Houses Competition Y2, Ravenclaw, Head of House, Short, Prompt: Rainstorm, WC: 871

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"Daddy! A storm!"

Amelia's voice drifts back to us from the few skips she is ahead of us, pointing up at the deep purple sky. Draco and I pause, glancing up at it in worry. He releases my hand and runs towards our daughter, the idea of danger immediately sparking the fearful parent in him. As the sky rolls over with thunder, he picks up Amelia, her white blond hair flipping around in a halo in his haste.

Our afternoon walk turned into dash back to the house, Draco jogs ahead with Amelia, disregarding the brolly I offer him. I'm left behind, pulling the plastic hood of my walking jacket over my head. He's talking to her, something about saving her from the rain. I'm not sure I can deal with his insanities right now, but here we are. Running away from the thunderstorm like there are Death Eaters on our tails.

"Hermione, should we draw the curtains or something?" he asks me, voice laced with panic as we haul through the front door, not even slightly damp from the non-existent rain. And yet, Draco looks as though the end of the world has come, holding onto an intrigued and smiling Amelia. "Is there enough food to last us? I know we've got cans of tomatoes, but I don't know how many. And Amelia doesn't even like tomatoes - that will be a problem, won't it?"

"Jeez Louise!" I shout, laughing and stripping off my jacket. "Calm down Daddy Bear. It's a rainstorm, Draco."

He ignores me and shuffles into the house further, removing his jacket after he has set Amelia down by the cooker. What on earth is going on with him? I mean, sure the noise isn't exactly pleasant, and neither is the bright flash of lightning that strikes the sky with powerful vengeance. But it's also beautiful. Blossoming, bulging, billowing clouds. Streaks of blue lining the purple and black backdrop as the rain hurtles down.

"Amelia," he calls through to her. "Grab your blanket and your pillows from upstairs and bring them down. As many as you can."

I wait a few seconds for him to tidy away, wipe his blonde hair from his eyes, before pouncing.

"What is going on with you?" I demand, albeit quietly because arguing is the worst thing parents can do. "One minute you're relaxed, and the next second it's as though the world has gone into meltdown and Voldemort is back in -"

"Don't say his name," Draco hisses, his teeth gritted. "I just... It reminds me of him."

"What, his name? Don't be ridiculous."

"The rain, Hermione." I pause, confused at his words. The rain? Why would the rain remind him of the darkest and most powerful wizard of our time? "That night it all went down - before the Death Eaters got to the castle - we were in The Lake District, somewhere on a sloping mountain. The rain was churning above us and it looked like it was going to throw us into a wormhole, or suck us into oblivion. That's how it felt too." Draco falters, glancing behind me at the stairs. Amelia stands there, covered in blankets and balancing pillows in each of her arms. I turn around to face her.

"Sweetheart, why don't you leave those there and bring some more for mummy and daddy?"

She smiles as if this is going to be the best evening in the whole wide and mysterious world. Watching her ankles disappearing around the corner of the staircase again, Draco begins to speak.

"There was thunder too. The Dark Lord did this hokum spell that made it sound ten thousand times worse. He tortured those who looked less than pleased. He threatened those who were prepared to die for him, even though he had no need. In one glance, he could make you feel as though the world was being torn in half." Draco coughs, moving away from the counter to fetch a glass of water. I twitch towards him, wanting to comfort him. "The rain and the thunder and the skies... They trigger that. It makes my left arm itch, if you know what I mean."

"I'm sorry," I utter in a breath.

"Not your fault," he counters, smiling as though the world was intended to be bittersweet.

"I could tell you what my parents used to do when there was a rainstorm?" I suggest. "Blankets, movies, stay up until it's over or throughout the night. We'd have treats and sweets." He nods in response. "Draco, not every memory of a bad thing has to be bad. And I'm not saying you should forget the bad things, but just create new good associations. I know the thought of him isn't going away, maybe ever, but we can at least hope to distract you for an evening. With food, family, and love."

"That does sound... Good," he answers, beginning to have that glimmer back in his eyes.

Slowly, lightly, I press a kiss to the corner of his lips, just as the pattering of little feet announces our daughter's return.

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Thanks for reading!