A/N Thank you to all the followers, readers and most of all reviewers. Thanks to:- Gryffindor Rat, iggle731, hPdC, Kigen Dawn, NYSnowflake and DarkAthene.
When I think of rain, and I am sad this song always pops in my head:
Here comes the rain again. Falling on my head like a memory. Falling on my head like a new emotion.
Here comes the rain again. Raining in my head like a tragedy. Tearing me apart like a new emotion.
Lyrics from an Eurythmics song, called 'Here comes the rain again'.
Anyway enjoy the next chapter, I will aim to update my other fics too. However I have nothing already written, I tend to write each chapter as I go. Yes I know that is disorganised, but I have 15 month old son who is very time-consuming.
Chapter Two
That evening at dinner Dean told Malfoy he expected a new football by the weekend. Draco didn't appreciate the demanding tone.
"Why didn't you just cast a reparo?" He drawled in a bored tone.
Dean grumbled, "Some idiot chucked it in the lake and the giant squid took it."
Draco laughed, "Well go ask that idiot to replace it." He sneered and continued on his way to the Slytherin table.
"Whatever. Why do you have to be such a git." Dean called to his retreating back.
Draco ignored him, he didn't know why he was such a wanker – just seemed to be his default setting.
He did hear Potter say to Dean as he walked away, "I did hit him in the face with the ball, and broke his nose. I'd be a git if it we're me." Draco smiled, Potter was trying to defend his gitiness.
Stepping out on the grounds after dinner, Draco could feel that the air was warm and moist. He could sense an impending storm, and hoped it would begin soon.
He never liked the calm before the storm, it made him feel on edge, just waiting for the inevitable storm to hit. He much preferred the storm, yes they could be nasty and difficult, but it was better than just waiting.
Draco had always liked the rain, not the spitting rain. But when it actually downpours. He always associated rain with his emotions, whether it was cleansing him, making him feel refreshed – soothing him, or it would bring on depression, a start of a downward spiral.
Just then he felt the first few raindrops hit his face, shoulders and then outstretched arms. He knew that this time the rain would cause his mood to darken, it was reflecting how he felt on the inside. He was wavering in and out of melancholy, and the rain was like a dark beauty. It was a symbol of how he felt, capturing his sentiments and emotions.
Potter had made him feel dejected this evening. Why did he have to be so damn nice? It made it difficult to hate him, and only fueld Draco's unrequited love for him.
Draco knew that Potter was not aware of the deep and strong romantic affections he had for him, but he just knew if Potter was aware it would be one sided. He wouldn't reciprocate and the rejection spoken out loud would be too much for him to bear.
Even though the rain was making him feel gloomy, he liked the feel of the rain against his face, and the rain always seems to bring out all the best, fresh, and natural smells. Draco rolled up his sleeves, for the first time that day. He had been desperate to roll them up all day, now he was alone he took the opportunity to fulfil his wish.
He smiled as he felt heavy rain fall on his newly exposed arms, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Stretching out his arms and soaking up the glorious rain.
He was drenched and soaked through. His shirt and trousers were clinging to his damp skin, this made him smile, he really did love the feeling of being in the rain.
Harry was outside taking a walk, having a rare moment to himself. He did this quite often, asking for more alone time. Not wanting to be smothered by his friends, he enjoyed having just an hour or so to himself – to his thoughts.
So he took a walk around the grounds. Looking skywards, he noticed that clouds began to gather in the sky. Up to now, the sky had been postcard-perfect, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade was beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud were forming, blotting out the old-gold colour of the sun.
Harry felt the first splatter of rain and quickly ran to the nearest tree, taking shelter under an old oak, hoping that he could see out the shower. It was too havey to cast a charm, and Harry liked the sounds, smells of the rain, he enjoyed watching it. Droplets of moisture began to drip from the leaves. The rainfall became more intense. A wall of rain moved over the oak and the drops were drumming against the canopy. So much rain was falling that the sound blurred into one long whirring noise.
Harry moved so he was better sheltered under the canopy, from his new position he saw a lone figure stood in the middle of the grounds. They had their arms out stretched, making their silhouette look like a cross, he had his head tilted back. Harry knew it was Malfoy, there was no mistaking that hair, the long lean body and stunning features.
Harry was surprised to see that he had his sleeves rolled up, Harry had noticed that since his return Malfoy had not shown his bare arms once. Harry could hazard a guess that Malfoy covered his arms intentionally, hiding the faded dark mark.
Harry smiled as Malfoy turned a few times. Harry had an urge to go join him, to let go, lose his inhabitation and savour the rain and the sense of freedom it offered. But he knew as soon as Malfoy saw him, he would return to his usual standoffish self, and would go inside. Harry wasn't ready to leave, he wanted to watch Malfoy as he soaked up the rain.
