Title: Darkness

Author: Gummy Flobberworm

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: This story contains mentions of homosexuality.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and events created and owned by J.K Rowling and various publishers. No infringement of copyright is intended.

Summary: H/D featuring blind Draco. 'In the end, there was only darkness. Yet through darkness, silence set in. And along came the cruelest lies.'

He lives in a world of darkness.

He sees nothing but a dull shade of black. Without even the ability to distinguish between the different intensities of light. In his world, everything is constant.

But there is something terribly exciting about it too. He can hear the faintest hum of next-door's oven, smell the aroma of the apple pie sizzling inside. Its something he's never quite experienced before. The tranquility of life.

He notices things he has never noticed before. Like how Harry leaves the house smelling like him and returns with the faintest tinge of a hangover potion, like the slight hesitance he takes on when he says 'I love you too'. And the salty smell of tears in the air that sometimes wafts to him when Harry is in the room.

Everyday, Harry returns at exactly seven o'clock. Dinner is already prepared, and he asks Harry how his day went. He notices the pause before he answers, 'just fine' and launches into a full-length account of his working day. Harry always speaks too fast and too much when he is lying.

Sometimes after dinner ends, he finds that the tablecloth is a little wet. It smells of salt.

They sit in the living room for the rest of the night. Every night, Harry reads the daily prophet to him, outlining articles that may interest him and amusing pieces from tabloids on the predictions of their war hero. He prefers to concentrate on his writing, but keeps quiet instead. He laughs when Colin Creevey predicts that Harry is now living in South Africa with Snape.

He can't help noticing that Harry's laughter sounds a little too mechanical and strained.

Bedtime comes at exactly 11pm. Harry leads him softly to the bed although he is already familiar with the apartment. They lay next to each other in silence. He hears only the soft sniffs coming from Harry. When they kiss, he tastes bitterness and desperation on his lips. Afterwards, Harry holds him so tightly he cannot breathe. He hears Harry tip-toeing out of bed to the study room after he thinks that he's asleep.

They used to argue over work late into the night.

The next morning, Harry is exceedingly cheerful. He always is in the morning; as if he believes the next day is always better. They discuss vacation plans over crumpets and coffee. All is fine until Harry knocks over the coffee mug. It falls onto the ground with a clang and shatters. Harry springs up from his sit and yells 'reparo' repeatedly almost maniacally, before letting out a dry sob and throwing his wand hard on the floor. He stoops down calmly, gathering the porcelain pieces, summons Harry's wand, and puts Harry back in his sit. Harry appears remorseful and apologizes repeatedly for his outbursts.

He asks if everything is fine. Harry shrugs and replies, 'just fine.'

He has been hearing from Hermione that Harry is facing trouble at work. Something about his irregular working days and sick leaves.

Harry stands up and brushes his lips briefly against his. His lips feel dried and cracked and his breathing is harsh, as if he is rapidly trying to gain his composure. He hears a pop, Harry has gone for work.

The house elf clears the dishes up and he goes up to his room. He pulls the shades open and feels the warm sunlight on his face. He knows what he will see outside, stretches of endless green plains and yellow daisies. Harry described the view to him when they first moved in.

Sometimes, he fears that he will forget what different shades of colours look like.

But he fears even more that Harry will forget what different shades of colours look like.

He removes the band from his ring finger. He lays the ring on the table, next to where he knows their photo is. He smiles slightly as he pushes open the front door of their house because there is nothing to be upset about. Outside, he bends down, gathers a handful of yellow daisies, only to realize there are only weeds, and apparates away.

In the end, there was only darkness. Yet through darkness, silence set in. And along came the cruelest lies.

Fin