Then Came the Rain

Then Came the Rain

Human detritus littered the landscape as far as she could see. The sun was a huge ball of fire that hung low in the sky and cast a subdued pink glow on the bloodied earth. The air was still and hot, suggestive of imminent rain and impregnated with the stale scent of decay. Another wave of nausea brought Hermione to her knees. She vomited.

Harry grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her up. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because I need to find him."

"And when you do?"

Hermione wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I don't know." She wrenched her arm from his grasp and continued trudging through the debris.

"I saw it," he said quietly. "There's not even a chance..."

"It doesn't matter!" Bordering on hysteria. "Just help me look. Please!"

"Okay."

A flash of muddied blonde hair. She pounced.

Not him.

Something else caught her eye.

"Oh, god," she whispered. "Neville."

The boy was lying flat on his back, his tousled hair plastered across his face, partially obscuring his eyes. His mouth was open, a silent scream frozen on his face. His right hand was clenched around something. Hermione gently prised his fingers apart and removed a pewter medallion from his palm. It was inscribed.

To Neville on his 17th birthday to keep the Blibbering Humdingers at bay. All my love, Luna.

They had found her, too; buried at the bottom of a mound of bodies, a half-smile on her face.

Hermione wondered what he would look like.

---

He had the air of a savage about him. His hair was dirty and unkempt, his face and hands smudged with earth. His robes were ripped and several ragged pieces had torn away from the rest of the material to hang loosely in the breeze. His wand pointed warningly at them.

Hermione took a tentative step forward.

"We can help you, Draco. Keep you hidden until it's safe to return."

He stared at her with dull, unblinking eyes.

"Harry was there. We know you didn't kill him."

"I think he knew," Draco whispered, almost inaudibly.

"What?"

His left hand grabbed and pulled at his frayed robe. "Dumbledore. I think he knew I couldn't do it."

She visibly softened then. Not much, but enough to make him add, "I wanted to do it, Granger. And given the chance again, I wouldn't hesitate. Don't mistake my cowardice for compassion."

"I don't believe you. You couldn't do it, even to save your own skin. Whatever else you may be, you are not a murderer."

"Not yet," he replied, raising his wand slightly.

"Okay, take your best shot." She placed her wand on the ground.

"Hermione, no!" Harry lunged in front of her.

She pushed him away and stood up.

"Go on, then."

The hand that clutched his wand shook badly, then lowered. He sank to the ground with his head in his hands.

"Okay," he said eventually, his words muffled.

"Okay, what, Malfoy?" Ron said impatiently.

"I'll come with you. But only because I have little choice. Don't think this means I'm on your side," he said. Draco rose to his feet and shoved his wand in his pocket.

"Gracious, isn't he?" Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"Come on," Hermione sighed. "Let's get him home."

---

The heat from the sun pulsed down in waves. The warmth of the afternoon was intensified by the density of moisture in the atmosphere. Hermione wiped the sweat from her forehead with her wrist and turned to her companion.

"Tell me exactly what you saw."

Harry closed his eyes. "They were about fifty metres in front of me. There were four of them. Draco was alone. He didn't stand a chance, Hermione, but he stood and fought anyway. He did you proud."

Her shoulders sagged slightly, but her expression remained blank.

---

Hermione entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Weasley pouring steaming porridge into bowls and Fred and George enthusiastically charming the plates to the table. Ron, Ginny and Harry sat in a small cluster discussing the previous night's Quidditch match between the Chudley Cannons and Puddlemere United. Hermione took a seat and reached for the Daily Prophet. She smiled as her friends' conversation became more and more heated.

The chatter fell away as Draco entered the room. He stood in the doorway hesitantly, then silently made his way towards the table.

"Oh, Draco dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "I hope you enjoyed your bath. Here, have some breakfast." She handed him a plate of fried eggs and sausages, which he looked at suspiciously.

"Draco dear?" Ron mouthed incredulously to Harry, his mouth full of toast. He promptly started choking.

"Anapneo!" Hermione said, pointing her wand at Ron's throat.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, taking a large swig of pumpkin juice and shooting Draco an evil look.

Draco took a seat at the table as far away from Harry and Ron as possible and reached for the pumpkin juice. Ron sniffed the air quizzically, then asked, "Does anyone else smell strawberries?" He sniffed in Draco's direction. "Is that you, Malfoy? Did you get into Ginny's body lotion?"

Draco gave him a death stare.

"Well, I suppose it's better than your usual smell," Ron continued. "You know, ferret droppings."

"Well, you would know Weasel, considering you eat them for breakfast," he gestured to the plate in front of him.

Ron turned bright red. "At least I've still got a mother who can cook me breakfast. Yours is probably dead by now."

