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Blind Sight	By : littlechivalry Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2332 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no money from the writing of this story,

Chapter List
- 1-Blind Sight
- 2-Chapter 2
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- 2
BLIND Sight Chapter 1

He was blind. Voldemort was dead, but the resulting spell flash had burned out his retinas, and even Pomphrey, with her endless arsenal of potions and charms, couldn't do anything.

Harry spent weeks in the infirmary, waiting for some change, a flash of light or color, but every day he was faced with the unending blackness. He closed and opened his eyes every morning and night, but the only difference was the soft sensation of his eyelashes against the tender skin.

Draco was at his side every day, of course, holding his hand, talking to him, describing each visitor, and when they stopped coming after the first week or two, the surroundings, and the scenery from the windows. When even those things grew tired, Draco painted verbal pictures of the home the two would eventually share, with children and pets running wild across the yard, through the rooms. Sometimes the house was small and comfortable, other times grand and imposing, echoing with laughter and happy voices.

His descriptions were always followed by a simple question, which was in turn chased by the negative response, sometimes grudging, sometimes forceful, from the dark-haired boy.

But Harry wasn't happy.

He had chased away all of his visitors, weeping and railing against the darkness he was in, screaming in jealousy that they could see and he could not, even as they limped or were carried away, bearing their own grievous wounds.

Again Draco told him a beautiful story about the life they would have, this time in an apartment high over New York City, where they would raise two boys and a very spoiled owl.

When he was done, he asked as he had every night, "Harry, will you marry me?"

With a fierce scream, Harry said no, insisted that he couldn't marry a man he couldn't see, swore that if he had his vision back, he would marry Draco in a heartbeat.

That night, and each night after, Draco's quiet, "will you marry me," was answered the same way, "If I could only see the world, I would marry you."

A few nights later, he heard heated whispers, but couldn't make out the words. The next morning, Madame Pomphrey told him there was a treatment that could give him back his vision. Another wizard had donated their eyes, and soon, Harry would be able to see.

Harry knew organ donations happened in the muggle world, but he had no idea they were possible for wizards. He was sad that someone had to die for his eyes, but still…

That night, Harry cried in Draco's arms again, but for the first time in a longtime, they were happy tears.

A few days later, Harry sat up in bed, waiting for the medi-witch to cut off the last layer of bandages. Already he could see faint traces of light, and shadows moving across the thin gauze.

When the bandage was finally removed, the sun hit his face like a physical blow, but blinking tearily, he forced his eyes open.

Around him were his friends, or what the war had left of them. Hermione stood hand in hand with Ron, but her opposite sleeve hung loose and empty. His red-headed friend leaned heavily on a gnarled cane. Neville blushed lightly and waved, and Harry watched even that soft gesture shift the mass of scar tissue at the boy's throat.

New eyes burning, Harry searched the small group for the silvery blond hair he remembered, Pomphrey, following his gaze, spoke up, "He's sleeping Harry," and waved at a curtained bed in the shadows. "Poor dear worried himself sick, I told him to get some rest."

Disappointed, Harry still forced a smile and tried to catch up with his friends, but he tired quickly and they let themselves out as he drifted off to sleep, fighting the weight of his eyelids the entire time.

When he woke, a few hours later, he could feel Draco's presence next to him, the boy's breath moving slowly, and his body heat soaking into the small bed. Smiling, Harry reached for Draco, catching hold of the boy's robes, then losing it again as the Slytherin flinched away

"Draco? Are you alright?"

The other boy cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, I was just surprised."

Night had fallen sometime in the hours Harry slept, and he found himself back in the position he had been in for so long, the dark. He was scared, but there was a strange familiarity in it, and he ran his fingers gently over the blonde's skin, the only way he had been able to 'see' his love for those dark months.

As he traced calloused fingertips over delicate bones and silken skin, he could almost picture what he was touching, and as his hands went higher, ghosting over the other boy's lips and cheeks, he felt the soft sting of eyelashes against the sensitive pads on the very tip of his fingers—

"Stop."

Draco's voice was quiet, but sure. Harry had never been stopped before. During the time he was blind, he had spent hours running his hands over the Slytherin, reassuring himself the boy was still there, hadn't disappeared.

