Meant To Be
Hermione and Severus are Meant To Be. Everyone knows that! Unfortunately, they don't always realize it. Sometimes it takes a curse, a hex, a potion gone awry or some arcane bonding magic to force the situation. This week's quiz focuses on stories that employ a bit of magical coercion to get our couple together.
Kudos to sshg316 who came up with the idea for this quiz and then wrote down all the stories in rapid fire sequence while I stood back in amazement. All hail Shug! !
Match the story to the quote:
Forbidden Fruit by Lariv Snape
Recognition by Jezzie*
Master of Enchantment by Subversa
For Someone Special by Lady of the Masque
Under the Mistletoe by Valenque
The Love You Take by Subversa (WIP)
The Harlot’s Potion by Yutamiya
Protector by Lady of the Masque
Where Your Treasure Is by zeegrindylows
The Succubus by Southernwitch69
One Vital Ingredient by Cocochristy
Chosen by Desire by Snarkywench64
Blood of the Virgin Witch by Selened
*You will need to scroll down to find the story.
1. Hermione was transported back; back to the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, to the night she had held his body in her arms and experienced a spiritual completion right down to her very core -- and a stirring of rapture beyond her eighteen-year-old understanding.
Snape stood abruptly, breaking eye contact with her, and the vision in her mind dimmed. Transfiguring his clothes into a clutch of pebbles, Snape dropped them into the pocket of his robe, along with his wand. Hermione stared at him, stared, as he turned his back on her and strode to the door.
“Good night,” he said shortly, and left the building.
Hermione sat as if she had been hit with a Stunning spell. Inviolable rightness. INVIOLABLE. And yet he let her go away to Bulgaria for three years, ignored her owls, denied something hallowed, something sacrosanct. Hermione's entire body was trembling with an excess of emotion; she was quite suddenly so exhausted that she wasn't sure she could walk back to the room.
2. Yes, there is no way that I’d not know the difference now. He never made me feel the way that you do. What of you? Am I…different?” she asked hoping he’d share her sentiments.
“I hated the feeling of being stalked by a temptress. It was a new experience, and new things take time.” She wondered if he was trying to give her a hint about their newfound relationship. His voice seemed so cautious. Why did he feel the need to withhold things? “I wanted to have her. She seduced me fairly early on. I then found myself…thinking of you as well. At some point, the two of you became the same to me.”
Was this good? She wondered. “I see.”
“You don’t see. Let me think for a moment of how I should like to explain this,” he said in an irritated manner. Finally, he said, “I’ve realized lately that I know the difference. You are what I like. You don’t need to be as you were the night of the party for me. You appeal to me in your natural state. There is no need for glamours or tamed hair.”
Hermione was touched. So, he did want her
3. Choosing to ignore the mild discomfort, the Potions Master focused on the meal in front of him, eager to eat and retreat to the quiet sanctuary of his dungeon rooms. He’d been on alert all day, waiting to see which of the infernally annoying young bucks would succumb to the call of the enticing witch in heat.
Potter, no doubt.
He couldn’t help the mental sneering, any more than he could help the sudden comprehension that Hermione Granger was going to have sanctioned sex, on school grounds, some time this evening. That thought alone gave him pause.
In all the years he’d known her, the feisty Gryffindor Muggle-born had never ceased to take him by surprise. That she’d been the one to set his robes on fire, and had solved his complex puzzle, as a first year, hadn’t had as much impact on him as finding out that she’d been the one to hex Augustus Rookwood so badly that he’d sought amnesty and begged to be granted asylum at Hogwarts. That she’d been instrumental in furthering his research into unlocking the magical abilities in Squibs as her seventh year Potions project was just icing on the cake.
4. “Snape,” Voldemort all but hissed. “You left Our presence without our bidding!”
Oh, how Snape hated that royal ‘We’ the vile blowhard liked to use when he was at his most formal and intimidating. “Master, I have a boon to beg of you.”
One nearly invisible brow raised slightly on that too-smooth, too-pale face. “Speak. If it pleases Us, you may survive Our displeasure.”
