Chapter 9: Somewhere it Doesn't Rain

"What color are the drapes?"

"Cissy…"

"What color are they, I said." A long, resentful pause.

"I haven't a clue."

"You've been here fully a quarter of an hour."

"And as the moments slip by, I fear I shall never leave." Narcissa considered for a moment.

"Bella would know what color the drapes are." As she'd expected, Lucius tightened his grip around the arm of the chair. "Bella would also know what I've got in my hand at the moment."

"You haven't got anything in your hand," snapped Lucius. Narcissa raised an eyebrow she knew he couldn't see and laid down the decorative golden apple, rather more noisily than she'd ordinarily have done. Lucius made a resentful sound in his throat, but didn't open his eyes.

"And how exactly would Bella know?"

"Well, she'd know all the objects in the room at a glance. She'd have guessed their weight. She'd remember where I was standing and hear where I've moved, and-"

"Yes, all right." A pause. "The apple," he said, in an entirely different tone. A soft, melancholy smile came to her lips.

"Very good. But you only guessed that because you know me."

"I knew there was an apple, didn't I?" She sighed.

"This is serious."

"Yes, I know." He didn't.

"I wish you wouldn't go." They weren't words she could've managed, if she'd had to look into his eyes. Silence.

"Because of Bella." Because he wasn't Bella.

"Lucius, you don't…There are things…"

"Has it occurred to you," he breathed, "that there are things you don't understand?"

"Things I'll never understand," Narcissa hissed. "I don't seek to." A pause.

"I don't understand." Brittle silence stretched taut and trembled palpably in the air. Narcissa crossed the room once again, and as she whispered in his ear, the very room around them splintered. When she returned to her place by the window, it snapped.

"Tell me more," she snarled, "about what I don't understand." Some silences are full, some are empty. This was both.

"They're blue," he whispered. "The drapes." She drew a jagged, shuddering breath and let it out as if giving up her most precious possession.

"Wrong."

~~Twenty-Four Years Later~~

They didn't drown, but it was a very close thing. Ginny and Theo piled into the carriage behind them, and when they stumbled out onto the sloping lawn below the steps to the oak front doors they were greeted by the mass of people from the carriages in front, pushing and shoving one another to get out of the rain.

"Move!" snapped Ginny, jostling a group of fifth-year Hufflepuffs out of the way and clearing a path up the steps,

"Ginny!" cried Hermione from somewhere behind. "Sorry," she added to the Hufflepuffs, which did little to quell their indignant shouts.

"Faster!"

"For heaven's sake, Theo-"

Draco kept his head down until the doors slammed shut behind them. He was completely drenched and colder than he could remember being in his life, and the warmth from the torches in the Entrance Hall was an enormous shock. Beside him, Ginny shivered and wrung the water from her hair, muttering the most creative series of expletives he'd ever heard in his life.

"I'm moving to Australia," she said flatly.

"You know they've got giant spiders in Australia," Draco told her. He tore off his jacket and squeezed, marveling as the entire contents of the Nile River poured out the bottom.

"I don't care," snapped Ginny. "They haven't got rain."

"They've got rain in Australia," Draco countered. Ginny looked at him as if he'd suggested she walk off a cliff.

"What good is it as a country, then?" she groaned.

"...your priorities!" Hermione was saying furiously, as she and Theo joined them.

"My priority was not being wet, which I'm amazed you don't share-AGH!" Theo leapt back with a strangled yelp as a water-filled balloon descended from the sky and struck him directly in the head. Ginny's jaw dropped in horror. Hermione buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with what Draco suspected was laughter, but she paid dearly for this lapse in attention as a second balloon exploded at her feet, sending a wave over her shoes and soaking her bag. Crookshanks gave an almighty yowl and leapt from the bag, darting sideways with speed that seemed impossible given his size. Draco and Ginny dove after him at the same time, missed spectacularly, and instead crashed headlong into one another and fell hard to the floor, where they had an absurdly difficult time untangling their arms. They'd scarcely got to their feet when a third balloon struck Ginny's left shoulder and sent a shock of frigid water directly into Draco's face. Chaos was enjoying full control of the Entrance Hall by then as more balloons rained down from the ceiling, and hundreds of soaking wet and bad-tempered students fought to get out of the way.

