Harry Woke Up

The next night after another messy dinner, the boys found themselves enthralled with the movies again. That day had given Potter a few hazy visions but mostly by late afternoon it seemed as though he was truly completely blind again.

They needed something to raise their spirits.

Draco laid out their blankets and pillows on the floor while Potter worked on putting the funny little disc into the small machine. They had pushed all of their furniture around until they had a wide open space on the floor where they stacked up the sofa cushions, their pillows and as many blankets as they could find in the small flat.

Potter had convinced Draco that it was the best way to watch a movie, and that movies should always be watched in the dark. The latter wasn't difficult however, since their flat had no windows. It only occurred to Draco as an afterthought to wonder whether this was something blokes did together, but he was afraid to ask in case it turned Potter off to the idea.

Draco wasn't uncomfortable with it, not by a long shot. He had by now grown accustomed to an unsuspected intimacy and closeness with Potter. That, of course, went on the list of things not to be admitted.

Logically, Draco knew whether they sat on the sofa or laid on the floor to watch a movie, they would have to be close, at least, if they intended to say anything to each other, they would.

Potter was now crawling over to the blankets, feeling around for a pillow. Draco followed his example and sat down on the left side, helping situate Potter on his half of the space.

"Muggles came up with this?" Draco asked in awe as he watched images flash across the screen of the TV. It looked like a wizard's moving picture but Potter had told him yesterday that there were sounds and songs and voices too, only Draco wouldn't hear any of it.

"It's still... I don't know, odd. Like a photo," Draco continued, glancing away from the screen to see Potter who was nodding. They both leaned back along the blankets, falling onto cushiony pillows as Potter felt around on the remote until he felt the button he had memorised from yesterday that would magically start the movie.

Draco watched, enthralled, as the images moved and flashed. People, all Muggles of course, walked and talked and before long they were running and driving cars and things were exploding. From the cover of the DVD and the description of the movie, it sounded like an action movie. Potter had told him there were loads of different kinds of movies out there. Draco reckoned that wizards should make their own, complete with wands, spells, and dynamic duelling scenes.

As the movie grew into a slow spot, Draco was getting antsy. It was only his second movie and he already knew that he didn't like the slow emotional scenes, nor the love scenes, for that matter. He couldn't hear the people and their tones of voices; they were just images. He had to read the dialogue on the screen, which was a little less interesting. Of course, Potter, on the other hand, could hear everything but see no one. He missed the little glances between people and their overt body language, as well as all the scenery, architecture, and... well, everything.

"Hey Potter," Draco whispered. The brunet turned his head toward him.

"What do you think so far?" Draco nudged his hand against Potter's to encourage a response.

It's okay.

"Have you seen it before?" When Draco had asked him that before they started the movie, Potter had been unsure.

No.

The people onscreen were talking very closely together, clearly saying something secret or intimate, but Draco was ignoring it.

"What do you think the people look like?" He was curious what images Potter had in his mind from the voices and sounds on the movie - the ones Draco was missing. He glanced away from the screen to Potter, who was frowning in thought.

The man, tall, brown hair. Brown eyes. Not big or small. Nice clothes.

"Well, you're half right!" Draco chuckled. "He's got blond hair and blue eyes, but he is tall and he's dressed well, if I do say so myself." Potter shrugged with a half smile.

"The bird?"

Cute. Long brown hair, normal height, short skirt. Potter grinned. Blue eyes, nice lips, nice chest.

He was positively smirking now and Draco pulled his hand away to smack at Potter who progressed into laughter. For a flash of a moment, a wave of melancholy washed over Draco as the desire to actually hear Potter's laughter pulled at him. Then it was gone as quick as it came and Draco was chuckling, too.

"I don't know about cute, Potter. She looks rather plain to me. But she does have long brown hair. It's in one of those pony tail things. But she has brown eyes, not blue ones. She's definitely not wearing a short skirt. Jeans right now..."

Lips? Chest? Harry was grinning wildly, fighting off more laughter.

"Lips look like lips." Draco shoved Potter who was laughing too hard to listen. "Chest looks like the Weaslette's."

That pulled a response. Potter stopped laughing and gawked at Draco. The blond feared for his life. Perhaps Potter would take offence to his comment and haul off punching him again. With that one comment, Draco might have successfully ruined the very enjoyable time they had been sharing.

He waited, watching Potter who finally closed his mouth.

Then the brunet burst out in laughter, looking as though he was howling in delight as he curled up, clutching his stomach in what appeared to be full-bellied guffaws. Draco grinned, pleased at the response and his ability to draw such enjoyment from the other wizard.

When Potter finally stopped laughing, he was wiping tears from his eyes and stretching back into a more comfortable position. They both settled down to finish the movie as more action ensued, lighting the screen up with more explosions, escapes and elegance. Draco figured it was all much more impressive if one could actually hear the movie, besides just watching it, but still it had been fun.