“I left to fetch this, Master.” Snape unfurled the hand clutching the medallion-shaped phial. “With your permission…I wish to use it on the girl.”
“What is it?”
“Veritamoria, Master.”
For a moment, Voldemort almost looked uncomfortable; Severus guessed the git didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Then again, Veritamoria was extremely rare; this one phial had been secreted in the keeping of a distant branch of the family for decades, if not centuries, before a great-aunt in her dottage had unwisely decided that her great-nephew, the grand Potions Master of Hogwarts itself, deserved to inherit the treacherous brew. As far as he knew, no one in all of the British Isles outside of his mother’s side of the family even knew what the potion was, let alone how to use it properly.
Voldemort affected a face-saving sneer, hiding the fact that he didn’t know what Severus meant under a layer of sarcasm. “And that is important, how…?”
“It is a variation on Veritaserum. A…humiliating variation,” the Potions Master of Hogwarts added silkily. Miss Granger’s screams stopped, but only because the Death Eaters didn’t want her to pass out. Her panting and moaning filled the silence of her brief respite.
“Continue.”
“One dose, one ritual, one incantation, all properly applied…and she will become my slave, Master. Her mind will be forced open under the weight of mine.
5. She felt Snape's eyes upon her. She hadn't even seen him when she walked in, but she knew he was there, and even knew which corner of the room he was dwelling in. And she knew that, as usual, he was covertly watching her. She was certain that he was somehow satisfied by witnessing the anti-climactic conclusion of her first long-term attempt at romance. She didn't know what the surly Potions Master had had against her relationship with Ron Weasley, but anyone with half a brain could see that he had it in for them.
She felt angry, remembering the ridiculous little lecture he'd given them the night he caught them in the nook. Why the hell should the sour old bat care who she dated? She had the most absurd notion that that bizarre interlude had driven a wedge between her and Ron, was the source of some unbreachable barrier that kept her from ever truly connecting with her frustrated beau.
Her gaze sought him out in the shadows... though she couldn't see his face, she somehow knew their eyes were locked. She nodded curtly in acknowledgment of his triumph and, with a bitter taste in her mouth, took her own exit of the inn.
6. "'You've been staring at the Christmas decorations since we sat down for breakfast Hermione," said Harry. "They've been up for days, what's the fascination?"
"They've added mistletoe," said Hermione, frowning.
"So?" asked Ron, around a mouthful of toast. "Lots of people hang mistletoe for Christmas. What's the big deal?"
"Honestly, Ron. Don't you ever listen in Potions? Mistletoe is a powerful magical herb. If hung in the ancient way, a kiss beneath it can bind a witch and wizard in an unbreakable betrothal. We've never had mistletoe hung in the castle before."
"My grandmother hangs mistletoe all the time," replied Neville. "I don't remember any unbreakable betrothals. Its just a fun little tradition."
"That's because she probably either didn't use the full ancient binding charm or because the people who kissed under it weren't true soulmates."
Looking at the confused faces around her, Hermione sighed. "It acts sort of like a Love Potion." The boys still looked confused.
7. Dumbledore stepped forward to meet him. ‘Then you will do it?’
Severus felt the searing pain of the bone-crushing clamp as Dumbledore’s trap was neatly sprung. He stared at his mentor, his lips moving but no sound issuing from his throat.
‘She’ll be able to keep on with her schoolwork,’ the headmaster said soothingly, his hand reaching to clamp upon Severus’ shoulder. ‘No one need know if she visits your rooms frequently, for we can connect her Floo to yours. I know you will be discreet, and that you will teach her the necessity of discretion, as well.’
Severus gave a last feeble struggle against the snare in which he was caught. ‘She will be horrified,’ he whispered brokenly.
Dumbledore grasped his other shoulder and gently shook him. ‘She will not be horrified,’ he said quietly. ‘She will fix upon you, and you will become her touchstone, Severus. She will not know what is happening to her, or why she feels as she does, until you explain it to her. You must find it in your heart to be kind to her - emotionally kind - in addition to caring for her needs.
