Like A Memory It Falls

Prologue

A/N: Hermione's POV. Post-DH. Hermione considers how rain has touched her life. Surrounds "Kathy's Song" performed by Eva Cassidy. Idea for the format given by Wishing Only Wounds The Heart's story, "Just For This Moment". If you like the Avatar, I recommend her. Also fondly called the "Rain Stories".

A/N 2: Another story of my over-analysis tendencies. This story was supposed to be a one-shot from HBP. Then I thought about it and said to myself, "But that line reminds me of DH." And then I said, "Well, it could be a three-shot for the three verses." And it just evolved/exploded from there. You see, my mind works in odd ways. So, here you go. A nice new chapter fic to distract me from everything else I should finish. Sorry, guys. This story encompasses many one-shots I've been wanting to write. I actually have an entire page of story ideas and another entire page of lines to work around. Oh, and the entire page of songfic ideas. So this may take a while. Just like all the rest of my chaptered fics. Sorry again. Motivation helps sometimes, like reviews. (Although, other times it just makes me feel guilty.)

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I hear the drizzle of the rain.

As she reads in Ron's chair, silence of the empty house is broken. The sound of streaming water careening from down the roof reaches Hermione's ears. She closes her eyes and absorbs the comforting sound. Rain.

Like a memory it falls, soft and warm, continuing, tapping on my roof and walls.

The memories of rain in her life rush through her head, like her life flashing before her eyes. All the times rain has held a part in her life, from birth to now, come to mind, and she smiles. It's always been there. The soft rhythm was always her call, a signal of humming life.

My mind's distracted and confused. My thoughts are many miles away. They lie with you while you're asleep, kiss you when you start the day.

As the times it called her comes to mind, the rhythm slips away. Her thoughts travel to the one to whom the rain often called her. She lingers on Ron, away at Auror training. Seeking out the clock over the mantle, she finds it is eleven o'clock. He'll be dead asleep by now. She habitually finds herself thinking about him and vaguely hopes he feels her pondering him.

And as I watch the drops of rain weave their weary paths and die, I know that I am like the rain. There, but for the grace of you, go I.

Her eyes drift to the window, where a rain drop was sliding down, racing as it joined with another. They were free-falling as one, madly speeding on the glass into oblivion. Maybe that was one reason she identified rain with Ron and herself. Falling was something she only wanted to do with him. Always with him.

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Next chapter: First memories and silly Mummy.