Sorry for the long update! I'm cringing as I write this…I'm sure many of you are thinking along the lines of "finally!" but I'd blame my lack of updates on the fact that I couldn't one-up my last chapter. My standards have gone up, but along with that, any ideas I've had have been dismissed, forgotten, and now I can't seem to find them anymore. It may just be me, but the way this chapter's written isn't as good as my other ones.

I've made a forum, I would greatly appreciate if any of you would drop by to start a new thread or something. You should be able to find it on my profile, I think, or you could probably search "The Ink Pot".

Summary of Previous Events: At the final battle, Hermione was hit with a memory curse, now suffering from amnesia. Severus found her time-turner; a curse hit him and gave him a second chance in life as a young man. He left the wizarding world, and found the young Gryffindor in Napa, now named Jane. They've become friends, and he has promised to help her and stay by her side. Every now and then, Severus receives letters of advice from Albus and Minerva.

Recently, a misunderstanding hit them both, hard. The two have found friends in each other again...or is it more? When Jane comes to Severus with a problem in her hands, he realizes just how much his position in her life is worth.

Disclaimer: I own no characters, but all of the ideas (for once!) belong to me. As does the choppy writing…

He paused, unconsciously stopping his finger on its journey across the page. Not looking at the text anymore, his concentration held, nevertheless. He strained his ears. What had that been? It had sounded like a rather muffled thump, but not being able to discern it as anything of importance, he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination and looked back down at the book spread open on his lap.

It was a few seconds later that he heard it again, although it sounded sharper, more hollow. Sure now that it wasn't something he'd imagined, he neatly shut the book, placing it on the stack of unused coasters beside him before pushing himself out of the chair towards the large window of the library. He fiddled with the bottom button of his untucked dress shirt, his gaze sweeping across the grounds. He frowned as his eye caught movement below him, disappearing among the trees of the orchard only to emerge from the other end. Almost as if they could feel his eyes on their figure, the intruder looked up. He sighed. Jane.

He watched her hurry across the large grounds, clasping a straw hat to her head. It fell; she bent to pick it up before hurrying again, her bushy hair flying behind her, her white summer dress whipping along her ankles. As she came closer, he shook his head, a small smile replacing the frown. When would she learn to use the front gate like any other person, rather than sneaking in? Forgetting about his book, he left the room, descending the stairs in bare feet covered with fluffy gray socks. He was listening to the rhythmic muffled thumps of his feet on the stairs when a sharp rap interrupted.

He looked up to see Jane already there, face flushed and hair as wild as ever. She didn't appear to see him through the tinted glass sliding door that she was now knocking upon again with renewed vigour, looking down at a dirty hem at the same time. Wincing for her knuckles and for the glass, he hurried to the kitchen, unlocking the door and sliding it open just as she raised her fist to knock again. Stepping in without a word, she stopped right in his way, pulling off her shoes and hat.

"Good morning to you as well. Just because this is the back door, I don't get any greeting?" He raised an eyebrow in amusement, but the other soon joined it at her reply.

"Leave off it, Severus. It's your fault that the fence isn't patched up anyway." She brushed past him and pulled out a chair, the legs scratching the floor with a series of high-pitched squeaks before she flopped upon it.

He rolled his eyes. Not this again. Jane had discovered a rather large, rotting plank in his fence, and had proceeded to prod at it. It had fallen over with little effort, revealing a hole large enough for someone to climb through. She had bugged him to fix it, and he'd fastened it to the larger plank running across the top with a nail, but she thought it was a poor job. He really had to agree, it just swung open on its small metal hinge, but he couldn't be bothered to make it better. There wasn't anyone to care about the hole, anyway. Well, besides her, that was.

Looking at her again, he could tell that wasn't the reason she seemed so disagreeable. Her upper body lay limp across the table, one arm under her chin while the other was sprawled across the table, and she was entertaining herself by blowing a fluffy strand of hair off her nose. He was silent for a moment, then decided to speak.

"What's wrong?"

She raised her chin, looking at him with barely hidden surprise before dropping her head back on the table's surface, her hair forming a curtain around her features. She mumbled something he couldn't hear, but didn't make any move to explain anything else. Crossing his arms, he leaned comfortably against the doorway, continuing to study her, not making a move to do anything either.

Moments passed by in silence. She shifted a bit in her seat, staring cross-eyed at the strand on her nose, then started fidgeting in an unsettled manner. Suddenly, she stood up, nearly knocking over her chair in her sudden spring.

