Rain

Rain

It's raining outside. It has been for hours. It's night now and the water falls in torrents, like it was the night I realized just how much I loved you. Do you remember? Do you remember how the rain used to fall in sheets, drenching the world in only a matter of seconds? Do you remember our first kiss? It was raining that day too and we were out in it. It almost makes me wish it were raining right the day I met you, as it seems so fitting for people like us. I guess it was, in a way. After all, it was raining the day I met the real Harry Potter.

Draco Malfoy sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He placed his quill on the desk next to his journal and closed the book he had been writing his thoughts down on. He sighed again before opening his eyes. His cold grey eyes took in his desk, the closed leather-bound journal, the ink bottle, his eagle-feather quill, and the picture he could never let anyone see...not to mention the letter sitting in front of him. Harry's confident handwriting scrawled all over the page and the folds had nearly worn through with the number of times Draco had read and reread he letter. Tears flooded his eyes though only one managed to escape. The teardrop hit the corner of Draco's journal as the blonde man clenched his eyes shut against the burning and the pain.

How had it gotten so out of hand? How had he managed to let someone in? There were supposed to be well-built defenses for that. No one was meant to push through. No one, especially not the Boy Who Lived.

Memories clouded the mind of the Slytherin Prince as a sob escaped his tight throat. Memories of lust and love and nights where two had become one though not without the painful knowledge that they were still obviously two. There were bitter memories, loving memories, and memories of fear. All were memories that Draco held dear to his heart.

It's true what they say, Draco mused, you never do know what you have until it's gone....

With that thought, Draco Malfoy dissolved into racking sobs.

* * - | - * *

Gods, I hate the rain. Whenever something bad happens to me, it's raining. Always raining. I guess that's not really saying much, as it often rains here, but it's never sunny or snowy, or even foggy when something bad happens in my life. It's always rain. Gives it a bit of a bad reputation if you ask me.

And it would seem that I'm not the only one noticing the rain. Potter's looking outside with an expression rather like the one I'm sure I'm wearing right about now. I wonder if he hates the rain too, or if it's just Binns. History of Magic is such a bore.

So I heave a heavy sigh, fold my arms, and rest my head, because there is nothing better to do right now. Except maybe send a curse Potter's way from under the table.

Nah. That would be too much for even Binns' class. I remember second year when the class paid attention and started asking questions. Binns didn't know what to do. Neither did anyone else, actually, as it was Granger who had started it.

I don't know why I hate him. Potter, I mean. I clearly remember why I had offered my hand in friendship all those years ago, however. Even though he kept his scar hidden, I had seen it. The lightning bolt right above the center of his forehead... I knew exactly who he was. Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer, right? At least, that's what Father always taught me. However, I wanted a friend, not an enemy, which seems to be what I received. He's not even close to me. He's so far away I could never reach him. It's not like I have a really big problem with that either. It's just as well if you ask me. The gods only know what will happen to us if we were ever close.

Once classes were over and done with, I went to the one and only place I knew I could be left alone: the Quidditch locker rooms. There were no practices, at least, none that I knew of, and it was dinner, so everyone would be gathered in the great hall. I opened the door to the Slytherin captain's office and walked in.

I had just lost myself in the plans for the next match when I heard a door slam. Curious, I got up and opened the door of my office and looked out. I couldn't see anyone, but the sound of the showers soon greeted my ears.

Like I said, I hadn't been expecting any practices, and the chart between Potter's office and mine told me what I already knew. I decided to go find out what was going on.

Hot steam hit me as I opened the door to the Gryffindor showers. As I walked into the room, I found that all of the showers had been turned on, but only one stall was occupied. With a wave of my wand, the showers of the unoccupied stalls turned off. I walked over the wet tiled floor to see who was here. When I saw that head of black hair and that tanned skin, I knew. And I left.

I didn't go far. I sat on a bench in the hall outside of the showers and waited. For what, I don't know so don't ask. I could hear the roaring thunder and cracking lighting in the storm still raging outside.

