A/N: Indeed, you are the sun, and I am helplessly caught in your orbit, barely catching some of your rays, and cherishing each and every one.
AU Summary: After a bout of Cursebreaking gone awry, Draco is now stuck at home with a terrible, horrible curse on him. Until he can learn to have blind faith in someone, he is completely blind. And of course it's Auror Potter's fault it happened to begin with, so he should be the one to care for Draco.
He was getting more and more used to this. Was that a bad thing? It started to feel natural to hear Harry blundering about in his apartment, stumbling through conversation, and trying to help Draco while also trying to not make him feel as though there was a constant intruder in his home. And… It started to work. He no longer felt so much like an intruder. Were Draco in a particularly chipper mood, he may go so far as to call him… A friend.
"Hey, Draco…" Draco looked to the direction of his voice. He sounded close, as though just beside the couch. Hadn't he just been in the kitchen making lunch for the two of them? "I guess being blind would make some of your other senses better, right?" He felt himself frown. What was he talking about? He felt Harry sit down on the other side of the couch. "What about touch?"
"Excuse me?!" Certainly he was not implying what Draco thought he was implying! Harry chuckled beside him.
"No, not what I- Here. Just…" Draco's hand was taken in his quickly and roughly- "What do they feel like?"
What did his hands feel like? This was completely absurd! "What on earth do you mean-"
Harry interrupted him, "Just… What does it feel like?" Draco frowned and finally gave in, focusing further on his sense of touch.
He took a deep breath and let himself feel instead of trying to look or listen. It took him a moment before he finally began to speak. "Rough. Coarse. Like you're always working with your hands." That was… He supposed it made sense, but he never really had noticed it whenever they'd had to interact at work before. "They're… Wide." They were much bigger than Draco's. Draco had always considered his own hands to be slim and delicate, the best show of his aristocracy and class.
"They're wide," Harry laughed, though he still left his hands in Draco's. "My hands are wide."
"Well, I never have to describe how people's hands feel! Yours just feel abnormally large," Draco defended, even as it felt like his face was going red as he thought about how his words could be taken.
Harry was silent for a moment before he spoke again, "Your hands… They remind me of Hermione. Your fingers are long and thin. I think a teacher when I was young said something like 'fingers of a piano player' or something like that. Your hands remind me of that. And they're really smooth, like you've never had to so anything for yourself in your life." Oh. That was…
Though he couldn't see him, Draco looked up to Harry and spoke softly, "It sounds like you've thought of it quite a bit."
Harry's hands tightened around his. "I have."
Everything in Draco wanted to immediately jerk his hand away, and cut off contact with him, but there seemed to be a small voice in the back of his head telling him not to.
So he didn't.
The two of them didn't say much more, they both just sat there, holding each other's hands, and Draco felt like his own hands - which were always chilled - were getting warmer with each second that passed. Though it made sense, as Harry seemed to run warmer than he did. It was only after it felt as though they had been sitting like that for hours that Harry finally took his hands away and stood from the couch. "I need to… Lunch." Draco had just barely nodded before he felt one of those same hands that had been in his own a moment ago now running gently through his hair. He didn't even know that Harry knew how to do anything gently.
"Okay," he said quietly, and that was enough for Harry to leave him completely and return to the kitchen. Once he was certain he was gone, Draco groaned and laid himself back on the couch. This couldn't end well.