A/N: This story was inspired by the song 'Macushla', originally sung by John McCormack, a brilliant Irish folk singer, and more recently covered by Rufus Wainwright on his live tours. I prefer the original and you can find it on YouTube. I suggest you listen to the song before you read this to give you a feel for it. The fic is short, so take the time to hear the song. It's beautiful! nee xx

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Macushla, Macushla your sweet voice is calling
Calling me softly again and again
Macushla, Macushla I hear its dear pleading
My blue- eyed Macushla, I hear it in vain

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‘You know what will happen,’ she sobbed as she flung herself against his robes and gripped at the fabric with her tight fists.

Severus sighed and shuddered as he felt her pain washing through him and mingling with his own.

He had known it was foolish. He had warned her as much. But her beguiling smile and her willing lips had persuaded him otherwise, and for a few weeks at most, they had lived in their own impenetrable bubble. Sometimes, when they had lain together, and she had accepted him within her willingly and enthusiastically, he had allowed himself to believe, to hope, to think of a different future. He should have realised that it was fantasy, and he should have stopped it before it became too late. But it was too late for Severus, before it had even begun. He had known he was lost the minute she had tipped her face to his.

He gazed down at her and stroked her chestnut hair softly, feeling her relax into his chest and wrap her gentle arms around him. She took a deep breath, and her tears dried as suddenly as they had started. She extracted herself sheepishly as she rubbed the dampness from her cheeks.

‘Forgive me,’ she said, her eyes meeting his and flashing slightly.

‘Nothing to forgive,’ he said stiffly, his lips set in a thin line. He could see the mixed emotions on her face, and he knew that the warrior within her was fighting to win some inner battle. ‘But we always knew it would come to this, Hermione,’ he said, his voice a little softer.

‘I always wished for something else,’ she said, and she turned to lift her cloak from the chair where she had placed it the day before. Slowly, she wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and took a small step towards the door of the cottage. Turning, she looked up at him with her jaw set and her eyes defiant.

‘We will meet here again?’ she said, her voice clear and light. It wasn’t as much a question as an affirmation, but still, Severus didn’t know what to say to her.

‘I will return, if it is possible to do so,’ he stated, his voice slightly hoarse.

‘So will I, Severus,’ she whispered, and a small smile twitched at her lips. Then she turned and walked out of the door, closing it quietly and keeping the brisk draft from entering the small home they had occasionally shared.

Severus watched her from the window. As she always did before leaving, she stood at the edge of the cliff and stared out to sea for a moment, watching the sunrise as if committing it to memory. The wind was whipping her hair and blowing her cloak around her, and Severus felt a surge of pride. She looks like a Valkyrie, he thought to himself. As she turned to leave, her eyes met his through the glass. They stared at each other for a short moment, until Severus could bear it no longer and moved away from the window.

He heard the slight crack as she Disapparated away from him.

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Hermione waited until the boys were occupied and walked quickly back to the tent, her arms full of sticks. Harry raised his eyes to her briefly.

‘I wondered where you were,’ he said.

‘Gathering wood,’ Hermione murmured, keeping her eyes averted carefully.

‘What’s for breakfast?’ Ron asked, his eyes bright.

Hermione dropped the wood at her feet and shook her head slightly before ducking into the tent quickly. She closed her eyes and bit her lip tightly to stop it from trembling, and mouthed Severus’s name silently.

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Many Thanks to kizzy7 who beta'd for me. You deserve a huge hug!