Chapter two
Being in the hospital was easy. Everyone treated you well and some even knew how to communicate. It made Draco feel less lonely at times, but being back at Hogwarts made him feel like shit. He'd been in class for a week now and not once had a person tried to communicate with him more than once. Once they found out he couldn't hear, they were gone. He couldn't even communicate with his best friends. Turns out, Blaise hadn't kept up with his studies over the summer. His hand movements were sloppy and he mistook some signs for others and it just wasn't possible to hold a conversation with him. He had to give it to him though he was trying. Other people in his house and around the school didn't even attempt. Not even the professors, instead they would all write down instructions on a scrap piece of parchment and give it to him halfway through class.
Draco was tired. He had even more homework than ever, due to the neglect he had been facing in class, and he never talked to anybody. He had started to feel the same way he had felt back at the manor. He had no motivation anymore. The work was piling up and he couldn't bring himself to do anything. He had started to skip his classes, instead lying in his bed. When someone tried to check up, he would brush them away. Not that anyone would understand anyway. It was all starting to fall apart. He desperately needed to talk to someone.
Walking into the empty classroom, Draco had spotted Professor McGonagall. They weren't close, but whenever he needed something and couldn't turn to anyone else, McGonagall was the one he went to.
Taking out a notepad, he walked over to her desk. She was marking an essay, that surely wasn't Draco's, he hadn't had the time for that yet. Out of all the professors, McGonagall was the one who put in the most effort. She gave him extra help when needed, and even gave extensions on some of his assignments due to the fact she couldn't explain it very well to him. She had recommended that he go down to the library, and get the books that would explain what she couldn't. In a way, it helped him a ton. She would provide the books needed, Draco would go down and get them, and he'd finish his assignments easily. It wasn't hard, so why couldn't anyone else do what McGonagall did?
'Can we talk?'
Professor McGonagall read the note, then moved to get her quill.
'Of course, Draco, what about?'
'I don't know, I guess I just need someone to talk to. No one will even make the effort to try and communicate with me so...'
'I'm sorry Draco, I have tried to convince some students to learn how to sign, so you could work on group projects, but no one has tried.'
'I know. How's your learning coming along though?'
McGonagall put down her quill, smiling slightly.
'I think I've got the basics down.'
Draco couldn't believe it. The motions weren't sloppy, and the meanings were matching up. He had to admit, it was impressive.
McGonagall had always been his favorite professor, though he would never admit it out loud. Everyone thought it was Snape, which made sense, but he would never come close to Professor McGonagall. He didn't even think she knew that. She was a brilliant woman. When a student would ask a question she didn't know the answer to, she never hesitated to learn the topic in the library that night and inform them the next morning. She could learn things quickly, and she was insightful. Back when Draco could still hear, the way she would explain things just made sense no matter the weird words she used. She always said she could explain things well with her voice to make up for the fact that she was utterly rubbish at writing an explanation.
Draco started to tear up.
'You don't know how long I have waited for this.'
'I know, and I'm sorry it took me so long. I assure you that I'm not perfect yet, but I will get there.'
'Well, you aren't bad, better than Blaise ever was.'
Those words made McGonagall laugh. Even though it was a professor, it was nice to be able to talk to someone. Suddenly McGonagall's head swiftly turned to her right. Following her action, Draco saw a student in the doorway. Something was said between the two, and then the student left. Looking back at the Professor, she had a look on her face.
'I'm sorry Draco, I've got to go, The headmaster called.'
With that, she got up and left the room.
You've got to be kidding me. Are you fucking serious? As soon as he could finally talk to someone, it was immediately stripped away from him. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why did everything bad seem to be happening to him all of a sudden? He stood up, pushing the chair to the floor. All he wanted was to talk to someone, and he couldn't even have that. Draco ran. He wasn't sure where he was going to go but he had to go somewhere. It was 8, one hour till curfew. He couldn't go too far.
Draco found himself walking up countless flights of stairs. The astronomy tower was somewhere he used to go all the time. Whether he was upset, needed to be alone, happy, it didn't matter Draco was almost always at the tower in his free time. Draco climbed the last step and looked out to the night sky. It was beautiful. Maybe that's what had calmed him over the years. The sky.
As he sat down near the ledge he came to a realization. Maybe he hadn't realized sooner because he was so focused on everything else, or maybe it had taken a bit of time to process, but that didn't matter. Draco was deaf. This wasn't something that was going to get fixed. This wasn't temporary. This was forever. Draco was never going to hear another voice again. He was never going to talk to someone who was his age ever again. No one knew how to communicate. He was alone.
A pang of sadness hit him again, but this time it felt different. Usually, his sadness was temporary, whether it was a low grade on something he worked hard on, or he had lost his favorite sweater, but this time it just felt different. Like a wave had flushed over him and wasn't going to pass over any time soon.
Draco hadn't cried in a long time. He was taught it showed weakness, and Malfoy's weren't weak. When he was younger he would be punished if he cried. And if he cried while he was being punished, it would take longer. The bruises would be bigger, they cut deeper. All of this couldn't stop him from crying this time. The tears streamed down his face and his vision blurred. It was cold up here. His shoulders were shaking and his breath was heavy. He could barely breathe. He tried so hard to make the tears stop. To go away. He tried taking deep breaths, but it just made him sob harder. There was nothing else he could do. He was alone. Forever.
His head shot up as he felt a hand on his shoulder.