Rain from the Silent Observer

I love the rain. I love the way the rain patters as it hits the window panes and the side of the castle. It's soft and rhythmical and beats with the steady beats that comforts me with its certainty. I love how it falls for hours on end, never slowing; never wavering. I love how it seems to surround me and hold me as I stand in it or run in it or watch it from the safety of the Common Room. But most of all I love what it means to me. On rainy days, there is no Quidditch. This means that the Quidditch team has to stay inside. And the star of the Quidditch team happens to be a certain devilishly handsome young man by the name of James Potter.

So I have a mild crush on James Potter. Well, no, not really. I don't have a crush on him. I like him for his personality which is more than the rest of the female population of this school can claim. He's so...fiery. But he's also the most courteous boy I know. He doesn't play around with girls like the other guys do. As far as I know, he's never even had a girlfriend though he's had many opportunities. And he's sweet. I notice things like that. That's me. The Silent Observer. But I take it all in stride. I know I could never have him...nor would he have me. He doesn't like me, I don't think. We have an odd sort of relationship. I would call it kind hate. We're not really as cruel to each other as we could be, but we're not friends. Or maybe we are. I wouldn't know. But if I so much as told my best friends this, they would die of shock.

I've already gone through this in my mind many times. But I keep coming back to the same conclusions. We weren't really meant for each other. I've only had a crush on him for...four years? No...maybe I do love him. Maybe I don't. Maybe I do. Maybe not. That's why I like the rain. It's so steady and strong. But even it ends. It has to. This hasn't. And it confuses me terribly.

As I sit here with my head pressed against the cold window, watching the rain, in the middle of some hallway or corridor somewhere in the school, I just go through this over and over. Then I let it drop like the ones running just in front of my face. But they too are separated from my eyes by that single pane of glass that feels like it ought to break, but it never does. I'm still waiting for the pane between me and him to break. But it never does either. I slowly feel a drop trickling down my face. At first I think the pane has broken, but no. My pane of emotions has a crack. I can usually hold it back, but there is no one there to see me now so I let it loose. I want him so much my heart aches.

"Something wrong?" The voice is soft and caring and sweet, and even so I jump. I didn't hear him come up to me. It's the one person whose fault it is. I quickly wipe away my tears. I can't let him see me cry.

"I'm fine, Potter." It wasn't supposed to come out like that. The trouble is, whenever I'm around him, I can't help what comes out of my mouth. It doesn't seem to be connected to my brain.

"That was cruel." He steps a bit closer to me and I can feel his warmth in this long cold hallway. His breath is hot across my damp cheeks and forehead.

"I prefer to think of it as spunky." There goes my mouth again. But I couldn't think of any other thing to say anyway.

"Call it what you like. 'The thing which we call a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.'" I suck in my breath sharply. Romeo and Juliet is a Muggle book. But even more, he knows quotes from it. And even worse for my befuddled mind, he said it was sweet. Of course that's what the book says. But it still means more to me than anything else.

"Perhaps I'm just a wolf in sheep's clothing. But we can't stand here quoting for all ages." NO! Why? Why did I say that? I could have asked him if he read Shakespeare. Or if he liked Romeo and Juliet. Or if he reads any other Muggle books. Or even why he's here in the first place. I'm only here because the corridors kept changing on me and I couldn't find my way. How did he find me?

"Perhaps." He stops, uncertain. I'm not sure if it's my fault. Why couldn't I be one of those girls who naturally twirls her hair and flirts and gets the guy every time? It would make everything so much easier. But that's not me.

"Are you?" What was that supposed to mean? I don't get it and it came from my mouth, though not my brain. But he seems to. I think.

"I'm not sure. But then we'd both be wolves. Or maybe you're my Little Red Riding Hood." He stops again, but only for a moment. "We're certainly not enemies. What are we?" What are we? He expects me to know? And I'm his Little Red Riding Hood? For a moment I think it means my red hair. But deep inside, I know that's not it. Maybe he means prey. His toy.

"Two wolves are certainly not a bad thing." He shakes his head.

"No." For some odd reason, that last word was almost a whisper. "There's nothing wrong with a wolf as long as it has friends." I look at him oddly. He has me confused again. He's the only one that can do that to me.

"Do you think I'm a wolf?" He's a bit closer now. Maybe he's my other wolf. But he's just messing with my mind. I want to grab my head and scream but I can't. He's too close. For some reason, I'm scared. Absolutely terrified. I want to run. I'm slowly inching away. No...I'm inching. But not away. He draws closer and I see his brown eyes. They're looking straight at my green ones.

"I don't know what to think." He seems about as confused and scared as I do. But he seems even less inclined to run than I am. What's he doing to my head? I'm so confused. I was wrong. He does play with girls. Me. And it hurts. He's torturing me with his warm face coming closer. He's never paid me this much mind before. Has he? He's never been this deep. His face is closer now but it can't happen. It doesn't happen this way. Not in real life. But this seems so surreal now. I can't tell the real world from this dream one I'm in. I'm going to wake up any moment now. Or maybe I'm going mad and none of this is happening and my forehead is still pressed against the window pane hoping...hoping for that which I'm to get now and so desperately afraid of. He comes so close I can feel him standing there. But, unlike the Muggle movies, his eyes don't close. They're wide and surprised and longing and staring at mine fiercely. I stare back with the same look but by that time we're so close I can hardly see his eyes.

