Harry Woke Up

Although the program had begun as an indefinite stay theoretically lasting two-weeks, in reality Harry and Malfoy had been stuck in their flat for two months already. The truth was, a two-week duration had been extremely hopefully and optimistic on the Healers' parts, or A.H.S. himself, whomever it was that was really running the program.

All hopes had been set on a quick remedy. False hopes.

Throughout the chats Harry had managed with the Healers recently, he assimilated the vague lack of achievement most of the staff at the facility were feeling for Harry and Malfoy. That was a curious notion, however, since Harry considered the recent, albeit temporary, moments of sight and hearing they had experienced to be considerably promising.

However, Healer Divitz had made it clear, at one point, that this progress had been expected within the first two weeks, and the time delay was causing doubts to spread among those in charge of their healing.

So it had been two months and finally Harry and Malfoy were scheduled to meet about their desires to continue or discontinue the program. Divitz had indicated that Harry should consider whether continuing would be beneficial or even desirous to him.

Clearly, she had never suddenly gone blind or deaf.

It wasn't really much of a question. He had experienced a day with vision, and he wanted such days and moments back. What was bothering Harry most, however, was just how long he was expected to go on living with deaf Draco Malfoy while the Healers continued their experimentation. He could endure endless potions and spells, at least he thought he could, so long as there was hope for his vision.

But he wasn't sure he could endure endless Draco Malfoy.

Was it worth the price? He supposed that was the real question. In the end, he spent most of the night mulling over the options, knowing he had to provide some kind of response in the morning. He and Malfoy weren't discussing their thoughts by mutual neglect of it, and Harry, for one, was glad of it.

He didn't necessarily like being in the program, and he certainly didn't like living in the flat with Malfoy. He did want out, and he was eager to live with people whom he could actually communicate with, but at the same time, deciding to leave the program meant he had to accept a lifetime of blindness after only two months of experimental magic. Of course, he might have to accept that anyway, but if he stayed in the program, he at least still had hope.

But agree to more time living with Malfoy? The idea rattled his brain.

This was Malfoy! Sure, people changed, and yes, Harry had listened to Hermione's lectures on second chances and Dumbledore's example and the value of forgiveness. And, to his own credit, he even realised that Malfoy wasn't exactly the same boy he knew at Hogwarts.

But then again, he was.

Malfoy was not nice, nor forgiving, nor even a pleasant person to be around. Sure, they had companionship and they tolerated each other. At least, they had done so relatively well since Harry had blacked out and scared them both out of their minds. And sure, Malfoy had appeared to show care for Harry, helping him when he was sick. Of course, they had spent hours reading together or watching movies. They could, by some eyes, be seen as friends.

But only to a blind person.

They weren't friends. Harry couldn't be friends with Malfoy because... Malfoy was Malfoy! Whatever this façade of toleration and amicability was, it couldn't be anything more than a temporary lack of hostility that would, no doubt, somehow benefit Malfoy.

He was a Slytherin. He only played to win, and he only worked to gain something.

And, as far as Harry could tell, neither of them would complain about the prospect of finally being freed from one another. But knowing that still didn't help him decide what to do about continuing or discontinuing the program. He still clung to all hope that his vision would return, especially after gaining those few sighted memories of tables, chairs, and blond hair. He could almost feel it, as though he only needed one more turn around the corner to finally have his eyesight back permanently. Just that little bit further. That alone seemed more than enough reason to continue the program, no questions asked.

The only reason he could find for discontinuing the program was escape from Malfoy, and somehow, when he formed that into words, it sounded rather lame.

"Wake up, Potter. Ten minutes until Creyson gets here."

Harry tilted his head, giving his attention to the drawling voice. It was silent. With a sigh and a shove of the covers, Harry was out of bed and preparing himself for a meeting to discuss a decision he wasn't sure he could put his whole heart behind.

..:..

"Mr Potter, I truly believe that with continued therapy and experimentation, it is possible that your sight will yet return, and on a more permanent basis this time. However, I do want to be honest with you. While the progress we have seen in the last month has left us feeling hopeful, the fact of the matter is, those moments of vision were extremely temporary, temperamental, and singular in fashion. We've not yet achieved any such reoccurrence, and that fact is a little disheartening."

