A/N: This is written for Lady Phoenix Fire Rose's: The Scenery Competition Round 3. And finally, a Harry scene.

Sorry for the bad writing. Did this in about half an hour – this timing was worse than the first round. :) But I'm stubborn I guess. I can't just quit.

The Vigilant Night

Scene 3

They had apparated into a mound of snow. Literally.

'H-Her-mi-o-ne-' Harry's teeth refused to stop chattering, particularly as they had just left a rather vicious wind-storm.

'S-sorry,' the woman stuttered back, muttering an incantation soonafter. After a moment, the snow began steaming. Another incantation followed; he wasn't quite sure what the new one accomplished.

'It would defeat our efforts of staying hidden if someone spotted the steaming snow,' Hermione replied, still shivering and pain. The chattering in her teeth had reduced though as the warmth stole through her body.

Physically anyway. The chilliness in her heart persisted with a certain red-head's absence.

Harry remained silent; he knew such actions calmed her, so he simply held the Invisibility Cloak like a canopy over their heads as the brunette witch wrought her magic. In the blue light, she looked like a fire goddess blown from the pages of a picture book – one he'd read in the corner of the library as he hid from Dudley's gang. The one where the spirits sung happily, each powerful and willing to save the world.

He half-wondered if they had become living personifications of those spirits. The Golden Knight. The fire-sorceress. The white priest. But the roles didn't really fit them; in real life, they never did.

'We'd better set up camp,' Hermione said after a moment of silence. 'I'll cast the spells. You get the tent.'

It was always like that. Before…before Ron had left them, they'd alternate the jobs. Sometimes, it would be the red-head Weasley's turn to do the defence while Hermione pointed her wand at the tent and erected it. Or it would be his, and Ron would struggle with the ropes and pegs until Hermione took pity on him.

But now, it was just him picking up his wand and muttering a half-hearted incantation. The result was never as neat as Hermione's, but unlike his several previous attempts she did not call him out on it.

Well, at least it would keep the snow and cold out, and that was what was important.

'I'm done,' the brunette murmured after a moment, lowering her wand down and climbing into the tent, leaving the flap open so she could see into the sky. 'It's quite late.'

'Yes it is,' Harry agreed. 'We should eat something and get to bed.'

'We should.' But neither of them made a move – and not because they had nothing edible with them.

'There will be fish in the pond,' Harry said half-heartedly.

'Perhaps,' the girl replied disinterestedly. 'I'm not really hungry. I think I'll…just go to bed.' Her face was carefully blank.

'I'll go find some fish anyway,' the black-haired boy said, after a pause. 'We might be hungry later on.' He stopped again. 'Will you be okay by yourself?'

Her brown eyes bore into his green. 'Of course.'

Harry wondered how she could make such a firm statement seem so unsure.

'Well…I'll be right back.'

And so left the tent, lowering the flap behind him.

The snow was piled up three feet high. Nothing was visible from the top of the hill that was not completely covered in snow. The world all around was completely white. Just barely noticeable was the appearance of several snow covered trials going into the forest at the foot of the hill, though it wouldn't be for much longer. A blizzard was coming in fast.

So they'd been lucky. He'd have to find some fish quickly if he wanted a meal.

Except…he didn't really.

He followed the trails anyway; a quick look had showed them to be an animal's. Deer perhaps. The world got colder, and whiter as the tent quickly vanished from view; he stopped immediately, doing a quick Point-Me spell while pulling the Invisibility Cloak more firmly around his frame.

Once he was sure he would not get lost, he continued on.

Within minutes, the gentle snow had stolen the tracks, but still he continued on. He was sure there was a pond here somewhere – or he was sure he remembered Hermione mentioning one. Perhaps it was a different campsite; he had long since lost their bearings. And if the brunette had failed to correct her, she must have as well.

Or she was still suffering. Silently, with tears falling onto her frail pillow.

He ignored the stab of guilt and continued on.

A little while later, he stopped. Tall trees surrounded him, white and yet dark by the cover of an approaching storm. It would be stupid and reckless to go any further; days of bad weather had taught him how fast that storm would be upon them. Nothing but white mounds and trunks surrounded him. Mounds under which the world had been buried.

He hated hit. He absolutely hated how the snow covered everything, painting the world out in its cover of white. How it made things seem permanent. Etched. How it could still look innocent while concealing so much blood underneath.

How they had to endure the sight of it, day in and day out, no matter where they apparated. Where they hid. Because the entire country it seemed was drowning in snow…and there was no new lead for the Hocrux. They were stuck, five feet deep in snow.

Another foot, and they'd never be able to come out.

He pulled his wand out on a whim, raising it to eye level. 'Accio deer,' he said quietly, but there was no need for such caution. The wind silenced all other sound.

Beside him, a mound erupted, uncovering the frozen carcass. Long since dead, the deer had been almost entirely stripped of meet. A coyote perhaps, the boy wondered – before freezing as he wondered how he could think of such things with little emotion.

Perhaps his heart was freezing too. Just another thing he attempted to deny to himself. Attempted to ignore.

The deer was truly pitiful. It was nothing like Cedric, full of life if death hadn't been so clearly carved into his body. Nothing like Dumbledore, the sprawled form lying twisted at the base of Hogwart's tallest tower. Nothing like Hedwig, the snowed over form lying at the base of her case, blank eyes staring up at him –

He raised his wand again, feeling the rush of fire through his fingers.

He returned to the tent empty handed. Anything was better than stripping the poor beast with what remained.

Word count: 1063