Disclaimers:  I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

Notes:  Harry daydreams in class then goes to spend the afternoon with Draco.

Shadows of Truth

Part Sixteen

It had been almost two days since Harry had last seen Professor Snape.  Here he was, sitting in Charms class, and he was
thinking about Snape.  He didn’t understand it.  He shook his head.  What did it matter that Snape hadn’t come out of that
workroom?  It meant he was working on the cure for Draco’s blindness, so that was something to be happy about.  Besides, it
also meant that he hadn’t had to take the brunt of the man’s anger during his classes, since Professor Snape had canceled
them.  Of course, the only one unhappy about that was Hermione.

“Mister Potter?”  Professor Flitwick’s voice was filled with concern.  “Mister Potter . . . Class has ended.  Shouldn’t you be
going to lunch?”

Harry looked around in alarm when he noticed that he was the only student remaining.  Honestly, he hadn’t known his mind
had wandered for such a long time.  He flushed, embarrassed and began to pack his supplies away.  “I’m terribly sorry,
Professor,” Harry apologized, feeling like a right fool.

Flitwick shook his head with a good-natured chuckle.  “Not at all, my boy.  With all that has happened to young Mister Malfoy,
it is understandable that you would be preoccupied.  Don’t forget to check with Miss Granger on missed notes.”

Harry smiled at the diminutive instructor before he hurried from the room.  All of the teachers were being very understanding,
since they knew of Harry’s relationship with Draco.  It was nice of them all to care so much.

Walking briskly, he made his way down to the kitchens, as he had been given permission to do so before every meal.  He
thanked Dobby as the House Elf handed him a covered tray, a tray which held lunch for both Harry and Draco.  And
considering Dobby had handed it to him today, there was probably an extra treat stowed away inside for them.  Dobby did like
to spoil both Harry and Draco, though Harry wasn’t quite sure why Dobby liked to indulge the blonde as much as he seemed
to.  He had never asked, but then again, it probably wasn’t anything dramatic.

Carrying lunch, he headed for Snape’s room.  Dumbledore had been more than understanding and was allowing Harry to eat
with Draco in the privacy of Snape’s rooms.  This was a good thing, because Draco was incredibly uncomfortable and
nervous now that he couldn’t see anything.  It was bad enough that he couldn’t attend classes or even leave the Professor’s
rooms.  It simply wasn’t safe for him anywhere else.  Draco had yet to point out his attackers, which he had to do by sight.  
Harry didn’t quite understand why they couldn’t take Draco’s word on the matter, but sometimes he was a little dense on
wizard laws.

Harry smiled as he entered Snape’s quarters and headed into the dark bedroom.  “Sorry I’m late.”  He said, walking over to sit
on the bed next to Draco.  He set the tray down on the bed and leaned over to wrap an arm around the blonde’s shoulders.  “I
was terribly preoccupied with wondering how Snape was doing with the potion to help you.  I didn’t even notice class had
ended and everyone had left.”  He rubbed Draco’s back.  “Any news?”

Draco shook his head.  “If there’s been any progress, he hasn’t told me.”  The blonde shrugged, closing his eyes for a
moment.  “Not like he’s even come out of that workroom.  At least, I haven’t heard him come out.”

“I’m sure he’s making progress,” Harry said, trying to sound encouraging.  “Ready to eat?  I brought lunch.”

Draco nodded once.  Harry let out a breath, worrying for Draco.  It wasn’t like him to be so despondent.  Then again, he was
impaired.  It must be terribly boring for him to just sit there in the dark all day long while Harry was in class.  He decided that
he would just have to figure out a way to make it up to him.

They ate quietly.  Draco didn’t quite have the hang of eating without sight, so Harry had to help him.  It frustrated Draco,
Harry knew that.  But there was little either of them could do about it.  Harry just tried to give Draco as many opportunities to
take care of himself as he could.

When lunch was finished with, Harry set the empty plates back on the tray and set them all on the floor.  He’d take care of
them later.  For now, he wanted to spend time with Draco.  “How are you feeling?”  He asked, brushing his hand over Draco’s

“I’m blind.  How do you think I feel?”  Draco responded curtly.

“Sorry.  I’m just worried about you.”

Draco bowed his head, closing his eyes.  “No, I’m the one who should be sorry.  I shouldn’t have snapped at you.  I just . . .
it’s so frustrating.  I want to see you.”  He frowned, reaching out blindly to caress Harry’s cheek in return.

Harry picked up a book from the table by the bed, holding it up even though he knew that Draco couldn’t see the action.  “Do
you want me to read to you again?”  He asked.  He had read to Draco a number times already.  Draco seemed to enjoy it.

“No,” Draco replied wearily.  “I’m feeling tired.  I think I’m just going to lie down.”  Even as he said it, he scooted down until
he was reclining, though he winced now and again when the movement hurt his many aches.

“Okay.”  Harry smiled, gently bringing the blankets around Draco snugly.  He leaned down and kissed Draco’s forehead.  

Draco closed his eyes.  He was asleep in moments.

Feeling restless, Harry stood up and began wandering around.  He didn’t feel like going back down to the kitchen to return the
tray yet.  Nor was he tired enough for a nap.  So he just idly moved through Snape’s rooms, looking at the books on the
shelves without really taking notice of the titles.  He simply walked around, not having any true purpose in mind.

Then, his eyes began to wander to that mysterious portrait again.  The only one in this room.  He still didn’t know why Snape
kept it covered with that curtain.  He knew that he shouldn’t look though.  Snape had warned him not to.  He usually took
Snape’s warnings very seriously.  But, what was so important about a simple portrait?

His curiosity eventually won out and Harry stepped over to the portrait.  He raised his hand, his fingers brushing the soft cloth
obscuring his view.  He turned, looking to the door to the workroom, hoping that Snape wouldn’t catch him in the act.  Then,
carefully and slowly, he pulled back the curtain.

He blinked, truly stunned by the image.  It was a portrait of a rather lovely young woman.  She was beautiful, with sculpted
cheekbones and delicate lips.  Her hair was pitch black and hung in graceful waves around her shoulders.  She was smiling, her
blue eyes seeming to light up with happiness.  In her arms, she held onto a laughing child, no more than four years old at
most.  The child was the spitting image of the woman who held onto her.  Harry almost knew for certain that they were
mother and daughter.  The nameplate at the bottom of the picture read, “Odette and Leila.”

It was then that a hand clamped on his wrist, roughly yanking him away from the portrait.  His eyes widened, seeing that
Professor Snape had caught him.  He guessed his luck wasn’t keeping up with him.

“Mister Potter, I thought I had told you to mind your own business,” The Professor said in an eerily calm voice, his eyes
glinting with fury.  He shoved Harry’s hand away, pushing the Gryffindor back a few paces.

“Sir, I was only curious about why you keep it covered.”  Harry was trying to limit the trouble he was already in.

His words fell on deaf ears though.  “Get out.  Now,” he growled with a barely controlled voice.  His hands were shaking.  
That simple fact left Harry concerned.  Just what had he uncovered?

Snape grabbed his shoulder and shoved him toward the door.  Harry thought it would be better to obey him right now.  There
was no telling what he would do if Harry ignored his demands.

Harry left, frowning when the door was slammed shut behind him.  What was he going to do now?  What if Snape didn’t let
him come back?  What would Draco do?

Concerned, Harry returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, fully intending to tell Ron and Hermione everything he had
learned.  Maybe they could help him figure out who Odette and Leila were.  If he had the answers, maybe he’d know what to
do, how to fix the horrible mess he had made.

To Be Continued . . .