Tears of Fire

Hermione and Harry were just coming out of the Three Broomsticks after a butterbeer stop when Hermione felt the first few drops of rain. A drop fell on her hand, then on her ear. She glanced over at Harry. His black hair was falling softly into his bright green eyes that shone through round glasses. She smiled as she remembered how those glasses had once been taped together. A drop of water landed on his cheek and slid down it like a tear. It ran along the smooth line of his jaw and Hermione raised her hand to brush it away. She realized just in time what she was doing, and quickly disguised the gesture by securing one of her curls behind her ear.

"Oh bugger," said Harry, as a drop landed on his glasses and obscured his vision. "It's raining."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when the rain, as if it had been waiting for this signal, really began to pour.

"And I think you've just bloody encouraged it," said Hermione, laughing, "Lets make a run for it."

Harry grabbed her hand and they both sprinted through the rain, splashing towards the nearest building, Honeydukes. They pelted into the sweet shop, laughing and soaking wet, causing many customers to stare.

"Vinvigio," said Hermione, when she had recovered her breath. Harry was instantly dry. She hesitated momentarily, then pointed her wand at herself and repeated the spell. She was instantly dry, but her hair was also horribly poofy. It was about a foot from her head in every direction.

Harry bit his lip, Hermione could see the corners of his mouth fighting desperately to stay down. She crossed her arms and glared.

"What's so funny Harry?" she asked innocently.

Harry had a slightly pained look on his face. He seemed to fighting some great battle with himself. Hermione sighed.

"Go ahead, get it out."

"Ahh! The enormous brown bush monster! I knew it would come for me in the end, someone help her! It's got her head! I can't see the street any more Hermione, there seems to be something in the way, oh wait it's your hair, there must be other whole worlds in there!" Harry said in a rush. Then he sighed, relieved.

"Feel better?" asked Hermione.

Harry nodded, "It wasn't my best work, but I needed to get that out."

Hermione smiled in spite of herself. "Drying spells always do that to me." She checked Harry's watch, not having one of her own. "We've got to be heading back soon."

Harry nodded. "Just our luck we went into about the only shop in Hogsmeade that doesn't sell umbrellas." He paused. "Well, unless you count those," he said, pointing at the sugar spun umbrellas that were amusing a group of first years- they rained down candy bubbles for you to catch in your mouth. "But somehow, I'm not sure they would do us much good."

"We might get a little sticky," agreed Hermione, grinning.

"It doesn't seem like we need one though, really." Said Harry, " I think that hair would protect us from rain, as well as natural disasters and most minor spells--they would never be able to find their way through."

"Ok!" said Hermione, "that's enough!"

"I know, I know!" said Harry, "I'm done now, I couldn't help it, the line was just begging me to cross it."

Hermione glared. "We could summon one from the castle I suppose."

"You have an umbrella at the castle?" asked Harry surprised. "I don't think I've ever owned an umbrella. I've never really needed one at Hogwarts."

"That's because you're always flying in your little Quidditch poncho when the rest of us are sitting in the wet stands.," said Hermione, poking a finger in his chest. Then she held out her wand, "Accio umbrella!"

They waited expectantly for a few moments, then a scarlet and gold umbrella soared towards them and smacked hard against the glass of Honeydukes' front window. The manager glared at them and Hermione looked slightly embarrassed.

"I guess I really should have done that outside," she said sheepishly, as Harry tried to hold back laughter. They left the store and Harry collected the umbrella. There was a large puddle right below the front steps of Honeydukes, and Hermione looked at it dubiously, hesitant to soak her shoes in the cold water.

"Wait a minute," said Harry, "I've got an idea." He went back into the shop while Hermione waited on the porch. He came back out a minute later with one of Honeydukes' new Levitating Sherbet Balls and gave it to Hermione.

"Now you won't get your feet wet," he said, smiling proudly at his own brilliance.

Hermione laughed, " I guess this redeems you for your hair comments" she said, and hugged him around the middle. She couldn't help it, he looked so cute smiling all smugly, and it was such a thoughtful thing to do. Harry lifted her up off the ground, and swung her in a circle. Hermione let her feet fly out to the sides. She loved it when he did stuff like that, she felt so small and comforted against him, and he made her feel like something special as he wrapped his arms around her and swung her through the air to make her laugh.