8. “I am not finished,” Severus said in an aggravated tone at being interrupted. “The problem is that the newborn has to come from the victim. If you conceive, the curse goes dormant, but it returns full force once the child is born.”
Gasps and worried looks filled the room. Starting to enjoy the discomfort of these people somewhat, Severus went on. “And the baby has to be conceived by the victim’s soul mate, as it were.” He sat down and watched the commotion he knew would follow that statement with suppressed glee. He wasn’t disappointed as everyone started talking at once.
“That’s right,” Draco put in. “And if the woman wasn’t married to or seeing the man who was her soul mate, the poor sod was found and forced to help.”
“Don’t worry, Hermione. We’ll make a baby,” Ron declared.
9. “Well, it’s supposed to be my curse, and I say we need his help!” she shot back, hands going to her hips as she straightened up on the ottoman. “You don’t go to a chimney sweep for masonry lessons, if you want to learn how to properly carve stone! You go to a sculptor!”
That silenced the youth. Severus, reading the diary, discovered she was right. The stranger had warned Black that Hermione Granger was going to be a target for the Cuorum Curse at the end of her seventh year, and that her destruction via the Dark spell would cause the Boy Who Lived to falter and fail at the crucial moment, causing the Dark Lord’s victory. This was the primary fate that the stranger in grey had prophesied, a particularly gruesome fate, unless someone who could apply the proper counter-spell chose to protect her.
10. ‘Severus…?’
‘Summoned to Voldemort,’ Dumbledore said shortly. He shook his head, his eyes darkening. ‘He may be getting to be a danger to himself.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Did you see Hermione Granger?’
‘No. Don’t tell me she-’
‘Her condition was critical when the Healer from St. Mungo’s arrived,' Dumbledore told her quietly, his eyes unfocused. ‘He looked agonized, Minerva. I have never, in the twenty-five years I have known him, seen him look that way. He would not- could not- work until I promised him she would live.’
‘Will she?’
‘I think so. I hope so.’ Dumbledore took her arm, needing the support it gave him and prepared to Disapparate.
‘If she dies...’ McGonagall let the question hang.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know whether he can survive without her. We shall have to hope we don’t ever find out.’
Kudos to sshg316 who came up with the idea for this quiz and then wrote down all the stories in rapid fire sequence while I stood back in amazement. All hail Shug! !
Match the story to the quote:
Forbidden Fruit by Lariv Snape
Recognition by Jezzie*
Master of Enchantment by Subversa
For Someone Special by Lady of the Masque
Under the Mistletoe by Valenque
The Love You Take by Subversa (WIP)
The Harlot’s Potion by Yutamiya
Protector by Lady of the Masque
Where Your Treasure Is by zeegrindylows
The Succubus by Southernwitch69
One Vital Ingredient by Cocochristy
Chosen by Desire by Snarkywench64
Blood of the Virgin Witch by Selened
*You will need to scroll down to find the story.
1. Hermione was transported back; back to the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, to the night she had held his body in her arms and experienced a spiritual completion right down to her very core -- and a stirring of rapture beyond her eighteen-year-old understanding.
Snape stood abruptly, breaking eye contact with her, and the vision in her mind dimmed. Transfiguring his clothes into a clutch of pebbles, Snape dropped them into the pocket of his robe, along with his wand. Hermione stared at him, stared, as he turned his back on her and strode to the door.
“Good night,” he said shortly, and left the building.
Hermione sat as if she had been hit with a Stunning spell. Inviolable rightness. INVIOLABLE. And yet he let her go away to Bulgaria for three years, ignored her owls, denied something hallowed, something sacrosanct. Hermione's entire body was trembling with an excess of emotion; she was quite suddenly so exhausted that she wasn't sure she could walk back to the room.
2. Yes, there is no way that I’d not know the difference now. He never made me feel the way that you do. What of you? Am I…different?” she asked hoping he’d share her sentiments.
