Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain (A Drarry Fanfic)

Chapter 2

Something huge and silvery exploded in front of Draco's eyes. Draco blinked, looked around and concluded he had been dreaming.

It was still early. The common room was quiet except for Goyle snoring on the armchair beside him and the logs crackling in the fireplace. He could not hear the rain. Draco pulled off his hood, looked up, and then scowled at the cloud that was still there above his head. It was no longer raining, however, and though Draco's clothes were damp and uncomfortable, they weren't sopping wet.

Draco shot up, grinning, and hurried out of the common room. He almost tried to Vanish the cloud himself on his way to the hospital wing, but decided not to chance it. It was probably best to let Pomfrey handle it. He was sure that she would. The rain had stopped and the cloud was peaceful.

His hopes were premature, however. At least that was what Pomfrey had said when she had failed to vanish the cloud (after she had grumbled and pointed out it was five in the morning; even her hairnet seemed to glare at Draco). This time she was armed with spells Draco had never heard of before, but none of them worked. When he exited the hospital wing, with a new vial of Calming Draught and steam coming out of his ears thanks to another dosage of Pepper-Up, it was raining again.

It was Saturday and the castle was quiet, except for the occasional thunder that Draco was sure came from outside not from his cloud. Draco went to his dormitory and took the chance to have a long shower in peace. He changed his clothes and reluctantly set aside Potter's cloak. It was far from dry but it had brought him luck; it kept him warm through the night. And it smelled nice. Not that Draco's clothes didn't smell nice, but Potter's scent was somehow more appealing.

Draco abandoned his pointless thoughts and went to the kitchens. The house-elves were happy to serve him food and some pumpkin juice, bowing and telling him what a lovely cloud he had, and inquiring if this was the latest wizarding fashion. Three chocolate éclairs later, he felt well enough to write to his parents and ask them to send him cloaks, robes and possibly a professional to cure him, if they could find one.

He went back to the common room ("I'll be able to smirk when I've done all my work," the centaur made him say before he let him pass) and Summoned a piece of parchment, ink and Susan Bones' Quick-Quotes Quill, and then he tried to write a letter to his mother.

"I had a minor accident in class. Nothing to worry about, but I need you to send me some new clothes," he said aloud.

"Please, mother, send me a cloak; I'm filled with rage and desperation. My classmates think I'm a joke; have mercy on your own creation, and let him not dwell on his damnation," the Quick-Quotes Quill wrote.

Draco threw the parchment into the fire and gave up. He didn't feel like whinging at his mother anyway. Instead, he drank the whole vial of Calming Draught and went back to sleep.

In what seemed like no time at all, Draco was woken up by an earthquake. It split the muddy Hogwarts grounds in half and the abyss opened its giant mouth, croaking, "Malfoy. Damn you, Malfoy!"

Draco frowned and opened his eyes. The abyss turned to Potter. His fingers dug into Draco's shoulders, shaking him mercilessly.

"What the hell did you do?" Potter yelled at him. He looked terrified. And sodden.

Draco tried to straighten, but his limbs were heavy and his head felt too large for his neck to bear. He looked around blearily. He was surrounded by at least twenty students, all of them in their pyjamas, dripping wet, with frowns on their faces and their eyes wide.