Black Eyes
Chapter Two: Mnemosyne
by Capella
A/N: It's me again!
Just so you know, the time in Middle-earth and Hogwarts is sort of screwed up. It's a bit on the one-half side, so if Harry is in Middle-earth two days, that amounts to four or so days in Hogwarts.
And before you ask, no, Draco is not jealous. Er...well, perhaps just a bit. But it's mostly protectiveness. He's not thinking "oh no, that bad man has stolen away my boyfriend." It's more like, "that bad man is going to hurt Harry, who just so happens to be my ex." Right.
Just as a note -- Mnemosyne is the Greek Titan of memory. :)
Ahh -- it felt good, all the Draco and Harry interaction in this chapter. Actually, that's pretty much all it was. ...oh well!
And don't worry your ickle heads about Legolas, because he'll be in there in the next chapter, as seksi as ever. I'm not ignoring him. I lurve him. *cuddles*
Well, that's all from the peanut gallery this time. See you guys again soon!
Oh yeah, review, please? I can't tell you guys how much I like your reviews. Thanks!
____________________
"We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another. "
-- Luciano de Crescenzo
________________
In the moments following Harry's startling admission, there was a long period of silence. Hermione couldn't think of anything to say. Harry's lips were pressed together tightly in emotion, and his hand clenched the armrests of the chair so tightly that his knuckles were white. Hermione couldn't seem to stop staring at his eyes, which used to be a beautiful green but now a had a strange pale sheen.
"Harry -- how?" Hermione whispered. The question had started in her mind as a coherent thought, but somehow all she could get out now were those two words. She seemed to be doing better than Draco, who was staring at Harry with his mouth still open and his gray eyes wide.
Instead of answering, Harry looked down again. A voice from his left, a person who Hermione had completely forgotten was there, answered instead.
"We do not know," Legolas said quietly. "The day we arrived, Harry complained that his vision was getting blurry. And the next day, he was as you see him."
Draco had turned from gaping at Harry to gaping at Legolas. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Legolas. Harry and I met in Middle-earth." The elf seemed completely unfazed in the face of Draco's sudden suspicion.
"You," Draco breathed. "I was told about you."
Harry's milky-white stare was temporarily covered as he blinked in confusion. "Draco, what in the world are you talking about?"
"I was told about your boggart experience, Harry. And how this," he shot a venomous glare at Legolas, "was for some reason the subject of your worst fears. And you went off with him? For God's sake, Potter, do you ever think?"
Harry looked confused for a moment, and then relieved. "So you don't know about..." Harry trailed off into silence.
Draco frowned, glowering. "Know about what, Potter?" he asked suspiciously. Hermione saw Harry get that stubborn mule look that he always adopted when he was going to avoid a confrontation.
"Look, Draco, it's a long story. I'll tell you later, just -- just not now, okay? Please."
Draco gifted Legolas with one last poisonous look before he turned his attention back to Harry. "Fine," he snarled. "I don't care. What are you two doing here, anyway?"
Harry bit his lower lip. "After I -- I went blind, Legolas and I went to see Gandalf. But he couldn't fix my eyesight, and none of the Valar could, either. So, we came to see Dumbledore, since he is a --" Suddenly Harry seemed to catch himself, and he stopped. "A great wizard, I mean."
Dumbledore looked grim. "But I have performed all the possible spells and potions and medical remedies to fix eyesight, and none have worked. Do you possibly have any ideas, Miss Granger?"
Hermione shook her head, speechless. Never before had she heard of a problem that the Headmaster couldn't fix. It seemed -- almost impossible. She glanced over at Draco, who was looking a bit more like he usually did; his stunned, vulnerable expression had been replaced with his usual contemptuous air. For some reason, seeing him like that cleared her mind. Everything seemed a bit less unrealistic and a bit more normal. A bit, a least.
But she couldn't get Harry's eyes out of her mind.
Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately, I have a staff meeting in five minutes. If I do not get the opportunity to see you again, Harry, I wish you the best of luck." As the doors shut behind the Headmaster, Draco turned his attention back on Legolas.
"So," Draco drawled, only a hint of the earlier venom in his tone. "Now what are you two planning on doing? Are you going to stay here and look for a cure? But you know, Potter, I don't think that's really necessary. After all, Legolas could be of use -- you could always just use him as a seeing-eye elf."
Hermione saw Legolas's lips tighten in agitation, and she thought for a moment about warning Draco of the consequences of making a very dangerous warrior elf angry. But then she thought about it again. Perhaps it was time that Draco had some humility beat into him again, after all.
