RAIN - A GREAT PLOT DEVICE

(A/N: Right.

I got bored.

And the Internet connection isn't working.

Argh.)

Disclaimer: The song 'Rich Girl' by Gwen Stefani does not belong to me. Duh. Otherwise why would I have said 'by Gwen Stefani'?

She stood, waiting, patiently, listening to the rain pounding on the windows, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting. And waiting.

(A/N: That just shows that usually when I attempt to write something serious, even something as simple as 'she stood there waiting patiently', I just have to make it silly. Somehow.)

She finally spotted the one she had been waiting for. She quickly rushed to him, clinging on to his arm. Rather annoyingly too. She didn't think so, though the one she was clinging to did think so, as she did that quite often.

'Harry!' Cho said, holding on to his arm, as mentioned twice in the last paragraph. 'I've been looking for you everywhere!'

'Get off,' said the one known as Harry, irritated. Cho had become hopelessly stuck on him ever since Michael Corner had dumped her. And apparently since he had become 'hot'.

'Harry…' Cho pleaded.

'Let go of me,' said Harry firmly. She released his wrist. 'I'm not going to go out with you, Cho.'

'But, Harry…'

'No!'

Harry wished that she would stop with the italicizing-his-name-thing already and rolled his eyes inwardly.

'You're going to see that Weasley girl again, aren't you?' she said accusingly. 'She's a blood traitor!'

'Don't call her that,' said Harry angrily, pointing his wand at her face. 'She is not. And I'm a half-blood, in case you haven't noticed.'

'I-I just…'

'Shut up.' Cho fell silent. (A/N: In case anyone's wondering, here Cho's a pure-blood.)

Harry opened his mouth to curse her or something, who knows what, and Cho pulled out a sheet of spare parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink and sank down on the floor against the wall, furiously writing her will, with Harry's wand still following her.

Then Harry remembered what Ginny would say if he cursed her. If he cursed Cho, he could be suspended, possibly even expelled (Harry wasn't sure if being The Boy Who Lived would make a difference in that), and how would Ginny feel? She would pine away for him all day and night until he came back.

For some odd reason, since Harry had come to the realisation that he had become 'hot' over the summer, he had become almost as arrogant as Lockhart.

Harry sighed and his wand went back in his pocket. Cho looked up, slightly relieved.

But he still wanted to do something to her. After all, she deserved it.

He gave her the finger and ran off.

Cho looked after him sadly.

Why didn't he like her anymore?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

She repeated this question over and over and over in her head all the way back to the Ravenclaw common room.

'Existentialism,' she whispered gloomily to the (apparently) window. It opened and she stepped in, the window closing behind her and the view of the room behind it changing back to one of the dark night outside.

Cho used to wonder why that was the password. She didn't even know what it meant until a friend had told her. She'd asked Professor Flitwick why that was the password, and he said obviously because no one but 'smart people' (like the Ravenclaws) knew what it meant.

Cho sat down on a sofa in front of the fire.

Harry used to like her, that's for sure. But now he didn't anymore.

Well, that's enough of Cho. No one really likes her anyway. No offense to any Cho Chang fans out there.

Harry arrived at the library, slightly out of breath. It was late at night, so the library was closed. He looked around carefully and whispered an advanced unlocking charm that he had heard Madam Pince use one early, early morning, back when he still had insomnia. But he didn't have that problem anymore. Oh no. All these late nights out were in fact making him miss breakfast a lot, actually.

He heard and click and opened the door and quickly stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

He surveyed the scene before him and suddenly spotted something red on the giant table used for studying and stuff. He hurried over to her, trying not to run and so appear eager and stopped before a chair.

'You're late,' a muffled voice came from underneath the red hair. Ginny raised her head and looked expectantly at Harry, waiting for an excuse.

Harry sat down beside her. 'I got sidetracked.'

'By what?'

'Cho.'

Ginny sighed. 'That girl needs to get over you.'

'Mm-hmm,' he agreed absently, twisting a curl of red hair around his finger. He didn't want to ruin the mood by telling Ginny what Cho had called her.

'And what did you do?'

'I gave her the finger.'

Ginny laughed. 'Serves her right.'

(insert some sappy romance scene here)

'Good night, Ginny,' Harry said, giving her a goodnight kiss on the cheek. Ginny smiled at him and watched him mount the stairs to the Gryffindor boys' dormitories.

Once the door had closed, Ginny turned and went straight back out of the portrait.

She smiled to herself, thinking of Harry's foolishness. He was so hopelessly in love with her. But she wasn't. No way. Oh sure, he was cute. But she didn't like him. He was a half-blood. He was contaminated. Ginny shuddered at the thought that she had let him kiss her and vowed to wash herself thoroughly once she got back to her dorm.

Someonesuddenly appeared in front of her. 'How did it go?'

'Hi,' said Ginny, gazing at his perfect face (so she thought), his cool grey eyes, his pale, flawless skin.

'Well?'

'It went great,' said Ginny quickly, before he got too impatient.

'Good.'

They stood in silence for a few minutes.

'I expect you to be engaged before May,' said Draco.

Ginny nodded, still staring at him.

'Goodnight.'

'Goodnight,' replied Ginny, resisting the urge to hug him.

Draco walked back to the Slytherin dungeons, Ginny still gazing after him.

Ginny loved him.

Too bad he didn't love her back.

No, he loved Pansy Parkinson.

How she hated her.

Ginny sighed, resigned to the fact that she would never have him as more than a friend.

Never.

The rain was gone.

And so was he.

(A/N: Those last two paragraphs/lines/phrases/sentences were part of a bit of advice from elemental-girl, who told me that rain is a good angst plot device. :D)

As Draco turned the corner, he suddenly lost his stiff posture and instead slumped against the wall. He sighed sadly, thinking of her. He loved her, but she did not. She loved that…that…

Well, he didn't exactly know who she loved, but he could tell she did love someone. Probably that half-blood whatshisname.

Draco hated him, whoever he was.. Hated him because he had something he would never have. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him.

Draco didn't care that he was a half-blood. Draco didn't really care about lineage anymore. Not since he fell in love with her. She changed him.

Unfortunately, Draco could tell that he had changed her as well.

Draco used to care about blood. He used to hate Potter simply because he was a half-blood, hate Granger because she was a Muggle. But his hate for her was on and off. He couldn't decide whether to hate her because she was a 'blood traitor', as his father had said before he died at Voldemort's hands for failing to follow orders, or to love her simply because…well, because he did.

When they became 'business partners', eventually friends, they changed each other. Draco suddenly saw that it was ridiculous to hate someone because of something they couldn't help. She suddenly started thinking of Granger as a Mudblood instead of a Muggle. She obviously didn't mind half-bloods though, because, well, she was with Potter, wasn't she?

Draco loved the old her.

But she had changed.

It was his mission to change her back to the old Ginny, the nice Ginny, the Ginny he loved. It was his fault.

It was his fault.

Too bad he was with Parkinson.

Draco hated Parkinson. But if he didn't want to be skinned alive by his mother, he would have to keep up this façade for the moment. Until he turned seventeen, which would legally make him an adult and so have access to the Malfoys' Gringotts vault. Then he would tell her.

Draco stopped his happy daydreaming and snapped out of his thoughts. He quickly hurried back to the Slytherin dungeons before he got caught, one thought echoing in his mind.

It's my fault.

(A/N: Yayness. I can't write romance scenes. If anyone wants to fill those bits in for me, I'd be quite glad. It would fit in better with the rest of the story.

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