Time went by slowly when he was alone. It was an odd thing, time. When you were anticipating something, it goes by slower than any snail could crawl. Yet when you were enjoying yourselves or spending time with friends, it seemed to go by faster than a lightning strike.
To Harry, waiting was not something he liked. Especially when he was alone and had nothing to do. It was not like he could see anymore. All he saw when he opened his eyes was just the same as when his eyes were closed. Sometimes, he envied those who could see all the pretty sights he could only wish to see once more.
He remembered a time when he could see as clear as day. Well, not that clearly. Everything had been a blur back then. Glasses had been necessary. But now with or without his glasses all he saw was an abyss of darkness that made him feel helpless and alone, from the moment he woke up until the minute he fell asleep. His dreams were the only things in which he saw real places now.
He was grateful that he'd still had his eyesight when he and his husband had gotten married. The happiness he'd seen on Draco's face that day was something he cherished greatly.
It had only been a few months into their marriage when he had lost his sight. An auror mission gone wrong was the cause of his permanent blindness. No muggle or magical cure could work.
When they had found out he had been hit by a curse that made him permanently blind, they had been devastated, Harry more so than Draco. Draco would tell Harry that he still and always will love him whenever he felt pathetic about himself. He would sit on their bed with Harry held tightly in his arms and tell him that he loved him. He would always whisper comforting words and make him laugh afterwards.
What his husband did, made him feel safe and loved. It slowly, but surely, made him comfortable enough with himself.
Most of his friends had thought that Draco would have left him or treated him differently due to his blindness, but they were all proven wrong when they saw them, still happily married and in love.
Draco did treat him differently, that was expected, but not in a bad way. He still brought him tea in bed whenever he was having a bad day, he would still read a bedtime story to both him and Teddy every night before bed and he would still make a jab at how messy his hair was. That was all normal things. But now, Draco seemed a bit more... caring? Affectionate? Harry didn't really know what it was, but he found that he didn't mind it.
Despite the fact that he couldn't see, he felt relatively normal. The only thing that bothered him was that he couldn't see his husband's (of course he still missed seeing the faces of his friends and family) face from the minute he wakes up, to the moment they shut their eyes.
He loved seeing the way that Draco's mercury eyes seemed to melt and glimmer whenever he saw Harry, or how they seemed to turn a bit more steely when he was displeased or angry. The way he would arch his left eyebrow whenever he silently gestured something suggestive at Harry. How he seemed to try and hide a smile whenever Molly gave him a Weasley Sweater for Christmas.
Harry loved everything about Draco, from his mischievous personality to his charming looks. He dearly missed when he could see all of Draco's features.
Now, the only way he could recognise Draco and his friends were by their voices, the way they smelt or how different they each felt under his fingertips.
It was always so easy to identify Draco – and his moods – when he was near. He could always identify him by the way he would hold Harry's hand or put a hand on the small of his back. And whenever he was stressed or angry, Harry would feel his shoulders stiffen and his hands clench. When he was sad, he'd come up to Harry and bury his head in his unruly, messy black hair. When he was happy, he was more relaxed and calm, he would always hug him or kiss him. And, if he was absolutely elated, Harry knew he'd be getting treated to a dinner.
The way Draco dressed also helped. He would wear expensive clothes no matter how much Harry told him he didn't need to, they always felt a bit rough on his fingers. But he also had this really soft, black, cashmere sweater that he always wore on special occasions, it always felt really soft.
He could identify Draco with the way he smelt, too. He smelled like citrus with a hint of expensive cologne. Sometimes he even smelt of caramel and vanilla. He smelt homey and sweet. Harry would often find himself burying his head in Draco's chest or wearing his clothes just to smell the citrus-y, sweet smell that was Draco. It comforted him immensely. He was wearing another one of Draco's sweaters now too, Teddy had told him it was green.
Whenever he was at a house that was crowded and loud, sometimes he can't identify people from their voice due to the noise; something Draco had noticed too. So he told Harry that whenever he was talking to him, he would tap on Harry's hand in a specific way so that he wouldn't be confused about who was talking to him.
Sure, they could just tell Harry their names but he thought that it would've been too odd. And sometimes he felt really bad for asking their names. Besides, the only people he talked to in loud places were Ron, Hermione and Draco, and all three of them had a little tap to tell Harry who it was.
Today though, he was in his house, it had a lovely garden outside, and the area around was just filled with open fields of grass. Or snow, it was winter. They had no neighbours either, they both enjoyed the quiet too much. It was peaceful. And the fact that no one but family and friends knew where they lived was a bonus. Otherwise there would have been a few people at his doorstep asking for autographs.
Despite the fact that Teddy lived with them, Harry had been feeling lonely for a few months now. Why, you may ask yourself, would he be lonely this very fine winter?
It had something to do with Draco not being with him. The blond had been away on a business trip for just shy of three months now. He had told Harry that he would be away for four months, maybe less if he got lucky.
