BLIND SIGHT - drarry

Ch. seven

Standing on the small balcony, Draco wished for one minute he could look out at the sky. Charlie had described it every night since they arrived, but it wasn't the same as seeing it for himself.

According to the audible tempus he had set on his watch, Draco knew it was 2:30 in the morning. There wouldn't be much to see, the blazing fire of sunset a few hours gone, soft colors of dawn a few hours away. Just a dark blue sky set with stars over the city lights, traffic streaking past like comets.

Normally he would be asleep at this hour, but nightmares had chased him from his bed again. Bogart still slept, perched on the blankets like a particularly heavy stuffed animal with a tendency to kick, and Charlie was away, for once, on Draco's insistence that he could take care of himself for a few nights and for Merlin's sake hadn't he been doing it for months at Hamilton.

So, when he woke up alone, fleeing shadowy hands and the accusing stare of his own grey eyes, he needed fresh air to clear the monsters away.

It had been two weeks since they arrived in their new home, plus the two and a half months he had spent at Hamilton, he had been blind for a quarter of a year. He'd been alone for a quarter of a year, too.

He still felt the urge to turn around and ask Harry how he was feeling, to tell him a joke, to reach for his hand, but it was becoming easier to let it go, and it didn't tear him apart anymore.

Maybe there was nothing left.

A strong gust of wind picked up the soft hair on his arms and chased Draco back inside. He wouldn't be able to sleep, but maybe if he put some music on he wouldn't have to think.