BLIND SIGHT - drarry

Ch. twentyone

As soon as the bedroom door closed Draco collapsed against it, sliding to the floor and throwing his sunglasses at the wall before burying his face in his hands.

He'd done it. He'd sent Harry away.

In the months since he lost his sight he's imagined their meeting a million different ways.

At first he pictured Harry storming in like the clichéd knight on a white charger, his penitent heart in his hands as he swept Draco into his arms murmuring a stream of apologies and promises.

Very romance novel.

Not that Draco would know.

Then as months passed and Harry never came he imagined a cooler greeting.

In those fantasies Harry was on his knees begging for forgiveness that would... eventually... be

granted.

This was nothing like the encounters he'd pictured and the only word that sprang to mind was, why.

"Draco?"

Draco winced. He expected Harry would leave, but the other man was still there.

"Draco?"

"Go away, Potter." Draco tried to keep his voice even and cool, hoping Harry wouldn't hear the thick sound of tears.

There was a silence from the other side of the door, and then, "No."

"No?" Draco could only parrot the stupid, simple word. It felt awkward and unwieldy on his tongue, so he said it again. "No?"

"No, Draco, I won't go. I worked too hard to find you. I can't give up now."

"Give up?" Again with the parroting. Draco shook his head, feeling the temper that had faded to cold shock when he realized Harry found him begin to burn again. "You gave up already. It's over. It's been over."

"I was wrong."

Draco snorted. "You know, I don't believe you've ever said those words to me before." He took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter what you say now Potter."

"It does matter. I love you and I'm not giving up. Again, if that's what you need to hear. I'm not giving up again."

Draco held his breath. Too much was going on, his thoughts flying in a hundred different directions.

"Look Potter, I can't do this right now. You and me. We crashed and burned last time and I can't do that again." And to Draco's disgust the last word broke on a sob.

There was silence from Harry's side of the door and then, "Can we go back to being friends at least?"

Draco couldn't stop himself. He smiled through his tears. "We were never friends, Harry."

"That's not true," Harry said.

"We were never fucking friends, Potter!" Draco's throat was sore from shouting, but it was either shout or let the tears that were on the verge of falling go, and anger seemed the better option.

Draco heard a heavy thump against the other side of the door, followed by a hushing slide.

"Are you sitting down, Potter?"

A pause, then, "Yes."

"You know, you're supposed to leave after that."

"Am I?"

Draco didn't know what to say to that so he said nothing, just absorbed the sensation of the carpet under his feet and the cool breeze coming out of the air conditioning duct.

"We never were friends, were we," Harry asked, musingly.

"No." It was the only answer he had.

"Could we be friends, do you think?"

"I'm not sure."

"Could we try?"

There was something solemn and serious in Harry's tone that forced Draco to think about it, would not let the flat dismissal fall from his lips.

"I don't know."

The silence between them was heavy and before Harry could break it, Draco said, "I need you to go now."

"But—"

"No. I need to think, and you need to think, and you need to go."

He heard Harry rise again and the other man's voice grew fainter as he walked away. "I'm going to give my contact information to Charlie. I love you and I want you back, but after everything that's happened it has to be on your terms." There was a pause and then Harry went on. "This time everything is on your terms. If you decide that you don't want me anymore, then I understand. But if you do, I will be waiting."

Then Draco heard the door open and close and Harry was gone.

For a brief moment he wanted to kick himself. He had him! Harry had been there, in the apartment, only a few feet away. They were so close to getting everything back the way it was.

Before Draco knew it he was halfway across the living room, hoping Harry would still be outside. He reached up to make sure his sunglasses were still in place, but as his fingers encountered only his own skin he froze. Stopped.

His legs suddenly weak beneath him he sank to the floor of the living room. Bogart wandered over and set her head on his shoulders and he reached up to scratch her ears.

What was he doing? Only seconds ago he told Harry to leave, and moments before the other man asked if they could be friends. Draco was torn between getting up again and chasing Harry down and just curling up in a ball on the carpet until everything went away.

There was no going back. There was nothing to go back to. The relationship he and Harry had during the war was over and gone, as thoroughly blown to pieces as Malfoy Manor.

He heard the door open and braced himself. Was it Harry?

"D? Is everything cool now? I saw Harry by the elevator, he looked—"

Draco didn't wait for Charlie to finish. He lurched to his feet and rushed for the door, pushing past the red head and out to the elevator bank.

"Harry? Harry, are you out here?"

His answer was silence.

"He left, D. I saw him get on the elevator myself. What happened?"

Draco ignored Charlie and strained his ears, listening for Harry's breath, or the rustle of his invisibility cloak, any clue that the other man might still be there.

But there was nothing.

Draco put out his right arm and side-stepped slowly until he reached a wall. He leaned heavily against the cool surface and rubbed his other hand over his face.

He heard muffled steps over the thick pile carpet of the hallway and tensed, relaxing when he heard Charlie's voice.

"What happened, D?"

Draco bit back something painful, half giggle, half sob, and said. "I sent him away, Charles. This time I sent him away."

Too tired to fight, Draco let Charlie lead him back into the apartment. Even with the two of them inside, it seemed much emptier than it had before.