TITLE: I USED TO LOVE THE RAIN.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; I merely love them so much that I've decided they're too awesome for men and therefore should be for each other.

Music: Kiss The Rain – Yiruma

Pairing: Hermione Granger & Fleur Delacour

This is AU, there are no magic involved, only two people falling helplessly in-love with one another. I guess I may also have to give a fair warning that this is… a very sad fic. I'm sorry, I don't like inflicting that kind of feeling on my favorite HP pairing but I just couldn't throw off this angsty feeling today.

~ o ~ o ~

I woke up to the relaxing drops of water pouring on my window pane. I slowly got up from my bed pushing the duvet to the side and walked over to the nearest window. I pushed the fabric to the side of the canvas and gazed outside. It was raining again. I saw blue piercing eyes staring right back at me from the reflection on my window. I closed my eyes, and let my mind float away.

~ o ~ o ~

I really used to love the rain, when I was a kid, my father used to play with me whenever it rained. He always ignored my mother's protest that we might get a cold if we stayed outside too much. My mother couldn't do anything, anyway. Because every time it rains, my father would play with me and he would grab my mom and dance with us while the rain pours.

I used to love the rain, when I was in high school, it would calm my nerves whenever I study. I always sat on that table right next to that really big window on our old library. The dimmed lights and continuous pour of the water from the skies, it's as if it were crying; it always relaxed me. Though my logical mind knows how the rain is formed, I've always believed it's somehow magical. It's magical to a point where it's just mysteriously beautiful. It marks the end of a sunny day, but it gives the beginning to a beautiful rainbow.

I loved the rain because of the calm it gives me, and that cold feathery touch it leaves on my skin. I hated the air conditioning on hot summer days. But whenever it rained, it just feels so relaxing. I would always prefer the natural way of cooling my body through water than man-made cold vapor. I've always slept in whenever it rains, I can't seem to get out of my bed, but at the same time I'm cut out in between because I wanted to see the scenery outside, with the rain washing everything clean.

I've always wanted to be a photographer, I was always so mesmerized by the beautiful moments a single photo can capture. It's always so enchanting, it's as if you can lock that exact memory on that single piece of paper forever, and you'll be able to go back to it every time you want. When my father bought me my first camera, the first picture I took was a droplet of the rain hanging from a rose petal on our garden. I was straining and crouching down in a very awkward position, I almost crushed some plants too. I'm glad I was small enough to do that, after I took the first picture, my mother found me and instantly asked me to go bathe. I didn't realize I had mud all over my clothes. I still have that photo to this day, I had it framed actually. But I've given the original copy away.

When I finally got into an art school, I specifically chose photography. I remember that time when a certain professor took us out to shoot. It was sunny that day, but right at the middle of our shoot, it started to rain. I was so ecstatic. It usually did not rain whenever we shoot; and this was my playground. I knew I was going to get a magnificent shot. All of my classmates went back to the shade of the building right next to our shooting place, unlike me; they did not like the rain. On the contrary, I however walked calmly further out, my clothes were drenched but that's okay, my camera is doing fine because I had specifically bought a special cover for it and for my bag because I loved shooting on the rain.

I was entranced by the view, the wind was blowing on gently, the pour was getting heavier but I didn't mind. I had no idea the forest could have been this beautiful, and so I walked on. I have probably taken about a hundred shots, flowers in the bloom, the swaying trees, and the water bouncing upon the ground. And then I saw a very peculiar creature, a butterfly was flying in the rain. I was mesmerized, it was colored in beautiful hues, and the black lines arched magnificently upon its body, etching the design onto the wings. It seemed to be playing on the rain, catching several droplets with its silky wings. I watched and followed it quietly, intent on being able to have a shot with it. After a few minutes, it finally stopped and landed itself upon a single white rose protruding from a wild bush. It was the perfect moment; I hurriedly changed my settings and fumbled with my shutter speed. I at least needed to take a few pictures to capture that moment. My heart was beating a little fast, a little afraid that I might miss the shot. I lowered my head to glance through my lens, a steady hand fumbling with the focus and the zoom. I decided I'll take a close-up picture first, I pushed the button several times, and my camera was making these little adorable clicking noises that I love so much. The feeling was very elating, I so badly want to take a look at the screen to see if I captured that moment, but I knew I had to take the shot a little bit more. Out of frustration, I sighed. And the butterfly suddenly fluttered its wings, about to take off. I was holding my breath, silently wishing that it would stay. And by the gods, was I happy that it did. I mentally cursed myself for acting so flustered that I almost ruined this special moment. And so I considerably calmed myself down and raised my camera to my eyes gain, I gazed through the lenses and it was this time that the most magical thing happened. Everything went on slow-motion.