"What the fuck?" cried Draco, looking frantically around for the source. Wordlessly, Theo pointed upward. Peeves the Poltergeist hovered twenty feet above, launching the balloons and, by the look of it, fully having the time of his life.

"This has got to be the worst journey to Hogwarts in school history!" moaned Ginny,

"In 1802, a manticore from the Care of Magical Creatures class went on the rampage and killed four students when it attacked a carriage," Hermione informed her. "It says so in Hogwarts, A History."

"Yes, but did Hogwarts, A History happen to mention whether they were dry?" said Theo pointedly. Hermione rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted as Professor McGonagall appeared at the top of the stairs, hat askew and clearly in a towering temper.

"PEEVES!" She took a few steps down, brandishing a roll of parchment up at the Poltergeist. "Peeves, come down here at once!" In response, Peeves cackled and unleashed another cascade of water balloons. Professor McGonagall dashed down the rest of the steps and skidded on the wet floor.

"Miss Weasley! Mr. Malfoy!" With a jolt, Draco and Ginny leapt apart just in time to avoid a collision, and Professor McGonagall seized Hermione around the neck to stop herself falling.

"Ouch! Sorry, Miss Granger!"

"That's all right, Professor!" gasped Hermione, massaging her throat.

"Peeves, get down here now!" Professor McGonagall went on, once again waving the parchment skyward.

"Not doing nothing!" Peeves sang, and tossed four or five more balloons into the crowd. "Already wet, aren't they?"

"I shall call the Headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "Peeves, I am warning you-"

Peeves gave an almighty cackle and tossed his remaining balloons into the air, then zoomed off up the marble staircase, leaving a ringing silence behind him.

"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply, looking around at the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, go on!"

A great tide of mutinous muttering ran through the crowd, but they shuffled nonetheless into the Hall and threw themselves down at their House tables. Draco was normally captivated by the enchanted ceiling and the warm, glittering light from a thousand candles dancing in midair, but today he noticed none of it.

"Good evening," called Dumbledore from the head table, beaming around at them all.

"Is he serious?" muttered Draco.

"Well, it will be as soon as they finish the Sorting," sighed Theo, edging as close to the fire as possible. "I'm starving."

"You're not starving," Daphne admonished, as she and Pansy slipped in across the table.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," muttered Blaise, jostling Draco and Theo apart and throwing himself down between them.

"Well, he isn't," Daphne insisted. "And some people actually are, so it's rude-"

"Daphne," Theo interrupted, in a soft, dangerous sort of voice. "Have we met?" Daphne looked startled.

"I don't know how to respond to that."

"And would you consider me a violent person?" Theo went on. Blaise snickered.

"No." Daphne paused. "Though at the moment I'm re-evaluating that."

"If you shut up now, there'll be no need," Theo told her. Daphne opened her mouth, looking furious, but at that moment the doors to the Hall banged open again and Professor McGonagall ushered in a parade of new first-years who looked, if possible, even wetter and more bedraggled than everyone else. Blaise studied them intently for a few moments, then turned back to the table.

"How is it they get smaller every single year?"

"Have you considered that perhaps you're the one growing every year?" said Pansy wryly. Blaise shook his head.

"That's not it, look, they're tiny…"

As usual, Draco's attention began to wane the moment Professor McGonagall called the first name; also as usual, the Sorting seemed to take approximately forty years.

"Thank god," sighed Blaise, the moment the last name had been called and the Sorting Hat carried from the Hall. However, up at the Head Table Dumbledore had got to his feet.

"Oh, you've got to be joking," groaned Theo. "I'm going to faint."

"You ate on the train, I watched you," snapped Daphne.

"What's your point?"

"That you're not going to faint, you idiot."

"I've had enough-" Theo broke off as Dumbledore began to speak.

"I have only two words to say to you," he said solemnly. "Tuck in."

"Oh, thank god," Blaise repeated.

"He is a very cruel man," sighed Theo, as the empty dishes filled before their eyes. For several minutes the Hall was mostly silent as they descended gratefully upon the feast. He hadn't been hungry a few minutes ago, but the moment food touched his tongue Draco felt human again. He no longer cared about being drenched; the fire was crackling agreeably behind him, the candles filled the room with an enchanting golden light, and all around him, spirits were lifting in a gradual but wildly contagious way.