"Will you stop staring at me?" It was loud, accusing.

He only continued to look at her, the corners of his lips lifting in a small, amused expression.

"Severus…" she growled, looking for all the world as if she would grab the table and fling it at his head. She engaged with him in a staring contest, but was the first to look away. "Just stop it!"

Sighing at her holler, he mentally shuffled through the memories of incidents in which he had dealt with an emotionally unstable female. Picking out the best situations, he walked over, carefully placing his hands on her shoulders. He faltered at her glare, but steeled his resolve.

"What is it? I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

"It's nothing." She muttered, her voice giving away nothing.

"No, there is something." He was insistent, not about to give up. "Tell me. Please."

She stood there quietly, fiddling with her fingers, not meeting his eyes. Thinking that she might not have heard him, he opened his mouth to ask her again when she suddenly collapsed towards the spot where the chair had been. Twisting his body so that she fell against him, he exhaled sharply as he knocked over the chair, his side crashing against the table before scraping his arm and thigh against the leg of the overturned seat. He gritted his teeth, releasing the strangling grip he had unknowingly used to crush her against him. Pushing her away slightly, he swallowed before attempting in a shaking voice, "Are you okay?"

At any other time, he would have laughed at the absurdity of the question. She had run to him with an emotional problem in her hands, falling against him could hardly merit as a problem in this situation. However, she didn't seem to notice, only shaking her head before leaning closer to him. He sighed softly, holding her close and trying to ignore the pain searing up the left side of his torso. Stroking her hair, he comforted her quietly for awhile, feeling his shirt soak up her tears.

Gradually, she calmed down, turning her head to the side so she could breathe better. Raising one hand to brush the hair that was matted to her cheek, he took notice of her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Shifting her head so that it was nestled in the crook of his neck, she didn't seem to mind that his thumb was stroking her cheekbone, or drying the occasional tear that leaked from the corner of her eyes. Feeling that it was high time that he found out what was bugging her, he considered the best way to approach the situation.

"Jane?" he whispered. She didn't make any move to look at him, but he knew she was listening. "Let's go to the library and talk, okay?"

She gave a small nod before untangling herself from him. With his arm still around her, they slowly made their way up the stairs. She waited for him to clear off the space around them a bit before joining him on a single armchair. Curling up by his side (he winced, he'd have to take a look at that later), she fiddled with a button on his shirt. He stilled her hand with his own firmly. "What happened?"

She didn't appear to have cared enough to listen, but after a small moment, she began talking, her voice small in the rather large room.

"A few days ago…no, two maybe, I was taking a walk on the street across from the college. You know, the one with the confectionery and the small bookshop? It was just after class, and after a particularly boring lecture, I decided to stop at the local café before heading back to the apartment. It was just for a light snack, and I had no intent of staying there for a long time." She shrugged, and he felt the movement against his chest.

"I ordered a cream pastry and a cup of chocolate…I was staring out the window when the order came. I thanked the waiter and everything, and I was about to take a sip of the chocolate when something caught my eye. I don't even know what it was. Still don't. But it was like as soon as I saw it, it disappeared. I found out a few moments later that I was staring into the window of the bookshop…some little boy had his face pressed into the glass. It was a waste of money really…I threw almost all of the pastry away.

"For some reason, the bookstore was suddenly extremely appealing, and I kind of forgot that I was going to go back to my apartment and do my homework. The bookstore was always appealing to some inner sense, so naturally, I went in.

"They had a new section on display, and I decided to take a look. They were showcases of some new author…Laurie somebody or something of the sort. I flipped through some of them, they were modern day romance novels. The books didn't seem too interesting, but I flipped through some of them anyway. I could spare a few moments to catch an idea or two, couldn't I?"

Severus had been listening rather passively, an unusual thing because he usually couldn't keep his mouth shut long enough for someone to tell any kind of story. During most incidences, Jane had to tell him to just shut up and listen; this time, she seemed to be expecting an answer. Maybe she was unsettled by his silence. Maybe she just needed reassurance. Shifting a bit, he couldn't tell why it was so important that he voiced his opinion over something so trivial, but he nodded anyway. He continued listening as she resumed her halting speech.

