Harry Woke Up

"Healer Johnson's supposed to come by today. They're forcing me to learn to be deaf. I just don't get it," Malfoy stated as Harry took a seat on the sofa. He didn't sit so close now that they could communicate without their crude hand-writing. He knew Malfoy wasn't keen on so much close contact.

Harry pulled the bewitched quill from his pocket and set it into the air in front of him. He started to think his reply until he realised he hadn't thought to turn it on.

Is Divitz coming, too?

"I think so, maybe after Johnson, or else at the same time," Malfoy answered unconcernedly.

Did you eat breakfast already?

"Yes, you've missed it once again. Breakfast doesn't wait around for you, you know."

Yeah, I've noticed. Harry was unusually hungry this morning, though.

"Hungry much?"

I've been a lot hungrier... the war, you know. He recalled several days he had gone without anything to eat at all. Not to mention enduring such sacrifices during brutal Auror training.

Draco grew quiet and they sat for a moment in silence. Harry cast the quick spell to turn off the Thought Writer so he was free to think to himself. He was trying to be very careful about doing such things. The last thing he needed was for Malfoy to know his every thought.

"The war was tough on us all, I think."

The way Malfoy said it caught Harry by surprise. He liked to keep up his walls, put forth his snide act and sarcasm, so it was rare when he stated something so pure and real.

Turning on the Thought Writer again, Harry posed his question.

What's your story? What really happened with you, after you and Snape left Hogwarts, I mean?

Malfoy cleared his throat and Harry heard him shift along the sofa cushions.

"It's a long and not-so-pleasant tale. Are you sure you want to hear it?" he asked.

I asked, didn't I?

"Right." More shifting. "Snape and I went directly back to the Dark Lord. I knew I had failed, and as much as I didn't want Snape involved, I was also hoping his act had saved me. There aren't really second chances with the Dark Lord, you know. Just as I thought, he was furious and disappointed with me. Even Father was severely displeased. He didn't say a word when I was thrown in a dungeon, held and tortured for not doing the job properly..."

They tortured you?

"More or less. I can't say it wasn't expected. But only part of it had to do with my failure. The other part was additional punishment for my father, only I think it hurt my mum more than him. She begged and pleaded on my behalf..."

What'd they do to you?

"What didn't they do to me? It wasn't all that bad. Curciatus Curses, starvation, a practice enemy for other Death Eaters... It could have been worse. I could have been killed."

Did you still believe in the Dark Lord's side at that point?

"I didn't know what to believe. I was a failure as a Death Eater, a failure as a son, a failure as a student." Malfoy's voice was very quiet as he answered. "I sat for hours in the dungeon, seeing my life fall apart in my mind. I started questioning what exactly it was I was doing... Anyway, Mother continued to interfere and was set on redeeming me, somehow getting me back in the Dark Lord's good graces. But he grew tired of it, murdered her right in front of me...

"Father returned and was furious, not with the Dark Lord, but with me for not stopping Mother or protecting her..."

What were you supposed to do if you were locked up?! Draco was silent for a moment before continuing.

"Anyway, that was sort of my breaking point. I knew I had to escape or I'd end up just like Mother. I was as good as dead to Father, who, though he cared for me, considered the Dark Lord's will above all other things. But something my Mother had said convinced the Dark Lord to send me on another mission. It was essentially a suicide mission. I was just a body to take curses and save the real Death Eaters, in his mind. But I did the worst thing a Death Eater could do. I abandoned. I just disappeared and never showed up for the mission, never returned to the Dark Lord."

I bet he wanted to kill you...

"Yeah, but he was pretty busy trying to kill you, wasn't he? Anyway, I was on the run for a while, hiding and scavenging, trying to protect my hide and avoid both Death Eaters and their supporters, as well as Order members and their allies. It was tricky. I ended up holed up with two other Death Eaters' kids and we formed sort of a third party. We were mainly only for ourselves, but as time went on, we knew we had to help the Order if we expected anything to end.

"My mates, Nott and Yaxley, he went to Durmstrang, we tried to get into contact with Order members and pass on information. We knew a lot of secrets from the Death Eaters and their hideouts, and lucky for us, the Dark Lord considered mere students pretty worthless and not much of a threat. Most of our information was really valuable - locations, hideouts, names, back up plans... Then one day we were out scouting the Death Eaters on the move. We were seen and there was a duel. They couldn't figure out who we were - we had great disguises... But my mate, Yaxley, was killed.

