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Chapter Eleven

Potter stayed the rest of the evening by Draco's side. None of them mentioned the hand holding more, but nor did either of them let go. Mostly it was Potter asking questions that Draco tried to answer as nonchalantly as he could; explaining his partial blindness and the loss of his magic and jokingly adding that none of that was the case with the Gryffindor around.

He was hoping to minimize some of his mate's discomfort but to little avail. It was after one of these jokes that Potter got annoyed and they ended in a heated discussion where they cussed at each other. It ended with Draco laughing himself to tears.

It felt so normal.

Seeing Potter's aggravated blush, the way he always stumbled on his insults and the way he stopped himself from getting physical. This was how Draco had known him. He had grown up with this Potter. None of the insults reached him, none of them held any true venom. It was just their way, the way they had always dealt with each other.

There was this fire between them that had been there from the start. For as long as they had known each other it had burned at them; culminating in the wild fire that had almost killed them in their last year. There was no doubt in Draco's mind that he'd be dead if Potter hadn't reached for him back then.

It wasn't lost on him that he would also die if he didn't reach out now. His life was once more in Potter's hands.

While Draco laughed, Potter looked at him curiously with a small smile.

"What?" he asked, holding back his own chuckle.

Draco talked through his laughs, "Nothing; just - here I am. Blind, squib, weak, fatherless, an animal and here you are! Insulting my hair!"

He leaned forward as he continued laughing. He held Potter's hand closer to his face without even realizing it. Potter joined in the ridiculousness of the situation.

In that moment, Draco had hope.

He should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

Starting directly the following day, Draco was back in the dark. He got up and walked painstakingly to the window and felt the sun hitting his features. But he felt cold.

He leaned his forehead against the window and shivered at the dew deposited on it. This felt comforting to him and he wanted to press his entire body against it; because, while the cold represented a form of loss, he wanted badly to lose the heat that was covering his arms.

Not heat, burning.

His arms were burning and he wanted to peel his skin off.

Considering the pattern of the burning, he knew it was a caress, a hug.

Dammit.

It was one of the things they hadn't discussed the prior night. Potter had asked about the blindness and many of his other symptoms, but they had stayed clear of the topic of Potter's unavailability. And yet it was the questions on the tip of Draco's tongue.

The burning became more intense, leaving him shaking and breathing heavily.

He pulled his sleeve up and looked at his forearms.

There were thick red streaks all over his skin. He felt his veins like the blood within was boiling. He could see it happening, the strokes happening before his eyes, leaving his skin charred in their wake. His arms were shaking violently, it was as if the pain was becoming too much for him to even feel it. Certain strokes dug deeper till he barely felt them but saw how his skin turned white. He felt the pressure building in his chest and he fell against the wall.

His arms weren't just far away from his body, they were gone. He couldn't control or move them.

The pain and paralysis was spreading to his shoulders.

Madame Pomfrey was by his side before he was even aware of it.

She talked to him, spoke of … something. Before long he was back in bed, his arms were bandaged and it was all dark again.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed. Strange how without a sense of light, he couldn't feel time passing. He supposed it was in the evening when a knock came on the door. His heart lept for a moment, but the disappointment was instantaneous when there was no accompanying light.

"Malfoy?" a familiar yet grating voice called to him, "It's Hermione Granger, I brought you some homework."

Draco motioned vaguely towards where he supposed the chair was. "I appreciate the effort, Granger," he said, "in vain however."

He heard the scraping of the chair against the floor. "Is your vision completely gone?"

The question fell on him like a ton of bricks.

"No, I'm currently enjoying the sight of Hogwarts by Autumn, the falling leaves and the morning dew. I'm dancing in the moonlight, in case you hadn't noticed," he replied sarcastically.

"Little escapes my notice," she replied easily, "Like the fact that it's evening and there is no moon."

"How astute."

"I'm smart like that, I see things. Unlike you."

Draco could practically hear the snigger in her voice and it surprised him with a certain delight. She didn't seem fased by his moods and this was something he had always needed from his peers.

"Truth be told," she added, "I didn't really bring homework."

"Ah, rumours of my incredible company have leaked," he answered, "I apologise Granger, but I am fully booked."

"I can tell, your popularity nowadays is astounding."

Draco allowed himself the ghost of a smile. He repositioned himself in the bed to be more straight against the back. "So, what can I do for you?"

The chair shuffled slightly by his side. "I saw Harry with Ginny earlier," she said simply, "I was wondering how you were doing."

"Oh."

Draco silent for a moment, trying to gauge Granger's intent, whether she was truly honest with him. Draco had always been good at detecting a lie or falsehood, however, he had always been able to see it on someone's expression.

"And you are concerned because…?"

Granger sighed, "I'm human too Malfoy. I've read enough to know that you must be in pain, that the bandages on your arms are not decorational. There's little I can do to help but believe it or not… I feel sorry for you."

"Don't," he replied immediately.

I feel sorry for you, it was not the first time the phrase was uttered to him. His father had said in regards to his weakness. The Dark lord had said it with disgust. It had always been accompanied by a feeling of disgust or loathing. While Draco was capable of hearing the difference and knew that when Granger said it was with more compassion, it still scratched a painful itch in his chest.

"I don't need your pity," he added.

"Well you're getting it," she retorted firmly, "My sympathy is not for you to need or accept. It's there, whether either of us like it or not. Somehow we are going to make this work."

He heard the maternal Wesley mum type tone in her and was taken aback. How that tone could be used to convey the depth of a feeling that was not negative.

He let his head fall slightly and whispered, "What do you mean we?"

"Harry is my best friend, that creates a link between you and I. He doesn't understand this bond of yours yet, but I do. And I know that somehow you are going to be very important and very good for him," she sighed gently, "Therefor, you are going to be important to me too."

He wanted to, but couldn't, fault her logic. There were many questions he wanted to ask. How to make Potter understand, did he have feelings for Draco, did he think of him. But he breathed. For Potter, it had only been a day; not nearly long enough for him to grasp the reality of a lifelong bond. Not nearly long enough for Draco to have any expectations of him.

He inhaled deeply as he asked, "How is his relationship with the Weaselette?"

The sigh that came from the Gryffindor spoke volumes. "I'm not going to lie Malfoy," she started, "their relationship works. They've been together for a while. Their couple was years in the making. Their feelings for each other are genuine."

He closed his eyes bit by bit as she spoke, letting it sink in slowly.

"But," she added firmly, "I really do believe that what they are is nothing compared to what you two can mean for each other."

"Why?" he questioned painfully.

"Be-"

She was interrupted as the door opened and Draco's vision suddenly opened up. With a few books in his arms, the Golden boy looked between them with a confused expression.

For the first time that day, Draco could see Granger and saw that she was quite red. Everything about her demeanor seemed sincere. She hadn't brought any homework with her.

She stood up and rushed towards the door, whispered something in Potter's ear and called behind her, "Good evening Malfoy!" as she bolted.

Draco barely had time to lift his arm in dismissal.

Potter was looking at him with a frown, his gaze firmly directed towards Draco's bandages. His face fell into something the Slytherin couldn't quite identify.

But desperately wanted to know.

And done! Sorry it's a tad later. Hope you enjoy and I'm open to suggestions :)

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