"Oh, will you stop already, Malfoy?" Harry said, obviously exasperated. "I didn't come here for this. I came here for a cure, and since there is none to be found, I'm leaving tonight. What you think is of no importance to me, whatsoever."
Draco's teeth were bared in a surprisingly animal-like snarl. Hermione realized that it was probably the most emotion she'd ever seen him show, and realized with a bit of amusement that Harry seemed to have that effect on everyone. "Fine," Draco snapped. "Leave. That seems to be one of your finest talents." With that parting blow, Draco stormed out, slamming the double wooden doors behind him. Harry looked almost stunned. Those unnerving faded green eyes were wide.
"Let's go, Harry," Legolas said softly and walked over to where Harry was standing, taking hold of one of Harry's arms. Harry seemed to snap out of his daze, and he shook his head ruefully.
"No," he said. "I have to talk to him. He's right about a few things, sometimes. And we do have some -- unresolved issues -- that I have to get out of the way. After that, we can leave. You can wait for me here, and Hermione can take me to the Slytherin common room."
Legolas took his hand off Harry's arm, an unhappy look on his face. "But --"
Hermione blinked. "I can?" How did he know that she'd been there before? Harry smiled, the beauty of which was diminished slightly since he was peering off to the right of Hermione. Legolas sat in a chair and watched Harry carefully.
"I've known about you and Blaise since sixth year, Hermione. I --" Harry seemed as if he was going to go on, but he stopped abruptly and his smile faded.
"And how did you find out about that?" she asked cautiously. He sighed, and then shrugged.
"After we broke up, Draco asked to use my cloak to go meet Blaise in the Astronomy Tower. I gave the cloak to him, but I got jealous, which I think was what he meant to do all along. I went to tell Blaise not to go, and he was surprised, to say the least." The corner of Harry's mouth twitched up, a shadow of his former smile. "It turns out that he was going to the Tower that night, but not with Draco. With you."
Hermione gaped.
"So, are you going to take me to the Slytherin common room or not?"
"Sure," she said, and since he couldn't see her smile, she put a gentle hand on his arm. For the first time, she saw how vulnerable he had become with his blindness, and he groped for her hand and grasped onto it like a drowning man. Hermione's logical mind suddenly came up with a plan.
"Harry, since you became blind, have you tried walking by yourself?"
Harry's face became slightly panicked. "No," he whispered. "You -- you're not going to make me, are you?"
Hermione took a deep breath. "Yes," she said firmly. "I want you to try and walk to the Slytherin dorm room without me holding on to you."
If possible, Harry looked even more frightened. "I can't," he protested. "Everyone -- everyone will see me!"
"It's late," Hermione corrected gently. "Everyone is in their dorms. No one will see you. Trust me."
"Okay," Harry said. "Okay. But let's do it before I lose my nerve." He kept his hand grasped tightly in Hermione's until she let go. She took a few steps back. Once she had let his hand go, the panicked look came back onto his face.
"Come on, Harry," Hermione said loudly. "Walk towards my voice. I'm right here."
"I can't do this, Hermione," he said, voice shaking. His head was bent towards the floor and his eyelashes were wet with tears. His hands were spread out in front of him. "I can't."
"Yes, you can. You've been in this office thousands of times. There are no obstacles in front of you. You have other senses than your sight, Harry." She let her voice get harder. "Have you forgotten how to walk?"
Harry blinked, and then took a deep breath. He shuffled forward, back bent slightly, hands out in front of him. His eyes, seeing nothing, were staring out at nothing. He stopped after a few moments, and his face was white with fear and strain.
Hermione heard a small sound behind her, and glanced back to see Legolas gripping the arms of his chair with tears in his eyes, already half out of the chair. He seemed about ready to leap up and help Harry, but with a hand motion from Hermione he sat back down reluctantly.
"Come on, Harry. You're not to me yet."
Harry shuffled forward again, slowly, like an old man with arthritis. Finally, his left hand bumped into Hermione's stomach and his right hand touched the solid wood of the office door. Hermione grasped Harry's hand gently with her own.
Hermione smiled. "Good. Now, can you do that all the way to the Slytherin dorm room?"
Hermione could almost hear Harry's teeth grinding at her tone -- what one used to talk to the very small or the very slow. "Yes, Hermione," he said, but there was still uncertainty in his voice, and Hermione noted that the tears were not gone from his eyes. She opened the door.
"Use your other senses, Harry, and listen to my voice. There's no obstacles in your way and I'll tell you about stairs." She walked backwards twenty steps, making sure to step loudly, and stopped. "Walk towards me."