For the past three months Harry had been missing his husband immensely. He had even gone to bed in tears a few nights because the bed felt so big for just him and too cold without the warmth of his husband. He missed getting cuddled to sleep, he missed waking up to Draco pressing small kisses to his neck.
And more so he hated the fact that Draco couldn't be here today, on their second anniversary.
That was right. On this day, exactly two years ago, they had been married at the Burrow. It still brought a smile to his face when he thought about it. He remembered seeing Molly and a heavily pregnant Hermione sobbing into their husbands’ shoulders. Narcissa had been there too, but she had left after congratulating the two. He remembered Ron passing out on the table after eating too much and how Fred and George drew on his face with pink ink. He still had the pictures; not that Ron knew, of course. Ginny had told the guests embarrassing stories about him while Pansy had done the same for Draco. He still remembered the embarrassment on his husband's face. And he was pretty sure he saw another cat try to impress Mcgonagall while she was in her animagus form.
“C'mon Dad! We have to get to the Weasley's for dinner!” Teddy exclaimed, drawing him out of his thoughts in the process.
“I'm coming Teddy.” He sighed, making his way over to the fireplace, where he was sure Teddy was standing, with the help of his walking stick. “You remember how to floo there?” he asked once Teddy held his hand.
“Yup!” he said, popping out the p.
He went first. Teddy had insisted he was old enough to go last (he was 8). But secretly it was because he wanted to make sure Harry got there safely.
He threw the floo powder and yelled out, “The Burrow,” before feeling that sickening feeling he always got when he travelled in a magical way. Using the floo was a lot more tolerable than apparating or using a portkey though, so he tolerated it.
In a moment he stumbled out of the fireplace in the burrow, landing on his arse. Well that was embarrassing, he thought as he felt his face heat up. Blind or not, he would always get out the floo like that. Normally he would've had Draco to catch him on the other end.
He carefully moved out of the way and let Teddy come through. He was getting dragged out of the kitchen by a small child as soon as he stood.
“Uncle Harry! Come on! Everyone is waiting for you and Teddy!” exclaimed the voice of Victoire Weasley, Bill and Fluer's six year old daughter.
“Calm down, Vic. I'm coming. Do you see Teddy?” Harry asked her. She seemed to have calmed down a bit too.
“I'm right here Harry.” Teddy's voice said from behind them.
Teddy held Harry's unoccupied hand and the three walked to the sitting room, with Victoire skipping a bit as she walked.
“How are you uncle Harry?” Victoire chirped up from his left. He could vaguely imagine her smiling as she said this.
“I’m doing well, Vic. How are you and your sister? Not fighting much, are you?” Harry asked her.
“Nope. Domi and I don't fight anymore. She likes to play dress up with me sometimes!” she explained excitedly, jumping a little as she walked. Domi was short for Dominique, Victoire’s four year old sister. They hadn't been getting along well for the last few weeks.
“That's great, Vic!” he said, before almost getting knocked over when someone with bushy hair hugged him tightly. Hermione.
“Oh, Harry! I missed you!” Hermione cried out happily.
“I missed you too Hermy.” He sighed when Hermione let go. Harry loved her hugs, but they could be really strong. And tight.
“Hey mate,” Ron greeted him, giving him a side hug.
As Harry was about to reply, he felt something tugging at the leg of his trousers. He could hear whoever it was, gurgling and babbling.
“Ree! Up! Up!” the child demanded. Her voice was slightly high pitched and babyish. She called him ‘Ree’ but it sounded more like she was saying the letter ‘E’. Her voice wasn't as familiar to him as everyone else's were.
He bent down and held the tiny hands that were holding his trouser leg. He carried her and placed her on his hip. He could feel little fingers tugging at his messy black hair almost instantly.
“That's Rosie. She learnt to say your name a few days ago.” Hermione told him with a fond laugh. He could almost imagine the pretty smile on her face as she did so.
“That explains why I didn't recognise her voice that well,” Harry mumbled quietly and let Rose play with his fingers.
“You've heard her talk before, y'know?” Ron pointed out, “it's just been a few months since you did though, so you might not have remembered.”
“Right, yeah. How long has it been since I last met her? I swear she wasn't walking this well last time I met her.” Harry asked. Then again, it had probably been a few weeks or months since he last went to meet Rose. Of course he had met up with Ron and Hermione a few times after then, but they didn't really bring Rose along most times.
“2 months, I reckon.” He heard Ron say. He could imagine Ron scratching his head as he said this. It made him smile slightly.
“Hey Harry!” He heard the Weasley Twins say mischievously. He could very easily imagine the identical cheeky smirks they had on their faces.
“Hello Fred, hi George,” he said hesitantly. He gave Rose back to Hermione as she had started to get fussy. He could hear Ron and Hermione walk over to the kitchen.
“So Harry,” Fred started.
“We were thinking-” George continued.