As I was adjusting the view, I've only just found out that I was on a clearing. There was a little pond situated upon the left side of the clearing and there stood a lithe creature beside it. Upon the middle of the clearing, was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. From the zoomed view of my lens, that's where I saw her for the first time. To a normal person, the sight would have been very weird. A girl painting under the rain and only her canvas was covered in this small shade that she set up above it. But to me, it was… love at first sight.

Her blonde silvery hair had several shades in it, if you stare at it intently, you will see a gradient like pattern ending at the edge of her hair which was a darker color. Her skin was glowing upon the dimmed light the sky was providing, from my lens, I already knew that it would feel heavenly soft to the touch. She stood in a manner that evoked elegance, and her hands were poised delicately holding the brush, smudged colors of hue hung to her slender fingers, like beautiful tattoos. Her other hand was holding up her palette, the movement from the brush rounding every circle of the colors in the palette with her wrist was purely magical. And her face, her face contorted in pure concentration, a face of ethereal beauty, you might mistake her for an angel. Those lips were pouted in such a way it's childishly adorable and sensual at the same time; and finally those eyes… Those eyes in a perfect shade of blue, beautifully rounded, which sort of looked darker on the middle, they were intense. Those orbs were piercing, looking in my direction, an intense gaze with pure concentration. Wait, looking at me? What? I suddenly forgot the rain, I suddenly forgot the butterfly, I suddenly forgot everything when I realized she was looking at me. I felt so naked upon her stare, I felt so weak, but I felt that very familiar calmness that the rain has offered me, only this time it was more intense.

I so badly wanted to take a picture of her, with those paint-stained hands and the way she was looking at me. But I was caught red-handed; she'll probably think that I'm weird and rude. Trying to snap a picture of her, and so I made one of the hardest decisions of my life. It was such a pain letting go of that moment, but more importantly, I need to make an impression.

So I lowered my hands and dropped my camera, I had my strap over my shoulders and I let it hung there, swinging playfully beside my ribs. I took a careful step forward and a twig broke, rather loudly. I looked down to see the damage, and gazed up to see a hue fluttering wing. The butterfly I was so enchanted by flew away, disturbed by the sound I made. I lowered my gaze to the clearing only to see that she was frowning, so I curiously stepped into the clearing and found her looking at me, a playful glint upon her eyes.

"Oh my, you 'ave ruined my picture." The lovely creature said as she pouted, in the most melodious voice that I have ever heard. A slight tilt of French was barely audible, but the tone she used was neither low nor high, it was calm; as calm as the wind blowing on the little droplets falling restlessly from the sky. I soon realized she was waiting for an answer when she tilted her head in a way that I found so enticing. I had to summon what's left of my brain and had to look for my voice to speak.

"I-.. I-I… I'm…" The blonde giggled.

Damn it. I did not just bloody stutter. Honestly. I mentally berated myself and swallowed, a little harder than I intended.

"I'm really sorry about that, I did not mean to… I was just walking through the site to take a couple of shots and I found the fluttering butterfly and I was really entranced and so I took the shot but then I saw you through my lens and I got distracted and I…" I realized that I was blabbering, and she had put on this very amused face openly, not even minding if I would be offended or not.

I'm blabbering like a bloody love-struck teenager. Damn.

"And...?" She asked and put on a smile. Holy hell, she had the most perfect pearly set of teeth I have ever seen. Even my parents who were dentists would be impressed. I snapped free from my predicament and actually answered properly this time.

