Author's note: This is not a songfic. The title is the same as a song by James Blunt, but that's the only similarity. Apart from that, nothing much to say. Not mine, as usual. I typed this really fast, so if you see any typos, please let me know.

Tears and rain
Kyra

Draco Malfoy was not crying. He was far too proud to cry. The water running down his cheeks was merely rain, washing his pain away. He didn't move as the rain intensified, pelting down on him like a single, unbroken sheet of water. His clothes were soaked, but he barely noticed. They didn't matter. All that mattered was the pain, the mind-numbing agony that was worse every time he allowed himself to think. Mostly, he did his best not to.

The footsteps behind him were masked by the rain, but he turned anyway. She was there, her red hair glimmering wetly around her, her brown eyes compassionate. He said nothing, waiting for her to speak.

"He's waiting for you," she told him.

"Let him wait." His voice was harsh, far harsher than he'd been prepared for.

She sighed. "You know he didn't mean it."

"Yes he did."

She rolled her eyes, and oddly childish gesture on her otherwise adult face. "You're both too stubborn for your own good," she informed him.

"I'm not being stubborn. I'm being rational."

"You're being pig-headed," she snapped, brushing her sopping hair out of her face. "Both of you. Honestly, you'd think you could grow up!"

He scowled. "I didn't ask for your help, you know."

"No, he did."

Draco's eyes widened. "He what!?"

"He asked me to talk to you," she clarified. "He was too afraid to do it himself."

Draco blinked. "Excuse me?"

"He's terrified. It took me ages just to convince him to let me come."

"Why is he afraid?"

She rolled her eyes again. "Maybe because you ran out the door cursing his name and vowing never to speak to him again?"

"He was the one at fault," Draco said stiffly.

She threw her hands up into the air. "Oh, you're impossible! Just listen to yourself! You'd think you didn't want to forgive him!"

"And maybe I don't," he said, his voice barely audible above the pounding rain.

She froze, her eyes wide. "Don't you?" she breathed.

He shrugged, unwilling to answer.

She scowled, propping one hand on her hip and thrusting the other into his face. "Now you listen here Draco," she growled. "This is killing him. You didn't see him, didn't listen to him trying to hide the tears. It will break him completely if you don't go back to him!"

"He should have thought of that before he spoke, then."

"And just how much of that exchange did you mean?" she shot back. "He has as much of a temper as you do."

"He started it." Draco knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he couldn't help it.

She grimaced. "And you are no longer five years old. Does it matter who started it?"

Draco didn't answer, and she sighed. "He is in pain," she insisted. "Are you honestly telling me that you are just going to leave him like this?"

He kept silent, and she sighed again, this time in exasperation. "Look, don't give up on him, all right? He needs you." She waited a beat, then sighed once more and walked away, leaving him standing in the downpour, the raindrops dripping down his cheeks at a steady rate.

Finally, he sighed. He knew that she was right, knew that he was being silly. They were only words. He'd known ever as he stormed out that his lover hadn't meant them. But could he go back? Would his fierce pride allow him to admit his mistake?

He knew that, in the end, he didn't have a choice. He couldn't leave his lover now, couldn't live with himself if he walked away now. But it wouldn't be easy.

He walked slowly towards the house, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. He paused at the door, his hand hovering briefly over the door handle before pushing it open. His loved was there, ebony hair wilder than usual with the humidity, emerald eyes hidden by tanned, capable hands. He looked up as Draco entered, and those beautiful eyes widened.

"Draco, I…"

Draco nodded.

"I'm so sorry!"

"I know."

"I don't know why I said it!"

"I know."

"Will you ever forgive me?"

"Always."

And then he was in Draco's arms, sobbing like a child, and Draco was rubbing his back, murmuring soothing words into his hair. They sat like that for a long moment, the blond man holding the black-haired one, their locks melding until they formed a single mass.

Finally, Draco's lover looked up, his face wet with fresh tears. Draco himself wasn't weeping. Malfoys didn't cry, and the moisture on his face was nothing more than leftover raindrops. The two men moved together, kissing each other passionately and holding each other so tightly that tears and rain became one and slid down their bodies to form a pool at their feet.

Hidden in the shadows, Ginny Weasley watched the reunion, a faint smile on her lips. And if she was sad that Harry Potter had chosen someone else, well, Weasleys didn't cry either, and the rain was still coming down hard.