A/N: Loved all the reactions to the last chapter! I suppose I'm a little mean to end chapters with cliff hangers, but I can't help it. I may do it again... sorry!

Thank you to my beta AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are my own.

Chapter 14: Mourning on the Moor

Being away from Severus's quarters, it turned out, did not stop me from thinking about him, nor did it make me feel any better. My first full day in Dartmoor I spent crying, wishing desperately for Severus to come bursting into my tent telling me he wanted to live; but of course that would never happen. Severus Snape would die, and a part of my heart would go with him.

Perhaps in time I would feel more like the solid spire of impenetrable granite towering on top of the hillside, but for now I felt like the steel grey clouds that covered Dartmoor's skies, their hope for a future slowly sliding away with every drop of rain crying upon the earth.

A gnawing hunger in my gut that I could not ignore woke me on my second day on the moors. Rolling out of bed feeling wretched but no longer in tears, I brewed a pot of tea. As I sat sipping the warm liquid, staring vacantly at the canvas wall, I was flooded with memories of countless evenings with Severus in his sitting rooms, and then of huddling over the kettle with Harry and Ron. It was enough to reduce me to crashing sobs once more.

Be strong, Hermione. It will get easier; it must get easier. This can't be what breaks you…

Can it?

Deciding I'd better do something productive before I went completely mad by Christmas, never mind making it to May, I donned the Invisibility Cloak once more and went scrounging outside for food. Finding nothing in the immediate vicinity of my tent, I trekked towards the forest in the valley below, ignoring the fact I was already soaked to the skin by the pounding rain.

Coming around the edge of the tor, I was hit with a wall of wind, which whipped and smacked the cloak around my legs and feet like a loose sail in a stormy sea. I stopped for a moment to ensure I was still covered, and noticed a herd of woolly ponies taking shelter against the trees a few hundred yards away, their bodies huddled together against the sideways rain.

A black pony stood slightly separate from the herd, grazing at first, but then raising its fine head, its large black eyes looking towards me as the wind blew its long mane and tail into tangled swirls. I felt a hitch in my breath, the equine's obsidian gaze reminding me of the man I'd left at Hogwarts.

Oh, Merlin, Gods, and fuck… must everything remind me of him?

Bowing my head against the weather, I stomped towards the shelter of the trees and the promise of distraction from my melancholy. The forest was made primarily of oak, the trees' curving, naked branches giving me little shelter against the rain. The strong wind made the branches creak as they held fast to their trunks, the sound punctuating the constantly whistling and pattering noise of the storm.

After traipsing through the forest for some time, I finally spotted a rabbit, its dark brown fur making it look like a lumpy brown rock next to the foot of an ancient-looking tree. The cloak meant I could sneak up to the animal largely undetected, as long as I stayed downwind.

Silently I raised my wand and whispered a "Stupefy." The rabbit slumped over, and I moved quickly so it wouldn't suffer, running forward and grabbing the rabbit by its hind legs. I made a slashing motion with my wand, whispering "Sectumsempra," causing blood to spill from its neck. Ignoring the twinge in my chest at using Severus's spell, I waited until the creature had bled out, then pulled it under my cloak and trotted back to camp.

Honestly, it amazed me sometimes how several months of living on the run with Harry and Ron had turned me into a fearless hunter. The first time I'd killed an animal—a squirrel—my hands had been shaking so badly I'd nearly dropped my wand and I'd nearly passed out at the blood; now the process was as easy as choosing a steak out of the case at the supermarket.

Back at camp, I skinned and gutted the rabbit with a flick of my wrist, and with another flick it was slowly turning on a spit, a bright little waterproof fire burning below.

For on-the-run meals, rabbit was actually one of my favourites (it was far tastier than squirrel or frog, though pigeon compared favourably), and I dug in to my dinner with gusto, ripping the meat from the bones with my teeth, praying I would find some solace in a full stomach. My hopes were sadly dashed when I recalled the rabbit stew I'd eaten only a week before in Severus's rooms. It had been rich and filling, and I'd consumed it with the knowledge that in only an hour more I'd be enjoying Severus's company by the fire.

Not that any of that mattered any more, for I'd never see my dear Severus alive again.

Cleaning up my dinner and putting out the fire, I returned to the tent to cry.

It took several days, but I slowly came to the realisation that I was drowning in my grief and I had nothing to pull me out of the water. Hunting and eating provided only momentary distractions before something inevitably sucked my thoughts beneath the current once more. I could not even focus on reading, each book bringing with it far too many memories that I only wished would go away.

The remedy, of course, was to spend most of my time sleeping, my tears long since run dry.

On Boxing Day I did wonder if I'd gone mad, if the conclusion of Severus's unalterable demise was the wooden block picked from the Jenga stack that finally sent my sanity tumbling to the floor after years of war picking away at the foundation. The funny thing was, I couldn't really bring myself to care either way. My sanity, or lack thereof, was nothing compared to my grief, which seemed to consume me like the rising tide.