The end of the movie showed lots of names against a black screen and Potter wrote on his hand asking if it was the end. Draco thought it was and described the screen. Potter sat up, pushed some buttons on the DVD player and pulled out the small disc.

"Hey, did you know there are three of those?" Draco asked. Potter gave him an inquisitive expression.

"Yeah, this is the first and I think there are two more after it. They have the same title any way." In answer, Potter felt around the DVD boxes, handing them to Draco until he read off all the names and they found the other two.

"Want to watch them?" Draco asked excitedly. So maybe the movies were more fun than he would actually admit. Potter shrugged and nodded and Draco handed him the sequel.

Hours passed as they either watched or listened to the movie on the TV. They held more conversations debating over the attractiveness of the actors and actresses, Draco making Potter guess all the physical features. There was laughter, side comments, and a few breaks for the loo. Once Potter dozed off and Draco forced him to wake up and keep watching the movie.

Eventually, sleep must have won them over.

Draco never remembered turning the TV off, but thought perhaps Potter had done it. In fact, opening his eyes, he couldn't remember much. He vaguely saw something black before him - black, like black hair. Draco blinked and opened his eyes wider.

Black hair against a pillow.

He glanced down. They were still lying on the floor, and he had to guess it was morning because he usually slept straight through the night. They must have fallen asleep during the third movie. No sheets over them, just two blokes lying on the floor, on their mat of blankets, cushions, and pillows.

Potter was lying next to him, curled up with his knees barely brushing Draco's side, who was still lying on his stomach. Potter's head was tilted towards Draco, but his eyes were closed and his breathing easy and consistent. Draco yawned and shook his head, lying still for a moment as he usually did upon waking up. His eyes glanced black hair again and for a brief moment he smiled sleepily, catching the stark contrast of his white-blond hair falling against the black mess underneath.

Strange how different, how opposite, they were.

But maybe they were a lot more similar than it seemed at first. Draco sighed and point blank refused to venture into that philosophical journey. He didn't want to delve into the inner depths of Potter and Malfoy. It was better left alone.

Potter shifted in his sleep, rubbing his head against his pillow and stretching out a hand. Said hand landed on Draco's back and he stilled himself underneath the touch, waiting to see if Potter was waking up. A strange sensation swept over him with the hand resting so comfortably against him in Potter's sleep. It didn't feel wrong, nor did it feel possessive, but it didn't exactly feel right. Potter certainly didn't go around slinging his arms around people. Neither did Draco.

Then the hand was gone and Potter was moving, rolling over onto his other side, turning his back to Draco but now even closer to him. Then Draco remembered Potter's knack for sleeping in much later than himself. The blond contemplated getting up. He really did. His mind was telling his legs to stand up, but nothing was happening.

Instead, Draco turned slightly onto his side and watched his hand rise to the back of Potter's head. Watching in awe, Draco saw his own pale hand fingering the coarse black strands of hair, careful not to rouse Potter. It was a strange sensation, touching the other man's hair. He fought against the temptation to do any more touching, and finally forced his stubborn body to obey him.

He was on his feet in moments, ignoring whatever had just happened. Nothing had happened. He just felt Potter's hair. He was curious. Everyone had hair. Everyone's was different. Potter's certainly wasn't soft and smooth like Draco's, even on his shaggiest of days. He had just been curious, that was all.

Long after breakfast, the brunet finally clambered up from the floor, looking sheepish and drowsy. He promptly disappeared into the shower while Draco began putting away all their blankets and the pillows, rearranging the furniture in the sitting room and trying his best to get everything back to its exact space.

Potter emerged from the loo and Draco watched the steam dissipate behind him.

"I put the furniture back but it might not be exactly right. Just to warn you," Draco called out. Potter paused but then nodded and continued to his wardrobe to finish dressing.

Draco tried to ignore it, he honestly did. But he had no success. Potter had forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the loo as he usually did. His walk across the room was more interesting than ever as he sported nothing but his towel around his waist.

Draco noticed with only a short glance the few scars that ran along Potter's front, catching briefly the lingering drops of water rolling over them. Damp hair fell askew, just as mismatched as his dry hair, releasing long drips down his back. A long, wide scar marked his skin along his shoulder blade. He wasn't a bulky, muscular wizard, but his small frame did hold power. No doubt his Auror work had developed some nicely toned muscles along his arms and legs. His middle was still rather normal looking, nothing spectacular to boast of, per se.

Then again, Draco wasn't exactly Mr Gorgeous himself. He had his own scars, including the faint marks left behind from his current flat mate years ago at school. He lightly brushed his fingers along his shirt, feeling the smooth scarred flesh underneath. Draco had muscles too, but he had worked hard for them. Nothing too large, but certainly enough to show off, if he cared to.

Smacking himself, Draco shook the topic off and started picking at his fingernails, ignoring the wizard dressing across the room.

