Out of the Rain

AquamarineCrystal

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 26/05/2005
Last Updated: 26/05/2005
Status: completed

It's Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts and he has suddenly imprisoned himself in his doritory where he doesn't talk or show himself to anyone. Can Hermione come to the rescue and break down his guard? One-Shot.

Chapters

1. Out of the Rain

1. Out of the Rain

A/N: Hi everyone. This is my first story here at Portkey so I hope you like it. I don't have a beta yet because I was so excited that I got my application accepted that I wanted to post something ASAP!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter. It all belongs to J.K Rowling. I do, however own the song “Rain” which is displayed in this fanfiction.

Rated PG for a few language choices and just to be on the safe side

On to the story:

*

It was a cold, dreary day with no sun, warmth, or happiness in sight. It was practically the perfect day to fit Harry's mood.

`Why me?' he thought to himself for what must have been the millionth time. “Why is it me that has to go kill Voldemort or die trying?”

Ever since Harry had found out about the prophecy last year, images of himself going to fight Voldemort and everybody dying but himself plagued his dreams and sometimes even waking thoughts. Sometimes he would even die at the end of these dreams, from grief and loneliness.

Harry walked over to the nearest window in his dormitory, where he now permanently stayed. He had pretty much abandoned going to class, deserted his friends, and locked up all words and thoughts inside his head. He hadn't shown himself to anyone in over a month; he stayed in his four poster when anybody was near him where charms were placed around preventing anyone from seeing him or looking at him. He, of course, heard the pleas daily of wanting him to come out, but he just ignored them. Teachers and members of the order came at least twice a week to try to pry Harry out of his self made chamber, but no words, charms, or spells, could break through Harry's mind or hangings. Not one.

The great Dumbledore himself had even came and performed a series of complex charms on the bed, but either Dumbledore had weakened a great deal or Harry had strengthened because nothing he did or said could even make a dent on Harry's desire to just give up.

Give up, was that what Harry wanted? To just give up after what had happened? Just give up when he had people who cared about him just out of reach?

He had thought about that many times and he came to a definite answer: He didn't care. He didn't care about anything: he didn't care about his friends, magic; hell, he even didn't care about Voldemort. He especially didn't care about school work, which Hermione had persistently reminded was still out there waiting for him to get started on.

Hermione. Something had happened since he imprisoned himself to his bed, feelings for her being more than just a friend to him had awakened from a part of him that he never even knew existed. Thoughts of him and her together swirled around the miniscule part of his brain that still did care. Of course, Harry never bothered to touch that part of his brain once he found out about what he really thought about Hermione.

Harry sighed once again and slowly stomped back to his bed. Why had he even gotten up anyways? What happened to his resolve to never get out of his bed again?

`Nobody saw me,' Harry thought to himself. `Does it matter?' Carefully, Harry climbed back to his four poster and groped around for his wand. Upon finding it, he waved it around his hand, muttered a three word spell, and watched as a ham and cheese sandwich appeared in his hand.

When he was halfway done with his lunch, he started to hear faint footsteps not too far away from him. Quickly taking out his wand again, he made the other half of this sandwich disappear and pushed the hangings to his bed closed.

Harry watched through a small hole as the door to the dormitory swung open and a figure made itself into the room.

It was Hermione.

At the beginning of this whole self imprisonment, Hermione had come at least five times a day, coaxing him to come out. A week later; however, she had stopped coming and he hadn't heard from her since. Until now, that is.

Hermione's figure slowly made itself towards Harry. When she was about three feet away from the bed, he placed his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

Hermione was now inches away from the small crack in the hangings around Harry's bed. She carefully lowered her head to the hole but as soon as she did so, the hangings came whipping out and slapped her so forcefully in the face that she fell backwards on to the floor shrieking.

“Harry!” she yelled as she landed with a thud. “Harry, you stupid git.”

Harry didn't say anything but he did sit up and open the hangings again just enough to see Hermione sobbing on the wooden floor.

After about five minutes of Hermione just sobbing on the floor, she finally picked herself up and walked once again to Harry's bed.

Velvet hangings shut safely, Harry was lying down on his bed waiting for her to go away.

But being Hermione, she just wouldn't.

“Harry,” she whispered. “Harry, please, please don't do this to yourself.

Harry said nothing, which obviously wasn't a surprise.

“Harry, you can't hide from your fears. You should know that! Everyone's waiting for you to come back, they need you!”

“What, to kill Voldemort for them?” Harry surprised himself by shouting. Actually, it was more of a croak from the lack of use of his voice.

Apparently it had surprised Hermione, too, because she had jumped and uttered a slight scream when she heard him. “No, no,” she recovered quickly. “They just need you. Not your magic.”

“Liar!” Harry yelled. His voice was rapidly returning. “All they care about is the fucking prophecy!”

“Harry, what are you talking about?”

“The damn…” Harry faded away. He had forgotten that she didn't know. “Nothing.”

“Harry, you're hiding something from me, aren't you?” Hermione demanded. “Well, besides you, that is.”

Silence.

“Harry, answer me! Tell me!”

“No.”

“Harry, you've got to! Maybe I can help you!” Hermione pleaded.