"Hang on," said Pansy, after a moment. She was scanning the high table and looking increasingly concerned. "Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Draco followed her gaze and, after a thorough look, realized she was right.

There's a rumor Dumbledore's got Mad-Eye Moody out of retirement to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, Sirius had said. Perhaps, thought Draco, the exploding dustbins had caused more of an uproar than old Dumbledore had bargained for.

"Maybe they couldn't get anyone," he said quietly.

"Maybe we won't have to take it this year," said Blaise, a grin spreading across his face.

"Don't be ridiculous," sniffed Daphne. "Maybe we'll get Lupin back," she added hopefully after a moment.

"Ooh, don't say that!" cried Pansy. "I hope we do now!" Draco and Theo shared a quick, melancholy smile as the food vanished from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean. At the high table, Dumbledore got to his feet again.

"So!" he called, smiling warmly around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must ask once more for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it." Was it Draco's imagination, or did Dumbledore's mouth twitch in what looked suspiciously like amusement?

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year." He paused here, and his eyes flickered, as usual, in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"Now, I have the great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"

At that moment, there was a deafening thunderclap and the doors to the Great Hall exploded open again. Every head in the Great Hall whipped sharply around at the noise, and seeing the source, quite a few people gasped. A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the high table. A dull clunk echoed through the hall on his every other step, and Draco realized with a jolt that his left leg was made of wood. Quite apart from this, his face was the most frightening any of them had ever seen. Every inch seemed to be scarred save for a tiny gash of a mouth, and a large chunk of his nose was missing. The overall effect was as if he had been carved out of brittle wood by a blind person, according to the description of a small and very imaginative child. One of his eyes was dark, small, and beady; the other was nearly double the size, perfectly round, and electric blue. This was moving continuously, unblinking, up and down and in every imaginable direction; nausea gripped Draco with horrible suddenness as the eye turned back into the man's head, leaving only the white visible. He swallowed hard and turned away until he could breathe normally again.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody," said Dumbledore brightly, ignoring the shocked tide of muttering quickly over the Hall.

"You were right," breathed Theo, staring up at the man as if hypnotized. "He isn't dead."

"I reckon that's up for debate," murmured Blaise, likewise transfixed.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore went on, waving for quiet. "We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

This announcement yielded a reaction as widespread as Moody's arrival, but this time the exclamations were of excitement and disbelief rather than horror.

"You're JOKING!" boomed a loud voice from the Gryffindor table.

"I certainly am not joking, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore, with a knowing wink. "Though, now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…" Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Yes, perhaps now is not the time...where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. Well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely." Blaise turned back to the table at once, eyes alight.

"He's not serious," he breathed. "I mean-the real-the Triwizard Tournament?"

"He just said he was serious," said Theo impatiently. Blaise waved this away.

"We should go for it," he hissed. Draco laughed; so did Theo and Daphne, and, after a moment, Pansy.

"I like my head attached to my body, thanks," said Draco pointedly. At the head of the room, Dumbledore was waving for quiet again.

"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of three champions will take place on Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons prize money. Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on over the tide of muttering at the mention of prize money, "the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age-that is to say, seventeen years or older-will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This is a measure we feel is necessary-" here he raised his voice slightly to compete with a few mutinous shouts, mainly from the Gryffindor table- "given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. Now, the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and give your wholehearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!" Dumbledore sat down again, and there was an enormous commotion as the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors toward the Entrance Hall. A few Gryffindors remained behind, glaring helplessly up at Dumbledore and muttering conspiratorially to one another. Draco allowed his friends to draw ahead slightly, ignoring their chatter and scarcely looking where he was going as he traced the familiar path into the dungeons. Sirius's "reliable source," it appeared, was just that. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving in October, as would Durmstrang's headmaster and, according to Sirius, Harry Potter's yearly supply of mortal danger.

But surely, it would be bold to the point of lunacy to make an attempt on his life under Dumbledore's nose, while visiting Hogwarts as a guest at an event that was sure to draw national attention and probably Ministry security? He shook his head slightly. They were arriving in October, for fuck's sake, which might as well be a lifetime away. He'd be damned if he spent the whole month fretting about Potter or Karkaroff, no matter how many fireplaces Sirius popped into. Instead, he followed his friends into the dormitory and relished the feeling of dry clothes against his skin.

