Yay, another chapter, hope everyone likes it. It's once again more of a thought based chapter, which I almost prefer for Snape – he doesn't seem the time to ramble! (unlike me, heehee!)

But before you all read, take some time to congratulate the wonderful JTBJAB on getting accepted into uni, congrats! --Throws some confetti at you--

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

That Wednesday, Hermione made yet another trip down in Snape's rooms. She was greeted by a stony faced Professor who led her wordlessly into his rooms.

"I have rounds to do at curfew, Miss Grange," he informed her coldly. "Which means you will have to leave before then. It'd simply hate having to take points from you."

She did not flinch as she met his cold gaze. "As Head Girl, sir, that curfew does not apply to me, as I too have rounds to complete." She retorted as calmly as she could, despite feeling shaken. Why did Professor Snape have to keep going hot and cold, in a matter of speaking? And if he was going to be so cold to her, why was he going to allow her to use his books and rooms?

As she pondered his great collection of books, her mind really did question why he had allowed her back into his rooms. Selecting a book on rarely known counter curses, she chose to settle herself on the floor near the fireplace, setting the book on a small table and pulling her parchment and quill from her back. Snape was standing beside one of the armchairs, watching her. When she was seated, he turned on his heel and strode into his office, leaving the adjoining door open so they could easily see each other.

Choosing to ignore the Professor, and keeping her focus entirely on her work, it was with great shock that Hermione looked up two hours later to find the dark man standing beside her, surveying her work through a curtain of black hair. Folding her hands in her lap, she politely waited for the harsh comments to come. Yet they never did.

"That is quite interesting work, Miss Granger," he offered in his silky tones, before telling her that she had to leave. Surprised at the almost compliment that he had given her, she quietly packed her things away before following him from his chambers.

"Thank you, sir," she said once out in the corridor. She turned and walked away, but before she turned the corner leading up to the Entrance Hall, she gave him one final look, and was shocked by the expression that she saw upon his face.

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Despite his heart not being into it as usual, Severus Snape did still enjoy walking the corridors of Hogwarts at night, scaring any students he came upon. Of late, it had been much better then attempting to sleep, or sitting in the cold loneliness of his rooms.

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Snape regretted having to do his rounds. Having Miss Granger in his rooms, albeit reading and silent, had been a most welcome thing. The presence of another had stopped his mind from constantly reminding him of just how alone he was. While she may not have paid him a single drop of attention, nor had he to her, his body and mind had been so painfully aware of her presence, sitting by the fire and reading and scratching away at her parchment. He had wished terribly that nine o'clock had not come around, that he could keep the young witch for the rest of the night.

Once or twice, he had strongly wished he had the courage to go and sit with her, read with her, give her suggestions and hear her thoughts. Yet all he could do was sit in his office, pretending to mark the sixth-year essays, accompanied by the many slimy jars that adorned his walls. He could see the young woman out the corner of his eyes; he had admired the small crease in her forehead, a testimony of her intense concentration.

Part of him had hoped that she would ask for his help; raise her hand as it had in class. Another part of him had scolding him for hoping such a thing and reminded him of just how annoying she was, just how much he hated having to answer her questions in class. Silently he pondered which was the better part of him. He could not decide.

Striding down the hallway, fighting as he had all year to keep his stride smooth, he ignored the portraits the lined the corridor around him. He kept his eyes peeled for any sort of moment, staying as silent as he could. Making a turn, he headed for the school library, knowing the amount of times perfect little Potter had foolishly run amok in there after hours. It irked Snape to no ends that the little brat had an invisibility cloak, allowing him to hide so easily. Thankfully, the little brat was never so quiet; he simply couldn't keep his mouth shut half the time.

However, it was infuriating just how often the child could evade him. Oh, there were so many things he knew Potter and his friends were behind, but there was hardly a way he could prove it without looking like a biased man and bringing upon him the hate of an entire castle. Not that he didn't have that already – he knew it was there, no matter how much they tried to hide it. But he preferred it that way. It was easier to pretend it wasn't there when they pretended to hide it.

It wasn't as if he welcomed any of them into his life with open arms. Or had any intention to. Except Miss Granger.

Snape nearly tripped over his own feet like a foolish child as that thought passed through his mind. He didn't have any idea where it came from, and was incredibly unnerved to find that it didn't bother him once he really thought about it.