Finally Potter came out of the showers. He looked at me in shock and I simply sat there. "Didn't know anyone was practicing today," I said softly.

"Just me," Potter said. "What are you doing here?"

"Captain's privilege, same as you, I suspect," I answered. "You actually flew in this weather?"

"Well, yeah," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If we can't fly in this we shouldn't be playing Quidditch," he said. "Never know what you'll get the day of the match when it comes to the weather."

I nodded, agreeing with him for probably the first time in our lives.

"So?" he asked. "What are you doing here?" he asked for the second time.

"Planning for our next match," I answered. "Trying to figure out a way passed your defenses."

"Your next match is against Ravenclaw," he said, not believing me.

I nodded. "I know," I answered. "But we can pummel them easily. You and I both know that they're easy."

"Not as easy as Hufflepuff," he said, crossing his arms across his chest and resting against the wall behind him. I nodded, agreeing with him again.

"Why were you out flying?" I asked, knowing that it wasn't just to get a feel for the weather. He'd flown in worse before.

He shook his head. "I needed to get my mind off of a few things," he confessed.

"Just that?" I asked. "Or were you giving the weasel and Granger 'alone' time?"

"Is it that obvious?" he asked, running his hand through his wet hair. I saw a drop of water run down his neck. Swallowing a growing lump in my throat, I looked away.

"Don't eat dinner anymore?" I asked, staring directly at the floor at his feet.

"You know I don't," he answered. I looked up at him, confused by his words, and saw his eyes locked on me. I shivered from something other than the cool air and looked away again.

"S'pose I'd better get back," he said, pushing himself away from the wall. I looked up at met his eyes again for a fleeting second before he looked away and left. I stared after him in shock, the realization that I had just met the man behind the Boy Who Lived not lost to me.

* * - | - * *

Draco,

I've done it. I found a way to defeat Voldemort. I have to leave though, and I don't know when I'll be back. I wish you could come with me. I wish it more than anything else, love, but I have to go alone. Not even Ron or Hermione can come with me.

I want to lie and say that I'll write you often, but I know I won't. I can't risk the owls getting tracked and someone finding my location, and Hedwig is a very noticeable bird.

I will be back, Draco, I swear. Wait for me?

I love you,

Harry

Draco felt tears burn at his eyes again. "LIAR!" he screamed, wanting to destroy the letter but knowing he would hate himself for it later if he did.

Instead, he picked up one of the books on his desk and threw it across the room, standing as he did so. The book hit the wall and split down the spine. Draco did not care.

He dropped to his knees in sobs, remembering, as always....

* * - | - * *

It was a whole two months since I met the real Harry Potter before I was ready for it all to end. I was standing at the top of the astronomy tower, in the rain, of course, and I was looking to get hit by lighting or something.... I just couldn't get Pot--Harry--no, Potter out of my head. I couldn't get Harr--Potter's voice out of my head as I kept replaying our conversation over and over in my head.

Lighting cracked across the sky in front of me and I jumped. No matter how much I wanted death, the actual dying part terrified me.

It wasn't just Potter. No, why give him that much? In fact, Harry was the smallest of all of the deciding factors of my standing up here right now. The biggest two factors had been my father and, to a slightly less degree, Voldemort. My mother came in third, despite the fact that she's practically my best friend and she was followed closely by my House, society, and other aspects of an aristocrat's life. Potter--no, Harry--wait, Potter was at the very bottom of the huge list.

And speaking of the bottom of the list, Harry--Potter--fuck it, I don't care! Harry was flying around in the storm again. I could only just see him in the late afternoon light. Although it was almost too dark to see, I knew those moves and that dive and, most of all, I knew that body. My eyes narrowed as that flyer began to zoom over to me. The closer he got, the surer I was that it was Harry.

He pulled to a stop right in front of me. "Get on," he said.

"Why?" I demanded.

