To all my reviewers, thank you for all of your encouragement! Because of the resetting that went on with the servers (or so I know), I have no clue what my hit number is right now. It says chapter three has 2 hits while chapter one and four have like 8 or 6…strange, isn't it?

For the disclaimer, I won't repeat the same old stuff, but just to say, the cat is based off a rather friendly one that was sitting on the covering of our deck and came up to me, spotted the guinea pigs, and scared the hell out of my mom. I just had to add it, and when I told my mom, she made a face…but it'll relate well to the rest of the story.

No more long author's notes…now to the story:

Casting another look at the barren, pearly skies, Severus sighed. It seemed too quiet to sit out here and read. Besides, the chair he was sitting on was still wet from the morning's rain, not to mention that it would probably get wetter as it was sprinkling again. Hunching over more in an effort to keep the text dry, he glanced down the path, worry gnawing at him each time the empty road greeted him.

It was still early, but he was still concerned about Jane. It wasn't like her to be late to anything, especially to miss an appointment. Since yesterday afternoon, he had received no word from her of her whereabouts.

His head snapped up as he heard the hollow sound of shoes crunching on gravel. Seeing Jane, he got up, feeling relief drain through his body.

"Where were you yesterday?" The words came out harsh, biting.

He could tell by her shocked expression that she was surprised, but he didn't feel any guilt for it. "I—I was just down with a bit of cold yesterday," she stammered out, unsure of his reaction. A frown covered her expression. "What is it?"

Turning, partially to hide his embarrassment, and to pick up the book that was beginning to get a bit soggy on the edges, he shook his head. "Nothing. I just thought…" He trailed off. "Never mind."

She sighed. "Never mind what?"

"Nothing."

Another sigh.

"Come on. I can tell something's bugging you."

He looked at her this time, studying her face, then began walking down the path. "I thought something had happened to you, but nothing did, so there's nothing to worry about."

"Wait! Where are you going?"

He gritted his teeth in annoyance when he heard her boots squelching behind him. He stayed quiet.

"Severus!"

He turned, then paused. "I'm sorry." His voice softened. "It's beginning to rain again. Perhaps you'd like to get inside?"

Her face visibly brightened. "How about the corner café? We could warm ourselves up there as well."

He nodded, agreeing. "Okay, but let's hurry, we'll be drowned if we don't leave soon."

She laughed, following him across the slippery street.

"Jane!" He was exasperated. For some strange reason, she seemed…out of it.

She looked up, startled. "Oh! I'm sorry. What was it?" She tried to look attentive but failed. He sighed, then placed his cup back on the saucer, leaning back into the cushions of the booth.

"What's bothering you?" He looked at her, straight in the eyes.

She flushed. "Nothing, it must be the cold…"

"You shouldn't have been outside then." Pause. "Are you sure?"

"Yes…but I'm fine." She wouldn't meet his eyes, he could tell she was lying.

"Tell me the truth. What's bothering you?" he repeated. Leaning forward, his gaze intensified, causing her to squirm slightly in her seat.

"I—" She stopped, then sighed, looking away. She continued, in a small voice, almost a whisper. "Remember what I told you about my amnesia?"

He frowned, straightening at the statement. "Yes…" he replied, carefully.

"Yesterday…well, that is to say, I—" She took a deep breath, then continued speaking, looking only at the dark liquid swirling in her cup. "I was about to leave for class, and already running late, when I began to feel dizzy…I'd already had headaches since I'd woken up, but had decided to ignore them. Everything went blurry for a moment, and then I don't remember much after that…"

She stopped talking, still staring at the cup. "Then…?" he prompted gently.

"I woke up at the hospital. Something about the liquid in my brain…I—I don't know. It was my amnesia, the case had gotten even worse. That's why I didn't come yesterday, I was stuck in there. They let me out this morning, but I have a check-up tomorrow."

He was silent, contemplating what she had just told him. It had been brief, but horrible just the same. He watched her sip at the rapidly cooling coffee, thinking over her words. That's impossible! She was one of Hogwart's best minds! How can some small memory curse have eaten her so much of her? Her memories first…then what? Her ability to coordinate? What if she becomes motor- impaired? She was supposed to grow up, become some smart witch that worked along her fame and glory friends, basking in the praise of all her employers, not reduced to a girl who can't remember anything about her past! Her goal was supposed to be a hope that she could master her NEWTs, not her past! This is all wrong! I'm supposed to be in the dungeons, scaring all hell out of dunderheads in Potions…and hoping to survive another day of the infamous Know-It-All! Potter, Weasley, Miss Granger…no, Jane! Jane! If I'd never left, would things be different? What if I could just awaken and find that this all was a dream, that everything was back to what it had been? He clenched his teeth, frustrated. Painful memories came to the surface of his mind: the Dark Mark, the time-turner… He looked up to see her thinking too. Slowly, he released the tension in his jaw.

"Jane…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say. She looked up at him, her eyes searching desperately for a bit of hope, anything. "I promise, if things get worse, that I'll be here to help you, okay?"

"But—but…what if I don't remember you? Or, or—"

"Shh." He cut her off, wondering when he had become so attached to the young Gryffindor. "It'll all work out."

