BLIND SIGHT - drarry

Ch. nine

"I'm sorry. Mr. Mallow, but we're not hiring at this time."

"I'm sorry, we require more experience."

"Look, I hate to say it, but we can't have a blind kid selling jeans. How can you tell people what to buy if you can't see it? I'm sorry. Try next door."

The worst parts were the apologies. If Draco wanted to hear people grovel that badly, he'd go back to Harry.

All he wanted was a job.

He didn't need the money, the Malfoy estates kept him quite comfortable. He just needed- He needed something to do. The joy of tourist life had faded fast, and now Draco knew why most vacations were only a week long; his other option, being a 'domestic goddess' as Charlie put it, had never held much appeal.

And while Draco was capable of doing a lot, even without the help of magic, finding a job didn't seem to be something he could manage.

"I just get sick of it, Charles." Draco winced at the whining note in his voice. "It sounds like they're not just sorry, they're sorry for me."

"Well, I'm not sure what to tell you. I've never tried working in the Muggle world, wouldn't know how to go about it." Draco heard Charlie take a deep breath, "Harry was at the house."

Shocked, Draco was silent.

"He came to dinner. I didn't tell him anything, just gave mum and dad an update. But he looked really upset."

Weakly, Draco replied, "Did he?"

"Yeah. He spent most of dinner staring into space, fiddling with this necklace he was wearing. 'S weird, you know?"

"What is?"

"His face with your eyes. Maybe you should contact him."

Draco shook his head, "No. He doesn't want to see me. He made that very clear. It's better like this, anyway, he can build a new life, and so can I."

Draco got up from his chair and made his way to the bathroom, trailing one hand against the wall.

Behind him, Charlie muttered something. Since Draco lost his eyes, his ears had become sharper, and he heard every word clear as a bell.

"If you want to build a new life, why haven't you?"

Closing the door firmly behind him, Draco flipped the lock and whispered to himself through gritted teeth, "I don't know how."

(12345)

That night the dreams were fiercer than before. He had slept through the operation to remove his eyes, but in the dream he was aware, and Harry was standing over him, holding a knife. The pain was excruciating, but even worse was the look on Harry's face.

Firm hands shook him awake, "Draco! Wake up! It's just a dream."

Draco ran his hands roughly over his face. Cold trickles of fear sweat dotted his forehead and hairline. Grabbing up a corner of the sheet he dried it away, then stood up, batting Charlie's hands away when the man tried to help.

"What was it this time? The plane again?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Draco groused, his throat hoarse from fighting the screams.

"You should. This isn't healthy. You haven't had a proper sleep in ages, and thanks to your nightmares, neither have I."

"Then leave."

A pregnant silence filled the small bedroom. Draco walked over to the window and felt the sun against his face.

"What?"

"You heard me, Charles."

Charlie didn't reply, and Draco heard the soft hush of steps across the lushly carpeted floor, followed by the sound of a door closing.

Draco waited for a minute, but didn't hear another door, so Charlie was probably still in the apartment, just sulking somewhere, but he had to be sure.

The blond made his way to the door, and out into the apartment, "Charles? Charlie? Are you still here?"

Bogart whimpered softly in a dream, but there were no other sounds.

"Charlie?"

Draco walked down the hall to Charlie's room. The door was open, and he paused in the entryway, listening intently.

"Charlie?"

Draco heard nothing, even holding his breath so there would be no distractions, but there was no one there. The acrid scent of Floo powder drifted through the air

Charlie had gone and Draco was alone, again.

Completely.