Deliverance | Draco Malfoy

One

tw: This chapter has mentions of abuse and emotional trauma, as well as sexual content. Read with caution.

Rain. Just like the gloomy weather that almost nobody seemed to care for. The murky, cold, dreadful precipitation that dragged down moods and made you feel like the greatest depression of your life was weighing down on your shoulders when you saw a glimpse of it.

There are a few positives to rain. It is essential for life. It provides us with hydration and proper nutrients, because everything that lives and breathes on this planet needed water to stay alive— even Muggles.

But it's very rare that rain only comes and goes in showers. Most of the time it's just the annoying storm that just won't go away. It doesn't know when to stop or give it up. It can't leave if it isn't finished emptying itself on to other people... And an excessive amount of it just leaves you with risks and damage. Flooding, leaks, accidents, landslides...

No one in their right mind really likes rain. The few people that do love it— like genuinely, whole heartedly love it— are just as fucked up as the world we have been forced to live in. Those people are convinced it brings them peace because of the rhythm it patters the ground with. Some people claim it's lucky— ha! I pity the fools... They say they like the fresh smell and how the sensation of it touching their soft skin feels...

"Fuck, Rain-"

I suppose that is a statement I can't argue with. Some people thoroughly enjoy the sensation...

"Keep going, love. Just like that." His head fell back against the wooden door with a thud— just like it had every other time he was shoving his dick so far down my throat, tears would stream down my face and my throat would contract to try and rid itself of the unaccustomed feeling.

But, from my own personal experience—those are the only real positives that anyone can ever list. I have lived with the hatred that everyone feels towards rain every day. Nothing but anger, sadness, a sense of disappointment, a longing for something brighter and less depressing, and if you stay out in it for too long, you get sick.

People curse at the rain for how much it ruins their lives— ruins their plans. It brings nothing but negativity anywhere it goes.

My mother was too optimistic for the rest of the world. She saw the positive sides of anything. Maybe that's why they killed her as a punishment for her actions— because she really was a beacon of light that hateful people sought to destroy.

She was one of few people that believed in rain having a better meaning than anyone gave it credit for. She thought by naming me after it, she could help people realize the beauty of the dangerous and hideous form of weather.

Physically, she did. I grew into a beautiful girl that should be grateful for my stunning features. My father had reminded me of that every fucking time I could smell his bourbon breath from a hallways length away.

Now, before you jump to that conclusion, the answer is no. No, my father never raped me or was the kind of guy that "played games" with me when the drinking consumed him. He abused me in any way that you could imagine, but thank God sexually was where he drew the line. (Unfortunately, I tend to only be so sarcastic in my head. I learned to "shut my fucking mouth" about 6 years ago when my jaw was slapped so hard that the portraits in the hall of our manor even gasped at the noise.)

Don't worry about it though, because while growing up I fell under the basic description of beauty and brains, so that meant that I could feel like I was worth something in this world. The brains portion was something my father used as a tool in his handbag. "You think your kid is smart? Wait 'til you hear about the marks my little Raindrop received last term." Just another trophy in his case that he polishes to show off to those around him.