Draco in Darkness

Dark World

The eyes that shone now dimmed and gone
-- Thomas Moore

"...then, in 1752, the giant Melvin the Morose accidentally stepped on some goblins; this interrupted the ongoing goblin rebellion but started the goblin-giant war, which lasted for seventeen years and twelve days. During that time..."

Draco resisted the urge to slam the book shut, just to silence the incessant and irritating drone. History of Magic was boring enough already; did the charm which caused his textbooks to read aloud have to be monotonous too? It actually almost sounded like Professor Binns; even his Potions books got boring after a while.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, a habit which seemed to have stayed with him as a gesture of fatigue, even though his eyes were no longer doing the work. The book droned on, and he forced himself to pay attention; there was a History test next week on material they were supposed to have revised over the holidays, and he wanted to get his studying over with as soon as possible. That meant getting as much information into his brain the first time around, minimising the number of times he had to listen to the blasted passages.

It had been two months, two dark months, since the accident at the Quidditch match. In his victory, he'd foolishly forgotten how close he was flying to the goal hoops; the lapse had cost him his vision. Wizarding medicine could cure many things, but it could not, doctors informed him regretfully, reverse brain damage. The injury had been to the occipital lobe at the back of his head, so they said, and there was nothing anyone could do. Though his father had threatened, and his mother had pleaded, and he himself had disbelievingly demanded second, third, twelfth opinions, the answer was always the same from the medical community: blindness. Permanent.

<*>*<*>*<*>

Harry searched the shelves at the back of the library until he found the book he was after, a review of specialised fungi he needed for his Herbology class. He dusted it off, gave it a cursory glance-through, then tucked it under his arm. There were several more books he'd need later, but he decided he'd get them tomorrow. He wasn't like Hermione, who could plow through a stack of ancient, dry textbooks in a single night. This one tonight would be plenty, in addition to his normal work. Speaking of... there was that History of Magic test next week; he needed to get started before Hermione began chasing after him with her colour-coded notes.

It was as he was winding his way through the shelves along the back wall that he became aware of a low, monotonous voice. It sounded remarkably like Professor Binns, only less interesting. Curious, he poked his nose into one of the small side rooms tucked into the wall. Then stopped short.

In the candle-lit room sat Draco Malfoy, . A textbook lay open on the table before him ... and it was this book which seemed to be talking. Either that, or someone else had an Invisibility Cloak, because Draco certainly wasn't uttering so much as a murmur, and no one else was apparent.

"Whoever you are, you should either speak up or get out. I don't appreciate being stared at."

"Er..." said Harry, startled. He watched as Draco turned his head - not to look, but to listen; his head swiveled only far enough so that his left ear was pointed directly at the doorway where Harry stood. "It's me, Harry. Potter. I ... uh ... didn't mean to interrupt. How did you know I was here, anyway?"

"Your footsteps, idiot, what else? School shoes have never been terribly silent on stone floors."

"Oh." Harry felt foolish; he hadn't thought about that. "So ... um ... is that your book talking? So you don't have to read? I wondered how you were managing that."