Yay! I updated at a somewhat soon pace!

And the chapter's kind of long too...so, that's a good thing.

I hope you like the update!

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.

Autumn had crept up before Severus was even aware summer was coming to a close. The days shortened gradually, the last rays of the sun's warmth drawing farther away. It was on a clear, crisp evening that Severus and Jane strolled in the park, amongst the fallen leaves. Snuggling a bit into his warm overcoat, Jane contentedly let her head rest on his shoulder. He glanced down.

"Are you cold?"

"Hmm? No."

Before he was even aware, his arm wiggled from between them and pulled her closer. However, she didn't seem to mind. A small breeze fluttered and rustled the leaves underfoot, and their hair whipped and tangled with each other's. He felt Jane raise a hand to brush away a strand that had made its way into her mouth, then the movement of her chin as she looked up at him.

"Do you like autumn?"

His lips curled up into a small smile at her random question. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because…it holds something no other time does. It's when things change, when things make one final move before it's time to leave."

She fiddled with the collar of his coat. "Really?"

He looked at her, the ends of his hair trailing in the frizzy golden-brown mass of her own. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," she replied hastily.

He stared at the top of her head for a moment, then sighed when it was apparent that she wasn't going to let go of her act. Letting the thought go for awhile, he stared up at the rapidly fading blue sky. The red of the maples contrasted so vibrantly with their background.

"Severus, can we go sit over there for a bit?"

She pointed over to a small, unoccupied bench to their left. Steering them both to the seat, he took the opportunity to pull away and look her straight in the eye.

"You want to talk about something," he stated.

"No, I just wanted to sit a bit," she protested. However, her acting skills couldn't fool him. She looked anywhere but at him, pretending to take interest in a tuft of dried grass as she rested her chin on the back of the seat. Deciding not to push her, he rationalized that she would soon tell him anyway.

He was right. But he couldn't have wished less that he'd never ever asked her in the first place.

"Did you ever know me before…now?" she asked, casually. She continued staring behind the chair.

"No." The answer was short. Why was she asking him this, of all things?

"Stop lying to me." She turned so that her knees touched his where his legs were propped up on the bench. "Why did you always tell me you never knew me, Severus?"

He was bewildered. How the hell had she managed to find out? He was at a loss of words at the naked feelings crossing her eyes. However, she kept her words and gaze steady.

"When I first met you, I just thought you were another friend. I always wondered how you knew me so well. Damn it," she said fiercely, "I trusted you. And for the wrong reasons, too. When you were so sure that nothing was going to happen, I thought you were one of those rock steady people who couldn't be shaken by anything. And then now…" she trailed off, twisting the fabric of her wool sweater in her hands.

"Jane, I—"

"My name's not Jane. It's Hermione."

The next words slipped out, unchecked. "How the hell did you learn this?"

"Oh, so you thought you could hide it from me?" Her eyes glimmered with tears and defiance. "Maybe this will look familiar to you."

Swiping the tears from her eyelashes, she dug into her purse, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper. With shaking hands, she tore open the folds. "Here." She very nearly threw it at him.

He froze in shock. The letter. His eyes skimmed over the words he had written, remembering every phrase.

Dear Albus and Minerva,

It's been awhile since I've written to you. It's not that I forget; it just seems like time moves so quickly that there's not enough time anymore to do anything.

Jane, or Hermione, is well, as am I. She is still fond of Ginger, and sometimes the two of them together remind me of the days at Hogwarts. However, the calico does not resemble the great monstrosity you say she called Crookshanks at all.

It is as disappointing as it has ever been to find that there still hasn't been a lot of progress made with the cures. Sometimes, I wish I hadn't given up so that I could smell that familiar scent of potions one more time. Perhaps if I had known I'd become so attached to your young Gryffindor, then I would have stayed to research a counter-curse for her memory problem.

But I know as well as the two of you do that it is useless to dwell on something that cannot be anymore. Just wishful thinking, I suppose.

The nightmares have returned again, as it was last year. The months seem to bring back memories as they pass, no matter what month it is. Autumn, of the inevitable horrors in the final battle, and winter, of the Yule parties. Those were the best times to catch students drinking, snogging, or sneaking around and pulling pranks on each other after curfew.

As you reminded me, I know that it is only a small while until Hermione will eventually find out about our secret…

He stopped there, blinking away tears. What a coincidence, he thought bitterly, that such a thing should happen. He cleared his throat quietly, still staring at the paper before him.

"I always knew this would happen, but I hated thinking about it."

"That was never, and still isn't, an excuse, Severus."

"I know, okay?" He ran his fingers through his hair, staring up at the sky, now tinted different hues of orange and pink. "What can I do about it now?"

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything. I want to know it all. It doesn't seem fair that you know more about me than I do."

His eyes dropped to meet her gaze.

"Where do I start?"

"From the beginning. I want to know everything you can tell me. And…" she swallowed. "Don't hide anything. I don't care what it is, just…don't keep it from me."

"Are you sure?" Part of him was scared that it would hurt her to know. Part of him was stalling for time.

"Yes." Her eyes hardened, and she repeated, "Yes."

