The SSHG Holiday Audiofic Quiz
In case you missed it, a wonderful website for Hermione Granger/Severus Snape Audio Fanfic opened back in August called Hufflehugs. This month they have been celebrating A Very Hufflehug Christmas by posting SSHG Holiday audiofics! This week's quiz is based on a dozen of those recordings. Have fun listening to the myriad ways Severus and Hermione spend the holidays and then play the very first SSHG Holiday Audiofic Quiz!
Don't forget to give the authors, the readers and everyone involved with these recordings a little love by reviewing on the smokingbaby posting for each fic, as Hufflehugs is not currently set up to receive reviews.
Bask in the fangirl lovefest that is Hufflehugs and enjoy all the incredible SSHG audiofics there. Have a wonderful holiday season!
Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EST. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Enjoy your holidays and we'll see you on Boxing Day with the answer sheet!
Match the quotes to the story titles (There are no red herrings this time):
The 25th of Kislev by lonebutterfly aka butterflycross
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: clairvoyant12
Rating: K
Length: 31:22
Predictive Texting by astopperindeath
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: pyjamapants
Rating: R
Length: 14:49
Under the Mistletoe by debjunk
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: cybrokat
Rating: K
Length: 20:46
A Christmas Cauldron by ladyofthemasque
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: ladyofthemasque
Rating: NC-17
Length: 25:09
How Severus Stole Christmas by Elizabeth
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: DarkLotus1211
Rating: K+ (PG)
Length: 14:43
A Christmas Thought by tulaksam
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: MistressBlackSnape
Rating: K+
Length: 6:57
Keep Your Enemy Close by leni_jess
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: teddyradiator
Rating: NC-17
Length: 54:53
Let Nothing You Dismay by bluestocking79
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: bluestocking79
Rating: PG
Length: 10:48
Mistletoe by stillmyheart
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: esclaramonde
Rating: G
Length: 22:34
Knickers, Yule Edition by nastygrl aka dari_67
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: aurette
Rating: NC-17
Length: 14:28
Winter of Our Discontent by losille2000
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: dozmuffinxc
Rating: T
Length: 26:14
Send Not to Know by subvers
Audio links: Ch 1-3, Ch 4-6, Ch 7-9 and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: christev and subvers
Rating: MA
Length: Ch 1-3 50:27 , Ch 4-6 1:28:22, Ch 7-9 1:14:10
1. “I know just what to do!” Severus laughed with a choke.
He left the Great Hall with a swirl of his cloak.
And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Snape-ish trick!
“I’ll destroy all HER plans with my expert magic!”
“I’ll wait until nightfall…”
He leered as he spake.
“I’ll sneak round the castle, chaos in my wake.
“And to stop all her foolishness, I’ll make her heart break.
“No! She can’t be allowed
To continue her prancing,” he bitterly vowed!
His wand at the ready, he stood there endowed
Already in black, he was dressed in a shroud.
2. "Now, now, Severus, it's not that bad."
"Please, old man; when I die I won't be receiving the hero's tomb. I'll be lucky if they bury my body."
"Severus, talk to her! Explain you forgot and say you're sorry, and then stay at Hogwarts yourself."
"But this is the first year I have the chance to return home for the holidays, Albus."
"You would be back in time for Christmas. Consider it, my boy."
"It's of no use, she hates me," he said, morosely. "They all hate me."
"She wouldn't hate you if you would explain the situation."
"I'm not being persecuted and ridiculed for this also, Albus, I've told you every year -"
"And I've told you every year that someone else needs to know! You won't be ridiculed, especially not by Professor Granger."
"My answer is still no."
From her place, Disillusioned behind a tree, Hermione could hear the resignation in Albus' voice when he replied in a language she was unfamiliar with.
3. His phone beeped.
“That would depend on why you want it?”
Why I want it? Because I’m sick of turkey every year. Why in God’s name does she need to know my motivation?
He typed, “Because I think it would be a nice change of pace.” Send.
Her phone beeped.
Wow, not the most romantic reason in the world. What happens in Muggle London stays in Muggle London, I guess.
Knowing it was probably the worst idea she’d had in a long time, she texted him back.
“Meet me in the back alley behind Marks and Spencer in ten minutes.”