Harry's head was turned slightly to the right, as if cocking his ear to hear her better. He bit his lower lip, and took one step forward. As soon as his foot landed, he blinked, hands outstretched and moving around himself.
"I don't -- I can't do it, Hermione. I can't. I swear to God, I can't do this."
"You can, Harry! You can. I'm just a few steps in front of you. There's no stairs. You can do it."
Hermione could see Harry's chest heaving with his racing, shallow breaths. "Okay," he said, and took a few shaky steps forward, his feet barely leaving the floor. Hermione waited patiently, talking to him occasionally or stomping her feet to let him know where she was. Finally he reached her.
"That was great, Harry," she said, making sure to put the happiness in her voice. But he only turned his head away, and she could see a tear drop onto the floor.
"What am I going to do, Hermione?" he asked. His face was twisted with anguish. "I can't function like this. I can't do anything like this. I -- what am I going to do?"
For a moment she didn't know what to say. He felt her hesitation and he shut his eyes in despair, fisting his hand in the front of her sweater. Then somehow, the right words to say came to her.
"Harry, I know you're stronger than this. This blindness -- Muggles live with it every day and they get along fine. And you don't know if it will last forever. It might not. And even if it does -- there are spells, pointing spells and navigation spells and I just bet that there's some things that we can find out in the library to help you. Just don't give up, Harry. We can get around this, I swear. Please."
"I don't know," he said, but she could see that she had given him at least a little amount of hope. "But -- I'm ready to try it again."
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"All right, we're here, Harry."
Harry remembered suddenly a drill that he had practiced in the dueling club, last year, against Draco. They had been practicing repelling temporary affliction spells, and Harry had been hit with a blindness spell right after he'd hit Draco with a jellylegs curse. Those few seconds, trapped in pitch blackness with no way to fight himself back to safety, had been the worst moments of his life. He had never told Ron or Hermione, but he could not remember a time when he was more frightened than during those black moments under the spell.
He never dreamed that he'd be caught in what seemed like a living nightmare.
"Harry, are you listening to me?"
What he hated worst -- at least, one of the things he hated most -- was how scared he felt. Even during his imprisonment he'd never felt quite like this. Then, there had been the glimmer of hope that he could escape, but now...nothing.
A hand landed on his arm, and he flinched, drawing back violently. God -- who was it -- he couldn't see! --
"Harry? Are you all right?"
Harry could hear the sounds of his own labored breathing echoing through the dungeon hall -- or at least, what he assumed was the dungeon hall. It felt different down here, something he hadn't noticed before, a sort of claustrophobic, damp feeling. He didn't like it. It felt a little too much like somewhere he'd been before, and for one panicked moment he imagined he was back in Mordor, in the dungeon, waiting for another of Sauron's visits. Then he felt the gentleness of Hermione's hand on his forearm, and the nightmare vanished.
"Are we in the dungeons?" he asked, keeping his voice steady. He almost could anticipate what Hermione was doing, even though all he could see was darkness. She would nod, then realize that he couldn't see what she was doing. Then she'd speak --
"We're outside of the common room."
All of a sudden Harry felt a bit of panic overtake him. "I can't go in there, Hermione. They'll see -- I can't let anyone know, Hermione!"
"It's okay! Calm down, I'll go in and get Draco. He rooms with Blaise. Wait right here."
Hermione's hand left him, and he heard her speak the password. Then all he could hear was his own breathing and the soft sound of water dripping somewhere. And he was bereft of a guide in a desert of nothing but pitch blackness. Slowly, he backed up until his back hit a wall, and there he slid to the floor, shutting his eyes and pretending that the darkness he was trapped in was nothing but a dream.
Suddenly there was a loud creak and slam as the common room doors opened and shut softly, and Harry heard Hermione's footsteps walk toward him. With a sense of accomplishment he realized that he'd recognized Hermione from only the weight she placed on each step and by the sound of her shoes. It was a start, at least.
"Draco said he will be out in a bit," Hermione said. He could almost imagine her biting her lip, before she asked: "Do you want me to wait for you? I don't know -- I can't imagine him wanting to walk you back to the Gryffindor common room, or having the patience to. I'll just wait around the corner. Yell at me when you're ready."
Without another word, he heard her shoes click off and turn a corner somewhere to his distant right. Without another person near him, hysteria began to press down on him again; and then, the common room doors opened.
"It's me, Potter."
"I know that," Harry snapped, nerves already on edge. "I heard you. I'm blind, not stupid."
A silence followed that was almost tangible. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, using the wall at his back to slowly make his way to his feet.
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you -- I came here to do the exact opposite."
