My eternal gratitude to TheFrenchPress for providing me such lovely photos to write about.

I promised you a happier chapter, and I think I succeeded.

But everything came in seasons. And fall was slowly on its way out.

Warm sweaters made their appearance in her closet; several nights were spent reading under a thick blanket on the coach. The warm fires burned out the sorrow sitting heavy in her chest and cauterized the wound. It still hurt—it always would—but there was a rebirth in simply choosing to continue forward even in the face of great despair. Hermione took solace in that small hope, watching the fireplace for hours as it transformed and transmuted the raw materials into pure energy.

It was enough for her to start.

She finally ventured back into town on a rainy day, noticing how the cool air bit through her coat more readily now. She wrapped the scarf he had leant her around her neck.

He'd never asked for it back.

She wandered into the local bookshop. The smell of the last traces of fall greeted her; patrons sat in corners reading and drinking hot apple cider. The counter at the back held a case of biscuits and pastries, and Hermione felt her mood lift in a way it hadn't yet since she'd moved to town. She purchased two large icing covered biscuits and a cup of apple spiced tea and settled down with a book.

She stayed the day there, losing herself in the pleasant atmosphere surrounding her and within the pages of the story she read.

She didn't notice him until he cleared his throat.

She looked up and met the tall man's eyes with a genuine smile, satiated by the hours spent in her natural habitat. "Hello, Severus."

"Miss Granger."

They stared at each other, but Hermione didn't feel an ounce of unease; the perfumed store seemed to have relaxed her greatly. She was pleased to see Severus; there was nothing else pressing on her. No need to inquire, to understand, to ponder. His presence simply was, and it was most welcome.

Hermione had the distinct impression that Severus was uncomfortable however; he was meeting her on unfamiliar turf. She gave him a warm, languid smile, gesturing to the seat across from her.

"Would you care to sit down?"

There was a moment of silence, stillness, contemplation, and then to her surprise, he sat. She noticed he held a book as well.

She moved the plate of biscuits closer to the center of the table and watched his eyes dart to them as he bit the inside of his cheek.

Content and relaxed, she took a sip of her tea before returning to her book. After a few minutes, he did the same. Hermione felt warmth suffuse through her as if they were sitting in front of a fire. She could almost hear the crackle of the wood.

She did not think of her pain. She did not think of her failures. Or her fears of the future. Her loneliness. The despair that had threatened to overtake her. No.

She only thought of tea and biscuits and books and the quiet comfort Severus' presence provided.

For once, it was a very pleasant afternoon.