The sky outside her house is dark, save for the majestic streaks of lightning that light up the sky every minute or so. The wind is rolling in from the south, thick with the promise of rain.

Ginny loves it when it rains.

When it rains, she remembers.

She remembers an incident in the Potions classroom during detention. An evening that started out with two foes entering the classroom and emerging as…… well, she wouldn’t say that they were friends yet. But they had an understanding, the sixth year Slytherin and the fifth-year Gryffindor. Something sparked between them that night.

She remembers the first time he truly declared their friendship.

It was over the Christmas holidays during her fifth year. Ron, Harry and Hermione had all gone home to the Burrow to spend time with the rest of the Weasleys. Ginny, pleading OWLs and a need to study, stayed behind at Hogwarts.

At least, that was the plan. She woke up Christmas Eve morning feeling as though she couldn’t even lift her eyelids. As the morning wore on, she was barely able to crawl out of bed to make it to the loo. When she finally made it there, she spent the next hour on her knees, clutching the toilet bowl and emptying the contents of her stomach into it.

While she was crawling back to her warm, comfortable bed, she thought she saw something move in the corner of the room. When she looked again and saw nothing, she wrote it off as a side-effect of her sickness. Yanking the covers back, she sighed as she sank into the layers of blankets and pillows.

Several hours later (she couldn’t remember if it was four or five hours), she could feel her stomach rumbling in hunger, yet she couldn’t muster the strength to make it down to the Great Hall. She closed her eyes in frustration, and a few tears leaked out as she heard the first claps of thunder outside her window.

Just at that moment, said window burst open. Outlined by a flash of lightning was a person on a broomstick, holding a large sack which was balanced precariously on his lap.

Ginny gasped, albeit halfheartedly, as Draco flew into the room and jumped off his room in front of her bed.

At her questioning look, he said, “I got worried when you didn’t come down for breakfast or lunch, and you weren’t in the library. So I had one of the house elves check on you, and she-Blinkin, Winkin, whatever her sodding name is- said you were in here throwing your guts up.”

He grinned as she wearily raised her hand to make a rude gesture towards him. “So, I come forth bearing soup and some sort of Muggle soft drink the house elves found in the pantries.” He pulled out a covered container of chicken broth and some sort of strange bottle with the word “Sprite” on the front of it.

“Why?” she managed to whisper, so quietly he had to bend down to hear her.

He smiled and brushed a lock of hair out of face. “Because that’s what friends are for, Weaslette.”

Ginny felt that this single deed was the nicest thing that any friend had ever done for her. It was understood, of course, that their friendship had to be hidden and quiet. Since they weren’t able to meet face-to-face during classes, they exchanged owls several times a day. She knew that he was supposed to try to kill Dumbledore; she knew how scared he was that Voldemort would kill his mother. She also knew how he never wanted to be a Death Eater.

He, of course, knew secrets about her as well. He knew that she hated the color of her hair with a passion. He knew that she secretly wanted to learn to play the violin, but could never afford lessons. He knew that she wanted to study in America after graduation or the war, whichever came first.

She wasn’t surprised when the war came first. It was bloody and devastating for both sides. She had heard through Hermione, who had heard from Parvati, who had heard from one of her Durmstrang friends, that Draco was indeed in with the Death Eaters, but no one knew exactly what he was doing.

But she knew. He was trying to stay alive.

Three long years, countless battles and more deaths than were necessary later, the war was finally over. Voldemort was defeated and Harry Potter was the shining hero of the wizarding world. He promptly married his lady love, Hermione Granger, a week after the final battle. Ginny was happy for them.

She and Harry had never really worked anyway.

It was fitting, really, that it rained on her first day of classes at the University of Delphi. She was given special admittance due to her involvement during the war, so she was finally able to fulfill her dream of studying in America.

Two months into her first semester, a package arrived at her front door via Muggle post. Inside was a Stradivarius violin, polished and nestled inside a beautiful leather case. There was a small note inside.

Wait for me.

Even without the note, Ginny knew who it was from.

Two years later, she celebrated her twenty-first birthday. Packages arrived via Fred and George, who had closed the shop up to come help her celebrate along with her roommates, two twin American witches by the name of Josie and Chris (which, they assured people, were short for Josephine and Christina).

That night, slightly tipsy from the bottles of wine consumed during dinner, Ginny slipped out onto the back porch of their little house. She could smell the rain in the distance, and the low roll of thunder called to her.

She spread her arms out wide as the raindrops started to fall. She let herself get lost in the memories that the rain always brought on. The smell of his cologne, the stormy gray color of his eyes, the silver blonde shimmer of his hair in the sunlight. All the little things that made her fall in love with him.

She felt a presence behind her. She didn’t need to look to make sure; she knew it was him. It was as if she had been waiting her whole life for this moment.

And as she leapt into his waiting arms, she knows why she loves the rain.