Hello! Long time, no post, it would seem! I haven't posted for a few days thanks to a GIANT media project that I had to complete, but it's now down and looking fantastic. I handed it in yesterday, thank you to everyone who wished me luck with that.

Stick with me on this chapter, I'm really quite tired, but wanted to get something up, so I really hope that you can deal with it. Not much of a plot advancement, true to my style. It's more about why Hermione and Ron never hooked up, and what Severus' thinking about his invitation. I really hope you all enjoy it! Hopefully I'll be back to posting roughly a chapter every day as of now, I hope they get better!

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, everyone who reads my story, I love you! Chocolate to all of you, and those who don't like chocolate, I have plenty of other things on offer!

Enjoy:-)

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Chapter Twenty-One

Long after Professor Snape had vanished from her view, Hermione continued to gaze out over the castle grounds before her. Even when it became to dark to see all that much, she continued to look.

She was no longer sure what to think of her Potions Professor, who turned hot and cold whenever he saw fit to, with no explanation in between. Surly in the classroom, almost friendly when she was ill, icy when she had recovered, and now after taking her on a broomstick ride far above the school grounds, had offered her the use of his private book collection! Hermione didn't want to think about what would happen if she were to really venture down into the dungeons: would he turn into the icy man again.

Unconsciously touching her cheek where his hand had briefly lay, she couldn't help but imagine what it would be like, spending the evening in his rooms. Oh, the books he'd have! She could read, and learn so much. The assignments she'd be able to complete with such ease, such information. Perhaps, sometimes, he might even sit with her, she dared to think, and lend a hand in her work.

Hermione shook her head. As if that would occur, Professor Snape helping a student from Gryffindor, let alone perfectly capable of working on her own. He had only helped her at McGonagall's request, she imagined, while she was taken ill by the BlueCloud Fever. Yes, that's right, McGonagall must have asked him to look after her. And the only reason he had taken her on that flight this evening was... well, to be honest, she had no idea. Was it to make up from tossing her from his rooms?

Well, whatever the reason, she admitted to enjoying the flight very muchly. She smiled, thinking of the view she had witnessed from that height on a broomstick. It was something so beautiful she wasn't sure if it were real, the open landscape with the lowering sun flicking light and causing shadows across the world. And to share that type of experience with Professor Snape...

She wasn't sure to think about the idea that she had just been flying with Professor Snape. Sure, she had done so in her dreams, but that wasn't really flying, nor something she even had real control over, she couldn't make the choice about whether she wanted to be there or not - tonight she had had the choice, and she had taken it. And it had been a most exciting experience. The shock of being seated so close to Professor Snape, having him hold on to her so tightly was replaced by the fear of soaring through the air around the pitch. If it hadn't have been for the arm wound around her waist, she was sure she would have fallen. But his deep voice whispering in her ear, coaxing her into looking around, seeing the beauty that surrounded them, had sent shivers running up and down her spine.

No, she quickly told herself, it was only because of the view. Nodding her head, only to herself, she worked hard to convince herself of this. But a knock of the door stopped her before she was able to convince her mind of such thing.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the worried faces of Harry and Ron.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, as if he was surprised to see her. Which Hermione thought was very stupid, considering he had been knocking on her door. "When did you get back? We knocked on your door bout half hour ago, and you weren't here."

"Yes, so?" Hermione responded, feeling rather impatient. "I've had half an hour to return."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, how did you come back?" He asked. "We've been sitting in the common room, waiting for you. Wouldn't we have seen you?"

Hermione felt a cold flush hit her. How could she tell them that she had come back through her window; that she had been out flying with their most hated Professor. Knowing she couldn't, and feeling terrible about what she was about to say, she responded, "Sorry Harry, I've been here since dinner." She looked at the floor, hoping the boys would take her blush as the blush or hiding from them, not lying to them. "I just didn't feel like coming down to dinner, and I didn't really feel like being bullied into it." She shot a sharp look at Ron.

Harry gave her a small, knowing smile, which she chose to ignore, instead, turning and making her way back over to the window, where she perched on the window seat and turned back to gaze out at the night sky.

"Are you still upset about Snape?" Ron asked bluntly.

"Professor Snape." Hermione automatically corrected, as she had spent the past seven years doing.

"Yes, him." Ron sad shortly. "He's just an asshole, Hermione." He took a chocolate frog out of his pocket and unwrapped it.

"Ron." Harry warned, giving him a glare. Hermoine realized that neither of them had told Ron about their conversation they night before. She also knew that it wouldn't matter, the boy would never understand. She chose just to keep gazing out the window.

"Anyway, Hermione, we just thought we'd come and check up on how you are." Harry gave her a warm smile as she turned to face him, which she returned. "Did you want anything to eat? We could go down to the kitchens, if you want."

