Disclaimer: Oh yes, my name is secretly J.K.Rowling and I'm a millionaire, and that's why I'm posting here and whishing for money for my birthday... And if you believed any of that, you need a serious realitycheck.
Rain
Rain.
Rain is a constant, my only constant, since you've been gone. Rain on my windows, rain in my soul. Doesn't matter which, really, it's one or the other.
Only rain. Darkness.
I watch the rain tickling down the glass of the window in my room, and I think of you.
Somehow, everything we did always connected to the rain.
Our first real conversation, the first time we both saw each other for what we really were.
It was in my seventh year and we were in your dungeons, right after a particularly nasty Occlumency-lesson. I think you might have felt a bit bad about your treatment of me after seeing those memories. Memories of time spent out in the rain. At 3, curled up on the doorstep of number 4, frightened. At 5, sitting in the darkness of the garden, trying to finish an impossible chore, cold. At 8, hurrying home from school to begin the chores of the day, watching as parents picked up their children and hurried to find shelter, lonely. At 13, sitting on my trunk in the darkness, angry. At 15, sitting on a swing in an empty playground, hopeless. Seems all of my life has some connection to the rain. Huh. Can't really say I'm surprised.
And we saw.
You saw a boy all alone. Sat upon a pedestal in a world that doesn't tolerate less than perfect. Given three lemons and told to make a dessert fit for all the worlds royalty. A boy with friends in name only. For the first time, you saw the boy beneath the mask of the hero. And I saw a man without trust. Noone to trust, and noone to be trusted by. A man who had lived his entire life in ridicule and scorn. A man as alone as I was.
We spent that first night talking. About the past. The present. Our selves. The price of peas in Africa. Everything and anything, it didn't matter as long as we kept on talking. Kept on satisfying the need for having someone understand us. Of cause you didn't say as much but I could still see it in your eyes. The need for shelter from the rain.
It was raining that night.
Seems to me it always did. It always will.
But that night, we built a shelter big enough for two and we stayed there together. Dry. Warm. And most importantly, not alone.
It was raining that night as well.
As we gathered together with the Aurors who had volunteered. As we portkeyed to our destination. As we stormed his stronghold. As he and I engaged our predestined battle. As I finished him off and turned around, just in time to see you taking a curse for me. As we looked into each others eyes for the last time, acknowledging what we had never uttered in words. As I buried you a week later, trying to fend off all the well-wishers. Noone knew. Only Albus and Minerva came. Noone else cared enough to leave their celebrations.
How I hated them all. And yet, I was grateful for not having to deal with them.
How I miss you.
I'm tired of being wet. Of being cold. Of being alone.
But I won't be for long. The Dursleys won't care, except to be grateful for the extra room. I've sent Hedwig off with a letter to Albus and Minerva, and a note asking Albus to take care of her. She and Fawkes has become good friends, and I am content in the knowledge that she will be cared for. I can rest in peace.
It is still raining outside, but soon the rain inside me will stop. I will be with you in a place where the sun shines just for us.
And we will be dry. And warm. And together.