4. At long last, he rapped on Minerva's door. Her cry for him to enter sent a wave of relief over him. Unfortunately, that dissipated quickly, because Minerva's reaction to him was less than promising.
Minerva took one look at him, and her eyes grew wide.
"Really, Severus, if you wanted a kiss, you could have just asked for one!" She tittered at her humor.
Severus scowled. "I came here for your help, not your ridicule!" he snapped.
Minerva rose from her sofa and came over to him. She pecked him lightly on the lips and looked up to see the result. Severus looked to her in shock before pushing her away. He tentatively looked up, but the stupid mistletoe still sat above his head, mocking him.
"Hmm, isn't that supposed to disappear?" Minerva asked sagely.
Severus' eyes narrowed. "Not when it's enchanted by Narcissa Malfoy, evidently."
"Oh, dear. Come sit down, and let's see what we can do about that."
Severus sat with her on the sofa. He explained the note as Minerva tried some spells. Nothing worked. She tried to transfigure the mistletoe, but not a leaf transformed. She sighed as she lowered her wand.
"I guess we'll just have to figure out who needs to kiss you," she said in resignation.
5. But mostly she watches his eyes, dark and large and as eerie as they are expressive, at once his most beautiful and terrifying feature. Sometimes they glimmer with mirth; sometimes they glitter with cruel satisfaction. At times they narrow in lacerating fury, and on rare, wonderful occasions they even gleam with something like approval. Yet too often these days they are merely dull and flat with despair-wanting little, expecting less.
They look that way now as he sits in the corner of the staff room, sipping Firewhisky and skulking in the shadows of his colleagues' holiday cheer. Even beneath the glassy sheen of alcohol, there's a dim, half-dead hunger in his gaze, the sort of chronic, bone-deep want that has long reconciled itself to never being fulfilled.
It is, Hermione thinks, about time she did something to change that.
A sad sprig of charmed mistletoe hovers mockingly over his head-Flitwick's idea of an amusing joke, no doubt-and as Hermione approaches the table, Snape spares a tired, bleary-eyed glare-first for the sprig, then for her. "Not a word," he says darkly, his speech impressively crisp given the amount he's already drunk.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Hermione murmurs. His eyes are no less fascinating up close, and Hermione watches his gaze cycle through despair, annoyance, interest and attraction before settling down to some breathtaking combination of melancholy and wistfulness-all of it focussed on her.
"I suppose," Snape says suddenly, "that you've come to have a laugh as well."
"Of course not! I'd never-"
"Of course you wouldn't," he mutters, a sharp spike of bitterness in his voice. "You've come to wish the pitiful old man Happy Christmas. How charitable. How very Dickensian of you. But on the whole, I think I'd rather have the mockery, Professor Granger. At least it's honest."
6. She had broken Harry's wand.
This had been anti-Christmas, not Christmas. While they were on this horrid camping trip Hermione had never expected anything like Christmas at Hogwarts, with her friends, and Dumbledore's manic good cheer, and the warm atmosphere and the holiday feast (even when Professor Snape was sitting at the staff table, scowling impartially on the lot of them, Dumbledore not least). Nor had she expected to go back to the Christmases of her childhood, sitting warm with her parents, listening to music, all of them immersed in the sensible presents of books they had exchanged, in real anticipation of each other's pleasure.
The lead-up to Christmas at home had been going up to London to a performance of Handel's Messiah, coming home drunk on the music, singing the choruses all the way home in the train, and in the car from their local station, back to the warm house, then eating a sugar-free, low-fat, low-salt, filling and tasty supper, that Hermione had not had to struggle alone to make.
The lead-up to this Christmas had been Ron walking out on them. She had cried, night after night, over that. And now that he was back she was mad at him. Really, deep-down angry, for abandoning them, for betraying them, not just because he had walked out on Harry's job - and how could you walk away from saving the world? It wasn't possible!
7. Minerva heard the grinding of stone against stone outside the door, signaling that someone was coming up to see her. Within seconds, an arguing, exasperated individual burst into the room, followed by a smirking, unmoved wizard.
“… You had no right!”
“I had every right, Miss Granger.”
“He nearly killed Teddy Lupin!”
“But he did not.”
Hermione scoffed and let out a feral grumble, nearly stomping her feet like a small child.
“Calm down, both of you! Honestly!” Minerva said sternly. “Two of my staff members acting like this is reprehensible! What has set you off now?”
