Wee, another chapter! This one's first part is really quite crummy I think, very OOC for his-Snapeiness, but still, read on and enjoy!

All my reviewers, I love you all! I'm glad you liked the last chapter, was so, so thrilled, posting can be so nerve racking!

Oh, and a big hello Alyson ;-)

I've had it pointed out to me just how many word mix-ups I make, I'm just a muddled up person:-D

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hermione woke to darkness surrounding her and pressing into her. With a cry, she sat up from the soft bed where she lay. Where am I?She wondered desperately. This is not my bed! Fumbling around the pitch black that surrounded her, her hand hit a dressing table, and she managed to send something flying. She assumed they were books by the thud that hit the floor. As they made a thud, it really convinced her that she was not in her rooms; the thick carpet usually absorbed the sounds of her sending books flying in the night.

Fumbling around, she managed to find what she believed to be her wand. A whispered "Lumos" lit up the space around her. She was surprised to find herself tangled in satin sheets, covered by a satin doona, which had gold stars and moons emblazoned into it. With a gulp, she realised she recognised where she was. She'd been in Professor Snape's bed for an entire week; she was bound to recognise it.

Glancing around the bare stone wall, she saw that he was no where to be seen, but the door to the sitting room was open. It was also dark in there, Hermione could see past the door into the room. When a shadow loomed out of the darkness, she emitted another cry of shock.

Dressed entirely in black as usual, Professor Snape stepped into the light provided by her wand, causing her heart to begin beating furiously. "Miss Granger?" He inquired, looking down at her.

"Why am I here?" She demanded bluntly.

She watched as a small scowl passed over his face. "You fell asleep on my floor while I was off dealing with the Slytherins." His eyes met hers. "I did not realise you would take my instructions quite so literal and not even leave." His tone portrayed the amusement she knew he would be trying so hard to hide.

It came rushing back to her, that she had been sitting on his floor reading, writing, when she'd realised the late hour. "I was going to go back to my dormitory, I was." She lowered her head. "I'm sorry Professor; I didn't mean to fall asleep."

His back visibly stiffened at her apology. "I should have tried harder to wake you." He muttered. "I just thought it would be easier to allow you to rest, rather then deal with a grumpy witch." His lips quirked into what might have been a smile.

"Oh. Thank you." She whispered. Not daring to say anything else, she used her wand to light the torches on his walls, before muttering "Nox". He watched her the whole time, before she asked, "Did I wake you?"

Again he almost seemed to smile at her. "No, Miss Granger, you did not. I find it… difficult to sleep on the couch out there, unless I've had something to soften my senses – something I feel I may just give up for awhile." Hermione realised this was his uncomfortable pass at humour – he was clearly distressed by the situation. But all she could say was:

"Oh. I'm sorry for taking your bed, again."

His hand waved at her. "That is nothing new, Miss Granger, and I do believe I am the one who put you to bed." His eyebrow arched. Hermione felt her cheeks turn red at his statement, thinking of the Professor carrying her into his bed. Did he carry her? Or did he simply levitate her? Mentally, she gave herself a shake, trying hard to rid herself of the images in her mind.

"I should be returning to my dorm," she whispered, looking down at the satin bed cover.

He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him. "It's… late." He said, his voice slow and deliberate. "Perhaps it would be best if you were not to be… wandering about the castle at this hour." She opened her mouth to say something. "I know you are Head Girl, Miss Granger, however, if Filch or another teacher caught you wandering about with your book bag, surely it would raise some concern. Perhaps it would be best for you to spend the rest of the evening here."

Hermione could see the sense in his words, but could hardly believe the he was insisting that she spend the night in his rooms. It dawned her then, all the things he had said to her while he was intoxicated, the way he had invited her to use his rooms to study of an evening… he was lonely. At once Hermione felt pride swell through her, glad that he had invited her to spend the time with him, to help relieve him of his loneliness.

"Thank you, sir, that would be welcome." She smiled shyly at him. "However… if you find it hard to sleep on the couch, then allow me. You may have noticed that I don't have trouble sleeping in odd spots." She remembered all the little nooks and crannies she had fallen asleep in, especially during her third year, when she had pushed herself beyond exhaustion.

However, Snape would have none of that. "That will not be happening, Miss Granger. As technically you are a guest, it would be hardly fair if I were to have you sleep on a couch." His hand waved again.

