Losing Sight

"I can feel your tears," Harry whispered, almost shocked.

Draco smiled bleakly, clutching Harry's hand to his cheek. He rubbed against it lightly as it slid up to his eyes again, feeling the slight hollows with their lingering dampness. His eyes were still closed, still denying the world around them. He felt this sacrifice was necessary so that for one moment in time he could understand what Harry was experiencing.

It wasn't fair that Harry was blind, his eyes torn from him, and there was no way that Draco could make it any better. Even sharing his lover's misery wouldn't make it go away. In truth, closing his eyes did nothing for Harry. It was the effect it had on Draco that was important.

He couldn't live not knowing, not understanding, and always feeling guilty. When his eyes were open, staring at Harry's sightless gaze, he couldn't help feeling that he should be blinded as well. Weren't lovers supposed to share in everything, even pain?

"Draco, what's wrong?" Harry asked, stroking Draco's closed eyes in gentle desperation.

"Nothing," he whispered, hating the lie as he said it.

* * *

Harry had screamed when Voldemort's blast hit him, and for one instant in time, Draco had thought he was dead. After that moment, after that scream, he couldn't remember anything except the sickening hollow feeling that was growing within him. He had changed sides though he knew that by doing so he signed his own death certificate, betrayed his family though it tore him to pieces inside, and left behind all that was familiar and dear to him. All of this for one person who might now be dead, gone. Harry.

He had really had no choice when it came to changing sides. He owed his mortal enemy. They had met again when on opposite sides, Draco having been sent to gain needed information from the Ministry's files. Harry hadn't killed him.

It was a simple thing, but it had affected Draco strangely. His own father wouldn't have saved him if he was caught stealing important documents. That an enemy would do so was almost unbelievable to him.

Two days later, Draco had joined the Order of the Phoenix, two weeks later, he realized he loved Harry, and two months later, Harry screamed and the world seemed to end. For what seemed like hours, he had sat there, unable to move or speak, unable to even think. It had all hurt too much. Then Harry had stumbled forth, and Draco had seen his eyes.

Harry lived, blind but still alive. Draco was never sure that this was a good thing.

* * *

He held the knife lightly in his hands, staring at it with some sort of sick fascination. He knew what he was about to do and knew that he really had no choice any longer. It hurt too much to look at Harry's lost eyes, and there was only one way to make the situation better. Neither would have to see the other's hurt and pain if both were sightless. It would even out the situation, restore the balance. Together in infirmity, Draco thought mirthlessly. Just one small cut, then the darkness would hold its rightful place.

He had always liked the night better anyway.

* * *

The room was quiet and still, possessing an emptiness that frayed on Harry's nerves. He knew Draco was there, could hear the harsh intake of his breathing. Yet, the other man wouldn't speak. Harry took another step, holding his hand out before him.

"Draco," he called again. Helpless.

As he moved again, he felt something press against his bare foot. Something warm and soft. Something that breathed and moaned as if in pain. Draco, he realized with horror.