Disclaimer: Wow, I woke up and found the rights to Harry Potter gift wrapped on my bed! Thanks ever-so-much JK! (Note the sarcasm. I do not actually own HP).

Summary: When our favorite little Gryffindor know-it-all starts to go both deaf and blind, how will she cope? Who will come to her rescue? And how will she be able to live with Malfoy?

Contents: Mostly DM/HG, with a bit of RW/LL and HP/GW.

Rating: It'll be T for know cause I'm not all into writing sex and stuff, but there will be cursing, violence, and adult stuff 'n all that crap. Woo-hoo.

A/N: Hiyas. Forgive me if this is a stupid idea – I just happen to really like DM/HG, and I just watched this really touching show on how people who are deaf and blind and dumb function in the real world, and the plot bunnies started to invade. So I just started to write this. If you like it, review and I'll update. If you don't, don't, and I'll probably just work on updating my other story; it's in long need of it.

Disabilities.

Chapter 1

A lot can happen in a day, huh?

"Hermione!"

7th year, stubborn-willed, know-it-all, Head Girl, and the Gryffindor Princess, Hermione Reina Granger Was totally out of it in Potion's class. She started as someone hissed in her ear, feeling the sharp poke of someone's finger in her side. She dragged her eyes from the paper she'd been doodling on to the face of her tablemate; today it was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Oblivious-To-Her-Affection. At the blank look on his friend's face, Harry knew she hadn't heard a word of what was going on in class – obviously, since Snape had called her name three times, and was even now billowing towards them like the slimy bat he really was.

"What is it Harry?"

She was seriously clueless; it was only the first day of classes, but this had been happening all day – and it wasn't even dinner yet! Harry and Ron, who was sitting in the row behind them, traded worried looks. Harry shook his head, and muttered quickly, "You spaced out. Snivellus called your name three times."

"Indeed, 'Snivellus' has. 15 points from Gryffindor for mocking a teacher." The greasy Potions Master glared down at them with open contempt, ignoring the mutterings of the other Gryffindors in the class. Harry met him glare-for-glare "Miss Granger, have you perhaps been the victim of an ill-placed hex, perhaps fired by Longbottom or Weasley during your early Charms lesson, considering their incredibly poor aim?" Poor Neville looked like he was about to faint as his name was mentioned; Sean was putting a restraining hand on Ron's shoulder. "25 points for failing to respond to a teacher – and from now on, try to be more… responsive." The Professor sneered at them, and returned to the front of the class. Harry shook his head

"Bad luck mate; but Smellyvus does have a point. Where have you been all day? It's like you left your brain at home or something."

If only he knew.

Hermione chuckled, but Harry was worried to hear bitterness and quite a bit of sorrow in that laugh. "It's nothing Harry, I've just been distracted – y'know, this year's NEWTs and all." The emerald-eyed boy gave her a funny look. NEWTs weren't until the end of the year, but he just shrugged, and passed it off as one of those Hermione things.

If only he really knew the truth.

In the silences of her mind, Hermione laughed at herself, bitterly. The truth? It wasn't even all that bad. The truth was that simply, she was going deaf, and blind. Yup, that's right, you heard me – deaf and blind. D-E-A-F and B-L-I-N-D. As in, can no longer hear the world around her, can no longer see, completely, totally and utterly helpless. It was some obscure strange disease that she couldn't even remember the name of from day to day – she'd had it since childhood. But having had none of the effects before, her parents and her muggle doctors had hoped she would never be affected. Unfortunately, this wasn't the case; towards the end of her 6th year she'd slowly been losing her hearing, having to ask people to repeat themselves or speak up, and had constantly been rubbing her eyes; the stress of trying to see was making them ache. She'd passed it of as the effects of studying, and her friends had left it at that. But it had gotten worse over the summer; in fact, it was worse than worse. Her sight had already pretty much abandoned her, and her hearing would be gone by the end of the year. She'd discreetly gotten contacts, and with the aid of St. Mungo's had gotten a spell to aid one's hearing. But not even the infamous Healers could cure her – it was too complicated, involving miniscule parts of her brain that would be deadly dangerous to try and fix. And despite her condition, Hermione would rather loose sight and sound that die.