They both opened their mouths to start at the same time, but Minerva raised a hand.
“Hermione first.”
8. Emily smiled happily as Hermione bounced her a little on her knee. Emily had inherited her mother's red hair and her father Harry's green eyes and Hermione knew she'd be beautiful when she got older.
As Hermione played with the baby a dark shape entered the room; Hermione glanced up to see Severus Snape settle into a chair in the corner, staring intently at a piece of parchment in his hand.
She watched him surreptitiously and then jumped as she heard her name spoken.
"Hermione, we need your help. Dad keeps wanting to put the decorations up without magic and Mum thinks he's about to hurt himself."
Hermione grinned and stood; Ginny leaned towards Hermione.
"Give Em to Professor Snape. Mum says we should involve him more," she whispered.
Hermione nodded and walked over to Severus.
"Excuse me, Professor, but could you hold the baby for a little while?"
Severus looked up, startled. He looked from Hermione to Emily and then back to Hermione.
"I don't think-"
"It's okay, you shouldn't have any problems. We won't be long."
"Well, okay," Severus said reluctantly, setting down his parchment. Hermione bent, passing the baby to him, his hands brushing hers as he took hold of Emily; his eyes flicked up once more to Hermione and then he looked apprehensively at the baby.
9. Or course, I fail to notice the plants hanging from the garland as she crosses under my arm to escape. She finds herself unable to flee or retreat. James Bond, I would never be.
"Professor, sir, I hate to alarm you but I cannot move."
"What do you mean that you cannot...." I glance up and swear. And then, swear again. Albus' mother has never had such a colorful espression of her character before. "I believe that we are testing the latest Weasley Holiday invention, Ms. Granger."
"What do you mean..." Her voice withers as she glances upwards. "Oh no. They couldn't. They wouldn't."
"Please just get this over with while no one is looking, and we'll be fine. Calm youself, please. I shan't catch you if you should pass out."
She appears to gather herself together. Must be that renown Gryffindor courage that I'm always hearing so much about. Myself, well, a large part of me wishes to run. A small, almost never heard from part of me is very glad for this chance. It believes this is a moment to replay over and over again in memory, as if I believed in such useless woolgathering.
She looks at me expectantly. "Shall we?" I lean forward and peck her forehead. She still can't budge. "I didn't think it'd be that easy."
10. We are sitting together on the floor like little children do at their parents’ feet, as if waiting for a story or a pat on the head. My wife… My wife. Just saying the words in my head still gives me pause, and a small smile appears. Hermione thinks it is in keeping with the Christmas spirit if we sit on the floor in front of our tree to exchange gifts.
Why comfortable sofas and leather chairs do not fall under acceptable Christmas seating arrangements is beyond me, but as I am still awestruck by my good fortune of late, just this once I will curb my tongue. “Besides,” I remind myself with a soft snicker, “my tongue was too pleasantly occupied not so long ago for it to need any exercise just now.”
My knees, however, are already protesting the uncomfortable position into which they’ve been contorted. The tree has already shed more spines than one would think possible while still maintaining any resemblance to a Christmas tree. It would appear my Kitten forgets she is a witch at Christmastime. She has insisted on doing a great many things without the use of magic, including wrapping gifts and decorating our apartment. It would seem that casting a stasis charm on the blasted tree so that the sharp needles do not find their way into a man’s sock as they tread across a carpeted floor was included on the Things Not to Use Magic For list.
She is ready to leap up, yet again, to fetch something or other, and I rest my hand on her arm and slowly shake my head. “Hermione, you are a witch, and you are making me weary just by looking at you. While you may think this is romantic, the truth is, sitting here is cold, my knees are protesting, and this,” waving my arm to indicate this entire scenario, “is completely undignified.”
11. This year, when the movie came to an end and Hermione rose to start ushering the students--clad in their pajamas and dressing gowns--out of the lounge and back to their dormitories, a small, blue-clad figure detached itself from the chairs in the front row and padded on rapid, slippered feet straight back to him. Crawling fearlessly into his lap, the little girl snuggled into his shoulder. Severus gently blocked her hand before she could suckle her thumb. She was five years old, too old to still be suckling her thumb; lately he had taken to coating the digit in question in a hotsauce-like potion to convince her to stop, though she was struggling to stop on her own. He hadn’t coated it tonight, though, because she was eating popcorn with her fingers like all the other, older children.
