Hello! A day late, yet again, I'm hopeless and I know it! Lol. Third last chapter, kinda scary :-)

Hope you all enjoy this one, and the only thing I have to say in defence for one part is that: who knows what the Slytherin's do in the Common Room when no other house is looking, and who knows what lengths they'll go to get what the want… even taking certain lessons!

Enjoy!

Edit: I forgot to say what happened to the... stuff...

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Chapter Forty-Six

Stepping aside to let the younger witch enter his chambers, Snape noticed that she was chewing on her bottom lip and playing with the ends of her hair - signs that he learned seven years ago meant that she was nervous. In her hands, she clutched the book he hoped held the answers to what ever was going on between their minds. Part of him wasn't sure if he wanted to know, as he looked upon the expression on her face. Clearly she had already read the book. What did it say?

"You did not sleep, Miss Granger?" he asked as they entered his sitting room, gesturing to the dark circles that lay beneath her eyes that he had noticed an hour before at breakfast.

She shook her head slowly. "No, I did not." Without waiting, she took a seat on his leather couch, sitting the book in her lap and covering it tightly with her hands. "I'm a little scared, sir."

His eyes widened at her admission. "Scared, Miss Granger? Whatever have you got to be scared of?" Had he intended to sound so soft, his voice not filled with the usual contempt he saved for snivelling students in the corridors, students were homesick, hadn't done their homework, had been bullied, or better yet, had been scared by him? He did not know, but there none, on a gentleness he could hardly remember he had. He prayed that her fear, for once, wasn't of him.

"It's all over in less then two days, sir," she whispered, bowing her head, trying to stop him from seeing the tears that had already formed, that he had already noticed. "I'm leaving Hogwarts, sir, and I've still no idea what to do." As he watched, a hand rose to her face, clearly making an attempt to dash away tears. "I always dreamed that I'd get to this point, and know exactly what I wanted to do, where I wanted to, when I could do it. And now it's here..."

"You do not know." He stated for her quite simply. She nodded meekly, still keeping her eyes on the book, her long bushy hair falling over to take all chances he might have had of seeing her face. Not that he wanted to. He hated dealing with whimpering women, and their petty problems. He tried to tell himself that it was the same for this woman. He tried to tell himself that all he really wanted to do was telling her to grow up, to leave. Yet, some part of him wanted to walk to the couch, raise a hand to brush aside her hair, and wipe away her tears.

Neither of those two parts of him won, and he stayed standing by the fireplace, unsure what to do.

"No, I don't." She shook her head. To his surprise, her face rose, and so did her hands, pushing aside her brunette locks, allowing him to see her tear stained face. "You'd think it would be so easy."

Before he could stop himself, he moved to the couch, and extended a finger, pressing it below her chin and encouraging her to look in him the eyes. He swallowed, seeing her red eyes. "No one thinks it's easy, and those who do are fools. This is important, Hermione, and too many made up their minds in year five, choosing subjects they thought were lead them to where the want to go, only to find at the end of their seventh year that they cannot go there, that they are trapped in their decision, a decision they no longer want to follow." He held her eyes.

"I just wish I could make a choice." She gave him a smile. "I'm the only one who hasn't applied for a job, everyone thought I'd be the first. But now, here I am, the last of my year with no idea. Everyone else is only thinking of what they'll be wearing to the Ball tomorrow."

Ah, the Graduation Ball. Hogwarts had not had an official Ball for the occasion for many years, but Minerva had decided that it was time to begin holding them again. "We need to celebrate more" she had said when she had become Headmistress of Hogwarts at the fall of the Dark Lord. Snape had respected her decision, but had held no enthusiasm - and he did not either at the moment.

"Some people are shallow, Miss Granger." He remarked, removing his hand from her chin and moving back to take a seat in the armchair opposite her. Silence fell over them, and he waited for her to bring up the book which still sat in her lap.

"Will you be attending the Ball, sir?" she asked instead, shocking him.

He gave her a wry smile. "Yes, Minerva has had in drilled into her head that all staff should attend the Ball - you know that the rest of the school is in fact leaving tomorrow, do you not? Allowing all to make their appearance with no excuses." He made an attempt to pull of Minerva's voice, which must have worked, given the short, surprised laugh that burst forth. "So I will be there to watch you dance, drink, laugh and say goodbye to this school."

"I'm sure we will all be sorely missed by the feared Potions Professor," she muttered, and Snape was almost certain that he was not meant to have heard that.

"Some more then others, Miss Granger," he said in a quiet, serious voice, leaning forward and linking his hands together under his chin, resting his elbows on his knees. He saw the look of shock that flitted across her face at his words, and knew that she had picked up on the double meaning.

He would miss her. Not that he'd ever actually tell her that.

Silence fell over them again, before she spoke. "Do you dance, sir?"

He let out a short, surprised laugh. "Have you ever seen me dance, Miss Granger?" he asked in an amused tone.

"No, sir."

"Then there is your answer."

She shook her head, clearly unsatisfied. "Just because I've never seen you dance, sir, does not mean that you don't." She stated, her still slightly red rimmed eyes holding his in a stern look.