Harry nodded, unsure of what to say, and tried to fix an expectant look on his face.

"The potions, draughts, and spellwork used in our experimentation thus far have yielded some results that leave us feeling optimistic, but not overly so. The program initially designed for yourself and Mr Malfoy was constructed with intentions to have your senses returned within two weeks. I'm sure you've noticed that this consultation was delayed. The promised two-week meeting was pushed to four weeks, and eventually now to eight weeks. Each week I was hoping to achieve something a little more substantial than one day's moments of fading vision.

"In all fairness, I want you to consider as a realistic outcome, that this kind of magic might be found incurable. Your chances for having your vision returned to you after this two-month mark significantly decrease. However, I haven't lost hope yet, and I don't want you to either."

Harry listened intently as Creyson went on to detail the experimental therapy he wanted to try next. There were more potions, and some spells Healer Divitz had been practising and developing. Also he wanted to try memory association, and he even suggested the use of Legilimens to draw out images to prod Harry's mental receptors. There stilled seemed many options left to try, given that the magic could have affected one of several different pieces of the puzzle, or, of course, all such pieces could be damaged beyond repair.

But Harry didn't want to think about that.

"While continuing with experimentation, we would also like to begin simultaneously providing Independent Living Training which will prepare you for your life after leaving us, should the unforeseen case of incurable blindness occur. If you agree to remain in the program at this time, we will meet again after one month to discuss your continuing or discontinuing again. You will learn the skills you will need to live on your own, accomplish every day tasks, and work magic and spells should the possibility of any lingering disadvantage become a reality. Our facility has not only worked in experimental Healings but, as we've mentioned, therapy. Our Healers are all trained in Aiding Spells that have been developed, refined, and maintained specifically for those who find themselves at a loss in some way.

"Anyhow, I've spoken for quite long enough, Mr Potter. Do you have questions or concerns? What have you thought about continuing in our program? What say you?"

It was overwhelming, but none of it really surprising.

"I want my sight back, but I realise you can't really promise me that. I'd like to hope that maybe one more month will provide the answers..." Harry sighed, unsure of where to go with his thoughts.

"I also think learning the Independent Living skills sounds smart. If I... If my sight can't be repaired, then I have a lot of questions about how to live blind. How do I read my mail and how do I cook? How does it affect my magic and what happens when I need to find something in my kitchen but there's no one there to help me see what I'm looking for?

"So, what I think I'm saying is... I want to continue for another month." It was, and would always be, hard to give up on the idea of ever seeing again. What if it only took one more month of experimental Healing, but what if he chose not to continue that month and live with a blindness that could have been Healed?

"I know this is hard, Mr Potter. I can assure you we will always remain honest with you concerning your results. Also, with the prospect of your time here extending for a long period, we will begin allowing weekly visits by friends and family, something that I admit we were rather stringent about previously. A particular friend of yours has made herself very vocal concerning this issue." Professor Creyson sounded both amused and impressed.

An image of bushy hair and fiery brown eyes flashed in Harry's mind and he grinned.

"One last thing. I would like to discuss with you your needs after your eventual termination of the program. Even with continued stay, we would like to begin helping in anyway we can. Our program offers free assistance in finding patients homes, jobs, or further education. Have you thought of what your plans are, so we can begin looking for assistance for you?"

"Er, well, I do think my friends will take me in, so I don't reckon I need help with finding a place to stay or anything."

"Well, I'd like you to keep this service in mind and we can discuss it as we meet for progress reports. So, you'll be staying in the program for another month, at which point we will meet to discuss this again. In the mean time, you will continue with the potions, and begin new experimental Healing spellwork. We'll start you on your Independent Living education, and our bi-weekly examinations will continue. Is there anything else you'd like to discuss, or any questions you have?"

"Yes. Is there any chance of me changing roommates?"

..:..