Instead of attempting it again, she merely clutched at the lapels of his black robes, nuzzling her cheek into his wool-covered chest. Cradling her close, Severus stroked the dark ringlets from her forehead and cheek as those equally dark eyes drifted shut, then covered her young hand with his much larger one, catching and holding it gently as it loosened with the slackness of sleep.
When the little girl was completely limp, he gently shifted his grip, lifting her in his arms. He could’ve used mobilicorpus at times like this, which would have been easier for dealing with doorknobs and such, but never did. Instead, he gently carried his daughter to the third-floor suite he and his wife had moved into eight years ago, a compromise between his former dungeon quarters and her own initial choice of a tower abode. It didn’t take long for him to tuck his young daughter into her bed; leaving her to sleep, Severus warded the room to let him know if she woke and needed her parents in the night, and returned to the teacher’s lounge. Settling back into the chair he had vacated, he waited.
12. “Let’s read,” she said suddenly, pulling her wand and pointing it in the vague direction of the staircase. “Accio The Little Prince,” she said and waited patiently for the book to zoom into her grasp.
“What is it?” he inquired, seeing on the cover of the book a cartoon-like drawing.
“It is a book about friendship,” Hermione told him, moving closer to him so that their upper arms touched. “We have to sit close, so that we can both see the illustrations,” she explained. “I’ll read a chapter, and then you - until we have read it all. It’s a short book.”
Snape seemed somewhat sceptical about the book, but he lifted an arm to the sofa back, making more room for her to sit close to him, and made no demur. Thus it was that they read to one another, deep into the night. It was the allegory of the Little Prince, who left his home planet to escape the torment of a beloved - but thoughtless - rose. The Little Prince had many adventures on Earth, including learning about friendship from the fox; he came to understand that he loved his rose because she was unique in all the world, and in time he wished for nothing but to return to her. When Hermione read the last chapter, her voice thick with emotion, she was not surprised to see tears glistening on Severus’ face.
“You liked it,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he replied.
“I am the fox,” she told him, and sat quietly beside him, looking into the fire until she fell asleep on his shoulder.
Snape looked down into her slumbering face, his expression enigmatic, and said, “You are the rose.”
He was still keeping watch when the sun came up.
Don't forget to give the authors, the readers and everyone involved with these recordings a little love by reviewing on the smokingbaby posting for each fic, as Hufflehugs is not currently set up to receive reviews.
Bask in the fangirl lovefest that is Hufflehugs and enjoy all the incredible SSHG audiofics there. Have a wonderful holiday season!
Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EST. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Enjoy your holidays and we'll see you on Boxing Day with the answer sheet!
Match the quotes to the story titles (There are no red herrings this time):
The 25th of Kislev by lonebutterfly aka butterflycross
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: clairvoyant12
Rating: K
Length: 31:22
Predictive Texting by astopperindeath
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: pyjamapants
Rating: R
Length: 14:49
Under the Mistletoe by debjunk
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: cybrokat
Rating: K
Length: 20:46
A Christmas Cauldron by ladyofthemasque
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: ladyofthemasque
Rating: NC-17
Length: 25:09
How Severus Stole Christmas by Elizabeth
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: DarkLotus1211
Rating: K+ (PG)
Length: 14:43
A Christmas Thought by tulaksam
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: MistressBlackSnape
Rating: K+
Length: 6:57
Keep Your Enemy Close by leni_jess
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: teddyradiator
Rating: NC-17
Length: 54:53
Let Nothing You Dismay by bluestocking79
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: bluestocking79
Rating: PG
Length: 10:48
Mistletoe by stillmyheart
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: esclaramonde
Rating: G
Length: 22:34
Knickers, Yule Edition by nastygrl aka dari_67
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: aurette
Rating: NC-17
Length: 14:28
Winter of Our Discontent by losille2000
Audio link and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: dozmuffinxc
Rating: T
Length: 26:14
Send Not to Know by subvers
Audio links: Ch 1-3, Ch 4-6, Ch 7-9 and Story link and Leave a review here
Read by: christev and subvers
Rating: MA
Length: Ch 1-3 50:27 , Ch 4-6 1:28:22, Ch 7-9 1:14:10
1. “I know just what to do!” Severus laughed with a choke.
