Morning found Hermione to fast for her liking. Groaning at the intrusive light she shifted away from it, and tried desperately to fall back asleep. When she slept she could avoid him, in her dreams he wasn't always there. She remembered the night before, and sighed, even during her sleep she couldn't avoid the thought of him forever, couldn't avoid the pain That dreaded pain that dug, stung and clawed her from the inside. She closed her eyes, and pictured herself far away. Far, far away, some place where she wouldn't hurt, a place where her heart could rest, where her mind didn't think of the past and what could have been. A brief tapping noise interrupted her thoughts, groaning in defeat she threw the blankets off herself and began walking towards the kitchen, where she observed a small brown bird flying away from her window. Smiling she sat down, it had been a young bird as far as she could tell, maybe it had just learned to fly. She rested her head in her hands, trying to regain her strength, her balance. "That was Sarah McLachlan with "I will remember you," now for you lovers out there, this one goes out to you." She laughed bitterly at her thought, he was the only man she heard every morning and every night before she went to sleep for the past few years. How pathetic. She looked down at her hands, looked at her small humble kitchen, and felt alone. Felt a chill of sadness touch her down to her soul. She tried to shake it off, but wasn't able to, how long ago had she laughed? Held someone close, and told them she loved them. Years? Months? Weeks? She didn't know, she couldn't remember. She was tired of this, of waking up alone, of sleeping alone, of the never ending feeling of absence, or abandonment.
She let tears fall, let her guard slip. She had waited long enough. How long would she hold on to a dream that could never be? She had loved him, and he had left. She had given her everything. Her tears, her screams, her blood, magic, soul and body to have him back. She shifted slightly in her chair and was hit by ray of sun. Frustrated with herself and the sun she stood up awkwardly and stretched. She walked tiredly to the other side of the room, and turn on her beloved boom box a little louder "I will remember you, will you remember me…don't let your love pass you by..." She shook her head sadly at the boom box, she didn't need to hear this, but it soothed her anyways. Walking away from it, she walked to her bedroom and began her morning exercises. 50 sit ups, 100 crunches, 20 pushups. Closing her eyes she began, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…8, 9, 10, 11. She felt her body cry in protest, her lack of sleep made her dizzy, but she pushed on. This always helped, or at least it had, her mind seemed to busy focusing on the pain she felt physically to wonder off and contemplate anything else.
An hour later Hermione stood up, shaking slightly, she always pushed herself to hard. She look down at herself and sighed sadly, that scar never faded, those wounds had healed but her heart had not. Sitting on the edge of her bed she looked around her room. Empty walls, decorated scarcely by empty picture frames. Shaking her head, she chided herself for being so absent minded. The day that she hung those very frames she had planned to fill them with pictures of loved ones, pictures of Harry, of Ginny, of Ron, but she hadn't it hurt to much to do so. It had hurt less to see them empty. It suited her she concluded, she was just like them, empty. Closing her eyes to push down the pain that brought tears to her eyes she exhaled slowly, she needed more than this. She needed something she had denied herself for far to long. She had waited long enough, she needed more than these four walls could offer. She needed closeness. Peace, harmony. She had longed for him, for that someone for far to long. Wiping tears away she summoned to her a piece of parchment and ink bottle followed by a quill. She sighed, who would she write to? She had left everything she loved behind. Her parents were gone; they had died not long after that night. A desperate attempt to strike back by Deatheaters. She had been the cause of her beloved parents death. She had been the first one to see them having arrived before anyone. The first one to touch their cold bodies. She had wept for hours it seemed holding on to them, until Ron had gathered her up in his arms and taken her away. Hermione had held onto him as though she would drown in misery if she didn't. Looking back now, she most likely would have.
She thought of him, her Ron, her best friend. He and Harry had been everything to her during school. She had always been bossy always wanting them to do more, to try harder. She had pushed them to be all they could be, and in return they had showed her life was not all about learning it was also about doing. She looked down at the parchment, and scribbled a note, brief and to the point. She didn't know where she stood with anyone of her old life, if they'd even want to meet her but she would try. She had been gone long enough. She wanted warmth, she wanted to feel alive at least in one way. She looked over the note, 'Dear Harry please meet me where we saw each other last time around 1 pm, I'd like to talk to you, to answer your questions. Hermione' "Lenka," she called out, and a small black owl hooted in the shadows, "I have work for you old girl." The owl flew down, and landed at the edge of the bed, where it await patiently for Hermione to tie the piece of parchment to her leg. Once Hermione had finished she petted the small owl, "take it to Harry Potter, and no one else, alright. Off you go Lenka."
This was a good thing, this would be a new beginning. She'd have to learn to let go of the past of the memories that haunted her. She stood up and began to prepare herself to go, she had only two hours. Two hours to become strong, to make herself ready to talk about that night. To talk about him. First off though she needed a cold shower, she needed to wake up, to push away thoughts. Turning on the water she stripped down to nothing and braced herself before stepping into the chilled cold water. Ten minutes later she stepped out, a glint of hope in her eyes, she grabbed a towel and dried herself, before wrapping it around herself and returning to her bedroom.
She smiled at her reflection tiredly. She was returning to them, she had run from those that loved her for far too long. Believing herself incapable of loving them in return, but seeing Harry had proved that she could still love, even if it hurt to. She looked at her bed, so many nights she had tossed and turned, last night it had been no different, but now she had a new focus, trying to piece her life back together. She had lived so long with pain, and misery that it had almost driven her to the brink of insanity. She turned and looked at a bookcase in the far left corner of the room. The true essence of magic sat there, humble, looking old, and as though it was never loved. She had used that very book that night, and had kept it ever since then. She shook her head and held back a small sad laugh. She had begged, pleaded, and cried for the knowledge she had acquired during her former years of schooling to save someone she loved, but it hadn't. She had called upon magic she didn't know was real or even factual now, but had believed in it with every fiber of her being, and had used it, and had felt a stir inside herself, even now just by thinking of it, but nothing else. She looked away from it and continued to dress, having just finished drying her hair.
She placed the thoughts of that night as far back in her mind as she could unaware of what she had done. That she had given more that night then people had done for many years all over the whole world. That night, which haunted her dreams, had awoken magic that had not been called upon for thousands of years. Magic that Harry's mother had barely tapped into.
With love now and until forever more,
Winters'Darkened'Reflection