"The moment I'm of age, I'm moving somewhere it doesn't rain," Theo sighed, throwing himself onto Draco's bed. Draco half-laughed and shoved him aside enough to sit.

"It rains everywhere," he said flatly.

"There's places it doesn't rain," Blaise countered, reclining against his own pillows. Draco studied his friends' faces in turn for signs of a joke.

"No, there aren't," he repeated, when he found none. "Places it doesn't rain as much, maybe, but if it literally didn't rain, you'd die." Theo looked scandalized.

"That's not true," he insisted.

"What's not true?" asked Pansy's voice, preceding her into the room.

"Draco says you'd die without the rain," said Blaise at once, rolling his eyes slightly. Draco sighed.

"No," he said testily. "I said you'd die if you lived in a place without any rain at all."

"No," said Theo, a mischievous grin tweaking his lips now. "You said there weren't any places with no rain at all." Draco knew Theo was teasing him, but this knowledge didn't stop the hot surge of annoyance from filling him.

"I know that," he snapped. "But you wouldn't listen, so I said if there were places without rain, which there aren't, and you tried to live in one, you'd die." He paused. "Which you can't, because there aren't places without rain." Pansy and Daphne shared a look.

"My god, you're dull," said Pansy flatly, and threw herself down next to Blaise. Daphne laughed and settled at the end of Draco's bed.

"What d'you think Dumbledore's going to do to anyone underage who tries to enter the Triwizard Tournament?" she asked after a moment. Pansy shrugged.

"Expel them?"

"Turn them into bats?" Blaise suggested.

"Why?" asked Theo.

"Because whatever it is, I reckon it's going to be half of Gryffindor," Daphne explained with a smirk. "So I hope it's funny."

"I'll bet anything it's bats," Blaise repeated. Draco laughed.

"It'll probably be nothing," he said flatly.

"Yeah," sighed Daphne. "But a person can dream." Suddenly exhausted, Draco curled up between Theo and Daphne and, after a split-seconds' consideration, laid his head in Daphne's lap. She raised an eyebrow, shrugged slightly, and brushed his hair back from his face. The gesture made him feel like a very small child, and before long his eyes grew heavy. Their voices faded to a pleasant, dull murmur around him, and the edge between consciousness and sleep had blurred when a soft laugh pierced through the fog.

"Draco." He couldn't move. "Draco." A dull thud, followed by a yelp.

"Blaise, stop it, he's asleep."

"I'm not," he muttered.

"Ah-ha!"

"Blaise, stop it!" Laughter, and then, little by little, nothing.

When he opened his eyes it was dark, and for a moment he couldn't have said where he was. An experimental blink brought the dormitory ceiling into focus-that was odd, he realized dimly. Where were his hangings? He glanced to his left and stifled a startled yelp with difficulty. Daphne was curled up next to him, hand held aloft as if….as if she'd been stroking his hair when she drifted off, he realized. Theo lay to his right, Blaise and Pansy on Theo's other side. They'd pushed his and Blaise's beds together, though how they'd done it without waking him was a mystery. He lay back down slowly, an involuntary grin spreading across his face and lovely, deep affection flooding him for the four people around him.

And then, just as suddenly, Sirius's voice.

I'm telling you I think Karkaroff's planning to make good use of his time at Hogwarts this year.

Dumbledore, at the feast.

Only students who are of age-that is to say, seventeen years or older...given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them…

He clapped his hand over his mouth just in time to stifle a scream. Suddenly, in a moment of clarity that can only occur in the dead of the night, he knew exactly who the Hogwarts champion would be. And they certainly wouldn't be over seventeen.

He squeezed his eyes shut irritably. That was ridiculous. Hadn't Dumbledore also said, after all, that he'd be personally overseeing the whole thing to ensure no one hoodwinked the judge? For the love of god, why did it always have to be something?

October, he reminded himself. They're arriving in October.

Yes. October, and damn Sirius for trying to make him worry before then. He turned resolutely away and buried his face once again in his blankets, edging slightly to the right until Theo's warmth slowed his heartbeat and dulled the thoughts in his head. Within minutes he could scarcely remember what he'd been thinking about, and sleep ushered him away for the second time that night.