Rain
A/N: I'm currently writing a lot of pointless oneshots... Enjoy?
She wonders why she thinks of him when it rains.
Why she thinks of him constantly.
She hates that she has barely spared a moments thought for the two constants in her life; her youngest brother and best friend. But they were with him, so no matter what, they would somehow be okay.
She wouldn't be. Things seemed... empty without him.
It always had been the way when she had watched him from afar. The dull ache that was her heart without him was now more like a scathing burning; a constant reminder to her that she had got what she had wanted for so long, but now couldn't have it.
She didn't want to think of him.
Because, quite simply, no amount of bodily harm could possible hurt more than knowing he was wandering off somewhere, more lost without her then it could possibly seem.
Well, she wanted to believe he missed her. She had had a crush on him for as long as she could remember, and was in love with him a day less then that.
She didn't know how not to think of him.
And it hurt even more when she looked at the photos, when he was young and borderline carefree, and even more then that when she went up to Ron's room and his pyjamas lay folded and ironed on the foot of his camp bed. The spare pillow still smelt like him, like broomsticks and soap mingled with the slight Quidditch-induced sweat that could be horrid, yet on him was slightly exciting.
As she lay in her bed, toes fiddling with a moth hole in her sheets, windows fogging up as the rain fell down through the darkness that you could almost hear, she wondered why.
Why she would imagine him walking determinedly through the rain up the road, his best friends trailing slightly behind his half-run as he made his way back to her.
Why she pictured him with the slight black stubble of a beard sitting in a little tent, rain beating on the canvas as he wrote her a letter full of notions of dedication and love by the dim light of his wand; a letter he would never send.
Why she would lay awake in the inexplicable quiet that was four AM, listening to the rain beat down and think of him.
Why she was dreaming of grand, overly romantic gestures to make that spot in her feel a little less empty just for the infinite moment when she believed it could be real.
Must just be the rain.