disclaimer: i own nothiiiiiiiiiiing
It was a rainy day. She hated rainy days. They always made her feel so...sad and sort of depressed.
Grey clouds, rain drops hitting the the solid walls of the house, lightening and thunder were present sometimes as well. There was always that wind that made her so uncomfortable. Sometimes she felt like the whole house would be blown away.
She couldn't go outside, she couldn't meet up with her friends because of all the security put up. She had only her book, her cat, her hot chocolate, her spot on the rug in front of the fire, pillows, sometimes TV and movies. That's why she hated rainy days. And even if rain wasn't uncommon for England, it always seemed to put her out.
Although, she loved rainy days when HE was around. They always go out in the garden, wet drops on their foreheads, their feet practically drowning in all the puddles. He twirled her around, she pulled him down, they fell onto the sopping grass. They would watch the rain pour on the trees when they were out of breath, although she suspected he really just watched her hair getting a darker by the second. But then their energy would be quickly renewed, and soon they would be jumping around again, positively freaking out the neighbors.
But he wasn't around now, he hadn't been around for a fortnight, and it had been raining for a whole week. Anybody who had at least met her would know she could drop it at any moment. That was another problem: Order missions and Auror missions kept him away. She positively loathed those bloody missions by now. She loathed waking up and going to sleep alone, she loathed the fact that she KNEW she was cooking just for herself, but still made sure to leave a little for him, in case he gets back when she's sleeping. Although she rarely SLEEPS, it would be more like closing her eyes and thinking if him.
So today, like every other day of this horrible week, she was moping, trying to find something to do while the rain poured and he wasn't home. At some point she usually just fell asleep, but today she was feeling oddly energetic, and the usual definition of moping (sitting on the couch, nose buried in his shirt, or lying on the floor, looking at the ceiling, trying to remember the last time she had a bath) was replaced by her energetic moping (frantically walking around the house, searching for something to do, and bumping into the cat every ten seconds). That was rare.
She was energetically moping around today, and the severe case of energetic moping was nothing compared to her usual moping, mostly because if she didn't find something to do, quick, she would just result in breaking random things, burning their old essays (that she had insisted they keep as a reminder of their Hogwarts days), or even re-decorating the house, that also goes by the meaning of cutting the curtains in the living room in half, or drawing little circles and stars on the spare room walls with a marker. So in conclusion, she immediately had to find something to do.
And because the universe had decided that today wasn't going to be a usual-kind of day, she quickly found an answer to all her problems: the attic.
As she sat on the dusty, cold, wooden floor, surrounded by brown and quite damp cardboard boxes, watching the grey sky and rhythmic drips of water from the two little triangle-shaped windows, she resorted into doing a spring cleaning (although it was more like an autumn cleaning, but it sounded better with 'spring').
She took the first box. 'Easter'. Nothing interesting in there. Next one was ' Birthdays'. They had just carried this one up about a month ago, after Frank's birthday party. She had been quite drunk then. After that came 'Halloween'. No need of that yet, she decided, and put it back in its place. She went through a couple more decoration-full boxes, including ones labeled 'Christmas', New Year', ' Irish Stuff' and 'Valentines day'. She still couldn't believe she had agreed to keep the 'Irish stuff' box. If Sirius liked that day so much, he could keep it at his place! Bloody dog, she murmured to herself (she had heard talking to yourself was the first sign to insanity, but she didn't really give a damn).
At the west end of the attic (not that she had an idea of directions, but she clearly remembered Remus saying, in his best professional tone, that the windows were facing south) something caught her eye. The same cardboard boxes were stocked in a tower-like structure,decorated with red swirls and gold stripes. She clearly remembered those boxes. Making her way, as fast as she could without bumping her head on the low ceiling, she grabbed the nearest box, spilling out its contents eagerly, but still careful enough not to be too rough with the leather-covered volumes falling out.
She picked one with a red-brownish cover and yellowing paper (assuming it was from the humidity), delicately opening the time-worn scrapbook excitement shining in her eyes. A few pieces of paper fell out, she picked them up first. "Minnie lookin' gooood" Was scrawled on the back, in Sirius' immediately recognizable, messy font. She turned it around. Professor McGonagall was obviously unaware of her secret admirer. Her hair was down, her dark robes replaced by a light-blue bath robe and matching slippers. She looked furious.
The next scrap of parchment she picked up was a letter from James. He had been away then, not undercover, for which she was eternally grateful, and she was practically jumping and screaming with glee. She tucked it in the pouch on the inside of the album, right after reading it.
The other loose photos were of a drunk Sirius, but that wasn't very uncommon, so she didn't pay them a lot of attention. What caught her eye though was that one picture- it was a muggle one, and she could easily call it her favorite. It was at the end if the third book she opened, and by then she had passed by her and James' marriage, graduation, the Marauders crashing her hen night, their food fight in the kitchens, house elfs staring wide-eyed, but still amused, the famous Marauders' beach vacation and their trip to Paris (and of course Peter with cheese and baguettes and grapes in his mouth in the background of nearly every single one of the pictures).But as magical as the other ones were, this one was unique. It was just her, bookish Lily Evans, and him- simply amazing James Potter.
They were jumping out in the rain.
Clad in only his bright red and her flashy green rain boots, shorts and over-sized shirts, holding hands and twirling around, like the love-stricken idiots they were.
And suddenly- if you asked her, she wouldn't've been able to explain- she just HAD to get out- she had to go out. Out in the pouring rain, grey skies and mushy ground. Out in the wind, the cold, the neighbors peeking through their the top windows.
She just needed to.
Dashed through the house, flashy green green boots on, not bothering to change from his boxer shorts and his Puddlemere United shirt, not bothering to tame her hair even a bit, she let the rain engulf her.
She lied down. She felt the soppy ground underneath. She felt the raindrops wetting her skin.
She felt it.
She almost felt like he was here again.
Only wasn't really. He was probably far, far away... But still incredibly close.
Guess she didn't hate rainy days that much.
Just highly disliked them at some point.