Harry Woke Up

Seeing Hermione had been so great. Harry almost felt like a real person again. But 'seeing' Hermione go with loud, echoing footsteps and a warm hand leaving him cold - his world fell back into solitary torture and discontent.

Hermione had tried finding Harry for the past couple of weeks. She and Ron had both been there when Harry was taken out of St Mungo's, but no one had informed them where Harry had been taken, and the proper documents had somehow been lost.

"I kept searching, I knew you had to be somewhere! I've never seen this place though. It's part of St Mungo's, but it's a separate branch and the left and right hands don't really seem aware of each other. Anyway, Ron wanted to come when I finally found you, but he's at work now and the kids are with Ron's mum... Oh, I'm just so happy to see you, Harry!"

Harry smiled and found her hand, giving it a nice squeeze. Spending so much time with Draco had almost left him feeling like a mute.

"Do you know when I can leave?" he asked with a hoarse voice. He hadn't been speaking much recently.

"I asked them! They said you had agreed on an indefinite stay in the program. They have a few more weeks until they have a progress consultation with you, and they'll meet with you about continuing or discontinuing the program. Has anything worked yet? Can you see anything?"

"No... nothing." It was curious to Harry that Hermione managed to talk with whoever 'they' were but Harry had been told very little ever since awaking in the flat.

"Are you... you sure you're all right? You look a bit peaky and you feel warm." She was showing her usual concern to Harry and forcefully reminding him of a certain Mrs. Weasley.

"I'm fine." It was an automatic response and Harry didn't bother considering whether it was true or not.

"Really?" Hermione was never fooled.

"Headache." He heard the sharp intake of breath.

"Not like before?" Fear was in her voice.

"No, he's gone, Hermione. Just a normal headache." He scratched at his forehead and took a breath, hoping she would forget about it.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Her hand softly pet against his face. He felt himself relax a little. Something felt nice about a hand against his face. He didn't feel so lost and solitary in his darkness.

"I don't know why I'm here," he said quietly. "And I don't know why I'm with him." He wanted to confess the difficulty of being a blind man living with a deaf man, his frustration with the simplest of tasks, and his deep consternation over communication. He felt robbed of being a human, of having expression and thoughts. He could only convey feelings through childish outbursts and simple sentence writing.

He wanted to admit to Hermione how difficult it was not only to be a blind wizard stuck with a deaf man, but for that man to be someone he found it nearly impossible to tolerate. The balance of acquaintances, friends, and enemies was a precarious one. It was another kind of theft he felt when his most embarrassing and disempowering moments were all lived in front of someone who hated him, and would use such moments not only for torment, but to weaken the image in mind. Malfoy could see Harry at his weakest, and Harry hated it.

He wanted to explain it all to Hermione, regardless of whatever she would say; he just wanted to tell her, to talk about it. But something kept him from doing so.

"I don't know, Harry." Her voice was soft and tinged with darkness.

"Did I know I'd be here, with him?" He sounded morose and dispirited, even to his own ears.

"No. He was in St Mungo's like you. They found him at the battle. I think he was helping the Aurors-"

"Yeah..." Harry nodded, remembering the hazy images of Malfoy aiding the final attack against the Death Eaters.

"I guess they decided to offer him the same deal they offered you." Hermione's voice was stuck between resignation and hope, and perhaps a bit of sympathy.

"It wasn't much of deal. I had nothing to lose and they have everything to gain... Sit around like a guinea pig drinking potions, hoping one day I get my life back."

"Harry, losing your eye-sight is not losing your life," Hermione reprimanded.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered.

"Stop that," she said sharply, slapping his shoulder. He shrugged in assent, knowing she was right. He wasn't going to allow this to beat him, but at the moment he certainly felt beaten. Being blind wasn't the end of the world or the end of his life. In his highest hopes, the ones he rarely allowed himself to feel, he held out on the idea that this therapy and the potions, that they would work and he would be able to see again.

But most days he had accepted blindness, at least for now. He couldn't think of the years before him, he could only think of the present, the few months in the future, and he could accept being blind. He didn't let himself think about all the things he would never see. That thought was too heavy.

And as it was, he supposed not having to see Draco Malfoy every day was actually a very good thing. Too bad he could still hear him.

And that brought Harry to another problem. Fighting with Draco Malfoy. Hard punches and harsh words. Those moments of pseudo-friendship could be wiped away just as easily as they had been written. He was a cruel and arrogant wizard, who understood very little and knew just the right things to say to prod his enemy into all the wrong, heated emotions. Harry hated that Malfoy had such power over him. He had always been able to manipulate Harry's emotions, and it was maddening.

For most people in the world, Harry didn't care what they thought or said. Throughout all his years in Hogwarts, he had endured all kinds of talk, gossip, ridicule, and meanness. He wasn't generally bothered by it, not unless something came from Hermione or Ron - people who were close to him, people who could hurt him.

But then there was Malfoy.

Harry had never been close to him, but still he could hurt him. The right words, the perfect taunt, and then Harry's emotions were exploding. He shouldn't care what Malfoy said or did, and yet he always had. Perhaps he felt he had to prove something... but why to Malfoy? And why for all those years?

"Harry, they said I couldn't visit long. You know, they're quite strict about all their procedures. I suppose they think any little variance could alter the patient's outcome. Curious..." She had that sound in her voice as though she was thinking much, much deeper about the issue, examining it in that fascinating mind of hers. In all their years as friends, Harry had never found himself bored with Hermione; he could never completely figure her out, nor know every thing about her. He liked that.