Draco sounded suspicious. "You did?" Harry knew exactly what he was doing; he could almost picture Draco standing there, feet slightly apart, arms crossed and brows furrowed, maybe chewing on his lower lip like he always had done when he was being serious. "For what?"
For not trusting you. "For the way I acted in Dumbledore's office." I didn't mean to hurt you. "I didn't meant to say it that way. I should have listened to you."
Harry could hear Draco's voice soften when he spoke next. "I suppose I didn't act like an angel, either. I just -- I met this girl outside, before I went to Dumbledore's. She was there during your boggart presentation, and she saw what the boggart transformed into. I made the connection. Maybe it wasn't such a good one." He paused. "Although I still don't trust him."
Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Draco. I --"
"I want to go with you."
The admission seemed to have been torn from Draco's throat without his permission and given life in the dank, dungeon hall. In the silence that followed, Harry could hear Draco's loud, unsteady breathing. Or was it his own?
"What?" he asked, unable to believe what he had heard.
"Nothing. Forget it, Potter." Was it his imagination, or had Draco sounded hurt? Harry heard Draco's footsteps stalk off in his characteristic long-strided swagger. With a sudden certainty, Harry knew that if Draco walked away now, Harry would never talk to him again.
"You know," Harry said softly, with the same amount of sincerity that Draco had given his earlier unwilling admission, "I used to love watching the way your cloak billowed out behind you when you walked. Especially when you were angry." Harry heard Draco's footsteps stop, and slowly turn.
"You did?" Draco said, his voice uncertain for once.
"Yes." Harry smiled. "You always looked like such a tyrant."
"Did I really," Draco said, pretending offense, though Harry could tell he was pleased. But when he spoke again, his voice was guarded. "I suppose you weren't so wrong after all."
Harry drew a sharp breath. "Look, Draco --"
"What happened?" Draco whispered. Harry had never heard him sound so vulnerable. It was faintly unnerving. "Why didn't you trust me enough?"
"Draco, it was just -- we were all tense from the war, and after the attack I just suspected everyone, I guess."
"But I was the only person from a different house who knew the password to the Gryffindor dorm room, wasn't I?" When Harry opened his mouth to protest, Draco cut him off sharply. "Forgive me. What I meant to say was that I was the only one who knew the dorm room and had a Dark Mark."
Those words cut into Harry like a knife. He started to apologize, to say otherwise -- but he realized that had been exactly the case. During one of Voldemort's many uprisings, there had been a curse put on one of the Gryffindor rooms -- specifically, the sixth year dorm room -- Harry's own. The hex, a particularly vicious curse that somehow caused the blood in the body to bleed through one's pores, had killed one of his best friends. Dean. And Harry had suspected the first person who came to mind, whose father was a famous Death Eater. And who had the Dark Mark on his arm.
"Draco -- I never meant to hurt you, I swear --"
"God damn it, Harry, you accused me of killing one of your friends. You accused me of sleeping with you so that I could turn you over to Voldemort! And you expected me not to be hurt? They found the killer a month later, Harry. You still wouldn't speak to me."
"I --" For the life of him, Harry couldn't think of anything to say. But Draco continued bitterly, ignoring him.
"And then you started going out with the Weasel." The scorn and contempt in Draco's voice this time was not only for Ron, but for Harry as well. "You flaunted it in my face, Potter, and don't pretend you didn't mean to."
At least this time Harry had some ammunition of his own. "Well, at least I didn't try and make you jealous with some childish trick. You didn't even meet Blaise in the Astronomy Tower, Draco. He was seeing Hermione. He told me."
If possible, Draco sounded even more furious than he had before. "I'm not going to sit here and argue with you, Potter. If you don't need anything else, I'm leaving."
"Wait," he said, before Draco could leave again. "Do you really want to come back to Middle-earth with Legolas and me?"
Draco hesitated a moment before replying. "Yes," he said quietly. And then: "But your elf doesn't have to get himself worked up into a jealous lather. I'm not interested in you, anyway. I just want to keep an eye on that elf and make sure that you figure out how to get your sight back, is all."
Harry had to smile at Draco's defensiveness. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you. But if you want to come, meet Legolas and I in Dumbledore's office tomorrow morning at around eight." He heard Draco's footsteps turn to walk back to the common room.
"Oh, and Draco? Thanks."
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A/N: *pops open a Mr Pibb and puts feet on desk* Ahhh, I love Harry/Draco interaction. But it was strange having them argue and I couldn't tell anything about what Draco looked like, only what he sounded like. Oh well. He was hot and pissed, let's leave it at that, shall we?