Harry sighed, picking at his trousers as he sat waiting on the sofa for Malfoy to return from his consultation. He wondered if Malfoy was going to continue or if he'd had enough and would call it quits.

Would this be his last day spent living with Malfoy?

A twinge of uncertainty passed through Harry's thoughts, then it faded into curious nothingness. Living alone, surely, would be better than being with Malfoy, but for a brief moment he questioned how sure he could be of this.

Then Harry remembered Malfoy's very strong-willed desire to have his hearing returned to him at any cost, and he knew in his gut that Malfoy had no intention of cutting the therapy short, so long as there was hope.

The door burst open and closed not long after, interrupting Harry's thoughts. Footsteps padded across the room and then the voice spoke.

"I'm back."

The presence of Malfoy falling into the sofa warmed Harry's side and he felt an arm resting against his, stilling his fidgeting fingers.

"Guess that was my one moment of freedom. Too bad I only visited one little poorly decorated office." Malfoy was indulging in lazy pessimism as Harry moved to write against his palm.

Professor Creyson?

"Yeah, he's head of Healing for both of us, I've just never had to pay him a visit." It was quiet for a moment and Harry suddenly felt even more fidgety as he considered the questions he wanted to ask.

Changes in your ears?

"No. They just want to keep trying," Malfoy sighed. "Look, maybe we can talk about this later. I just want to get a shower and clean up a bit."

Harry felt colder as Draco and his warmth left him. It wasn't until that moment that Malfoy's moodiness became clear to Harry. He knew the man had a tendency to be moody, though he was still learning those moods. The sigh, however, and the pained way he spoke about wanting to avoid the topic all pointed towards a rather melancholy displeasure. He wondered if Malfoy was upset because Harry was still there, continuing the program.

Maybe the blond had been hoping Harry would give up, leave the program, and let Malfoy be. Harry wasn't sure what else could be bothering him. Perhaps they had mentioned the Independent Living education to him, too. Harry grinned, thinking of the retorts that no doubt ran through Malfoy's mind.

Harry heard the door to the loo click shut, and then wondered if he should have tried to work harder to get Malfoy to talk, to show that he was interested. But that sounded strangely like showing concern, like showing comfort for whatever was bothering the other man.

And that was a little odd.

Some time later, they were both in the sitting room again, but each involved in their own pursuits.

Malfoy was sitting in one of the armchairs, reading over a chapter from the book they had finished together, looking for some kind of notes and absolutely refusing to help Harry in his endeavour to organise their DVDs properly.

The whole task would have been so much easier if only the prat on the chair had offered to use his effortless eyesight to tell Harry whether he had the right DVD matched up for the right box. But of course such a trivial thing as placing DVDs in their correct places so the blind man didn't have to listen to them every time to figure out if he has the right one - well, such a thing couldn't bother Malfoy.

Harry cast a scowl behind him, certain that Malfoy had probably missed it in his absorption in the book. Pushing a button on the machine in front of him, Harry took the disc that slid out and opened the box in his hand. He couldn't see the front but he had memorised some of the boxes from the little minute characteristic differences from others. For example, the plastic lining on the outside of this box had a small tear in it. Another one of the cases had a chip on the clasp on its edge. A few of them had different kinds of clasps while others just had plain plastic wrappers. Whichever ones Harry couldn't decipher would have to be left on the coffee table until Malfoy found it in his heart to organise them.

Heart.

Malfoy, finding anything in his heart. Harry chuckled an unheard laugh, then turned his head sharply as he heard a noise.

The door, opening.

"Mr Potter, someone is here to see you." It was Healer Divitz, and he heard footsteps other than hers, and then the door to the flat closed.

"Harry!"

It was Hermione and she sounded cheerful. Harry smiled, rose from his position on the floor in front of the TV and began his counted steps toward her voice. In the distance to his left he heard shifting and a cleared throat. A book closed.

Then Hermione's arms were around him, but something felt absolutely strange. Harry froze, standing still and disoriented with his arms around Hermione's back but his body rigid.

"Harry?" She was concerned now.