"Look, if you really want to die, you can jump off," he said. "Granted I'll try to catch you before you hit the ground, but that's beside the point. I'm not planning anything, if that's what you're worried about--that's your department. I just want to show you something."

"Why me?"

"Why not?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

"Don't we hate each other?" I asked, not sure what was going on. Besides, it seemed like a good enough reason to me for him to go find someone else to ask to go for a joy ride.

"Do we?" he asked, filling me with doubt for the first time.

"Are you listening to yourself?" I demanded. "Six years, Potter! For six years we've been at each other's throats! You put my father into Azkaban last year, remember? We've made nothing but hell for each other since the beginning! Don't you get it, Harry?" I demanded. "We can't be friends! I'm supposed to be loyal to the people trying to kill you!"

"But you're not, are you, Draco?" he asked. I froze at his use of my first name. "You're not loyal to them, I can see it in your eyes. You're as loyal to them as I am. If you don't want to come, fine. I thought you could get away for a minute or so. Maybe rethink what you're trying to do up here."

"What makes you think you know what I'm doing up here?" I demanded.

"I've been up here too," he confessed. "You coming or not?"

I climbed on.

Harry flew his broom expertly in the elements and I held on to him, breathing in the smell of him.

There was a desire in me that was solely for him and I didn't know what it was. I wanted to cry for the way it made me feel, but I would never do such a thing. Malfoys don't cry.

When he finally landed, I could have kissed the ground for its allowance of separation. In being grateful to not be holding Harry, it took me a minute before I looked around. When I did, I saw that he had taken us to one of the cliffs surrounding the east grounds of the castle--the very ones I had often watched the sun rise over. To the south of us was the lake and I could see the pitch off in the distance to the north. The forest marked the west border and went on for almost as far as the eye could see. From this distance, the castle looked about the same size as my manor.

Stunned with the beauty of it all, I turned to Harry, only to find that he had been watching me.

"Amazing, isn't it?" he asked. "I found this the day we talked. Do you realize that we had our first civilized conversation that day? Or that we haven't fought since?"

I nodded. Such things had not been lost to me. In fact, I had been in wonder at the knowledge. "Actually, I haven't stopped thinking about it," I confessed, though I don't know why.

"So what were you doing up there?" Harry asked. "On top of the tower? Thinking about jumping off?"

"Actually, I was hoping to get struck by lightning," I confessed, sitting next to him on a rock. "Lame, I know, but I didn't really feel like going on. You know what I mean?"

To my surprise, Harry nodded. "If I tell you a secret, will you promise that it stays here?" Harry asked. I nodded. "I promise," I said. He sighed heavily. "I tried to kill myself last August," he confessed. I looked at him in shock. "Bullocks," I said. "You?"

He nodded. "That's part of the reason I'm not spending every waking second with Ron and Hermione anymore," he said. "I said something to them and it's taking them some time to come to terms with it. That, plus the war and my being the 'Chosen One' and all that other shite. I couldn't take it anymore..." he said softly. "Let the world save itself, that's what I thought. Now...I know it can't."

"What did you tell them?" I asked, referring to the weasel and Granger.

Harry sighed heavily. "We should get back," he said, standing. "It's getting late--dinner's probably almost over by now. I suspect we'll both need to visit Pomfrey in the morning."

I reached out and grabbed his hand. "Your tactics won't work on me, Harry," I said. "What did you say to them?"

Harry shook his head. "I can't risk the same reaction twice," he said. "I wouldn't know what to do if I had to face it again."

"Unless you've told them that you're a Death Eater, I doubt you'll be getting the same reaction from me." After all, I think I know what he's going to say.

"I'm gay."

"Oh," I said, my hand still holding on to his. "That's what I thought you were going to say."

"Bullocks," he said, trying to pull his hand out of my grasp. I held on and stood up. I wasn't fooled by his dating life as most people were. Call it recognizing a kindred spirit or something, but I knew. I had always known.

