Seeing
Harry groaned loudly, his head ached unbearably, it had been aching for so long now, although he had no idea exactly how long it was. The last thing he remembered was battling with some Death Eaters he didn't know, then a flash of bright blue light and then nothing.
Nothing but an aching head, sore muscles and darkness. He was surrounded by darkness, living in it very second of the day and there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it. Glasses or no glasses, he couldn't see; he couldn't see anything.
He heard the rustle of movement near where he was lying, he was in bed he knew that much at least but he didn't know who it was that was taking care of him. A woman, with a gentle voice and soft hands, that's all he had been able to work out.
At first he had been scared, he didn't know if he was in any sort of danger and he couldn't fight what he couldn't see; but the woman had calmed him, eased his fears and held his hand during his nightmares. Nightmares came thick and fast when he tried to sleep and he had only a mystery voice and a small hand to cling to.
The nightmares had taken on a new quality to the ones he used to have about Voldemort. During those nightmares he would wake up at some point, open his eyes and look around at the room he was in, peer into the dim corners and under the bed to reassure himself that Voldemort was in fact just in his imagination.
Now he couldn't do that, now he was stuck in the darkness whether he was dreaming or not. The blackness swam around his mind with his nightmares creeping up stronger and blacker than before; but opening his eyes gave him no relief as it had once done. Instead of the silvery light of the moon or the weak light of the sunshine he saw only more of the darkness. Not even a flicker of a shadow just a deep, dark, blackness that assaulted his senses and left him reeling in his own misery and despair.
"Good morning, Harry."
Harry snorted, "Is it? I'll have to take your word for it,"
He heard a soft sigh, it was a very low noise but his hearing had picked up a lot since he'd been declined his sight and he heard most things that went on. He heard her muffled mutterings as she moved around the room when she thought he was asleep. He heard her lips moving in quiet prayers for his speedy recovery and he had even caught her trying to make a trade with God to take her sight and restore his.
The idea that there was a faceless, nameless woman sitting by his bed, looking after him and caring about him so much that she was willing to make such a sacrifice for him made Harry feel guilty that he was so snappy and irritable with her. But he couldn't help it, he couldn't stop the bitterness crashing through him and settling neatly in his heart turning it slowly to stone.
Vaguely Harry wondered if that was what his eyes looked like now when he opened them. Did they look like stone? Like two hard emeralds sitting in his eye sockets staring out at the world. The idea made him feel sick, made his skin crawl and gave him the urge to scream himself hoarse in a temper tantrum as he had seen Dudley do when he was younger and couldn't have his own way.
But Harry knew that he could throw a twenty four hour temper tantrum and it wouldn't solve anything at all. He'd still be left wandering in the dark after it was over, in more ways than one. He couldn't see where he was going physically or in life, he had well and truly lost his path, his sense of direction and purpose and had been left stumbling.
"Are you hungry this morning, Harry? Would you like some toast?"
Harry sighed heavily, "Yeah sure, why not."
He heard her moving about, heard the clatter of china as he wiggled into a sitting position ruffling his hair absently as he waited for the familiar feel of the tray over his knees.
"Strawberry jam today, Harry?"
"Fine." He responded shortly. She was one of those people who was always cheerful in the mornings. It annoyed the hell out of him because it reminded him that he had used to complain when the morning came around seeing it as the start of another day full of the Dursley's, or lessons or Death Eaters.
She made him feel like an ungrateful little git. Harry had never seen the morning for what it really was, the start of a new day, the blue sky, the sun, the birds and the trees, a day stretching full and open before him bursting with opportunities.
"Do you want to take a bath after your breakfast, Harry?" She wondered setting the bed tray over his knees.
"I suppose I should." He replied his cheeks staining slightly pink at the idea. He couldn't see anything, she had to help him and it embarrassed him.
He heard her chuckle slightly, "No need to get so red in the face, Harry. I have brothers."
"Yeah, well I'm not one of them." He retorted his fingers gingerly feeling up the legs of the tray towards his plate of toast.
She clicked her tongue impatiently, "You know women wash and dress you when you're little, how a man can make out to be embarrassed in front of a woman I'll never know."
Harry snorted, "To hear you talk men just may as well go running round the place naked."
"Wouldn't bother me in the slightest." She replied pulling the curtains and opening the window. "I certainly wouldn't try it in front of McGonagall though if I were you." She added giggling.