"Harry?" His name was echoed by Ron who was now clapping a hand on his back. Harry's smile gained strength as he realised Ron was with Hermione.

"What's wrong?" Hermione's hands were on his shoulders, holding him a bit in front of her and Harry was sure if his eyes could see they would find a concerned and questioning gaze staring him straight in the face.

"N-nothing. But... " He felt awkward, uncertain. He didn't know how to say what he was thinking. That was a strange feeling. Days and weeks and months he spent with Malfoy, unable to be heard but having loads to say. And at this very moment, he couldn't find anything at all to say, despite the ability for it to be heard.

"What's got you, mate? I thought you'd be excited to see us?" Ron asked, his voice belying concern and confusion, but not hurt.

"No, no, I am," Harry recovered, still working at smiling and pulling an arm around Ron. He accidentally pulled a bit too much and felt his head collide with Ron's who let out a bellow of laughter and held him instead by the arm. Hermione had a hand rested along his other forearm.

"Harry, you were never any good at lying to me," she said. Harry imagined her furrowed eyebrows.

"Well, see, it's just..." Harry shifted.

"Come on!" Ron pushed humorously.

"Hermione," Harry turned his body toward her warm presence and soft voice. "Er... something's different about you..." It wasn't exactly what he had been thinking but it was the politest way to open the topic. To his surprise, Hermione let out a silly laugh.

"Harry! You may be blind but you don't miss a thing!" And she apparently thought this was really funny and began giggling. It wasn't common for Hermione to giggle, but when it did happen, it was usually a wonderfully peaceful and happy moment.

"Harry... we're... we're pregnant!" Hermione giggled again, clearly elated and enjoying the moment of awkwardness since there were so few of those between the three of them. Harry grinned stupidly and imagined the slight blush he knew must be colouring Ron's cheeks. The blush had been there the last two times such words had been confessed to Harry, and yet along with the flush there had always been a look of pride to accompany it.

Hermione was hugging Harry again and he felt her protruding belly more carefully now, flush against him. It was different hugging her with a belly he hadn't been used to. He hadn't noticed anything different the last time he had hugged her and figured she must be just starting to show.

"Congratulations!" Harry told them, grinning still and pulling Ron close to him again. A flash of sadness rushed inside him, there but gone again. In this moment he wanted nothing more than to see the look on Ron's face, to exchange knowing glances and to gaze at the glow Hermione always displayed on her features when she thought of their family and children.

He missed his sight more than he could confess to anyone. And that made him feel weak and pitiful. He should be stronger. He shouldn't get sad or upset over the absent vision. He was tough and a fighter; he persevered and worked hard and never gave up on life. There was always an unspoken expectation living and swirling and growing thick around Harry, the expectation that he should be fine, he should have no problems. He could do no wrong and he wasn't allowed to be upset over something so petty.

But he was. And no one could understand.

Harry fixed the smile back on his face and moved with Ron and Hermione back to his bed. They were talking as they normally did these days - Ron telling stories and Hermione interrupting and correcting, until Ron decided he could break in. They talked about their two boys, Nicholas and Oliver, and mentioned the new stores Fred and George were opening up. Hermione hinted around asking Harry what he wanted to do after this but that left them stuck on the topic of the duration of the program.

Hermione was unhappy, at first, about Harry's decision to stay longer, but eventually conceded that if it were her only hope to regain vision, she'd probably do the same. Ron, the loyal friend as always, didn't question Harry's choice, but supported whatever he thought was best. It was odd how each of their tendencies were needed in different moments. Sometimes, Harry needed checked and corrected. Sometimes he just needed that unquestioning support. Yet both responses, in their own way, confirmed his friends' enduring devotion and loyalty.

It was after that conversation that Ron, complete with nudging elbow and a playful tease, informed Harry that Ginny was waiting to see him, as well. The Healers allowed no more than two visitors in at a time, so she was waiting ever so impatiently, just outside. Harry didn't miss Hermione's note of disapproval over the Healer's 'precautions' and 'rules'.

