What The Eyes Cannot See

Chapter 1

Across the great hall, Harry threw a feeble glance towards where Hermione sat, hopelessness overpowering him as he took in the image of Malfoy and Hermione together at the Slytherin's table. 'Why did it have to be him?' Harry thought. 'Professor Dumbledore, out of all the eligible people who were up for the job, had to select this one person in particular, the one person who happens to have a very strong distaste for anything – any one - related to "mudbloods".'

His train of thought was interrupted by Ron, who apparently replied to a question that Harry did not realize he had voiced.

"Dumbledore always has his reasons for the things he does."

Ron, as with Harry, had been greatly influenced by this change in Hermione. Ron seemed more moody, more solemn.

"Couldn't he have picked a girl, though?"

Hermione sat, picking at her food, not knowing whether she should be comforted by the presence of the being next to her. In the beginning, she would glance around helplessly, hoping for some sight, some color, some familiarity. None came. She realized that the only security she would achieve would come through her guide. That was what he was called: her guide.

Day by day, she was led by this warm hand of an unknown stranger, gently leading her to class after class. She listened to teachers' lectures, unable to experience the visual effects of transfiguration or potions. Striving to learn all she could, she indulged herself in the study sessions especially set up for her. During these, she would listen to the classes with detailed descriptions of the courses. Frustration burned in Hermione when she couldn't bring up an image of the portrayal, but she was encouraged to try even harder.

"Look harder," he would coach, his voice soothing and lilting. "Dig deeper ... to find the true images."

Hermione found it hard not to obey the commands of Draco's voice. She related names to voices, whereas before she would do so with faces. Would she ever really get to know a person? With just the amount of information she can pick up about people with her limited abilities, will her memory come back? Did she have friends? Enemies? Questions without answers, they were. Even when answered, she found trouble trusting the reliability of the information. Her life had become vulnerable in Draco's wrath, where, with a snap of his fingers, she could be doing three things at once, just because he told her to.

"You're not finishing your pumpkin pie?" Draco's voice inquired, sounding genuinely concerned. "I thought it was your favorite." This is stupid... I sound stupid...

Hermione gave herself a shake, embarrassed that she had zoned out for such a long time, and that Draco had noticed. "Sorry... I'm not hungry."

"Are you not feeling well? We could go somewhere else, if you'd like." Bloody hell... why am I being so nice? I guess Jasmine would have to wait...

Hermione shook her head. "We have study session next anyways."

The library was unnaturally crowded with students, and almost every eye was on Hermione. She was no fool; she could feel the burning gazes of her peers, but she said nothing. Draco continued to explain a spell that they had practiced in transfiguration, yet Hermione hardly absorbed any of it.

"...just snap your wrist, say the spell, and you're done. You have turned a

Shit.

They sat for minutes on the floor in the darkness of a deserted classroom, not saying anything in particular. Each one would utter the occasional remark about the weather, but nothing of importance was discussed. Hermione, nervous from the tension, began to cry.

Draco has never been in the presence of a weeping girl, so when faced with Hermione, he was unaided.

Draco did the only thing that came to his mind, and that was to put his arms around her, embracing her in a tight hug.

"It's so dark," Hermione whimpered, leaving Draco, yet again, speechless. He knew of nothing that could comfort her, for he himself had never really experienced total darkness. He wondered how that would feel like, and shuddered inwardly.

"I hate this, Draco, I i hate i it," she sobbed into his robes, her cries muffled by the expensive fabric that clothed him.

He was filled with a sudden warmness from the sound of his name being pronounced with such need, such vulnerability. It certainly made him feel like a man, out in the world to protect those who suffer. She made him feel that way, though he would never admit it to anyone close to him.

"I'm never going to know anyone."

"That's not true. You know me," Draco reassured her, hoping it was the right choice of words. The Malfoys were notorious for their attitude towards women, and Draco was never taught the proper etiquette to comforting any damsels in distress.

"Yeah, but I don't i know i know you. I can only feel people, but I can't see them. I can't know anyone because I can't see."

"That's bullocks."

Surprised at his sudden objection, Hermione freed his robes of her tears and looked up... to where she hoped was his face.

"Of course you can see. Whyever would you think that you can't?"

"Um...maybe the fact that I'm temporarily blind might have something to do with it," retorted Hermione, the existence of her patience going lower and lower.

Draco was glad that Hermione was currently in a state of blindness, for otherwise she would've seen Draco roll his eyes. Isn't this girl supposed to be smart?

"Hermione, anyone can see. You're just not looking the right way. To know a person, you have to see with the heart." Draco chuckled at the puzzled expression on Hermione's face, and brought one slender hand with his calloused fist to the left side of his chest.

Surprised at the firmness beneath her fingers, Hermione felt a blush creeping up to her face, and was thankful that it was dark, assuming that it was dark, since she couldn't really see...

When he placed her hand firmly on his chest, he shuddered from the fluttering in his stomach, but mentally pushed it aside.

"Close your eyes."

TBC