A/N I know this is getting to be a regular occurrence and I'm really sorry for that... but time seems to fly, and now I have exams coming up and I will have to study for them this year, sadly. Basically, my apologies for the delay in this chapter, and even more apologies for what will likely be another long delay. I have next weekend to write, but if I don't get a chapter posted by then (a 50 chance) then I won't be writing anything until about the third week of June. Sorry. Now here's this chapter... hope you like it!

The mental image of Snape as a biker caused her to laugh, and that distraction caused her to trip on yet another tree root. Snape, as he had done the previous three times, lunged forward and caught her.

"I am beginning to tire of this, Miss... Jane. I know fully well that you are perfectly capable of walking. The distance is not great and you have no apparent physical disabilities, so why is it that you insist on continually stumbling?"

"Because, Uncle Alexander, it's dark and I can't see."

"Neither can I," he retorted, "Yet I seem to be managing adequately." He still had a grip on her arm, and she tried to pull free. "I think not. I do not wish to have to take you to a muggle hospital; neither do I wish to heal you myself."

He kept his bruising grip on her arm all the way back to the house. While she did not stumble again, Hermione was decidedly annoyed with him. They arrived back and he undid all of his wards to allow them entrance. Snape let go of her arm when he stepped inside (she noticed that he did not hold the door open for her), and commenced re-warding the front door.

"We will not go outside again tonight," he informed her peremptorily. "Should you wish to go outside tomorrow morning-"

"I'll leave you a note before I break the wards," she interrupted him.

"I doubt you'll be able to do so," he informed her coldly. "You forget who you are dealing with, Miss Granger. Your opinion of yourself is far higher than it ought to be. Perhaps it comes from the inadequacy of those with whom you associate - your peers would certainly inspire in one such as yourself delusions of intelligence." She opened her mouth furiously to retort, but he cut her off, "I assume you have finished your homework," he said. "We shall go over it in the morning. Good night, Miss Granger."

He knew full bloody well that she had not even started the work he had assigned her. He had been with her all afternoon! Biting down her angry replies, Hermione said, "Of course, Professor. Good night." She would do the homework tonight if she had to stay up all night to do so. Damn the man.

The next day did not dawn bright and sunny. It was raining heavily. When she came downstairs, Hermione was shocked to see Snape brewing coffee in the kitchen looking, if she dared to believe her eyes, cheerful! She eyed him suspiciously, debating whether or not to ask him why he was looking so happy. She decided against it, and he surprised her a second time in as many minutes.

"Would you like coffee, Miss Granger?"

"Uh... yes please, Professor." He had offered her coffee. And he was smiling - at least, she presumed that the strange twist to his mouth was a smile. It could, she supposed, have been a nervous twitch, but the image of Snape nervous was rather more unsettling than that of him happy.

He poured her a cup and handed it to her. She accepted and sipped slowly, trying not to outwardly convey her shock. Snape, apparently in a conversational mood as well as a cheerful one, said,

"It's such a pity about the weather, isn't it?" Hermione choked on her coffee, the scalding liquid burning the back of her throat.

"I beg your pardon, sir?" she asked, when she could finally breathe properly.

"I was remarking on the weather. It appears that it will storm all day." He smirked at her.

"Yes, sir," she ventured, wondering if he was sick. Should she take him to a muggle hospital, or was this some kind of magical malady?

"It appears that I won't be able to meet that waitress tonight as we had planned. Such a shame." And he sounds so sincere, she thought with amusement. At least this explained his strange exuberant mood.

"You can't cancel, sir, because we can't call her to tell her - we don't have a phone. And if you don't turn up she'll be extremely offended." Hah.

"But there is obviously no way I could possibly walk to town in this weather," he told her. "It seems that I have no choice but to remain here."

"Respectfully, sir," she told him, lying without compunction, "You can't blow her off. If you do that the whole town will know - waitresses gossip - and you'll get a reputation and everyone will be talking about us. We can't afford that." Which is all so much bull, really, she reflected, but he seems to be buying it. Perhaps he believes that I wouldn't dare lie to him?

"How then, Miss Granger," he asked snidely, apparently having reverted to his usual mood, "Do you propose I get to town in this weather?"

"You could walk, professor. You might get a little wet, but it shouldn't be too bad. And this way Sarah will know that you really do mean your apology." And she'll be really touched that he walked all the way in the rain for her, she thought smugly. Revenge is sweet. It was unimportant that she could not remember quite what it was that she was exacting revenge from him for - his general unpleasantness alone warranted it.

Snape glared at her and swept from the room. Hermione waited until she heard the door from the living room slam before she burst into laughter.

Morning 'classes' with Snape were as unpleasant as any Potions class at Hogwarts, but at least this morning he seemed to be refraining from criticising the teaching styles of the other teachers. Perhaps he doesn't want a repeat of last night, she thought with amusement.

Dumbledore's reply owls arrived as they were finishing lunch. There were three of them, and they each held rather large packets. Hermione wasted no time in ripping them open despite Snape's disapproving glance. The first packet held a letter from Dumbledore and assorted paperwork that had to be handed into the ministry to allow Hermione to take her NEWTs, the second held a suggested syllabus for the rest of the year, and the third contained NEWT papers from last year.

"You seem to have little consideration for the fact that those packages are labelled with my name," Snape told her with no real malice. "It is considered extremely impolite to open another person's mail."

Hermione was too engrossed to notice the lack of annoyance in his voice, much less to notice that he sounded vaguely amused.

"Sorry," she muttered absently.

Hermione looked up from the papers an hour later, to find that Snape had left the table, and probably not recently. She collected the papers together and went off to find him, not noticing that he had cleared not only his own place but hers as well.

Snape had taken her favourite armchair and was reading some kind of thick novel. He put it down as she approached, and raised an eyebrow at her. "You have decided to remove your nose from the papers the headmaster sent to me, then?" he enquired.

"Briefly," she responded, flashing him a grin before suddenly realising with a jolt who she was talking with. Blushing a little, she hastily added, "I was coming to ask your permission, sir, to do the practice exams. I'd like to see where I am, what I have to catch up with before I take them..."

Snape sighed. "You wish to take the practice exams now?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. Redundancy. If it'd be me, he would've snapped at me. "May I?" she added, when he did not reply.

"Yes, Miss Granger, you may. On one condition."

"What condition, sir?" she asked him with trepidation.

"My dinner with that waitress tonight," he told her. Then, choosing his words carefully, "I am unaware as to what muggle custom dictates as my choice of apparel in a casual meal as such." It took a few seconds for Hermione to unravel the sentence to catch its meaning. Then, suddenly, she found herself with the barely-controllable urge to laugh hysterically. Snape didn't know what to wear!