Miss Granger certainly didn't seem like any of her other peers. Anyone else who had caught Snape drunk would have most likely taken advantage of the situation, or at the very least run off to the Headmistress. Yet she had stayed with him, in fact, she had looked after him, in a matter of speaking. Made him a potion, helped him into bed… no, he would not think beyond that point.

A movement up ahead provided a welcome distraction. Moving quickly and silently, Snape made his way up the corridor, where a nervous red head was darting away.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr Weasley," Snape's voice cut through the cold air in the corridors, and the boy ahead of him stopped dead and turned to face him. "for being out and about after curfew." Snape couldn't but let a cruel smile creep across his face as the boys shoulders slumped upon seeing him. "Explain yourself, Weasley," he demanded with a sneer.

Blushing, the boy opened his mouth. "I'm sorry Professor; I was just going to the Gryffindor Common Room." He said.

Snape sneered. "Weasley, it is fifteen minutes past curfew, so where are you coming from."

"I was looking for Hermione, sir." The usual arrogant swagger was coming from Weasley's mouth, making Snape's sneer become more pronounced. "After dinner she said she was going to do some study, so we thought she'd be in the library. But she wasn't back by curfew…"

"So you thought you'd play the arrogant hero and go rescue her before she lost points for the house?" Snape sneered down at the boy. "However thick you are, Weasley, did it ever occur to you that Miss Granger is Head Girl? That curfew does not apply to her, and that she too has rounds to complete?" He nearly choked on his words, realising they were almost exactly what the little witch had said to him earlier.

A look dawned on the Weasley boy's face. "I thought not," Snape commented, his lip curling up. "Get back to your common room now, Weasley, before you lose your precious house another lot of points."

Watching the boy scamper off down the hall, it was with shock that Snape realised that Miss Granger had not told her best friends where she really was, where she was studying. Beginning to stride down to the corridors again, he couldn't help but wonder why that was. It seemed unlike the trio to keep anything from each other – why would she keep something as simple as where she was studying a secret.

With a scowl he realised exactly why she didn't want to tell the idiots – she was after all, spending time with Snape, willingly, if only to gather information. Surely that would be a most embarrassing thing to admit. Frustration for the young woman raced through his veins. An intelligent witch like Hermione – Miss Granger! – should be allowed to study where she wishes, without fearing embarrassment. As drunk as he had been, he had been telling the truth when he admitted that she could go far. She shouldn't be letting something like embarrassment be stopping her at this early age. The way he had been treated when he was her age had scarred him for life; he knew all too well the results of being on the receiving ends of embarrassing situations.

Instantly Snape jerked his hand away from his left forearm when he realised he'd been unconsciously rubbing it. Yes, he knew the price…

All too often he wondered if he had been a different man if that stupid Potter and his admirers had treated him better. While, yes, he had been a dark boy, growing into a darker man, would he have done some of the awful things he'd done if James Potter hadn't been so cold and mean to him? Would he have joined the ranks of the Dark Lord if he wasn't so power hungry, wanting to badly to learn just how he could revenge on his tormentors?

Frustration turned to red hot anger, which he took out on a suit of armour nearby, sending it crashing to the floor in a fit of rage. When he was calm again, he straightened the suit and moved off before Filch found him.

Striding into his private quarters, he gave a laugh. While he may have turned so evil, so awful, it was of great irony that he was the only one left, besides Remus Lupin. James Potter, perished so many years ago, followed by Sirius Black only two years ago. Less then a year ago, Peter Pettigrew had finally been slaughtered, at his Masters side. Yet, he was standing, still standing, still living. And that was the way he wanted to keep it for now. It was sick kind of ambition to show that the boys who had filled him with so much hate, so much anger that he was better then them all; that he had done something none of them had: he had survived the war. Remus Lupin, while never holding the wand directly at Snape's face, had never put an end to it, making him just as bad as the rest of them. But Snape had to face that he was going to be teamed with Remus Lupin in life – they were the only survivors of a generation tangled with the Dark Lord.

But what did it all matter? Now it was all over, and Severus Snape was the man he was today. What mattered is that he could perhaps help one young witch become everything she possibly could – he would not allow the embarrassment of telling her friends that she was working with the "greasy git" stop. Perhaps there wasn't a war on their doorstep at the moment, but the world was still a nasty place.