"JAMES! Where are you?" We spring apart as if set on fire. We already were on fire, but not in the same way. Sirius Black rounds the corner, searching for his friend. "Come on, James. We've got to go." He calls this from the end of the corridor, hands on his hips, looking, for all his annoyance, like somebody's irritable mother.

"I have to get back to the rain," I say softly. He cocks his head sideways, looking at me searchingly. Then he smiles and touches me lightly on the nose with his pointer finger.

"That's why I like you. You're...spunky." He turns and walks off and I hate him for that. He's screwing with my head. He hates me. I know he does.

"What was that about?" I hear Sirius ask as they walk away, but I don't hear the response. I gather up my things that are scattered around me. Straightening up, my eyes seem to close on their own and when they reopen, I'm in front of the Portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridors switched again. Quickly dumping my books in my dorm, I make my way down the stairs to curl up on my favorite chair in the Common Room which is, of course, near a window.

I must've read and reread and then read again this one line more times than one human should ever have to. And I still don't know what it says. After the ninetieth or so time reading it, I give up and gaze back out the window. It's still raining. But it has to stop sometime and then James and his friends will go back outside and I'll go back to being one of those silly girls who stands on the side hoping and praying that he even knows I exist.

"You seem to have a strange fascination with the rain." I jump. And you.

"You seem to have a strange fascination with creeping up behind me." Geez. My mouth must have a brain all of its own.

"Witty." What? I'm caught off guard.

"Not really." I feel like this conversation doesn't include me at all. It's between James and my mouth. But he seems to enjoy it. He laughs softly and a strand of hair falls just in front of one eye. Brushing it back patiently, he sits down on the arm of my chair and he too looks out at the rain. The steady, calming rain.

"I see what you mean. It's so steady...calming. It's nice." Why do I even bother talking at all?

"Does this mean you have a rain fetish too?"

"Not quite. I'll leave the contemplation to you. It seems to be what you're doing. But you're not getting anywhere, are you?"

"What are you doing in my head?"

"I can tell by your eyes. They're green."

"I'm aware." I feel like a fool.

"They might as well be crystal." I blush slightly.

"Lily...something's wrong with you."

"What?! There's nothing wrong with-"

"There is. What's troubling you?"

"I don't feel an urge to tell you of all people."

"Why not?"

"I - I can't."

"Well I've got the same problem as you and I'm going to tell you all about it."

"I don't think it's quite the same."

"You'd be surprised, Lily. It's exactly the same." He's still gazing out the window intently. "I'm lonely. As are you."

"I've got friends. And so have you. The closest you can get."

"Not that kind of lonely. You know what I'm talking about. I can see it in your eyes." He's not even looking at me! But I do know what he means. He's toying with me. And I hate it.

"You're only lonely by choice. Every girl in this school would jump at a chance with you."

"But I don't want every girl." I'm starting to shake a little. He's scaring me. I don't know why, but he is. "I want the one who doesn't want me." He said he could read my eyes. So it's not me. He would've known that I'm no exception. He does know.

"Why are you telling me?"

"Because in spite of your pane of glass that you keep up, you seem like the kind of person who would care." It's silent except for the softly pattering rain. I don't know what to say. But, sure enough, my mouth does.

"I think I do."

"I know you do." Stop it with the mind-reading thing. "You care and I care and something's wrong with you and I can't tell what it is. Ever since first year I've been able to read your eyes; that's how I get under your skin. But now it's harder and I want to know why. You're hiding something from me purposely." Well, duh.

"I've hardly ever spoken to you before today in any way that wasn't an insult. I've never purposely told you anything." He sighs and then we're both staring out of the window at the rain flowing down. I don't even know why he's talking to me. I can't remember any time before today that he's spoken to me so seriously. Maybe that's why I'm so scared. He's got too many facets for me to comprehend.

"Wouldn't you just tell me?" I can't stand it anymore!

"STOP IT! JUST - just stop it, right now. Stop messing with mind. Stop toying with me. Stop doing whatever you're doing that's making me shake so badly. You know what it is and I don't so just stop." For the first time, he turns to look at me quizzically.

"I'm not doing anything."

"That's what I mean. Stop that. What's changed about you that all of a sudden you're not the James I knew two hours ago?"

"I'm not sure. I'm just confiding in you because I trust you." I stand up so as to look him better in the eyes. Then he stands up which makes it difficult; he's a bit taller than me.

"So tell me. Who do you want?"

"You know."

"Do I?"

"Of course." And he leaned down and kissed me, shyly, tentatively, on the lips. When he pulled back, I just blinked at him. I was speechless. And, for once, so was my mouth. "You know."

"I do." Those two words seem like so much more than what they were meant to mean at this particular moment. I could see he felt it too from the pale color in his cheeks.

"Well, I guess that's that."

"I guess so."

"Tell me now?" I kiss him the same way. Shyly, tentatively.

"Understand?"

"I do." He wraps his arm around me and outside the rain is still coming down. It has to stop sometime. But not soon. And neither will this.