Hemione and Harry, had to walk very close together under their small shelter. Walls of warm rain poured down to either side of them. And Hemione's feet waded through the air. Her shoulder was pressed against Harry's chest. She felt very warm and safe there, it seemed as if they were in a place of their own where nothing and no one could touch them. She smiled as waves of contentment washed over her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry glance at her, apparently convinced that she was otherwise occupied, he leaned his head over slightly, and closed his eyes as he inhaled the soft scent of her hair. She turned her face to the opposite direction, biting back a smile; apparently he didn't mind her bushy hair so much after all.

*******

Belanger and Fleur were spending the day together at Hogsmeade. After the awkward start, they had ended up talking for hours on the balcony; having gone to the same school they found that they had far more to talk about than they would have thought. And even if Fleur was no longer trying to seduce Belanger, they still had fun together. They were eating at Madam Puddifoot's; Fleur had absolutely insisted on it. Belanger was hunkered down in his seat, seemingly ready to spring into the fetal position. His eyes were darting around the room with a wary sort of repulsion, as if he was sure one of the pink ruffles was going to attack him at any moment.

"Honestly," said Fleur, "it's not going to kill you! It's cute."

"You sound like Hagrid," grumbled Belanger.

Fleur snorted. "If you're ever going to get a girlfriend you're going to have to learn to live with things like this. Ruffles and cuteness aren't all evil, you know."

"That's just what they like you to think." Said Belanger, "I've seen many a conspiracy headed by things just like that." He nodded in the direction of one of the soft, chubby little teddy bears, which were enchanted to serve tea. They were hardly ankle high, and looked back at him with wide, happy eyes. "Just you wait, it can smell my fear, it's about to throw that tea pot at the nearest old woman or small child, then leap over here and toss me across the room and smother me in ruffles."

Fleur burst out in laughter. "Is that so? I never would have guessed, what on earth would I do without you to warn me of such profound danger?"

Belanger smiled, "I dunno, perhaps actually enjoy a cup of tea in peace."

"Certainly not, this is much more exciting." Said Fleur.

"I don't see why you didn't want to go to The Three Broomsticks, or The Hogs Head, it's stuffy in here! All this warm perfumed air is suffocating me," insisted Belanger.

Fleur rolled her eyes, and looked over at the open window. She concentrated, and soon the soft, loose hairs around her face began to stir, as she summoned a light breeze to wash just over their table.

She turned back to Belanger. "Is that better, Mr.Whinypants?" Then she stopped. Belanger was staring at her, as if she might disappear at any moment. He had gone slightly pale and was grasping the table so tight that his knuckles had gone white.

"You're the third," he whispered.

"The third what?" asked Fleur, alarmed by his odd behavior.

"Of the elements. Air. You're the daughter of air."

Fleur looked relieved and smiled, "Oh, yes, I know."

Belanger looked if he wasn't sure whether to burst out with laughter or tears. "You know?"

"Of course," she said airily. "I'm also part veela, did you know that?" Belanger's dark, beautiful eyes were bulging out of his head in a way she had never seen on such a smooth, attractive man before. She was thoroughly enjoying it.

She gave him a sly, sideways smile. "There're a lot of things you don't know about me." Oh damn it! I'm trying to seduce him again! Fleur realized.

Fortunately, Belanger didn't seem to notice, he was leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed. Waves of relief that were practically visible seemed to be pouring over him. "I've got three," he said. "I've got three."

It was then that Fleur realized who he was, and what he was doing here. She had always known he would come, not him specifically, but the Joiner. She had been waiting for him since her veela grandmother had told her the prophecy. And now he was here.

"It's time, isn't it?"

Belanger opened his eyes, looking directly into hers; she felt she was seeing the farthest she had ever seen into these dark mysterious eyes. He nodded, his lips curved into a small smile, yet Fleur could see a sadness in his eyes. It was hidden well, but despite what his lips were doing, it was there.

*******

Draco stood alone in Hogsmeade. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his silver eyes followed the students and shoppers as they ran through the rain, hurrying from shop to shop, or walking huddled together under umbrellas. He watched the rain as it hit the glass that separated him from it, watched as it slid down the pane in small rivers joining together and splitting apart. The yearning he felt was uncontainable, something inside him seemed to hum with longing, he wanted to be out in the rain, be part of the rain, so badly. But what would happen? He didn't know if he could trust himself anymore, what if his mind joined the rain again? What if he was lost in it? Oddly enough, he realized that this thought really didn't bother him like it should have. Being lost in the rain, falling forever, flowing along the ground seemed exhilarating and yet peaceful at the same time. He shook himself; even more reason to stay clear of it. He closed his eyes, though he could still see the rain falling behind his eyelids. I'm going mad, he thought. It's the only explanation.

