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Chapter Two

It was the end of the week already, and finally she was getting ready to go home. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna and their children had come to pick her up; she was to stay with Harry and Ginny until she adjusted to life again.

"All set?" Harry asked, sounding enthusiastic. Hermione smiled, picking up on his hyperactivity.

"I'm ready," she smiled. Zacharias cleared his throat as Harry guided her towards the door.

"A word, please, before you leave." Ron groaned.

"Zacharias Smith, I've had it up to here with your words," he grumbled, but nevertheless they all stopped and waited to hear what he had to say.

"You're going to have to take it easy," he addressed Hermione. "Whilst the nerves elsewhere aren't too badly affected, you will be shaky and it'll take a while for your body to recover. Stick to light meals twice a day at first and then build up to a more normal eating pattern. I'm sending some potions to you, they'll help your body re-adjust."

"Anything else?" Hermione asked quietly. Zacharias sighed.

"Yes." A hand was put on her shoulder, and she assumed it was him. "Try to adjust to life with your blindness, Hermione. We might not ever be able to recover your optic nerves."

"Okay." Her voice was subdued, but behind her unseeing eyes her mind was racing away. Somewhere out there, there was a spell or a potion to help her – and she'd be damned if she didn't try and find it.

Waiting for her was a welcome home party, attended by everyone she could ever remember knowing and some she couldn't. Cheers of "Welcome home, Hermione!" met her, and she was instantly surrounded by people. It was extremely unnerving, and she was grateful to Harry and Ron, who rarely left her side except to get her a drink, and kept up a running commentary.

"There's Neville," Harry muttered, steering her out of the way. "He's an important Healer at St Mungo's now, he's the one who put Zacharias on your case. He's discovered properties of Mandrakes that we never even dreamed of."

"Always knew he'd do something with plants," commented Ron. "Never expected it to be potions, though. Oh look, there's the Patil twins."

"Still as annoying as ever," Harry said, and Hermione laughed. "They've gone into business with Lavender, doing fashion. Padma handles the money side so that Lav and Parv don't spend everything."

"There's Blaise," interrupted Ron, taking his arm off Hermione's, presumably to wave.

"Zabini?" asked Hermione for confirmation.

"Yeah, turns out he wasn't actually a Death Eater," Ron said, laughing. "He was just a stuck-up bastard."

"Ah," Hermione said with a grin. "So I take it he's changed, if he's here."

"Nope, he's still stuck-up. He's just actually doing some good, since he's Minister for Magic and all that." Harry placed a bottle in Hermione's hands to replace her empty Butterbeer.

"He's the Minister?" asked Hermione, surprised. "Of all those in our year, I wouldn't have expected him."

"He's actually quite decent," commented Ron. "Especially if you compare him to that git Fudge and Scrimgeour." Hermione felt Harry shudder at the name, and she laughed.

"I'll take your word for it." She sipped from her drink, feeling a little less trapped the more she heard. "Everything's changed so much," she sighed. "Slytherins… aren't Slytherins any more. Houses don't matter. Sides don't matter."

"You'll adjust to it," Harry said, squeezing her hand. "Think of it as starting afresh."

"What else do I need to know, before I go to lie down?" she asked wearily. Harry and Ron went silent, she could imagine them looking at each other over her head. "Well?" she demanded, when she couldn't bear it any more.

"Well…" Harry said slowly. "You're not the only one living here with us at the moment."

"So?" asked Hermione, her thoughts brightening at the news – someone who wasn't absorbed in children and weddings to keep her company.

"So… there's a few here. We've been taking in those who were injured in the war and don't have anywhere to go, friends and family… Percy's here. So's Cho, and Oliver Wood." He took a deep breath, and Ron groaned.

"What he's trying to say, Hermione, is that Malfoy is also here," Ron said simply. Hermione's face scrunched up in hatred and loathing.

"What?!" she shouted, and the room fell silent. Harry groaned.

"It's not what you think, Hermione. Remember, two years have passed," he said defensively, but Hermione snatched her hands away from the two boys.

"He's the reason Dumbledore is dead!" she shrieked, unusually agitated – but with good reason. "He helped the Death Eaters escape from Azkaban! He kidnapped Ginny, tortured her, nearly killed her – he killed Bill and Fleur, and she was pregnant, Harry, your almost-sister-in-law, did you forget that? Did you forget that he's the reason I've been lying in a coma for two years, the reason that my parents couldn't be at my side? Did you forget that he was the worst of them all, barring only Voldemort? How could you forgive him for that?!"

"Hermione, things have changed," Harry started, but Hermione stalked away, holding her hands out in front of her to make sure she didn't bump into anything. Every now and then a hand would push her gently in a certain direction, and she eventually reached the door.

"Things haven't changed that much," she snapped, holding onto the doorway to steady herself. "I'm blind because of him, Harry – and I was one of the lucky ones. There are people who would love to be in my position, because they would at least be alive." She felt her way forward, until she stumbled onto some stairs by accident, and climbed up them on all fours. Halfway up light footsteps caught up with her, reaching down for her arm.

