Hello! Another chapter, this one the explanation, I hope you like it! I might have another chapter up by tonight, I can only hope!

Please forgive me for any errors in names/spelling!

Enjoy it!

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Chapter Twenty-Six

It was with great caution that Hermione approached Professor Snape's desk after class. She had spent all day worrying about whether or not the Hangover Potion had worked or not - it was one she had never attempted before beyond theory. And Professor Snape was looking a little worse for wear that day. She hoped she hadn't messed up too badly - maybe she'd only added a little too much essence of mintrice to it, causing the main ingredient, Liondry, to pose its potency.

But then again, she thought with a smile, there was only so much one could do with a drunk Professor wandering around behind you.

Somehow though, she didn't think that would go down terribly well with the man who sat before her. "Miss Granger," he began, his voice a mumble.

"Yes, sir?" she asked politely.

"About last night…" he looked around the empty room, appearing nervous. "I was hoping… that you could refrain from telling anyone about what you may have witnessed last night - that you haven't told already."

She cleared her throat. "I've not told anyone, sir." She said quietly.

"I hope that you keep it that way," he murmured. "However, I must ask… that you tell me what happened last night."

Hermione's eyes flew wide at this. He didn't remember! Somehow he knew that she had been there, but he didn't remember anything else. She almost giggled, but managed to hold back from doing so when she saw the look on her Professor's face.

He was scared.

"You do not remember, sir?" she asked quietly.

"Not for the first time in my life, Miss Granger, no." He gave her might have passed for a smile before a shadow passed over his face and he turned his attention to the many jars that lined the dungeon walls. "Well, that is not entirely correct. I do remember some things."

"Would you tell me what you remember?" she asked gently. "I'll fill in the blanks."

He appears to think this over, his eyes still playing over the jars before looking at her again. "I do not remember much. I was granted the memory of you telling me you would do something, but not for points. I remember me holding onto your arms at one point. I remember someone saying something about a Greasy bat at another point." He paused, and Hermione watched colour appear on his deathly pale cheeks. "I… I… I, uh, I also remember standing behind you, watching you brew a potion - my Hangover Potion, I presume?" She nodded in confirmation before he continued. "I remember my hands… on your waist." He swallowed convulsingly and Hermione wondered if it was out of disgust for himself doing so, or the fact that it had been her. "I also remember standing by my bed about to undo my pants, with you there." He let out a small bark that might have been a bark, a far cry from the giggles she had heard the night before. "That is all. I was hoping, Miss Granger… that you could tell me if I well, misbehaved, to put it, in your presence, last evening?"

She gave him a wistful smile. "No sir, you did not misbehave." His head snapped up and he gave her a piercing look. "All of those things were... innocent," she chose her words carefully. While some of his actions may have been not so acceptable, she had understood later that it had simply been effects of the alcohol he had consumed, and had therefore refused to them bother her. But how could she explain that to him?

Snape cleared his throat. "Miss Granger, I find it incredibly uncomfortable having gaps in my memory. I would greatly appreciate it if you were to actually tell me what happened." He waved his hand at a chair near his desk. "Sit if you must!"

Hermione sat in the seat and turned to face her Professor. "Where would you like me to start, sir?" She asked, feeling nervous. How would he react?

"Anywhere, Miss Granger!" He snapped, causing Hermione to jump. "Just tell me what happened!"

"Well," she started, taking a deep breath. "I came to return your book, just after dinner. I arrived at your office to find you, well... drunk, sir. Instead of taking your book back, you just walked back into your chambers. I, well, I followed you." She ducked her head, not wanting to meet her eyes. "After putting your book back, I went to leave, but you stopped me. You told me that it was too quiet." A dark look passed over his face and Hermione wondered if it had just been the alcohol talking when he said that, or if he had really meant that. Pressing on, she told him about the conversation up until he remembered the potion.

"You offered me points if I would brew the Hangover Potion for you." She mumbled. She did not want to tell him about the seductive tone he had used to make the offer, the tone that had sent shivers up her spine. "That was when I told you that I would do it, but not for the points." A red tinge filled her cheeks. Repeating what she had said to him was much harder now that he was sober.

"Ah, that would add up correctly," he said stiffly, as if he did not believe her. Anger filled Hermione. What choice did he have? There was no one else in Hogwarts who could tell him!

Keeping herself in perfect control, she continued with her telling him of what happened. When she reached where he had talked about being a Slytherin and hating Potters, he had let out a snort. "Well, it's true," he muttered. Yet he drew in a sharp breath when she mentioned him putting his hands on her waist. Once again, she left out the seductive tone.

When she mentioned referring to himself as an evil, greasy bat, she fought to keep her voice steady.

"And what did you say, Miss Granger?" He asked in a velvety voice, his black eyes glittering.

"I told you that I do not see you as an evil, greasy voice, sir. After all, in my dreams from the fever, I did see you with feathered wings." She watched as a satisfied smirk slipped across his face. "That was when you had your hands on my hips again," she told him quietly and watched as he flinched. Not giving him time to make a remark, she plunged on.