Chapter Two: Mnemosyne
by Capella
A/N: It's me again!
Just so you know, the time in Middle-earth and Hogwarts is sort of screwed up. It's a bit on the one-half side, so if Harry is in Middle-earth two days, that amounts to four or so days in Hogwarts.
And before you ask, no, Draco is not jealous. Er...well, perhaps just a bit. But it's mostly protectiveness. He's not thinking "oh no, that bad man has stolen away my boyfriend." It's more like, "that bad man is going to hurt Harry, who just so happens to be my ex." Right.
Just as a note -- Mnemosyne is the Greek Titan of memory. :)
Ahh -- it felt good, all the Draco and Harry interaction in this chapter. Actually, that's pretty much all it was. ...oh well!
And don't worry your ickle heads about Legolas, because he'll be in there in the next chapter, as seksi as ever. I'm not ignoring him. I lurve him. *cuddles*
Well, that's all from the peanut gallery this time. See you guys again soon!
Oh yeah, review, please? I can't tell you guys how much I like your reviews. Thanks!
____________________
"We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another. "
-- Luciano de Crescenzo
________________
In the moments following Harry's startling admission, there was a long period of silence. Hermione couldn't think of anything to say. Harry's lips were pressed together tightly in emotion, and his hand clenched the armrests of the chair so tightly that his knuckles were white. Hermione couldn't seem to stop staring at his eyes, which used to be a beautiful green but now a had a strange pale sheen.
"Harry -- how?" Hermione whispered. The question had started in her mind as a coherent thought, but somehow all she could get out now were those two words. She seemed to be doing better than Draco, who was staring at Harry with his mouth still open and his gray eyes wide.
Instead of answering, Harry looked down again. A voice from his left, a person who Hermione had completely forgotten was there, answered instead.
"We do not know," Legolas said quietly. "The day we arrived, Harry complained that his vision was getting blurry. And the next day, he was as you see him."
Draco had turned from gaping at Harry to gaping at Legolas. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Legolas. Harry and I met in Middle-earth." The elf seemed completely unfazed in the face of Draco's sudden suspicion.
"You," Draco breathed. "I was told about you."
Harry's milky-white stare was temporarily covered as he blinked in confusion. "Draco, what in the world are you talking about?"
"I was told about your boggart experience, Harry. And how this," he shot a venomous glare at Legolas, "was for some reason the subject of your worst fears. And you went off with him? For God's sake, Potter, do you ever think?"
Harry looked confused for a moment, and then relieved. "So you don't know about..." Harry trailed off into silence.
Draco frowned, glowering. "Know about what, Potter?" he asked suspiciously. Hermione saw Harry get that stubborn mule look that he always adopted when he was going to avoid a confrontation.
"Look, Draco, it's a long story. I'll tell you later, just -- just not now, okay? Please."
Draco gifted Legolas with one last poisonous look before he turned his attention back to Harry. "Fine," he snarled. "I don't care. What are you two doing here, anyway?"
Harry bit his lower lip. "After I -- I went blind, Legolas and I went to see Gandalf. But he couldn't fix my eyesight, and none of the Valar could, either. So, we came to see Dumbledore, since he is a --" Suddenly Harry seemed to catch himself, and he stopped. "A great wizard, I mean."
Dumbledore looked grim. "But I have performed all the possible spells and potions and medical remedies to fix eyesight, and none have worked. Do you possibly have any ideas, Miss Granger?"
Hermione shook her head, speechless. Never before had she heard of a problem that the Headmaster couldn't fix. It seemed -- almost impossible. She glanced over at Draco, who was looking a bit more like he usually did; his stunned, vulnerable expression had been replaced with his usual contemptuous air. For some reason, seeing him like that cleared her mind. Everything seemed a bit less unrealistic and a bit more normal. A bit, a least.
But she couldn't get Harry's eyes out of her mind.
Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately, I have a staff meeting in five minutes. If I do not get the opportunity to see you again, Harry, I wish you the best of luck." As the doors shut behind the Headmaster, Draco turned his attention back on Legolas.
"So," Draco drawled, only a hint of the earlier venom in his tone. "Now what are you two planning on doing? Are you going to stay here and look for a cure? But you know, Potter, I don't think that's really necessary. After all, Legolas could be of use -- you could always just use him as a seeing-eye elf."
Hermione saw Legolas's lips tighten in agitation, and she thought for a moment about warning Draco of the consequences of making a very dangerous warrior elf angry. But then she thought about it again. Perhaps it was time that Draco had some humility beat into him again, after all.
