Catch the Rain

I wanna heal, I wanna feel,

What I thought was never real.
I wanna let go of the pain I've felt so long,
(Erase all the pain till it's gone).
I wanna heal, I wanna feel,

Like I'm close to something real.
I wanna find something I've wanted all along,
Somewhere I belong.

Light raindrops scattered around him, hitting the ground with silent ease. It trailed through his blonde hair, over his forehead and down to the tip of his nose before dripping onto his chest and soaking into his shirt. The rain had always amazed him for some reason. Whether it was because it caused most people grief, or just it's plain beauty. Even while he was small, the rain astounded him. The way nature had worked its own magic was unlike the one he had grown accustomed to; the rain could be such a burden to some, while showing unexplainable beauty to others. It was almost like life -- almost.

Draco Malfoy had grown up accustomed to receiving everything he had ever wanted, handed to him on a silver platter with the Malfoy crest emblemized across it. That's all he had to him, though. Malfoy. One simple name had changed his life forever. Knowing he was one of them. One of the better ones. Malfoy, pureblooded, Slytherin, top of the class, respected by the entire House. What else did he need? The world was set before him, and all he had to do was grace it with his presence, take what he wanted and move on again...

Turning away from the front gates that he longed to leave behind, he made his way up the front steps of Malfoy Manor. Pushing the front door open lazily, one of their house elves, Vinky, greeting him with a towel, a freshly cleaned robe, and his wand. "Vinky thought Master would like to change since Master was out in the rain for so long." She then took two envelopes from the large pocket of the t-shirt she wore, handing them to him, "And these came for Master today from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Draco simply snatched the items from the house elves arms, tucking them under one of his own as he stalked up the stairs. 'Why on Earth Father keeps them here, I will never know.' Idle thoughts such as those traced through his mind as he made his way up the black marble staircase, fingers instinctively tracing the gold inlay along the railing. Reaching the top of the stairs, he turned abruptly on his heel, sitting down on the top step and pressing his forehead against the spools between the stairs and the railing, watching any activity that may have happened below him.

An hour, at the least, had passed of no excitement within the Manor, only house elves and the like scurrying around, cleaning and preparing. Finally standing, Draco stretched lazily, legs and back cramped from sitting for so long. Bending to pick up his belongings, Draco glided down the hallway in the direction of his bedroom. Stopping before a blank wall, he muttered a soft phrase, the outlines of doors starting, before forming into a set of French doors, black with initial-branded stained glass. They swung open, revealing his room; a whirl of black satin, silver trim and green accents.

Making his way though the doors, they closed behind him, disappearing from the outside wall again to hide his chambers once again. Peeling off jet-black robes, he kicked them in the general direction of his doors. Strolling towards his wardrobe, he stood before it, scowling from the lack of choice within it, hoping that something at least remotely attractive would jump to his attention.

When nothing did, he reached for a hunter green robe and pulled it on over his head before pulling two trunks out from the bottom of the closet, resting them near his bed. Picking up his Hogwarts letters, one was his general school supply list for sixth year; the other was something he had not expected. Tearing open the envelope, sealed with the Hogwarts crest, he pulled out a large piece of parchment. Unfolding it, eyes scanned it idly; his O.W.L. results had come. Every grade was either and 'O' or 'E', except for Care of Magical Creatures in which he got an 'A', which was quite disappointing.

Tossing his O.W.L.'s aside, he stuffed his list into one of the pockets in his robe before proceeding to pack a few sparse things into his trunks that he would need during the year, but was not in need of at the moment. Once his first trunk was half way full, he turned and walked to his doors, promptly exiting his room.

Rushing down the staircase, Draco skidded to a halt in front of the study where his Mother was normally found. Peering in, he stood straight, tall, and with his hands behind his back; his Mother always expected respect and proper manners. At all times. "Mother?" His voice was soft, only an attempt to not startle her.

Glancing up from the book she had been reading, Narcissa raised her head, smile twitching at her lips, though not appearing. She stood from the chair; tall, slender, and beautiful, a deadly angel at the best. She seemed to float towards Draco, though he knew better, gravity was a law not even the Malfoys could break. "Yes, Draco? What is it you want?" Her voice was warm, surrounding him like the summer sun.

Nodding a little, he pulled the letter out from within his robes, unfolding it and showing Narcissa; her face only showing mild interest in what he had to say. Draco glanced to the letter, then at her, "Would you like to accompany me to Diagon Alley for my supplies, or shall I go by myself, Mother?"

Narcissa shook her head before moving back to sit within the leather chair she had previously been in, leaning once again over her book, "No thank you, Dear, I'm afraid you shall have to go on your own this year." She gave a weak smile; the best she could give after everything that had been happening recently.

