Chapter 12
Mountains in the Path
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I shudder, feeling the wintry coldness surrounding me. I pull the covers closer to me, huddling into a small ball. I look up at the dark overlooking ceiling.
I am almost afraid to close my eyes. Stop being so silly, I think to myself. You're fretting over a bunch of nightmares. They were convincing ones, though. Dreams still, you don't believe them do you? I ponder the thought for a brief moment. I leave the question unanswered in my mind. Not wanting to concentrate on anything else, I glance out the window.
The moon is a thin sliver of white contrasting on a bluish black background. The outline of the branches from a few nearby trees interrupts the carefully organized view. The night seems to be clear, for the shapes stand out brilliantly against each other.
I sigh bitterly, leaning on one side. Every few moments, my eyes dart to the clock on my bedside table. It's getting late. I stare intensely at the scene outside of my room.
It is like a perfectly framed picture, drawn by a steady hand and guided by an experienced eye. The pure beauty of it is suddenly ruined. A large gray cloud moves in front of the moon, ever so slowly. I wish silently that it would leave, but instead it insists on blocking out the smooth stream of white from the moon. A misty fog covers and hugs the glass on my window.
Stubborn imbecile.
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Alone. The stinging coldness snips at me. I'm running, running through the misty fog. It surrounds me. The clouds of white suffocate me with fear of the unknown. I can hardly see a few feet in front of me.
I stretch my arms out as if reaching out to an unknown person or thing. Nothing, but wisps of white, enter my hands. I feel a gust of wind behind me. A haunting sensation tickles the back of my neck and shoulders.
I turn around. There is nothing, but more of the whitish mist. I begin to run, from what, it is uncertain and undecided. I keep running. The wind brushes past my face, flinging my hair back.
I'm looking for something. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I am looking for it. For how long or whether I'll even find what I'm looking for, is a few of many unanswered questions.
I sit up suddenly. My heart beats rapidly as I gasp for air. The dream was disturbing, but so metaphorical. My mind races as I try to solve the true meaning of it, other than the obvious. I sit here alone, staring out into the empty darkness, carrying my burden alone.
~~~~~
I wince slightly as I step out into the bright sunlight. The snow reflects it with a brilliant, but blinding constant stream shining white. I place my steps carefully for the ice glistens, covering the still ground.
The cold bitter wind blows against my skin, stinging it. The frigid winter air settles uncomfortably around me, crowding me with a sense of tainted loneliness. The sun shines merrily on me, as though nothing could be ruined.
I shudder as the thought of the dreams, no nightmares, I had last night, race through my mind. I scowl. I feel a lump rise up in my throat as the memories rise. I take in a breath of cold air, feeling it run through my lungs before exiting out with a wisp.
I walk. I walk down the path with no particular goal in my mind. I need to get away. No, I have to get away. I keep walking, not realizing where I'm going, not caring much either.
Thoughts and memories are viewed in my mind like a slide show. My life has changed so dramatically in such a short amount of time. I have found love, or is it love? I shake the thought away, brushing it aside to a small pile of them, but it comes back, haunting me with more vigilance.
Are you sure you're in love with him? You have only known him for a short period of time. Are you willing to give up everything and anything to be with him? Is he worth it? Do you deserve it? Can you risk it? Will you allow yourself to risk it? How do you know that he loves you back? How do you know that it isn't a plan to get closer to Harry? Can you really risk betrayal of the friendship you have built for so long for someone who claims to love you, someone who you don't know that well? Well, can you?
I scream.
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I hear a sudden and abrupt anguished scream. It rings through the forest, shattering the peacefully cold silence. My mind slowly registers the familiarity of it, Hermione.
~~~~
I feel myself falling onto the snow-covered ground, slipping only slightly. It is so cold. No tears fall, I have cried too much in the last few nights to have any left. It is so quiet. Get a hold of yourself, Hermione. No one is here to help you now.
I bite my lip, looking up and around at my surroundings. Tall, overgrown, pine trees tower above and over me. Where am I? I am lost. I let the words sink slowly in; my mind is numb from the cold and the fall. It's your fault and you know it. You should have watched where you were going.
I groan, whining because of the small derogatory rational voice in my mind. I struggle to get up. Finally, after a few unsuccessful attempts, I manage to stand. I turn my head, looking down one end of the path before turning and looking down at the other. There are no footprints for me to follow back home.
I look up at the grayish cloud streaked sky. White bits of snow falls down onto me, covering me, surrounding me, confining me. I feel the small cold pieces rest on my skin, before disappearing into small tear like small water droplets.
I lower my view, glancing around. Everywhere looks the same. Why can't I remember anything? I fall down back onto the cold ground, distressed and defeated. Looking down at the snow on the ground, I clear my mind from everything. I sit here for a long undetermined amount of time.
~
"Hermione!"
I hear something, but nothing seems to register in my mind. It is too cold.
"Hermione!"
Something familiar sparks up in my mind. I try to concentrate on it, but I don't seem to remember.
"Hermione!"
That is my name. Who would be calling me in the middle of the forest?
"Hermione!"
A dark shadow falls across me. I raise my head slowly and instinctively. I see a pale face with extremely light blonde hair. I shiver slightly. I know him, but I can't seem to place his name or how he is related to me.
"Hermione?" His voice is soft, but questioning.
"Where am I?" My voice seems so far off, as though the words are not my own.
The figure kneels down and lifts my chin up, as though examining me.
"You're out in the forest," he says calmly. "Hermione? Are you okay?" His words seem to echo in my mind.
I nod weakly, finally remembering who he is. The realization was slightly comforting. At least I am not talking to a complete stranger.
"Can you get up?" His tone muddled with concern.
I quickly nod and put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself. I begin to stand, but I fall back down, my legs, unable to support myself. I hear a distinct sigh, before finding myself lifted and carried away. I relax and lay my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes.
~~~~
"Do you feel better now?"
I nod weakly. Though I am still shivering, I am not outside in the arctic cold. I draw the quilt around me, closer, feeling the warmth from the fire smothering me with its welcome glow. I close my eyes, allowing it to soothe me.
"What were you doing out there in the forest?" His voice is slightly stern, but the concern in his eyes tells me otherwise from the obvious.
"I don't remember very clearly. I found myself in the middle of a snow covered path with towering trees on the sides," I explain slowly, trying to remember, but my attempts were rather futile.
He sighs, as though my answer was the one he was expecting all along.
"Be more careful next time, I may not always be there," he cautions. His words are disturbing, though they mean for the better, but it brings up a sense of insecurity and nervousness.
"Don't say things like that," I say softly, tilting my head away from his eyes.
"We can't pretend that everything is fine either," he replies. There is a tint of resent in his tone and voice.
I close my eyes tightly, shutting myself away from the world for a brief moment. I don't want to think about the possibility, though it gnaws at me everyday and night. Everything is almost perfect, I don't want it all to be ruined.
"Let's not think about the future," he whispers softly.
I turn to look at him. Curiosity gets the better of me.
"What will happen, will happen and there is nothing we can do about it. What we can do, is to see how we spend the present." His voice is cold and his gray eyes stare at me through the stray strands of blonde hair.
He is right. We have no control on what happens in the future, but we do have the power to influence the present.
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