He'd never been good at storytelling. A man of rather few words, how was he suppose to tell her the story of her life? And dammit, the beginning wasn't a place to start. It didn't explain anything. However, her stare was beginning to get uncomfortable, and he felt it was high time that she found out what she wanted to know.

"Fine," he said eventually. "Ask me something. I'll try and answer your questions."

She seemed to be trying to organize her questions into a reasonable order. Finally, she settled upon one. "Who am I?"

He mused over the question. It was rather broad, wasn't it?

"Your name is Hermione. Hermione Jane Granger. Your parents were dentists in London—you lived there. I believe that you were a happy child. And then, when you were eleven years old, you received a letter that would change your life forever."

He explained Hogwarts with a feverish passion, recalling his own awe at the threshold of the great hall, the magic of the charmed platform at the train station, and Diagon Alley. He related his own experiences at the sorting ceremony, replacing his own self with her, then recalling what he felt as a professor, sitting at the High Table while the first years filed in. Then came the bountiful feast, the house-elves and her act to try and free them with the unsuccessful organization, S.P.E.W.

He told her then of the Headmaster Dumbledore, his success in finding twelve uses for dragon blood and his ever present twinkle, as well as his incessant love for lemon drops. Next came Minerva, then his own sour self. There was Hagrid, Flitwick, Sinistra, Binns, Hooch, Trelawney, and the ever-changing Defense against the Dark Arts professors: Quirrel, Lockhart, Umbridge, even himself while the arrogant Slughorn took his place. Then came the portraits and the Hogwarts ghosts and the corners they inhabited. And, of course, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

A look of wondrous awe had replaced the hurt look in her eyes. He was relieved for the meanwhile. The same look brightening her features now must have been the same when she had first opened Hogwarts: A History, he mused.

"Tell me more." Her eyes sparkled, like a child with a promise of candy.

He launched into another explanation, his hands moving of their accord as he made a map with his words. There were the Quidditch fields, the greenhouses, and Hagrid's hut, many animals in and between there and the Forbidden Forest. Then, the Great Hall, the dorms, the Astronomy Tower, the classrooms, and of course, the dungeons. Speaking of the Room of Requirement sparked his mind to remember what details she truly was looking for.

Quieter, he related the events that had taken place in the seven years she had been a part of the golden trio. There was her botched Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, made with the supplies she had stolen from his stores. There was the Philosopher's Stone and Fluffy, then the next year with the werewolf Lupin and the accused Sirius Black, and her excessive studies with the use of her time-turner. Then, the Triwizard Tournament and the danger it held as Cedric Diggory breathed his last. Next came Occlumency and the Department of Mysteries, then the search for the Horcruxes. Finally, the Last Battle had arrived. He paused for a moment, noticing that night had fallen on them, unaware. Yet still, she wanted to know more.

"What happened in the end?"

The end. It was a strange phrase. He stared up at the stars for a while. "It was horrible, the end of the wizarding world. Everyone thought that someone would come out victorious. The idea never occurred to anyone, that maybe neither side would survive. In the end, barely anyone was left. You were hit with a curse, the one that is causing your amnesia. I…was hit with something, but the curse never hit me. The time-turner had something to do with that, I suppose."

She hesitated. "Why did you take care of me?"

He looked at her, startled. What did she mean? He hadn't done an ounce of good for the young witch.

"How come you didn't leave me alone? Wouldn't it have been easier to just forget everything?"

He laughed bitterly. "It may seem so. But…you've lost all of your memories. You know what it's like to forget everything." He held her gaze, and she returned her own steadily. "I couldn't live with that. I'd already spent my whole life trying to forget. The rest of the wizarding world is already lost. Should we really lose anymore? Maybe trying to remember would be the best. Albus, Minerva…we've all done all we could. But some of us haven't chosen to give up just yet. I thought I did. But now…perhaps it's different."

It was silent for a moment, and then she dropped her gaze. "Do you think I still have magic?" she whispered.

"Perhaps. But…what use would it be?"

She looked up, a fierce look in her eyes. "What if I could return? What if we researched together? We could help find cures, and—"

"That's what I'd like to think too, Hermione," he interrupted softly. "But it isn't that easy. I know you'd try, and you wouldn't give up until everything was done. After all, you're a Gryffindor. But…we can't return. We both made choices long ago, and we can't turn back."

"But I didn't make that choice! Someone else made if for me!"

"That's the way this world works! Wizarding world, muggle world…in the end, reality's the same thing. It's not any easier there than it is here. It never was. Maybe magic does seem like such a…advantage. But it's not! In the end, we believed in it so much that it just didn't work anymore."

The light from a nearby lamp post flickered across her face, revealing an indiscernible look in her eyes. "You don't believe in magic?"

He looked away, staring at a point beyond her shoulder at a mosquito buzzing around the yellow glow of the lamp. After a few moments, it fluttered away, then bounced back from the darkness.

"No."

She stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes. "Severus…"

"What? Are you going to tell me to trust in hope too? Too many people have. It never worked. They said to trust your parents, but they betrayed me to the Dark Lord. They said to trust Albus Dumbledore, the great figure of love and power, but he made me his spy. They said to believe in Harry Potter, but it all brought down the end. What is there left to believe in? Hope? I hoped for things too many times in my life, all I've come to expect now is failure."

