Harry sat at the base of a tree with a thick jacket wrapped around him. The early rays of pre-dawn light were just beginning to seep through the dense snow clouds. It was bitingly cold, even inside the tent. Winter was coming down with full force against the weary travellers. It has been a while since Ron had left, about a fortnight or more. Hermione had stopped crying a few days ago, much to Harry's pleasure. The mood was still dismal, accentuated by the unyielding frost.

Harry got up, wincing at the pain of his stiff joints. He opened the flap of the tent and walked carefully inside. The fire was beginning to die down in the hearth so the cold did not subside. Hermione was lying on her bunk with both hers and Harry's blankets on. Quietly, Harry moved closer to the bunk, hoping that she would be awake so that he could retrieve his blankets and get a couple more hours of sleep.

Harry reached her bunk and craned his neck to see her face. Hermione was resting peacefully, her lips open slightly, breathing evenly. Hermione's face was so perfectly calm, the absolute picture of tranquillity.

She looks so beautiful. Harry thought to his surprise. He felt his cheeks redden and banished it from his mind. There were more important things to worry about.

I guess sleep is out of the question then.

He decided to build up the fire again. Harry hefted the large logs from the store at the side of the tent. Since the beginning of the year he had shed the gangly awkward physique and gained a defined, muscular one. Striking a match, he held it to the bed of kindling and blew on the new flame. After a bit of coaxing the fire was crackling merrily. The warmth was ecstacy on Harry's near frostbitten fingers and he lingered there for a while until feeling had returned to them.

Hermione awoke to the smell of some sort of meat cooking. It was heavenly. Hermione could not remember the last time she had eaten a proper meal, it had been mainly nuts and fruits collected from the forest, along with the occasional bowl of bland oatmeal that they found in the kitchen cupboard.

Hermione got up and wrapped a blanket around herself. She walked into the main room to find Harry crouched at the hearth, turning a spit that appeared have a rabbit speared on it.

'Look what I found,' Harry said with a hint of enthusiasm sparkling in his eyes.

'Oh Harry it smells delicious!' said Hermione.

'Yeah it was grazing on the patch of uncovered grass over there so I seized the opportunity!' he added with a laugh.

Harry served up the meat and gave it to Hermione. She picked up a morsel, excusing the heat and put it in her mouth. Much needed substance and the surprising skill of which it was cooked made for a satisfying meal.

'You have a real talent for this Harry.' Hermione said with a mouth full of food. She hadn't eaten a good meal in a while so manners were excused for the moment.

'Well I was the Dursley's private chef for the first twelve or so years of my life I required at least a little skill to avoid a beating!' They both laughed comfortably for the first time in a while.

Even with Ron there, the relationship had been as icy as the frigid winter gripping them. Harry noted that this was the first morning Hermione had woken up without crying.

That night Harry dreamt. In the dream Hermione was atop a magnificent stag, dressed in a flowing white dress, her hair being blown back by some invisible wind. She beckoned to him and unable to disobey Harry walked to her, hypnotised.

When he reached her side, she gracefully dismounted and moved close to him. Closing her eyes delicately, their lips met. Abruptly, it was over. She was now talking to him in a very rushed manner.

'Harry wake up! Harry!' He was being shaken.

'Harry quickly, there are Death Eaters in the forest!' Unable to shake the dream, Harry followed in a daze.

Emerging from his stupor a sudden panic gripped Harry and he drew his wand.

'Where were they?' He said, eyes darting about like a startled animal.

'I don't know,' Hermione replied 'I heard yelling and one of them fired the Killing Curse.'

Harry gave a shiver that was part cold, part pure fear.