Draco sighed a little, though Narcissa gave no thought. Predictable. He turned away and ventured once again into the entrance hall. He gave a glance outside to see the rain still pelting against the windows, falling down along it like tears; the world was crying. Fighting the urge to once again go outside into the storm, he hurried up the stairs to his bedroom.

Tossing his robes off, he reached for a pair of plain black jeans, along with a black t-shirt, the best he could do to blend in with Muggle England. Shoving his wallet into his pocket, his wand at his side, he strolled over to his fireplace, a small dish of floo powder beside it. Picking up a handful, he tossed it within the fireplace, stepping into it, fighting the urge to sneeze or cough as he took in a breath, "The Leaky Cauldron!"

He jerked backwards, passing fireplace, upon fireplace, until he went smashing through one, exiting onto the floor of the Inn. Standing quickly, dusting himself off, he gave another look outside, noticing that it was quite nice out in London, unlike back home. Taking his leave through the back, he tapped the bricks along the wall of an empty alleyway; looking like a rundown place for the poor to the untrained eye.

The bricks soon began to part and rearrange, creating a doorway onto a bustling street, filled with people, young and old. Stepping through, the bricks closed behind him as he made his way through the crowd. Glancing at his letter, he noticed most things were books, of course, though not much of anything else. Although he was in need of a new cauldron, along with wanting a new broom for Quiddich. Spotting Flourish and Blotts, Draco pushed his way through the crowd around the front door and inside. Collecting his books, he made his way to the counter, paid for his things, then quickly exited; not exactly wanting to spend a lot of time there.

His next stop had been Quality Quiddich Supplies, searching out for a new broom: hopefully the best. Though he wasn't sure which one to get. Three had come out in less than a year, all in a series of the best-known 'mythological' animals. First off, there was the Phoenixfyre that had come out early January, though had hardly any publicity for what a great broom it was, the best for long distance. The handle was made of the finest maple, with red twigs. The second in the series had been the Dragontail, which had gotten the most publicity that Draco had seen, with it's sleek black body and silver twigs holding a hint of black. It had been rumored to be the best racing broom made yet. The third, which he knew nothing of, was the Unicornhorn, which seemed to be leaned towards the female crowd, the body ivory with spiraled twigs of the same white, resembling a unicorns horn.

Draco picked up the Phoenixfyre, getting a feel for the weight before putting it down, lifting the Dragontail. It was lightweight, but sturdy. The twigs were neatly arranged, and the curve was better for his body type, the handle slipping into his hands perfectly; it was as if he could feel the wind against his face already. Like he was flying.

His eyes snapped open again, fingers wrapping around the broom instinctively, clutching it. Finally deciding upon it, he strolled to the back counter where the witch was counting out her till. Clearing his throat, he placed the broom upon the counter, waiting for her attention.

"Ah, yes how may I - Oh! Master Malfoy, out for a new broom, I see?" Her smile, if you could call it that, was crooked, toothless, and released a smell of rotting eggs.

Draco nodded a little, motioning towards the broom as he dug for his money, "Yes, yes. How much will that be, then? No time for small talk." He always seemed to put up a cold front while in public; there was no need to be polite. The only people he had to ever answer to were his parents, anyone else was beneath him.

"Yes, Sir. That will be a total of 50 Galleons, and 14 Sickles, please." Her wrinkled, bony hand reached towards him, waiting for the gold and silver pieces. Draco counted out fifty gold pieces into her hand, then fourteen silver ones.

Nodding in thanks, he grasped the broom before turning around towards the door, though coming face to face with the youngest Weasley; Virginia. "Ah, the youngest of them all, hm? And where's the Weasel King?" Draco smirked a little.

Ginny scowled, eyes narrowing as she brushed past him, up to the counter to purchase whatever she'd been holding onto. Turning around to see Draco again, she seemed suddenly calmer; "I find it amazing how you can insult people so easily, yet not give a thought to it. Is it to boost your own self-esteem, or is it your estranged sense of humor? Either way, you have no right. The only 'weasel', Draco, is you." Rolling her eyes, Ginny stormed out of the shop, disappearing into the crowed.

He sat; slightly stunned that she had retaliated, before following her out the door and into the bustling alley. Walking across the way into a small, secluded shop, he purchased a set of quills, a large supply of parchment, and enough ink to last him through the first semester. After paying for all of his supplies, Draco traveled to Owl Delivery Service. Dumping his supplies on one of the desks within the brown building, he packed most of it into a box, addressing it to the Manor, and taking it to the front desk. Putting it into the line, he placed enough Sickles upon the top to have it delivered to him the same day, and walked out, broom still in hand.

