A/N: I've had writers block for the longest time, and so I'm proud to get out of it with this fic.

The Song is called "Bring On The Rain" and it is by Jo Dee Messina

Bring On The Rain

Another day has almost come and gone

Can't imagine what else could wrong

Sometimes I'd like to hide away somewhere and lock the door

A single battle lost but not the war ('cause)

~*~

The ginger haired boy leaned against the window pane, his ice blue eyes watching the droplets of water make tiny rivers,streaming down the cool glass. He yawned and stretched from his position, listening to the cracking of various joints mixed together with the pouring rain. He checked the clock, 'Half-past six.'he mused. He opened his mouth and let out another yawn,stretching out his full frame on the couch. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the couch, feeling the cold wooden floor beneath his warm socks. He slowly stood up, trying not to become dizzy from sitting up so fast, but to no avail. He shook his head, and his perfect hair quickly became mussed and fell out of place. He walked to the kitchen of his tiny one bedroom flat in Baltham, a small suburb of London. Just far enough from his family to have his privacy, and close enough to apparate to work, or to any covienient spot to think and do his work.

~*~

Tomorrow's another day

And I'm thirsty anyway

So bring on the rain

~*~

He quickly began to prepare a light supper, not by magic, but by hand.

He had become a quite excellent chef, living away from home for those three years. Since the Ministry wasn't't a fufilling enough job, he had enrolled in Muggle cooking classes, and excelled more in this field, than any other he had been in, Hogwarts included. As of now, he was an assistant chef in one of Diagon Alley's most prominent restruants, Rose De Fanage, which roughly translates to 'The Wilting Rose'.

Cooking became an escape for him. It solved his problems, albeit it for a short time. It took him away, spiritually and mentally. It left the grief of the past couple years in the past. It was his form of meditation, his spiritual cleansing.

~*~

It's almost like the hard times circle 'round

A couple drops and they all start coming down

Yeah, I might feel defeated,

I might hang my head

I might be barely breathing - but I'm not dead

~*~

His eyes glanced around the room as he was setting the table for one. They fell on a calendar. October 31st. It was exactly three years since the day Voldemort took the lives of his youngest brother, Ron, Harry Potter, and his love, Hermione Granger. His knees became slightly weak as his mind was overflowed by memories of them. Mainly her. Her scent, her touch, the sound of her laughter, all came flowing back in a rushing torrent of emotion. He sat down on the chair, forgetting his surroundings and got pulled back into the exact minute of her last breath on this world.

~*~

Tomorrow's another day

And I'm thirsty anyway

So bring on the rain

~*~

She was lying in the grass, her hair spread around her, framing her pale face. Her angelic features shown out more in the moonlight than ever before. The body of Harry Potter was lying only fifteen feet away, having the 'Killing Curse' inflicted on him. His brother was next to her, where he was dying, not from magic, but from extensive internal injuries.

He ran towards them, barely batting an eye at the other witches and wizards who apparated on the scene. He dropped on his knees when he saw her up close, her beauty magnified by one-hundred. He gathered her in his arms, covering her face with kisses and rocking her gently. She opened her eyes and gazed at his face. She moved her mouth, yet no words came out. She tried again and all that came out was a whisper. He leaned down to hear her, as she spoke her final words. "Live life to the fullest for the future is scarce." She closed her eyes one final time and took her last breath. He felt her body spasm, and then it was still.

~*~

I'm not gonna let it get me down

I'm not gonna cry

And I'm not gonna lose any sleep tonight

So bring on the rain

~*~

He was jerked out of his memory by the smell of something burning. He quickly jumped up and turned off the stove. He immediately put the pan in the sink and turned on the water. Once the sink was ¾ full, he retired back to the living room, pausing to grab a handful of pretzels before returning to the couch once more. He munched on the pretzels and stared out into the rain. Percy Weasley-The shell of the man he once was.

The End

A/N: Well, I'm quite proud of it. Please be a responsible reader, review!