Harry reached out again, and felt his hands grabbed in a firm grip. Draco's voice came out of the darkness again, "will you marry me?"

Harry pulled his hands free, wrapping his arms around himself. "I want to see you, one way or another."

"Will you marry me?"

Harry huffed, "Ask me again tomorrow," then turned facing away from his love and fell asleep, arms still wrapped tight against his stomach.

The next morning he woke in Draco's arms, cradled on his chest. Looking up, he saw Draco's face, soft and familiar, and he let his eyes trace where his fingers had gone before. The other boy's lips seemed pinker than he had remembered, if chapped, and the purple shadows were dark beneath closed eyelids.

He poked Draco in the shoulder, once, then again. The boy shifted, and without opening his eyes, flailed around on the small night table for a pair of sunglasses that Harry hadn't noticed before.

Harry reached for the glasses, but Draco awkwardly blocked his hand, "Sorry love, the head-ache."

Harry put his arm back where it had been and cuddled closer to the familiar scent of Draco's skin.

"Harry? Will you marry me?"

Harry pushed his face closer into the warm press of Draco's robes and ignored the question. He grunted as he was nudged until he finally raised his head and looked his boyfriend in the… sunglasses.

"Draco, take of the glasses."

"Answer my question first."

"I want to look you in the eye before I answer."

Draco smiled a small, twisted smile, "Not that it will do any good," and removed the sunglasses.

His lashes were as long as Harry remembered, shining softy in the weak morning light, but Harry wanted a look into the grey eyes he had pictured so many times, but they didn't open. Harry demanded it.

"Sorry love, can't do it. Asked Pom to seal them closed, they weren't doing me any good anyway, and it's better this way."

Harry felt a cold shudder down his back, "You're blind?" Draco opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off, "You've been blind this whole time and you never told me? When you were telling me about the scenery, and the visitors, when you told me Hermione and my friends were smiling, looked happy, was that a lie? Were you lying to me?"

Draco tried to speak, but nothing came out. Gathering his dignity around him along with the sheet, Harry got out of the bed, "I'm going to the bathroom. I'd prefer it if you weren't here when I got back."

Harry felt the tug and turned to see Draco's hand gripping the sheet.

The boy spoke, "I love you, Harry."

Harry pulled away, "I know, but I can't look at you right now."

Harry walked slowly to the bathroom, almost hoping Draco would stop him, even if he had no idea what to say.

In the bathroom he caught sight of something moving from the corner of his eye. When he turned, he found himself face to face with the mirror. In the time he was blind he had forgotten about mirrors, but now he took the time to study his image.

He didn't look any different, skinnier maybe, his ribs were visible, and the hollows of his eyes were bigger, the bones of his face more stark, sharper.

And then he saw his eyes.

A bright silver grey.

He tore himself away from his new, mercury gaze, and went back to the infirmary bedrooms, but Draco was gone. Throwing on trousers and a jumper as fast as he could, he raced out of the room, shouting for Draco down every corridor, to be met with nothing but silence and questioning stares.

After the weeks he spent in bed, he got winded easily, and when he couldn't search anymore, he made his way back to the infirmary and collapsed on his bed, crumpling a piece of paper beneath him.

Pulling it free, he held it closer to his face, surprised and saddened to see that his new eyes didn't seem to need glasses, that they were perfect.

The note was short, and Harry recognized the fine script that graced the wrinkled page.

-Take care of your eyes, love, before they were yours, they were mine. I hope the world is beautiful for you.

A few days later, Harry was released from the hospital wing, health as good, or better, than it had ever been. He searched the castle from top to bottom, but could find no sign of the Slytherin boy.

He asked every Slytherin he could find, but even those who agreed to speak to him, few though they were, said they knew nothing. When he told his friends about his search, they told him not to worry, that Draco could care for himself.

Harry searched for months with no clue, no hint, of where his love could be. Every time he grew discouraged, or wanted to give up, he looked into a mirror.

He had Draco's eyes, but Draco had his heart. They would find each other.

Author's Note: I am moving some of my stories over from another site to widen my audience and in the hope that it sparks my inspiration as I have been going through a dry spell creatively.
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Blind Sight