Snape was highly amused by her answer. "You've got yourself a point, I may grant you that, Miss Granger," he said in a quiet voice. "Perhaps I did dance, once." The eyebrow that rose on her forehead, and the inquisitive look that formed in her eyes was more then enough warning for him to know that questions that would come barrelling out of her mouth without actually using any spell to pry. And so he took the initiative to answer them before they were asked. "I danced at my Graduation Ball. It was the second last one this school ever held, before this one now. The people whom I might have once referred to as my companions at this school taught me to dance for the Ball."

"Once referred to?" Miss Granger interrupted.

"Yes, Miss Granger, no longer. But that is not the point, and do not interrupt, unless you do not wish to know."

"I'm surprised you're telling me, sir." Came the quiet reply.

"Interrupt me again, and I may not," he gave her what he hoped was a meaningful look before continuing on with the story.

He continued on with the story, not even entirely sure as to why he was telling her. Something about her made him want to explain his reasoning for everything, which was quite a frightening sensation for him. "We Slytherins saw the Graduation Ball as the opportunity to once again prove ourselves better then the rest of the school." He smirked at the memory of Morghanna Lissbeth guiding him around the Common Room. "You needn't know who I attended with, either," he said quickly when he noticed the expression of interest on her face. When she pouted, he almost had to look away. "Just know that she thought I was a good dancer. I certainly did not step on her toes." Miss Granger apparently couldn't hide the grin that appeared on her face. Snape decided that embarrassing himself with this story was worth it, just to see that grin.

"So, what happened?" she asked.

"Interrupting, Miss Granger?" He smirked as she fell silent. "I thought now. If you must know, I went to the Ball, and I dance. I danced perhaps three days before two assholes put me in my place." He growled out the last few words, and watched as realisation dawned on her face.

"No…" she whispered.

He smirked at her. "Yes, Miss Granger. As your mind has already realised, I fell victim once again to cruelty of James Potter and Sirius Black." Anger bubbled in his blood as he recalled the incident. Recalled the taunting, the sneers, the laughter. He struggled to stay focused on the witch in front of him.

"What did they do to you?" came her quiet question.

With a flutter of his hand, he made an attempt to look calm. "The usual. Called me a greasy git, told my date that she'd have to cast a thousand cleaning spells after touching me, and tripped me up in front of the entire year on the dance floor.

He watched as her eyes widened. "If front of teachers?" she asked, a hand at her mouth. Snape made himself look away from that hand and those lips.

"Yes, Miss Granger," he muttered, looking at the bookshelves that lined the room. "Everyone always turned a blind eye when it came to bloody Potter, because he was 'such a promising Quidditch star'!" He snarled. "Once again, he robbed me of what little pride I had."

Much to his surprise, she suddenly had a very thoughtful look upon her face. Before he could asked what was going on in that calculating mind of hers, she enquired, "Was that all they said?"

He then realised it had been a very long time since he'd bothered to correct her when she forgot to address him properly. "Yes, Miss Granger, in more words, though."

A somewhat pleased grin broke out on her face. "Then they never said that you were a bad dancer. So in a way, you did show them."

It was a few seconds before he realised he was starting open mouthed and shocked at the witch before him. Not a face he presented to anyone – especially not her. "Well, perhaps," he said gruffly, know in his mind that the intelligence of the witch had once again gotten the best of him. "But that doesn't change what they did, or the consequences."

"You should know better then anyone that the past does not matter." Miss Granger said softly, causing him to meet her eyes again.

"Well, it does not change the fact that unlike many of my… foolish colleagues, I will not be dancing at tomorrow's Ball." He turned away, unwilling to see the look in her eyes as he said, "Like father, like son."

She was quiet for a moment as the words sunk in and he realised that he still hadn't put back Curses of Being a Wizard in its place. Then she spoke. "Harry would never say something like that about someone without being provoked."

Feeling anger rise within him again, he looked straight in her brown eyes. "Dare you forget that I still have ears, Miss Granger?" he demanded in a low, harsh voice. He saw her flinch slightly at his words. "Dare you think that I do not hear what you and your friends say about me? The same words that foul boy said. And without provoking, you say? I did not realise that my teaching style, me preparing you all for a world where nothing is handed to you on the gleaming silver plate that it is here could be called provoking!" He stood and strode over the fireplace, not wanting to look at the witch now.

"I never said it," she whispered, her voice pleading.

He kept staring at the mantle piece, at the small clock that sat there amongst the piles of books. "All the times your friends suspected me for wanting to harm, wanting to kill them, wanting to kill everyone, it was always me who was the bad person, wasn't it? I was always the evil wizard, helping the Dark Lord?" he demanded to know. "All the times I helped you, all the times I saved your lives, and you just kept hating me. How was I to bloody well know that Black was innocent, that Pettigrew was there?" He could feel burning in his throat, and he willed himself not to let it continue. "All I knew was that three students were in danger, and from what I could tell, under a charm. But of course, I was still the bad one, thanks to a petty grudge born long ago." His hands were shaking as he held onto the mantle piece.