"I'll show you to your room," Ginny said in a low voice.

"I don't want to stay here," Hermione whispered, snatching her arm back. "I'm not a charity case, Ginny, and I'm not living under the same roof as Malfoy."

"He's already offered to move out and find somewhere else, Hermione." Ginny's kind arms took her arm again and pulled her up the stairs. "The problem is, he doesn't have anywhere else to go. He still offered to go, though – as soon as he heard your outburst in there. He was standing behind you." A furious blush came to Hermione's cheeks, but she held her head as high and as proudly as she could.

"I meant every word of it, Ginny. If it wasn't for him I would be able to walk up these stairs myself. And I wouldn't need to walk up them, because I would have my own house, my own family. I wouldn't have been comatose. I wouldn't be blind now."

"I know, Hermione." The stairs ended and Hermione stumbled, not expecting it. Ginny caught her and turned her, walking along carefully to guide her. "I'm just saying that a lot has happened. I know what he's done, more than you do."

"Don't rub it in, Ginny," Hermione snapped. "If he hadn't cursed me so badly I would know it just as well as you do." Ginny sighed.

"All I'm saying is give him a chance, Hermione. Here's your room." There was a click as a door swung open. "Your bed is about fifteen steps in front of you," Ginny added helpfully. Hermione stepped forward uneasily, counting; at fourteen she felt the edge of the bed, and felt her way to a lying position, back to the door. Ginny gave another sigh, and closed the door softly. Hermione felt a warmth at the corners of her broken eyes and lifted her fingers to touch the tears that were falling.

"I can't forgive him," she whispered, curling up and hugging her knees. "I can never forgive him."

A gentle knocking awoke her – Hermione realised that she had fallen asleep. Cried herself to sleep. What a good start to the rest of my life, she grimaced. Maybe if I keep my eyes closed, they'll go away.

The knocking stopped, and Hermione relaxed; and then the door was pushed open gently, and light footsteps alternating with the tapping of a stick approached. She kept her back to the door, and her eyes shut. A soft sigh came from above her, and then a low whisper.

"Granger… Hermione… I am more sorry than you will ever realise." She stiffened as she understood who it was. More footsteps followed before she could react further.

"Is she awake?" It was Ginny.

"No."

"We'd better leave her sleep," Ginny said, sounding like Molly Weasley. "Come on, Draco. Time to eat."

"She looks so peaceful," commented Draco. "I wish she didn't have to suffer, Gin."

"I know." A sound of movement, as if Ginny had hugged Draco, and then the footsteps and the tapping of the stick left slowly. Once she thought they had gone, Hermione reached out for her pillow and dragged it down slowly, hugging it as tightly as she could.

"Words can't make up for what you've done," she whispered to the pillow. "You took my sight from me. I can't read. I can't do magic, I can't make potions. I can't see the people I fought the war with, fought them for. I can't see the children, I won't see the weddings. I fought for the light and now I have to spend my life in darkness because of you." Shuddering sobs shook her, and she broke down into the pillow, loud, heart-broken cries muffled by its softness. She almost didn't hear the voice in the doorway.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, because I can never forgive myself."

When she awoke next, it was morning, and she knew because a small voice was coming from the doorway.

"Aunty Hermione, are you awake?"

She sat up with a smile in the direction of the doorway – or what she remembered as being the doorway. Tiny footsteps pattered across the floor and a child leapt up beside her.

"Aunty Hermione! Daddy says its time for breakfast and I can show you down and you can play with me!" she babbled in her childish excitement. Harry must have used magic to make her more understandable, because Hermione could hear her stumbling over some of the longer words and mispronouncing them.

"Alright then, Lily," she said, finding the edge of the bed with her hands and then swinging her legs over. A pair of slippers were there, waiting for her feet, and she smiled at the thoughtfulness. "Let's go." A small hand slipped into hers and tugged her around the bed.

"We're having toast for breakfast," she announced solemnly. "Mam says her toast isn't as good as Grandma Molly's was." Was, noticed Hermione sombrely. It wasn't a surprise to her that Molly Weasley had died in the war. She had lost too much to be able to continue living – first Charlie, out in Romania, rescuing the dragons; then George, in a battle at Diagon Alley; next Bill and Fleur, and their unborn child, and finally Arthur. It had broken her heart.

"Your Grandma Molly was an excellent cook," Hermione agreed, pausing as Lily stumbled forward to guide Hermione's hand to a banister. "There's steps," Lily warned seriously. "Fifteen, because I counted." Hermione smiled at the child's eagerness.

"Let's count them again, shall we?" Hermione asked, tapping the floor in front of her with her foot until she found the drop to the step. "One," she said, stepping down carefully.

"One," Lily repeated eagerly, bouncing down next to her; Hermione felt for the next step.

"Two."

"Two!" Lily cheered, following, and between them they navigated the stairs, Hermione relying heavily on the banister to guide her. At last they reached fourteen, and then a hand reached up to help Hermione down.

