Who Will Stop the Rain

Letter From No-One

When Draco Apparated to the entrance of The Leaky Cauldron, he was relieved to see that the street was deserted, although the rain was much heavier here than it had been in Hogsmeade. Pushing the door open, he kept his hood up and face covered as he beelined straight for the bar where Tom the Barman stood absentmindedly dusting a pint glass in the deserted pub. Draco slid a fistful of coins across the bar and murmured, "Room, please."

Tom stared at the obscene amount of money offered to him for a moment before he gave a curt nod in understanding - Draco wasn't the first customer to pay for discretion. Tom slid the coins off of the counter and into his pocket, then inclined his head for Draco to follow, "This way, sir."

Tom ushered Draco to the floor above the pub and unlocked one of the unoccupied bedrooms for him. Handing him his room key he whispered, "If you need anything, just call on me, sir." then turned without another word and descended the rickety staircase back to the pub. Draco entered the room and closed the door behind him, taking in his new, more peaceful surroundings. The room was modest in size and furnishings, but Draco took little notice of this. Instead he tossed his cloak on the bed and sat down at the small writing desk, enjoying the peace and quiet for a few moments. Coming here had been a spur of the moment decision and it was certainly better without the press on his heels. He could rely on Tom to turn away any reporters who might come looking for him here. But the relief of his solitude was short-lived, as now he had nothing to distract him from his own spirally thoughts - where was Scorpius? Was he hurt? If the Origami Killer was the one that took him, then he only had a few days to find him before...but how could he find him? What could he do? He didn't know what to do...

In a vain effort to occupy himself, he dragged the cheap stationary towards him and began to scribble down all the different locations that he could check for Scorpius. He knew that his list writing probably wouldn't help, but he was desperate just to do something - anything - to alleviate feeling so useless. He thought of every place he had ever taken Scorpius, every place he had ever been himself, even everywhere he remembered Astoria had ever mentioned visiting. He thought about contacting her, but he was the last person in the world she wanted to see right now. He couldn't blame her for hating him. His hand paused over the parchment for a moment before he relented and added the locations of where the other boy's bodies had been found. Draco doubted he would find anything there, but he would leave no stone unturned.

Draco lost track of time as he sat there, only the sound of the rain beating off of the window and the quill scratching on parchment permeating the otherwise silent room. He continued to write even when his wrist hurt, only ceasing when his brain felt numb and he could think of nothing else to write. He quickly scanned through the long list of locations before tucking the thick pile of parchment into his robes, pulled his cloak back on and marched out of the room. His search may be fruitless, but he had to do something - anything - to find his boy.

Tom the Barman ascended the stairs to the rooms above the pub, closely followed by Hermione.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you 'round here, Ms. Granger," he noted brightly. "How is Mr. Potter keeping these days?"

"Well enough," she replied. "Always busy working. We'll need to make time to come back here and see you, Tom."

"That'd be lovely," the old barman smiled, beckoning her to one of the vacant rooms. As Tom fumbled to open the lock, the door to the adjoining room opened and Draco Malfoy stepped out. A small frown creased his face as he noticed Hermione, but she kept her expression impassive, pretending she hadn't seen him as she waited patiently for Tom to open the door for her. Draco slammed the bedroom door shut behind him and stalked wordlessly down the corridor, Hermione's eyes trailing after him until he was out of sight.