He looked at me in shock and I shifted my hand so that our fingers intertwined. "I knew you were gay," I said softly, "because I am as well."

"Really?" he asked. I nodded. "I told you," I said. "Unless you told them that you were a Death Eater, you weren't likely to get the same reaction out of me as you did them. Since I knew you'd never do that, it had to be this."

"And you're gay too?" he asked, still in a state of disbelief.

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. In a daring move, I reached up with my free hand and brushed some of the soaking wet hair away from his face.

"What about Parkinson?" he asked.

I chuckled. "It's not proper for the only heir of a great fortune to be gay," I answered. "My relationship with Parkinson was strictly an act and she knows it. After all, she's a dyke."

"Oh," he said. His hand tightened around mine before he looked away, letting go of my hand and turning toward the castle.

"Harry?" I asked. When he didn't turn, I walked around him. I distinctly saw a tear fall from his eyes and I knew for a fact that it wasn't rain.

"Fuck," he muttered, turning away from me. I reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Harry?" I asked again.

"We should get back," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"We should get back," he said for the third time, his voice strong yet shaking.

My heart was pounding, being so close to him. It made me realize just why I gave him hell for so long. I nodded. "You'll catch your death out here," I said, forcing myself to calm down. "You should get warm."

"And you?" he asked. I shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. I didn't even feel the cold.

I shook my head. "I'm fine," I said. I saw another tear fall. "Harry, what's wrong?" I asked again, holding his head in my hands. "Don't run from me, Harry. Don't lie to me."

"I can't," he said softly. "I can't lie to you..."

"Then tell me," I pleaded.

His eyes shut tight before he wrapped his arms around me. "I can't do this anymore," he whispered in my ear. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Do what?" I asked, wrapping my arms around him.

"Fight," he answered. "With you, with Dumbledore, with Ron and Hermione, with Voldemort.... I can't save the world and I don't want to."

"Then don't," I answered. "Let someone else do it."

"I can't," he said, shaking his head. "I'm the only one who can stop Voldemort."

"Says who?" I asked. "Dumbledore?"

Harry shook his head. "The prophecy," he answered. "I have to kill Voldemort or he'll kill me and no one else can off either of us.

I always hear bad news when it rains. Always.

I held him tighter before I pulled away only far enough to see his face. My eyes met his for only a second before I kissed him.

* * - | - * *

Draco moved uneasily in his sleep, his mind torturing him with memories. They had dated, they started a life together after they graduated, the fought side-by-side in the war....

The war.

Bad news always reaches Draco when it rains.

* * - | - * *

In the pouring rain, I didn't see the owl coming until it was almost to the window. I rushed to open it and let the soaking wet bird inside and it landed awkwardly on the table, drenching the surface. It shook its feathers, soaking me and the rest of the room as well. I quickly removed its burden and watched as it took off, going back to where it came. I turned my attention to the envelope.

Mr. Draco Malfoy

Number 8, Godric's Hollow

Turning the envelope over, I saw the Ministry seal. Curious, I broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

Dear Mr. Malfoy

At 2:30 on the afternoon of 19 July 1997, Aurors were called to Malfoy Manor to investigate the Dark Mark sighting. Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy (nee Black) was found dead due to the apparent use of the Unforgivable Killing Curse.

Also, at 2:30 on the afternoon of 19 July 1997, Azkaban guards found Mr. Lucius Malfoy hanging from the center of the ceiling of his cell, number 2813. Though no Dark Mark was found in his cell or above the prison, investigators see no reason to rule this as a suicide as there was no possible way Mr. Malfoy could have hanged himself by himself without the use of magic.

We at the Ministry of Magic would like to offer condolences for your loss. As the soul child of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, all of their belongings are now yours to do with as you please. Please note, however, that Aurors will be going through the home on 26 July 1997 to look for any evidence as to your parents' support of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.-

Have a nice day!

