The rain came crashing down across the residents of number 12 Grimmauld Place, drenching each and every person. Someone muttered the password and they all piled inside, laughing and breathless from the cold rain mixed with the warm breeze. He came walking down the stairs from the library and saw her, too-big black t-shirt- one of his- soaked onto her skin, denim shorts two shades too dark, hair plastered to her neck, water running down her skin in strange rivulets. She found his eyes on her and blushed, tucking back her hair. He smiled. To him, she looked absolutely perfect.