"I'm really sorry, I did not mean to… If I can make it up to you, I'll do anything." As I flashed a nervous smile. She was walking towards me, and she was about to approach a dangerously close proximity to my pulsing body, which is not good.

"Mmmm… Well yes, since you 'ave ruined a painting I needed for my portfolio…" She trailed off, but caught herself again. "But first… What is your name lost creature?" She asked.

"I… I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger." I spoke as I tried to look her in the eye, her blue piercing orbs were just so blinding. I'm afraid I would melt if I stare for too long.

She extended her right hand to me, weren't she supposed to be French? Where is that bloody kiss on the cheeks I was supposed to get? But oh well, I took it anyway. I'm not going to miss on a chance to hold her hand. I took it then, and it was the softest thing on earth, it fit my hands delicately, and it's as if the world was telling me that this is where I should be, forever.

"Fleur Delacour." She spoke as she shook my hand slightly, giving it a playful squeeze.

What a beautiful name. Almost as beautiful as you.

"Is this how you say hello in france?" I said, trying to make a conversation to keep her from noticing how I clung to her hand, trying desperately to distract her enough just to hold it a little longer. A little longer.

That same playful smile was poised upon her lips.

"No," she said, as she took a step closer to me. "…this is 'ow we say hello in france."

On that beautiful clearing, just right in the corner of the pond materialized the other end of the rainbow. A few rays of sunlight were peeking through the dim clouds, birds could be heard happily chirping, and a few droplets of rain falling from the trees to the ground.

As she took a step closer, and when I breathed her vanilla scent; that's where our lips first met.

That's where I first hated the rain, and loved it all the much more at the same time. It was raining when we first met, and the rain brought me to her. My angel; the love of my life…

I've had my own share of relationships before. I've had several boyfriends, in fact. I'm already twenty so that's not very shocking; what was shocking was how I was totally at ease with the idea of loving a woman, how I never questioned myself when I saw her and realized that she's all I need. I wouldn't say I find myself really attractive, but I'm not half bad. I do have an unruly curly hair, ordinary brown eyes, ordinary skin complexion and ordinary shape. Neither were too much or less than normal. My toned body was built over the years of shooting pictures on mountains, requiring me to go hiking at hours at a time; I also do enjoy taking long walks with my parents whenever I get the chance to. I am that kind of person who's always confident with herself, though I don't brag.

But why do I feel so inferior over her? Her lips moving upon mine made me feel that I belonged to her, that I submitted everything to her; that I was made for her and she was made for me. And I hated the rain for it, but I loved it at the same time. I envied the rain because it was all over her. The way the water clung to her hair, and to her body, to her eyelashes and to the corners of her mouth. I was the one who was supposed to be all over her, because she is mine. Just as much as I am hers; But I loved the rain, I loved it for bringing me here, for bringing me to her.

That's how Fleur and I met, and that's where our story began.

We were the perfect couple; we both enjoy the rain so much. I've learned that she was an exchange student from France, and that she was majoring on fine arts and wanted to explore England. After a few months of trying to out-do each other to woo ourselves into each other's hearts, she finally moved with me to my little home just across the university. We both preferred coffee over tea, and we have both agreed that a rainy day is a day meant for cuddling and/or a day made for playing and dancing outside the garden. I remember a day once, that I was so torn if I would want to just cuddle inside of our room on that rainy day, or play tag with her outside. She laughed on my face, dragged me outside to the rain, sat on the last step of our porch and gathered me close. We cuddled on the rain. I've never felt happier.

We completed each other in many ways. I used to play piano when I was little, and she played the violin. We both loved classical music, anything that pertains to art. We would play musical pieces together, or compose new ones to our heart's contents. She's my personal critique, and I am hers, too. Her talent on speed painting was amazing, whenever she flicks the brush upon her left hand; it was done with so much accuracy you can only find in a talented artist. On that faithful day that we met, I asked to look at the one she was painting with the butterflies and offered to show her the developed pictures of the shot I took so she can finish her work. She refused my offer and asked me instead to model for her next painting. I really wanted to see that painting though, when we first met. So on my 21st birthday, when she asked what I wanted, I told her I wanted to see that painting. She finally relented.

