Listen to the Rain

The moon sits low in the sky, partially covered by blue-gray clouds, as the rain outside slides down the windows, its pitter patter echoing as it hits the roof. Its fast erratic pattern offsets the steady beating of my heart in my chest.

Ba bum.

Ba bum.

I numbly wonder how it still beats so steadily, when it has been broken into a million pieces.

Ba bum.

Ba bum.

I gaze up at the ceiling, my eyes tracing over the familiar canopy of red and gold, softened in the dim light, and then they close. I give in to stillness, listening to the rain.

I know what they're all doing. I know they're all gathered down below in their comfy chairs by the fire, speaking in muffled tones and hushed voices, shaking their heads solemnly. I know what they're thinking. They are thinking how wrong they were, and how horrid it all is, and if only the truth had been known sooner. And I know what he's thinking; my best friend, the light of my life. He's only yards and a few walls away, facedown in his own bed, listening to the rain as it falls. And he's crying hot, guilty tears into his pillow, his own heartbeat forcing him to accept that it is still beating, while another's is not. I want to go to him, to comfort him in his grief, but my own is like a dead weight, pinning me to my bed.

Memories and still frames force their way into my consciousness, of dark shining eyes and barks of laughter. Pictures of a tall, wiry frame, black, messy hair, and a young smile. I remember the first time I saw him, dirty, desperate, and defiant, daring the world to question his story, and the relief that shown plainly on his face as he embraced his best friend, like a heavy load he had shed after carrying for far too long. I remember the amazement on his face when we first saw him through the window, his eyes wide and his mouth in a perfect "O", and the secret thrill his smile gave me as he waved goodbye. I remember the first night, sitting alone together in the kitchen of the old, dusty house, the sky black with night through the windows. I remember looking into his eyes as that thin, handsome hand slowly reached out and softly cupped my cheek.

I choke as the picture comes back clear and painful, the crystal tears in my eyes threatening to overflow. But even deep breaths can't stop the memory now...

I gaze into his eyes, his hand warm and slightly rough against my cheek, the wooden chair digging into my back as I lean a little closer, trembling slightly at his touch.

"This is wrong," he says, fear and desire shining in his eyes, his mouth set in an uncertain pout. But his hand does not move from its spot, my skin burning beneath it. I do not trust myself to speak, I'm frozen to the spot, my fingers aching to reach up and touch his face, to kiss his lips ... We freeze, locked in a still frame, until with a growl of frustration he tears his hand away and stands up in one motion, his chair skidding angrily away from him. He turns away from me, his arms crossed rigidly in front of his chest. I study him for a moment, his wiry frame stiff with restraint, his shoulders set with black, messy curls falling down over his neck. Dreamlike, I rise silently from my chair and step tentatively toward him, and he whirls around suddenly and looks surprised, unprepared for me being so close. Taking advantage of his shock, I reach up on my tiptoes and slide my arms around his neck, all traces of hesitation gone. His toned arms wrap automatically around my waist, and he pulls me closer, my breasts pressed firmly up against his chest, and with our noses barely touching I whisper softly:

"Nothing that feels this right could ever be wrong."

Something moves behind his eyes as he gazes down at me a moment longer, a piece of black hair framing his chiseled face. Then with a soft moan his mouth crashes down on mine, bruising my lips. The sweet pain mixes with desire as we lock together, and I feel his tongue caress my lower lip. I open up, letting him in and tasting his sweet breath as I explore the delicious corners of his mouth, our bodies mingling in a frenzied passion. His chest is hard against mine as we press together, his hand sliding down to cup my bum, my fingers wrapped in the soft curls his hair. A small moan escapes my lips as he presses me up against the cabinet and we slide slowly to the floor, our lips never leaving each others. I lay on my back, the linoleum cool against my fevered body, as his hand slowly roams up the side of my blouse, and when it cups my breast as I gasp at the sweetness it brings. I feel his soft smile as I kiss his lips, and then his neck, leaving soft trails of hot breath down to his shoulders. My hands reach under his shirt, pushing it up, eager to be rid of it. He reaches down to help, pulling it quickly over his head, revealing a smooth, toned chest and thin, tapered waist. I slide my hands over his skin and pull him down over me, his hands reaching for the buckle of my jeans when.........

BANG!

A dull crash echoes through the house, shaking the walls and floors. Sleepy voices and hurried footsteps float down from above, and he sits up with a start, his gaze fixed on the ceiling above. I lie on the floor and stare up at him, wide eyed, the realization of what we had done slowly beginning to sink in. He wouldn't look at me, his profile silhouetted in the dim lighting, his chest rising and falling. I sit up slowly, placing a hand on his naked chest. He flinches slightly, and turns his face down to meet my gaze.

"Sirius......."

