GeneralUnicornDuckPudding: I'm glad to hear you like where it's going! :3 Thank you for your review!

takingitinstride: I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you so much for your review :)

CallaRose4ever: The story isn't supposed to be accurate on all fronts, there's a lot of artistic liberty that fanfiction writers take, and so do I. I'm sorry you don't enjoy it but I hope you'll find something to your liking on the website :)

Chapter Seven

After a few days, Draco was released from the hospital wing but not allowed back to his common room.

Madame Pomfrey had informed him that proximity to others would only exacerbate his symptoms and had arranged with McGonagall for him to get a private room on the fifth floor. The new Headmaster had started admonishing him for his secrecy but had calmed as soon as she saw the state he was in. She merely told him to be more honest in the future so that she can intervene if necessary.

While part of him was disappointed that he would be isolated even more, particularly after his mates had made a first step towards him; mostly he felt relieved to have a space to himself where he could allow himself to truly go through the motions.

Upon entering his new room, he let his bag fall to the floor and breathed deeply.

At this point he could only recognize vague shapes in front of him. He could read phrases if he held the parchment at nose length, but where before it was like seeing the world at twilight, by then it was more like trying to maneuver around just after sunset. Colors were completely gone and all he had left were darker shapes amongst the shadows.

He walked around the room slowly with his arms slightly extended.

But he didn't pay much attention to what he was feeling, he registered vaguely that there was a chest, a desk and a bed. He just felt too exhausted.

At the hospital wing he had moved minimally, only to the bathroom on occasion; going up to the fifth floor had been quite the excursion and it made him realize how weak he had really become.

He sat on the bed, feeling the strain in his thighs as he leaned down, the ache in his back as he bent, the fast rhythm of his heart at the few steps. For the first time in what felt like years, he could clearly hear his Father's voice whispering in his ear:

You're a disgrace.

He had had every intention of catching up with the workload he had missed, but it had taken all his energy and his last shred of pride to walk from his room to the library. He thankfully hadn't run into any walls or objects but it had taken him an inordinate amount of time to figure out which direction he was supposed to take.

He issued a quick salutation to Madam Pince as she acknowledged him but otherwise stayed by the library entrance, staring out in front of him.

He could see where the windows were as they were lighter patches amongst the darkness, but the rest of the room was too messy for him to decipher and he realized with surprise that he had never really paid attention to the layout of the library. He had never needed to know.

He slowly took a few steps hoping he was not being perceived by the people around him, but also not really caring if he was. It might be the only advantage to losing sight, was missing out on the hateful or curious looks.

"Malfoy?"

He turned around to the sound of the voice and tried seeing through the shapes. Given the voice and the fact that the silhouette had rather a lot of hair, he could guess who it was.

"Granger?"

She seemed to nod, "Would you like to sit with me?"

His instinct was to reply something snarky as the tone of pity in her voice grated him but he bit the inside of his cheeks harshly and answered curtly, "Yes."

He focused on the shape of her hair contrasting against the blocks behind and followed her more closely than he would have liked. He was relieved to find out that she was studying on her own.

He sat down slowly and took out his parchment and quill set purposefully, but realized fast that it was of little use. He sighed.

"Do you need some help?" Granger offered.

Draco felt for his quill and twiddled with the feather edges for a moment. Slowly he felt the desperation fill his eyes. Hearing the sounds around him, the bustling of life, Granger the only one talking to him, needing her help, the weakness of his body.

He heard how the Gryffindor slid her chair closer to him.

"Malfoy?" she called, "Are you alright?"

He grit his teeth harshly, digging his nails deeply into the palm of his hand.

"No," he muttered through his teeth, "I'm fucking not."

He closed his eyes but it was crashing onto him. The reality of his life and the death that would incur from it. How hard he had fought his entire life to be strong, and that now, regardless of how much he tried, he would only get weaker and weaker, until it just ended for him.

"I don't want your help," he spat, "I don't want anyone's help. I'm not alright, I doubt I'll ever be alright again. But I am not, and will not be desperate enough to accept help from the likes of you."

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply three times. It was silent during that moment. Each breath he drew burned his chest and his mind, sending him reeling down a spiral that ended in the breakdown of his emotions.

He sensed Granger's presence remaining by him, stable in some way.

He knew she didn't deserve that and murmured after a while, "I apologize."

"It's okay," she whispered back, "How's your vision?"

He sighed and put his forehead against the table. He felt heavier than he cared to admit.

"Like I'm trying to see through a Dementor's fucking cloak," he answered, leaning back in his chair. "How did you know?"