Harry sniggered slightly lifting a slice of toast to his lips and taking a bite. She was a good cook he'd give her that, everything she placed before him tasted great and managed to perk him up a little bit. "Are you going to tell me who you are now then?" He'd asked her once or twice before but she had refused to tell him. He hadn't pushed it though, at first it was because he was too depressed to really care and afterwards he had believed her to be Luna by her positive attitude and soft, wistful tone. Now he knew she wasn't Luna and his curiosity began poking through again.
"I thought perhaps you'd like to go outside today, it's a nice day."
"Is it really?" He asked dryly, "Better go out and have a look then hadn't I?" He continued his voice dripping with sarcasm.
She sighed heavily, "Just because you can't physically see something doesn't mean you can't appreciate things."
"How would you know?" Harry demanded irritably.
"Because your sight is only one of your senses, isn't it? You can't see the food you're eating but you can still appreciate the taste of it, can't you?" She pointed out removing the tray from his knees and pulling the bedcovers from his waist. "Come on you, up you get."
Harry wiggled to the edge of the bed allowing her to take his hand and lead him over to the door. "Just a few more steps."
He hated the fact that he couldn't go anywhere on his own. He didn't know where he was or the layout of the place to even attempt to visualise the room and count his steps. Not that it really mattered, why would he even want to go anywhere on his own? He wouldn't be able to see it when he got there.
"How long have I been here?" He wondered as she placed his hands on the cold ceramic of the sink and handed him his tooth brush.
"Quite a while, a few months." She replied as he heard her running the bath. "Lavender bubble bath today?"
"Whatever. Why haven't Hermione and Ron been around?"
"They don't know where you are." She replied. "No-one knows where you are. I couldn't tell anyone could I? The Death Eaters could have found out and come after you. I couldn't risk that could I? Couldn't risk anything happening to the-boy-who-lived."
Harry scowled at the proud tone of her voice; he'd know that tone anywhere, he'd heard it too many times to count. It was the tone of faith, of trust, of the belief that he could do something to make the horrendous situation of Voldemort better. The knowledge only made Harry feel worse than he already did and he scrubbed vigorously at his teeth spitting viciously into the sink, he felt so useless and helpless having to rely on her for everything.
"You expect me to fight Voldemort when I can't even find the flaming door?" He snapped angrily.
He felt her hand touch his shoulder tentatively. "I didn't think a little thing like no sight would have you giving up. I thought you were stronger than that."
"You try it!" He spat angrily.
"Bath's ready."
Harry pulled his pyjama top over his head and wriggled out of his bottoms unable to stop the faint flush that crept into his face. He wouldn't get used to this part, undressing in front of a stranger, needing her help with something as simple as taking a bath.
"Leg up, Harry." She instructed patting his thigh, "And the other one. There you go."
He heard her splashing as she dipped a sponge in the water before soaping his back gently as she always did. She always started on his neck and shoulders and then she would go on to thoroughly scrub at his hair her fingers massaging his scalp in slow circular motions that had the ability to lull him into a comfortable doze.
Yawning widely Harry relaxed under her soothing hands letting his mind wander over the possibilities of who this woman was. She knew him, knew who his friends were and by her voice he would assume she was around his age, but he couldn't seem to place the voice with a face.
Her voice was soft and gentle, she was sweet and kind to him, helping him with everything and anything he needed. It was the muted voice that had him thinking he was in Luna's presence, she wasn't dreamy sounding like Luna, but he had thought that perhaps without seeing the serene expression and the glazed over eyes Luna wouldn't sound so dreamy.
"Were you in Griffyndor?"
"No."
"Do I know you?" He wondered swirling his fingers through the bubbles.
"No, you've never really seen me before." She replied quietly.
Harry's forehead scrunched up in thought. He couldn't figure out who this woman was. He desperately needed to know who his Guardian Angel was. That's what he had thought she was at first, when he was sliding in and out of consciousness and fighting his fever from the after effects of the curse he'd been hit with.
He had been scared when he found himself floating around in the dark, unable to find his way towards the light, unable to see where he was going or find the source of the soft voice and hands. But soon the voice had calmed him, the hands had soothed him and he had gradually begun to relax under her care. And she had been there, when he had fully woken to discover that he had lost his sight, she had done everything in her power to pull him out of his depression. She had comforted him when he had been too depressed to do anything other than cry; she had been the one to encourage him to eat and to take an interest in something other than sitting in bed staring at nothing.