There was a brief pause, then Draco stood up violently, his chair falling backwards to the floor. For one moment he looked like he was going to retaliate, but he quickly turned on his heel and stormed out of the room without uttering word.

"Sensitive little thing, isn't he?" George said, glibly.

Mrs. Weasley was furious. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, you go to your room, RIGHT NOW."

"But Mum! You heard what he said!"

"I heard what you said, young man, and you'll be lucky if you ever see outside your bedroom again! Now, go!"

Ron fiercely scraped back his chair and exited the room, muttering.

"Not one WORD out of you!" his mother shouted at his retreating form.

Hermione dropped her spoon in a half-eaten bowl of porridge and quickly excused herself from the room. She found him outside with his back to her, staring at the garden.

"Draco?" she approached him hesitantly.

"Bugger off, Granger," he said over his shoulder.

"Look, I'm sorry about Ron. He's just not used to having you around yet; none of us are, really. You've got to admit, it's a pretty strange situation we're in."

"I said, bugger off."

"Draco," she continued patiently, "I know you don't want to be here. I know you've got a lot on your mind. And I know after all that's happened we're not going to just slide into being friends, or even friendly. But we're trying to help you. I think the least you can do is acknowledge that."

He turned to face her, eyes glistening. "What would you know, Granger?" he spat. "You've lived all your life in a fantasy world, surrounded by people who protect you from the harsh realities of life. You know nothing about how the real world works! Every action a person takes is motivated by the prospect of gain. There's no such thing as true altruism. Even love is self-serving."

"If you don't believe in selfless love, then I feel sorry for you, Draco."

A beat, then a flicker of something crossed his face that she couldn't quite put her finger on. "You're a real know-it-all, aren't you, Granger?" he said, stalking back into the house before she had a chance to figure it out.

---

Dusk was approaching. There was a light wind now, but it did little to lessen the oppressive heat. Hosts of black flies swarmed the area, some searching for food, others for a safe haven to lay their eggs.

"It's getting dark," Harry noted.

She glanced at him, but said nothing. They continued walking in silence.

"Over there!" Harry pointed to a patch of grass a few feet away. She rushed over.

It was his wand.

---

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered, as he stalked through the forest behind the others, his wand clenched tightly in his raised fist.

Harry smirked at him. "You know, you have an abnormally close relationship with your wand, Malfoy; I'm not sure I've ever seen you without it. Do you take it into the bath with you, too? Lather it up with that strawberry lotion you're so fond of?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "In case you hadn't noticed, Potter, we're in the Forbidden Forest. It's called that for a reason, you know; it's not just an ironic play on words."

"We're going in to pick scurvy-grass. The patch is about fifty feet from Hogwarts grounds, and in clear view of Hagrid's hut, so unless you're afraid of being licked to death by Fang, you can put that thing away."

Ron snickered behind his hand.

Draco snapped. "Oh yeah, Weasel; it's all fun and games when you don't have the Dark Lord out for your blood." Ron had the good grace to look embarrassed. Draco continued, "I know you three have plenty of experience with stupidity, but this is new to me, so give it a rest!"

Hermione swivelled around. "Why don't all three of you give it a rest?" She turned to Harry. "It's not a bad idea to be prepared, just in case. Especially in today's climate."

"Yes, Potter," a voice drawled, "it's not a bad idea at all."

Hermione immediately recognised the stocky, blonde Death Eater who stood leering at them, wand outstretched, as part of the group that invaded Hogwarts in June. He had fired a killing curse at Ron, but had fortunately miscalculated and hit one of his fellow Death Eaters.

"Master Malfoy," he nodded his head at Draco. "I know someone who is rather anxious to see you." The man stepped forward and Draco backed away, panicked. "Don't worry," he added unpleasantly, "I'm sure it won't hurt. Much."

Hermione stepped in front of the man, blocking his path. She reached for her wand. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry and Ron doing the same thing.

"Uh uh," the Death Eater waggled his finger. "I wouldn't unless you want me to dispense with him right here."

The trio reluctantly dropped their arms to their sides.

"Good children. Now step aside."

They refused to budge. Hermione threw her shoulders back and stared at their attacker, defiantly. "If you want him, you'll have to go through me."

"Fine." Before anyone had time to react, the Death Eater had grabbed Hermione by the jumper, pulling her next to him and wrapping his burly arm around her so tightly that she could barely breathe.

"No!" Ron rushed forwards.

"Back off." The man pointed his wand warningly at Ron.

"Let her go, Cadmus," Draco said in a low voice. "You came for me, not her."

Cadmus smiled, revealing an assortment of blackened teeth. "I'm sure the Dark Lord would be just as pleased to have one of Harry Potter's friends to play with." He swept his gaze over Hermione. She shuddered. "And a pretty little plaything, she is."

