AN: I don't own a thing, hats off to JKR and to rain. Inspired by Six weeks by Of Monsters and Men, I wouldn't usually update so soon but I'm going away for a bit so...
It had been a beautiful day. She thought it still was. The clouds had broken just after supper, sending students scurrying indoors, making the old castle walls damp and the corridors loud with the sound of condensed people and wet robes.
He was unexplainable uncomfortable about being dry in weather like this. He watched it from a colonnade that overlooked the grounds. Watched it softly digging up the earth and unleashing that raw fresh scent. It made everything new and clean.
There was just something about rain, it made everything more. More muffled, more rhythmical, more charged. The air of a rainstorm was always filled with a particular kind of energy. A magic so unlike the one they were learning to control. A natural force to be reckoned with.
It made her want to dance, she could feel the pitter patter tempting her soul and feet. She forgot her coat, she forgot everything, stepped into the flurry of raindrops and swirling leaves. She began to dance.
He hummed a tune to the beat of the downpour, fingers tapping the ancient stone, mind drifting. His eyes trailed up and over his head, following the gentle bend of the archway he leant on, then out into the storm.
He saw the trees swaying to the melody buzzing in his mind, the wind took the grass on a feaverish frisk across the field. Her fluttering dress caught his eye, she was all movement, an embodiment of the raging weather.
Her blue and brown tied her white-gold hair back from her face, he soaked up her delicate features. She was doing what he wished he was. Dancing.
All at once he needed to have seen this before, seen her. Her indifference and beauty radiated through the rain. He realised he wanted to be there, out there, with that crazy ivory girl, with wild eyes and messy footfalls.
His feet took the stairs at a great speed, quickening beat, louder, stronger. His heart kept pace. Hands feverishly tapping the banister as he descended. Pushed through the throng of students, the stuffiness and humidity, the normality.
And he was there, in the open air, the spray on his face, the music in his lungs.
And she turned to see him. She took in the taller bedraggled boy and the cautious understanding man. She smiled a confused but knowing smile. He heard the music too.
"Dance with me?" Her words were soft in volley of water. Luna Lovegood was always good with words. Always knew what to say.
"Alright..." Dean Thomas had never been one for words, unless they were to a tune. She didn't seem to mind that his tongue was inept.
She took his dark hand in her light one, pulled him into the moment. Twirling through the deluge, sinking and sliding into the mud with each step, they relished in the shower of song.
Hands entwined, she thought they looked like a page of sheet music, yet to be written.
Harmony.
AN: Hope you liked it, please to tell me what you think...