His name hangs in the empty room, the noises from above growing clearer, and he looks at me, a question in his dark eyes. I gaze back up at him, pleading with him, reassuring him with my eyes. He studies my face for a moment, and then stands up slowly, pulling me to my feet. He bends down and reaches for his shirt on the floor, slipping it back over his head, and running a hand through his sooty hair. A slow smile plays on his lips as he looks back at me, and we gaze at each other for a moment, our eyes shining with the perfect secret we now share. I giggle, softly, unexpectedly, and he looks at me in amazement. Then his handsome face breaks into a genuine smile, one I haven't seen for so long, and he chuckles. We laugh together, laugh until tears are rolling down our faces, and even when he kisses me we keep on laughing. It thrills me, the sensation of kissing and laughing at once, our lips bumping and touching sweetly. Then he pulls away as the impending footsteps from above sound from just outside in the hall, and we step apart as the kitchen door creaks open. But from across the kitchen and later that night, as I lie awake in bed, his secret smile keeps me warm.

Tears fall down my face, leaving sticky trails as I try in vain to wipe them away, try in vain to accept I'll never see that smile again. The fleeting warm glow of the memory fades away, and the cold settles in again, a damp chill somewhere in my chest that makes me shiver. I pull the covers up to my chin, my fingers trembling, and close my eyes once more, trying to recapture the sensation of you holding me against close, and the mischief in your dark eyes. I wait for it to float up into my head, to lose myself in memory again, but there is nothing but emptiness.

I wasn't there when it happened. I didn't see you fall. But at that moment, something in side me seized up, something inside me went cold, and I knew. I didn't need their solemn faces when I awoke. I didn't need Harry's eyes, red rimmed and empty, to tell me that the man I loved more then anything in the world was gone.

Your death hit us all hard. It cast a shadow of grief over our heads, your absence seeming to fill the halls and rooms, stifling us as we tried to go about our lives; making it hard to breathe. It hurt to watch everyone suffer, but it grows even harder now, as I watch them slowly forget. They all coped in their own ways. Molly has become more fearful and protective, like a lioness in danger of losing her cubs. Ron has become bleaker; his sarcasm no longer makes the meals more lighthearted when the heavy silence that whispers your name hangs over all of us. Harry and Remus have each other. They don't say much anymore, to anyone, but are almost never seen apart. It saddens me to watch them, like two soldiers home from a war they didn't want to fight, each suffering silently in their loss. They try so hard to fill your place for each other, each knowing deep down that it can't be done. But at least they can help each other through their grief, understand one another, because it's plain that they both have lost a best friend, and a brother. It's just as plain that I am alone. None of them have lost their only love.

I breathe in a shaky breath, willing the tears not to fall again. The feeling of aloneness comes over me in a way that it never has before, so potent I can taste it, so crushing that it causes me to choke. There is no one to talk to, nothing to say, empty thoughts racing around in my head, and the insaneness of it all. I whimper, a small pitiful sound. I am alone.

The door slowly creeks open in my head, teasing me, taunting me as I lay rigid on my pillow, eyes wide shut. Now that you're gone, there is nothing to keep me sane.

"Hermione?"

Wrinkling my brow, squinting into the darkness I sit up slowly. The door is adjacent and he stands in the shadows, his green eyes dull and fearful, his raven hair falling about his face. He looks so young and so defeated, his shoulders slumped in his too-small blue striped night clothes, his voice trembling. A wave of endearment, of protectiveness washes over me, and I reach out my hand to him. He walks slowly towards the edge of the bed, the floorboards creaking, the sky outside wet and grey, his face still hidden in the shadows. The pale light of the moon spills across him for only a moment, just enough to show the glittering tears threatening to spill down his pale cheeks. He gently takes my outstretched hand in his, his palms warm and rough against my skin, and steadying himself, eases up onto the bed to lie face up beside me. We lay in silence for a long moment, his body warm next to mine, ebbing at the cold, our hands clenched together. He takes a slow shuddering breath.

"I miss him."

His words are choked with tears, and he turns his head to face me. I shift onto my side and gaze at him in the dim light. He looks back at me, his lower lip trembling, his eyes deep and sad. A single tear falls down his face, leaving a shiny trail on his cheek, and as I look into his eyes I see loneliness and desperation to match my own. I reach out for him, wrapping my arms around him, and he pulls me close. I lay my head against his chest, burying my face as we cling to one another desperately. His skin smells warm and clean, and his strong arms hold me tightly, wrapping around my petite frame. His body is warm against mine, comforting me and loosening the knot in my chest that has been tied so tightly for so long, and we hold each other as though we will never let go. His tears fall on my face, leaving salty trails and mingling with my own, and we lie there together in the dark, listening to the rain.