"Do you promise? That you'll be here? That it'll all work out?"

He hesitated slightly, then, "I promise."

He was in that room again, the corner one upstairs. He seemed to come to it so often, but it wasn't as if he wanted to go in. Something always…drew him in there, like invisible threads from a puppeteer's hand, as if was the puppet of fate. As of now, he was kneeling on the floor, ignoring the fact that the rug two inches from his legs would relieve his knees, or that they were even hurting at all. He was staring at the time-turner again, watching the pieces with grim intensity. No light came in from the window being pounded with rain, or the lamp hanging from the ceiling. Tracing the edges, he realized that staring at it wasn't going to do anything for him, and pushing himself up on his protesting legs, he walked stiffly to the library, collapsing into one of the armchairs.

Closing his eyes, the time-turner clenched lightly in his fist hanging limply at his side, he took a few deep breaths. Bringing up the small metal and glass device, he cracked open an eyelid, peering at it. It was in shadows, barely distinguishable from its nest in his fingers. Placing it gently on the table beside him, he busied himself with starting up the fire, not caring that he should be cooking dinner right now. It didn't matter to him, a few missed meals; he wasn't an easy victim of stomach ulcers, and, besides, hadn't he always skipped meals when he felt he was too busy for something so small?

The dim light of the small fire cast shadows in the corner of the room, and he settled in his chair comfortably, just looking at it, as if he was trying to get the broken glass, the dented metal, to speak. It wasn't as if he didn't expect it to neither. It was a magical object once, so why not? He surmised that he wouldn't have been the least bit shocked even if it had.

What a wish, hoping that a scrap of metal will talk to you, he thought scornfully. Even if there was any magic in it, any grain of sand, why would it still be there after all your handling? Look at all the fingerprints on it!

It was then that he spotted something he had never seen before. In the small disk of metal that had made up the base, where the sand would have sat, there was a small carving. A small spiral engraved into the base. He was about to touch it when he sighed and dropped his hand back on the armrest. Of course, what was he thinking? It was only to keep the sand moving in one direction when it fell through the glass. A general piece in any sand timer, and nothing more.

Placing it on the table, he closed his eyes, not noticing the small blue glow it gave momentarily before becoming what it had before, still and lifeless.

"What's this, Severus? What about this one, is it a kind of Daffodil?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's a Narcissus. The other is a tiger lily bud."

They were both in the garden, Jane and Severus, tending to the plants in their spare time. It was a bit puzzling to find out that with as much thirst as the girl had for knowledge, she knew almost nothing of the basic plants. She knew near to nothing about even a poppy, questioning him about the sunlight and watering. Oh well, he thought. At least she still wants to learn. That's one thing that has definitely not changed about Hermione Granger. And the fact that she's still so overly enthusiastic about everything…

"Oh! Look!"

He raised his eyes to see himself face to face with a tawny, thin cat. Its green eyes stared at him for a moment, then it raised its nose, the thin whiskers tickling his cheekbones. Sitting back on his feet slowly, he watched the curious feline sniff him, rubbing and purring against his thigh as it brushed past. As it sauntered off to Jane, the sunlight to dapple through the tree leaves above and onto its short white and tan spotted fur. It's tail flipped elegantly, and he caught sight of a few brambles in its fur, along with a thorn high in its paw.

"I think it's been lost by someone…It doesn't look or act very wild. Look, at its paw, there, it's hurt."

"Hmm?" She lifted up the paw lightly, the cat staring at her curiously all the while. "Oh! Poor thing!"

"Come on, I think I have a pair of tweezers in the kitchen somewhere. At least, if it doesn't take out the thorn, we can brush out its fur."

She picked up the feline, cuddling it close to her body. "You know," she said as she followed, "I had a dream a few nights ago about a cat."

He nodded, not particularly interested, but she continued anyway. "It was a big cat, orange, and I think it was called…Crookshanks. The weird thing was, I wasn't at home, or anywhere I recognized. I was in some kind of tower or something, with these four poster beds around me…oww!"

He turned to see her playing with the cat. "Ohh, you have sharp claws, don't you?" Putting the cat down, she continued, the animal walking beside her. "The thing is, I didn't feel scared or anything, but…but like…as if, I don't know. As if I was at home, or someplace." She hesitated. "You don't think it's a memory, do you? Like, maybe I had a cat before or something, even if I never saw a tower like that?"

Something inside him seized for a moment. Of course! She'd had a dream of Hogwarts, with that ugly kneazle of hers! He was about to encourage her, and was just about to open his mouth when a thought occurred to him. He couldn't tell her, how much would she believe if he told her she came from some magical castle? He settled for a shrug.

"Maybe."

She sounded somewhat disappointed. "Oh."

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the cat as they gardened, the uneasy thought never far from their mind.

Okay, I know that this chapter is very slow, and has almost nothing to do with the story. I'm sort of stalling, sorry. I figured out that I'd moved the seasons too fast, and now I have to fill in the blank chapters…I'm almost halfway through the story now (I think), so you can start guessing the ending. But remember that reviews show up, so be careful about spoilers and etc. Please review! I hope you enjoyed it!