Her only comfort was that she had not lost her sight completely – it would be reduced beyond the help of glasses however. Specially spelled contacts made it possibly for her to function, but she had lost all sense of color, and it was like looking through a pane of wavy glass. But she could read, she could see faces, and she would be able to 'read' people's hands. She'd known muggle sign language almost since she could walk. She would be able to function in the world (well, the muggle one at least – she wouldn't be able to consistently live in the wizarding world. They had no place for the deaf and blind). But she wouldn't tell a soul.

She knew what would happen. First would be shock, horror. Next would come the avoiding, the carefully stumbling over words. And last, the pity – the part she hated most. She couldn't stand it. She was still a living breathing thinking human – she hadn't become a baby, a fragile piece of glass. She could be independent. She would never ever let anyone give her pity; she wouldn't let them make her out to be a cripple. She would stand on her own two feet. And so, she wouldn't tell a soul – not Harry or Ron, not even Ginny. The only one who knew was Dumbledore – she'd come crying to him last year when she found out what was happening. He was her father-away-from-home, comforting her and telling her everything would be all right, lending a shoulder to cry on and patting her comfortingly on the back. He helped her see through the problems, to the solution. She would get through school, and then slowly retreat to the muggle world, to live and work, only spending casual leisure time in the wizarding world. Things that wouldn't require intense scrutiny or sharp senses. And she would be out of the way of the Death Eaters; Harry had destroyed Voldemort last year in the Final Battle, but some of his minions had escaped, and there were rumors going around that they were trying to create a new order. Dumbledore had instantly considered the possibility that this new 'Dark King' as their unknown leader called himself, would use this to his advantage if he ever found out, that he would use it to get to himself, or to Harry. Hermione had agreed; that was why it was a secret. Even from Harry and Ron – it was for their safety.

But it still made her want to cry.

There were so many things she wanted to do, wanted to see, wanted to hear. Harry's first professional Quidditch game (know that You-Know-Who's threat had passed, the wizarding world was a much brighter, lighter place to live in, and everyone knew that the Appleby Arrows, the Chudley Cannons, and the Wimborne Wasps had all offered him the Seeker position as soon as he got out of school), Ron finally getting married to Luna Lovegood (he'd been mooning after her since 5th year)….finding someone to love. She was going to loose it all.

Harry politely ignored the silent tear that rolled down his friend's cheek, and simply tapped her on the shoulder to tell her that class was dismissed, and it was time to go to dinner.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Harry was truly worried about Hermione. She'd never been this quite, this sad before. And that tear in Potions – something was seriously up. And it bugged him more than anything that she refused to tell him. She'd always confided in him; she'd done so since they knew each other. They were brother and sister. And know she was in pain, and refused to say a word. But Harry knew better than to bug her; much as he wanted to know, Hermione would tell him in her own time. He would only manage to alienate her if he tried to pry the knowledge from her.

He kept an eye on her throughout dinner, reminding her to eat and even serving for her (she said she'd been looking forward to drinking good old Hogwarts pumpkin juice again but had fumbled when reaching for her glass), his brows furrowed and expression troubled. She was busy reading a book though, so he didn't worry too much – at least that was something normal. Hermione was always a little out of the loop when she was reading. And at the end of lunch, Dumbledore stood up. "Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, please see me in my office after you eat."