"Well well, it has certainly been a long while since I've seen you, my dear nephew?"

Draco jumped and whirled around. Large, moony, unsettling eyes stared back at him, expressionless. It was Olivander. The old man had approached him without making a single noise. This was a talent Draco usually prided himself on, and he found it ironic that this man also shared the same skill. Not all family traits can be erased, he thought. This man's still a Malfoy.

"Are you in need of a new wand? I wouldn't think that you would buy it here." His voice was reedy, yet somehow deep; it seemed, like his eyes, to contain more than what was apparent on the surface.

"No," said Draco, "I still have mine." He did not remove it from his robes for confirmation. "I was getting out of the rain."

"Funny place to choose," said Olivander, his large eyes still flat and unreadable. "I dare say your father wouldn't be at all pleased."

Draco smirked. "No," he agreed. "Not at all." Draco really wasn't sure what had made him come in here of all places. It had seemed a good idea at the time, he knew it wouldn't be crowded, and he supposed part of him was curious. He hadn't seen Olivander since he was very, very small. He remembered nothing except those large eyes; they had made him squirm when he was a baby. Though neither side liked to talk about it, Olivander was his fathers uncle, or had been. His name was no longer Malfoy, and the Malfoys certainly no longer considered him part of the family. According to them, he was a disgrace to the Malfoy name, he was a friend of Dumbledore's and had fought against Voldemort. Though what the final cause of the complete split from the family had been, Draco had never been told. His father had had his wand specially made by a foreign wizard. Draco had never entered this shop or the one in Diagon Alley. Olivander had a shop in both places, though he spent most of his time in Diagon Alley. Draco had half expected him not to be here.

Now he looked back at his great uncle apprehensively. He wasn't sure at all that it had been a good idea to come now. He had almost thought, or hoped, that his great uncle wouldn't recognize him. But he was obviously a Malfoy, through and through.

He was curious about Olivander; it must have taken courage to stand up to a family like the Malfoys. He wondered what this man would think of him. Would he shun him automatically? That seemed most likely as those flat, almost cold, eyes stared at him calculatingly. Draco stared back, meeting his gaze with an equal one of his own.

They stayed that way for what felt like hours. Finally Olivander broke the silence. "How is your mother then?" he asked. His eyes had not changed, and Draco knew that the question was not a real question, not one that Olivander actually cared to know the answer to. He began to say as much, but something stopped him.

"She's fine," Draco answered curtly. He wanted to leave now very much; whatever he had hoped to find out here he certainly wasn't going to. They were far from having free conversation. His uncle seemed as cold towards him as he had expected. He seemed to have weighed him out somehow with those luminous, searching eyes, and found him just as he had expected, another wretched Malfoy, just like all the others. Draco's lip curled slightly and he glanced towards the door; the rain had died down to barely a sprinkle, it was probably safe.

He nodded a farewell. "I suppose I'll see you around then," he said, knowing perfectly well that he wouldn't. Olivander didn't reply. Draco pulled up the collar of his long black coat and stepped out into the misty rain. The old door with its pealing paint was just swinging shut behind him when something made him stop and look back. Olivander was still standing where he had been, and for a split second their eyes met. For the first time, Draco saw an emotion flicker in those large moonlike eyes. They almost twinkled, and Draco saw something in them like approval, then it was gone and Draco was sure he must have imagined it. He turned and began to make his way back to the castle.

*******

Ginny stared down, through the glass of the common room window, at the misty leftovers of the rain that had been so hard earlier. Her eyes lingered on the couple approaching. Two figures were walking close together under an umbrella, laughing and talking as they looked at each other. It was easy enough to tell who they were, one had long brown curls, and the other had a messy mop of shiny black hair. They passed out of her sight but it didn't matter, she had seen them, and would continue to see that image in her mind no matter how much she wished not to. Hot, barely suppressed jealousy that always waited right under the surface of her thoughts uncurled inside her, she could feel it all through her, twisting and knotting itself in her stomach. This was followed by a wave of frustration. Why couldn't she let this go? She was sick of living like this, constant, anger, jealously, resentment, and bitterness. She couldn't stand it any longer! She wanted to get rid of these feelings more than she had ever wanted anything. It wasn't healthy to constantly be going through such constant emotional turmoil.

