When It Rains

He sat alone on a bench in the park. As people passed, they stared at him curiously. What was this remarkable boy doing alone? He was so attractive, with curly brown locks, a regal nose, and amber eyes. Tall and broad shouldered, with a tapered waist and slim hips, he should definitely be with a girlfriend. But he was all alone, and his sad eyes spoke of loss and destruction.

A young girl passed by his bench with her boyfriend, staring curiously. This young girl was a romantic at heart, and she read more than one logically could in his pose, his eyes and the set of his strong lips. He looked like a man who had been in love, only to lose what he had loved. Her boyfriend noticed her curious glances, and he threw a jealous glare at the young man.

An older woman passed him by, and thought that he should be running around having fun, with the rest of his carefree generation. Not brooding and sulking, as he was obviously doing.

A little girl passed his bench, and she thought he looked strong. He could protect her when the nargles were under her bed. She would trust him with her life. He looked so sad, though. She wanted to give him a big hug and buy him an ice cream. That's what her daddy did when she felt sad, and it always made her feel better.

The young man was oblivious to their attention, focused as he was on his thoughts. He had survived The Battle, spoken of in capitalization. He had fought bravely with his allies, Harry Potter and the rest. But the final battle had been between Harry and Voldemort alone. When the Boy Who Lived defeated the Dark Lord, everyone rejoiced.

Everyone except this young man. He was too sad to rejoice. He had lost friends and family in The Battle, as had others. Dean Thomas had bravely fought off three Death Eaters at once, saving the life of Kiara Hanaran. But he had succumbed when Lucius Malfoy had cursed him in the back. Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet had fought bravely, back to back, but in the end it hadn't done them any good. They had been overwhelmed by a mob of Death Eaters, and their faces would never smile again. George Weasley had also fallen, a victim of the Killing Curse. Fred Weasley had been devastated, and the sad eyed young man knew why. Without George, there was no more 'the twins.' It would feel like a part of him was ripped away, losing a brother.

That's why the sad eyed young man sat alone on this park bench. June 13^th, the one year anniversary of The Battle, and his older brother's death. Sean Wood had been an amazing person, but not any more. He too had died, stupefied by Draco Malfoy, then cursed through the heart by Vincent Crabbe. The young man had personally killed them both, and wasn't at all repentant.

Oliver Wood had looked up to his brother, who had always been there for him. When he had first fallen off his broomstick, Sean had been there to put him right back on it again. When he was nervous about his O.W.L's, Sean had sent him notes on study tips. When Gryffindor had lost that match against Hufflepuff his seventh year, Sean had encouraged him, saying that they could still win the Quidditch Cup. He could still see his brother's face when Oliver had told him that he had been right.

But, thanks to a couple of Death Eater offspring, Oliver would never see his brother's face again. That's why he sat on this park bench alone.

Oliver looked up from his intense study of the duck pond to see two girls in their twenties walk by him. One of the girls, who was short and slim, with wild brown hair and an easy smile, was Siofra Mahoney. She was a chaser for the Kenmare Kestrels, and a pretty good one at that. She had also been in The Battle.

But the other girl was Kiara Hanaran. He had first met her when she came over from Ireland with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. Tall and curvaceous, she had high cheekbones and a Grecian nose. Her hair was a long and dark, a smooth mass that caught the light and shimmered when she flipped it over her shoulder. She had smooth skin that was tanned a honey brown color, and a scar bisecting her left eyebrow, a remnant of The Battle. But her eyes were her most amazing feature. They were a brown so dark that they were almost black, and it was hard to distinguish her pupils in all that darkness. They looked like liquid chocolate, and were so deep you could drown in them.

He had avoided looking her directly in the eye the last time they had met. At first because Dean Thomas would have kicked his arse had he touched the tall boy's girlfriend, and after The Battle because he didn't want to see his own grief, reflected back at him in the dark depths of her chocolate orbs.

After Dean Thomas went down, she had fought her way over to him, flinging curses and hexes at random. Though she had looked about to cry, she deflected a curse that would have killed him. She stayed back to back with him throughout the rest of the battle, fighting bravely alongside him. They had saved each other's lives more than once that day.

He watched her as she waved goodbye to Siofra, who Oliver knew had Quidditch practice. Then she caught sight of him and came to sit down, a bright smile lighting her features.

"Oliver!" she exclaimed happily. "How have you been?"

"I've been...fine," he replied, without conviction. He could tell she had caught his lack of enthusiasm, as she gave him a worried glance.

"Oliver," she said, much more serious this time. "We've been worried about you. You haven't talked to any of us. You weren't at Harry and Ginny's wedding, or Ron and Hermione's. What's going on?"