Harry never minded being caught in rain, it was just nature, you cannot control it. So there was no point moaning about it. Rain was rain, and it was a fact of life that from time to time, you were likely to get caught in it. How he saw it your reactions are your own, you can curse the skies or you can look up, get water in your eyes and laugh about life in that very moment.
Malfoy was clearly embracing the rain, and he looked stunning soaked through, smiling and relaxed.
Draco was smiling, he had let the rain wash away his worry. To him the rain was bitter sweet – Some times when alone and the rain is pouring down he would step into its embrace and let it cleanse him of thought.
His mood had started off sombre, but a few moments in the pouring rain and he felt relaxed. He had let the droplets fall on his skin, almost like a caress, each drop on his skin eased his pain. He let the large rain drops soak him, let it run through his hair. The rain running down his face and masking the tears in his eyes.
Draco was cold and he knew he should go inside, but he didn't want to miss one moment of this rainstorm. But he knew standing in it for longer than he already had, he would likely get a cold. He turned and saw an oak tree. He strode over, aiming to take cover under it, and settle for just watching the rain. He had his moment in the rain and it did it's job, it cleansed him and relaxed him.
Draco stopped just shy of the trees protective branches, there leaning against the tree was Harry Potter. Shit! Had he seen me acting the fool in the rain.
"Malfoy."
"Potter."
"Want to take cover before you catch a cold?" He suggested.
"Yes, that's why I came over here. I didn't know you were out here." He calmly said, hiding his embarrassment.
Harry shrugged, "I was concealed by the tree." He shifted giving Draco room.
Draco closed the gap between him and the tree, but remained facing Potter. Draco wanted to pull his sleeves down but he didn't want to draw attention to his dark mark, or the fact that he was very self conscious of it. He left his arms exposed and noticed that Potter hadn't looked at it once.
He had mixed feelings about that. He wanted Potter to make a comment, to antagonise him, anything was better than the way Potter was looking at him. Draco cast a few drying charms and looked out towards the castle. He jumped when he heard Potter say.
"I always like walking in the rain, so no one can see me crying." Harry had no idea why he was being so open with Draco. It probably had something to do with what he had just witnessed. Harry knew that of all people to understood pain and having a troubled mind, Draco would.
Draco turned back to Potter. Puzzled as to why Potter was admitting something so embarrassing. Yes he had just thought the same thing, standing in the rain and letting the drops conceal his tear filled eyes. But surly Potter wouldn't be able to understand, but he was admitting to it.
Draco didn't want Potter being nice to him, he didn't want to have something else in common with him. He could feel the anger rearing up inside him. Potter always ruined everything. He had just relaxed and shook of his sombre mood by standing in the rain, and a few spoken words with Potter and his mood was back in full swing.
Why does he make it so hard for me to hate him? If he is nice I just love him a little more – it hurts too much.
So Draco snapped, "Crying. What the fuck does St Potter have to cry about. Mr Perfect, with your perfect fucking life." Draco seethed.
He watched as Harry pushed away from the tree trunk, his hands forming fists at his sides, and his eyes blazing with fury.
He laughed, a humourless laugh that sent a feeling of apprehension over Draco.
Potter glared at him, "What do I have to cry about! You.." he waved a hand in Draco's direction, "... are asking me what the fuck I have to cry about." He said in a low and deadly voice.
Draco remained stoic, face a mask, inside he was wincing and knew he had gone too far.
"How dare you." his voice cold and full of anger.
No way was Draco going to apologise to Potter, besides no matter what he said now, it wouldn't change the fact that he had said it, and that Potter was pissed off.
"Well?" Potter snapped at him.
"Well what Potter?" He drawled.
"You are a piece of work Malfoy. Just when I thought you were human, you go and prove that you are a cold hearted bastard just like your da..."
Harry didn't get to finish that word. Draco had flew at him and pinned him against the tree by the throat.
"Don't compare me to my father." He growled in Harry's face.
To Draco's annoyance Potter laughed.
"Then don't try to pretend that you know one single fucking thing about me." He spat furious, his hands shoved at Draco's shoulders and Draco let his throat go.
Draco just stared at him. Potter stared back.
When Potter spoke next his voice was no longer livid, instead it was low and as equally effective.
"I have lots to cry about Malfoy. You had no right to tell me otherwise." He sighed and stormed off through the downpour, back towards the castle.
Draco wanted to call out to him, to apologise. But it wouldn't do him any good, so he watched until Harry became a tiny speck. Feeling melancholy once more, Draco stepped out into the rain and slowly walked back to the castle.
Draco knew Harry had a lot to cry about, but he would forget. Looking at him laugh with his friends, watching the students and professors show him respect, and seeing many people – of both sexes, admire him, it was easy to forget just how hard Potter had it.
Draco pulled his sleeve down before he reached the castle and hurried to the eighth year dormitories, hoping that Potter wasn't in the common room.
- TBC -
A/N: Sorry it is short.