She sat across me with that canvas covered with a white cloth on her right hand. She was blushing profusely, she held the canvas and placed it flat carefully on the table and pushed the fabric away. I was grinning very widely when I finally saw it. She was prettily blushing, tilted on a different direction not wanting to look at me, her elbow on the table and her left hand covering her mouth.

It was the butterfly's picture, alright. But the butterfly was already done, what she did not finish capturing was my button-up shirt clad self, drenched wet and holding a camera pointing at her and the butterfly's direction. I smiled knowingly and thanked her that night. Up until now, I still have that unfinished painting on my wall. My friends called me a masochist.

I loved taking pictures of her, specially her eyes. Every single photo was a different story told; it never ceased to amaze me how I can capture unique moments only to find more on the next picture. She's simply breathtaking. She was kind, and sweet, and very caring and straightforward; something that I lacked myself. She's really open to display her affection of someone, and the exact opposite too. She would never even blink and if she decides to tell you that you are not to her liking.

So we are like, the complete opposite, and the complete copy of each other. Confusing? Probably; for you, yes; for me, no. It's perfect.

And it's not just that, my family adored her. My friends did too, I had a row with one of my best friends for a good amount of time before he finally accepted us, but that was it. My parents would not care much if she was a woman, or if I was dating another person of my own sex, what they cared for was that I was happy. And so I was, I felt completely contented.

I'm telling you now, being able to fall asleep next to her, and waking up to her lovely blue eyes staring down at me, with her soft 'good morning, my love' in that French purr of hers; It was pure bliss. That was something I could not lose, something I'd work really hard for. So I studied harder, I was motivated in many ways that people could tell that I was 'doing it for Fleur'; and I did it for her, really.

As the exchange program was nearing to the end, my heart was breaking. I actually had enough money for a ticket to France. But I needed a year more to finish my actual degree. It was one of the hardest decisions I needed to make. I needed to be able to provide us both, but I can't do that without a degree. But I need her with me at the same time. I silently cried that whole night, while she was asleep in my arms. The drive to the airport was quiet. We promised to call each other. Watching her pulling her luggage through the departure area broke my heart into little pieces. If it were not for her making me promise that I would finish my studies, I would have followed her to that room.

I cried my heart out that night, my friends attempted to comfort me, and they told me that she would be back soon. But everything was uncertain. Each corner of my home reminded me of her, of us. I even wore her shirt to sleep and cried on her pillow. I still went to school every day, but I was a walking corpse.

On the third day after she left, it rained. I walked down to my porch and sat on the last step. I let the rain wash over me and cursed the world, why, why this had to happen. I hugged myself and dropped my head on my knees, letting my tears fall and mix with the raindrops. I formed a smiling image of her upon my brain, and as I did so I got a sniff of her scent mixing in with the smell of the rain. I chuckled, unbelievably so while crying. Shite, I'm so desperate I can even smell her now. I laughed bitterly at myself, that's where I failed to notice that a lithe figure was standing beside me. The figure sat herself and cuddled me from behind, wrapping her slender arms upon my mid-section. I froze but cried harder.

"You're back. You came back for me." I spoke, in between sobs.

She did not say anything but she helped me stood up, and led me to the middle of our small garden. We were standing there in the middle of the rain; I stood there, speechless and just taking in her beauty. Her face was unbelievably calm, she flashed me that warm smile, and I had to smile back.

And this is probably one of those moments in the movies that every girl anticipates, that moment where the princess' knight in shining armor kneels down, presents a ring and asks her hand for a happy forever and after. But my knight was more like an angel, she was wearing this pretty white dress, and she knelt down. She procured a velvet box held it in front of me and opened it. It was the most unusual engagement ring, but then again, we were the most unusual couple. It was a silver ring, but instead of the usual diamond rings, a miniature version of my first camera stood on top of the ring and on the part where the opening of the lens should be found, was adorned by a circular blue stone, perfectly matching the hue of her eyes. And in the most sincere voice, where the only thing I could hear was the faint sound of the rain, she finally asked me.