Venturing back to The Leaky Cauldron, Draco gave a glance upwards; London was clouding over. Storm's headed this way, I suppose. Lost in thought as he made his way through the Inn, he took a pinch of Floo Powder, tossing it into the red flames. Watching them turn an emerald green, he stepped into the fireplace. Clutching his broom, holding his arms to his sides, eyes shut tight, he muttered 'The Ronam' quietly; their own private floo place, though known by few. Curious people who dared to utter the words 'Malfoy Manor' would find themselves in a great deal of trouble.

Moving up in a whirl of green, ash, and smoke, he passed by other fireplaces, some filled with faces of people he has never seen before, which was usual. Others were empty, though some held glances of those he knew, some held visions of things he never wished to witness. A feeling of being lassoed around his waist and pulled through one of the openings overcame him as he appeared back in the manor, standing before the fireplace in the living room. The flames flickered across his eyes, licking at the edge of the grate, the smell of hot iron filling the room and snaking up his nose.

Turning to leave the room, Draco took a step only to fumble backwards, almost having walked into the person he was dreading the presence of. Frown turned at his lips as Draco tried his best to stand straight and proper, shrinking under the scowl of him; his Father. "Good day, Father. Trust all is well at Headquarters?" Draco was most certainly more aware of the inner workings of the highest circle of Death Eaters than most of the other followers of the Dark Lord.

Lucius had been released from Azkaban under claims of innocence, though most in the Wizarding community knew better. Money was always involved where the Malfoys were concerned, and this predicament had been no different. "Of course, Draco, why wouldn't they be?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. Silver eyes flashed for a brief moment, filled with emotion, though which one, Draco did not know.

Taking a cautious step backward, Draco clutched his broom even tighter, lips pressed into a tight line. He tried his best to stay quiet, allow no smart remark to pass through his lips. Gaze never wavered, always watching his father, every movement that was made. Free hand clenched into a fist, still, staying silent.

Lucius smirked, nodding his head towards the door behind him, "Leave. Get out of my sight. I have more important business to contend with than speaking to you." Stepping past Draco, he tossed a pinch of Floo Power into the fire, stepped in and muttered something incoherent before disappearing.

Draco stayed until the fire had turned back to its normal red flame and thick heat. He stood, staring at the flames for a while, memory of a girl with the same shade of hair flashing before his eyes. Turning his head away, Draco scowled before stomping out of the living room towards his own chambers.

Traveling down the empty corridors, he stopped before the study, expecting to see his mother there, though only finding a few house elves tidying the space. Frown tinged at his lips, continuing past and running up the staircase. Entering his bedroom again, he leaned his broom against the wall, strolling over to his bed. Falling backwards onto it, he stared lazily at the top of the canopy over his bed, gaze unmoving. Sighing slightly, stifling a yawn afterwards, he finally realized how tired he was. Crawling completely up onto his bed, he pulled a sheet over him, closing his eyes. It took no time before he fell asleep.

"Master? Master Malfoy? Master Malfoy, it is time to wake. You return to school tomorrow, and Vinky saw that Master hadn't packed." The house elf had awoken him.

Buggar. "T'is not, elf. School is not for another week, now allow me to go back to sleep," Draco muttered; his voice slightly raspy, body stiff when rolling over.

"Master has been sleeping. Master would not wake until now, Vinky tried. Vinky and friends tried many times, but Master Malfoy would not wake. Master must get up, or he will have nothing packed for school year!" The house elf tugged at the sheets tightly wrapped around Draco before pulling them off, marching out of the room with them, quite proud of herself.

Growling lightly, Draco rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling again. He was much too stiff, tired, and lazy to get up and pack. Though with no sheets, he could not sleep. Rolling into his side, grumbling incoherent words, he threw his feet over the side of his bed, standing.

Making his way over to where his trunks were settled, Draco flung both of them open and glanced around his room. A large box sat at the foot of his bed, his own writing scrolled across the top; his school supplies. Barely coherent, he began to pack, robes, clothing, books, cloak, hat, tie, and any other supplies or belongings he knew he would need during the year. Finally closing and locking each of his trunks, he set his broom on top one before sitting down atop the other. Breathing a sigh, he leaned back; upper torso sprawled across his bed.

"Draco, dear, Malfoys do not sit atop trunks, or lay upon beds in that fashion. Do sit up." Narcissa had entered his room, setting his now clean bed sheets beside his head before sitting upon his bed.

Scrambling to stand, Draco nodded quickly, bowing his head a little. "Yes, mother. No disrespect or degrading was intended."

The corners of Narcissa's lips turned into a slight frown, though barely noticeable, "I'm sure, Draco. Now, I wanted to speak to you about school this year. Your father and I have discussed this thoroughly. You're the heir to the Malfoy name, and you need to start learning how things work around here. We think it's best if a private tutor came to the Manor to teach you."

