Author's Note: Ok, I'm sorry this is so short but...these things happen sometimes and the scene had to be cut somewhere. Hope you enjoy and, as always, thanks to those who reviewed and to anyone who wants to review this chapter.



chapter 15: Saturation - a meeting in the rain





It was raining. Lovely. Now what was he supposed to do?

Draco Malfoy had always felt ambivalent about rain and today was no exception. Part of him was annoyed because he had been planning on flying practice today. When it was raining like it was today, however, hard torrents that swept against the windows in the gusting wind, it was far too difficult to see for flying. Then there was, of course, the whole getting wet issue. Draco Malfoy had ambivalent feelings about getting wet, too, especially if he was attempting to enjoy himself.

The other part of him was feeling sulky, though, and insisted that the rain was a perfect match for his mood. There was really no point in denying oneself a good sulk, and really there was no point in being falsely cheerful, either. This part of himself insisted that a long walk in the rain would be the perfect means of reflecting his mood, providing no one saw him doing it, (dignity must be maintained) and in the end this idea won out, if only because the confines of the castle were beginning to feel stifling and hopelessly boring.

The rain beat a never-ending tattoo on Draco's shoulders as he rounded the bend of the lake. Already he was soaked through and beginning to think better of this impulsive excursion, but his thoughts were still dark and he made no move yet to turn back. It felt good to be miserable for a little while. It took his mind off things. Off of Ron Weasley and his infuriating dependency. Off of his father's parting words when he had left for school.

Of a sudden the scene came back to him. He had been standing in the foyer, waiting for the carriage that would start him on his journey back to Hogwart's. The Weasleys had already left an hour previously but he had been still dazed, both by the shock of the turn his life was taking and by the demon-weakness that swept over him in his craving.

His father had come up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, lending Draco a moment of steadiness he otherwise lacked. For a moment, Draco felt that his father did care for him, even if he rarely let it show. His words, therefore, caught Draco by surprise.

"I can't push your hand in the this matter, boy, but dependency is a terrible thing, especially in a Malfoy. I knew it myself, years ago, and cursed myself for letting it go on as long as I did. My advice to you: Kill him at the first chance, and be done with it."

Draco had looked at his father sharply, then, shock warring with his Malfoy pride. But he had known better than to say anything. He had kept his silence until the carriage arrived, and departed without a backwards glance. Still, the words haunted him, and on this day of rain he couldn't seem to get them out of his head. Ron's words the day previous haunted him as well. Why hadn't he? Even now he couldn't name a reason. Part of himself wanted to say that it was to spite his father, but he knew, really, that that reason alone could not have stopped him. The blood was just too sweet.

At this thought Draco felt a shiver run down his spine and he stopped to look out at the rain sweeping over the lake. The scene was grey and forbidding, the chill waters lapping at the shore in angry waves and the clouds overhead swirling in a gloomy vengeance. A part of himself longed to dive into the water and let its icy chill knife into him, but he held himself still. The rain at his back and in his eyes would suffice for now.

"I thought I'd find you out here." Draco started. Apparently a good sulk in peace was too much to ask for.

"What are you doing out here, Weasel?" he said without turning. "I thought your kind preferred to hide away in their burrows during bad weather." This was greeted with a moment of silence and, for that moment, Draco thought that maybe he'd managed to secure his solitude. No such luck.

"Wow, Malfoy, that was a really bad pun." There was a slight hitch to Weasley's voice and Draco had the evil suspicion that he was being laughed at. That pissed him off. He turned to glare at Ron. Sure enough, the boy had an ill contained smirk on his face.

"What are you so happy about?" Draco finally snarled. Today he was refusing to greet good humor with anything less than resentment.

The smile on Weasley's face slipped a bit but still hovered around the edges. "You know, can't say, really." He took a deep breath and looked out, as Draco had, across the wind-swept lake. "It was late and I wasn't sure if you'd get back in time," he said, still turned away, his voice less jovial than before.

"What do you care if I'm late? The wait doesn't cost you anything."

Ron apparently heard the slight emphasis Draco had placed on 'you' for he turned, then, and looked at Draco steadily. "But I've no reason to let it cost you more than it must." Weasley sat down on the bank, his shoes but inches from the water, his cloak surely beginning to soak in the wet reeds. Ronald Weasley was apparently less ambivalent about getting wet.

"What do you care?" Draco said again, taking a seat himself. If one were going to get wet, one might as well go the whole nine yards he supposed.

But apparently Ron was done talking for, instead of replying, he merely rolled up his sleeve and presented his arm to Draco, much as though Draco had just asked him to 'please pass the potatoes.'

Draco hated to admit it but...the blood almost tasted sweeter in the rain. Maybe it was just the slight delay from routine that put an edge to his craving. God, how he hated this. Maybe it was just that he was cold.

As Draco was beginning to expect, Ron flinched slightly as Draco withdrew his mouth from his arm, absently licking away the stray drops that welled up from the wound. Even as he watched, the it faded from sight, the glamour still in place.

"Why do you do that?"

Weasley looked up from staring at the lake water, frowning. "Do what?"

"It must hurt when I bite you, but..." Draco trailed off, not sure why he cared.

Weasley shook his head, still frowning, "It's not that." He fell silent, absently plucking a reed and shredding it in his fingers. "My sister says I should be afraid of you." He had been facing away but now he turned to look at Draco directly, his voice level.

Draco matched the hard stare with one of his own. "Maybe you should be. My father says I should kill you." He nearly flinched at his own words, so strange to say them out loud.

Ron's look never faltered, however. "Maybe you should."