"Sir, I must insist." She said, pressing the issue. His head turned away, clearly unsettled by her persistence. Had he seriously expected her to give in quite so easily? "I'll just have to go back to my room, won't I?" she asked. "I won't be able to sleep if I know you're not comfortable." The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"It didn't seem to matter before," he muttered, looking at everything in the room except for his bed. She was pleased; she hadn't seen him look so out of place since she'd regained her full health. However, she herself was at a loss as to why he wouldn't just let her sleep on the couch – it wasn't as if he was ever bothered with the comfort level of students before, why should he start now? She suspected it was Slytherin pride that was behind his unwillingness to give in.

Too bad her Gryffindor bravery appeared to run just as strong. There really was only one solution. "We'll both just have to sleep in the armchairs then."

He started at her words, his black eyes finally meeting hers with a look of shock. "W-what?" He sputtered.

"Well, since we both insist on being uncomfortable for the other's comfort, how about we just even it out and both be uncomfortable?" she said, both of her eyebrows rising. "It's the perfect solution… unless you would be willing to share the bed, therefore ensuring comfort."

His eyes fixed hers with a piercing gaze, before he strode from the room. Hermione watched him leave, wondering at herself and what she had said. In all honesty, she did not want to leave the warmth of the bed in exchange for the cold, leather armchairs, but… could she share a bed with him?

Before she could do anything though, Snape returned to the room, carrying a dark blue blanket. He shook it out and laid it over the other side of the bed from where she lay. "I will not be having you be unnecessarily uncomfortable, Miss Granger." He said quite curtly. Hermione stared at him in pure shock as he pulled the blanket back and settled onto the bed, lying upon the doona. The tone was right, the words were not. She had expected the armchairs, that he would take joy out of seeing her uncomfortable… but then, why did he put you in his bed in the first place a little voice in her head asked.

"Well, it's not as if this is anything new," she retorted, turning to face the wall and using her wand to extinguish the lamps. A chuckle greeted her words. "Though I'm not entirely sure about the comfortable part."

She felt him sit up straight as soon as the words fell from her lips. "Are you uncomfortable?" He asked, an edge of his voice. "Would you like me to leave?"

"No, no, Professor, lie down! I was only joking." She rolled her eyes at him. "I just meant that…" she bit her lip. "Well, I don't know. I suppose unexpected is more the word to be used." She mused. The situation seemed incredibly unreal to her, and she kept expecting to wake up and find it all as some weird dream. This couldn't be the Professor Snape she knew.

"This was foolish of me," he muttered.

"No, this was… kind of you."

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Many, many floors above them, perched high in the Gryffindor tower, Harry Potter was unsettled. For the third time in a week, one of his best friends was missing. Oh, he knew that Hermione was no stranger to wandering off, but she usually returned in an hour or so, at least before curfew, usually carrying some thick book, eyes shining about the research she'd just completed. And yet now… she'd been missing since just after dinner, and by one in the morning, still hadn't returned. He knew that she couldn't possibly have been in the library – Madam Pince did have limits after all! Yet she wasn't in the Gryffindor Tower, a note on her door had informed the house that she was out, but the note had not been removed.

Despite the war being over, Harry could not help but feel over protective of his friends, he had seen so many perish in the war. He was almost mad at Hermione for wandering off and not returning, after their little chat they'd had not long back about the after effects of war. Did she just not realise that her friends would be going out of their skin with worry?

It was at three in the morning that Harry gave in, that he decided to do what he never wanted to do – use the Marauder's Map to find Hermione, to spy on her. He used his worry as a justification. Besides, she'd never have to know…

Making sure the curtains were drawn tightly around his bed, Harry sat up and lit his wand with "Lumos". He pulled the Marauder's Map from under his pillow (something he had begun doing with the war – in case he ever urgently needed to know where anyone was), and studied it closely.

His first port of call was the library, but as he suspected, it was empty. He sucked in a breath – he had hoped so hard that Hermione would be there, that he would see her figure tucked up in a corner some where, and he'd be able to just pull the invisibility cloak over his head and go wake her. But if she wasn't there, then where in Hogwarts could she be? He skimmed over the astronomy tower, but only Peeves was there. The owlery, no such luck either. He checked each other the corridors, the classroom, but to no avail. Quickly he double checked her own room to make sure she hadn't returned, but it stood without a dot labelled with her name.

Without much hope, he checked the teacher's quarters – perhaps she had gone to talk to McGonagall, or even Flitwick about a project and had fallen asleep. His frustrations grew and grew as her little ink dot was no where to be found, and he was soon running out of places.

A feeling of dread filled Harry as he remembered last time he had found Hermione one the map, of where she had been. No, she couldn't possibly be there, couldn't be spending time down there. Well, spending the night down there it would seem. Slowly, carefully, he directed the light and his eyes towards the private chambers of "Professor Severus Snape".