Harry wasn't surprised when someone had to repeat the message to Hermione. She nodded and scurried out the Great hall. Harry's eyes followed her the entire time. He was still looking troubled as he moved off towards the Gryffindor Tower. He and Ron were going to play chess; Harry knew he was going to loose. Keeping one eye on the door could do that to you.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione stumbled up the steps of the spiraling staircase to Dumbledore's office. She'd barked her shin when she failed to see a fallen suit of armor in the hallways, but had managed to reach the Headmaster's office otherwise unharmed. She opened the door and stepped in, flustered, flyaway bits of hair escaping from her neat braid to frame her heart-shaped face. Her brown eyes met cool silver. Or at least, she told herself they were silver (seeing as she wouldn't really know anymore, being colorblind) – just as she told herself Dumbledore's were blue when she shifted her gaze from Draco Malfoy's sneering face to his much kinder one.

Malfoy wasn't too bad really; after all, he'd finally come to his senses and become a spy for Dumbledore like Snape, crossing over into the light. But he and the Golden Trio were still at odds; seven years of hate doesn't disappear with a snap of the fingers. The Gryffindor girl tucked a piece of hair behind her ear with one small hand and stepped up to Dumbledore's desk, mumbling a hello to Fawkes and nodding to Albus. "You wanted to see us, Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, I did. Now, I understand the two of you are not on the… best of terms. And also that you both do not hate each other as much as you would have your classmates believe. I think we can use this to our advantage."

"Does this have a point to it?" Malfoy drawled. "We do have homework, and I have plans…" Hermione sent him a hateful glare, one he returned with a matching passion. No matter what the old man said, they really did hate each other. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice – he continued talking. Still watching Malfoy (discreetly) Hermione couldn't help but admit, in the back of her mind, that Lavender and Pavarti did have a point when they said how handsome he was. With those broad shoulders, that strong chest, powerfully arms, aristocratic face and silky white blonde hair with stormy gray eyes – she hated to admit it, but he was quite the eye candy. As if sensing her thoughts, those silver eyes turned on her with a smirk, looking her up and down. Like what you see? those eyes asked. Hermione felt a faint blush on her cheeks and whipped back to Dumbledore, anger burning in a demon in her chest. Ooooh, how lewd! He was just so… soo….. erg! She couldn't even think of something.

"Well Miss Granger? Do you agree?"

Oh no! She'd been busy ogling Malfoy (to her complete dismay)and had completely tuned Professor Dumbledore out! She mentally kicked herself. "Ah... of course Professor. I-I agree completely."

Those blue eyes twinkled at her, and she would swear on the oldest bible in her mother's collection that the smile on his lips was mischievous. "Good. Then you and Mr. Malfoy will be moving in together tonight."

"W-What!" Hermione's expression was horrified. Malfoy was choking himself to hold back chuckles – it was obvious she had no idea what she was agreeing to. "Living togerther, Granger – it's what Head students do. We move your things into a bedroom, and my things into a bedroom, and share a common room…. It's pretty simple. Really, does no one read Hogwarts: A History anymore?" It's a good thing looks couldn't kill, or Hermione would he slowly torturing Malfoy. Her hand was itching to grab her wand – so what if she accidentally hit something else in the room because of her sight? She would curse in a wide circle 'til she hit him. "Shove it, Ferret. I've read Hogwarts: A History more times than you can – oh wait, you can't count, can you? I'm sorry." Her smile was sickeningly sweet and completely malicious.

The Headmaster quickly intervened.

"Draco, Hermione, this is highly inappropriate. I am ashamed of both of you. You are presenting a new, united front to your classmates, and to the rest of the wizarding world. You have to be strong. You will have to get along. Behave, and apologize." And his sparkling eyes told the 7th year girl, And keep your secret to yourself. He has connections amongst the remaining Death Eaters. Even Dumbledore wouldn't trust him completely.

A few muttered apologies, more bickering, and several trips with house elves through the corridors, and many thrown insults, it was dark, and Malfoy and Hermione sat in their common room, a few leftover boxes piled around the walls. Harry and Ron had been told, via a school owl, and the Slytherins didn't really care about each other. The two were stuck together.

Alone.

Hermione flew to her room and buried her face in her pillow. This was going to be a rough year.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Review, please? I'll love you and give you cookies. Gracias.