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It had been building for some time, and it was purely because of his occlumency that it hadn’t happened before now. Oh he’d had plenty of outbursts, but they were mostly a controlled way of letting off steam and when he really needed to let off steam he would retreat to his rooms or somewhere equally as private where he could rip off his mask away from the public and vent his frustrations to the empty room.
It had to happen eventually, so it came to pass in the golden trio’s sixth year that he finally broke.
Peeves had somehow managed to hex all the suits of armour in the castle into dancing a merry jig and flitwick was having to walk around the castle cancelling the charms on each and every one individually, it had meant that the whole school was filled with the rattling and clanking of plate metal as it echoed and bounced off the stone walls of the castle. Leaving all the students equally amused and riled up, as a few had been knocked over and bruised by the dancing plate mail.
The noise was so loud that the students who were trying to brew in pairs, were having to shout to each other to be heard. He couldn’t even cast a silencing charm with students in the class because he had to be aware of everything going on around him.
Topping it off a new Weasley Product was going around which was a kind of joke body spray, which when sprayed on oneself (or sprayed on others as a prank) gave off different scents to different people, meaning that everyone smelled different from one person to the next , and as they had taken their inspiration from Bertie Botts beans, that had meant that one person may smell like strawberries to someone, whereas to someone else they smelled like vomit.
Pranksters had doused most of the student body with the stuff and as it took a few hours to wear away on it’s own and there was no reversal, it meant a number of students had been dry heaving and moving away from their usual friends, having to sit with other students to get away from whatever repugnant aroma some of the students were giving off to each other. This meant that the whole classroom was muddled up and students were not working with their usual friends or neighbours , leading to more arguments, more shouting and more mistakes that caused potions to burn and boil over , belching sickly fumes which steamed in the air and spilling over desks and cauldrons, making a mess of the floor.
No matter how much he barked and snarled and tried to regain order, there was absolute chaos. Potions overboiling and having to be contained, the mixture of smells from sickly sweet sugary syrups to just plain sickening, throwing his senses off and making it hard to judge what was going on in the cauldrons, his usually spotless classroom covered in smoke, splatters and spills, students mixed up in the wrong seats and places and above it all that goddamned unending noise that was ringing in his head, drowning everything out until his head throbbed with pain, his teeth were clenched so hard it hurt and even pacing his usual paths could not diffuse the sensation.
He was going to lose it. He covered his ears with his hands trying to block out the noise.
“Get out” He groaned, backing away from them, needing to be away from the noises, the smells and the sounds.
They didn’t hear him , or didn’t think he was being serious, because no one moved from their stations. Someone knocked a cauldron over and it hit the ground with a large clang, spilling it’s contents all over the desk and floor in the process.
“Now look what you’ve done you idiot!”
“If you’d have done what I said that wouldn’t have happened”
The boys shoved one another, causing a glass ingredient jar, which they were not supposed to bring out of the storage cupboard in the first place because the rules stated they were supposed to fill their own containers and leave the jars in the storage room for that exact bloody reason , to fall to the floor and smash, ruining the entire jar and contents in the puddle below, not only that but the jars were magic resistant which meant the jar could not be repaired and would now forever be missing from the set.
Wandleslly he jerked his hands forward and his magic slammed the door open, causing it to bang against the frame harshly, the noise burning through his head as though the door had hit him in it.
“GET THE FUCK OUT ALL OF YOU”
They scattered. The resulting panicked rush meant even more objects were knocked over and chairs scraped noisily along the floor, the sound going through him like chalk on a board.
He thought he’d finally got rid of them and began urgently trying to right some of the mess in the room, cutting himself on some glass because he’d picked it up with his bare hands in his desperation to put things back to rights. But despite his dismissal Hermione Granger was still in the classroom and looking at him with an odd look, even as she began tidying up her workstation and the one next to her. Even that didn’t help ease his nerves though because even she was in the wrong wrong wrong bloody place, she was supposed to sit to his right with her stupid friends and not to the left in a seat that should be occupied by Theodore Nott.
He tried to tell her to get out, but the words seized in his mouth, as though he’d forgotten how to use them. The classroom was empty now and the cacophony of noise could have been blocked out with a charm but his hands weren’t working, he couldn’t make them pick up his wand and instead he found himself covering his ears and closing his eyes, falling back to old childhood habits he sank to the floor with his back to the desk, rocking as tried to scrunch his eyes and cover his ears and block out the overwhelming amount of information in the room that was just too much to process.
Suddenly the lights dimmed and the sounds and smells disappeared, all but one , vanilla, it was gentle and soothing and reminded him of baking with his grandmother before she had passed. There was a single soft female voice “Forgive me professor” before there was a presence behind him and a tight pressure around his middle and a weight on his back, arms that were wrapped around his chest, wrists locked together at his ribs near his sternum and holding like a vice and he recoiled from it at first, tried to jerk away, but couldn’t, not when he still had his face buried in his knees to shield his eyes, not when he could not pull his hands from his ears or stop the rocking motion if his life depended on it. Even though the sounds and the smells were gone from the room, their echoes were still bouncing around in his head creating an unpleasant buzzing in his face, and he could swear his teeth were vibrating in his jaw from it. The arms around him became tighter and to his utter disbelief instead of feeling worse, trapped, it felt…a bit better. He could feel the sleeve of her robes, the warmth of her on his back and the press of her hands at his ribs, her heartbeat against his back where her chest was pressed against him.