"Nott and I wanted the protection that came with the Order, but even they were ending up injured and killed too. And to reveal ourselves seemed too much of a risk. Nott and I got in touch with old Professor Lupin when he was on a mission with werewolves. He was the only Order member who knew we were helping... Our cover didn't last for long when one of our rescue missions went pear-shaped. We were both exposed to Granger and she insisted on bringing us before the Order for more missions and more protection. That's the point at which you and I met up again.

"Granger worked with us a lot while you were working on the others. We started teaching Occlumens and-"

You were skilled enough in Occlumens to train people? Harry wondered incredulously.

"Part of the perks of being raised by a Death Eater... I learned a lot stuff that was never taught at Hogwarts..."

Hazy images flashed in Harry's mind depicting his time spent in the dungeons learning Occlumens at Hogwarts. He was careful not to word the memory though, so it didn't appear on the Thought Writer.

"Anyway, we were training the younger Order members in Occlumens and disguise tactics, even spy skills, search and rescue, and last ditch defence. Whatever we had learned on the run and amongst the Death Eaters, we tried to help...." He paused and Harry waited for him to continue; after an amused breath, he did.

"It's funny, you know, I was really thinking about being an Auror, how much I really wanted to do that after everything was over..."

Why didn't you? Malfoy chuckled bitterly in response.

"Are you kidding? A Death Eater applying to be an Auror?"

Ex-Death Eater who helped the Order.

"Yeah, well most people don't see that. I was denied and felt stupid for even trying. So then I found my new mates. It was an independent group that teamed up with the ministry, but for the most part it's completely unknown. Even those of us inside the group don't know its real name. Instead, we're called Unknowables. We all know what we need to know to do our part, and if I've ever met whomever knows everything about the Unknowables, then he's unknown..."

But I knew what you did. I mean, we referred to you as the 'other Aurors' but I knew...

"Well, to ministry insiders, such as Aurors who have higher clearance than your average desk job in the ministry, we're known as independent Aurors. To some, we're even called spies. And to your average Joe-wizard, we hold office jobs with a security agency."

You're kidding?

"I'm not. It was a great job. It was like being an Auror without all the politics and strings attached. Dangerous, exciting, challenging..."

Harry could tell Malfoy was thinking about his desire to return to the job, and convincing himself that they would never take him back. They were both in such a predicament, trying to find a place for themselves in the wizarding world, somewhere where a missing sense wouldn't matter. Harry would have to relearn loads of skills, such as potion making and transfiguration all without using his sight. Draco would have to learn to detect attackers without hearing them and perhaps pick up new surveillance skills suitable for a deaf wizard.

Come to think of it, Harry was pretty certain there was such a thing as lip-reading, which deaf people were supposed to be really good at. That would be an invaluable skill for any under cover agency.

Harry was about to suggest this when the door to their flat opened and in walked Healers Johnson and Divitz.

"Today is a day of languages," Healer Divitz announced. "Mr Potter, please use your Thought Writer to repeat these things to Mr Malfoy." Harry frowned at being turned into a messenger, then mentally turned the quill back on.

I'm supposed to repeat everything to you. Today is a day of languages.

"Got it."

"Mr Potter, you and I will be working on a language for the blind called Braille. This is essential for you, should you ever venture into the Muggle world. Magic will help you overcome most problems in the wizarding world, but Braille is extremely useful for you to know.

"As for Mr Malfoy, you will begin learning British Sign Language. This is a language for the deaf and will be extremely useful in the Muggle world. In your case, you can control your speech while most persons born deaf can not do so. The Sign Language will be used to hear, primarily. However, in the wizarding world, magic will remedy this issue, in most cases. One more useful skill for you will be lip-reading. Each of these skills will greatly improve your abilities in functioning as a deaf person."

Harry tried to remember all of the information and repeat it all to Malfoy. When the Healer was pleased with the exchange, they divided into their separate sides of the flat and began studying with the Healers.

Braille was tricky at first, but fairly logical. Harry easily understood the principle behind the Braille, but the difficult part was being able to recognise the dots with his fingertips. He had spent so many years of his life seeing that his sense of touch was not nearly sensitive enough yet. They struggled through a long afternoon of dots, and Healer Divitz informed Harry that she would be bringing a slate and stylus next time so he could learn to write Braille. He guessed with enough practice, and patience, he might be able to master the writing.

Malfoy was not nearly so pleased with his afternoon's proceedings.

"What do I need to learn that stuff for?" he growled as soon as the Healers had closed the doors behind them.