The thirtieth of December dawned as dark and stormy as the days before it, and as I opened my eyes I was sure I'd never felt more alone in my life: Not when I'd first arrived at Hogwarts and had no friends; not in primary school when the girls in my class spent every recess calling me names; not in third year when both Ron and Harry wouldn't speak to me after I told Professor McGonagall about Harry's Firebolt; not even as I lay on the cold floor of Malfoy Manor being tortured unconscious and bloody by the wild-eyed Bellatrix Lestrange.

There were moments amidst my boundless grief that I wished for someone's company. That morning I wished for my parents. I ached for the warm, comforting hug of my mother as I curled in her lap on the worn but comfortable brown couch in our sitting room. I wanted the strong cup of tea and plate of chocolate biscuits my father would set in front of me as he stroked my hair and told me everything would be fine. It didn't matter if I knew he was lying—and in this case, he definitely would be—but his gentle voice and my mother's touch would make me feel better nonetheless.

At least, that's how it would have been before last summer, before I wiped their memories of ever comforting me from their minds.

At that thought another wave of grief crashed over me. The walls of the tent seemed to shrink inwards with each breath, and before long I could no longer stand being inside.

I didn't bother to put on a cloak before I pushed through the canvas door and out into the rain. It had been pouring since I arrived and the ground was soft, making squelching noises beneath my feet as I stepped forward until I felt openness around me.

I looked at the sky and felt the rain splash against my skin, cold and pure, its drops making rivulets of tears I could not cry. Not sure what I was doing but feeling compelled, I spread my body out on the earth, letting the mud and grass cradle my useless limbs and broken heart.

I thought, perhaps, that I might really be crying then as I stared up at the sea of iron clouds, my choked sobs sounding as if they were coming from far away as they met my ears.

This is it, Hermione. Your mind is going. You're going to break here, right now. The earth is going to swallow you up and suffocate you, and then the rain is going to wash your corpse away. You're done for. Say goodbye, Hermione.

"Goodbye," I whispered, my bottom lip trembling as I released my mind to the abyss.

"That is no way to greet me, Hermione," said a smooth voice, floating towards me on the wind.

Ah, this is it. Sweet, sweet madness. The place where Severus will always be alive.

His face appeared over me like a raven ghost, his cloak and hair fanning outwards like wings that protected me from the rain. I let myself get lost in his obsidian eyes, set so beautifully deep below his furrowed brows. I wished I could touch his face, but he was so far above me, and my arms seemed like lead rods by my side.

"Severus," I whispered with a soft smile.

"What exactly are you doing?" he asked, scowling at me.

"Going mad," I said matter-of-factly, and I started to giggle wildly at my own joke, though it wasn't really humourous: I really was going insane. I had to be, for Severus was here, and there was no way he could have found me.

"Get up," he said with a scowl.

"But I'm comfortable," I whined.

"You are mad," he muttered, and then stuck out one of his long, elegant hands. "Take it," he ordered.

I looked at him quizzically, tilting my head sideways and feeling wet mud squish against my ear. "I could but I don't see how a hallucination is going to help me up," I said.

"Then let me assure you I am not a hallucination. Get up, Hermione," he said more sternly, thrusting his hand closer towards me.

"You are as bossy as the real Severus," I said, and with great effort I raised my right hand. I expected it to do nothing more than hang in the air, but then his fingers were suddenly around my wrist and I was pulled violently upwards. I stumbled forward, looking at Severus aghast and confused as I found my feet.

"But—but you…" I stammered. My mind suddenly went into overdrive, as if I'd fallen out of the sky and had only minutes to think of a way to save myself.

It couldn't really be Severus, could it? He looked awfully real, standing in front of me in his black wool travelling cloak, wet hair plastered to the sides of his face, a dark scowl upon his lips.

But if it was him, how did he find me? And what if I didn't want to be found? I was trying to get away from him! I wanted to escape! I wanted to grieve!

"H-how can you be here?" I said in a high-pitched screech, feeling suddenly terrified.

"My wards contain a Tracking Charm. I was delayed, but no longer," said Severus, his expression blank. "We're going back to Hogwarts."

"No!" I shouted. To Severus I probably looked crazy, my clothes and hair full of mud and my red, puffy eyes bulging out of my face.

"You're not safe here. Now unless you want me to stun you and tie you up for the next four months, you will come with me," he snapped.

"No! Please! I don't want to go back! I can't bear it!" I screamed, scrunching my hands into fists so my nails dug into my palms. "Leave me alone!"

"It's my duty to ensure you are safe, Hermione," he said, taking a step towards me. "We're leaving."

"Well it's my duty to ensure you're safe and I failed! So you can too! Bugger off!" I shouted.

"I'm warning you, Hermione," he hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Warn away! I'M NOT LEAVING!" I turned and stomped towards the tent, intending to lock myself inside, but before I could reach the flaps the entire thing had disappeared in a blink.

I screamed and flew around, tears spilling out of my eyes in rage. "HOW DARE YOU! THAT WAS MINE!"

"I gave you fair warning, Hermione," he growled, tucking his wand back in his robes. "Now will you come with me, or must I bind and gag you?"

"FUCK OFF!"

I didn't have time for another word. Before I could comprehend what was happening, Severus had stepped forward, pulled me into a suffocating hold, and Apparated us both away from the stormy moor.