"I was about to place the book back on the shelf when I realized that I had been reading something that…I don't know. I just couldn't take my eyes off of it. I should have just walked away, but I flipped back to that page, and started reading. It was unsettling, really…it was about some girl who had lost her memories or something like that. Like me. I flipped closer to the beginning…I think she lost it from a car accident. But what really bugged me was what I had read that first time. Her friends…they knew what happened to her and they never told her. She found out by overhearing them at a friend's house, and even when she asked, they didn't admit that they knew anything. It started driving her insane…nearly. She started hunting for answers everywhere in places she'd always assumed were just…there. I didn't read anymore, I didn't want to know what happened in the end.

"I didn't do my homework that night…I'm glad I didn't have classes the next day. The whole time, that story was burned into my mind. I kept on telling myself that it happened to a lot of people, this amnesia, and that the stupid author just took advantage of the situation, but…

"I moped around the whole night, just curled up on the bed or couch or something, I couldn't go to sleep. I got up the next morning, intending on forgetting about it…I nearly did. I think. It didn't come to me anymore, I was too engrossed in work. It came back last night, but I got sleep, eventually. But this morning…"

She trailed off. Somehow, her hand had found its way back up to the button. She was pulling on a loose thread, worrying her lip.

"Yes?" he prompted gently. She'd told him almost everything, she couldn't very well just stop at the end.

"It all just hit me. What if that was happening to me? No one ever mentioned that when they told me I might not fully recover…what if that's what they meant? Could they just not tell half-truths? Why does everyone insist on hiding everything from me?"

She was hysterical at this point, not leaning on him anymore. He stiffened, and was glad that she wasn't close enough to feel that. She'd found the one secret he'd been ignoring…he knew better than anything else that he was hiding pieces from her. Forcing himself to relax, he pulled her close again, the confined space keeping her arms from flailing and any other limbs from doing any further damage. She didn't know, but she had repeatedly hit his rapidly bruising side, and it wasn't doing anything to help at all. Feeling her warmth, he relaxed further, and he could feel her back muscles release their tension from beneath the circles he was rubbing on her back.

"Shh…" Gently shushing her, he wanted to tell her that it wasn't true, that no one was hiding anything from her. He would do anything to chase away that lost, frightened look, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her that lie. After a heart wrenching moment of wallowing in self-hate, she felt her push herself away from him, a steely glint in her eyes.

"You know what?" He thought for a freezing moment that he'd been found out, that the secret was over. "You're right. I shouldn't mope about all of this. If it happens, it'll happen, and all I can do is to make sure that it doesn't happen too soon. Crying isn't going to help, although," she added thoughtfully, "talking to you sure did."

He blinked. He'd told her to stop moping? He had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at her stubborn profile. Definitely Gryffindor, through and through. Reckless, foolish, brave Gryffindor. Minerva couldn't possibly be prouder.

The sun slowly set, promising another long sunny day tomorrow. They both sat in the small bar, the remnants of their dinner still sitting on the recently bought, rarely used dining table. Sipping at the last of the desert wine, they sat in comfortable silence, the faint sounds of outside activities enclosing the last bit of daylight left.

"Thank you."

Severus looked up from the wineglass he was swirling in surprise. Returning his gaze to watch the ripples along the liquid's surface, he inquired, "What for?"

"For this. For everything." She replied simply.

"Could you please elaborate? Perhaps the wine has bemuddled my brains."

She smiled. "For the dinner. For letting me in…for letting me talk to you when I really needed it." She paused. "Thank you for all of it."

He let the words soak up awkwardly, but finally replied.

"You're welcome."

Looking up at the clock, he noted the time. Half past seven. At the same time, Jane stood up. "I really should be leaving…I haven't fed Ginger since this morning. She's probably yowling and wrecking furniture by now." She colored, from remembering the broken chair, he reflected. He said as much.

"I can replace it, really, I—"

"No need," he replied firmly, wincing as he got up stiffly from the stool. Spotting his features knotting in pain, she immediately dropped the subject.

"What is it? Are you hurt?" In her haste, she hit the very spot he'd been hoping he wouldn't have to touch until he soaked for a decent hour in hot water and braced himself enough to rub a salve over it. He gasped. "Gods woman, if I wasn't before, I am now!"

She flushed, her hands still next to his hip. "May I…?" She gestured towards his injured torso, careful that her hand was a safe distance away.

He was indecisive, not wanting to risk another jolting pain (after all, no one had ever deemed Gryffindors as careful), but he nodded reluctantly. If anything happened, he'd just give her as good as he got, he supposed. Not that he'd ever hit someone, of course.