When she reached the part where she had helped him into bed, Hermione watched as relief settled over him. She quickly finished up, hoping he wouldn't notice the red tinge in her cheeks at leaving out one small detail. She stood, preparing to leave, but he stopped her.

"What have you not told me," he asked quietly, rising from behind his desk, dark and menacing.

Shit, Hermione though, gazing at the floor. "Just before I left you," she whispered, her eyes focusing on a piece of beetle skin that lay by her feet. "I just..." she shrugged.

"Out with it!" He snapped, his voice rising. "What did you do? What did you touch? Stupid little Gryffindors like yourself just can't help themselves." He sneered at her.

Heat rose into her cheeks at his words. "Professor, I did nothing of the sort," she informed him, fighting again to keep her voice calm. "I kissed you on the forehead and left."

There. It was out.

Surprise showed on his face before he managed to close off again. "Is that all?" He asked stiffly. At her nod, he too nodded. "Thank you for your assistance, Miss Granger." He smoothed his robes and unbidden, a image of his naked chest flashed quickly through her mind. "You may leave now, surely your friends are waiting for you."

It took everything in her not to glare at him when a sneer appeared as he mentioned her friends. "Yes, sir," she said, looking directly into his black eyes. "However, I was hoping that I would be able to at some stage visit your book collection again. I was hoping to read about some more curses."

The sneer stayed on his face. "And why would you, Miss Granger, be so interested in Dark Magic." His voice took on that dangerously quiet edge

Hermione swallowed. "I believe there may be other uses for them, if properly used." She dared to tell him.

"Surely you have enough studying to do, with your NEWTs coming up."

"Yes, sir, I have." She agreed, annoyed at the insinuation. "Which also means that my time at Hogwarts is coming to a close, so I was hoping to do as much studying as possible." Upon saying this, she felt her throat tighten. She did not want to think about leaving the castle for good, she still wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do. Like the boys, once upon a time she had briefly considered becoming an Auror, but seeing the aftermath of the war, and the way the Ministry of Magic had bungled things up, even up the guide of Rufus Scrimgeour, she had decided against it.

"I suppose I can allow you the use of my books," Professor Snape said quietly. "However, your studying with have to take place down here." His nostrils flared. "I do not wish to have my private book collection dragged through the school."

It was with great effort that Hermione bit back a retort. He must have seen it because he smirked at her. "If you are still interested, you may do extra study of an evening, depending on my commitments as a Hogwarts Professor and what homework you have."

"Thank you, sir." She said breathlessly. "I won't take up too much of your time." At his nod, she turned and left the dungeon classroom.

Rushing up to dinner, Hermione could hardly believe that Snape had given her permission to use his books. While, yes, he had done so last week, she was sure he could have taken the invitation back after being so drunk in front of her. But he, like her, appeared to have taken his actions fairly well. She was so angry that her blushing had given away what she was most certainly not going to tell him. But now, he was going to allow her to use his private books.

Entering the Great Hall, she rushed over to where Harry, Ron and Ginny were seated. Lowering herself beside Ron, she found three pairs of eyes focusing on her.

"You were stuck down in Hell for ages." Ron commented around a mouthful of mashed potato.

"Mm," Hermione said non-committedly. She couldn't tell her friends that she was informing Snape of just what he had done the evening before whilst drunk. Upon returning from Snape's chambers the evening before, she had told the three that she had been in the library. It was much to her amusement that she knew they wouldn't have gone looking for her.

"What did Snape want?" Harry asked.

"Professor Snape," Hermione automatically corrected. "He just wanted to know if..." she desperately racked her mind for an excuse. "If he would be required to waste any time helping me catch up from the week that I missed."

"Shouldn't he have asked that last week?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Probably," Hermione said, reaching for some pork chops.

Ron gave a humpf, but everyone ignored him.

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Sitting in the dungeon classroom, Snape turned thoughts of what Miss Granger had told him over in his head again and again. He didn't doubt Miss Granger had told him the truth about the previous evening, but he didn't like some of the things that he heard. He had told her things that he never told anyone. Like he mentioned that he hated his family. What the hell had he been thinking? Oh, that's right, I wasn't thinking, his mind reminded him irritably.

With a groan, he hung his head. At least she hadn't reacted terribly towards him, and for that he was thankful. The last thing he needed to do was explain to Minerva why a student he had cared for now hated his guts. Not that he enjoyed using the word "cared". He had simply babysat an little brat through her illness. Yet somehow, he couldn't even bring himself to think of it like that.

So what was left?

Oh, fuck it, he thought, caring for her will just have to do.

He just wasn't sure if he was talking about caring for her through her illness, or caring for Hermione now.

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Thank you to all of my reviewers, you're all soooo wuvwy!

Oh, and I've had several people commenting on a review that was left by one particulary... kind person. I must say to this 'reviewer', thank you for the sore stomach, your review made me laugh ever so hard, thanks! Thanks for the effort!