Her voice, desperate, cut through the darkness. "Won't you trust me?"

The words came as a shock. He swallowed at the impact those words had on him. Why? Why should he believe her? Her voice wavered as she spoke.

"Tell me…about you."

He couldn't believe it. Hadn't she asked him to tell her enough? He'd told her the story of her life, of the end of the wizarding world. Now she wanted to hear his own as well? It was somewhere in the back of his head that he realized his throat ached, but it had nothing to do with the time he had spent speaking. The lump in the back of his throat was proof enough.

"Please, Severus." She reached out, her fingertips coming to rest on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, recalling the many times the gesture had been made to him. His grandmother, his father, the dark lord, the headmaster…each time had been different. But this time, it didn't fail to move him like it had so many other times in the past.

"Why?" he roared, pushing himself away. "Haven't you had enough yet? I already told you everything! Did you ever think that there was a reason that I never told you all of…this?"

The emotions flitting across her face should have told him to stop, that she was fighting for control before she blew up like he did, but he was beyond noticing.

"Not everyone's willing to put their lives in the hands of anyone who's willing to take it. I've done my worth of trusting people, and I don't trust anyone anymore. Understand? I don't trust anyone."

Her eyes narrowed in anger as she leapt up. "So everything I ever did for you didn't mean anything? When I came over to keep you company, when I tended to you when you needed it? It's like you're just using me!"

"Why would I use you?" He shot back the phrase like it tainted him. "I don't need anyone."

"Oh really? So all of the letters to…to…Albus and Minerva, and all the conversations with me, they never even did anything for you? I was under the impression that people talked with other people for comfort, so that they wouldn't be lonely. And you say you like to be alone? You were the one who asked me to have dinner with you!"

"Oh, so I did, didn't I? Maybe it was because you asked me to be your friend! Isn't that what friends are for?" he mocked.

Her mouth dropped at the scathing tone in his words. "I didn't ask you for anything, Severus. I only offered what I had…everything I had. I put it into your hands because I trusted you! And guess what? You're the one who took it all!"

"Took what? I'm rather sure it was called 'asking me for help' when you ran to me crying!"

"Dammit, you took all of my trust, my capacity for love! What else did you think it was? Of course I ran to you crying! I thought you wanted me to run to you!"

"Why the hell would I want you to run to me?"

"Because I thought you cared!"

"And why would I care?"

The words hung in the air, slowly dissipating in the ominous silence.

"Maybe because…because…"

"Because what?" He cut in.

She shook her head, trying to explain but only managing a sigh. Collapsing back on to the bench, she bent her head forward so that her hair obscured her face. She mumbled something, but it came out muffled behind her hair.

"Speak up," he demanded impatiently. It was with foreboding that he realized that his old characteristics were beginning to surface again. No, no…they were supposed to be gone! This wasn't supposed to happen! But it was too late to change it now.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she tried again. Still, he couldn't make out her words. He stared at her bent head, then realized that her shoulders were shaking. A sparkle caught his eye as it fell to the ground.

A tear.

His eyes softened, and he quietly took a seat beside her. "Hermione?"

"I just don't want to argue anymore, okay?" Her voice was tired, laced with tears. She sniffled a bit.

He blinked away his own tears. How had it come down to this? He should have just let it all go; he should have never answered her probing questions. They all had cut too deep. Wasn't this the reason he had run away?

Instead, he just sat there, letting her absorb everything. How he wished he could travel back in time, just to make things right again.

"Severus?" a small voice beside him ventured.

He turned to her, masking the thoughts in his eyes.

"Why did you choose to tell me all of this? You never answered my question."

He paused. Should he tell her? He didn't trust himself not to hurt her again.

"Because I had to. Because it was my responsibility to make sure you knew, in the end."

"And everything you told me about yourself?" She turned to look at him, her eyes big and inquiring. He could see the trails the tears had left on her cheeks. He reached out to brush them away, the pad of his thumb gliding against the smooth skin of her cheek.

"I thought I didn't tell you anything about myself."

"No…" she laughed softly. However, it wasn't a laugh of happiness. Rather, it was one of regret. "No, you told me. A lot, in fact."

"Then what did I tell you?" His eyes captured hers. He could sense something behind the surface, but what it was, he could not tell.

"You told me what you believed in. And what you believed in me. You told me what I really wanted to know."

"I'm sorry, about everything, I…"

"No, shush, you can't be sorry about it all. That's a lot to feel responsible for."

"But at least, for my actions tonight, can you forgive me?"

She focused on a small chip of paint beside his knee. "My trust is like yours, I think. It has to be earned, Severus. You might have had it once, but now…I don't know if I can ever forgive you for what you've just said."

The force of the impact his words must have had on her hit him directly in the heart. If she had the capacity to forgive him, then he would be a fool to walk away. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.

She looked back at him, then, without another word, leaned forward to rest against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, staring off into the dark shadows of night.

As they held each other close, he knew deep inside that things couldn't ever be the same again.