A/N: I didn't think I would finish this chapter before the 21st but then the power went out, and one thing led to another. As was the case with chapter thirteen, this one was beta'd either, so keep that in mind.

Chapter Fourteen

The smells wafting up from the cauldron were thick and fetid. On more than one occasion, Harry had tugged his collar up over his mouth and nose as he continued to stir. He wished Hermione would stay and give him some assistance, but she only stopped at the door periodically to give a disapproving sniff and vague advice.

The directions were smudged and faded. Harry had problems enough with potion making without the aide of poor instructions. Luckily, the potion itself seemed straightforward enough. There were no particulars when it came to how to stir or chopping roots. The only ingredient Harry found himself fretting over were the objects he had tucked away in the bag of Mugwort.

"You're really going to let him drink that?"

Harry gave a start and looked back to the door, where Hermione was eyeing the bag of Mugwort with knowing trepidation.

"He'll be furious if he finds out, well, after being sick. It just – it isn't worth it." Hermione still made a point to keep her voice down, for which Harry was thankful.

"I didn't plan on telling him." Harry said, gathering some courage (or perhaps it was gall) and emptying the bag onto his cutting board.

"Eyes," Hermione said in disgust, closing her own and putting her back to Harry. "It's barbaric and sick and-and it's just wrong, Harry!"

"But, if he gets his sight back, do you really think he'll care?" Harry was, again, becoming angry with Hermione. Of course, it was only because he knew she was right. He just didn't want a reminder of that every few minutes.

"You don't even know if it will work." Hermione shuddered as she heard the sound of knife against cutting board.

That was true, but Harry had already gone to great lengths to convince himself it would. "If you're not going to help-" But Hermione had already gone.

Inside the cauldron, the contents were a murky gray. It certainly didn't look magical. If anything, it reminded Harry, equivocally of used dishwater, very thick, used dishwater. Unintentionally looking away, he lifted his cutting board and dumped the contents into the potion below. As he shook free the residue with a sharp flick of the wrist, a sudden flood of acrid smoke poured upwards. Harry coughed and stepped back, waving his free hand to divert some of what was coming at him, only to find that it was no longer there. Opening his eyes cautiously, Harry stepped forward and looked down into the cauldron.

The color had changed from a dirty gray to the purest shade of black Harry had ever seen. It stretched rigidly across the surface, as if the potion had transfigured itself into a solid mass of glass. Just be sure, Harry reached for a flask from the table and dipped it in. The surface gave way and rushed into the opening of the container like silk. As soon as he pulled his hand back and closed the flask, the surface was once more glass-like, as if nothing had disturbed it.

The potion itself no longer had any discernable scent. It didn't even reflect the room around him. Harry frowned, leaning over the cauldron further. He couldn't see himself, but he was sure he saw something. It was wispy and insubstantial and flitting lazily from side to side.

Harry pushed his glasses a little further up his nose, hoping to get a little better focus on whatever the reflection was when he was interrupted.

"Potter?"

Harry jumped, nearly letting his glasses fall down into the cauldron. He had no desire to retrieve them from that. "Wha-" he stepped back quickly, took a deep breath, and managed something a little more intelligible. "Hey, what is it?"

Malfoy entered the room, crossing to the chair near the window. However, he lingered for a moment near the cauldron then faced Harry. "Is this what's supposed to give me my sight back?" His voice was hopeful but cautious. Harry didn't usually like to get his hopes up either and wondered why he was the only one managing it this time.

"That's the idea. It needs to sit for a while though." The recipe said nothing of the sort, but Harry was beginning to feel as if he could stand to wait a little longer. All this doubt was beginning to make him a little nervous. Besides, he wanted to speak with Malfoy first. There were probably a few things that needed to be addressed.

"Malfoy, last night…" Harry felt his face growing warm. This had all been so much easier in his head. "You – I mean, I…" It was hard to gauge what Malfoy was thinking, and Harry found himself wishing he'd initiated this conversation when Draco had his sight back. That bandage was certainly getting in the way now.