"So you weren't at Hogwarts when I was there?"
"Yes I was there."
"In my year?"
"Yes." She replied using the sponge to rinse off his back. "I'll just be out in the kitchen washing up. Give me a shout when you want to get out."
"How can I shout at you? I still don't know what to shout." He told her slyly.
He heard her giggle. "Nice try, Harry. Just shout oi like you usually do." She didn't close the door, she never did but he could hear her footsteps padding away over the floor boards. He knew her steps now, firm and determined as she went about her business, her footsteps were as much a part of his daily routine as they were hers, and the smell of peaches that scented her hair from her shampoo and the faint aroma of her perfume that sifted through the air between them.
Now that he came to think about it he had smelt that perfume before, but he couldn't think on who it had been. He couldn't think who this girl was. She was in school with him, in his year but not in his house. He rolled his eyes, that really narrowed it down, didn't it? He had three other houses to choose from, how did he even start?
More to the point he wondered how to start coping with all the new feelings he was suddenly experiencing. True he was still depressed sometimes and he snapped at her for no reason other than the fact that he was still hurt and angry over the cards that life had dealt him. Hadn't he suffered enough in his life so far without losing his sight?
But when she was sitting and reading to him, when she was busy chatting away about nothing or just sitting quietly holding his hand he had started to feel warm inside again. When she spoke to him when she thought he was asleep, when she stroked his forehead and cried quietly confessing to his sleeping form of feelings she had apparently kept hidden for a long time he felt something back. Felt the urge to stop the tears, to stop her hurting and make her smile, but there was nothing he could do was there? What could he possibly do?
He frowned, the other night she had been crying and she'd been apologising to him. Why? He'd been drifting in and out of sleep and had only caught half of what she had said. "Oi! Come here will you?" He called out, he didn't like referring to her as oi, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter.
"Harry? Harry, are you ok?"
He heard her footsteps quicken as she hurried into the room. He turned his face towards the door, towards her footsteps and wondered what it felt like for her, to have his lifeless eyes staring at her.
"Yes. I want to ask you something. And get me out will you?"
"Of course." He heard the usual movement of her collecting a towel for him. "Stand." She instructed taking his elbow to make sure he didn't fall.
He felt her wrapping the towel round his waist and it made him feel a little guilty. There had been a time when he had seen himself as totally incapable as to even wrap himself in a towel. She had dragged him out of himself but sometimes she still molly-coddled him, he figured she couldn't help it and it was just instinct.
"Leg." She held him firmly as he got out of the bath. "I'll get your clothes."
"Question. Why were you apologising the other day? You thought I was sleeping. What's going on that I don't remember?" He demanded irritably. Just because he was blind didn't mean she had to keep stuff from him and treat him like a weak minded idiot did it?
She sighed softly pressing his clothes into his hands. "You should have made it known that you were awake."
"Didn't seem like you wanted me to hear it even though you were telling me. I can take it you know." He added thinking of everything else he'd had to take in his seventeen years, one more piece of information wouldn't hurt. And if it did send him over the edge what was he going to do about it? He couldn't find anything to kill himself with could he?
"It's my fault you're in this situation, Harry. I didn't want to tell them where you were, the Death Eaters I mean. But they threatened to hurt my parents, I didn't have a choice. I wouldn't have told them if I could have gotten out of it. I…. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, Harry."
He heard her voice crack at the end, heard the tears clogging her throat and he frowned. Who the hell was this girl? Had she betrayed him or had it just been pure luck on her part that she had known where he was?
"Harry, I'm so, so sorry for what I did. Believe me I didn't have a choice. I wouldn't deliberately hurt you. I really like you, always have done despite everything I've ever said and done. And I care about you now, I really do. I… I love you, Harry." She ended on a whisper.
She didn't think he had heard the last part, judging by the level of her voice he figured she was over the opposite side of the room, and if his hearing hadn't have picked up so much he doubted he would have heard her.
"I was thinking, Harry." She began crossing the room towards him and taking the damp towel from his hands. "I could be your eyes couldn't I? Through my eyes you could see again. I could find him for you, the Dark Lord. You don't need to see him to kill him do you? I could see him and guide your wand?"