"Will you marry me and be mine forever?" There was a glint of nervousness in her eyes, I laughed inwardly. As if I would say no.

I nodded; quite fervently I was afraid the sudden jerk of my muscles would make my neck fall off. She smiled sweetly and slid the ring on my finger, it fit perfectly. And when she was about to stand, that's where I jumped her. I flung myself to her body, and we were cast unbalance. We laughed as we rolled upon the wet grass, bodies entwining in a sweet embrace. I gave her the sweetest kiss I could manage, finally letting the rain wash the last of my tears.

That's where our friends, my family and her family found us. I lifted my gaze to them; my mother was hugging my father and was obviously crying. And then I returned my gaze to her, asking for explanations.

"I needed to pick up the ring myself from France, it would not 'ave been special if I just 'ad it delivered." She smiled wickedly. "…Ah yes, they all knew. I also brought my family with me since I was sure you were not going to say no." She added as an afterthought.

"You're evil." Was all I managed to say before I buried myself into her embrace, quite contentedly if I may say so myself.

That's where I hated the rain even more, but loved it more nonetheless. I felt that the rain was Fleur's accomplice. Making me feel really bad and putting me down before lifting me up to heights I cannot imagine I would reach. I hated it for making me think that all of this was over, but I loved it for bringing her back to me, again; for witnessing something that I would remember and treasure for the rest of my life. I hated the rain, but I loved it all the more.

Her family was much like her, sweet, caring, but straightforward. Fleur told me they were very much willing to wait after my graduation before we can get wed. Her family bought a home not far from where I lived. But of course Fleur chose to stay with me; she also mentioned she will be finishing her degree here so that we would be able to graduate together. After a year of pure bliss with my loved ones, I and Fleur graduated with flying colors; both receiving honors and top of our classes. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. Jobs went after us, but we refused to go and work just yet—we needed to get married first. I needed us to get married first.

And that magical day arrived; there we stood in that same clearing where we first met, beneath the already dimming sky, with our simple wedding dress, the lot of our family and friends. That was where we both said our 'I do'—to a life together, for better or for worse, we will embrace it with open arms, simply because we are together.

I was about to kiss her but a few droplets of rain fell from the sky and onto Fleur's lips. How I hated the rain, but loved it even more. It took the kiss I was supposed to have on that very special day. But I loved it because it played witness again, to this forever we are about to swear our hearts into. So I shrugged it off and sealed our promises with a kiss. It was pure bliss, and I couldn't imagine being happier than that; finally knowing that we belong to each other; and each other alone.

I've always wanted to see the world, see the wonders it would offer, see everything that I haven't seen before and Fleur was more than happy to oblige. So we took everything we've saved, told our families about the plan and flew in planes and sailed upon ships on high seas. Continent by continent we travelled; explored the great wonders of nature and the urban life; traditions and cultures of every country. It was the happiest seven months of our lives; I would not even think of exchanging it for anything. The tour did wonders for us; by the time we came back we were just ready to put up an exhibit. Many people loved my photos and adored Fleur's paintings. We watched happily, hand in hand the fruits of our passion for our pursued art.

We sure did have our own little petty fights here and there like any other normal relationships, but the last fight we had was the worse. Harry, my best friend was an eye specialist. A few months after our tour, I was worried because my eyesight would frequently go blurry, and I had to rub my eyes a couple of times before it becomes clear again. So when we arrived, I took that chance to see him and get a thorough check up. He called me up a few days later and immediately wanted me on his lab.

"So what do I have Harry?" I fidgeted nervously upon my seat. He was giving me this solemn look every doctor gives to a dying patient. "And stop looking at me it's as if I'm going to die."

He sighed and spoke. "Of course… You're not, but this might brreak your heart 'Mione." I did not answer and kept a straight face, so he took it as a cue to say more.

