Sight.

Sight is a gift most take for granted. Most pity those who do not have it. As such, we attempt to help them: by assisting the blind man as he crosses a street, or as he tries to find something.

But that doesn't mean we don't often ask him an uncomfortable question: what do you see, sir? Some respond, "merely shadows and shapes" or "flashes of light", but rarely do people say they are left in total darkness.

Yet rarely do we lament those who intentionally choose to blindness.

We complain of them.

But only the bold ask a most uncomfortable question: why do you choose blindness?

oOo

Sunlight streamed through his window. He shielded his eyelids; leave it to his mother to literally attempt to pry them open.

"My sweet, time to get up… your robes have been ironed… shall I turn on the shower for you?" Narcissa asked in a hushed, even voice.

He rolled onto his side lazily to face her, placing his hand over his brow to better see her.

"No, I'll do it myself…" His voice trailed off.

"Very well, my sweet… breakfast will be waiting downstairs…" And she left.

He pushed himself out of bed, and walked over to his open window and gazed out at his family's manor.

He knew his mother was upset. He could tell by the tone of her voice. It was more hushed than normal, more careful. He knew this was because she was sad that she was sending her only child off to school, and he knew this was because that the school in question had always been a source of contention at Malfoy Manor.

Taking his eyes off a female peacock that was strutting across their front path, he walked over to his bathroom. It was a cold, grey room. The bathtub looked as though it had been carved out from a giant boulder that had been fixed to the ground. A stone gargoyle sink served as the centerpiece of the room, and a silver mirror hung above the head.

Willing himself not to fall back asleep, he threw a handful of water into his face. He raised his head to look in the mirror.

His white blonde hair was un-tidy, quite unlike its usual sleekness. His pale blue eyes stared hard at himself in the mirror. He couldn't help but wonder how Hogwarts would be this coming year. He lived a privileged life, he did, but Draco Malfoy couldn't be sure he would be living like this too much longer.

Draco showered and dressed with care, then headed downstairs.

His father was not sitting at the table in their dining room, but looking out the window, with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. Far from saying "Hello", he immediately began to lecture his son.

"We will be meeting Crabbe and Goyle at the place, not meeting with them before, as Mrs. Goyle felt her son might forget something, so they felt it best not to risk delaying the whole party. I do hope you haven't forgotten anything?"

"No, father," Draco said immediately as Narcissa walked in.

"Yes… well, eat your breakfast… leaving in 45 minutes…" He said absently, and then left the room.

Draco ate in silence and chewed slowly. No one spoke until Lucius returned and Narcissa started to comb her sons' hair.

"Draco, you will contact us through your owl, right?" she caressed his head slowly. He had grown into a fine boy, and would be even finer once he had been schooled. "We will send you anything you have forgot-"

"But he hasn't forgotten anything, we discussed that, Narcissa. However, you will receive other treats and letters… Lucius added, in a slightly nasty tone, at which Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair,

"Now… you will behave yourself. If I receive any letters about misconduct, you will be required to answer to me. While I believe Durmstrang would be able to teach you to not misbehave much better, your mother insisted upon sending you to Hogwarts…" his eyes lingered on Narcissa, who stared determinedly at Draco's head and continued to caress it, "which leads me to believe that I will need to deal with anything of question, since they will not handle misbehavior in a way I consider, ah… up to my standards. Understood?"

"Yes, father," Draco responded again.

"Then we shall now go." He turned abruptly and headed to the entrance hall.

Narcissa bewitched Draco's' trunk to float along with them, and followed suit. Draco, casting one longing look back at the house he had known for his whole life, and followed in their wake.

Lucius had always run his house with an iron first, never giving Draco anyway leeway with rules. Bed time was always observed (although 10:30 was a bit late for a boy of 11); there was no roughhousing in doors, and Lucius always had to give his approval of Draco's friends before they were invited to the house.

But Lucius never noticed that the more he tried to restrain Draco, the more difficult and irascible Draco

was.

oOo

The Malfoys, Crabbes and Goyles arrived at Platform 9 and ¾ with fifteen minutes to spare. They entered the train to load the boy's trunks into the same compartment.

Once they were done, they left the compartment, save for Draco and Narcissa.

"Draco, wait," Narcissa said quickly, grabbing his arm tightly.

"What, mother?" He said in a drawling voice.

Her eyes were full of tears, "I hope you have a good term."

Draco merely stared at her, "You're actually this emotional."

Narcissa gave herself a little shake and cleared her throat, "I realize that your father might not have been as sentimental as you would like," she said carefully.