"Right. It was good to see you," Harry smiled faintly, then faltered. "I... I mean, I'm glad you came."

"I know what you mean, Harry. Don't worry about things like that, all right?" She patted his leg. "I'll be back again, now that I know where you are! As often as they'll let me in to see you, I'll be coming. Ron will come too, and I reckon Ginny will want to see you. She was really worried you know."

There was a silent pause between them, neither saying any more as the sentence hung in the air.

"Just take care of yourself, all right? Try to be positive. I know this isn't easy but maybe they'll find something that works. And you're not alone in this, okay?" Hermione's words were kind, and the perfect words to be said, but Harry knew immediately that it wasn't enough. He felt like he was sinking and the encouraging words were nothing but an un-inflated raft, sinking with him.

Hermione hugged him and kissed his forehead, promising to see him again and to bring the others with her. Then, she was gone.

And so were all feelings of happiness and relief. He was alone again. No, worse than alone. He was trapped with Malfoy, rendered blind and mute. Merely half a man, if even that. Who cared if he had defeated Voldemort and finally put an end to the movement of his followers. He was now a bumbling, mumbling idiot who couldn't even tell off sneering, arrogant, spoiled Draco Malfoy.

Harry wanted out.

Out of the program, out of the flat, out of Malfoy's presence. If they had told him this was his deal in the first place, he never would have agreed. He would have gladly accepted a lifetime of blindness rather than these days spent with Malfoy and only a small hope of ever seeing again.

Harry's headache was back. He hadn't noticed it much when Hermione was talking to him, but now it was pounding against his forehead, spilling over onto his left eye, which was closed in response. He rubbed at his useless eye, grimacing at the pain.

Harry took a deep breath and leaned back on his bed, his feet still on the floor but his body sprawled horizontally and his hands clasped behind his head. He tried to still every thought and feeling in him. He swam around in the darkness before him, only occasionally distracted by some small noise in the room.

Like the noise of feet walking toward him.

"What'd she have to say?" Malfoy asked, sounding only feet from Harry's bed. His voice was even and emotionless, neither enemy nor friend. Harry sighed. Why did Malfoy always have to ask something that required more than a yes or no? Something that required Harry to practically hold Malfoy's hand and scrawl out some pointless answer that meant nothing to Malfoy?

Harry had no hope of conveying all his thoughts to Malfoy, not by writing on his hand. It worked for small things but it was too much when he had so many things to say. He wondered, if he could really communicate with Malfoy, would they get past their loathing of one another? Or would it be easier to hate one another when they could both hurtle insults and hear them?

Malfoy was sitting on Harry's bed, his leg apparently curled up and his knee brushing against Harry's hip. Then a hand rested on Harry's elbow. Reluctantly Harry took Malfoy's hand and began writing.

She found me.

"Obviously. Did she have any information?" It sounded as though Malfoy had only just stopped himself from sneering.

On what?

"Us." Us. Us? Us...

In a few weeks we meet to talk about our progress.

"Is that all?"

If we want to continue.

"If?" Harry nodded. Malfoy was silent, then, "And how is Granger?" He sounded disgusted as he spoke her name.

Fine.

"And the brats?" Malfoy sneered. Harry punched against Malfoy's hand, hard and quick, and the hand recoiled for a moment.

"All right, all right. Her kids? Weasel...?"

Fine.

"Potter, can't you bother saying anything more? What are you, a two-year-old?" Malfoy sounded frustrated.

"Yes, I can, but you can't hear it," Harry growled.

"Stop that," Malfoy barked. Harry shoved Malfoy's hand away and replaced his hands behind his head. He was through talking to him.

Malfoy swore angrily, attempted to get his hand back to Harry's to pull a response from him. "Why won't you talk to me?!" He was nearly shouting.

Harry sat up abruptly and heard Malfoy shift. "Because I can't! I can't write on your stupid hand! I have more to say than what will fit, and it'll never work to write it all out! And what's more, you don't care what I have to say, so it's humiliating that you keep trying to force something out of me when you'll never understand it, and even if you did, it'll make no difference! Leave me alone, Malfoy!" Harry did shout the last line and he clumsily shoved at Malfoy's body, not exactly certain where his hands were landing. He scowled and Malfoy remained silent.

Just as abruptly as he had sat up, Harry now stood up, strode across the room and pulled out his new potion from the fridge. He had forgotten to take it that morning and he needed an excuse to get away from Malfoy. He liked it better when the wizard stayed on his own side of the room.

"Fine, Potter," Malfoy spat, and Harry could hear him moving back to the sitting area. Harry replaced the potion and silently began to return to his bed. The easiest way to escape this nightmare and Draco Malfoy was to sleep.

All was well with his plan until halfway to his bed Harry collapsed.

Black. Falling. Darkness. Spinning. Nausea. Sharp pain. Dull ache.

Lying flat. Churning. Loud noises. A firm grip...

"Potter?!" Harry rubbed his head, uncertain as to how he had ended up on the floor. He was also unsure of where he was, exactly.

"Are you okay?" Malfoy was holding his arm. Harry nodded, wincing at the surging pain in his head, attempting to sit up.

All thoughts left Harry as he concentrated on standing up again, allowing Malfoy to guide him, even leaning on the blond wizard. Instead Harry was trying to block out the pain in his head and the churning in his stomach. It required all his concentration to keep him from vomiting and passing out again.

"Here's your bed," Malfoy said, sitting Harry down. Harry massaged his head and breathed deeply, trying to keep his stomach settled.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked.

"Potter!" It was more demanding this time.

"Come on!" Hands on his shoulders, shaking Harry.

And then, all went black.