Rainy Coffee

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He had his wand.

Harry Potter had his wand, and he had yet to return it. It wasn't like Potter had already sent an owl about the wand. In fact he had. Although, the only thing it said on the letter was

Do you want your wand back?
-Harry Potter

It was a stupid question really, depend on Harry Potter to send the most vague letter ever, but then again the lack of explanation on it posed itself a simple question that needed a simple answer. Frankly, he could just buy a new one that suited him just as well as the first one.

But, that wand was-like anybody else's first wand-special. It was smooth and had its own simplicity to it that made it look as sophisticated as the owner. With two ringlets at the top of the wand's black handle, and then the black of the wand turning into an ombré of brown just above the handle and to the tip. It was ten inches exactly, made up of Hawthorn and unicorn tail for its core.

So he went against buying a new one. Besides, it wasn't that it was destroyed or broken, it was simply in the wrong hands.

Draco Malfoy let out a sigh as he opened the jar of jet black ink at his mahogany desk, dipping his quill in it and then hesitating before writing on the blank piece of parchment before him.

Yes, I'd like it back please. I don't mind getting it myself, if you don't mind. Just send me the place and time, and I'll be there.
Thank you,
Draco Malfoy

Another reason why he didn't 'mind' was that his mother actually kept pestering Draco about being cooped up inside all day. Something about being 'a dark entity of displeasure' everywhere. Whatever that meant anyway.

It's not like he had anything to be particularly happy about either. His father was in Azkaban serving time, and it didn't help the Daily Prophet was constantly trying to dig up new reasons for everyone to hate anyone with the Malfoy name. It had already been half a year since the war, and it still felt like it was yesterday.

Of course, that seemed to be how long it took for Harry Potter to remember his wand.

As Draco tied the letter to his owl, he looked outside. The weather was solemnly cloudy and murky. The clouds were a depressing color of grey and looked like splattered dark tears in the sky.

Usually, Draco welcomed this type of weather, although it wasn't usually this gloomy.
He enjoyed the quiet pitter-patter of raindrops all throughout the manors windows and walls, the echoing thunder in the long halls, and the flicker of shadows from the lightning.

This time though, he dreaded the sudden quietness and fresh loneliness the rain would bring.

~~~~

"So, this is it, isn't it?" Ron Weasley asked, his voice a painful whisper.

Harry Potter swallowed, and another bead of sweat formed on his forehead, just next to the scar resembling a lightning bolt. He nodded stiffly as he looked at his best mate in a look of pure despair.

Ron caught the beaten look on Harry's face and looked away."It was nice knowing you mate."

Just then Hermione Granger walked into the room, her hands carrying spray bottles with all sorts of anti-liquids and Doxicides.

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