Classic round nominations quiz
You all know that the sshg_awards is currently taking votes for the best of the classic stories.* It should come of no surprise that I was unable to resist turning the nominations into a quiz. In fact this quiz kept growing and growing and is now double the usual size. What can I say? I am a sucker for a well written story. Enjoy dear fan girls, I know I did.
*Have you voted yet? Get moving!
Match the story to the quote:
Arithmantic Dating Agency by Shiv5468
House of Fallen Angels by Rillalicious
The Succubus by southernwitch69
Ordinary People by Hayseed_42
Master of Enchantment by Subvers
Heart With No Companion by Michmak
Before the Dawn by SnarkyRoxy
A Choice of Roads by Imhilien (WIP)
What E’re Therein is Promised by Deeble
Wrapped Around Your Finger by Jade Orchid
Damn We Missed the Reception by Snarkywench_64
Terrible Temptation by barrieQuark
Cloak of Courage by WendyNat
The Buried Life by Kalinalea
Calling Card by Bambu345
The Wrong Side Won by pearle9240
Unfinished Business by Ramos
Letter From Exile One Merciful Morning by textualsphinx
Heart over Mind by Regann
Teacher’s Pet by didodikali
Gift Horse by Quillusion
An Army of Snapes by LadyoftheMasque
Tyger! Tyger! by yanniconny
Golem by LillithJ (WIP)
Who Do You Want? by Bonsaibetz
The Trail of the Black Star by mundungus42
1. Sitting upright, excitement colored his voice, Blaise exclaimed, “That’s a Mishima box! When did you get it, Severus?”
Severus sat up, as if Imperio’ed to attention. His mind had wandered as the younger wizard chatted about his recent marriage to Lavender Brown. ‘Pretty and passably intelligent’ had been his original assessment, and it hadn’t changed since she’d been his student. However, anything relating to his puzzle box was guaranteed to grab his interest, and his eyes pierced through his protégé’s excitement, “What are you talking about, Blaise?”
“That box you’re holding. It’s the customized calling card of Mishima, Ltd. Very impressive, Severus. Mishima’s incredibly difficult to contract; we hired them to rework the Estate’s wards a couple of years ago, and we’d been on the waiting list for three years before that. They rarely accept commissions within Britain… in fact, they’ve only begun to work in Europe recently, and you never meet their representatives. It’s their policy; something about eliminating all possible avenues for reprisal. They’re pricey and highly confidential, but worth every Galleon. Not a single Mishima client has ever been breached. You know how many threats I’ve had since the end of the war. Security has been a priority. So, what was in yours?”
2. "I would have you know that Hermione was wedded by the most ancient and sacred rites of our people. But if it proves my good will," he all but snarled, considering the circumstances he held himself in fairly well, "I will make sacrifices to... Who is it most of the Muggles in these parts worship? Jesu? I will sacrifice an offering to Jesu. It's a blood cult, isn't it? Is a pig all right or would you like something bigger?"
The Mother turned a delicate shade of green.
The Father turned purple.
It was a nice contrast really.
The father was quicker on the uptake. "So you married The Count here?" he bellowed at his daughter.
"Viscount," Severus corrected him absently.
"Excuse me?" the Muggle blinked.
"Severus Antonio Propertius Drusus Nero Snape, Potions master, Viscount of Londinium Orriens, Order of Merlin First Class... in case you were wondering." He frowned at the Muggle.
3. Astonished as she was to see him in her warehouse, he looked nearly as surprised to find himself there. He turned his head to look down the rows of cauldrons, hundreds and hundreds awaiting brews, and turned back to her, a horrified expression settling on his face.
“The market in all of wizarding Europe isn't large enough to warrant such a massive set-up,” he said softly, his voice carrying clearly. “Would you please explain the meaning of this?”
She grasped her lone chair for support, heart trying mightily to beat out of her chest. “I rather think I'm the one owed an explanation.”
“What … have … you … done?” he demanded, striding down the nearest gangway.
“I've done nothing but make potions. You really must leave-”
4. She moved suddenly, with the swiftness of a pouncing cat, and before he could blink she had moved to straddle him as he sat on the bench. He thought he heard the faintest murmur of a spell, muffled by the rustle of swirling fabric as she moved. Startled, he sat up partway, the movement bringing his groin up against hers. He sucked in a faint breath-
And noticed that her scent had changed. This one he knew. He was positive he knew it. She'd been masking it all along- the clever witch.
There was only one witch he knew who was that clever. Could it be?…
Before his brain could catalog the essences of her fragrant skin, the moon came out from behind a cloud, and when she tugged the shawl free from her head, a wealth of curly hair sprang forth to swirl around her shoulders in the moonlight. The silver illumination poured down over familiar cheeks and nose, and pooled in the apprehensive liquid eyes of Hermione Granger.
