I used to love the rain. I loved the sound of the drops on the stone castle, or the way it made the sky all fuzzy, like when your eyes haven't quite adjusted from sleep. Rain calmed me.

But few people realize how similar rain sounds to leaky pipes; how similar the pitter patter of a storm can sound to the drip-drop of old plumbing. Rain no longer relieves my stress or calms my worries. Rain is the enemy. Rain keeps me up at night, terrified to sleep, clutching my blanket in hopes that a crimson comforter will be my comforter.

Sometimes I can trick myself into thinking it's the ocean. If it's a quiet drizzle, I imagine the waves are crashing on a rocky beach. If the wind howls softly, I think of birds fighting the wind to catch a fish from the ocean.

Thunder and lightning are terrifying. Crashing, pounding, flashes of light… It's a reminder of my darkest times.

I used to read with the curtains drawn around my bed, but that got old quicker than I care to admit. After a year, I tried my hand at drawing. I'd seen Dean make some magnificent doodles on his parchments, and so I purchased a few charcoal pieces and a sketch pad through an owl post service. I drew a quill first, then an oil lamp, before moving on to more serious subjects. I studied the paintings in the corridors and even spoke to the Fat Lady about her own portrait. I loved the idea of drawing people, so I went to work.

Each storm led me to the fireplace in the Common Room, testing my skills at recreating my family members from pictures. You learn things about people when you study them so closely; Percy's ears are too long for his face, George has one ear lobe completely attached to his head where the other isn't, and Dad's glasses are always slightly crooked. But even a Weasley can get bored of Weasley's, so I tried to go by memory of other people. I drew Professor McGonagall first, because her hair is easiest, in that tight bun. Professor Snape's nose was tricky, but in the end, his keen stare was easily captured with my charcoal. I struggled with Dumbledore's beard for two weeks before finally tucking the bottom half into his belt.

The list goes on, as I went through my family, teachers and immediate classmates. I bought two more sketch pads – one small enough to fit inside my bookbag for particularly boring classes – and continued to fill them up. My favorite Quidditch stars were really fun, then popular bands that come onto the wireless.

I bought three more sketch pads before going through a creative block. I carried my books with anger because they sat… empty. There was no inspiration when I needed it so desperately. That was…until I looked up during morning post. Owls were swooping low, dropping parcels and envelopes, screeching greetings to their familiars. A beautiful eagle owl flew gracefully over the professor's table before finding its owner at the Slytherin table.

As the owl perched itself onto Draco Malfoy's shoulder, his eyes gleaming with the tiniest hint of excitement and the morning light bouncing off of his platinum hair. It felt like a spark in my fingers. I gasped so loudly that I caught the attention of Evangeline Weiss sitting to my left.

I grabbed a muffin and raced out of the Great Hall, eager to feel the smooth charcoal beneath my fingertips, gliding it across the pad with purpose and passion.