"Your retina is the portion of the eye that is light-sensitive, meaning it receives the light signals and sends them through the optic nerve to the brain where your vision is processed. The retina consists of rods and cones which are photoreceptors that absorb light… And when the rods and cones are not functioning properly, vision is affected. I believe you have a disease called the cone-rod dystrophy which is a progressive disease in which the rods and cones deteriorate over time. This inherited disease decreases visual acuity, affects peripheral vision and…" He trailed off as I cut his little speech.

"Harry, I graduated from a bloody art school, I did great but I do not understand what you're trying to say."

He sighed at that, stood up from behind his desk and took the chair in front of me. He held both of my hands in his and spoke in a soft voice.

"Hermione, I'm afraid you might be going blind."

I closed my eyes and let a tear drop fall.

"Is there any cure at all?" I whispered in a shaky breathe.

"There is currently none, but we can decrease the progression of the disease by taking proper care of your eyes, shielding it from bright lights and the likes."

And that's where I broke apart. I sobbed into his shoulder, and he hugged me tightly like any best friend would do. There were tears upon his eyes as well, which made me feel worse because I was making my loved ones cry. I wasn't just crying for myself, I was crying for my passion. Somehow, I knew that I had to choose between taking pictures and having to take care of myself. My camera flash, my darkroom, everything. I was crying because I knew, soon enough I would have to stop doing shoots. I would have to stop looking at Fleur through my lenses—and that was really painful for me. Harry, true to his words, the news indeed broke my heart.

I tried to hide the truth from Fleur, she would only worry, and I would hate it to be treated like a sick person when I'm still actually okay. Harry did tell me that my disease had just started, so he thinks that I would still have a few years. But eventually she noticed that I started to lessen my shoots, I wore protective glasses all the time and did not develop anymore photos. She tried to ask me, but I did not succumb. I knew I had to tell her soon, but she found out before me. She harassed Harry until he gave in, I could not blame the man. My wife was a formidable woman.

And that's where we actually fought for the first time. Bitter words were thrown into the air, clichéd speeches such as not trusting each other were drawn to the table. I knew we should not be fighting, but I had my doubts. Would she want to live with a blind woman? Maybe it was better this way. Maybe we could fight and she could leave me and find a better and able partner in life. I thought I was being heroic, but soon realized that I was being selfish.

Fleur loved me unconditionally, weren't being on the same gender has proven enough? She was the first to drop the strong act and begged me.

"Si'l vous plait, mon amour. I'm begging you, stop resisting and let me just kiss you." She sobbed from across the room. I snapped back from reality. This was our life together; I should share whatever I had. I doubted Fleur, and I felt bad for that. I should have known her better than that. So I closed the distance, pulled her close and kissed her full on the mouth. I made love to her that night while the rain was pouring angrily outside our home, and it was just full of raw passion and sincerity from her part, that I've forgotten all my doubts when I woke up to her loving whispers in the next morning.

Fleur was patient with me; she would take care of me properly. Remind me to take my medicines, completely avoided letting me into the full blast of the sun and gave me stern looks whenever I took pictures or tried to ask permission to use my darkroom. I've never felt so much love and dedication before. The knowledge that I might soon be blind was eating me, but having Fleur there as my rock was all it took for me to be the same person I am. She developed this hobby of reading medicine books and calling specialists from all over the world, dead-set on looking for a cure. Though I advised her not to, my woman had a stubborn streak, and I knew better than to push on.

Several years passed, and my eyesight was getting worse. Everything was starting to get dark, and I was so scared. Every night, while Fleur slept in my arms, I studied her face with great care. I valiantly tried to memorize and re-memorize every inch of her face, afraid of losing the complete sight to be able to see her beauty, her perfection. She was literally tattooed on my mind.

On our third anniversary, I decided to do something for her. It was still early morning when I started setting up that place. The place where we first met and where we vowed with our hearts to belong to each other forever… I made myself a mini-exhibit, with most of my shots of her, the largest one being a close-up photo of her piercingly blue eyes, the one I took when we stood together atop the Grand Canyon on a summer afternoon just before the sunset. I covered the trees with twinkling lights and set-up a dinner table amidst the clearing. We had a very romantic dinner, and to say that she was pleased was an understatement. We danced under the moon and the stars, holding each other gently and swaying to our favorite classical piece.