"I thought you'd finally come to terms with it," Malfoy said at last, when the silence had gone on long enough to give the impression that Harry had lost where he was going with the conversation. "I guess you always were slow, but, for Merlin's sake, Potter." He finished walking to the chair and sat down.

Ignoring the insult, Harry took a few hesitant steps toward the armchair. He stopped a few feet from Draco, deciding on his exact words before opening his mouth this time. "With what, that I might be gay?"

"I think we've all figured that one out by now – and by 'all', I suppose I mean just you and me." Malfoy felt behind himself, making sure there were no cobwebs (There were quite a few of these in Grimmauld Place and, more than once, Harry had spotted Malfoy fastidiously, pulling them from his hair.) before leaning back. "You've slept near me almost every night since I wound up at the Weasley's. I mean, if not in the same bed, then at least within arm's length. There was more than that, of course. I mean, you can't act like it wasn't obvious. I thought it was safe to assume-"

"What?" Harry took a step closer, suddenly gaining confidence he hadn't known was there. "What was obvious? -Because I didn't see you stopping me from doing any of those things. I don't know how I feel about you, Malfoy, but don't act like it's just me! Maybe I want you like I wanted Ginny, but this is just something I'm figuring out now, isn't it? For all I know, it was seeing you with Blaise in the Pensieve that triggered all of this. Blaise is attractive, right? Maybe if I was around him for a long time too, I'm feel the same way." This all sounded very silly to Harry in retrospect, but he was getting a response. He didn't need to see Malfoy's eyes to know that he had just gone a little paler and sat up a little straighter.

"You're the one who's had this figured out for years now," Harry went on, quite unable to silence himself at this point. "I would think you could make more sense of all these feelings than I could at this point. I was pulling away last night. I was ready to go upstairs and sleep somewhere else. It was you who kissed me. Do you think you could love me or are you just attracted to me? Do you have any of this figured out, because I don't!"

Harry finally stopped to breathe. Somehow, he felt lighter for having said all of that. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked as if he'd just been told the world most definitely wasn't round and he was foolish for having ever thought it was. He shifted uncomfortably in the armchair for a moment.

"Well?" Harry felt as though, if he didn't press for an answer now, he would never get one. When there was still no response, he raised his voice slightly. "Well, wh-"

"I don't know!" Malfoy snapped, making these words as venomous as he could manage. Suddenly, Harry felt as if he'd done something wrong again. He'd only managed to make Draco as uncomfortable as he had been on this subject. "Well, I thought I knew… I don't anymore." Malfoy's shoulders hunched forward and, he hung his head against his hands. Whether he was very embarrassed, upset, or just thinking, Harry couldn't tell.

Still spurred forward from his last burst of courage, Harry went down to his knees in front of the armchair. "All right," he said, lowering his voice and pulling the other's hands away. "We both have fair warning this time. You're welcome to stop me if that's what you want." Harry kissed Malfoy then, still holding onto both of the other's hands as he did so.

The kiss was clumsier and significantly more awkward than the night before. Harry found himself beginning to kiss Malfoy like he had kissed Ginny, realizing that this might be a mistake and switching tactics. Of course, he only really knew of one general way to kiss someone, and trying something else gave him limited options. As strange as it was, he could still feel his heart pounding as it had the night before. It wasn't adrenaline, because he was sure he could feel that too. He couldn't place the emotion, but it felt right somehow.

Malfoy pulled away first, taking a few shallow breaths followed by calmer, slightly deeper ones before he pushed Harry back slightly. For one, terrifying moment, Harry thought he meant to stand and leave the room. Instead he slid off the chair and down onto his knees in front of Harry. "You're a lousy kisser, Potter. I don't know how the Weaselette put up with it."

Harry began to prepare an annoyed retort, but breathed a completely inappropriate sigh of relief instead. "Sorry," he said, the end of the word becoming a laugh. "I thought kissing a guy might be different."

