BLIND SIGHT - drarry

Ch. four

Draco had seen pictures of the facility when he researched it, so as the motorcycle rolled to a stop, he knew they were at the foot of a long paved drive, bordered with dandelions and forget-me-nots.

Beyond that sat Hamilton House, faced with Doric columns and a sparkling white exterior, but he had taken a tour of the converted manor before making the reservation, and as impressive as the outside was, the inside was cozy, more like a small apartment building than a hospice center, though it had a well-trained medical staff for the residents.

Draco tucked his hand into the crook of Charlie's elbow and let the red head lead him to the door. Once there, Charlie would leave and an attendant would take over, giving Draco his first lessons in how to live, blind.

Draco had been at Hamilton House for six weeks and his days were busy. He learned how to operate appliances as a blind person, made extra difficult by the fact that he hadn't known how to operate a stove or a washing machine when he could see.

He was learning how to read Braille, and how to organize his money, and his closet, so he could find whatever he wanted by memory, with cues from the textured labels he learned how to make and attached to everything. He might be blind, but that didn't mean he had to be badly dressed.

Eventually spells would take care of a lot of these chores, but Draco found some peace in learning how to do things for himself, without help from wands, or house elves, or any other person.

There were periodic outings to the nearby village of Haxley. The villagers were used to the regular influx of sunglass-wearing outsiders tapping white canes over their cobblestone streets and treated the visitors with a kindness and respect Draco hadn't expected from strangers, muggle strangers at that.

Wednesday and Saturday were visiting days at Hamilton House. The first week, the entire Weasley family and most of his friends descended on him, and he'd spent the majority of Saturday trying to explain all the things he still didn't understand to Arthur, until Molly was kind enough to lead her husband away. After that they kept the visitors to a minimum, it was too overwhelming to be surrounded by a crowd, no matter how friendly it was.

Those were his regular visitors, Weasleys and his friends. No one told him anything about Harry, and he never asked. He just focused on learning as much as he could about his new life.

The days were difficult, everything was new, and not only did he have to learn that, but he had to hide his magic as well. Simple charms that could help him coordinate an outfit or find a fallen fork were out of reach to him. Sometimes it was frightening, or frustrating, but he gritted his teeth and went on, and it got easier with time.

The nights were worse.

In the infirmary, he had spent every night with Harry's hand clutched tight in his, but there was no one there now and Draco finally understood what had prompted the Griffindor to hold on with such passion.

It was one thing to be blind during the day, bumping through rooms and around people, and quite another be blind at night. Draco felt more alone than he had ever been, and he ached for another body, for a hand to hold, to make him real. No matter how tightly he fisted his hands into the sheet there was nothing keeping him anchored in the darkness and he was scared.

In those hours, the only thing he really wanted was Harry, but Harry wasn't there. Harry didn't want him.

Eventually, Draco would fall asleep, and a new day would start.

Of all of his guests, Charlie was his favorite. He never mentioned Harry, or Hogwarts, or the war. Instead, they talked about music. Draco wasn't surprised to learn how much the Weasley son enjoyed muggle music, but his own infatuation with it came as a shock.

Every week-end, Charlie brought, or sent, new CD's. Jazz and metal, classical and country-western. Draco had developed a weakness for Patsy Cline, not just a muggle, an American muggle, but Charlie promised not to say anything and Draco believed him.

Neville was a welcome visitor as well. The patient boy was willing to hold Draco's hand for hours on end in silence, letting the blond Slytherin vent out the frustrations of another week in the dark, and Draco felt safe sharing his weakness with someone who would never be able to tell.

It grew easier to sleep after a while, though the nightmares never really went away, and Draco began to appreciate the world of his other senses more, learning to cook, and working in the gardens.

After two months, he felt it was time to move on, to go somewhere new and start again. He was alone, but he would manage.