The portrait hole swung open, and the two people she wanted to be near least in the world-with perhaps the exception of Voldemort and Wormtail- walked in. Hermione was floating about a foot off the ground and they were both laughing as Harry kept trying to pull her down. Her toes would touch the ground momentarily, then they would both bounce up into the air, Harry still clinging to her. Ginny took one look at them, and realized that she couldn't be there right now, she couldn't stand it, she needed desperately to get away. As she passed by them, Harry touched her shoulder, laughing, asking her to help him. Ginny forced a grin, and shook her head, mumbling that she had to be somewhere.

She would have liked to stay and have fun with them, if only she could. She needed to be away, making an impulse decision; she decided to go see Fred and George. They always cheered her up when nothing else did. She left the castle at a hard run, wishing she could leave her bitterness and jealousy behind her, as well as her feelings for Harry.

She continued to run until her lungs were heaving, then her hard pace slowed to a walk, then she stopped all together. She was just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. She leaned against the brick wall then and sunk down to sit on the ground, grief and jealousy breaking over her in waves as she tried not to imagine Hermione and Harry together.

The sun had gone down completely now and she looked up at the dark sky. It was a blur of dark and silver, stars swirled and blurred messily across the sky. She blinked and the vision righted itself, the silver light going back to its small pinpricks. Warm tears rolled down her cheeks. Her nails bit into her soft palms as she clinched her fists, and her head fell down between her knees, her dark red hair spilling over to hide her face entirely. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as every bit of rejection, jealousy, grief and frustration poured out of her. I've loved him since I first saw him! And she doesn't even know that she does yet!

"It's so unfair!" she said aloud punching the dirt beside her. "It's so bloody unfair!"

"What is?" asked a smooth voice above her. Ginny stopped crying, but she didn't raise her head. She knew that voice, knew who she would see if she raised her head. It was the last person she wanted to see her huddled in the dirt, crying shamelessly. Perhaps if she didn't answer he would go away. She stayed with her face hidden behind her hair for several long minutes. She heard nothing but the sounds of villagers far away, people getting their last bits of shopping done or heading towards the Hogshead. She raised her head; her eyes immediately met silver ones. Of course he was still there. She gasped in spite of herself. She had expected to see Draco, but not Draco like this. He was wearing a black coat that came about to his knees, the collar was turned up and his hands were in his pockets. His straight figure was silhouetted against the darkness, every line of pride and arrogance showing in his posture, yet there was somehow an endearing softness as well to the line of his shoulders, and to the tilt of his head. The moonlight seemed to pour over him, lighting the planes of his face, making his silver hair glow radiant against the darkness behind him. She noticed how the moonlight didn't just seem to shine on him, he seemed to soak it up, so that it seemed almost to radiate from him instead. His silver hair and eyes shone like new additions to the velvety sky.

"Draco," she breathed.

He raised one eyebrow, she had never called him that before, he had always been Malfoy to her, and she had always been Weasley to him. But somehow saying Malfoy didn't seem appropriate right then. Malfoy seemed like someone else, and it was far too impersonal for the moment.

"Ginny," he answered back, his eyes never leaving hers. Those beautiful, almost unearthly silver eyes never showed any emotion. She wondered where the real Draco started, somewhere miles beneath those cold eyes, seemingly untouchable. She simply stared at him for several seconds before she realized what she was doing. Draco held out a hand and Ginny took it, feeling the surprising--but somehow fitting--iciness of his touch. He pulled her to her feet.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked.

"What the hell are you doing here? I think is the more pressing question."

Ginny raised her chin, "I don't see how it would be any of your business."

"Fine," said Draco, crossing his arms. "I see I'm going to have to be the bigger person here. I just got done helping with an underground drug deal, and a plan to slaughter all the puppies in the world, and am now off to the brothel to find some entertainment."

Ginny stared at him.

"I'm kidding Weasley." Draco pointed out, smirking.

"Ah, well you are a Slytherin," said Ginny, smiling.

"Yes, there is a difference between Slytherin and insane, evil git. A subtle one, I'll grant you, but a difference just the same."

"Could have fooled me." Ginny said.

"You're lucky it's against the Malfoy rules to strike a lady."

Ginny spluttered, "There are rules to being a Malfoy?" her tears had stopped now, and a giggle escaped her.

Draco glared through the darkness, "Yes there is, and if you laugh at them again I may have to break them."

Ginny grinned, "So what are you really doing out here after hours?"

Draco sighed, "I was just waiting the rain out, nothing devious or exciting, sorry. What were you doing?"

"I was going to Fred and Georges," said Ginny.

"Funny," said Draco, "I wasn't aware they had relocated to this dark alley."

Ginny glared at him.