Vibration in his feet.

Draco looked up at Potter who was facing him, waiting expectantly but wearing a T-shirt to match the towel. He must have heard Draco hit himself. He forgot that such motions made noise.

"It was nothing..." Draco muttered, then returned to his fingernails.

..:..

The movies had been a hit and kept the two wizards occupied for several days. When they did happen to tire of them, there were always books to read. And of course, the book shelf and the stack of DVDs both had a funny way of magically replenishing themselves.

Draco considered living in a magically-replenishing estate for the rest of his life. It would, of course, have to be much more substantial, and preferably not come with a mad, blind, egotistical, spoiled Hero and former nemesis.

Speaking of which, said Hero was currently destroying his wardrobe, looking for something.

Looking.

All right, he wasn't looking, but he really was. It was how Potter 'looked' now, and somehow it was starting to make sense. He felt things and pushed objects and brushed against furniture and reached out for arms or whatnot, because it was seeing for him. But there was nothing Draco could do to make up for hearing.

Then his ears decided to play tricks on him.

Weeks of deafness, weeks of no noise, no voices, no music or sounds and suddenly, his ears were buzzing very hollowly.

Draco stared at the floor and concentrated on breathing and listening. It was most peculiar to hear anything at all, so he wasn't quite sure that he was hearing. He closed his eyes, willing everything to stop and take notice of the sound, that small buzzing sound.

Potter was apparently oblivious and Draco sat for perhaps half an hour listening to the buzzing until he came to the conclusion that although he liked the sensation of hearing, such constant buzzing quickly became annoying and headache-producing.

He tried stopping up his ears, shaking his head, and clearing his throat, but nothing changed.

Springing up from the sofa, he headed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, moving potions around until he found one he had been instructed to take upon experiencing any changes in his hearing. He drank the entire contents and stood, holding onto the refrigerator and listening to buzzing.

Then he felt something brush along his back and a shoulder melded against his. Draco involuntarily grunted and turned, finding Potter standing awkwardly next to him. Draco nodded, waiting for the wizard to say something before mentally ridiculing himself for having such an expectation. Draco wouldn't hear him if he did say anything, and Potter couldn't see the nod or expectant expression.

"Yes?" Draco sneered snottily, not bothering to control his moody response to the buzzing headache.

Potter grabbed at Draco's hand and began writing. Speaking, it was supposed to be. Maybe some day Draco's ears would permit more than buzzing and then they actually could speak.

You okay?

"Yes, fine Potter, thanks for your concern," he bit the words out. Potter scowled and let his hands\ fall, backing away from Draco who didn't even waste an eye-roll on the insufferable noble prat.

The buzzing was still going on strong the next time Draco met with his designated Healer. She seemed interested in the new development and not quite so resigned to imminent failure as Professor Creyson had been with Potter. At least, that was the impression Draco had received from Potter.

She instructed Draco to continue taking the blue potion he had taken when the buzzing first started, in addition to the green potion he had also been using. She said it would continue to replenish in the refrigerator and the blue potion should be taken five times a day.

That was all well and great, except she had conveniently forgotten to provide a remedy for the new accompanying headache.

If anyone could endure constant buzzing in their ears without developing a migraine, Draco would consider it a super power. Nonetheless he continued on with his prescribed potions, diligently and mostly without complaints. He tried complaining a few times to Potter, who seemed to understand, and was great when he wanted someone to listen, but pretty worthless for actual conversation.

Not Potter's fault, but then nothing ever was.

Then, things took a strange change as they were reading one day. The general idea had been to read until lunch arrived, and then eat together while watching a movie. The flat had graciously provided them with five new movies that day, and admittedly, the characters shown on the front were easy on the eyes.

"nch."

Draco's voice caught in his throat and the room stood still.

He turned to peer at Potter who was also sitting still, head tilted in anticipation from Draco's abrupt silence.

"Did you say something?" Draco inquired.

"Diyo erme"

"What?" Draco felt himself gawking, eyes wide, searching Potter's face as he listened, watching lips moves.

"Diyuer me?"

Blast that buzzing; it was obscuring whatever noise was leaking through into his inefficient ears.

"Canu ear?"

"Potter, what are you saying?" Draco shouted frantically. Potter's face was immediately stricken, uncertain.

When Potter's lips moved again, Draco heard nothing but buzzing.

They tried testing Draco's hearing again and again throughout the entire day, but all that remained was the buzzing. Strangely enough, two days later when Draco awoke and the buzzing was absent, along with all other noise, he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it.

And yet, strange syllables of nonsense continued to play over his mind, in his internal ear, taunting him with fresh snatches of Potter's voice and memories of days gone by, comparing, matching, and straining for more.

He had heard something. Perhaps it had merely been Potter's voice...

But it had been music to his deaf ears.

And one more thing he could never admit...