Draco's mouth opened, though abruptly closed again. Head tilted downwards, gaze falling upon his two trunks, along with his broom. No Quiddich. No more being a Prefect. No Slytherin House parties. No Hogwarts? Frown twinged at his lips as he looked away from his mother, deep breaths taken before speaking, "Mother, I can not just give up my place at Hogwarts. I only have two years left, and I am not going to spend it locked inside the Manor. You and Father were both allowed to pursue all seven years at Hogwarts, why can't I?" It was quite strange how his tone changed while speaking to his parents; it was if someone else stepped into his skin to speak for him.

Looking as if she'd been slapped across the face, Narcissa stood, striding over towards his door. Glancing back, though gaze kept to the ground, her voice was cold; empty, "I see. Go. If you wish to go, then go. Do not consider returning here for holidays, Draco. Your Father will not have it. You shall find your own way to King's Cross tomorrow. I cannot assist you while your Father is still here. I -" Exiting quickly, Narcissa disappeared behind the double doors; Malfoys never apologized.

Turning abruptly, Draco fell back onto his bed, sighing a little. This was going to be a long, long day. Although most of which was spent in his room, packing, unpacking, then repacking, Draco finally decided to sit and wait. And think. What else was he to do? He had to find a way to King's Cross tomorrow, and didn't know how he was to get there.

The only intelligible option was the Knight Bus. Malfoys don't take the Knight Bus, though. It's public. Grumbling incoherent sentences to himself, Draco stacked everything up on his trunks before turning back to his bed, which was now made. Wonderful charms these Elves have, though. Falling backwards upon it, he immediately fell back to sleep, restless as it was.

Awaking the next morning to the singing of a house elf that had been tidying his room. Draco lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling with mild interest. Rolling onto his side, he pushed himself away from the bed and stalked into his bathroom, peeling away his clothes and stepping into the shower.

After spending a great deal of time and energy upon his hair, Draco grumbled while stalking about his room, preparing to leave for King's Cross. Dressed in a plain black t-shirt and black jeans, he stumbled sleepily around his room, searching for his other running shoe.

Upon its retrieval, he grabbed his wand, tapping his trunks and activating their levitation charm. Striding towards his doors, he pulled them open and stepped into the hallway, his trunks close behind, taking a final glance back into his room before hurrying down the corridors, then down the staircase. Exiting the Manor, he took a deep, ragged breath before making his way down the walkway.

Standing before the front gates, he clutched his wand and spoke Lumos beneath his breath, the Knight Bus screeching to a halt moments later.

"G'day Sir, trunks beside your seat please, one knut for each piece of luggage and a sickle for each body traveling. Oh, and where will you be off to t'day? You look like you might be on your way back to 'ogwarts, but no assumptions will be made, Sir, none at all." The boy wasn't much older than he, and spoke with a deep Irish accent. Standing with his hand outstretched, he watched Draco with a wary eye.

Handing over two Knuts and a sickle, he grunted something to the boy before mentioning King's Cross under his breath. Stalking back to an empty corner, he sat down, his trunks beside him as the bus jerked forward, starting on its way.

The ride was short, though the seating was uncomfortable and the bus smelled of stale milk. When they arrived at King's Cross, Draco simply muttered something to the driver before exiting directly onto the platform. At least it was direct.

As Draco boarded the train of Platform 9 ¾, he scowled, lugging his trunks up the stairs; a definite change from having someone else do it for him. He had never been one to travel lightly, and boarding the train for sixth year was no time for a new start, only an improvement of the last one, hitting a personal record of three trunks. Some would call him vain, others would say and over packer, he thought of himself as a planner. Always thinking ahead.

Sliding a compartment door open, he closed it behind him and pulled the shutters around the windows looking out into the hall; the last thing he needed was to be disturbed. Collapsing into one of the leather covered seats, he yawned, groaning at the same time; he was definitely in need of some sleep. Tilting his head back to rest against the top of the seat, his eyes fell shut as he began to drift off to sleep, although was quickly interrupted when someone decided to fling the compartment door open.

"Oh not you again." Ginny Weasley was standing in the doorway, foot tapping impatiently. "All the other compartments are full."

One of Draco's eyes snapped open, and then rolled casually, groaning, "Fine, fine. Just... don't make any noise. I'm trying to sleep, Weasley."

Ginny's nose scrunched up a little as she sat across from the blonde, "You look horrible, Malfoy."

"No one asked you, Weasley; and if I look horrible to you, I must wonder what you think of half your siblings when you see them on a daily basis."

Mouth opened a little as Ginny just stared at him, her eyes slowly narrowing, "I was going to ask you what was wrong, Malfoy, but I guess it's true that even when people attempt to be nice to you, you're an absolute prat to them. You can't live your entire life like that, you know." With that, Ginny stood and opened the compartment door, storming off.

Draco snorted with laughter as he lay down on his side, shaking his head a little as he eventually drifted off to sleep. Absolutely pathetic.