Oh, how Harry wished his eyes were deceiving him, and that the map was lying. But he knew the map never lied, it showed everyone at anytime, anywhere in Hogwarts and never lied – it had even picked up Peter Pettigrew in his third year. But now… no, he would not believe that Hermione and Snape were in the same part of the school let alone the same room at this time of night.

Icy shock ran through Harry's veins as he watched the unmoving dots, so close, so very close in Snape's chambers, in Snape's bedroom. What on earth was Hermione playing at? Thoughts, images, idea swirled though Harry's head, every one of them he tried to dismiss. With a furious whisper of "mischief managed", he folding the map, extinguished his wand and threw himself onto the bed, face down, trying hard to blank his mind from what he'd seen on the map.

It couldn't be possible, he told himself. There was no way that Hermione would be sleeping with a greasy bat like Professor Snape.

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Once again, Hermione woke, startled. Thankfully, the torches were already lit, and she could see the room around her. Something rippled through her as she realised she had just spent the night in Professor Snape's rooms, something she chose not to examine.

The space beside her was empty, there was nothing there to say that a man had slept there, and for that Hermione was glad – perhaps she could convince herself that their midnight conversation was nothing but a dream, that he had in fact spent the night out on the uncomfortable couch. No, she didn't wish that.

Stepping out of the bed, fear ran through her body before the icy cold dungeon floor could take effect on her warm feet. She remembered last time she had stepped out of his bed and approached him; he had become a nasty creature in direct contrast to the man she had spent the week under the care of. Would that happen again today?

Thanking whoever was listening for the fact that it was Saturday and she needn't have bothered with making it to classes on time, she stood, stretching beside the bed. She realised she was still wearing the muggle clothing she had donned last night before descending to the dungeon, but her shoes were missing. She was thankful for this – she didn't know what she could have done if she'd woken up wearing something different to what she last remembered.

Shuffling out into the sitting room, she found it empty, and the door to his office closed, but the door that lead to his private potions lad quite open. Daringly, she stepped out in the little corridor. Once again, the door to her right was firmly shut, the door to her left open. She could see him bending over a cauldron through the doorway. He was stirring, and she knew better then to interrupt the stirring process if it was a potion that needed to be stirred a specific number of times.

Moving away from the lab, she returned to his bedroom, and quickly put on her shoes, and cast a cleaning spell on the bed, not knowing what else to do. This certainly felt awkward. Stop it, she growled at herself. There was nothing to feel awkward about. Professor Snape was simply being kind last night. Biting her lip, she walked back to the private lab, where he was standing before the cauldron, just watching it.

"Sleep well, Miss Granger?" he asked, not taking his eyes of the cauldron and catching her by surprise.

"Yes, sir," she responded. "I must thank you, once again."

A hand waved at her. "Do not mention it Miss Granger. And I mean that literally." His black eyes rose to meet hers, and she understood the warning. "You'd best return to your room now, Miss Granger." He paused. "Thank you for your company yesterday evening. Perhaps you will return to complete your work."

She allowed herself to smile at him. "Undoubtedly, I will. You've quite an impressive book collection." She found herself looking at the thick black books resting upon a shelf. Quickly, she glanced away, hoping that he hadn't noticed her looking. "Thank you, again. Have a good weekend, Professor." She turned and left quietly as he returned to his potion.

Knowing it was early yet, not quite time for breakfast, she felt confident that not too many students would be up, lest her friends, who had a bad habit of sleeping right up until they were in danger of missing breakfast. She easily slipped through the portrait hole and moved into the common room. A few students were shuffling down the stairs, yawning. They didn't pay any attention to her, and for this she was glad. She could easily say that she was out taking a morning walk.

Moving towards her private room, she was surprised to see a large something at her bedroom door. On closer inspection, she found Harry propped up against the door, his head resting again his chest, his mouth half open, his glasses sliding down his nose, his hands clutching the Marauder's Map. Thankfully it was blank

Hermione's mouth fell open as she understood the scene before her. Harry had been looking for her on the map, she'd been gone all night… he had surely seen where she was. Leaning forward, she gave him a poke to wake him. He gave a startled cry before shaking his head. Helping him up, she noticed he seemed to wonder what he was doing for a second, but then a look of anger crossed his face as she led him into her room, stepping over the pile of notes on the floor.

She turned to face him, hoping to speak before he got a chance. But before she could say anything, words burst forth angrily from his mouth.

"Hermione, how could you!"

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What's Hermione going to tell Harry? Hope you like it, it will be appearing in the next chapter (duh Silver!).

Thank you everyone for the constant support, you're all truly wonderful!

I wish I could say more, so I'll just leave it like that.