"Not really," Malfoy said, putting his hands to Harry shoulders. "Well, that might be a lie. I wouldn't know. The only girl I've ever kissed was Pansy and what with the nagging urge to get away and trying to keep tabs on where her hands were going, I was pretty distracted."

Harry found himself smiling again as he pictured that. He knew Malfoy only thought of Pansy as a friend and, for that reason, found it difficult to be jealous.

"Just kiss me like you would kiss Ginny," Malfoy said, his hands traveling up to Harry's face. Even with the coin, Harry knew it had to be strange to determine just where everything was without being able to see. "You'd just better not be thinking of Ginny. If you do I'll – well, I won't know, but the guilt will eat you alive, I'm sure."

"Oh, it will," Harry agreed in slightly sarcastic, but not humorless tones. "So, as I understand it, in this you'll be the gir-"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm leaving now," Malfoy warned and Harry quickly bit back the urge to do so anyway.

"All right," Harry breathed, his smile fading as he waited for Malfoy. Closing his eyes, he felt the edge of Malfoy's thumb graze his lips and the fingers of his other hand lightly trace the bridge of his nose. Harry knew Draco was just getting a better idea of how to lean in to kiss him, but his heart began racing again anyway.

Malfoy only lowered his hands once his lips had made contact with Harry's. He was a passionate kisser, more sure of himself than Harry had been. His grip settled upon Harry's shoulders at first, and Harry got the impression that he should figure out something to do with his hands as well. He raised them awkwardly and then, with great uncertainty, did just what he would have with Ginny. When Malfoy didn't hit the hands from his waist, Harry let them remain there with a bit more confidence.

Had Malfoy not been quite so tall, Harry might have felt more in charge. Instead, he just felt small and increasingly more light-headed. The kiss wouldn't be a long one if he pulled back now, and Harry felt a desperate need to prove himself. It was as if anything that happened between them from here on depended on his making this kiss count.

Pushing back from the armchair, Harry pressed his body to Malfoy's and wrapped one arm around him completely before falling a short distance sideways. The kiss almost broke at that point as Malfoy began to pull away. Instead, Harry caught them both quickly, lowering himself and Malfoy down to the floor.

Able to move a bit further up from this position and still on his knees, Harry felt as if he had slightly more control over the situation. This might have been something of an illusion, since Malfoy still seemed to be leading things. Between varying sensations of tongue and teeth, Harry found his head still dizzy and his handle on time slipping. When he felt Malfoy's hands sliding from his shoulders, he finally pulled away.

Harry dropped his head against Draco's shoulder for the moment, giving his senses a moment to recover. His lips were still moist and tingling, and while it wasn't unpleasant, it distracted him from speaking.

"Better." Malfoy conceded at last, putting a hand back to Harry's shoulder. "A little ambitious, but better."

Harry thought, with a wince, that Ginny had never shoved him off to the side when they were done snogging. "I still don't know what any of it means," he grumbled, as Malfoy propped himself up so that Harry could pull back his still pinned arm.

"Did you expect a kiss to solve everything," Draco faced him at that, curious.

"No," Harry admitted. "But it could have been… clearer. It feels better than it did with Ginny, though. What about you?"

"I've have better kisses," Malfoy said, sneezing. "This floor is disgusting."

"That's not what I meant," Harry said quickly, sitting up as well.

"I don't know," Malfoy sighed, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. "This all seems wrong, but-" He offered a hand down to Harry who allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. "I think things would get even more confusing if we just stopped this here."

"No kidding." Harry held onto Malfoy's hand a little longer than was necessary. "But is it all right if we keep this from the others?" He didn't feel like explaining everything to Ron and Hermione when he wasn't entirely sure of what was going on himself.

"What's in it for me."

Harry's expression fell, and he quickly tried to decide on which of the dozen reasons to keep this quiet to spout first.

"Kidding, Potter," Malfoy said quickly. "Believe it or not, I really don't care what your friends know."

"Funny," Harry muttered crossing back to the cauldron. His heart was still pounding, and he did his best to hide just how much all of this was affecting him. Had he been preparing for this moment for years and continually reassured that it was going to happen, Harry doubted he would have believed it, much less been ready.

