Slash Pairing: Draco/Harry
Summary: Harry is helping Draco regain his independence after an attack leaves Draco blind. They experience a pivotal moment in their progress. Notes: This is from a spontaneous prompt for a blind Draco, I don't normally write like this. I couldn't leave it alone.Work Text:
The argument is over. Neither of them stormed out. It's a first.
Draco has risen from the bed to stand in sunlight at the window. The pane is open and the same breeze that bends wild, overgrown grass outside their rental home, is the same that comes in and stirs the curtains. Curtains lift around Draco, and for a second, Harry is glad that Draco can't see. If Draco could see, then Harry wouldn't be able to stand there. He wouldn't be able to witness the sheer curtains diffusing light all around Draco's white hair, and to see it lift upon the gentle ebb pouring into the room. He wouldn't be able to look at Draco, without him looking back.
Draco is wearing a long, white linen shirt over muggle jeans. The shirt comes down past his hips and is decidedly wizard-like in its tailored cut and flowing characteristic. The jeans are plain. Harry likes the combination because it speaks of how much Draco has allowed him to influence his life. Those jeans have sat in their store bag, with the tag still on them, for over a year. Today, Draco has let him in. A year is forever when you're waiting for your eyes to adjust to the dark. During that time, Harry waited for Draco's eyes to adjust to him. The fact that Draco has stood and approached the chest of drawers by his window, in his little private room, was progress.
The fact that his hand lifts, and through the contact his fingertips make with polished wood, gives Harry a tactile sensation of its smoothness. Harry can feel the pads of those fingers trail over the little ridges and imperfections in the wood. He feels them slide against a the felt box sitting there. The one Harry left last night. The one that started the entire argument. The one asking Draco to give up the last of his defenses.
Draco's index finger traces the rounded edge of the box. Traces the raised fabric, brushing raised fibers until Harry thinks he's feeling the color. It's a smoky color and he knows that that particular charm is lost. He didn't buy it for the color. He bought it for the texture. Both color and texture changes when Draco traces the surface in one direction, and lets his finger return along the same path. It's just a ring box, but Draco is touching it like it's a life decision. It is, and it isn't. There's no ring in there. Harry's not that stupid. Not yet, but he is getting his courage up. It took everything he had to give the box to Draco last night.
The timing seemed perfect. They'd eaten the first real meal prepared by Draco for a change. It was a celebration. Moving here with him, to be near the school where he could learn to be independent without his sight, had been the right thing to do. Though, until last night, they'd faced too many hurdles to really know it. Draco once told him that losing his sight was his worst fear. It was one of those secret things you don't speak out loud, for fear of it coming true.
Over wine, nestled on the couch, he had confided, "I didn't think I could live a life in the dark. When you're a child, that sounds terrifying. Unfortunately, what people with sight know of being blind, comes from childhood insight. It's not dark at all. Not really. I mean, if I try to use my eyes, it's dark. But it's like the spaghetti, the wine, you, and even this room. I can know things in a different. I feel where you are. I tasted the deliciousness of the food long before I had a bite. I can feel how big the room is by how our voices sound in it. For everything I can feel and sense, there comes something like a vision. I guess you would call it a dream version. A translation. Not external sight, but inner sight."
His face scrunched at his own words. Harry sipped his glass on the other couch across from him and waited. He'd learned to let Draco finish what he needed to say. In the beginning, the frustration to find words for his feelings, was one of their biggest hurdles.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I can see in a way that I wouldn't notice with sight. I'm not glad it happened, but I'm certainly not in the dark. The information just takes a different form and I'm learning to read it."
That made sense to Harry, though he didn't rush to say he understood. You never tell a blind person you understand, no matter how much you want to support them. He still had the scar from when Draco threw the mug at him their first week in the house. They'd both been overwhelmed with promises they didn't know if they could keep. Harry had sworn to get Draco through school, and Draco had promised to try. When he'd heard how Draco lost his sight by stepping in front of a muggle woman being accosted by wizards, he couldn't mind his own business. He couldn't leave Draco in the dark, no matter what their past was. Truth be told, being without sight did seem like a fate worse than death, to someone who'd always had it. Harry related to that fear a little too much. It was all about the loss of control. The fear of being helpless. That was enough to humble anyone, but it would absolutely kill a Malfoy, Harry knew.
Sure, a Malfoy, especially Draco, wasn't the friendliest bird in the zoo. You couldn't pet it. It had to be segregated from all the others. But the line was the longest to see it, to get a picture. It's colors were amazing and didn't exist anywhere else in nature. You knew that once it died out, nothing as spectacular could take its place. It might not be friendly, but it was valuable. It was worth dropping everything in his career as an auror, and making sure Draco got the help he needed. Even if it got Harry a few scrapes and hurt feelings along the way. He couldn't imagine a life without such a stunning specimen.
That's why he gave Draco the box. It was just a gesture. It wasn't supposed to be the big deal it became. They were roommates and it was Harry's way of saying he wanted more, without offending Draco.
Now that he watched, it seemed almost sacrilege to observe Draco's expression. What was he thinking? What made his face go all uncertain like that, as if on the verge of a setback. Just say no, Harry wanted to tell him. He had, in fact, said so last night. But that only made Draco angrier for some reason.
When Harry couldn't understand, he prodded until Draco had yelled at him, "I don't want to have to tell you 'no.' I don't want to be faced with this decision. You dropped everything to help me get back on my feet, and this is all you want in return? I've never had to deal with this, Harry."
"I'm not asking for anything in return. Don't look at it like payment. My god, Malfoy, this is personal. If it's not 'yes', then it's okay if it's 'no'. It has to be."
"That's the thing. You're so fucking sentimental. You feel sorry for me, and I don't want it to be because you pity me. What am I supposed to think?"
"That's all I'm asking you to do, is think about it. Think, not commit. Just consider it. That's all."
Harry was starting to get frustrated, and more than a little embarrassed himself. It wasn't as if he went around doing this on a regular basis. He'd struggled so long with how to broach the subject, how to be considerate and mature at the same time, yet leave no room for misunderstanding. In conversation, he could never get the words to leave his mouth. But they had last night, and Draco-complicates-everything-Malfoy wasn't going to make him regret his decision. If Draco would just tell him no, it'd be easier because he could get past it and try to let it go.
But Draco kept standing there, staring with eyes that couldn't see, and Harry longed to know what his mind was showing him. This was supposed to be fun, the perfect compliment to a year spent realizing what he wanted most in this world. It wasn't supposed to be serious, not agonizingly so. But Draco's face told him that a series of agonizing decisions were taking place. Harry was, after all, getting the consideration he'd asked for.
Be careful what you ask for, they say… He knew it was cheating, spying on Draco this way. But if this was the deciding moment, he couldn't turn away from it. His breath caught as Draco's fingers pressed against the box, triggering its lid to open. Harry knew, when Draco ran his finger across the foil seal and lifted the tiny package out of the box, that he had his answer. Otherwise, the box would've gone crashing against the wall like the coffee mug before it. Draco did not throw things he wanted to keep. He startled when Draco spoke to him.
"I know you're there, Harry. I can feel you."
Harry swallowed. "I'm here." There was no running away from the moment that was going to change his life.
Draco palmed the packet. The condom. "Yes. I want to. But can we give it more time?"
"Of course. Please don't' think I'm trying to rush you. We'll take all the time you need."
Harry was glad that Draco couldn't see the silly grin taking over his face, or the relief in his tears.
End.