wook77 | awdt entry "Rain"

For this weeks AWDT (by

nocturnali), the prompt was "It was a summer rain". I'm still in a bit of a dark place in my life (I won't bore you with details) so I wrote this little fillet/drably type thing. It is dark, be forewarned.

Title: Rain
Pairing: Gen Fic - Harry-centric
Rating: PG-13dish?
Warnings: death, dying, quid ditch
Summary (or excerpt as the case may be): It was a summer rain that heralded the end. The sky cried for the loss of life and innocence...
A/N: It's not all death and dying and stuff. Concrit makes me happy and helps me improve.

It was a summer rain that heralded the end. The sky cried for the loss of life and innocence so clearly shown on the battlefield. Harry walked through the twisted remains and didn't see, refused to see. Some of the bodies were faceless in their masks, others faceless in his grief. He didn't see the broken form of Neville laying to the left, didn't see Padma’s arm as he tripped over it, didn’t see Justin’s frozen screaming countenance.

When he reached the hill just outside the circle of dead, he sat and stared out over the field. His chin rested on his knees as they pressed against his chest, his arms locked around his bent legs as he rocked in place. Incongruously, he wondered where the soft mewling noises were coming from as the rain continued to pour from the sky and wash away the worst of the dirt and damage. He really wished whatever was making that noise would stop because it was starting to wear on his nerves. A hitch in his breath showed him that it was himself making the noise and he resolutely wiped a hand across his face.

He wouldn’t cry, there was no need for tears. The world was saved, he’d done his duty. It wasn’t his fault that people died. They should’ve saved themselves, it wasn’t his fault, dammit. It wasn’t his fault.

As that mantra kept ricocheting through his head, he realized the mewling noise had switched to a high pitched keening noise. He was almost startled when he couldn’t breathe because of the sobs welling up from his chest. The rocking increased and he gripped his knees painfully tight.

The soft downpour hid the tear tracks on Harry’s face as he howled his grief to the grey skies. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, whispered through his head. It was just supposed to be me and him, just me and him. Why wasn’t it just me and him?

“It was never just you and him, Harry. It couldn’t be.” The voice, so soft, came from nowhere. Harry’s head whipped from side to side to find where the comforting voice came from. All he saw were the dead.

“We were always with you, Harry. You were never alone, prophecy or not.” Another voice came out of the air around him.

“Cry for us, Harry, mourn for us but there is so much out there for you.” This time, Harry swore he felt a hand on his shoulder as he rocked and cried.

“We love you, Harry.” This voice, the one that called to him in his dreams, solidified in front of him. There, wearing a heartbroken smile was his mother. Behind her, the voices solidified into Neville and Ron and Justin and the rest of the dead. Their forms wavered in the light of the oncoming dusk. There were fewer souls than he was expecting and more than he wanted.

“Get off your ass, Potter! We have practice in five minutes!” The voice forced Harry out of his nightmare. “How anyone can sleep with rain coming down everywhere, I don’t get!”

Harry got up off the bleacher he was resting on and looked around until he saw Neville standing nearby. Neville gave a startled squeak when Harry hugged him tightly.

“What was that for?” Neville questioned as Harry let him go. Harry only smiled as he kicked off from the ground and was soaring in the spring rain.