Just in case-

"Even if I have to be deaf for the rest of my life, I'm never going into the Muggle world. Do I look mental? I don't even like Muggles. So why do I want to learn a sign language so I can hear what they say to me? Can't people just write down what they want to say? And wizards, they could always have some kind of quill like yours, or I could get some special bewitched quill. I don't need to wave my arms around gesturing like an idiot... And as for lip-reading... It's the same thing as just getting it written down.

"And just how am I supposed to practice these skills like Healer Johnson kept insisting? I can't very well sign anything to you. You can't see it! I could read your lips except you never talk. You've got that bloody Thought Writer... These skills are asinine, that's what they are!"

Malfoy was huffing and moody, clearly put off by what he deemed an afternoon's wasted time.

"Besides, they're supposed to be healing me. I don't want to be deaf. What don't they understand about that?!"

You know, lip-reading could be useful.

"What are you on about?" he spat.

Think about it. Not all that many wizards can lip-read. They rely on magic and special devices, but those can always be countered. No, a wizard who can lip-read, I'd say he's pretty valuable, particularly to some undercover agency or even the Aurors...

"What?"

I bet you could keep working for the Unknowables if you could lip-read... Malfoy was silent and Harry thought he might really be considering it.

Anyway, just think about it.

Whether he did or not, Harry wasn't sure. That night they ate dinner together peacefully, though Malfoy remained rather moody. They agreed to watch a movie together before heading off to sleep. Harry lay in his bed with a book Healer Divitz had left with him to practice on. It was rather large with huge pages, dotted back and forth down the parchment.

Harry ran his finger along the surface, struggling to slow down and make sense of what he was feeling. Indeed, he knew it would take a lot more practice.

Morning came quickly, and Harry was surprised to check his watch and find that it was not even eight yet. He tended to be a rather late sleeper but waking up in the morning so early with so much energy, he couldn't even persuade himself to stay in bed today if he tried. He was determined to work some more on the Braille book and show Healer Divitz that he could be a fast learner.

After a shower, of course.

Standing under the flow of water, Harry found himself humming along to an old tune he remembered from the Quidditch pitch - none other than 'Weasley is our King.' He chuckled to himself, recalling all the memories attached to the song, and wondered at his inexplicably good mood. Then one of the most regretful thoughts he had yet thought hit him.

No more Quidditch.

How could he ever ride a broom again? Could a blind wizard do such a thing? Maybe in tandem, or else attached to a lead. How utterly terrible... Sure, he wasn't on a house Quidditch team but there was pick up Quidditch with Ron and their old chums, and the Aurors liked to get together for two-a-side or the likes, with however many players they could muster.

He loved playing Quidditch. He loved riding his broom.

With a sigh, Harry turned the water off and pulled the shower curtain back, determined to rid his mind of such thoughts.

And they left in haste.

A shout rang out in the bathroom, followed by the sound of the door banging, not in the doorjamb, but against the wall.

"Blimey, I didn't mean to..." Malfoy's voice screeched from across the bathroom.

Vaguely aware that something unordinary was happening and Malfoy was in the room with him, Harry stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel to sop up the water from his dripping hair.

Harry started to try and communicate through his Thought Writer, but realised it was back on his bedside table. Meanwhile, Malfoy was audibly shifting and clearing his throat.

Hoping Malfoy would get the message, Harry turned to his direction, shrugged uncaringly, and continued with his drying, only realising afterward that he was, in fact, standing in the bathroom naked and worrying about drying his hair rather than covering himself up.

Harry flew into action, whipping the towel around his waist and forgetting about his wet hair as he felt his cheeks burn and flush rapidly all of their own accord.

"I... I couldn't hear," Malfoy said in a voice slightly higher than normal. "I thought you were still asleep. I didn't mean..."

Feeling flustered and also a bit angry at his face for growing so warm, Harry waved off Malfoy's response and shuffled toward the exit. It only took a couple steps before his hands reached the wizard standing frozen in the doorway. He brushed past him in the narrow space near the door, feeling the warmth of Malfoy so close as they shifted so Harry could get by.

Then he was out of the bathroom, steadying his nervous breathing and forcing his skin to cool down to a normal, unembarrassed temperature.

The bathroom door closed and Harry thought he heard a strange thud echoing against the door, as though Malfoy had leaned back against it on the other side.

Frustrated with himself, he tried to forget the whole scene as he quickly got dressed. It wasn't that big of a deal. It was most annoying that he had stood there, oblivious, because the idea of seeing someone get out of the shower had been completely lost to him in that moment. He couldn't see Malfoy when he stepped out, nor see the expression on his face, nor even see his own body standing there, drying off in the mirror's reflection.

Just because he could no longer see, didn't make the rest of the world blind, too.