BLIND SIGHT - drarry

Ch. three

In the weeks Harry had been blind, Draco spent every hour he could researching. Hermione tried to help, but she was more preoccupied with her own recovery and Ron's, and Draco couldn't begrudge her.

There were hundreds of spells that had been devised over centuries specifically to help blind wizards cope with day to day life, from guiding/locating spells to help find items on tables, or in cabinets, to cushioning charms to prevent the inevitable bumps and bruises.

Draco had also done research on transition living facilities. He knew Harry was having a hard time, and Hermione had found a half-way house that catered to people who became blind later in life, teaching them Braille, and how to organize their lives to cope with their new disability.

It was a Muggle facility, Draco thought Harry would be happier there, and if the magic ever failed, he would still be able to live a normal life.

When Draco decided to give up his eyes, he kept the reservations. He didn't know if he wanted to go, and he didn't know if he could feel safe that vulnerable around Muggles, but he was hoping Harry would be with him when he went.

That wasn't going to happen now.

The familiar scent of cinnamon and soap flakes drifted towards him as arrived at the Burrow and brushed ash off of his robe. He had no way of knowing if he'd gotten it off, or if there had been any there in the first place, but better safe than sorry.

He jumped when Molly Weasley's arms wrapped around him, but buried the accompanying squeak of surprise in her shoulder.

"Draco, love? Did it work," she asked, and Draco felt himself being set back on his feet.

He wondered what she saw; the sunglasses had been abandoned back in the infirmary. Did he look the same? Was he scarred?

"Now then, Harry is just behind you, isn't he? I've got lunch ready for both of you, and then George will be by later to drive you over. Draco? You've gone pale. Did something go wrong? Where is Harry?"

Draco opened his mouth, stopped, and swallowed forcefully through the lump in his throat.

"He's not coming. He doesn't want to see- He can't look at me, so I thought it was best to- just to go."

The arms surrounded him again, but this time Draco had braced himself. Molly cried quietly, but Draco had noticed in the infirmary that everything seemed louder and he could hear her as clear as day. As the damp began to soak into his robe he wished someone would come and break up this moment. Draco hadn't cried, hadn't shed one tear, and he had no desire to start.

"Draco? Pom told me what happe- Oh, hey Mum."

Molly sniffled heavily, "Don't you 'hey mum' me, Charlie. You take me back to Hogwarts on that motor-bikel of yours and I'll give our Harry a good talking to."

Draco sighed, "No."

"But, Draco dear-"

"No. He... He's said how he feels. He doesn't want to see me? Well, then he doesn't have to. It's probably for the best. I can use this time to learn, to get used to... to how things will be now. And besides," Draco said, turning a gentle smile to where he thought Molly was standing, "You're his family. He needs you on his side now."

Then Draco turned towards Charlie's voice, "I'm ready to go, and I don't want to wait for George. Can you take me? I sent most of our things ahead, so you can just bring Harry's back with you.

I- I should be happy, right? After all, now I can have the whole closet to myself."

Draco laughed slightly, awkwardly, but the room seemed to echo with it. Taking off his robe and handing it to Molly, leaving him in Muggle jeans and a jumper, he let Charlie lead him to the motorcycle and held on to the red-head tight, trying to focus on the sensation of whipping down the road, so much like flying.

And if thin trails of salt water made their way down his face as they rode away from the Burrow, from the wizarding world, from Harry...

Well, that was just the wind, burning his skin.