"It's nothing," he said.

"Like hell it's nothing!" she said impatiently. "It's Sean, isn't it?"

Oliver flinched as she mentioned his brother's name. No one had said it in over a year, tiptoeing around him, respecting his grief. He hadn't been at the weddings because he didn't want to deal with his problems. Now here was this girl forcing him to face the issue, as if she had a right.

"Oliver," she said again, seeing his frown. "Sean's gone now. You have to move on."

He stared at her incredulously, before he shouted at her angrily.

"Move on?!" he cried. "Kiara, my brother is dead! My only brother, whom I loved more than life! You can't expect me to just move on!"

She stared at him reproachfully. "Yes, I do. You say you loved him more than life, but you don't have to love him instead of life." He stared at her, confused, and she went on.

"Would your brother have wanted you to mope around, wasting a year of your life, just because he wasn't there to share it with you? Or would he want you to live every day as if it were precious? You're living on borrowed time, Oliver. If I hadn't stopped that curse, you'd have died that day. Now live like it means something."

With that, she got up and walked away, without a backward glance.

Oliver sat on the bench for a long time. Alone.

Ever close your eyes,

Ever stop and listen,

Ever feel alive,

And you've nothing missing,

You don't need a reason,

Let the day go on and on.

Six Months Later

He had taken her words to heart. He had lived all the days since the fateful day in the park, and lived them like they meant something. He had gone to do many things he swore that he would do "later on." He bungee jumped, rock climbed, and sky-dived. He had rejoined the Puddlemere United Quidditch team. He had laughed, danced, and he sung in the shower.

Some days he just spent at home, but he was grateful for those, too. He had spent more days in the park, these times just enjoying the quiet. He had caught glimpses of Kiara more than once, but every time he tried to walk over to her, he found that she was already gone. He had seen her when Puddlemere played the Kestrels. She had been in the stands, cheering her friends Siofra Mahoney and Seamus Finnigan on to victory.

Now he was in the park again. He thought about the mystery that was Kiara Hanaran, and longed for her company. So when she sat down beside him, he thought she was a figment of his imagination, conjured by his thoughts. This was dispelled when she spoke to him.

"Hey, Oliver," she said enthusiastically. "It's really corking to see you! How've you been?"

"Great!" he replied with a smile, knowing that it was true.

She smiled at him, and replied with happiness. "I saw your game! You were brilliant. A spanking good keeper, if I do say so myself!"

He grinned under her praise, and they spent a happy half hour talking animatedly about Quidditch, and whatever other subject they wandered onto. When it began to rain lightly, he suggested that they go someplace warm, and preferably inside.

"Are you kidding me, Wood?!" she cried happily. "I love the rain!"

Let the rain fall down,

Everywhere around you,

Give into it now,

Let the day surround you,

You don't need a reason,

Let the day go on and on.

As if on cue, it started to rain harder, the raindrops soaking them both to the skin. Kiara jumped up and stretched her arms out wide, her head uplifted. She looked so beautiful that it took Oliver's breath away. When she grinned wickedly at him and reached out her hand, he took it without a thought.

"Race you around the pond!" she cried, and they took off.

But what kind of race is it when the contestants never let go of each other's hands, and the winner pulls the loser across the finish line?

They stood laughing, gasping for air. Then Kiara took off again, yelling "Come get me!" at the top of her lungs. He chased after her, feeling carefree in a way he hadn't felt for ages. He eventually caught up to her, grabbing her around the waist. They tumbled into the wet grass, both of them soaking wet and out of breath.

He began to tickle her furiously, and she giggled and fought under his onslaught.

"Oliver Wood, let go of me this instant!" she choked, through her laughter.

"You'll just run away from me again," he protested, stopping his tickling.

"Dang straight," she said with a nod. Then, flipping so fast he didn't have time to react, she jumped up off the ground and stood facing him, just out of his reach.

"Catch me," she said, with an evil grin.

"What happens when I get you?" Oliver asked, rising to his knees.

She smiled her sunny smile, the smile that seemed to make the rain stop dead in it's tracks. "Maybe I'll let you keep me."

He needed no further invitation. Jumping off of the ground, he pursued her all around the park. She ran everywhere, hiding behind dustbins, trees, benches, and anything handy to escape him.

Eventually, though, she became winded, and stopped to rest, thinking that the tree she was hiding behind shielded her from his view. He took his opportunity and pounced, grabbing her arms so she couldn't get away.

"Gotcha," he said.

If this wasn't living, he didn't know what was.

Every summer sun,

Every winter evening,

Every spring to come,

Every autumn leaving,

You don't need a reason,

Let the day go on and on.