5. But suddenly Hermione felt a strange tugging feeling inside her, and the room seemed to lurch for a moment. Startled, Hermione jerked slightly, and Professor Snape held her at arms length, staring sharply down into her eyes as if he was looking for something in particular.
“I see there isn’t much time left here for you, but you must listen to me Hermione, for this is important. In hindsight I see why…” he said urgently.
Hermione stared at him. “What is it?” she asked, ignoring the fact that by now her sheet had slipped down completely.
“When you return to your own time - yes, I know this to be true for it has happened - if you truly want to be with me here one day, you must keep your distance and your feelings hidden from me while you continue to be at Hogwarts. No matter what.”
“But why?” Hermione asked, startled. If she did so, then how would this future come about?
There was a look of anger on his face, though Hermione sensed it was directed at himself. “If I could go back in time and knock some sense into the fool that I was I would do so… I was vicious to you then because I could not cope with how I felt towards you, a student at the time.” He brushed her cheek gently with a pale hand. “I was cruel when I should not have been, my little Know-It-All, but I know I would eventually be crueller if you return and look at me like that… with your heart in your eyes as you are doing.”
6. Keeping the enraged man where she could see him in case he tried to ‘Accio’ her prize, she skimmed the table of contents for whatever had brassed him off so thoroughly. It wasn’t difficult to find; the fourth major article announced a new addition to the list of forbidden poisons, designated as the Deadly Knightcap Variation, as discovered by Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and...
“They’re JOKING! Neville LONGBOTTOM?” Hermione screeched in disbelief. “This was Professor Dumbledore’s idea, wasn’t it?”
The look on Severus Snape’s face could have pickled every specimen on his shelves. “Yes,” he enunciated through a teeth-clenched grimace. “Professor Dumbledore felt it would bolster the young man’s self esteem.”
“Oh, be serious! Neville is a botanist, not a potions brewer.”
“Mr. Longbottom did hit upon the flaw in the Knightime Knockout drops,” Severus admitted, albeit in a pained voice. “It would only be fair.”
Hermione was surprised he hadn’t choked on that remark. “Somehow,” she observed archly, “I think it has more to do with the Ministry still thinking you poisoned me deliberately.”
7. "Sev, ya bastard -
(See? everyone calls me that;) GOTCHA!
Read about what happened and we’re uncorking the champagne right now. We’ve been willing you to take drugs or embezzle the school funds for years. Well, well my son - you’ve gone beyond our wildest dreams here! We don’t want your morals, just your brains - if you haven’t ejaculated them, HA HA HA. (They’re very blokey - only ever talk about money or Quidditch; another reason I dropped them, plus I hate being called ‘Sev’.) "Start next Monday - 40 galleons a month plus the bonus you’re bringing in." ’
[A series of chuckles had rippled through the Slytherin table. If ‘Sev’s mates were rooting for him, why shouldn’t they?]
8. He had just tied the bundle to Hermes’ leg and sent him on his way when he heard Harry make a choking sound from behind him. Severus whirled, spotting the boy as he crumpled to the ground and he raced to him in a panic. The boy’s snowy owl jumped about him in agitation, as he lay sprawled on the straw. He shouldn’t have taken his eyes off the troublesome brat for an instant.
“Out of the way, you stupid bird.” He snarled and grabbed the boy, readying a diagnostic spell to check the boy’s condition. The instant his hands closed about Potter’s shoulders there was a moment of dizziness, a feeling of dislocation, as though he was apparating, and then he blacked out.
Severus awoke in the Hospital Wing with no memory of how he had gotten there. He usually ended up here after Voldemort had summoned him, but he didn’t feel any of the particular agonies associated with that, so it must be something else.
9. Today was the day I had to bathe Remus. I hate drugging him, but I would prefer not to be torn limb from limb. I keep his small living area immaculate; I have no idea how he acquires such a layer of filth in one week’s time. Washing his hair is my favorite part. His whole body relaxes when I wash his hair and I can see shadows of the man he used to be. I wonder what he thinks when he wakes up clean, if he even notices.
I have decided to start working with Severus, to see if his lucid periods can be extended. He seems to respond well when I use his first name, actually making eye contact for a second or more. Of all the angels besides George, I think Severus has the best chance of a decent life. I must be well on the road to insanity; I just referred to Severus Snape as an angel. There is so much despair in this house; I latch on to hope wherever I can find it.