“That’s dangerous,” Harry cut him off. And it was. It was really dangerous.
“Oh, Harry-”
“Don't be like that-”
“We were only wondering if-”
“You wanted to play a small game with us,” George finished off with a chuckle.
Harry knew that it was going to be dangerous if he were to play a small game with them. They were The Twins for Merlin's sake! He would have been better off babysitting the bloody acromantula! Yet he still agreed.
“That's wonderful!” Fred said joyously.
“What game is it this time?” He asked. He could feel the regret and fear crawling up his spine already.
“Not to worry, Harry!” George assured, but his assurance was normally said to not be trusted. Especially when both twins are involved.
“All you have to do is guess who's standing in front of ya!” Fred added cheerily.
That did ease his fear a little. They had played this game before. The twins loved playing this game for some reason. He didn't exactly know why.
“Again? Haven't we played this before already?” Harry said, but he was glad that he wouldn't be a test subject for their crazy inventions.
“That we have!”
“But we love this game!”
“Right. Yeah. Why do you like this game?”
“We like seeing the surprise on people's faces when you say their name.”
“Quite amusing really. They get surprised far too easily.”
“What do they think would happen? I'm blind, not stupid!” Harry said indignantly. He regretted it as soon as the last sentence was spoken.
“You are a bit stupid.”
“No no Fred, I believe the word you're looking for is oblivious.”
“Right you are, Georgie! Remember how long it took him to realise dear old Draco was flirting with him?”
“I believe it took him exactly 7 years.”
“Alright, alright! I get it. I’m stupid. Can we play the game already!” Harry snapped, blushing a bright red in embarrassment.
“Snappy much,” he heard Fred stage whisper to George, making him groan aloud. Sometimes the twins could be a bit infuriating. But only a bit.
“Righty-O! Let's get started then!” the twins announced in unison.
He heard the clicking of shoes before it stopped in front of him. He could feel one of the twins place his hand on the other person's head.
He stood there for a bit, wondering who it was. The person he was touching was short. The hair he was touching felt silky and a tad bit wavy. He gently dragged his hand through the hair, stopping only when there wasn't any hair left. The hair seemed to be cut just below the person's ears.
Harry knew exactly who this was. There was only one person he knew who had hair this short and was this short.
He smirked.
“Ginny,” he said with confidence.
“What! How did you know!” she shrieked out in disbelief.
“You're the only one I know who has hair this short. And you are quite short,” he responded.
“At least I'm average height! You're not even close to that,” she retorted.
“O-kay! Let's do another person then!” George said, seemingly dragging Ginny away from him before she said something else.
Once again, his hand was placed on top of a person’s head.
However, this person was a lot more taller than him, making it a bit difficult to keep his hand up. This person's hair was also a lot more softer and silkier. Harry swore his hair was softer than clouds. He only knew of one person whose hair was as soft, but he wasn't here today.
He could smell the person too, from how close they were standing next to each other. He smelt like sweet caramel and citrus. An odd combination, but Harry found that it smelt delightful. He could even smell small hints of expensive cologne in the mix.
But... wait.
This person smelt like Draco.
He smelt exactly like him.
Harry froze.
This person couldn't be Draco. Draco wasn't here yet. He wasn't supposed to be here yet. He had told him, in person, that he would be away for four months. It had only been three.
But this person smelt of the exact same sweet caramel and citrus scent that Draco had always smelt off. Even back when they were enemies. The clothes that Harry was wearing even smelt the same, if not a bit diluted.
Even his hair felt the same! Soft and silky and short.
These were all things that were specifically just Draco.
He felt two hands hold his free hand. While one turned his hand over palm up and held it, the other tapped a small rhythm onto his forearm.
Tap. Pause. Tap. Tap.
Harry let a small gasp escape his lips.
That was the small tapping sequence Draco always did to Harry when he was spacing out or scared.
This was Draco.
The person chuckled lightly.
“Like wearing my clothes, do you?” he teased, his voice deep and familiar and oh so soothing to Harry's ears.
“Draco?” Harry asked, choking back a sob.
Draco hummed.
“You're back!” he said, his voice cracking at the end as he put his arms around Draco's shoulders and hugged him. He could vaguely hear Mrs. Weasley ushering everyone out of the living room.
“I am,” the blond replied, circling his arms around his husband's waist.
“You said you wouldn't be back in time for our anniversary,” he sniffed, burying his head in his husband's sweater.
“I lied,” He said simply.
“Fuck you, Draco,” he whispered.
“Apologies my love, but I'm fairly certain it's the other way around,” he joked, leaving a small kiss on Harry's neck.
Harry laughed.
They stayed silent, enjoying each other's warm embrace. Occasionally Draco would leave a small kiss on Harry's neck or head, while the brunett would hug the other tighter, not wanting to ever let go.
“Happy anniversary, Harry.”
“Happy anniversary, Draco.”