He left the Great Hall with a swirl of his cloak.
And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Snape-ish trick!
“I’ll destroy all HER plans with my expert magic!”
“I’ll wait until nightfall…”
He leered as he spake.
“I’ll sneak round the castle, chaos in my wake.
“And to stop all her foolishness, I’ll make her heart break.
“No! She can’t be allowed
To continue her prancing,” he bitterly vowed!
His wand at the ready, he stood there endowed
Already in black, he was dressed in a shroud.
2. "Now, now, Severus, it's not that bad."
"Please, old man; when I die I won't be receiving the hero's tomb. I'll be lucky if they bury my body."
"Severus, talk to her! Explain you forgot and say you're sorry, and then stay at Hogwarts yourself."
"But this is the first year I have the chance to return home for the holidays, Albus."
"You would be back in time for Christmas. Consider it, my boy."
"It's of no use, she hates me," he said, morosely. "They all hate me."
"She wouldn't hate you if you would explain the situation."
"I'm not being persecuted and ridiculed for this also, Albus, I've told you every year -"
"And I've told you every year that someone else needs to know! You won't be ridiculed, especially not by Professor Granger."
"My answer is still no."
From her place, Disillusioned behind a tree, Hermione could hear the resignation in Albus' voice when he replied in a language she was unfamiliar with.
3. His phone beeped.
“That would depend on why you want it?”
Why I want it? Because I’m sick of turkey every year. Why in God’s name does she need to know my motivation?
He typed, “Because I think it would be a nice change of pace.” Send.
Her phone beeped.
Wow, not the most romantic reason in the world. What happens in Muggle London stays in Muggle London, I guess.
Knowing it was probably the worst idea she’d had in a long time, she texted him back.
“Meet me in the back alley behind Marks and Spencer in ten minutes.”
4. At long last, he rapped on Minerva's door. Her cry for him to enter sent a wave of relief over him. Unfortunately, that dissipated quickly, because Minerva's reaction to him was less than promising.
Minerva took one look at him, and her eyes grew wide.
"Really, Severus, if you wanted a kiss, you could have just asked for one!" She tittered at her humor.
Severus scowled. "I came here for your help, not your ridicule!" he snapped.
Minerva rose from her sofa and came over to him. She pecked him lightly on the lips and looked up to see the result. Severus looked to her in shock before pushing her away. He tentatively looked up, but the stupid mistletoe still sat above his head, mocking him.
"Hmm, isn't that supposed to disappear?" Minerva asked sagely.
Severus' eyes narrowed. "Not when it's enchanted by Narcissa Malfoy, evidently."
"Oh, dear. Come sit down, and let's see what we can do about that."
Severus sat with her on the sofa. He explained the note as Minerva tried some spells. Nothing worked. She tried to transfigure the mistletoe, but not a leaf transformed. She sighed as she lowered her wand.
"I guess we'll just have to figure out who needs to kiss you," she said in resignation.
5. But mostly she watches his eyes, dark and large and as eerie as they are expressive, at once his most beautiful and terrifying feature. Sometimes they glimmer with mirth; sometimes they glitter with cruel satisfaction. At times they narrow in lacerating fury, and on rare, wonderful occasions they even gleam with something like approval. Yet too often these days they are merely dull and flat with despair-wanting little, expecting less.
They look that way now as he sits in the corner of the staff room, sipping Firewhisky and skulking in the shadows of his colleagues' holiday cheer. Even beneath the glassy sheen of alcohol, there's a dim, half-dead hunger in his gaze, the sort of chronic, bone-deep want that has long reconciled itself to never being fulfilled.
It is, Hermione thinks, about time she did something to change that.
A sad sprig of charmed mistletoe hovers mockingly over his head-Flitwick's idea of an amusing joke, no doubt-and as Hermione approaches the table, Snape spares a tired, bleary-eyed glare-first for the sprig, then for her. "Not a word," he says darkly, his speech impressively crisp given the amount he's already drunk.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Hermione murmurs. His eyes are no less fascinating up close, and Hermione watches his gaze cycle through despair, annoyance, interest and attraction before settling down to some breathtaking combination of melancholy and wistfulness-all of it focussed on her.