Then Hermione and Ron both made clear their intentions to allow Harry to stay with them at their home whenever he did finish the program. Ron was certain Harry would have offers not only to stay with he and Hermione, but also with his mum and dad, with George, and even with Ginny. Naturally, an accompanying smirk had lingered in Ron's voice with the mention of his baby sister. Harry was certain he'd heard Ron grunt in response to an elbow from Hermione.

Finally, it seemed as though their time was drawing to an end.

"Well, we'll get Ginny and then we have to go pick up the boys!" Ron clapped Harry on the back and stood, leaving the place next to Harry suddenly lacking warmth.

Hermione stood next and Harry followed, suddenly anxious about his posture when Ginny approached.

"I've missed you, Harry," Hemione said quietly, taking his arm as they walked across the room toward the door. Harry smiled a sad, missing smile too.

"I think maybe they'll let us come visit again next week," Ron called back over his shoulder to Harry. "I don't understand all this once a week stuff. I lived with you for years and now I have to schedule times to visit. Rubbish, it is."

Harry laughed. "Not much longer, I just... don't want to give up yet."

"We know," Hermione answered next to him, and he really thought she did know, even if she didn't understand.

The door opened and goodbyes echoed along with feet behind them and then soft steps were coming back through the doorway and another click signalled the door's close.

"Harry!" Ginny's voice was soft but happy and also heavy with the weight of expectation, of hope and longing. Harry found himself inexplicably silent but the quietness filled instead with a warm embrace as Ginny's arms curled around his shoulders and neck and her body was against his, recalling dozens of memories scattered throughout the years of his life.

The flowery smell was circling them and Harry still had no idea where exactly the scent came from.

Soft hair danced against his face, and she was holding on to him tightly in that familiar way she always had of doing so.

"I, I was worried," she said low and gently against his ear. Harry swallowed, moving one of his arms he had wrapped around her.

"There was nothing to worry about," Harry replied quietly. "I've just been here."

"I know but... After you left St Mungo's and no one could find you and... I just missed you and we couldn't find you and then we couldn't get in to see you..." Ginny sighed and pulled back from Harry, still holding on to him but probably gazing into his face now for an expression or reaction. Harry faltered. He didn't know what kind of expression he should have.

Ginny's hand pressed against his face, sliding along the skin as they stood in silence, Harry listening to her movements, feeling her touch, Ginny probably watching him and thinking something, something she wasn't saying.

"H-How have you been?" Harry asked, desiring something to fill the air around them.

"Fine," she responded and Harry thought he felt her body relax a little. "Fine, just... you know living day to day. I'm almost finished with my Healer training and mediwitch courses. Everything's just the same with me. But what about you? And this... flat?" Ginny paused briefly and Harry wondered if she was looking around. "And... er... Malfoy?"

Harry let out an amused breath and pulled away from Ginny.

"There's not much to say. I've been here taking potions and seeing Healers. Hermione's probably told you. And, well the flat's all right. It's pretty magical, gives us whatever we need. And Malfoy... well, he's a git, but hasn't he always been?" Harry was smiling and chuckling slightly and he heard Ginny's small laugh echo.

"Hermione told me a bit but... I mean, how are you really, Harry? It must be hard, not seeing. Living here. Being away from everyone. Living with Malfoy of all people." Harry noted the contempt in Ginny's voice as she spoke the name, and although he couldn't blame her, he still felt a weird jolt in his stomach.

"I... I'm fine, Ginny," Harry lied. He wondered if she sensed his slight tenseness or the lie in his words as she kept silent for a moment, her only response consisting of a renewed petting of her fingers against his cheek.

"I... " Ginny began, but stopped and took a breath. Harry wanted to say something. He was forming words in his mind but they weren't stringing together and instead he concentrated on her hand against his face and one arm still resting along his shoulder. He imagined her expression and the brightness of her red hair. And somewhere on the edge of his mind, he even saw the vague blur of blond from an unseen onlooker, a roommate watching if he so desired but unable to hear.

"You, er, want to see my bedroom?" Harry asked, searching for something to say to alter the feeling in the air and fill the silence between them. Only as an afterthought did he actually think about his words.