"It's not that hard to figure out," she replied easily, "I studied up on Veelas in Fourth year during the Triwizard tournament. The changes you showed at the beginning of the year were quite the tell tale signs."

"Does anyone else know?"

She raised her shoulders, "Maybe. But I haven't talked to anyone about it and haven't heard people discussing it."

He nodded slowly, cutting deeper into his cheeks. He swallowed heavily, "How's he taking it?"

Granger turned away from him and looked back at her textbook. She answered slowly, allowing Draco to breathe in all of it, "He doesn't know. But he's very confused. He doesn't talk too much about it, but you are on his mind a lot."

"Will you tell him?"

"It's not up to me," she breathed in, "But he'd want to know."

The Slytherin put his face in his hands. He wanted to pierce his brain with his nails, dig deep enough to change himself back.

In truth, he had never been awfully self assured or proud of who he was, but he could take pride in certain aspects. He took pride in his appearance, his grades, his family, his relations. He had some things that were worth taking care of. It didn't seem to be the case anymore.

"I'll tell him," he whispered, "Just not yet."

For the remainder of the day, Draco wandered along the grounds. It was easier and more peaceful.

Along the lake he could rely on the reflection on the water and the shadows of the tree to get around without too many issues.

It was calming to feel the breeze on his cheeks. He had always loved Hogwarts in Autumn, it held a charm he couldn't begin to describe. The trees were turning orange, the animals bustling around making nests and growing thick furs, the great squid was growing slower but also tended to swim closer to the surface.

Even though he couldn't really see it, he could imagine what the grounds were like at the approach of Halloween, and for a moment things felt a little normal.

He was weak, practically locked away from his magic, his vision fading. But with his eyes closed by the lake, it was like it had always been.

He felt a strong gust of wind behind him, that hit him straight within his lungs. It was warm, coursing through his veins.

He opened his eyes and turned around.

In full color, sunlight on his face, was Potter, just as he stepped outside the castle.

Draco wanted to look around him, at the green of the grass, the details of the oak door, the flowers as they withered. But he couldn't.

He saw the rays of sun shining through the locks of raven hair, the way his glasses were slightly askew, the crumpling in his robes.

Mostly he noticed the frown on his face and the stiffness of his shoulders.

The door opened again and the Weaselette stepped out, going straight for Potter and talking to him frantically, waving her arms around.

Draco couldn't look away as they shouted at each other.

Something deep within him purred at the sight. He felt a sense of mischief returning to him, glee at the pain of another, a revenge he felt he didn't deserve but wanted nonetheless.

But he also felt Potter's distress, his discomfort and his profound shame.

He wanted to enjoy seeing the colors while they were there but couldn't, he was too attuned to Potter's emotions to think of anything else.

He watched silently and discreetly as they ended their discussion, calmer and quieter than it had started, but still tense, the Weaselette going back indoors as she wiped away small tears.

Potter saw Draco immediately and seemed to charge towards him.

"What do you want?" He demanded angrily, "Enjoyed the show did you?"

Draco was taken aback. His world slowly opened up as Potter neared him but his chest constricted seeing his expression and hearing his tone. It was like a fire burning within him. He stood up to be eye to eye with his mate.

"You could be putting on a rendition of dance like a hippogriff that you would still not be entertaining to me, Potter," he answered. It came easily to him. This was comfortable, known territory. A version of their relationship he could understand.

Potter breathed in deeply through his nose. "I'm really not in the mood for this now."

"Lover's spat?"

Potter glared at him so profoundly Draco felt it pierce through his chest. The Gryffindor moved closer to him, the colors glared at him so brightly he could barely see. Draco backed up until he felt the bark of the tree against his back.

Potter continued moving closer, the look of anger on his face was slowly dissolving into a frown, his heart beat racing. He stopped when they almost touched each other. Draco felt the heat emanating from him.

They shared a look of profound confusion, staring into each other's eyes like they were meeting for the first time, and they were discovering something new between them.

"What?" Potter whispered, "Are you scared, Malfoy?"

"Yes."

His answer had been automatic. He hadn't had the time to think, he just felt the rising in his throat, the sting, the hurt, the loss, and how it all faded in the presence of the Gryffindor. And it terrified him, how his entire world had been reduced to those eyes.

He wanted to sink into the tree.

Groaning softly he added, "Scared that whatever idiocy you seem to have contracted might be contagious."

"I'm not the one that's ill," he retorted.

And that's all it was really, just another disease. Draco rammed into Potter's shoulder and walked past him.

As soon as he did, the light vanished from around him and he was stuck there in the dark.

Alone.

Put this one out a bit faster because I'm starting work soon and won't have much time… Hope you enjoy!

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