"Fifteen!" Lily finished. A laugh came from next to her – Harry.

"She's never looked so pleased with herself," he commented, tucking Hermione's arm through his. "Go on, Lily, run off and tell your mother that we're coming." The small hand left Hermione's, and tiny footsteps ran off into the distance.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked warmly, as if her temper the day before had never happened. Hermione felt instantly guilty.

"I'm fine," she said with a feeble smile. "Thank you for putting the slippers out for me."

"Ginny insisted you be comfortable," he said, and she could picture him grinning, the soft, amused smile of a man very much in love.

"I'm sorry I caused such a scene yesterday," Hermione said softly as Harry guided her to a chair and sat her down. The smell of food filled the air, making her mouth water, and she could hear murmured conversations around her. Unlike the day before the air was very comfortable, almost homey.

"It's alright, Hermione. I can understand why you did it." Harry sat down next to her and took her hands in his. "I'm not asking you to give him a second chance, not now. I don't want another Vesuvius," he joked, and Hermione smiled. "Just put up with him, until we can find you a new home and a way of coping." The tapping of a stick approached, but it didn't come near her.

"How come he's got a stick?" she asked quietly. Harry sighed.

"It's his choice to tell you, Hermione, and your decision to ask," he said almost teasingly. "I'm not breaking anyone's confidence." Even though he sounded light-hearted, there was a serious undertone to his words that she recognised from the days before she fell into her coma.

"Alright, I won't make you tell me," she said, and then gave a wide grin. "Even though I could still hex you into oblivion, blind or not." Harry laughed. "If you don't feed me now, though, I'll hex you anyway."

"Don't worry, I've learnt not to stand between a woman and her food," he said with feeling. "Gin, can Hermione have some food?"

"Of course!" Ginny called, and footsteps moved closer. There was a clink on the table in front of her, and then gentle hands – Harry's, she thought, because they were larger and more calloused than Ginny's – guided her to the plate's edges. There they left, allowing her to find the slices of toast and eat herself. They know me well, she thought, thankful for the small degree of independence she had left.

A fluttering caught her attention and she turned her head, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. Ginny gave a cry of "Mail's here!" and the murmuring stopped as the flapping increased. She heard an owl land near her, claws clicking on the table's surface. Then she heard the now familiar tapping of Draco's approach.

"There's an owl for you, Hermione," he said softly. Hermione froze.

"Granger," she corrected.

"What?" There was confusion in his voice, a much less condescending voice than it had been back in Hogwarts. Nevertheless, it was still Draco Malfoy.

"Don't call me Hermione," she said sharply. "You never have before. I don't need your pity, Malfoy."

"I don't-"

"Go away," she said shortly, before calling, "Harry?" More footsteps approached, and Harry said "Yes?"

"I've got an owl, for some reason. Can you read it to me, please?" There was a sigh from the direction of Draco, and then a soft tapping as he retreated. Harry was silent, presumably retrieving her letter, and then he sat next to her.

"Hermione," he read. "Please find enclosed a copy of the Braille alphabet and some books that should be of interest to you. The alphabet is charmed to speak the letters as you read them. I hope you enjoy." Hermione felt her heart soar. Books! Something to learn, to put her mind to; something that meant hope.

"Show me!" she commanded, cutting Harry off before he finished the letter.

"Yes Ma'am," he said jokingly, moving her plate with a clink. Her fingers were taken lightly, and placed onto parchment with a series of raised dots on it. As her fingers ran over them, a voice began to speak.

"A. B. C." Just as promised by the letter. A huge smile spread across Hermione's face and she reached out to find where Harry was sitting, touching his arms lightly before throwing her arms around him.

"This is fantastic, Harry!" she enthused, squeezing him tightly before finding the table and the parchment again. "What are the books?"

"I don't know," he said, probably with a shrug she imagined. "The titles are in Braille, too." He was sounding amused, and Hermione felt her cheeks grow heated. She felt like a schoolgirl again, back when subjects were new and there was a whole world waiting for her. Her fingers touched the parchment again. Braille. I never thought of it. Her thanks went out to whoever had sent the owl – probably Zacharias, she thought, remembering that she hadn't heard who the sender was.

No matter who had sent these, she was grateful. It meant she could still read, research, and be useful; and what good was Hermione Granger if she wasn't useful?

"There's a study down the hallway," Harry said thoughtfully. "I can show you the way now, if you want. It'll give you something to do." Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

"Thanks, Harry," she smiled. He helped her up, and they made their way down a wooden-floored hallway. Halfway along little Lily caught up, slipping her small hand into Hermione's other, and chattering excitedly. Hermione heard nothing of it; all her thoughts were focused on the books and parchment held by Harry. She would be fluent in Braille within a week, she vowed silently. And then she would be able to get back to work helping the Order, helping Harry; she could research ways to recover her eyesight.

Anything she could do, she would do; just to feel a little useful again.

Introducing... Malfoy! There'll be much more to come, hopefully soon as part of my new year's resolutions. Enjoy in the meantime!