“I hated the feeling of being stalked by a temptress. It was a new experience, and new things take time.” She wondered if he was trying to give her a hint about their newfound relationship. His voice seemed so cautious. Why did he feel the need to withhold things? “I wanted to have her. She seduced me fairly early on. I then found myself…thinking of you as well. At some point, the two of you became the same to me.”
Was this good? She wondered. “I see.”
“You don’t see. Let me think for a moment of how I should like to explain this,” he said in an irritated manner. Finally, he said, “I’ve realized lately that I know the difference. You are what I like. You don’t need to be as you were the night of the party for me. You appeal to me in your natural state. There is no need for glamours or tamed hair.”
Hermione was touched. So, he did want her
3. Choosing to ignore the mild discomfort, the Potions Master focused on the meal in front of him, eager to eat and retreat to the quiet sanctuary of his dungeon rooms. He’d been on alert all day, waiting to see which of the infernally annoying young bucks would succumb to the call of the enticing witch in heat.
Potter, no doubt.
He couldn’t help the mental sneering, any more than he could help the sudden comprehension that Hermione Granger was going to have sanctioned sex, on school grounds, some time this evening. That thought alone gave him pause.
In all the years he’d known her, the feisty Gryffindor Muggle-born had never ceased to take him by surprise. That she’d been the one to set his robes on fire, and had solved his complex puzzle, as a first year, hadn’t had as much impact on him as finding out that she’d been the one to hex Augustus Rookwood so badly that he’d sought amnesty and begged to be granted asylum at Hogwarts. That she’d been instrumental in furthering his research into unlocking the magical abilities in Squibs as her seventh year Potions project was just icing on the cake.
4. “Snape,” Voldemort all but hissed. “You left Our presence without our bidding!”
Oh, how Snape hated that royal ‘We’ the vile blowhard liked to use when he was at his most formal and intimidating. “Master, I have a boon to beg of you.”
One nearly invisible brow raised slightly on that too-smooth, too-pale face. “Speak. If it pleases Us, you may survive Our displeasure.”
“I left to fetch this, Master.” Snape unfurled the hand clutching the medallion-shaped phial. “With your permission…I wish to use it on the girl.”
“What is it?”
“Veritamoria, Master.”
For a moment, Voldemort almost looked uncomfortable; Severus guessed the git didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Then again, Veritamoria was extremely rare; this one phial had been secreted in the keeping of a distant branch of the family for decades, if not centuries, before a great-aunt in her dottage had unwisely decided that her great-nephew, the grand Potions Master of Hogwarts itself, deserved to inherit the treacherous brew. As far as he knew, no one in all of the British Isles outside of his mother’s side of the family even knew what the potion was, let alone how to use it properly.
Voldemort affected a face-saving sneer, hiding the fact that he didn’t know what Severus meant under a layer of sarcasm. “And that is important, how…?”
“It is a variation on Veritaserum. A…humiliating variation,” the Potions Master of Hogwarts added silkily. Miss Granger’s screams stopped, but only because the Death Eaters didn’t want her to pass out. Her panting and moaning filled the silence of her brief respite.
“Continue.”
“One dose, one ritual, one incantation, all properly applied…and she will become my slave, Master. Her mind will be forced open under the weight of mine.
5. She felt Snape's eyes upon her. She hadn't even seen him when she walked in, but she knew he was there, and even knew which corner of the room he was dwelling in. And she knew that, as usual, he was covertly watching her. She was certain that he was somehow satisfied by witnessing the anti-climactic conclusion of her first long-term attempt at romance. She didn't know what the surly Potions Master had had against her relationship with Ron Weasley, but anyone with half a brain could see that he had it in for them.
She felt angry, remembering the ridiculous little lecture he'd given them the night he caught them in the nook. Why the hell should the sour old bat care who she dated? She had the most absurd notion that that bizarre interlude had driven a wedge between her and Ron, was the source of some unbreachable barrier that kept her from ever truly connecting with her frustrated beau.
Her gaze sought him out in the shadows... though she couldn't see his face, she somehow knew their eyes were locked. She nodded curtly in acknowledgment of his triumph and, with a bitter taste in her mouth, took her own exit of the inn.
