Blind - drarry

Chapter 11

Published: December 13, 2020

Updated: September 30, 2021

Potter groaned in his ear when he woke up. "Crap, my back. Next time, I'm putting you back into bed."

"Sorry," Draco murmured, but his heart fluttered at the mention of next time.

"You don't have to be sorry. I hide in my closet sometimes."

Draco tilted his head toward him. "Why?"

"I just find it... familiar. My aunt and uncle made me sleep in a cupboard when I was younger. Trapped me in it. But the close four walls, the darkness... it was my safe space. They didn't hurt me or glare at me there," Harry explained, revealing his past to him.

Draco felt his stomach drop at the image of Harry's childhood. "That was what your muggles did to you?"

"Some muggles are assholes, Draco, and some wizards and witches are, too. But come on. Hermione is coming soon. We need to get up."

Draco sighed. He liked Harry being so close. He couldn't forget what Hermione had told him, that Potter was gay and in love with him. Potter was still dressed, so there wasn't anything improper about it, though he was shirtless. Draco let go, though. Harry deserved better than a blind beggar with no future.

Harry clambered to his feet and stretched. "I'll use the loo and get started on breakfast. Just come down when you are ready."

Draco nodded as he also got to his feet. Harry left, and Draco went to his chest of drawers and pulled off his pants as he felt for a fresh pair.

"Draco, what do you want for..." Harry said, coming out of the bathroom and stopping at his door. Apparently, he hadn't shut the door either. "Sorry, I didn't... I'll... umm... go...."

Draco was resisting the urge to smirk, as it took Potter several seconds to leave. He had definitely gotten a good view of everything. When Potter scampered, he chuckled. He knew he had an awesome body, time on the streets notwithstanding. He was well-endowed, at least compared to Theo and Blaise. It was too bad Granger was coming over, or he might have gone down without a shirt on.

Draco picked out a soft shirt and then found the robes that Harry had mentioned. He didn't want his mark on display. He was halfway through pulling them on, when he remembered what Harry said. He didn't have to hide. He let go of the robes and felt his mark. The line through it was barely there. He could feel the ridges of the adapted Protean Charm. Morsmorde Mercurio. He hated that it was there, but still took off the robes and placed them back into the wardrobe. No more hiding, he told himself.

He went to the loo, fixed his hair as best he could and then went down to Potter, who was cooking and singing Thriller under his breath.

"I hadn't realized it was that close to Halloween," he drawled.

Potter dropped something. "Draco, sorry I didn't hear you come down. Yeah, it's tomorrow, actually. You know muggle music?"

"Blaise liked muggle records. No electricity needed."

"Blaise Zabini, right? He's the one who sent you money?"

"Yes, he, his mother, and his boyfriend fled to Italy. None of them were marked, but thought it wise to leave anyway."

"His... boyfriend?" Harry questioned, apparently finding this news quite interesting.

"Theo. His dad was a Death Eater, but he never was marked."

"Oh," Harry said, but didn't say whatever question he had wanted to ask and Draco didn't know what Hermione had told him.

Draco decided to invade Harry's space and went to the mug cupboard, pulling one out and then extracting a teabag. "Is the water hot?"

It took Potter a second to answer, like he had been watching him intently. "I... umm... yeah, I got it warm. You did that without... umm... seeing?"

"I told you that yesterday," Draco said, as he found the kettle.

"Want me to pour it?"

"Sure."

Harry dumped the water, and Draco started dunking his teabag. After he opened the cupboard to put the wrapper in the rubbish bin, he let the tea seep and walked to the table.

"You didn't bring your cane down, either," Harry commented.

Draco smirked as he sat down. "Unless you plan on leaving random things on the floor or moving the furniture, I don't really need it inside the house."

"Wow... that's amazing, Draco."

"I walked through all of Knockturn and Diagon without help on a daily basis. I think I manage this small house."

"It's not small."

"It's smaller than my house..." Draco chuckled, but then frowned. "I mean, my ancestor's house. Guess it was never really mine."

"It was your home, Draco. Can I ask you about that?"

"About what? My childhood home?" Draco asked, dubiously.

"Yeah, that and stuff. What was in your sentence? Just the six months?"

"Yeah."

"Nothing about seizing property or your assets?" Harry pressed.

"No... but the ninth law fixed that." All monetary assets of former Death Eaters can be seized if they helped financially supported the Death Eater cause in any way.

"But the Wizengamot itself didn't issue restitution orders?"

"I... umm... no? What are you getting at?" Draco inquired.

"Just checking. Hermione will be here soon to talk about the plan."

"Plan?"

"Yeah. Steps one and two can be worked on at the same time."

Draco heard the floo before he could question Potter further, and Hermione called out, "Harry?"

"We're in here. Breakfast is almost ready."

"Good. Maybe I should ask you for some cooking lessons. I never got around to learning how to cook properly."

Harry laughed. "Gasp! Something Hermione doesn't know!"

"Hey, I know enough to get by, Harry. Made enough meals when we were on the run, and you guys didn't complain too much."

"And those were the best meals ever," said another voice, and Draco straightened up. Bloody hell. It was Weasley's voice. "Makes me long for those days of adventure, again."

"Shut up, Ron. We didn't make you cook," Harry chided.

"That was just self-preservation on your part. Besides, I was the one who was splinched, remember?" Weasley chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah. Sit down. Say hi to Draco before he bolts."

In truth, Draco had been debating whether or not to escape, but their light-hearted banter made it seem safe. He hadn't heard Weasley's take on all this. Granger wasn't exactly friendly at first, either, so he imagined that Weasley would be worse. Draco had to use his ears to hear where Weasley's combat boots walked, and he took the chair to the left of him. Granger sat down to the right. Harry would be across from him, but he was still at the stove.

