Disclaimer: I own NOTHING, but the plot!

A/N: Today I found out that the guy I've been with was in love with someone else. I was in a lousy mood and this is what came out. I hope you enjoy!

Rainy days and Mondays

Talking to myself and feeling old

sometimes I'd like to quit,

nothing ever seems to fit.

Hanguing around,

nothing to do but frown,

rainy days and Mondays

always get me down...

When it rains, all sound seems to fade away but for the tiny waterdrops slashing all over the pavement.

When it rains, Harry wants to go out and spin under the downpour with his arms stretched wide open, like they did in the old films that aunt Petunia used to watch. He wants to feel his face wet and his eyelashes stiking one to another, like they do when he cries somewhere along the night, when his scar hurts so bad that he wants to scratch it out of his face.

Now it is raining, but all Harry is allowed to do is watch the rain fall from behind his window in number 12 Grimmauld Place. Someone knocks softly on the door but he is so enthralled in the intrincate patterns that dust and water draw on the glass that he starts and turns around, his heart racing as if he'd run a marathon. It's Tonks.

She enters the room hesitantly and Harry feels a thrill of anticipation; like he knows something is going to happen; like he wants something to happen, but he doesn't know what.

She is pale and her hair is a tad darker than usually. Harry wonders if her skin is as cold as it looks. He wonders it all the time, especially when she comes back late at night after a mission, shivering and embracing herself, and Remus puts his hand to her cheek and holds her close to his chest while Harry sits on the sofa pretending he doesn't care, pretending he doesn't feel the pang of jealousy deep down in the pit of his stomach.

"Are you ok?" she asks, more out of amusement than concern, because he's been staring at her for longer than what's polite and has not said hello at all.

"'m fine." is the muttered reply. You look cold, he wants to say, but he's already halfway to where she's sitting and her body heat surrounds him, suffocates him, making his skin prickle. The mattress creaks where he joins her.

Harry has always been at a loss of words around girls -except Hemione, that is. He spends too much time searching for the right thing to say, and usually ends up saying something stupid like:

"Looks like it's going to rain all night again."

"Yeah..." she breathes more than says, and that's when he knows something is wrong. And so he asks.

Tonks seems to find the scarlet rug very interesting all of a sudden, and just when Harry starts to think she's become mute, she takes a deep breath and murmurs:

"Remus has gone on a mission." Harry doesn't know quite what to say to that, so he plays to count the jealousy dots that are blurring his vision. "He has gone on a very dangerous mission."

There's a long pause where she starts to cry, and Harry is horribly reminded of Cho Chang. Maybe that is where is phobia of crying girls spurts from. Maybe he should kiss Tonks now that he knows she's not crying because of him.

"He'll be fine." he says instead, and it seems to have worked better than the kiss because her hand reaches out for his, making him feverish with sudden want.

"He may not," she answers, "and what then?" Harry looks down at their entwined hands and wonders; and he's fed up with it because he's always questioning and wondering, and he wants this too much, and maybe it wouldn't be that bad if Remus never came back in the morning... now, that was a horrible thing to wish... but he must have been to caught up in his own mental battle, because all of a sudden he's lying down on the bed and Tonks hand is now roaming under his shirt.

"Do you want this?" He hears her ask, or maybe that was just his mind.

"Yes..." he croaks, his voice breaking under the pressure around his heart.

Tonks kisses him fully on the lips, slowly and painfully unaware of the salty taste of her tears. Harry gets a strong feeling of déjà vú. He kisses her back inexpertly, and now that her tongue has invaded him, the taste is stronger and he wants to scream, because his experiencies with girls always involve crying, sorrow, and love for another man that is not him. His hands find her breasts and hers the zipper of his jeans, and he couldn't care less of what's right or wrong.

All sound has faded away but for their ragged breathing and the skin against skin, and he knows this is nothing; he knows this will kill him in the morning when Remus comes back, but he doesn't care because outside it is raining, and Tonks kisses are like water droplets on his face.

A/N: Love it? Hate it? I'd love some feedback, pleaaaseee!