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, the rain poured. Fleur smiled at me as she gathered me closer and held me tightly, and then I kissed her, and one kiss led to another, and then to another. And right there and then, she made love to me in the gentle pour of the rain. And I hated the rain for that, for being able to coat itself completely upon my lover's naked form, for being able to see her in her passion driven self, but I loved all of it at the same time. I love the cold it provided in contrast to our heat, and the way it made me feel comfortable with its soft gushing sounds. After our bodies were spent, we lay there still for a few minutes and just listened to each other's breathing. We then, finally decided to get dressed, pack up and drive home.

The drive home was quiet, but we heard the pour of the rain getting stronger, and the wind was billowing rather ravenously upon the trees. Fleur of course, was the one driving.

"Do you think it might be wiser to turn around and find the nearest 'otel we could rest for the night to?" Fleur asked a few moments later while she decreased her speed at 20, obviously worried.

"We're almost there anyway," I grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Why don't we just stop the car on the road and wait for the rain to cease?" I reasoned. I was excited because Fleur told me she had a surprise for me at home, and there's just no waiting when it comes to my wife's surprises.

"Oh, you're just excited because of my surprise, mmm?" She gave me a playful shove, clearly able to read my eyes.

I nodded sheepishly as she parked the car beside the road. As I was about to speak, I saw her eyes grow big with worry.

She flung her hands around me protectively—and then it happened.

I couldn't remember much really, the last I heard was my wife's sharp gasp, the billowing winds screaming at us, the sound of the harsh drop of rainfall, a loud metallic grazing sound, the blinding white light, that soft familiar body covering my own and that sharp sting of pain.

"Good morning, my love… Je t'aime." I heard from the midst of a blinding white light. And that's when I woke up, it was all very dark. My heart was beating very fast, every muscle in my body is pulsing and aching badly, I tried to remember what happened before I was unconscious, and that's when it hit me.

A car slid through the wet pavement and crashed into ours and Fleur… Fleur protected my body from the crash. Where is she? My throat felt too dry to speak. So I took a painful gulp, tried to calm myself down and realized that there were bandages over my eyes, and probably all over my body too. I tried to move, and somebody perked up beside me.

"Fleur, is that you?" I spoke in a hoarse voice, but a hopeful tone.

I felt a warm hand touch mine, it was definitely not Fleurs. I felt my heart sunk.

"'Mione…" It was Harry, he whispered softly.

"Harry, where is Fleur? Is she alright? What happened?" I asked consecutively, not even letting him finish speaking.

"Thank heavens you're alright." He spoke, ignoring my questions.

"Harry James Potter, answer me right now. Where is my wife?" I said, in the most threatening tone I could manage at that state.

I felt him squeeze my hand and kiss the back of it lightly.

"F-Fleur… She… She's gone love… It was raining so hard that night that they weren't able to find your car in the right time, she suffered internal hemorrhage… She lost too much blood already when they were able to take both of you to the hospital." He spoke in a shaky tone, holding my hands tightly.

My world fell apart. My tears flowed down unceremoniously from my eyes. At some point, I heard myself screaming, I heard myself calling her name repeatedly, and I think I heard my heart into pieces. I felt Harry pull me up into an embrace, I also heard Gabrielle speaking in soft French words somewhere at the scene, my mother and father calling out my name and telling me that everything would be fine, but I can't just distract myself from that single fact, the fact that the love of my life is gone, the reason for living, the person whom I gave half of my heart to, the person whom I shared my whole being with. I would have rather died with her.

I was in a coma for three months; they said they were beginning to be afraid that I would not have woken up forever. Fleur was gone and her body has been cremated, a wish she asked of her family. Gabrielle asked me to be strong, because Fleur left something very important. I asked what it was, be she told me that I would know in a week's time.

A week full of sorrow pain and self-hatred, Harry told me that they would be removing the bandages cast over my body. On that whole duration, I never even dared ask if I was blind. I did not care, I would rather not see all the memories we have created.

