Autumn

She ran as fast as she could from the wardrobe and the room, clutching Plato in one hand and her wand in another. Ron and Harry, she knew, had to be worried sick—not to mention her parents. And the exams she'd missed, being gone a whole year!

She was barely looking where she was going, so she did not see the Divination professor until she ran into her. "Oh—sorry—I'm all right—" she panted, and then she looked up into her face. "Your Majesty?" she whispered, and curtsied awkwardly.

"I think," said the professor after a long, frozen moment, "that Susan will do, under the circumstances."

"But—I have to—I've been gone a whole year—you know—"

"No," Susan said quietly. "Narnian time and Earth time do not run the same way here; your adventures have taken no time at all."

"Are Peter and Edmund and Lucy—"

"No," Susan cut her off, and a shadow crossed her face. "They are not here. Come with me, Hermione, I think we could both use a cup of tea."

OOOOOOO

They sat in Susan's apartments and drank mint tea, and Susan tried to explain all she knew of Narnian time and the doors between the worlds, when Hermione saw a picture of Peter on the mantle and felt her eyes tear up. "Will it be like this forever?" she asked.

"No," Susan said gently. "It will begin to fade, in a few days. The memories will not be as vivid, your feelings will be muted. You can even forget entirely, if you want to."

"Why would I want to?" Hermione asked, shocked, and Susan merely shrugged. "What about your brothers and sister?" Hermione pressed on. "Where are they?"

"A moment, please," Susan said, disappearing through the door, and Hermione sipped her tea and studied the picture of Peter. He was younger than her Peter, and yet his eyes were older, all the same.

"Here," Susan said, when she had returned. She was carrying a pile of books; they looked, Hermione noted with some surprise, as if they had never been opened. "Jack knew our story, or most of it; he guessed at the rest. It's—been changed, for the books, but it is still mostly true. And it is better than what I could tell you."

Hermione took the books wordlessly: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; Prince Caspian: The Return to Narnia; The Voyage of the Dawn Treader; The Silver Chair; The Horse and His Boy; The Magician's Nephew; and The Last Battle. "They're all about you?"

Susan shook her head. "I'm only in three of them; Peter is in four. Lucy gets five. You will not find yourself, I don't think."

"Ah," Hermione said, slowly running her fingers over the covers.

OOOOOOO

She read them that night by the light of her wand, curled in her four-poster with the curtains all shut. The books were what she wanted to hear, and yet they also were not: they did not answer the important questions. Was Peter happy, without her? Did he marry anyone else? What about Alambil—did she live out her days in Narnia, or return to Archenland? And the end—how was it that Peter and Edmund and Lucy could all be killed in a railway crash, of all things?

How soon was soon?

She fell asleep that night dreaming of Narnia, of its cool waters and dancing trees, and of Peter, who whispered in her ear and took her by the hand. But she did not see his face, in her dream, and when she woke up, she could not picture it.

Hermione was starting to forget.

finis

A/N: I still don't own anything. This entire thing was beta'd by T. Mad Hatter and Ill Ame, who are the most amazing people ever.

This chapter was so incredibly short because really, it's an epilogue. Um. And it really does continue from the last part, which is why they're posted together.

I had loads of fun writing this, and I hope you liked it—criticism always appreciated!