She sounded eager to please, eager to make amends for giving his hiding place away to the Death Eaters. She was sorry for what she had done he could tell anyway by the sincerity in her voice, he could hear it as plain as day. "Who are you? Why don't you trust me to tell me? What can I do to you?" He questioned her quietly, regretfully now that he realised that she might not fully trust him.
"You wouldn't believe me if I tell you.".
Harry raised his hands and grouped towards her voice, he wanted to touch her, touch her face. He hadn't done it before and he doubted it would spark any form of memory but he wanted to do it anyway. Her fingers encircled his wrists and she placed his palms on either side of her face allowing his fingertips to prod and poke at her.
"Give me a name," Harry demanded.
"Pansy Parkinson," she whispered breathlessly.
His hands faltered. It couldn't be could it? But now that she had said it everything began to slot into place. He remembered the first time he had smelt her perfume, it had been in charms class and she'd been squirting herself before Filtwick arrived when some of it had gone onto him when he passed her. He had smelt like Pansy Parkinson for half the morning.
He understood now why she couldn't have told him who she was before, he wouldn't have allowed her to help him and he would ultimately have hurt himself that way. She had done what she had believed to be for the best.
Harry didn't doubt her. He hadn't doubted her when she had held his hands as he took his first weak and faltering steps. He hadn't doubted her when she had smoothed his forehead during his nightmares whispering promises that everything would be ok. He didn't doubt her feelings now either, somehow he knew what she said was the truth, that she was sorry, that she'd had no choice and he believed that she was in love with him. It showed in everything she did, the way she treated him, how patient and caring she was even when he was less than a desirable patient.
Pansy Parkinson Slytheirn pureblood had a nice, soft and sweet side to her that she had kept hidden at Hogwarts. If he had bothered to look past the icy exterior perhaps he would have seen it, seen her for who she really was.
His life was unbelievably cruel. Just when he had found someone, someone who would still care and still want him even though he was dependent upon her for so many things he had taken for granted before he would have to lose her, give her up. He wouldn't put her through it because he cared too much. He wouldn't be a burden to her, give her the chance to resent and perhaps hate him in the future. Harry decided he would much rather be alone.
Her voice broke him out of his newly depressing thoughts. "What are you thinking, Harry?"
With half a smile Harry voiced his thoughts aloud.
"That's not your decision to make!" She almost yelled at him and he had an image of her standing with her hands on her hips her face a mask of annoyance.
"Yes it is. It's my life and I won't live it being dependent on you for everything. Every morsel of food guided into my hands, every glass of water guided to my lips. You eventually resenting me for keeping you tied to me, because you wouldn't leave, but you'd find someone else, I'd know, I'd sense it. I won't go through it."
Pansy snorted irritably. "Your behaving like a child. You eat and drink perfectly well by yourself and you know it! Your blind, Harry, you're not incapable!" Pansy cried angrily.
He could hear the tears in her voice and he guessed she was crying quietly, trying not to let him know.
She gripped his hands tightly. "We can do it Harry, us together. You'll be happy, and when you are I'll laugh with you. When you get depressed and you despair my eyes will cry your tears…."
"And when I get really depressed and perhaps end up blaming you for my darkness?" Harry demanded hurtfully.
"I'll kneel and beg your forgiveness," Pansy replied quietly her hands cupping his face gently. "We'll be alright Harry, just me and you. We can work everything all out together. Even… him…. The Dark Lord. We'll fix it all together," she murmured her lips brushing against his.
"Don't!" He snapped firmly.
"Why?"
Harry didn't respond, at least not with words. He knew his body was responding to her, knew his facial expression was probably telling her a different story to his mouth.
"You can't leave me, Harry. You can't push me away. I'll never be free from you."
Before he could answer he felt her lips pressing against his, he tried to signal his disapproval by not responding but it didn't really send out the correct signals when his arms were sliding round her waist and pulling her closer to him.
He felt her smile against his lips. "I'll be here Harry, always. We'll deal with life together I promise. I love you Harry, you can learn to love me too can't you?" She wondered her tone clearly indicating that she was concerned that he wouldn't agree to her request.
Harry sighed softly running his fingers through her hair. "I'm half way there already." He admitted. As realisation slowly began to dawn on him he frowned and wondered how it was possible that he had to lose his sight to really see what was in front of him? "You were right, Pansy, I never saw you before, when I could see I was blind."