"I suppose," Snape says suddenly, "that you've come to have a laugh as well."
"Of course not! I'd never-"
"Of course you wouldn't," he mutters, a sharp spike of bitterness in his voice. "You've come to wish the pitiful old man Happy Christmas. How charitable. How very Dickensian of you. But on the whole, I think I'd rather have the mockery, Professor Granger. At least it's honest."
6. She had broken Harry's wand.
This had been anti-Christmas, not Christmas. While they were on this horrid camping trip Hermione had never expected anything like Christmas at Hogwarts, with her friends, and Dumbledore's manic good cheer, and the warm atmosphere and the holiday feast (even when Professor Snape was sitting at the staff table, scowling impartially on the lot of them, Dumbledore not least). Nor had she expected to go back to the Christmases of her childhood, sitting warm with her parents, listening to music, all of them immersed in the sensible presents of books they had exchanged, in real anticipation of each other's pleasure.
The lead-up to Christmas at home had been going up to London to a performance of Handel's Messiah, coming home drunk on the music, singing the choruses all the way home in the train, and in the car from their local station, back to the warm house, then eating a sugar-free, low-fat, low-salt, filling and tasty supper, that Hermione had not had to struggle alone to make.
The lead-up to this Christmas had been Ron walking out on them. She had cried, night after night, over that. And now that he was back she was mad at him. Really, deep-down angry, for abandoning them, for betraying them, not just because he had walked out on Harry's job - and how could you walk away from saving the world? It wasn't possible!
7. Minerva heard the grinding of stone against stone outside the door, signaling that someone was coming up to see her. Within seconds, an arguing, exasperated individual burst into the room, followed by a smirking, unmoved wizard.
“… You had no right!”
“I had every right, Miss Granger.”
“He nearly killed Teddy Lupin!”
“But he did not.”
Hermione scoffed and let out a feral grumble, nearly stomping her feet like a small child.
“Calm down, both of you! Honestly!” Minerva said sternly. “Two of my staff members acting like this is reprehensible! What has set you off now?”
They both opened their mouths to start at the same time, but Minerva raised a hand.
“Hermione first.”
8. Emily smiled happily as Hermione bounced her a little on her knee. Emily had inherited her mother's red hair and her father Harry's green eyes and Hermione knew she'd be beautiful when she got older.
As Hermione played with the baby a dark shape entered the room; Hermione glanced up to see Severus Snape settle into a chair in the corner, staring intently at a piece of parchment in his hand.
She watched him surreptitiously and then jumped as she heard her name spoken.
"Hermione, we need your help. Dad keeps wanting to put the decorations up without magic and Mum thinks he's about to hurt himself."
Hermione grinned and stood; Ginny leaned towards Hermione.
"Give Em to Professor Snape. Mum says we should involve him more," she whispered.
Hermione nodded and walked over to Severus.
"Excuse me, Professor, but could you hold the baby for a little while?"
Severus looked up, startled. He looked from Hermione to Emily and then back to Hermione.
"I don't think-"
"It's okay, you shouldn't have any problems. We won't be long."
"Well, okay," Severus said reluctantly, setting down his parchment. Hermione bent, passing the baby to him, his hands brushing hers as he took hold of Emily; his eyes flicked up once more to Hermione and then he looked apprehensively at the baby.
9. Or course, I fail to notice the plants hanging from the garland as she crosses under my arm to escape. She finds herself unable to flee or retreat. James Bond, I would never be.
"Professor, sir, I hate to alarm you but I cannot move."
"What do you mean that you cannot...." I glance up and swear. And then, swear again. Albus' mother has never had such a colorful espression of her character before. "I believe that we are testing the latest Weasley Holiday invention, Ms. Granger."
"What do you mean..." Her voice withers as she glances upwards. "Oh no. They couldn't. They wouldn't."
"Please just get this over with while no one is looking, and we'll be fine. Calm youself, please. I shan't catch you if you should pass out."
She appears to gather herself together. Must be that renown Gryffindor courage that I'm always hearing so much about. Myself, well, a large part of me wishes to run. A small, almost never heard from part of me is very glad for this chance. It believes this is a moment to replay over and over again in memory, as if I believed in such useless woolgathering.
She looks at me expectantly. "Shall we?" I lean forward and peck her forehead. She still can't budge. "I didn't think it'd be that easy."
