Rain

Rain

Harry stood with his back to the room, gazing out the open window dazedly. He watched the black carriage leave the school, knowing exactly who was sitting inside. Outside, gray, formidable clouds moved to hide the gilt sun. The Boy-Who-Lived recalled with unease and despair the moments that had just passed.

"Did you mean it?" Harry's fingers fumbled nervously.

"I did not say I did," the silver-blond had returned coolly.

"Then why did you say it?" asked Harry, looking down at his feet. He felt rather than saw the stiff shrug that the young man offered as a reply.

Moments passed and nothing was said.

"I have done what was required of me," the icy voice finally said. "I shall be leaving."

Harry swallowed. "R-required of you? None of this ever mattered to you...at all?"

The young man did not answer. Under his unblinking eyelashes, his silver eyes held Harry's steadily. They betrayed no emotion at all, not love, nor hate.

Harry watched how the delicate tendrils of silky silvery hair framed his face so perfectly; he resembled an angel carved of ice. Harry lowered his eyes, his shoulders sagging visibly. He very slightly nodded once, and so quickly it was almost imperceptible.

"Alright, Malfoy." The surname seemed foreign to his tongue. Harry drew a deep breath that filled his lungs with cold. Malfoy pivoted on his heel and Harry heard the clicks of his boots upon the marble floor.

"Goodbye, Draco," whispered Harry.

The sound of the boots stopped abruptly. Harry raised his chin to see Malfoy paused stiffly in his footsteps. The tall blond reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Harry's eye followed Draco's hand as it set something shiny down on the desk by the door. Harry blinked his eyes once, and a single teardrop fell from his lashes, splattering audibly on the hard floor. Draco left the room quietly, with no last words.

"Harry."

The sound of his name pulled him out of his trance.

"Harry," the voice repeated, louder this time. It was Hermione. "I saw him leave."

The Boy-Who-Lived did not turn around.

"I'm sorry." Hermione's voice was gentle, almost sad.

"I'm sorry, too," Harry said in a raspy whisper.

Hermione's voice grew softer. "I tried to warn you."

"I know."

"I'm really sorry, Harry. For everything. I should have done more, I --"

"Don't blame yourself."

They were both quiet for several moments. The minutes that passed in silence were not awkward -- they were grave. Hermione felt a hole in her heart where she had once been close to Harry, where she had once been able to sit with him through silences like this and comfort him. Hermione ached wherever that emptiness was, she ached to reach out to him, to take him in her arms and tell him everything would be alright.

Something on the table a few feet away from where she stood caught her eyes. She took several quiet strides and reached the desk.

"Harry...he left you his ring."

The young man stiffened visibly, almost wincing, and replied, "Yes, I know."

"Maybe that means it was real, then? His feelings?" Hermione could not keep the hurt out of her voice as she said this. But Harry did not seem to hear it.

He shook his head, still looking out the window. "No. It is a sharp knife. He left it because he knew I could never discard it. It is a reminder of the pain that will never die."

Hermione drew a deep breath. "There is always a rainbow after the rain. Your pain will pass, Harry. With time."

At last, Harry turned to face her. His eyes were bleak and gray, and the vibrant green had gone from them. His shoulders sagged with despair, his posture slumped with defeat. "There can never be a rainbow when there is no sun. He took the sun with him. Now, there is only rain."

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