𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

Chapter 5

Revelations

Freedom, oh freedom

Well, that's just some people talkin'

Your prison is walking through this world all alone.

- "Desperado," The Eagles

Harry had always secretly liked the rain.

Perhaps it was because when he was growing up, rainy days meant he had fewer outdoor chores. Nasty as she could be, Aunt Petunia wouldn't force Harry to work outside; he might trudge in mud onto her waxed tile floors. Dudley's beastly friends were also less likely to come over to play if it were storming, which meant a reprieve from their games of Harry-Hunting.

Or maybe it was that he had always liked the sound of rain pattering on the roof. Even in his cupboard under the stairs, he could hear the torrential sheets beating against the house and the wind howling past the windows. Aunt Petunia would tut about the living room, bolting the door as if the storm might otherwise invite itself in. Harry liked the rain then because it felt suspenseful, as though great things could happen during storms. Storms, after all, seemed an awful lot like magic: they lit up the sky and made things happen and prompted strange behavior in otherwise ordinary people.

Or perhaps, more generally, Harry liked the rain because it was cleansing. It may have been dark and dreary when it fell, but in the morning, everything would be fresh, rejuvenated, and reborn. In rain was redemption, for flowers and trees and streetcars and little boys.

So when Draco Apparated them away from Grimmauld Place and they landed on a street in the pouring rain, Harry tossed his head back and let the water come and wash away the grime and tension of the past few days.

The sky was an angry gray, and the rain didn't seem to just be falling - it seemed intent on pounding itself into the ground and wiping away everything in its path. Harry squinted at their surroundings. To his left, the rain was rushing into a shallow river, sweeping mud from the bank into the murky water. An old wooden railing stood between Harry and the river, and in front of him, the cobblestone street curved past a string of dilapidated old houses.

"Well, come on!" Draco, it seemed, was far less tolerant of the rain than Harry. He looked like a wet cat, with his hair clinging to his pouting face, and he shook out the invisibility cloak. "You ought to get under here, too."

Harry shoved a clump of hair out of his own face and grinned. "Yeah, thanks. We can both stay a little drier that way."

Draco exhaled loudly. "No, you imbecile. It's to keep from being seen.. Now get under here!" He threw the cloak over his head and held out one end for Harry.

It really wasn't big enough for two wizards of their height. Harry knew this already, but he hadn't realized exactly how close he would have to get to Draco to have the cloak cover them both completely. Draco fastidiously tried to arrange it to cover their feet, but standing side by side, they were too wide to make it fit.

"Here, get in front of me," Draco said, "and hunch over a bit. It should cover us then."

Blushing slightly, Harry stepped in front of Draco and bent forward slightly. It was already warm under the cloak, despite the dampness from the rain, and Harry could feel every breath that Draco took. Harry busied himself by making sure his own feet were hidden while Draco tucked himself against Harry, resting his hands lightly on Harry's waist. "All right, walk forward."

"I can barely see," grumbled Harry. "Between the cloak and the rain ..." The cloak wasn't really keeping out any of the rain. The water was actually making it heavier, and it clung to their skin uncomfortably.