“Bruise paste is one of the simplest of brews that even a potioneer with but a modicum of talent can accomplish easily”
The voice was calming and quiet, barely above a whisper behind him.
“Take one piece of Namira’s root and slice diagonally into 2cm wide strips”
His breathing seemed to be coming easier.
“Then take exactly 3oz of Murtalp essence and warm it slowly in a pewter cauldron, size 2, when it starts to bubble, add the sliced Namira’s Root”
The rocking slowed and though his eyes were still shut, his face was not scrunched up painfully.
“Using a simple pewter stirring rod, make ten counter clockwise stirs and then add a sprig of valerian”
He was able to stretch his legs out in front of him, opening his eyes to the dimmed light of the room and removing his hands from his ears.
“ Make ten clockwise stirs and then add two drops of dittany before letting it cool for -”
“ - 10 minutes…at which point it can be…” His own voice seemed still reluctant to obey him as he trailed off.
“At which point it can be” She continued and he took a deep breath before answering
“At which point it can be decanted into a container and used when cool enough to apply topically”
God he must look a state. Sweating, pale and totally shaken. He felt her release the tight grip on him and was surprised that he mourned their loss, when he was usually so averse to the touch of others. Perhaps that was why he didn’t push her away when she moved to his side, placing a gentle hand on his overheated forehead and another on his chest, helping to ground him to the world that was still spinning around him, though less so than it had been before.
He said nothing , and she was quiet for the longest time before speaking softly.
“My cousin has Autism”
“I am not retarded” he ground out , old hurt threatening to choke him, causing furious tears to burn in his eyes. If he could move he’d push her away.
“I never said you were.” She didn’t react to his biting tone, her voice as level as it had been the entire time. “But we don’t use the word retarded anymore, it’s both offensive and outdated. And having autism doesn’t make you stupid or less, it just means you process things differently”
He breathed harshly and he felt his jaw shaking. He wouldn’t fucking cry damn it.
“I am not crazy Granger , I am not a…a.. schizophrenic or anything else that- ”
She interrupted him again , which usually would raise his ire but the soft pressure she still exerted on his head and chest , was something he didn’t want her to stop just yet.
“That is also an outdated and very wrong view. Autism is not Childhood Scizophrenia, it is not aspergers or being retarded, or slow or backwards or any other derogatory and misunderstood terms that may have been used when you were a child but I can assure you that having autism, being autistic is nothing to be ashamed of nor is it stigmatised…in the muggle world at least. It just means you process things differently, see things…differently. Having a Different view of the world isn’t wrong professor, it’s just different”
“Maybe I don’t want to be different to everyone else” He admitted quietly. “Why does it have to be so hard to fit in? '' Shocked at his own openness, though knowing she wouldn’t tell a soul.
“I like you just as you are.” He snorted but she chucked gently. “It’s true! You’re unique, and brilliant and not enough people see just HOW brilliant. Maybe the problem is that you’re trying so hard to be a sheep,to make other sheep feel better, when you’re simply not a sheep. Don’t get me wrong, sheep are great, so are lions, and badgers, snakes and even wolves. But a lion is not a wolf and a goldfish is not a tiger, so instead of trying so hard to be a good sheep, just accept the jaguar that you are, and find other jaguars who appreciate you for what you are… Or perhaps otters, I hear they have a fondness for jaguars”
She levelled a cheeky wink at him and he barked out a short laugh at her boldness which made her smile.
“Officially It’s called deep pressure for proprioceptive sense , helping you get centred and focus on things in the here and now… personally I just like to think of it as sometimes people just really need a hug”
He stood, slowly and she followed, and she watched him run through what was obviously a well honed routine as he straightened his cuffs and cravat, checking his buttons and straightening his robes. She could practically see him putting himself together, so she stepped back to help give him space to reestablish himself.
She cast a glance at the classroom and thought about helping stay to clean but she could see from the way his eyes were tracking the room, that he’d want to do things his way and she would be better leaving him to it.
“There are things that can help, muggle things, you know? No one in the muggle world would think any less of you for asking…and there’s this” She said as she gathered her things and debating the wiseness of it , she reached into her bag and placed a galleon in his palm.
He looked at it with curiosity barely noticing as she left the room, when the galleon warmed in his hands and he read the message that appeared below.
“And if you ever need a hug from an otter, you know how to find me”
Smiling for a moment , before drawing his occlumency and placing his mask once more, he carefully pocketed his coin, running his fingers again and again over the patterns.
It didn’t leave his pocket for years to come.
And there was one person at least that wasn’t surprised and only pleased when the first time he cast his patronus after the end of the war , he was met with a proud and impressive jaguar.
