Of Sight and Sound

~ "Did you hear that?" said the blind man to the deaf man. ~

Draco stood in the cockatrice pen; afraid to even breathe lest he disturb one of the horrific creatures he pictured surrounding him. Once he heard Prof. Snape's departing footsteps panic seemed to seize him. He was trapped, unarmed and blind in a pen of potentially vicious cockatrices. Partially dependent, on Harry Potter of all people, for his survival. The only thought that gave some comfort was that Potter was as equally dependent on him.

He stretched out with his remaining senses, trying to get better stock of his surroundings. He could hear the wind rustling the trees of the nearby forbidden forest to his left, as he could also feel it blowing in his face. He could hear the deep rumbling breathing of the cockatrices as they slept. He could smell the crisp night air, laced with the scent of the beasts themselves.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized why Snape had chosen to make him blind instead of Potter. If Draco had been made deaf, he could have very well used his remaining eyesight to abandon a helpless Potter and let him stumble his way to possible disfiguration (which he would very well be tempted to do). But Potter, being the annoyingly brave and chivalrous Gryffindor he was, would never leave Draco to meet that fate. Snape was indeed a true Slytherin. If he weren't so angry and scared he would have applauded his teacher for the simple genius of this punishment.

He really didn't know what had gotten into Snape. The teacher usually gave him a lot of slack. But lately his head of house would issue him the same punishments he would give other students.

For a second he considered writing his father to tell him how he was being treated. But he quickly reconsidered it. His father had started making it clear the summer passed that he expected Draco to "be a man" and "deal with his own problems". Or in other words, Lucius was too busy being a lackey to Voldemort to pay any interest in his son.

He froze as he thought he heard one of the creatures stir. 'Where is Potter?' He anxiously thought to himself. He was desperate to locate the other boy, who would have to serve as his eyes. He heard a rustling to his right.

Okay, time to find Potter.

The rustling grew closer. His fear overcame his good sense when he called, in a harsh whisper, "Potter!" He was chastising himself a second later. "Potter is deaf you fool," he muttered to himself. "He can't hear you."

He jumped a foot in the air when, right into his ear, Potter yelled, "What were you saying Malfoy!"

Draco nearly lost his balance, but hands grabbed the front of his cloak to steady him. "Merlin, Potter!" He said, again in that harsh whisper. "Stop yelling! I'm not the one who's deaf."

"WHAT?" Potter yelled again, even louder this time.

Was that a mewing sound reaching Draco's ears?

Frantic Draco turned towards Harry's voice, only taking half a step before colliding with the other boy. He reached up a hand, hoping to cover Potter's mouth. Only managing to poke Potter in the eye (an amazing feat, considering they were covered by glasses), causing his rival let out an earsplitting yelp.

"Watch what you're doing, you idiot!"

Draco didn't even take the time to marvel at the stupidity of that comment before successfully locating and covering Potter's mouth. He said in a dangerous whisper, careful to overly enunciate each word.

"BE. QUIET."

After a few seconds of struggling Potter seemed to clue in. He broke free of Draco, and in a normal tone asked.

"Now what are we supposed to do?"

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~ "Did you see that?" said the deaf man to the blind man ~

Harry was sweating now, long since disposing of his cloak. Malfoy stood right in front of him, still shivering. Harry was doing most of the work, he didn't want to risk having Malfoy blindly stumbling about, potentially treading on a slumbering cockatrice. And he also wanted to keep the other boy in his line of sight at all times. So Harry had given him the task of holding the bin in which he would shovel the waste.

As he hefted up another shovel full of animal droppings, he cursed Snape for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. The teacher had obviously known what he'd been doing when he selected to make Malfoy blind and Harry deaf. Being blind got Malfoy out most of the backbreaking labor he, Harry, was now forced to do alone.

He glanced at Malfoy, trying to read his expression and body language for any hint that something may be wrong.

Harry was starting to adjust to his now silent world by relying on his other senses. He became acutely aware of any movement that caught his eye, any vibrations in the ground that would signal him of someone (or thing's) approach. He was aware of any change in the air or any scent that hadn't been there before.

Funnily enough it was the little sounds he missed the most. The wind blowing in his ears, the rustle of his clothing, his own comforting breathing and heartbeat. He felt very disconnected from the rest of the world, which still existed in sound.

It also wasn't too comforting to know that he had to rely on Malfoy for anything, let alone his safety.

Harry wished Dumbledore was there, but the headmaster was away for the weekend along with Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. The wise old wizard would surely put a stop to this punishment. Or would he? The enigmatic Dumbledore could very well find the whole thing amusing.

Harry let his mind wander to all the things he would do to Snape if ever he had the courage to get revenge.

He spared another glance at Malfoy who now appeared to be saying something.

In what he hoped was a hushed voice Harry asked, "What's that Malfoy?"

He cast a quick look around when Malfoy started at the sound of his voice. But the other boy only shook his head and mouthed what looked to be, "Nothing."

The two had established, after the first confused and frantic minutes, that in order to communicate Malfoy must give Harry some sort of visual sign, usually a nod or headshake.

He fought back another wave of annoyance at the other boy who, despite his shivering, looked quite smug. Apparently enjoying listening to Harry grunt and groan as he worked.

Harry had to withstand the urge to simply abandon Malfoy in the pen to fend for himself. But of course his pesky conscience wouldn't let him.

He let out what he thought was a world-weary sigh and continued with his work. And after what seemed like an eternity he was down to the last pile of filth that needed to be disposed of. He led Malfoy by the shoulders to reposition him to keep him within his line of vision and carried on.

When Harry was done he made to move towards Malfoy but found his foot caught on something. When he looked down he saw that one of the cockatrices had shifted in it's sleep and it's leg was now pinning his foot. This could get tricky.

"Here, hold this," he said to Malfoy, preparing to give his shovel a slight toss towards the other boy. But he miscalculated his throw. He had thrown it too hard, the handle of the shovel crashing into an unsuspecting Malfoy's face. With what looked like a shout of pain and surprise Malfoy fell backwards.

Straight onto a sleeping Cockatrice.

Forgetting the predicament he, himself was in, Harry took a step towards his fallen companion. Managing to only fall forward, onto his face. With the wind knocked out of him, he took one second to ponder how odd if felt to fall with no sound.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Malfoy struggling to get to his feet. Harry rushed over to help him.

"Are you alright?" He asked as a panicky Malfoy found his footing.

The other boy seemed to be losing it, making frantic gestures, his face frozen in fear. It took a few seconds for Harry to clue in to what was causing the other's distress. A quick glance around confirmed his fear. The cockatrices were waking up.

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