10. We are sitting together on the floor like little children do at their parents’ feet, as if waiting for a story or a pat on the head. My wife… My wife. Just saying the words in my head still gives me pause, and a small smile appears. Hermione thinks it is in keeping with the Christmas spirit if we sit on the floor in front of our tree to exchange gifts.
Why comfortable sofas and leather chairs do not fall under acceptable Christmas seating arrangements is beyond me, but as I am still awestruck by my good fortune of late, just this once I will curb my tongue. “Besides,” I remind myself with a soft snicker, “my tongue was too pleasantly occupied not so long ago for it to need any exercise just now.”
My knees, however, are already protesting the uncomfortable position into which they’ve been contorted. The tree has already shed more spines than one would think possible while still maintaining any resemblance to a Christmas tree. It would appear my Kitten forgets she is a witch at Christmastime. She has insisted on doing a great many things without the use of magic, including wrapping gifts and decorating our apartment. It would seem that casting a stasis charm on the blasted tree so that the sharp needles do not find their way into a man’s sock as they tread across a carpeted floor was included on the Things Not to Use Magic For list.
She is ready to leap up, yet again, to fetch something or other, and I rest my hand on her arm and slowly shake my head. “Hermione, you are a witch, and you are making me weary just by looking at you. While you may think this is romantic, the truth is, sitting here is cold, my knees are protesting, and this,” waving my arm to indicate this entire scenario, “is completely undignified.”
11. This year, when the movie came to an end and Hermione rose to start ushering the students--clad in their pajamas and dressing gowns--out of the lounge and back to their dormitories, a small, blue-clad figure detached itself from the chairs in the front row and padded on rapid, slippered feet straight back to him. Crawling fearlessly into his lap, the little girl snuggled into his shoulder. Severus gently blocked her hand before she could suckle her thumb. She was five years old, too old to still be suckling her thumb; lately he had taken to coating the digit in question in a hotsauce-like potion to convince her to stop, though she was struggling to stop on her own. He hadn’t coated it tonight, though, because she was eating popcorn with her fingers like all the other, older children.
Instead of attempting it again, she merely clutched at the lapels of his black robes, nuzzling her cheek into his wool-covered chest. Cradling her close, Severus stroked the dark ringlets from her forehead and cheek as those equally dark eyes drifted shut, then covered her young hand with his much larger one, catching and holding it gently as it loosened with the slackness of sleep.
When the little girl was completely limp, he gently shifted his grip, lifting her in his arms. He could’ve used mobilicorpus at times like this, which would have been easier for dealing with doorknobs and such, but never did. Instead, he gently carried his daughter to the third-floor suite he and his wife had moved into eight years ago, a compromise between his former dungeon quarters and her own initial choice of a tower abode. It didn’t take long for him to tuck his young daughter into her bed; leaving her to sleep, Severus warded the room to let him know if she woke and needed her parents in the night, and returned to the teacher’s lounge. Settling back into the chair he had vacated, he waited.
12. “Let’s read,” she said suddenly, pulling her wand and pointing it in the vague direction of the staircase. “Accio The Little Prince,” she said and waited patiently for the book to zoom into her grasp.
“What is it?” he inquired, seeing on the cover of the book a cartoon-like drawing.
“It is a book about friendship,” Hermione told him, moving closer to him so that their upper arms touched. “We have to sit close, so that we can both see the illustrations,” she explained. “I’ll read a chapter, and then you - until we have read it all. It’s a short book.”
Snape seemed somewhat sceptical about the book, but he lifted an arm to the sofa back, making more room for her to sit close to him, and made no demur. Thus it was that they read to one another, deep into the night. It was the allegory of the Little Prince, who left his home planet to escape the torment of a beloved - but thoughtless - rose. The Little Prince had many adventures on Earth, including learning about friendship from the fox; he came to understand that he loved his rose because she was unique in all the world, and in time he wished for nothing but to return to her. When Hermione read the last chapter, her voice thick with emotion, she was not surprised to see tears glistening on Severus’ face.
“You liked it,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he replied.
“I am the fox,” she told him, and sat quietly beside him, looking into the fire until she fell asleep on his shoulder.
Snape looked down into her slumbering face, his expression enigmatic, and said, “You are the rose.”
He was still keeping watch when the sun came up.