"Whatever," said Draco throwing up his hands. "You don't have to tell me, but go back to school, it's not safe out here this time of night."

"No," said Ginny stubbornly. "I told you, I'm going to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." She said this not so much out of an extreme desire to see them, but more because she refused to let him order her around.

Draco sighed and looked at his watch, "Fine, let's go then, we don't want to be any later than we already are."

Ginny stayed where she was and raised her eyebrows. "We?"

"If you think any self-respecting Malfoy would let a pretty, innocent, sixteen year old girl walk through a town with drunk men by herself at night, you're mad."

"I think most Malfoys would make an exception for Weasleys," she said.

Draco had already begun to walk in the direction of Fred and George's shop. "Malfoys make exceptions for no one," he said, without turning around.

Ginny smiled, and ran to catch up with him. She appreciated this a lot actually, even if she didn't say it. She didn't want to be alone right now for multiple reasons, one being that he was right, it was a little dangerous right now at night. She knew that walking into Weasley's Wizard Weazes to visit was one of the last things Draco would want to do, but he was doing it anyway.

They had walked only a few moments when they saw two approaching figures. They were still far off and they couldn't make out any features, just two dark silhouettes coming towards them. It was the voices they heard first.

"I still don't believe that you've really known all this time, the others had no idea," said a disbelieving voice.

"Oh no," whispered Ginny. "That's Belanger. If he catches us out this late we're dead."

"Of course I have," came a second, almost bored sounding voice from the road.

"And that's Fleur!" said Draco. He glanced around quickly then grabbed Ginny by the waist and dragged her into the shadowy doorway of a closed shop.

They both waited in silence as they watched the two teachers walk by, both praying that neither of them would look to their left. They didn't, and finally they were past. Both let out sighs of relief and looked at each other. It was then that Ginny realized just quite how close they were standing, and that Draco's hand was still on her waist. Ginny also realized that her heart was beating very fast, it was pounding almost painfully against her chest as if it was trying to break free. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to be closer to Draco still. Her skin seemed to tingle under his touch, and she wanted to feel more of that, feel his skin against hers, taste his lips. What the hell is going on? She thought, panicking. She tried to think of Harry, almost as a reality check. She reached for that pain that had become a part of her. It wasn't there. There was a faint soreness, as of a wound healing, but the deep, aching pain that was always there suddenly wasn't. It was like a part of her was missing.

Draco pulled her closer to him, and Ginny felt the solidness of his chest. She looked up into his face, the sharp perfect curves of it, his silver eyes, so intoxicating you wanted to drown in them forever. Their faces were so close. His breath on her face was like a cool breeze, she was sure he could feel her heart beating. In a sudden impulse, she stood up on her toes, and covered his mouth with hers. He seemed surprised at first, then his mouth opened beneath hers, and he kissed her back with the smooth confidence that was his trademark. His mouth was cool and icy, almost refreshing. His hands slid up her back, his fingers tracing the bumps on her spine. She let out a small moan of pleasure. She could feel him smile against her lips. He tasted of rain, ice, and another taste that was just his own, something that made her shiver with excitement and a bit of fear. His lips moved down to her neck, her head fell back without her telling it to, air she had not known she had been holding in escaped her in another breathy moan. His hands reached her hair, tangling in the fiery locks, his fingers running lightly through it. His mouth traced its way back to hers now. His kissing was more desperate now, more passionate, it had lost some of its grace. The kiss became faster paced. Her hands ran greedily along the firm curves of his shoulders, back, and neck, she couldn't take him all in fast enough. There was a sudden creak and a bang. The door behind them opened, and they leaped quickly apart.

*******

The old owner of Honeydukes, almost dropped the garbage bags he was carrying in surprise. There were two young people quickly untangling themselves from one another outside his door. He was really slightly embarrassed, though the young, pretty girl with red hair was even more so than him, judging by the crimson color of her cheeks. The blonde boy however, looked very composed, and almost seemed to be smirking at him! He was very handsome, and looked as if he knew it. They simply stared at one another for a good few seconds, and then the red haired girl began to giggle. She clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to stop, but to no avail. The blonde boy turned and looked at her, then his face split with a smile and he began to laugh as well. It looked somehow odd on him, as if he hadn't really laughed in years. But that's impossible, the poor, embarrassed shop owner thought as the two teenagers ran, still laughing, back towards Hogwarts, they're still kids in school, what on earth do they have to be upset about?

That's so sweet!!!

BWA Ha ha ha!

I'm sure you didn't mean to have this twice but I'm just reminding you in case you didn't see it