Trapped in a Dream

Hermione's footsteps echoed off the hollowed tree trunks and mossy boulders, scattering shadows throughout the expanse. The foggy mist kissed her hair and lips as she strolled through the midnight black darkness of the Forbidden Forest. It surrounded and swallowed her within it, squeezing the precious air from reaching her. She didn't know where she was going; just that she needed to keep moving.

All at once, a low growling came from within the mist at her left ankle and as Hermione paused, staring down, her eyes widened in terror and fear, and her mouth gaped open. A werewolf crouched among the woods, his haunches raised, and teeth bared. She could just make out its sleek silver coat and sharp, pointed ears in the full moon's light but the rest of its body was hidden in the fog and darkness.

Panicked, Hermione turned quickly around and began backing away, only to find another angry werewolf staring at her with glowing yellow eyes, followed by another and another until she was completely surrounded. She screamed a shrill, awful cry and covered herself with her cloak, falling to the smooth dirt ground, before they were upon her.

'Oy! Wake up, Hermione, you're gonna be late for breakfast!'

Hermione jumped at the sound of Ron's voice, sweat pouring down her forehead, and fell sideways off her bed onto the cold, solid ground of her chambers. Her bushy hair was a mess and her hazel eyes were wide in fear. It was just a dream, she told herself, you're safe now at Hogwarts, and nothing here will hurt you.

But was she really safe?

She wrapped her arms around herself and tucked her knees in close. Hermione hated living with the awful secret living inside of her. Every night for a month she had been tortured into having the same nightmare and every morning she would awake and tell no one, letting it eat away at her sanity and nerves until she could barely stand to go to class anymore.

Yet, she lived with it.

Yesterday she had almost lost it in transfigurations, when Professor McGonagall had asked a question about pincushions and porcupines, suddenly calling upon Hermione. Nearly falling from her seat in surprise, she looked up to see her hand waving madly above her and the class staring wide mouthed into her crimson face. As tears welled up in her eyes with frustration, she chocked out an apology and tore from the room, her heavy footsteps echoing through the empty corridors as she hid herself in the back corner of the library and sobbed. No one could hear her with the books inhaling her cries and the shelves around her provided a secure hiding place until class was out at least.

When she had shook herself and recomposed, Hermione had simply wandered down to the Great Hall and joined her two best friends for lunch, both who looked at her inquiringly but didn't push her. She hated herself for hiding her problems from them but she couldn't bear to see their reactions if she told. Ron would probably think she had gone mental and Harry would join him before they laughed at her. No, she wouldn't tell anyone, she couldn't.