6. "'You've been staring at the Christmas decorations since we sat down for breakfast Hermione," said Harry. "They've been up for days, what's the fascination?"
"They've added mistletoe," said Hermione, frowning.
"So?" asked Ron, around a mouthful of toast. "Lots of people hang mistletoe for Christmas. What's the big deal?"
"Honestly, Ron. Don't you ever listen in Potions? Mistletoe is a powerful magical herb. If hung in the ancient way, a kiss beneath it can bind a witch and wizard in an unbreakable betrothal. We've never had mistletoe hung in the castle before."
"My grandmother hangs mistletoe all the time," replied Neville. "I don't remember any unbreakable betrothals. Its just a fun little tradition."
"That's because she probably either didn't use the full ancient binding charm or because the people who kissed under it weren't true soulmates."
Looking at the confused faces around her, Hermione sighed. "It acts sort of like a Love Potion." The boys still looked confused.
7. Dumbledore stepped forward to meet him. ‘Then you will do it?’
Severus felt the searing pain of the bone-crushing clamp as Dumbledore’s trap was neatly sprung. He stared at his mentor, his lips moving but no sound issuing from his throat.
‘She’ll be able to keep on with her schoolwork,’ the headmaster said soothingly, his hand reaching to clamp upon Severus’ shoulder. ‘No one need know if she visits your rooms frequently, for we can connect her Floo to yours. I know you will be discreet, and that you will teach her the necessity of discretion, as well.’
Severus gave a last feeble struggle against the snare in which he was caught. ‘She will be horrified,’ he whispered brokenly.
Dumbledore grasped his other shoulder and gently shook him. ‘She will not be horrified,’ he said quietly. ‘She will fix upon you, and you will become her touchstone, Severus. She will not know what is happening to her, or why she feels as she does, until you explain it to her. You must find it in your heart to be kind to her - emotionally kind - in addition to caring for her needs.
8. “I am not finished,” Severus said in an aggravated tone at being interrupted. “The problem is that the newborn has to come from the victim. If you conceive, the curse goes dormant, but it returns full force once the child is born.”
Gasps and worried looks filled the room. Starting to enjoy the discomfort of these people somewhat, Severus went on. “And the baby has to be conceived by the victim’s soul mate, as it were.” He sat down and watched the commotion he knew would follow that statement with suppressed glee. He wasn’t disappointed as everyone started talking at once.
“That’s right,” Draco put in. “And if the woman wasn’t married to or seeing the man who was her soul mate, the poor sod was found and forced to help.”
“Don’t worry, Hermione. We’ll make a baby,” Ron declared.
9. “Well, it’s supposed to be my curse, and I say we need his help!” she shot back, hands going to her hips as she straightened up on the ottoman. “You don’t go to a chimney sweep for masonry lessons, if you want to learn how to properly carve stone! You go to a sculptor!”
That silenced the youth. Severus, reading the diary, discovered she was right. The stranger had warned Black that Hermione Granger was going to be a target for the Cuorum Curse at the end of her seventh year, and that her destruction via the Dark spell would cause the Boy Who Lived to falter and fail at the crucial moment, causing the Dark Lord’s victory. This was the primary fate that the stranger in grey had prophesied, a particularly gruesome fate, unless someone who could apply the proper counter-spell chose to protect her.
10. ‘Severus…?’
‘Summoned to Voldemort,’ Dumbledore said shortly. He shook his head, his eyes darkening. ‘He may be getting to be a danger to himself.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Did you see Hermione Granger?’
‘No. Don’t tell me she-’
‘Her condition was critical when the Healer from St. Mungo’s arrived,' Dumbledore told her quietly, his eyes unfocused. ‘He looked agonized, Minerva. I have never, in the twenty-five years I have known him, seen him look that way. He would not- could not- work until I promised him she would live.’
‘Will she?’
‘I think so. I hope so.’ Dumbledore took her arm, needing the support it gave him and prepared to Disapparate.
‘If she dies...’ McGonagall let the question hang.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know whether he can survive without her. We shall have to hope we don’t ever find out.’