“No, no, no one can help me, can't you see? No one! So just go away!”

“No,” Hermione said defiantly. “No, I refuse to go until I at least know what's going on.”

“That I guess you'll be waiting a long time…”

“Harry, this is ridiculous. Just tell me.”

“No.”

“Harry…”

“Fine!” the hangings were suddenly ripped open and Harry appeared.

Hermione gasped at first at Harry's appearance. His jet black hair was so messy and unruly that is was about a hundred times worse then usual, if possible and it seemed at least two inches longer. Dark circles lay under his dull green eyes that were no longer hidden by glasses. The jeans and green hooded sweatshirt that he had worn when he first imprisoned himself were still on him but they were extremely ruffled and wrinkled. Dark dots and lines covered his chin and his skin was about five shades paler than is was before.

“What, no, Harry…”

“Just shut up,” Harry told her. “And please, don't call me by Harry anymore. I'm sick of being Harry James Potter. Call me Daniel, or Ryan, or Jeremy, or something other than Harry.”

“Fine,” Hermione said, forgetting that fact that he had just told her to shut up rather rudely.

“Now, you want to know what the prophecy is, don't you?”

“Of course.”

“Well, you see, it's quite simple really. Someone made a prophecy over sixteen years ago to Professor Dumbledore. It went like this:

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives….The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies….”

Harry slumped back onto his back when he had finished reciting the prophecy. He closed his eyes while he patiently waited for Hermione's reaction.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione started. She clamped her mouth shut, though, when she noticed Harry stick his fingers in his ears when he heard his name being said. Any other day she would have found this funny, for his actions mimicked those of a little school boy.

“Oh Jeremy,” Hermione began again. “You, you, you can not be the one the prophecy talks about.”

Harry opened his eyes. “It could have been either me or Neville. Neville was born at the end of July. Neville was born to parents who thrice defied Voldemort. But no, Voldemort had to pick little old me.”

“Jeremy, what are you talking about?”

“Didn't you listen? Didn't you hear the part where Voldemort had to mark the person in the prophecy as his equal?” Harry lifted the long black bangs off of his forehead to make his scar visible.

Hermione gasped again. “Voldemort marked you with that scar!”

Harry nodded slowly, almost as if to congratulate a slow-learning child who had finally mastered a concept in school.

“Jeremy, why did it have to be you? Why?” tears filled Hermione's eyes yet again.

“Duh, because I'm me,” Harry turned his head towards the door.

Hermione stared at the side of Harry's face. Comprehension dawned on her features for the second time in the past five minutes. “Neither can live while the other survives…” she whispered with wide eyes.

Harry nodded curtly. “I'm to become either a murderer or a dead guy.”

Hermione didn't seem to have heard her best friend. “You must kill him or be killed by him!”

Harry stared blankly ahead still while droplets of salty water ran down Hermione's cheeks in little streams. His own eyes started to water, but he tried his best to hold them in.

“You c-can't die! I won't l-let you!” Hermione dropped down the floor. “No!”

Harry couldn't hold it in anymore. He let his body face the back of Hermione's head while a few lonesome tears quietly trickled down from his eyes.

One of the tears landed in the center of Hermione's hair, causing it to bounce and start to trail down her long, curly hair. She whipped around to face Harry. “Jeremy, Jeremy you're crying.”

Harry blinked, trying to desperately to stop his tears. He could not let anyone, especially Hermione, know that the famous boy-who-lived knew how to cry.

Hermione noticed this. “Jeremy, no Harry, it's okay to cry. You don't have to be afraid to let your emotions show. Honestly, no one's perfect in that area.”

Harry just nodded sadly as Hermione stood up. She carefully sat down on the bed beside him, hoping he wouldn't push her away.

He didn't. On the contrary, he looked relived that she had done what she did. He scooted over closer to her and laid his head on her shoulder.

Hermione smiled ever so slightly. She had always longed for Harry to show some of what he was feeling, and come seek comfort from herself. Cautiously, Hermione reached out her hand and placed it on his back, moving it up in down in soothing patterns. After a minute, she started to sing sweetly to Harry.

One day the tears will come

The tears will come, the tears will come

One day, the pain will fall

The pain will fall, the pain will fall

Like rain—washing over me

A loud, anguishing cry escaped Harry as sobs ran out of his body. He had never done something like this before, he had never cried, even when the Dursleys had done their worst on him.

Even though so much has happened

So many bad thins, so many sad things

For some reason it hasn't sunk in-enough

To make me cry

Hermione was right. No matter what happened, nothing sunk in enough for Harry to make him cry. `Until now,' he thought bitterly.

But one—day

Things—will change

Cuz

One day the tears will come

The tears will come, the tears will come

One day, the pain will fall

The pain will fall, the pain will fall

Like rain, washing over me

Another loud cry broke from Harry's body as thoughts of the previous year swam through his mind. Most of these thoughts were focused on one name, and one name only: Sirius.

I wanna go back into the past

And change the things I wanna change

But time keeps on rushing by

And I can't catch up with it

I can't grab on and change its speed

Change it's pace, change its direction

I can't find a palce to just stop-

And live a little……

Harry's tears had soaked through the fabric of Hermione's pale pink shirt. And still, more tears kept coming.