Anthony Carter

Auror Department

The letter fell from my hands. While I didn't care much about my father's death--it couldn't have happened soon enough if you asked me--my mother had been the closest to a best friend I could have ever had. To learn that she had been murdered by the very people she had once pledged allegiance to seemed unthinkable. Then again, I reminded myself as I looked out through the window, it is raining.

That was when Harry walked through the back door of the kitchen, looking like hell hung over.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to mask my own shock and horror.

He shook his head. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You have to have gotten the letter by now."

I sighed heavily. "You investigated it, didn't you?" I asked. He nodded before he walked over to me and pulled out the nearest chair for me to sit down in. He knelt in front of me and held my hands in his. "They wanted to know if I could figure anything out," he said softly. "Your parents being who they were and all."

"My mother turned her back on them during the first war, after I was born," I confessed. "She refused to go back after he came back and she kept me away from them for as long as she could--which was until I didn't need her to anymore. She was my best friend, Harry," I whispered. "Why...?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know," he said softly. "They called me out to investigate your father's death too, and all I can tell is that someone else hanged him."

"You're not telling me something," I said softly. I could tell by the way his eyes wouldn't focus on mine, no matter how hard I tried to get him to. "What are you not telling me?"

Harry sighed heavily. "Your mum was protecting a Horcrux," he said softly. "That's why they killed her. A half-written letter to you was on her desk." Harry pulled the letter out of the pocket of his robes and handed it to me. "I didn't let anyone else see that," he said. "It had your name at the head and I wanted to make sure you got it."

I nodded my thanks as I took the letter from him. He turned his attention to the floor and picked up the Ministry's letter. He scanned the letter before he put it down with a scowl on his face. "Have a nice day," he muttered. "Officially they're calling Lucius' death a suicide, even though they've told you that its not. They're going to release the information in the Prophet and wait for Voldemort's next move. It's all they ever do," he muttered, resting his head on my knees. "Wait.... I'm sick of waiting."

"Then go do something about it," I said, my voice rough. With my mother's letter in my hands, I got up and left. He didn't have emotional ties to my parents and could therefore be completely factual about their deaths. I, on the other hand, could not be.

* * - | - * *

Draco sighed as he set the last letter into the fireplace. The thunder crashed outside and he sighed, wondering if more bad news would reach him.

He was trying to let go of the past--of Harry. The man was gone and no matter how much Draco tried to fool himself, the man wasn't coming back.

He looked at the picture at his side, fighting with himself to throw it into the flames. Under the picture he found his favorite of Harry's letters.

Tears threatening yet again, Draco picked them both up and returned them to his desk, knowing he'd hate himself dearly for destroying the two mementos.

* * - | - * *

Two years. Two years since we began dating in our seventh year. Two years since we changed the way the public looks at a Malfoy. Two years that were the best of my life, despite some of the horrors they've contained.

Two years, and everything's still perfect.

Such as tonight. There's wine and roses and a meal fit for a king. The war is the furthest from our minds and there's only us. Harry and I. Me and Harry. Tonight, we are all that exist.

And he did a damn good job of making me believe that.

Then I wake up the next morning to find myself in an empty bed with the sounds of an empty house and the pouring rain.

When I went downstairs, I found his goodbye.

I love you, Draco. Wait for me?

Love Harry

* * - | - * *

"How could you, Harry?" Draco found himself asking the air. "Why leave me and go on that stupid suicide mission? Why ask me to wait for you?"

Draco buried his face in his arms on his desk. He sighed heavily before he looked out through the window, only now noticing that the rain had let up for the first time all week.

"Because I knew I'd be back," sounded a voice from the doorway. Shocked nearly to the point of a heart attack, Draco stood and turned, his chair falling to the floor.

"Hi," Harry said with a smirk.

"Harry," Draco breathed before he ran to the man of his dreams, lips meeting in a kiss that hadn't been shared in more than six months.

"Did you do it?" Draco asked once the kiss had ended. "Did you kill him?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. "Everything's going to be just fine now."

Airiel

19.Apr.2006