"Oh, will you stop already, Malfoy?" Harry said, obviously exasperated. "I didn't come here for this. I came here for a cure, and since there is none to be found, I'm leaving tonight. What you think is of no importance to me, whatsoever."
Draco's teeth were bared in a surprisingly animal-like snarl. Hermione realized that it was probably the most emotion she'd ever seen him show, and realized with a bit of amusement that Harry seemed to have that effect on everyone. "Fine," Draco snapped. "Leave. That seems to be one of your finest talents." With that parting blow, Draco stormed out, slamming the double wooden doors behind him. Harry looked almost stunned. Those unnerving faded green eyes were wide.
"Let's go, Harry," Legolas said softly and walked over to where Harry was standing, taking hold of one of Harry's arms. Harry seemed to snap out of his daze, and he shook his head ruefully.
"No," he said. "I have to talk to him. He's right about a few things, sometimes. And we do have some -- unresolved issues -- that I have to get out of the way. After that, we can leave. You can wait for me here, and Hermione can take me to the Slytherin common room."
Legolas took his hand off Harry's arm, an unhappy look on his face. "But --"
Hermione blinked. "I can?" How did he know that she'd been there before? Harry smiled, the beauty of which was diminished slightly since he was peering off to the right of Hermione. Legolas sat in a chair and watched Harry carefully.
"I've known about you and Blaise since sixth year, Hermione. I --" Harry seemed as if he was going to go on, but he stopped abruptly and his smile faded.
"And how did you find out about that?" she asked cautiously. He sighed, and then shrugged.
"After we broke up, Draco asked to use my cloak to go meet Blaise in the Astronomy Tower. I gave the cloak to him, but I got jealous, which I think was what he meant to do all along. I went to tell Blaise not to go, and he was surprised, to say the least." The corner of Harry's mouth twitched up, a shadow of his former smile. "It turns out that he was going to the Tower that night, but not with Draco. With you."
Hermione gaped.
"So, are you going to take me to the Slytherin common room or not?"
"Sure," she said, and since he couldn't see her smile, she put a gentle hand on his arm. For the first time, she saw how vulnerable he had become with his blindness, and he groped for her hand and grasped onto it like a drowning man. Hermione's logical mind suddenly came up with a plan.
"Harry, since you became blind, have you tried walking by yourself?"
Harry's face became slightly panicked. "No," he whispered. "You -- you're not going to make me, are you?"
Hermione took a deep breath. "Yes," she said firmly. "I want you to try and walk to the Slytherin dorm room without me holding on to you."
If possible, Harry looked even more frightened. "I can't," he protested. "Everyone -- everyone will see me!"
"It's late," Hermione corrected gently. "Everyone is in their dorms. No one will see you. Trust me."
"Okay," Harry said. "Okay. But let's do it before I lose my nerve." He kept his hand grasped tightly in Hermione's until she let go. She took a few steps back. Once she had let his hand go, the panicked look came back onto his face.
"Come on, Harry," Hermione said loudly. "Walk towards my voice. I'm right here."
"I can't do this, Hermione," he said, voice shaking. His head was bent towards the floor and his eyelashes were wet with tears. His hands were spread out in front of him. "I can't."
"Yes, you can. You've been in this office thousands of times. There are no obstacles in front of you. You have other senses than your sight, Harry." She let her voice get harder. "Have you forgotten how to walk?"
Harry blinked, and then took a deep breath. He shuffled forward, back bent slightly, hands out in front of him. His eyes, seeing nothing, were staring out at nothing. He stopped after a few moments, and his face was white with fear and strain.
Hermione heard a small sound behind her, and glanced back to see Legolas gripping the arms of his chair with tears in his eyes, already half out of the chair. He seemed about ready to leap up and help Harry, but with a hand motion from Hermione he sat back down reluctantly.
"Come on, Harry. You're not to me yet."
Harry shuffled forward again, slowly, like an old man with arthritis. Finally, his left hand bumped into Hermione's stomach and his right hand touched the solid wood of the office door. Hermione grasped Harry's hand gently with her own.
Hermione smiled. "Good. Now, can you do that all the way to the Slytherin dorm room?"
Hermione could almost hear Harry's teeth grinding at her tone -- what one used to talk to the very small or the very slow. "Yes, Hermione," he said, but there was still uncertainty in his voice, and Hermione noted that the tears were not gone from his eyes. She opened the door.
"Use your other senses, Harry, and listen to my voice. There's no obstacles in your way and I'll tell you about stairs." She walked backwards twenty steps, making sure to step loudly, and stopped. "Walk towards me."