Hermione stood up and picked up her cloak. "No, thank you Harry, I should be making my rounds now." Quickly, she led the boys from her room, and locked the door with her own special spell. The Head Girl and Boy were able to lock the door with a spell that they desired, a spell they could share with their friends, if their friends ever need to access her rooms in an emergency. Shocking even her self, she was yet to inform Harry and Ron of both this fact, and the spell to her room. She did not have to fear them finding out without her telling them; after all, they'd never bothered to read Hogwarts: A History.

Bidding the boys goodnight, Hermione stepped through the Portrait Hall and out into the cold corridors of the castle. As Head Girl, she was required to make rounds of the corridors, and supervise the comings and goings of the students to make sure that there was no school rules being broken. Ron had once quipped that no one could do a better job then Hermione, as she knew every school rule three times over. She had told him that it was about time that he figured out a few for himself. Harry had just sat there and laughed at both of them.

Once, at the start of the year, Harry had attempted to tell Hermione that her and Ron should get together. After spending much time over the Summer with the boy, and seeing him through the other side of the war, Hermione had learnt just how immature the boy could be. Sure, she admitted that last year she had experience what may have been a crush on the boy - she had certainly been hurt when he'd started literally slobbering all over Lavender Brown - but now, she knew it had been for the best that she hadn't dated him. Through the war, while he had always been there for herself and Harry and all of the Order, Hermione found his judgment clouded too much for her liking, and too many times, when no one had been paying attention, he had done some foolish, rash things that had broken her feelings for him, let her see him only as a friend.

Yet, now that he was dating Karla from Ravenclaw, she was ever so happy that she had not followed Harry's suggestion, as he was happy with her. And she was happy with him, even if she was lonely. Too many evenings were spent in the library, even when she didn't have work to do. Ron and Harry were off with their girls, and she, having no one else, had only been able to turn to books and duty, as she always had.

Pushing those thoughts away, but not allowing them to turn to the evening's earlier activities, Hermione set off through the corridors, keeping an eye out for students as she went.

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Hours later, Snape settled himself into his leather couch, pulling a book open in his lap. Though his head being lowered to read, his eyes could not read the words on the page. His mind kept flitting to the flying experience, the only time he had ever shared a broom with another. He couldn't deny it had been a wonderful experience, having a young witch so close to him, hearing her excited shrieks as they flew together.

Yet, Snape couldn't help but wonder what had compelled him to do so, had given him the idea to teach a witch to fly, a witch who had never done so in her life, something she had once admitted, while laying in his bed that she was petrified of. He knew why she had agreed, the idea of learning something new.

But then there was the issue that he had offered her the use of his private books, to ask him any questions she wished to ask. What on earth had possessed him to do that, to invite the annoying girl to invade his private rooms whenever she wished? Part of him hoped to all Hell that the witch would not be brave enough to enter his rooms. He snorted at that - a Gryffindor, not be brave, and one like her, not pass up the chance to learn? That was completely unheard of!

Most of him, however, wished that she would come down into his rooms, sit with him and research. While she was ill, he had found that she had some amazing ideas and knew she longed to research them, in only she could get access to the books in the library. And now, he had offered her the chance to read every single one of the books that she longed for. It was without doubt that she would come, with the lure of the knowledge she would find within his rooms. Snape could not find much of him that was not liking the idea of opening his door to her. Only the fact that she was a student.

Severus Snape was not accustomed to spending time with females outside of his classroom that were students. In fact, he was not really accustomed to spending time with females at all. After this evening's flight, and the way he had felt his body react to holding the witch so tightly against him, he feared what would happen if she were to begin spending time in his rooms with him as an evening. A sick witch was one thing, but a healthy witch spending time with him because she wanted to was rare. He could not allow himself to react in any sort of way that did not involve a strict teacher/student relationship, the results would be disastrous.

Perhaps it would be best if he changed his mind, if he did not allow the witch to use his private domain. He couldn't risk it. But how to deter her?

Reaching for the bottle of firewhiskey that sat upon the table of his sitting room, he felt a wave of coldness rush over him.

The perfect weapon, he thought. The perfect deterrent. Coldness.

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Wow... that last part feels pretty horrible, I don't like it. I wonder what's going to happen..

Hey, I heard a rumor via email that writer's aren't allowed to post replies to reviews along with their stories anymore, and it got me a little spooked, so I'm a little worried. Does someone want to email me and confirm if it's true or not. I feel a little silly, but, hey, you never know! I never usually listen to forwards, but as I'm not really sure of the FF stuff as of yet (despite 21 chapters now!), I just wanna be sure :-)

Thanks for reading!