Wandering

Thank you Charlotte for being my brilliant Beta.
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When the sun was high above her, Hermione decided again to trudge after the Horehound plant. Fever still wracked the broken body of Severus, and his trembling never ceased. The plant grew a short distance from where he lay, so with a heavy sigh she left his side and headed slightly deeper into the wood line.

Her feet crunched on the forest floor and a warm breeze lifted her hair from her neck. She thought of Harry, wild Harry and his death defying feats on his broomstick, free and happy in the sky making Hermione’s stomach roll with worry that his antics may land him on the ground. Good Ron beside his best mate, laughing as they zoomed over the pitch, tossing a Quaffle back and forth. And sly Ginny zooming between the two, stealing the show. How she prayed her friends were alive. A deep ache formed in her stomach and she clapped her earth sodden hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. She was so tired of wandering, so tired of stumbling upon death and destruction, and so deathly afraid that her new charge would succumb to the pull of death.

She allowed herself a moment alone, leaning against a tree and sliding down its trunk until she sat firmly on the ground. She tilted her head back against the warm bark and pointed her face towards the sky. Hot tears slid down her cheeks, making clear trails in the dust. She brought her knees to her chest, resting her elbows on them and fisting her hair, before crying out in the crushing hopelessness. Harry had been badly wounded as she caught her final glimpse of him, staggering and bleeding and shouting hexes as loudly as he could. Ron lay at his feet, dead? She was not sure. Then that blinding light surrounded her and rudely deposited her on the earth, Merlin knew where, and each time she tried to Apparate to familiar ground she was whisked painfully to a darker unknown.

She stumbled into burning Muggle towns, deserted or littered with bodies. She wandered over hilltops and valleys, forests and shoreline; uncertain of the country she occupied and totally unable to find another living soul save for the Death Eaters. Was the whole world destroyed? It seemed as though Voldemort had won the fight. There was still one more Horcrux left when Hermione was taken away by that unknown spell, one more that Harry had to find before he could bring down that vile creature. Had he made it?

Stop it, she chastised herself, angrily wiping away her tears. Professor Snape needed help and there was no time for wallowing in the past. She got to her feet, still sniffing back sobs that ached to be free, and grabbed the plant.

Severus lay on his side, curling into himself as the merciless fever scorched him. He opened his eyes to see the forest floor and the trunks of trees. Slowly, the earth began to slide up and down, rocking and blurring in the middle, as though he were on a ship. He gasped and rolled onto his back, greeted by the tall canopy of the woods and the occasional glint of direct sunlight burning past his corneas. Even as he drew breath, it felt as though his lungs were closing, refusing the air and drowning him. His body ached as it had not for many years, and he closed his eyes against the pain, frowning deeper at the grit that must be under their lids.

Voices slowly rose around him, floating in circles and taunting him, jeering and yelling. He waved his hand to dismiss them; solitude would be better. Suddenly, he jumped as a stern voice and a towering figure swam into his vision.

“What are you doing boy? Get up and stop sniveling like a girl! SHUT UP WOMAN! HE NEEDS TO BE A MAN!” The voice was followed by the sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh and Severus watched his mother fall to the floor, the skin just below her eye open and bleeding. She turned her head from him and looked away, sending cold panic through his body.

“MOTHER! MOTHER NO!” Now it was from a distance. He watched his father grab the child and drag him out of the corner by his dark hair. He watched as his small body was hoisted into the air and thrown against the nearest wall.

His father again grabbed his small form off the ground and pressed him against the door, bringing his face so close that Severus got a whiff of the ever-present whisky. “So, you think you should garden like a woman do you? NO SON OF MINE PLAYS IN FLOWERS!”
Severus’s stomach rolled; he did not want to witness this night again. He had only wanted to grow the flowers for use in potions, though his inebriated father would never know that for he never opened his ears.

He watched in horror as his father grabbed his mother and dragged her closer. This was her last day on this earth; her freedom would come soon enough.
“This is what you should be interested in boy. Don’t you look away or so help me the both of you will be dead and gone.”

The child stood trembling beside his father as the sound of his mother’s skirt ripping open filled the room. He watched tears spill down his cheeks as his father raised his fist to his mother and watched himself jump each time the sound of impact resounded sickeningly around the small room. His mother screamed as his father entered her, crudely making her body jerk with every one of his thrusts.

The child screamed and lunged at his father, knocking him back with a blinding force. It was not the first time his magic ran away from him and he was glad for it. It was a small victory, quickly overridden by the fists of his Muggle father.

“Professor Snape….Professor…open your eyes, I have medicine for you.” His heart slowed as Hermione’s soft voice reached him deep in his fevered mind, and his lashes fluttered open, easily pulling him from a dark childhood memory and back to the forest floor.

Hermione brought the flask to his pale lips again. His eyes grew bloodshot and distant, as though a thin film covered them. She heard his fevered mumblings to his father, watched him twitch and jerk in the unfortunate memory his brain dragged him to. What she would give for a dreamless sleep draught now. Carefully, as though he might break, she wiped the sweat from his face with her sleeve, still cradling his damp head in her arms. Each wave of pain caused his body to jerk and spasm, punctuated by a gasp or sharp intake of breath. Compassion again won over sense and she held to him as her lifeline, her only familiar in a world turned upside-down. She was the first person he contacted after the death of Albus. Of all the Order members, he had trusted only her with his tale and she had come to think him a friend. She ran her shaking fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face and off his neck. Her hand softly trailed down the side of his face, over the coarse stubble that had been allowed to grow in his captivity, down the side of his neck and back up again.

Unconsciously, her body rocked from side to side, and she purred soothing nonsense to him, now realizing that she may not save her sanity if he was to parish. Suddenly, he was the only person that mattered. Her heart swelled and tears ran down her cheeks as he groaned again, his leg violently twitching. Her heart broke for him, and she wanted his pain to stop.

He was quiet for a while, settled firmly against her chest, swimming in the delirium that came with any high fever. Suddenly, he arched his back and screamed out in pain, his hand flew up and fisted the front of her robes as he twisted in her lap.

“Stop this!” she cried out as she wrapped her free arm around his shoulders, pulling his back farther into her chest and resting her cheek on the top of his head. “Shhhh, Shhhhh. It will pass. Hold on. It will pass,” she cooed into his hair, tears spilling down her cheeks. He continued to pull her robes in his pain, the heel of one foot digging rhythmically at the ground while the other foot was flat on the earth, its knee waving back and forth. His teeth clenched and he pulled in loud breaths between them, pushing deeper into Hermione. She held tight, stroking his hair back until, at last, his back relaxed and his foot ceased its peddling. He shuddered and his hand relaxed its grip on her robes, swiftly falling to his chest. She caught it in hers, still cradling his head against her chest, and kicked her legs out on either side of him.

Severus licked his lips and pulled in a few deep breaths before he gave her hand a faint squeeze. Setting his pride behind him, he uttered a quiet ‘thank you’ before drifting into sleep again.