Harry's head was turned slightly to the right, as if cocking his ear to hear her better. He bit his lower lip, and took one step forward. As soon as his foot landed, he blinked, hands outstretched and moving around himself.
"I don't -- I can't do it, Hermione. I can't. I swear to God, I can't do this."
"You can, Harry! You can. I'm just a few steps in front of you. There's no stairs. You can do it."
Hermione could see Harry's chest heaving with his racing, shallow breaths. "Okay," he said, and took a few shaky steps forward, his feet barely leaving the floor. Hermione waited patiently, talking to him occasionally or stomping her feet to let him know where she was. Finally he reached her.
"That was great, Harry," she said, making sure to put the happiness in her voice. But he only turned his head away, and she could see a tear drop onto the floor.
"What am I going to do, Hermione?" he asked. His face was twisted with anguish. "I can't function like this. I can't do anything like this. I -- what am I going to do?"
For a moment she didn't know what to say. He felt her hesitation and he shut his eyes in despair, fisting his hand in the front of her sweater. Then somehow, the right words to say came to her.
"Harry, I know you're stronger than this. This blindness -- Muggles live with it every day and they get along fine. And you don't know if it will last forever. It might not. And even if it does -- there are spells, pointing spells and navigation spells and I just bet that there's some things that we can find out in the library to help you. Just don't give up, Harry. We can get around this, I swear. Please."
"I don't know," he said, but she could see that she had given him at least a little amount of hope. "But -- I'm ready to try it again."
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"All right, we're here, Harry."
Harry remembered suddenly a drill that he had practiced in the dueling club, last year, against Draco. They had been practicing repelling temporary affliction spells, and Harry had been hit with a blindness spell right after he'd hit Draco with a jellylegs curse. Those few seconds, trapped in pitch blackness with no way to fight himself back to safety, had been the worst moments of his life. He had never told Ron or Hermione, but he could not remember a time when he was more frightened than during those black moments under the spell.
He never dreamed that he'd be caught in what seemed like a living nightmare.
"Harry, are you listening to me?"
What he hated worst -- at least, one of the things he hated most -- was how scared he felt. Even during his imprisonment he'd never felt quite like this. Then, there had been the glimmer of hope that he could escape, but now...nothing.
A hand landed on his arm, and he flinched, drawing back violently. God -- who was it -- he couldn't see! --
"Harry? Are you all right?"
Harry could hear the sounds of his own labored breathing echoing through the dungeon hall -- or at least, what he assumed was the dungeon hall. It felt different down here, something he hadn't noticed before, a sort of claustrophobic, damp feeling. He didn't like it. It felt a little too much like somewhere he'd been before, and for one panicked moment he imagined he was back in Mordor, in the dungeon, waiting for another of Sauron's visits. Then he felt the gentleness of Hermione's hand on his forearm, and the nightmare vanished.
"Are we in the dungeons?" he asked, keeping his voice steady. He almost could anticipate what Hermione was doing, even though all he could see was darkness. She would nod, then realize that he couldn't see what she was doing. Then she'd speak --
"We're outside of the common room."
All of a sudden Harry felt a bit of panic overtake him. "I can't go in there, Hermione. They'll see -- I can't let anyone know, Hermione!"
"It's okay! Calm down, I'll go in and get Draco. He rooms with Blaise. Wait right here."
Hermione's hand left him, and he heard her speak the password. Then all he could hear was his own breathing and the soft sound of water dripping somewhere. And he was bereft of a guide in a desert of nothing but pitch blackness. Slowly, he backed up until his back hit a wall, and there he slid to the floor, shutting his eyes and pretending that the darkness he was trapped in was nothing but a dream.
Suddenly there was a loud creak and slam as the common room doors opened and shut softly, and Harry heard Hermione's footsteps walk toward him. With a sense of accomplishment he realized that he'd recognized Hermione from only the weight she placed on each step and by the sound of her shoes. It was a start, at least.
"Draco said he will be out in a bit," Hermione said. He could almost imagine her biting her lip, before she asked: "Do you want me to wait for you? I don't know -- I can't imagine him wanting to walk you back to the Gryffindor common room, or having the patience to. I'll just wait around the corner. Yell at me when you're ready."
Without another word, he heard her shoes click off and turn a corner somewhere to his distant right. Without another person near him, hysteria began to press down on him again; and then, the common room doors opened.
"It's me, Potter."
"I know that," Harry snapped, nerves already on edge. "I heard you. I'm blind, not stupid."
A silence followed that was almost tangible. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, using the wall at his back to slowly make his way to his feet.
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you -- I came here to do the exact opposite."