When, he wondered, might this have happened had he come to terms with it earlier. It would have made life at Hogwarts a lot easier, that much was for certain. He might not completely hated Slytherin, or that hatred might have, at least, been a bit more subdued. Dumbledore might even still be alive…

"Is it ready?"

"Huh?" Harry realized Malfoy was standing at his side and questioning the contents of the cauldron. They hadn't changed. Harry decided that was promising, but was still hesitant about seeing whether it would work or not now that it had finally come down to it. "As ready as it'll ever be, I guess."

Harry picked up the flask he had filled earlier and faced Draco. "If it works, will you stay? I mean, once you have your sight back…"

Malfoy put a hand to the flask but didn't take it from Harry just yet. "Have I said anything to make you think I wouldn't?"

"No," Harry said quietly, feeling foolish for still worrying. He had to fight the urge to hug Malfoy for his own reassurance then. Their relationship was still uncertain to him, and the rush of courage he had felt earlier was quickly fading. Now he was more focused upon the potion Malfoy had in his hand.

"Where'd you find the recipe?" Draco asked, obviously quite nervous as well.

"A book of Hermione's," Harry said, trying to keep his answer vague. "It's Dark Magic, but it's all I can find."

"And what's in it?"

Harry felt his pulse quicken at that. "Different roots and herbs," he said, managing to sound surprisingly convincing. "I was able to swipe all of the ingredients from Hogwarts while we were at the Shrieking Shack. And, before you ask, I don't know exactly how it works; I just know what it's supposed to do." The thought of re-growing bones came to mind, and Harry hoped it wouldn't be quite that painful. Even if it did restore his sight, Harry had a feeling Malfoy would manage to be angry with him.

Taking a deep breath, Draco opened the flask and brought it to his lips. Harry looked away. He knew what was suffused inside the dark liquid and couldn't bring himself to even think about what it was Malfoy was drinking.

There was silence, then a hollow clatter as the flask hit the floor. Harry spun and faced Malfoy, who had kneeled down on the floor, rubbing at the bandages on his face as if something stinging had gotten into his eyes. His breathing began quicker and more ragged as the stinging only seemed to increase. He gave a quiet cry of pain then a louder one.

Harry took a step closer, unsure of what to do. Malfoy only shoved him away once he was within arm's length. Harry had a feeling he would just be hit if he tried any comforting at all. Instead he moved back to the wall and watched as Draco went down to both knees. His cries of anguish were so loud by now, Harry was certain the others could hear him from downstairs.

Sure enough, he soon heard footsteps rushing upwards. Ron and Hermione appeared in the door a moment later, both looking alarmed. Harry was confident Hermione knew what was happening. She gave him a concerned look that seemed to ask if this was what was supposed to happen?

"What the hell is going on!" Ron was the only one of them who hadn't been filled in on any of this. He rushed to the center of the room and crouched down in front of Malfoy, reaching around to remove the bandages the other was clawing at. Apparently, Draco was far too distracted with the pain the push him away.

Hermione was quick to help Ron, going behind Malfoy to restrain his arms. Ron was blocking Harry's view of anything that was going on, but he was sure he caught a glimpse of red. Suddenly, Harry was terrified. What if Hermione had been right all along? What if all of this really had been a mistake? He was frozen to the spot, unable to force himself to go forward and join the others.

The room went silent. "What happened?" Ron asked, breathless as Hermione moved back, letting Draco fall against her. He appeared to be unconscious, but Harry couldn't be sure.

"Harry-" Hermione's eyes darted in his direction for a moment. She looked pale and worried and rather ill. "Harry found a potion that was supposed to restore vision and, well, we don't know if it worked yet…"

"Don't know!" Ron was obviously still alarmed by all of this. "He's bleeding, that is a good sign, is it?" There seemed to even be some concern on Ron's part but Harry paid little mind to it, rushing closer instead.