Draco took the opportunity. "Stupefy!"

Hermione felt herself falling backwards into blackness. She woke to find Harry and Ron standing over here looking concerned. Her head throbbed painfully. "What happened?" she asked dazedly, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the bright afternoon sun. "Where's Draco?" She propped up her head with difficulty and looked around in alarm.

"Right where you left me, Granger." Draco stepped over to join them. His face was pink and stained with sweat.

"And Cadmus?" She struggled to her feet.

"Stupefied," Draco replied.

She stared at him. "You stupefied him?"

"Yes."

A pause. "Why?"

Draco's eyes bore into hers. "Isn't it obvious?" he said, eyebrows raised. "He was going to take me to the Dark Lord; if not today, then tomorrow or the next. And I didn't really feel like being tortured this week."

She decided to let it drop. "Well, thanks."

"Yeah, uh, cheers, Malfoy," Harry said grudgingly. Ron opened his mouth as if to echo his friend, but appeared unable to speak.

"Don't mention it," Draco replied, brusquely.

---

She turned the ebony wood over in her hands.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"About what, Harry?" she said, lightly. "It doesn't prove anything."

She examined her immediate surrounds more closely. The area, right at the edge of the Park, was less densely populated with bodies than the others but somehow seemed more stifling. She heard a muffled sound behind her and turned to see an elderly Muggle struggling to move. She rushed to his side.

"It's okay," she murmured soothingly. "Don't try to get up."

The man's eyes were closed and he seemed unaware of her presence. He was trying to lift his head. Blood gushed from wounds in his chest and stomach.

"Genevieve?" he called weakly. "Genny, are you there?"

"Harry!" she called, urgently.

She touched the man on the shoulder. "What's your name?" she whispered, as Harry ran over.

His eyes fluttered open, and he stared at the two young people crouching over him.

"Where am I?" He sounded surprised.

"Hyde Park, sir." Harry exchanged glances with Hermione.

The man closed his eyes. "Oh yes, I remember. Genny and I were having a picnic. Then a bunch of people appeared out of nowhere. They were strange looking... wearing dark hooded robes and masks. At first I thought it was some kind of theatre group. Then I heard screaming... folks were running all over the place. Then another group arrived. They... they..." he started to cough. Blood sprayed on his face. A low rumble of thunder sounded overhead.

"It's okay," Hermione patted his hand. Softly, she asked, "Who's Genevieve?"

"My wife. Married almost fifty years." His mouth relaxed into a smile. His eyes suddenly flew open. "Where is she? Please tell me where she is! Genny! Genevieve!" The man briefly managed to raise his head off the ground before it crashed back down with a dull thump. He lay still then; his hands clenched over his heart.

---

They sat opposite each other in the far corner of the garden. The sun had set several hours ago, and a silver half-moon was suspended high above them; the centrepiece of an otherwise plain charcoal canvas.

His grey eyes narrowed. "What did you say, Granger?"

She raised her voice. "I said you're pathetic." She stood up and walked a few steps away from him, then turned back around. "We've been dancing around this for weeks but you're too much of a coward to admit it. You talk big, but when it comes to carrying through, you back away. That's not living, Draco. In the real world, people take risks; they let their guard down, even though it means leaving the door open for heartache."

He looked at her keenly, but stayed silent.

"You say that you've changed, but the evidence points to the contrary. You're still the same guy who runs away when it becomes too hard."

He got to his feet and strode towards her, stopping when they were inches apart. He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, his face grim as he scrutinised her. "What exactly do you want me to do?" he said finally.

"Take a leap of faith!" she exclaimed. "Prove to me that I did the right thing when I extolled your virtues to the rest of them! Show me that you haven't just been playing games all this --"

He lunged at her. Grabbing her by the shirt, he pulled her towards him. The realisation that this was the closest they had ever been to each other briefly entered her mind, and then his mouth was on hers, kissing her with an almost violent intensity and chasing away all coherent thought. His hands snaked around her waist and drew her closer until her chest pressed almost uncomfortably against his. His lips were warm and remarkably soft, which surprised her. He finally released her and she stumbled backwards, her face expressionless.

"How was that?" he asked wryly.

"I..." No words came.

He stood back and observed her coolly. "You know, Granger, if this is the effect kissing has on you, I really ought to do it more often." Grinning, he reached for her again.

---

"Over there."

Harry pointed to the old woman lying nearby, her legs bent at a peculiar angle. A blood-stained handbag hung from her lifeless wrist. Hermione made her way across, stepping gingerly around the flotsam and jetsam and gagging as the scent of methane permeated her nasal passages. She rummaged through the woman's handbag and pulled out a brown suede purse.