Lifting the bottom half of his shirt, she glanced up at his face before inspecting his side. She gasped, her free hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"What is it? It can't possibly be that bad." He tried to look over the flap of white cloth that she held up, but when she let it go, she stilled his hand from lifting up his shirt.

"No. In fact, nothing can possibly look worse. It looks more like the table fell on you rather than the other way around." She pulled him up the stairs rather roughly, ignoring his protests.

"Stop! I can take care of myself! Let go, or I'm going to hit something again!"

"Then just make sure you don't! This is your house, after all!"

"That doesn't mean I'm not going to hit anything! In fact, I don't see what this has to do with it at all."

"Well, if this is your house, you should know your way around it well enough as to not run into walls…now where's the bathroom?"

"Right in front of you." Under his breath, he added, "Bloody woman. The edge of the staircase banister isn't as lethal as that arm you're waving about…"

"Sit," she ordered, pointing to the bed.

Fine, so she wanted to argue? He was going to give as good as he got. Or better. Besides, they were on his property, in his house, in his room.

"No." he replied, equally as commanding.

"Yes."

"No."

"Just sit down…do you want me to help you or not?"

He was going to retort that he'd never even wanted his help in the first place, but hastily complied at the dangerous, steely, glint in her eyes.

"Good. Now wait here and don't move." She turned to walk over to the bathroom. "And don't even think about getting away, Severus Snape."

He sighed, collapsing against the pillows in resignation. What could he do? He did not doubt her abilities to throttle him into oblivion, and he felt pain enough without such an experience. Propping himself on his elbow, he moodily picked at a loose end of a pillowcase. He wasn't feeling necessarily bad tempered, but he didn't like being ordered around either. Especially in his own room. He knew if he complained, he'd sound like a selfish child, but he wasn't sure what was more damaging, having her take care of him, or whining his way out of it. He didn't have much of a chance to dwell upon it, though, as she had sneaked up behind him and had just "accidentally" elbowed the back of his ribs just above his bruise; he yelped in surprise. He turned angrily, feeling pain once more as he landed rather heavily on his side.

"What is with you?"

She raised her eyebrow, but said nothing. Moving his arm, which was covering his injured side, she gently lifted up the edge of the shirt, grimacing as she spotted the bruised skin again.

"Is it really that horrible to look at?" he asked impatiently. "Stop making faces at me."

She laughed at his childish tone. "Just relax."

Still not able to see his side from his position on the bed, he had to be content with waiting until she left to take a peek. He felt her run her fingers gently over the bruised area, and he shivered in response, gritting his teeth. She didn't know he was ticklish, and he preferred to keep it that way.

The tension in his body began to drain away as she started to rub the sore spot. Only a dull pain remained as her fingers probed the bruise, leaving a trail of warmth from her hands that faded into a tingling cold. Probably from a cream, he mused lazily.

He had no idea how long he had been there, completely defenseless to her ministrations, when the bed tipped over slightly. Opening an eye that he hadn't known he'd closed, he was met with the sight of her concerned face.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Not answering for a moment, he stirred a bit. "Not at all. Quite the opposite."

She shook her head, bestowing upon him a small smile. He couldn't help but smile back.

"You know," he said, "you should take up massaging. I'd be the first person to recommend customers to you."

"Eww…no. I'd rather not touch someone's dirty skin, thank you. It would require me to touch their stinky feet too…" She made a wry face at the comment.

"And I'm an exception?"

"Of course."

Without warning, she lay down beside him, curling up at his side. She began playing with his hair, twirling it around her fingers, and watching the light play off the black strands. He watched her for a while, unnoticed.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence.

She answered without looking up. "Consider it as a debt repaid."

"There never was a debt."

She met his eyes, her inquiring gaze searching his face for answers. "How not? You've helped me more times than I could ever count."

"As have you." She might not know it, but just her presence alone had helped him to view life in quite a different perspective, and it meant a lot to him.

"If we both have lost count, I will suppose that I had one more to repay before I was equal with you."

He smiled. "I can't disagree with your logic, can I?"

"Of course not," she replied simply, closing her eyes and snuggling up to him.

The thoughts of the dirty dishes downstairs and of the yowling Ginger were the last before he drifted off to sleep, content with Hermione's warmth at his side.

Wait…wait! Don't say anything yet! I know I wrote Hermione instead of Jane, it's not a slip. Made to enforce the point, you know? It didn't seem quite fitting to screw in a hyperbole or to squish in alliteration…

I need feedback…I'm starting to wonder what my brain's up to now.