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Snape was seated at desk on Friday when Hermione Granger gave his office door a small knock. He was in the middle of correcting the test he had given the Seventh-Years earlier that day. He had already passed hers, and she had, as usual, answered everything correctly.

Opening the office door, it was with a mixture of surprise and pleasure that he found her standing here, clutching a pile of parchment and a quill. He had not seen her since Wednesday, when he had made the silent vow to help her in any way he could. Greeting her and leading her into his sitting room, she noticed how she kept her head down, her brown hair obscuring her face. He almost reached over to shift it out of the way, but instead offered her once again access to all of his books. He watched as pleasure slipped over her face, and he smiled to himself before returning to his correction.

An hour later, there was a knock at his office door again. Looking at the time, he was somewhat surprised – it was rare for anyone to come to his office door at this time, even if it were only eight o'clock in the evening. Making sure once again there was no chance anyone could see into his private quarters from the office door, he wrenched it open.

A second year Slytherin stood upon the threshold. Snape recognised her as Alyssa Boyd, a student had dealt with once or twice.

"Professor, there's something going wrong in the common room, there's a fight." The young Slytherin informed him.

Snape snarled. He did not wish to be interrupted from his work to deal with petty students who were too stupid to deal with anything themselves. At the beginning of the year, he had well and truly given up on his house. But now that Miss Boyd stood in front of him, he realised he had little choice but to leave.

But Miss Granger…

Telling Miss Boyd to wait a moment, he threw the door of this office closed and strode into his sitting room, his black robes swirling around him. Apparently Miss Granger hadn't noticed that someone was there, she was quite clearly absorbed in her work.

"Miss Granger!" He barked. Her head shot up to look at her. "As much as this pains me, I have to go the Slytherin common room." He snarled, running hand down his front to smooth his robes. "I should not be gone any longer then a moment or two, therefore I see it as unfitting to remove you from you work. You may stay here, but I must warn you, do not move from where you are, or I shall know about it." Upon seeing her shocked nodding, he spun on his heel and stormed from the room.

Accompanying Miss Boyd back to the Slytherin common room, he found pandemonium there. Several students were standing at either end of the room, shouting at each other, wands raised. Not quite able to believe what he was seeing, he quickly forgot about the witch in his rooms and began to shout, ordering for calm to be returned.

Much to his disgust, it took well over an hour and a half for things to be resorted, for all the victims of a physical damage to be healed, for points to be deducted (something he rarely did to Slytherins), and for detentions to be handed out (something even rarer). His frustration was at it's height as he stormed back along the corridors and into his private quarters.

Seeing Miss Granger's head resting on the table, he had forgotten that he had left her there so long ago, with the order of not to move. Why had she taken it to that extent? "Silly witch," he murmured, making his way over to her sleeping form. Her hand rested on the parchment beneath her head, and she was snoring quietly.

Gently he shook her shoulder, dislodging some hair, causing it to fall over her face. This time, he could not resist temptation but to gently tuck them back behind her ear. She did not rouse during this, or when he gave her a gentle shake again. He knelt beside her, his dark robes pooling around him. "Miss Granger," he muttered, shaking her shoulder again. She murmured something indistinctive and one hand rose to wave aimlessly.

Something flicked inside Snape as he realised that he could not wake her, nor did he want to. Yet he couldn't let her rest in such an awkward position, her legs tucked up under her, her body cramped. Making a rash decision, he moved closer to her.

She still did not wake as he gently gathered her into his arms and lifted her into the air, tucking her against his chest. In fact, she rubbed her head on his shoulder. Feeling uncomfortable, Snape considered laying her down on the couch, but thought better of it. With yet another rash decision, he very carefully carried her into his bedroom, using magic to pull the covers back of his bed and laid her down. As he laid her down, she stretched like a cat, and slid her hands under the pillow, nuzzling her head into it. Before he could stop himself, his fingers reached out and brushed some strands of hair away from her face again.

Use magic to remove her shoes, he tucked the covers of the bed up. Once more, his hand touched her smooth, soft face before he left the room to continue with his marking.

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Wee! Something different! Hope you like the softie side that's coming out in Snape and that you understand just why I'm making him be this way :-)

Thanks for all your reviews! Keep them coming, pwease!