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Drabble: An Old Witch's Tale
Title: An Old Witch's Tale
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nicevenn
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Beta:missscarletjoy Thanks!
Wordcount: ~300
Summary: There's a part of Draco that never grew up.
A/N: This is dedicated to someone who won a charity auction from me but sadly passed away before I finally got my act together and wrote it. Her prompt was "rain." ♥
An old witch's tale claims that the first rain of spring, should it begin to fall at twilight, can wash away even the darkest stains from a person's soul. Just once every few years, nature gifts the world with this most potent healing power. Diseases of both mind and body vanish in an instant, the rain succeeding where potions and spells have failed. A true panacea, they say. But Draco knows better. It is only the child inside him that bids he stand alone by the lake at dusk and dawn every day – hoping, wishing.
Draco hears the low rumble of thunder overhead, and he swallows. If the rain comes, it will prove to that silly, childish part of him that there is no miracle cure. He will never be as he was before the war. The pain will never go away.
A cool droplet hits his nose. The lake's surface ripples here and there and the leaves begin to rustle. He stretches out a hand, palm upward, to catch the rain. One droplet splashes onto the center of his palm; two more onto his wrist and the tip of his finger. It feels good but not exactly healing.
His shirt is getting soaked. He wonders if he's supposed to take off his clothes, but his thoughts are interrupted. Someone has stepped up beside him. Draco doesn't need to look to see who it is. He can recognise the boy by his very presence.
Potter.
A moment passes by in silence. "I wanted to be alone," Draco says, but he could just as well have said nothing because Potter doesn't leave. Nor does he respond.
Draco sighs and closes his eyes. This is so stupid. He doesn't feel any different. If anything, the rain has opened up the wounds of his psyche.
Potter is standing so close that their little fingers brush. The touch sends a tingle through Draco's arm, and his heart flutters. Maybe, if he allows it to happen, Potter will take his hand. And once their fingers are laced together, if he turns and looks into the other boy's eyes, maybe Potter will kiss him. Maybe they'll both enjoy it so much that they'll continue to sneak about the castle at night, snogging in dark corridors and empty classrooms.
Draco takes a deep breath to clear his head. None of that could ever happen. They hate each other, after all. It is only the child inside Draco that keeps him glued to the spot, chewing his lip as he stares ahead at the rippling water – hoping, wishing.
Author:
nicevennPairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Beta:
missscarletjoy Thanks!Wordcount: ~300
Summary: There's a part of Draco that never grew up.
A/N: This is dedicated to someone who won a charity auction from me but sadly passed away before I finally got my act together and wrote it. Her prompt was "rain." ♥
An old witch's tale claims that the first rain of spring, should it begin to fall at twilight, can wash away even the darkest stains from a person's soul. Just once every few years, nature gifts the world with this most potent healing power. Diseases of both mind and body vanish in an instant, the rain succeeding where potions and spells have failed. A true panacea, they say. But Draco knows better. It is only the child inside him that bids he stand alone by the lake at dusk and dawn every day – hoping, wishing.
Draco hears the low rumble of thunder overhead, and he swallows. If the rain comes, it will prove to that silly, childish part of him that there is no miracle cure. He will never be as he was before the war. The pain will never go away.
A cool droplet hits his nose. The lake's surface ripples here and there and the leaves begin to rustle. He stretches out a hand, palm upward, to catch the rain. One droplet splashes onto the center of his palm; two more onto his wrist and the tip of his finger. It feels good but not exactly healing.
His shirt is getting soaked. He wonders if he's supposed to take off his clothes, but his thoughts are interrupted. Someone has stepped up beside him. Draco doesn't need to look to see who it is. He can recognise the boy by his very presence.
Potter.
A moment passes by in silence. "I wanted to be alone," Draco says, but he could just as well have said nothing because Potter doesn't leave. Nor does he respond.
Draco sighs and closes his eyes. This is so stupid. He doesn't feel any different. If anything, the rain has opened up the wounds of his psyche.
Potter is standing so close that their little fingers brush. The touch sends a tingle through Draco's arm, and his heart flutters. Maybe, if he allows it to happen, Potter will take his hand. And once their fingers are laced together, if he turns and looks into the other boy's eyes, maybe Potter will kiss him. Maybe they'll both enjoy it so much that they'll continue to sneak about the castle at night, snogging in dark corridors and empty classrooms.
Draco takes a deep breath to clear his head. None of that could ever happen. They hate each other, after all. It is only the child inside Draco that keeps him glued to the spot, chewing his lip as he stares ahead at the rippling water – hoping, wishing.