Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Love in the Dark (Cormac McLaggen)

A warning, before I post this one - this one shot features a blind character. I did my best to try and research it in order to give a good portrayal of it. But, if any of you fawns are visually impaired yourself and happen to use text to speech software or something to read my work, and feel like I could do better/I need to change something - please let me know. 

Anyway enjoy ~

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A pub was the very last place I'd ever expected to seek refuge away from the bustling crowd in the streets. But it turned out, it was the perfect escape. When the street had become overcrowded with people clambering to get a look at some famous person, I'd ducked into the nearest place and memory alone told me that I was in a pub. My suspicions were quickly confirmed by the various orders I heard being placed. I'd placed an order for my drink, struggling to push through the crowd until someone caught sight of me and then they were all parting for me like the red sea. After I was done, someone had kindly offered to help carry it back for me and I thanked them.

Sitting in a corner booth, with some much needed privacy, I took slow sips of my pumpkin juice, content to wait out the crowd. I quickly came to regret the decision I'd made; it seemed this was the worst possible place to choose as my refuge. Whoever had caused the ruckus in the streets had decided to step inside for a drink and unfortunately for me, they brought the crowd with them. At first, I was tempted to wait in the hopes that the noise would die down. But I was proved wrong. If anything, the noise continued to get louder and louder until it grew too much. Draining the last of my pumpkin juice, I reached out to the chair beside me where I'd rested my walking stick.

Searching the seat, I groaned when my fingers brushed against it and it clattered to the floor. Sighing, I reached out for it, but couldn't seem to find it. I propped a hand haphazardly on the table, planning on rising up to try and find the walking stick.

"Here," a voice so familiar that it knocked my breath away, started from beside me, "let me get that for you."

Good Merlin, I could not do this. How could I face him again without at least having some time to prepare myself? And yet there was no time to prepare myself because I needed the help – he could see where my walking stick had fallen and I could not. Still, I held a handout expectantly, waiting for the walking stick that never seemed to come.

And then it came, confused and hesitant and so, so heartbreakingly gentle. "Tabler?"

"McLaggen," I greeted back so gently it came out in a whisper I was surprised he picked up on it. Because it all made sense now; the crowd was here for him. Cormac, who had become a famous Quidditch player upon leaving school was surrounded by his adoring fans. And who did he happen to stumble upon? A blast from the past. A probably unwelcome blast from the past, at that. At the continued silence, I murmured, "Can I have my walking stick back?"

"Oh – sorry," he said quickly, his voice sounding so close beside me that it was like he was kneeling in front of me. His hand – warm and gentle – wrapped around my wrist as he placed my walking stick in my hand. I wrapped my hand comfortingly around it, waiting for the inevitable question. Because it would come, soon enough. He would ask – they all asked. It was only natural for him to want to know what had happened to me, why I couldn't see anymore. But then, soft as the whispers we used to share in a hidden corridor in Hogwarts, he said, "Merlin, it's good to see you. I mean –"

"It's ok," I assured him, using my free hand to push his hand off me.

With a practiced motion, I rose to my feet and started to move my walking stick around, getting a feel of the space around me. Once or twice, my stick bumped against his shoe but still, Cormac didn't move away. I could feel the weight of his eyes on me but he said nothing.