But one---day

Things-------will change

Cuz

One day the tears will come

The tears will come, the tears will come

One day, the pain will fall

The pain will fall, the pain will fall

Like rain—washing over me

It felt as if a knife pierced through Harry's heart as his face contorted in pain. His feelings started to transform back into what they were earlier-defeat.

Can't take it anymore

My heart is so sore

Somebody find me

I don't wanna feel lost no more

I don't know anymore

Somebody find me (oh yeah)

Bring me back

Bring me hom

Cuz I Want It

Hopelessness pulsed through his veins once more. His tears came to an abrupt end and he pulled his head up sharply. Hermione noticed his quick movements and turned his way. She gave him a look that said everything was going to be okay, without skipping a beat in her song.

But one---day

Things----will change

Cuz

One day the tears will come

The tears will come, the tears will come

One day, the pain will fall

The pain will fall, the pain will fall

Like rain—washing over me

Harry knew she was coming to the end of her song. Suddenly feeling hope's graceful rhythm again, he gently joined Hermione's voice for the last chorus.

One day the tears will come

The tears will come, the tears will come

One day, the pain will fall

The pain will fall, the pain will fall

Like rain—washing over me

The last notes of the two voices stayed in the air after the song was finished. When they finally stopped, remnants of them still seemed to be lingering.

“Hermione,” Harry breathed. “That was, that was beautiful.”

Hermione blushed profusely. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“Where did you learn to sing like that?”

Hermione smiled. “I had always loved to sing as a little girl, I guess I never really realized that I was any good since I have always been doing it.”

“Who wrote that song?”

Hermione blushed again. “I did.”

Harry's dark dull eyes widened. While he conveyed his expression of surprise, Hermione noticed something: Harry's eyes weren't really that dull or dark anymore. Their usual brightness and sparkle was returning rapidly, along with their emerald green color.

Harry smiled at his friend and started blushing when he noticed that she was staring into his eyes unblinking. “Is something the matter?”

“No, sorry,” Hermione looked away. “It's just that your eyes, well, they seem like they were before.”

“I feel like I did before.”

Hermione looked back at Harry. She suddenly realized something: she had broken through the barriers that people had tried to break for the past almost two months. She had succeeded in bringing Harry Potter back.

“Does that mean you're going to come out of hiding?” Hermione asked.

Harry laughed for the first time in what felt like years. “I think so.”

Hermione beamed. She threw her arms around him and grinned even more when she felt him returning the hug.

Courage and bravery that was only worthy of a true Gryffindor pumped in Hermione's heart. “There's something I've been meaning to tell you, Harry.”

Harry pulled away looking confused, but still concerned. “What is it?”

“Well, it's about…us.”

Harry looked even more puzzled now. “Us? What do you mean?”

Hermione looked down at her hands. Was she pushing things? Was it the right time to ask or should she wait until she knew Harry was fully recovered from his depression? And even if she did ask, wouldn't he just say no and think her crazy?

`No,' something in the back of her head shouted. `No this is the right time. Now go for it.'

“Well, you see, we're friends right?”

“Best friends,” Harry stated.

“Yes, but I think, I think, I think I feel something more for you.” Hermione took the plunge. She closed her eyes, waiting for rejection.

Harry's puzzled face changed into one of knowing. “Oh, I see.”

“And well, I know I'm only sixteen, and you're only sixteen, but I think, well I think…”

`Just say it Granger!' her mind screamed at her.

“I think I'm in love with you Harry! I love you!”

Harry looked shocked. His eyes were yet again widened and he looked as if he had never been more surprised in his life.

“And I know you can't feel that same way but…” Hermione went on, not noticing that Harry had stopped listening.

“I can't believe this,” Harry shook his head.

Tears filled Hermione's eyes. Just as she had feared, rejection was on its way.

“I can't believe that you feel the same way about me, the same way I feel about you,” a smile started to grace Harry's features.

Hermione met Harry's eyes. `Did I just hear him right?'

“Really, Hermione, I love you,” Harry said looking at Hermione.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

The two teenagers slowly started to grin at each other. This was it, the moment they've been waiting for. They'd just confessed their love to each other and found out that they felt the exact same way about each other. Both of their faces gradually inched towards each other until they were about a centimeter apart.

Harry looked into Hermione's gold and cinnamon colored eyes while she did the same into Harry's orbs of emerald.

Both of them nodded simultaneously. No sooner had they done so, than Harry's lips crashed over Hermione's and fireworks blasted in their heads.

And so, on the day that Harry's walls of defense had been shattered, he also shared his first real kiss (He didn't count Cho's as real.) with the girl he loved, who also loved him back.

After close to five minutes of kissing, they broke apart.

“And Harry,” Hermione whispered.

“Yes?”

“Everything's going to be alright.”

The End

***

Well I hope you enjoyed this fiction and the song. What I'm planning on doing is creating an extended edition of this with multiple chapters and a plot. Well, at least sort of a plot. Anyways, reviews are appreciated!

:)

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