"Sure," Ginny chuckled. He wondered if it was his offer she found amusing or the idea of looking at a room that was clearly visible from where they stood. At least, Harry thought it had to be clearly visible because there were no walls but then again, for all he knew, dark blue hazes could be hanging between rooms to block viewing but allow people to pass through. Or magical fairies could guard the rooms and lock them down with unseeable spells.

Harry was so lost in such ploys that he almost forgot to take Ginny over to his bed, but he did finally remember and he counted their steps until they were sitting where he had sat with Ron and Hermione before.

They made attempts at light and easy conversation. Ginny told Harry about some of her friends in training and she also described some of the antics of her nephews. Later they delved into the love lives of Fred and George, one of which was full and blooming, the other rather dull and non-existent. Ginny had forced Harry to guess which was which, naturally.

While he was enjoying the conversation, the inevitable subject came, just as it had with Ron and Hermione.

"What do you plan on doing when you get out of here?" Ginny asked casually.

"It's not a cage, Ginny. I can leave when I decide to. But I don't know what I'll do..."

"I didn't mean it like that. Do you think you'll go back to stay with Lupin?" Harry wondered why these questions always had to come up when he had no real answers to them.

"I don't know. I'm not sure how they'll feel about having a blind bloke around."

He realised that he had stated this on the assumption that he would never get his sight back. Such an assumption bothered him. He was staying in the program because he believed they'd return his sight, and it was time to start acting like it. In his defence, that was a little difficult to do while currently living as a blind man.

"Harry, it's your place. And they wouldn't care!"

"I gave it to them to live in, and I'm not going to go forcing my way just because of some title saying the house is mine. It's not fair to them and besides, if I leave here blind, the place will be far too big for me. It would take a month to remember my way around. And how do you know they wouldn't mind? How do you know what living with a blind person is like?" Harry wasn't sure why he was feeling the small doses of hostility inside but something told him he wasn't being very good about hiding it.

"Well, I don't know what it's like, but what difference does it make? Besides, the idea is that they'll give you your sight back, right?" Ginny was obviously making great efforts not to return hostility.

"That's what they hope, but it's no guarantee," Harry sighed.

"So why continue?" Ginny immediately returned.

"Because! Because... I don't... Because, Ginny. I want to see and this is the only hope I have..." Harry frowned and rubbed his forehead. Ginny allowed him a moment of silence and then Harry felt hands that weren't his rubbing along his arms and slowly creeping up his shoulders, neck, and to his face.

Warmth grew near to him, then pressure against his forehead and he moved his hand away, feeling his fingers trail through hair. Ginny's forehead was against his own and her voice was soft and easy.

"You can come stay with me, whenever you decide to leave here. I miss you, Harry."

No response sprang to his mind or his lips. Tentatively his hands trailed around her form until he found her arms, thinking it was a safe place to rest his grip. Then, without further ado, without warning or signal, Harry felt pressure against his lips. Soft, tender skin melding against his mouth. Hands cradled his face and a warm body was pressed against him and he felt overwhelmed.

His mind and body and heart were all spinning. He was out of control yet he tried to take in all the sensations flooding him. His ears seemed to have gone deaf or else filled with too much to register anything distinct. He struggled to comprehend it.

A kiss. Kissing.

Arms around him, holding him, leaning on him.

"Harry," Ginny whispered against his mouth, "I still love you."

The words rang in his ears and she pressed her lips along his mouth and jaw and face, then drew back and held herself against him. Still the words were there, drowning out the deafness in his ears. Harry held her loosely in his arms and his skin was tingling and everything felt like a tidal wave crashing upon him. Then another, and another.

He might drown.

Harry felt his eyes roving around in their sockets but it was not for sight. He couldn't make sense of the waves and he couldn't find up from down. It was all so strange and deciphering what he wanted in that moment seemed an impossible task.

Somewhere in the distance he heard a throat clear and clothing shift. Feet walked along the floor but it was all too much to take in as he worked to master himself and the strange feeling of overwhelmed senses.

Something didn't feel right.