Draco observed her for a moment. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to defend his father, as he usually did. In truth, he thought Narcissa was right. Lucius was being unusually cold.

He shrugged, "I suppose I'm used to it," he lied, somewhat mechanically.

Narcissa reached out to him and hugged him quickly, her thin arms holding him tightly.

Draco froze, still a bit unnerved by his mother's sudden display of emotion. He realized a moment later that his eyes were wet. He was used to affection.

But he snapped out of it when his father came back in.

"Narcissa, let him be a boy, not a toddler," he muttered while standing in the doorway, "And didn't you need to speak with the Crabbes and Goyles about a dinner party?"

"Yes," she said, clearing her throat yet again, "I'll do that," and she swept hurriedly out of the room.

Now it was just Lucius and Draco in the compartment. His father gave him a stern look, gripped him on the shoulder and said perfunctorily, "Have a good term. We'll see you at Christmas."

Draco nodded and lifted his hand to wave. Lucius gave his son a curt smile and then left.

Draco stared at the spot his father had just vacated. He supposed his father was having just as hard of a time letting go, but he thought it was more because he realized that he had little to no control over his only son.

oOo

As the train pulled out of the station, Crabbe and Goyle finally entered the compartment.

"Took you long enough," Draco said sharply, "Where've you been?"

"Saying goodbye, weren't you?" Crabbe said in a defensive voice.

"Yeah, I did that in the compartment, I didn't need to do it twice," he sneered.

Crabbe shrugged and sat down next to Goyle, who was rummaging in his pocket, eventually removing a Chocolate Frog.

"After you're done gorging yourself on what must be your tenth chocolate frog, Goyle, let's explore the train, look for Zabini, maybe…" Draco sighed, leaning against the train's wall.

"Why didn't we meet up with him before?" Goyle asked in between bites.

"Didn't you listen? His mother brought them to live in their apartment in London this week; they didn't need to meet up in the country," Draco said witheringly, "Let's just go now."

But as he said this, the woman with the treat trolley open their compartment, "Would you boys like anything to eat?"

Draco wanted to say no, but the Acid Pops caught his eyes, and begrudgingly, he decided to postpone his foray throughout the train for a little while so they could eat their sweets.

oOo

Despite Draco finishing his Acid Pops quickly, Crabbe and Goyle took their time, relishing their sweets and eating each piece more slowly than the last.

"Alright, I've had enough," he snapped, standing up quickly, "You two can just sit there and I'll look for Blaise," Draco said scathingly, "Don't bother to catch up; by the time I'll have found him, you'll still be eating."

And he turned on his heel and left.

oOo

As he walked down the hallway, still fuming about Crabbe and Goyle's gluttony, he forgot to even check the majority of the compartments that passed by. Swearing underneath his breath, he turned around to check them again.

But as he turned around, one of the compartment doors slid open.

A girl walked out and glanced at him quickly. She had long, brown hair that was curly yet frizzy at the same time. It flowed down her back, skirting around her shoulder blades. Her chin sloped into a slight point at the end, giving her face the appearance almost like a heart. Her quick eyes were a bright yellowish brown, and they gave the impression of evaluating him the whole while. Her nose had a pretty slant to it; not obtrusive, and centered perfectly above her soft, pink lips. She was shorter than him, but her limbs were long and thin. He could see that she had unusually broad shoulders and bony collarbones through the white collared shirt she wore, as her sweater was clutched in her hand.

He must've realized that he was staring at her for a great deal of time, for she was furrowing her brow at him. Her curious, inquisitive face caused him to smile slightly.

At this, she brushed her hair back behind her ear and smiled as well, then turned and left.

He watched her walk away from him, studying the way her hair bounced slightly as she walked. Then he noticed her gait; confident, but with a slight haste.

He stood for a moment, thinking of what he had seen. He found her fascinating, no doubt, but he also found her-

"Beautiful," he whispered appreciatively.

After another moment, he gave himself a little shake, "Idiot," he muttered, "You don't even know her name!"

"Wait!" He shouted, taking a few steps toward her.

She spun around and cocked her head, studying him closely, "Can I help you?" she wondered aloud.

The boy cleared his throat, "I'm Draco Malfoy," he said quickly, extending a hand, "You're…?"

"Hermione Granger," she said coolly, still watching him closely, "Nice to meet you."

He smiled, and then looked beyond her. She realized he wanted to pass her, so she leant up against a compartment's walls to let him.

He walked slowly past her, brushing her chest with his arm, his robe catching around her leg.

She couldn't help but think that he had no perception of manners and personal space.

But he couldn't help but think he'd made a lasting impression on her.