her

into a warm hug. “Thanks, Herm” she smiled at him, and began at a light jog toward the castle.

Harry sighed and walked over to the rock where he and Draco had sat together. He felt the space where Draco had sat

beside him with his hand. Harry smiled as he remembered Draco’s genuine smile; the way his normally cold, silver eyes warmed to

a soft, pastel grey. He looked up toward the castle and frowned. “That wasn’t lust.”


Harry knocked softly at the door to the infirmary, and was answered by Dumbledore. “You wished to see me, Harry?”

how did he do that?

“Yes, headmaster…I want to learn occlumency—I know Snape won’t teach me, but…I need to learn it.” Dumbledore

smiled and nodded his head. “I’m sure we can find you another teacher.”

“Who?”

“Well, I know of several powerful telepaths—Severus Snape, Lord Voldemort, Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Molly

Weasley—“so that’s whey they never got away with anything! “—Andromeda Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black, Myself, Lucius

Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy.” He clapped his hands together, and looked down at Harry. “now, who to teach you…I think it safe to say

that Lucius Malfoy, Lord Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, myself, and Severus Snape are not going to

teach you, for various reasons. I need Tonks, Molly, and Sirius for the order, so I would recommend that you ask Andromeda

Tonks.”

“Andromeda Tonks…Sirius’ cousin—the one that married a muggle-born?” Dumbledore nodded gleefully. “How am I

supposed to find her?”

“She owns a store in Hogsmeade, called Optima Optimae—I’m sure she would be happy to help you.”

“But sir…the next Hogsmeade weekend isn’t for another month!”

“Well then, Harry—I suggest you go back to your dorm; we can’t have you marauding about, can we?” he winked at

Harry, and closed the infirmary door.