It had been four months since Draco lost his sight. He now was completely dependant on Harry; he needed him to do everything. He could hardly eat by himself; he always had trouble locating the food on his plate. Soup was slightly easier, so they have had that for dinners quite often. He was getting to the point where he could dress himself; he just needed help with picking out the clothes. He couldn't shower alone. He couldn't read. He couldn't work. He couldn't help Harry with the gardening. He got hurt easily. He was bored often. All he could do was listen and touch. Many times, he had broken down and cried in Harry's arms, cried out of eyes that couldn't see. He wanted to see Harry, imagining what he looked like wasn't enough.
In the Final Battle at Hogwarts, Harry had shot a blinding curse at a Death Eater who was torturing someone. Draco had run in front of him at the wrong time. Draco knew Harry would never forgive himself for blinding Draco. At first, Draco hated Harry for what he had done to him. He would squeeze his eyes shut, rub them, blink and blink and blink, but no matter what, he couldn't make himself see. He blamed Harry.
He knew better now. He wanted Harry as much as he needed him. Draco and Harry were married and bonded; Harry had insisted on doing it the muggle way as well. Draco was blind when both of these occasions occurred, so he didn't even get to see the ring on his finger, he had to imagine it. Harry told him it was gold, and on the inside, it had the date of their marriage, along with both their names. One time, Draco had taken the ring off to play around with it, and it had dropped and rolled under the table. Panicking, Draco dropped to his knees and searched the ground by touch. He was rescued by Harry, who found the ring mere inches away from Draco's hand, and helped the man up. Draco never took the ring off after that.
Nights were Draco's favourite. When it was dark and he and Harry were talking, he kept his eyes wide open. This way, he could pretend that it was just dark, that it wasn't his eyes at all. He told this to Harry once, and he was rewarded with kisses all over his face, a sort of reassurance, Draco guessed. Along with that, Draco always enjoyed curling up next to Harry. He usually slept with his head pillowed on Harry's shoulder, but the nights they fought, Draco slept with his back to Harry, as far away as he could get without falling off the bed. Harry always woke him up sometime around the middle of the night, apologizing and running his fingers through his hair.
The little things made Draco that much more mad for Harry. He loved it when Harry kissed his eyelids, the pulse in his throat, his collarbone. He always smiled when Harry did his hair, making it look absolutely perfect, although he couldn't see it. He sighed when Harry took his hand when they went on walks in the muggle parks that Harry liked to stroll through. Draco never wanted to go out in public because he didn't want people to see his eyes, but Harry insisted that he needed fresh air.
Sex wasn't like it used to be. The night of their muggle marriage, Harry had insisted on taking Draco to a tropical island, "Hawaii", it was called. They were on something called a "honeymoon". Draco was still confused about what it was, exactly. That night, Harry had carried Draco to his bed bridal style (Draco was fussing about being carried). He sat with him there, stroking his hair and whispering nice things in his husband's ear. He kissed him often, and slid his hand up Draco's shirt, eventually pulling this off. "Is this what you do on honeymoons?" Draco had asked. Harry had nodded, forgetting that Draco couldn't see. He had kissed his shoulder reassuringly.
Of course, they have had sex before, but it was different now that Draco couldn't see. He didn't know what to do, he had to have Harry guide him, which was embarrassing, to say the least. That night, he decided that he hated himself. Afterwards, Draco cried. He was happy, but at the same time, sad. Harry had held him, promising him that they'll have a good time tomorrow, they'll go swimming, and they'll laze in the sun.
Draco refused to carry a walking stick, so he was led around by Harry. Harry had decided to quit his job just to help his partner. It didn't matter; both of them combined had enough money to last them for the rest of their lives. All day, he took care of Draco. One time, Draco couldn't stand it and pushed Harry away, crying again. "You're more like my nurse than my husband," he said, wiping his eyes. Harry had held him, telling him that he was wrong, that he loved him more than any silly old nurse could.
Draco became more and more insecure, especially about his eyes. He always kept them down in public, embarrassed by the milky whiteness where his pupils should have been. Harry told him that his eyes were beautiful anyways, that they were the most beautiful part of Draco, besides his smile, of course.
Harry read the newspaper aloud to him when he was bored. He made sure Draco was completely covered by his blankets when he went to bed so he wouldn't get cold. Harry gave Draco good night and good morning kisses every day, even if Draco had a cold. He prepared all three meals of the day for both of them, and they were always good. They had a telly in their living room; Harry always let Draco pick whatever channel he wanted to listen to. Usually, it was the muggle news; he liked making fun of their silly problems. They drank wine and cuddled on the couch when Draco was feeling bad, getting a bit drunk. They always laughed.
They would grow old together, Harry was sure of it. Yes, Draco was very emotional some days; they fought every now and then. They always made up. Every day was a struggle, but it was worth it because Harry loved Draco, and Draco loved Harry. Draco's disability will not get between them; it will only bring them closer. Harry will care for Draco until the day he died. He will never leave his side. Draco will soon heal, and come to terms with his blindness. He will be okay. Everything will be fine.