"Genevieve Mary Forster. She was eighty-three years old. Oh..." Hermione paused as she read a small, wrinkled piece of yellowed paper. "Listen to this." The hand holding the note shook as she began to read:

"To my darling Genny,

We've finally arrived

On this, our wedding night

I give you my all

Body, heart and soul

Forever and always,

Johnny"

Harry glanced down at the old man. "Do you think that kind of love survives death?"

"I don't know," she replied faintly, her thoughts already somewhere else.

---

He stood in the doorway to her room. "You rang?"

Wordlessly, she shut the door behind him and took his hand, leading him to the bed.

"Granger...?"

"Shh." Her face felt warm as she started unbuttoning his shirt and she knew she was blushing. She pulled the garment open and began tracing patterns on his chest with trembling fingers, the design becoming progressively more intricate.

"Granger." He looked at her quizzically. "Not that I mind, but what on earth are you doing?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Er, it started out as a brilliant plan to seduce you, then... um, turned into practising Ancient Runes."

He let out an unsteady laugh and shook his head. "If you're thinking about schoolwork, it's obviously time for me to take over" Draco shrugged out of his shirt and cupped her face with his hands, smoothly tilting it upwards. He brushed his lips against hers, softly at first, then kissed her more forcefully until she let out a small moan. He trailed his mouth, sucking and nipping, across her chin and down to her collarbone, his breath hot on her skin. He pulled back momentarily and caressed the side of her face.

"You're amazing," he whispered. "I can't believe how long it took me to realise."

She looked at him, her gaze unfocused. "Draco..." she murmured, reaching for him.

He complied by tugging her top over her head and pushing her down onto the bed until she was lying underneath him, her legs entwined with his. She shivered as he trailed a series of butterfly kisses down her neck and chest and her skin erupted in gooseflesh. Her breathing became increasingly shallow as he blew puffs of air across her stomach and she arched her back against the bed and closed her eyes, savouring the delicate sensation.

"Are you sure?" The sound of his low voice broke through her delirium. She raised her head to gaze at him, then reached down to unbutton her trousers in reply. He helped her shrug them off, then hooked his fingertips under her briefs and slid them down past her knees. She felt strangely at ease as he stood above her, drinking her in. Draco rapidly finished disrobing, then rejoined her on the bed. Their gazes locked as their bodies moved together and there was little pain, only a brand new feeling of closeness and the thought that the situation was completely and utterly right.

"So..." She snuggled into him and laid her head on his chest.

"So," he echoed, wrapping his arms around her. "What's the verdict?"

"Hm." She twisted her head around to look at him. "Definitely 'Exceeds Expectations'."

"What?" He feigned outrage. "Not 'Outstanding'?"

Hermione nodded solemnly. "There's always room for improvement. She leaned over to kiss him again. "Practise makes perfect, after all."

---

The man's eyes were still open, and his pupils dilated and staring vacantly upwards. She crouched down and gently pulled his eyelids closed with her fingers.

Harry watched silently, then said, "It looks like it's going to rain. Do you think we should we cover him or something?"

"What's the point?" she replied, gesturing outwards with her arms. "He's just one of hundreds now." She stood up and walked away.

"Hermione." Harry's voice was strained.

"Cover him if you really want to!" she called without turning around. "I have more important things to do."

"Hermione," he repeated, more urgently now.

She swung around. "Harry, for god's sake! Oh..."

Draco.

---

"It's time," he yelled to her. "They've been sighted in Central London."

"Central London?" she repeated, apprehensively. "Where, exactly?"

"Hyde Park. I know," he said, in response to her startled expression. "In front of all those Muggles. Harry and Ron are waiting downstairs."

"Let's go."

They arrived to find mayhem. The air was illuminated with flashes of red and green light and, all around them, people were dropping to the ground. Others were scrambling over their fallen comrades to get away. It looked like the Death Eaters were out in full-force.

"We'll need to split up," Harry said. "Let's rendezvous outside The Lookout afterwards."

As they turned to go in different directions, she worriedly caught his glance and he flashed her a mischievous grin. "Stay in one piece okay, Granger? I'll see you later"

---

He looked peaceful. His pale face was unblemished and relaxed, his mouth slightly open as if he was simply sleeping. A blowfly buzzed around them relentlessly, until, weary, it finally settled on the tip of his nose. She swatted it away angrily.

As she cradled his body against hers, the sun finally sank below the horizon, plunging the park into shadow. In the dark, she stroked his face, gently tracing the contours of his eyes, nose and mouth. He was still warm, but unresponsive to her touch. A droplet of water trickled down her cheek. Then another.

The rain had finally arrived.