Draco sounded suspicious. "You did?" Harry knew exactly what he was doing; he could almost picture Draco standing there, feet slightly apart, arms crossed and brows furrowed, maybe chewing on his lower lip like he always had done when he was being serious. "For what?"
For not trusting you. "For the way I acted in Dumbledore's office." I didn't mean to hurt you. "I didn't meant to say it that way. I should have listened to you."
Harry could hear Draco's voice soften when he spoke next. "I suppose I didn't act like an angel, either. I just -- I met this girl outside, before I went to Dumbledore's. She was there during your boggart presentation, and she saw what the boggart transformed into. I made the connection. Maybe it wasn't such a good one." He paused. "Although I still don't trust him."
Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Draco. I --"
"I want to go with you."
The admission seemed to have been torn from Draco's throat without his permission and given life in the dank, dungeon hall. In the silence that followed, Harry could hear Draco's loud, unsteady breathing. Or was it his own?
"What?" he asked, unable to believe what he had heard.
"Nothing. Forget it, Potter." Was it his imagination, or had Draco sounded hurt? Harry heard Draco's footsteps stalk off in his characteristic long-strided swagger. With a sudden certainty, Harry knew that if Draco walked away now, Harry would never talk to him again.
"You know," Harry said softly, with the same amount of sincerity that Draco had given his earlier unwilling admission, "I used to love watching the way your cloak billowed out behind you when you walked. Especially when you were angry." Harry heard Draco's footsteps stop, and slowly turn.
"You did?" Draco said, his voice uncertain for once.
"Yes." Harry smiled. "You always looked like such a tyrant."
"Did I really," Draco said, pretending offense, though Harry could tell he was pleased. But when he spoke again, his voice was guarded. "I suppose you weren't so wrong after all."
Harry drew a sharp breath. "Look, Draco --"
"What happened?" Draco whispered. Harry had never heard him sound so vulnerable. It was faintly unnerving. "Why didn't you trust me enough?"
"Draco, it was just -- we were all tense from the war, and after the attack I just suspected everyone, I guess."
"But I was the only person from a different house who knew the password to the Gryffindor dorm room, wasn't I?" When Harry opened his mouth to protest, Draco cut him off sharply. "Forgive me. What I meant to say was that I was the only one who knew the dorm room and had a Dark Mark."
Those words cut into Harry like a knife. He started to apologize, to say otherwise -- but he realized that had been exactly the case. During one of Voldemort's many uprisings, there had been a curse put on one of the Gryffindor rooms -- specifically, the sixth year dorm room -- Harry's own. The hex, a particularly vicious curse that somehow caused the blood in the body to bleed through one's pores, had killed one of his best friends. Dean. And Harry had suspected the first person who came to mind, whose father was a famous Death Eater. And who had the Dark Mark on his arm.
"Draco -- I never meant to hurt you, I swear --"
"God damn it, Harry, you accused me of killing one of your friends. You accused me of sleeping with you so that I could turn you over to Voldemort! And you expected me not to be hurt? They found the killer a month later, Harry. You still wouldn't speak to me."
"I --" For the life of him, Harry couldn't think of anything to say. But Draco continued bitterly, ignoring him.
"And then you started going out with the Weasel." The scorn and contempt in Draco's voice this time was not only for Ron, but for Harry as well. "You flaunted it in my face, Potter, and don't pretend you didn't mean to."
At least this time Harry had some ammunition of his own. "Well, at least I didn't try and make you jealous with some childish trick. You didn't even meet Blaise in the Astronomy Tower, Draco. He was seeing Hermione. He told me."
If possible, Draco sounded even more furious than he had before. "I'm not going to sit here and argue with you, Potter. If you don't need anything else, I'm leaving."
"Wait," he said, before Draco could leave again. "Do you really want to come back to Middle-earth with Legolas and me?"
Draco hesitated a moment before replying. "Yes," he said quietly. And then: "But your elf doesn't have to get himself worked up into a jealous lather. I'm not interested in you, anyway. I just want to keep an eye on that elf and make sure that you figure out how to get your sight back, is all."
Harry had to smile at Draco's defensiveness. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you. But if you want to come, meet Legolas and I in Dumbledore's office tomorrow morning at around eight." He heard Draco's footsteps turn to walk back to the common room.
"Oh, and Draco? Thanks."
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A/N: *pops open a Mr Pibb and puts feet on desk* Ahhh, I love Harry/Draco interaction. But it was strange having them argue and I couldn't tell anything about what Draco looked like, only what he sounded like. Oh well. He was hot and pissed, let's leave it at that, shall we?