House: Slytherin

Class: DADA

Category: Standard

Word Count: 1134

Prompt(s): [Location] The Burrow, [Disability] Blind

Warnings/Disclaimers: Canon Divergence, Major Canon Speculation, Blind!AU

The alarm rang through the room. Shrill. Deafening. Was it morning already? Bill rubbed his face, feeling the long-faded but ever-present bumps of his scars. He took a deep breath, smelling the sweet smell of breakfast and the crisp morning air. Merlin, it felt good to be home. Sleepily he stretched out in the bed, feeling for Fleur but her side of the bed was cold. Bill took this to mean she'd been up for a while. Perhaps she was to praise for the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. He stood from the bed, turned off the alarm, and then felt the bedside table for his clothes.

Bless Fleur and her fashion sense. If it weren't for her he was sure he'd look a mess each day. Luckily he had the most wonderful wife in the world, and as she did each night, she had set him out a perfect stack of clothing that was ready to be put on as soon as he woke up. It would make going back to work at the Ministry a breeze, he reckoned - whenever they let him go back, that was. He slid the familiar fabric over his skin, muscle memory telling him how and where each button should go, feeling them out where needed.

This really wasn't that hard, he thought, once you get the hang of it. His foot hit the corner of the doorway ever so slightly. Damn it. No, he was fine. He took a deep breath. He was just overthinking this. Bill tried again. He opened the door at last and let a small smile slip onto his face. At least I remember where the handle is. Careful footsteps led him through the familiar hallways of the Burrow, down the stairs, and into the kitchen with little to no accidents on the way. There, he thought, that wasn't so bad.

"Ah, good," came Fleur's bright sweet voice from near what he was assuming was the stove. "You're up."

Bill chuckled. "I am indeed."

The familiar sound of her footsteps pitter-pattering towards him made a small pang of…something…shoot through his chest. He pushed it away. He'd been feeling this something ever since Greyback had attacked him, but he'd never had the time to consider what it could be until now. Before there was the wedding, and then the war, and then rebuilding. Now, though, the healers had told him he needed to focus on rest and recuperation. He had nothing but time to consider this foreign feeling. Fleur leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

He smiled again. "Where are the others?"

"Asleep," she replied, her accent stretching the vowels.

The healers had also decided, along with his family, that the Burrow was the best place for him to adapt to his blindness. It would be an easier place to navigate, they reckoned, considering how he'd spent over half his life there. Bill had been reluctant at first. He enjoyed their more modern cottage, the appliances and the location. He had to admit, though, that there was nothing like being home. It was easy to move around. He knew every nook and cranny, which meant he didn't need to be accompanied every time he wanted to stretch his legs.

Everything was familiar in the Burrow. The sounds and the smells. The warmth of the sunlight that streamed through open windows. He only wished he could actually see it. But he supposed that was a feeling he would have to get used to. Not knowing. Still he couldn't help but feel like he was missing out. Fleur told him it would take time, but that he would grow accustomed to it. The Healers told him that, too. But it had been months already, and he felt like he would never get used to being blind. Shouldn't it have been somewhat better by now? Shouldn't he have stopped feeling such disappointment at missing out?

Disappointment. That foreign little feeling that now had a name. He felt it yesterday, when his brothers and Harry had rushed into the living room, offering a backyard Quidditch Match like they'd always used to play. Bill was off the couch before anyone could stop him. Before he could even think rationally he was already in the broom closet, hand on the 'best' broom.

"Merlin, you're fast," Harry had wheezed.

Bill hadn't realized he was first to the brooms until George caught up a few seconds later. His victory was sweet enough in the beginning. Glad that despite being the oldest and the most tired he was still the quickest. This feeling was tainted by a strange bitterness that sat on the tip of his tongue when he realized he couldn't play. Not yet. It was too soon according to the Healers. They said he could play again, but only once he took lessons, and got himself a special license. He frowned at the memory.

Would it be like that again, today? Perhaps his mother would offer to have the lot of them picnic in the backyard and he'd be stuck with only the sounds and smells of the place and none of the scenery. How he longed for it. The disappointment ached in his chest. It ate away at him. It really did not feel like it was going to get better. It will, he thought, but felt like a liar right after.

More pitter-patter came downstairs. He knew their footsteps too. Harry's was a softer, more quiet kind of pace. As quick as Ron's though not so loud. Hermione and Ginny must have been trailing behind, since theirs were methodical, slow. Rhythmic. Ginny's were ever so slightly louder than Hermione's, which Bill thought was a byproduct of growing up with so many loud older brothers. What will they get up to today, he mused, and couldn't help but wonder if it would be an activity he could participate in.

"Hey." Fleur's voice stole him from his thoughts. "Give it time."

"I don't—" he barely tried to protest.

But this was Fleur. There was no point in lying to her. She'd always been so good at reading him. Knew exactly he was feeling, his worries, what was troubling him. And she was only trying to help ease his mind.

"I know," he grumbled after a pause.

"It will take time," she urged. "But it will get better. Look how far you've come already."

The sun filtered onto his face again. Warm. Homely. Nostalgic. He closed his eyes. More voices filled the kitchen. The whole family was here. Charlie, too, who leaned over to ruffle his hair. The disappointment eased away ever so slightly. A small smile returned to his face. It will get better, he thought.

This time it felt just a little more true.