"It was Dark Magic, Ron. Dark Magic is unpredictable, but, actually it does look as if he's healed a bit…" There was indeed blood smeared across Malfoy's eyes and smudged rivulets of it on his cheeks, where it had dripped down while he was sitting up.

Hermione took the bloodstained bandage Ron had pulled off in one hand and flipped it over so that the clean side was facing down. "See?" she said, dabbing away the red carefully.

Harry leaned a little closer and felt a slight relief when he saw that the area around Malfoy's eyes was no longer ruined. There was still a light scar visible, but it seemed to have skipped over the eyes entirely. "Does that mean it worked?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I don't know." Hermione put the bandage down and pushed Malfoy back into a sitting position as she began to stand. "Let's get him to a bedroom, all right?" Even as she spoke, Harry felt the room becoming colder.

Ron, who had taken a hold of Malfoy's shoulders, obviously intending to help Harry get him to a bedroom as Hermione had suggested, exhaled slowly. "What's happening now?" he asked worriedly, watching his own, crystalline breath disperse in the air around him.

"I don't-" Hermione went back to her knees. For a moment Harry was puzzled then realized it was because Malfoy appeared to be coming around. He looked pale, but no longer seemed to be in any pain. Of course, he didn't appear to be particularly happy either. "Malfoy?" Hermione said quietly, sitting behind him so that he could lean back again. Ron was too confused to appear particularly envious.

Harry moved around Hermione to kneel down beside Ron. He was getting anxious now. If the potion had worked maybe he could finally stop feeling so horribly guilty for all of this. Maybe he could even find the nerve to tell Malfoy the truth.

Malfoy began to open his eyes but closed them again quickly with a wince. Hermione raised her wand and flicked it at the lamp on the table. It dimmed then extinguished itself, leaving all of them in near darkness.

Draco Malfoy had never been a big fan of pain. He generally tried to avoid it, and, with the exception of these last few years, had done a rather good job of just that. Naturally, drinking a strange potion came with a certain amount of risk, but what he stood to gain seemed worth it.

The potion itself had tasted metallic and earthy. It hadn't felt like a liquid at all. Had it not felt as if something was suddenly crawling around inside his skull, he would have guessed it had simply evaporated.

Understandably, he had started feel uncomfortable at that point. His eyes began to burn dully and then sharper, more distinct pains had followed. Soon slight discomfort was becoming absolute agony. It was as if his eyes were being cannibalized by whatever this thing was, creeping around inside his head.

After that he hadn't been aware of much. He had heard Harry coming closer and shoved him away as hard as he could manage. Immediately he regretted the act; he would have much rather punched him. Fucking, Potter, he thought over the pain, furiously. I should have known better than to take anything that idiot made himself.

Somewhere, Malfoy thought he heard voices, but his senses were far too overwhelmed to be sure. He lost any idea of where his body was. He could have still been standing up (though he doubted it) or lying down or flying for all he knew or cared. That disconnection slowly became more pronounced and, for a moment, Malfoy feared he might be dead.

The fear was a brief one. From the way Malfoy had always understood it, death is a pretty definite line. Either you are or you aren't, and if he was then the worst of it was over. That notion was dismissed quickly as his eyes began to sting again. No, he wasn't dead but at this point that wasn't saying a lot.

Luckily the pain had dulled again. It was merely uncomfortable once more and, Malfoy decided, felt a lot like liquid. It wasn't blood; he'd felt that earlier, warm and sticky on his cheeks. It felt as if something was spidering from the back of his eyes to the front, enveloping them in something vaguely wet and silky.

The world around him suddenly felt much cooler now, and though his eyes were closed, he was sure he saw impressions of shapes in front of him. They were fleeting and continuously moving and changing like the after-image you get from staring at a light for too long. For a moment, Malfoy was sure he had just seen the face of his father. Everything went dark again almost immediately. Nothing felt uncomfortable, save for the hard floor beneath him.

Malfoy tried to open his eyes at that point, and the world flashed an alarming white. Immediately, his hopes began to sink. Did that mean all of that pain had been for nothing? He tried to open his eyes again and managed to do so more successfully this time.