A sound behind him told him that the young witch had stood up. "I didn't hate you, I never did," Came her soft voice. He could tell she was trying to hold back tears. "And I never thought you were out to kill anyone. Maybe Sirius, but who could blame you, the way he would taunt you. And now I really know why you hated him. I defended you, do you know?"

He turned to face her. She was standing just in front of the armchair, the book she had been clutching sitting in her place. Her eyes were bright with tears as she continued on. "I was right to defend you against my friends, to trust you," she whispered. "Despite BlueCloud Fever apparently not being fatal, I feel you save my life, you took me away from a storm. You've given me somewhere to study lately; you've helped me beyond what anyone else could."

Her words warmed him. It had been a long time since he had heard anyone declare that they did not hate him, but instead trusted him and defended him. Even in the days of the war, many of the Order did not trust him, and even less since…

And now here Hermione Granger stood, Hermione Granger whom he had felt an attraction for growing and growing since she had been planted in his care, Hermione Granger whom he'd shared a dream with days before, Hermione Granger who was saying all those things that were so rare for him to hear.

"I do not doubt you," was all he could bring himself to say. "And I've long learnt to ignore such tendencies of foolish students who do not know what might be good for them." He was not going to say sorry, he was not going to say sorry.

She smiled warily at him, her eyes still too bright. "Thank you for all your help." She said softly.

There eyes held for a long time, before he said once again, "This does not mean that I will dance at the Ball, I have no interest."

"I do not expect you to, sir," she said.

Silence fell over them, and he returned to his seat in the armchair, smoothing down the front of his robes. "Who are you going with, anyway? The Weasley Wonder?" His stomach tightened curiously, and he realised he didn't really want to see her dancing with any of the boys from the school.

He watched as she bit her lip and turned her face away from him. "No, sir, I'm not going with Ron." He raised an eyebrow, watching for her to answer him, and watching as she began to blush furiously. "I'm going with Neville, actually," she said quietly.

It took a moment to understand her words, and when he did, he almost roared with laughter, ignoring the glare she threw him. "What a way to say farewell to the school, the smartest witch for generations, paired with the boy who couldn't go a few months without destroying one classroom or another," he commented drying before realising exactly what he'd say about it.

A tiny, pleased smile appeared on her lips and she blushed again, this time a more delicate shade. "I had not much of a choice, sir," she said in an amused tone. "Anyone whom I might have liked to go with already had a date… or were simply out of reach." Snape tried not to concentrate on one way that he might be able to take her words; simply making an attempt to wonder why she would be interested in a student would not be able to attend the Ball. But how ever hard he tried, he couldn't black out the idea that maybe she'd wanted to go with him.

Not long after, the younger witch left his rooms, telling him that she had some things to, that she had to finish packing. He felt her pain as she departed, and it terrified him somewhat to know that this might very well be the last time she would be in his private rooms. His stomach twisted at the thought, though he knew that he'd see her again, for she had left her book in his care, suggesting that he had a read of it for himself.

But as she left, an idea formed in his mind. Perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to prove a Potter wrong.

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Hermione strolled through the sunny grounds of Hogwarts with Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville, the five of them enjoying their final days at Hogwarts; Ginny, her's with Harry being at the school. They relived the events that had occurred in the grounds – where they had sat during their free days, the Quidditch pitch, Hagrid's hut, and the lake where Neville had once fallen into and still no body knew how.

Every memory that was recalled brought Hermione closer to tears as she thought that soon she would no longer be able to create memories here. Her time was coming to a close.

However, the memories that she thought of most, were the memories that she had created with Professor Snape over the past few months. Flying around the Quidditch Pitch, soaring high above the school grounds to watch a beautiful sunset, him quite literally flying her to her rooms, the talks they had had within the Quidditch stands.

As the five of them walked around the Pitch, she told them she wanted to check on something, and dashed up to her little hiding place, recalling the last time she had been there. She remembered the way he had spoken to her, the way he had confided in her. She recalled the conversations they'd had ever since she'd gotten ill, the way she had treated him, the kindness he had shown her, and the way they had kissed. She knew she was feeling something for him, and despite knowing that she could never tell him, could never tell anyone, she wanted to leave him something, even if he'd never find it.

Pulling out a quill out of the bag she carried around simply out of habit, she murmured a quick spell to make the tip sharper and stronger. Pressing the tip into the wood of the stands, she wrote something in tiny writing, making sure that it could be read, but not easily spotted. Once she was done, she stepped back and performed a surviving spell upon the words, making sure they would always stay there, hoping that one day he might find them.

Below her, she heard her friends calling for her, wondering where she was. Taking a quick glance at the words, she bit back a smile before whispering them to herself and slipping back down to the ground below her, to the friends who waited for her.

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Hope you all liked that one. Very hard to write that one was, lol; reasoning for it being late!

Next chapter should be up tomorrow, but I hold no garuntee.

Two chapters left!

For all those who have asked (or should I say stated, or demanded ;-) ), yes, there will be a sequel to this story. I don't usually like sequels, but my Plot Bunny is feral (I gave him that chocolate cake I offered last chapter) and now he's demanding more work, lol. Hopefully it will be good :-)

Anyone want some ice-cream today? I don't feel like anything else…