Harry led me to a room, I can walk now, but my body was still aching. I knew it was raining, I could hear the once nerve-soothing sound that I was so much used to.

"Ready?" He tried in a cheerful tone. I only nodded, he probably frowned at that. Everyone else was there too. And then I felt him fumble around my head, the ripping sounds of the bandage, and then slowly, light was starting to materialize before my eyelids. Uhg. I thought forlornly, so I'm not blind. And then the bandage was completely free from my eyes, all I had left to do was to open them.

"Open your eyes slowly, please. If it hurts try to blink a few times." Harry said in a pleading tone. I sighed and did what he asked.

It was painful; it was like sleeping for a lot of hours and waking up to a blinding light. My vision was blurred, and I had to blink several times to focus. It was weirdly clear, because I was looking down, I saw the half of my body, still covered in bandages, and then my hands, a few cuts were visible. I slowly looked up, and to say that I was shocked was the understatement of the century.

I froze upon my gaze, because what I saw were piercingly blue orbs staring right back at my face. I was facing a mirror, and my eyes, they weren't mine. They were my wife's. Realization dawned upon me, and I saw the reflection of my Family, Fleur's family and Harry upon my back. They were all wearing similar faces, of relief and sadness.

Harry explained to me that after Fleur discovered that I was sick, she asked him to transfer her eyes to mine if ever she died first. But I wasn't really listening.

This is what she left me, her eyes which I have loved so much. I stared right back at me in the mirror, and I saw that it was brimming with tears, and then they flowed down, much like the rain outside that building.

And that's when I hated the rain and never loved it again, it took her away from me; but at the same time it was an awful reminder of our sweet memories together, the most important moments of my life was etched in every droplet of water falling from the skies. The rain poured harder that day, trying to beat the tears falling upon her… I mean my eyes.

~ o ~ o ~

A sharp ring from my phone broke my thoughts. I opened my eyes only to see those blue orbs upon my reflection. I let out a shaky breathe and grabbed the device upon my bedside with a shaky hand, it was Gabrielle's voice.

"Bonjour 'Ermione."

"H-hello Gabby." I spoke in a shaky breathe.

"You're crying again, aren't you?"

"Well… Yes."

I heard her sigh deeply. I just couldn't help it.

"I am with mother in the car right now, would you like me to pick you up so we can go together?"

"No Gabby, It's okay. I'll just drive there myself, thank you."

"Alright, are you sure you will be okay?"

"Of course, I will."

"Okay, we'll see you in the cemetery then; mother says to take care 'Ermione."

And I heard a click indicating the line was cut off. I placed the device back on the table.

It's her third death anniversary. I sighed deeply, wiped my tears off and gazed out of the window again. It's been three years since she died, three years of surviving, not living. Three years of a bittersweet remembering of the greatest love of my life, three years of staring back into her eyes that I now wore on mine. The sky was starting to clear out now, and I traced the last droplet of morning rain on the glass of my window.

I used to love the rain.

~ o ~ o ~

A/N: Wow, a pretty long one-shot! So how was that? I was dying inside while writing those last parts and the climax, but I guess I just wanted to share some bits of my feelings. It was raining and I couldn't help myself but write. I only did this today—I know, I was supposed to be writing the next chapter for Lock & Key but I couldn't stop myself from actually finishing this before I go to bed! Hahaha.

I just imagine their love would be this intense, and death really does happen. I guess I'm feeling this way because a professor died so unexpectedly. We went to her wake yesterday; she died before leaving her husband a precious gift, a 2-month old baby. She taught us one subject when I was on my 2nd year and I haven't even graduated yet and she's gone. We loved her dearly.

I promise to get back on writing L&K tomorrow morning. Hopefully, I'll be able to upload a new chapter in less than a week. Also, forgive me for errors on this one. No beta of course, I just wanted to release before I go to sleep. Like, throw off my thoughts once and for all, heh.

So what do you think about that? Acckk, awfully long author note. Hit the review button and share your thoughts, I'd love to hear them.