"Hello, Malfoy," Weasley said, leaning forward. He was smiling by his tone, and it didn't sound mad nor sarcastic. Maybe Weasley wasn't going to tear him a new one.

"Weasley," he tested, with a nod, but his eyes narrowed as he felt the air move and light change in front of his face. Like someone was waving their hand in front of it.

"Please stop doing that. I really am blind, Weasley."

"Just checking, but how did you know I was doing that?" he asked.

"The air does move, and I can see changes in light and darkness," Draco huffed, annoyed.

"Huh, guess that explains what you're wearing, then. Nice color."

Draco grunted. "Let me guess... red."

"It's only Harry's quidditch shirt," Weasley barked happily.

"Well, you know what they say: beggars can't be choosers," Draco growled, annoyed. But, at the same time, he was smiling on the inside. It was Potter's shirt. Harry knew what clothes he put into his room. He wanted him to wear it.

"Well... umm... you've really been on the streets for a year... like this?" he said, incredulously.

"Yes. I mean, I was in muggle hospital for a week or so, but the rest I was in Diagon and Knockturn Alley."

"Bloody hell. And no one would help you?" Weasley asked, amazed.

Draco held out his Dark Mark for him to see. "Who would?"

"I guess just us then," Weasley muttered. "Harry, I tracked down that other guy from the memory. Anjos identified him, and I took him in. Just got McLaggen to track down, and I'll be more than happy to find him."

"Thanks, Ron. Robards give you trouble?" Harry questioned.

"Just said what I got 'im for. I'll leave that for you to handle. Got his memory for you, too."

"Good."

Draco wanted to know what they were talking about, but Harry dropped a large dish in the middle of the table.

"Breakfast skillet!" Harry announced and dumped a pile on the plate in front of Draco.

"Thanks, Harry! It smells great," Hermione said, and Ron just mumbled something through his stuffed mouth.

Draco gave a nod that he hoped Harry saw and started eating. It was excellent. Potter was a decent cook. After breakfast, they had some minor chit-chat, and Harry and Hermione went to the den to watch the new memory. That left him alone with Weasley, and Harry didn't even warn his best mate to be nice. That meant that Harry either didn't care, or he trusted Weasley.

Draco played with his empty teacup. "Would you like some tea?" he murmured, trying to break the tension.

"You're asking me if I want some tea?" Weasley asked, confused.

"Umm... yes?"

"Sure," he said, and Draco got up.

Hermione had pushed her chair in and Harry hadn't, but he navigated to the stove, located the kettle, and put it going on an empty burner. Draco dumped his tea bag and pulled out another mug, putting new bags in each cup. When the kettle whistled, he poured the water before setting it back on the stove. He carefully brought the mugs over to the table and slid Ron's cup over to him.

"That was impressive, Malfoy."

"It's my specialty, now. Making tea," Draco drawled, but knew he had to apologize as he had to Hermione. "Look, I'm sorry, Weasley, for all that shit at school. You don't have to do this."

"Harry said you'd say that," Weasley stated.

Draco grimaced. "I don't know why he bothered with me in the first place."

"He doesn't like seeing anyone suffer—his saving-people thing. Remember the Triwizard Tournament? He wouldn't leave anyone behind in the water. And he went back for you in the Room of Requirement. I thought he was crazy, but it was the right thing to do. Then the trials and the retribution laws happened. They broke him, mentally. Messed him up that they were so... punitive. He never got over that betrayal by the Wizengamot."

"She, Hermione, said that he was... depressed."

"He had no drive or ambition. He couldn't figure out what to do, cause he hated how it all happened, and no one cared that it was wrong. But Malfoy...."

Draco's gut turned on the inside just hearing that name, though Weasley was being kinder than he deserved.

"...I haven't seen Harry care about anything since the war ended. Add the nightmares, the drinking and people thanking him all the time, and he was just empty. It freakin' sucked for years. Not saying what you went through wasn't a shit show either, just... well, I don't bloody well care if it's you, that you were an asshole and your da was an absolute prick. I just want Harry to be happy, again. So, we're friends now, got it?"

Draco's mouth popped open. "Just like that?"

"Yeah, you prat. Unless you want to keep fighting like children?"

"No. I just... you don't have to forgive me for his sake."

"Well, you aren't exactly insulting my mum, and you're poorer than I am, so what's the point, Mal-Draco," Weasley muttered.

He turned his head toward him, astonished. "You called me by my first name?"

"Yeah, Harry said that you didn't like it when people used your last name."

"He did?"

"Yeah, and you just flinched when I called you it."

"I don't like it. People who have hurt me call me that, but I'm not my father."

"I'm sorry that this happened to you, okay? It's not like we were on good terms before, but you didn't deserve this."

"Many would disagree... Ron."

"Yeah, well, many are clueless idiots and don't know what really is going on."

Harry suddenly growled from the den. "Don't let me meet that wanker, Ron!"

Ron chuckled, and called out, "Of course, mate. He's already in lockup."

Harry and Hermione walked in, and Harry was seething. "The more times I see these memories, the more I want to beat the ever-loving crap out of them. Who does shit like that?"

"It's horrible!" Hermione uttered.

"I'm glad I didn't watch it. Was there anything you got out of it?"

"No. The Auror didn't show up. Draco..." Harry paused, kneeling down next to him. "...none of the people who attacked you had a clear view of the Auror there."

"Okay?" he said.

"We need your memory... to see who it was," Harry sighed and breathed. "Cause... I think... I think he might have cursed you."