The world was still white and blank but, darkness begin to drip slowly back into his range of vision. It wasn't quite like being blind. Malfoy was sure he saw an occasional light flicker past. Even the darkness seemed softer, more like a black backdrop than the nothingness of before. Whatever it was, it wasn't what he had hoped for.

"Malfoy?"

Draco sat up, facing the direction in which he had heard Harry's voice. The coin in his pocket caught what Harry had said and for a moment he could "see" the outline of the room and Ron and Hermione near him. He realized Harry was directly ahead and reached out in that direction, nervously. Hitting him could wait until later.

"Can you see anything?" Harry asked, resting a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"No," Malfoy said uncertainly. The lights were difficult to ignore however, and the longer he faced Harry, the more he thought he saw a faint, silver outline around him, even without the aide of the coin. "It didn't work."

"I told you it wouldn't-"

"Shut up, Hermione!"

Malfoy wasn't sure if Harry sounded angry or distraught. Normally the outburst would have just amused him, as it generally did when he heard these new traveling companions of his arguing amongst themselves. Instead, he found himself focusing upon something past the silvery outline of Harry. It was something gloomily familiar; something large and hulking and dangerous. It was darker than the other blackness and looming threateningly only a few feet away. Malfoy found himself moving back as the creature shifted its weight, moving forward.

Malfoy's first and only urge was to get as far away from it as he possibly could. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed to the door in a panic. His footsteps alone created enough noise for the coin to guide him, though glimpses of lights and dark writhing figures were proving to be more than a little distracting.

Rushing into what he hoped was his bedroom on the second floor, Malfoy finally stopped. He slammed the door and closed his eyes, not caring to see if anything was there with him. For the first time since he had woken up, confused, at the Burrow, Malfoy actually wished to be blind. The normal nothingness that returned when he kept his eyes closed was welcome and, as far as he was concerned, could stay there from this point on.

The urge to hit Harry was still there, but so was something kin to guilt. After all they had done for him – or at least all Potter had tried to do for him – how could he have left him there with that monster? The answer came to Draco without requiring much thought. The creature wouldn't hurt Harry, how could it? The Grim only foretold great calamity, it didn't cause it.

A/N: Ah, the Grim: a cuddly little death omen if ever there was one. You people didn't really think I was going to bring back Malfoy's sight, did you? Psah, mercy is for losers. Honestly, I planned on this happening earlier in the story, but my chapters never space out the way they look in my head. This is, actually, part of what spurred me to name the story, Caliginosity.

Is everyone ready for book seven? I'm not. I can't help but think back fondly to reading the first Harry Potter book as a little girl. It was before I had made the decision to leave my father behind and was still subjected to hanging around this drunk and the girlfriend half his age, who hated me.

I couldn't help but feel sympathetic with Harry, at home under the stairs as I sat reading in what was left of my bedroom once the girlfriend had had her way with the house (a mattress on the floor of the portion of the house used as a storage room.). Harry Potter was a welcome escape through the years and troubles that followed, bullying at school, anorexia, and an abusive relationship with my mother (who has, since before my last update, fallen back off the proverbial wagon.). I don't have any negative connections with the series, on the contrary it's something I still go back to when I'm feeling down.

It makes me sad to think that in a couple of days it will all be over. Sure, we'll have the movies to look forward to, but it isn't quite the same now that we'll all know how it ends. Of course, this had to happen some day, and I'm looking forward to getting my hands on the copy I've had ordered for months, but it's still saddening.

With any luck, Deathly Hallows with be all we hope it will be. Until then, stay away from all those leaks! I don't think anyone of them are the real deal anyway. I was naughty and took a peak at some of the news stories about them. You'll be glad to know, they all sound rather fake.

Oh, and I want to say a big thank you to all my reviewers! The reviews for this last chapter practically doubled, and I'm thrilled. Even if you're not good at writing them, English isn't your first language, or any other number of reasons, I want to hear your feedback. Thanks, again! You can expect another update once I've had time to read DH.