10. However, he found that it was surprisingly difficult to find out who was behind the agency. He had found another advertisement, completed it in Remus’s name and then despatched it with a simple tracking spell on the owl. Too simple apparently. Although the charm was effective until the owl reached the outskirts of London, at that point the charm flickered, faltered, and then failed.
So, he had narrowed the search area down to London. He consoled himself with the thought that it wasn’t bad for a first attempt and he wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating his opponent again.
As a pleasant little bonus to the whole episode, several days later Remus received a howler at the breakfast table.
Remus Lupin, it shrieked.
How dare you try and breach the security of this organisation, it went. The Arithmantic Dating Agency promises complete confidentiality to its clients. If you ever try something like this again, I will hex your balls off and make sure that you NEVER get another girlfriend for as long as you live.
11. Hermione also found herself shocked at how ignorant the wizards doing the publishing seemed to be. Wizards were so wrapped up in the application of magic, they'd never bothered with the theory of it. Through all of her vast research, Hermione couldn't find a single wizard or witch who had made an honest attempt at determining the origin of magic or even the mechanics of it.
So she delved deeper, the selfish drive to answer her own questions pushing her. Hermione slowly began integrating her Muggle education into her wizarding one, trying to think of magic in terms of biochemistry, in terms of physics, in terms of mathematics. Boldly, she'd begun to submit her ideas in paper form to various journals through anonymous owl post under the initials H.G. Right off the bat, Hermione realized that she would never be taken seriously as a sixteen year old witch just beginning her sixth year of training, so she took great care not to give away any hints as to her identity.
She had been greatly surprised when her first paper was accepted immediately for publication in a fairly prominent journal.
12. “I will tell you when I’ve completed my training,” she informed them tartly. “Until then…my earlier comment applies.”
Harry shifted his position until he was kneeling, resting his folded arms on Hermione’s bent knees, a stance which allowed him to see her face. “You’ve been keeping a good number of secrets from us,” he reminded her quietly. “First the hayam business and now the Animagus stuff. I’m bound to wonder…what else are you hiding?”
“Nothing!” she protested, not at all easy with the mischievous glint in those green eyes. “It’s just…some things are very private for me, alright?” And I’m worried that you’ll never speak to me again if I tell you about Snape. Why ruin our friendship over a seriously one-sided infatuation?
“Uh huh,” he said, not convinced. “Still we’ve always told you who we had crushes on. It doesn’t seem fair that you won’t tell us who your soul-mate is.”
“Well, I told you who it wasn’t,” she reminded him.
13. "Yes," Sirius whispered. "Now. Do it now."
Snape looked utterly bewildered, but he held out his hand for the coin Dumbledore held, since Black so obviously wanted him to have it. He felt a strange tingling sensation in his palm followed by a warmth that spread through his hand and up his arm. He looked at Dumbledore in surprise. "What is it?" he asked.
"I believe that you’ve just been made Harry’s godfather," Dumbledore said quietly, still looking at Sirius, who nodded briefly and then closed his eyes.
Harry stared at Snape, who clutched the coin in his hand and stared right back at him.
"Albus?" Snape said, and there was an edge of panic in his normally smooth voice.
"Perhaps that discussion should wait until later," Dumbledore answered, nodding at the bed. "We have more immediate concerns right now. Do you know of any way we can make him more comfortable?"
14. Tonks pulled two ordinary looking door keys from her jeans pocket, and showed them to Hermione. “One of my mates at work took a couple of rooms at an inn, right near the shore. He can’t go this weekend, so he offered the place to me, and naturally, I thought of you lot.” Tonks looked from Hermione to Snape with suppressed excitement. “Go on, you know you want to! We can just laze around, drink lots of fancy drinks with pink umbrellas, and tell stories about everyone we know. It’ll be brilliant.”
Snape’s lips thinned derisively. “I think not.”
Hermione grabbed a key out of Tonks’s hand. “Paradise, Tonks. It sounds divine.”
Remus Lupin strode into the room, a knapsack in his hand. He wore a light blue polo shirt, neatly tucked into his jeans and deck shoes with no socks. He dropped the knapsack onto the tabletop, and crossed his arms across his broad chest. “Come on, you two, time’s a-wasting. If we hurry, we can be there in time for the sunset over the sea and at least one pitcher of some Muggle frozen drink concoction.” He mused for a moment. “Maybe two.”
15. They will pay. I will make them pay.
Her hand shook.
You cannot bring back the dead.
The toothbrush dropped from her hand, falling noiselessly to the plush carpet surrounding the sink area. She stared at it a moment before bending to pick it up.
Firmly pushing all thought from her mind, she mechanically completed her tasks and left the bathroom. Making her way across the dark room, she hesitated at the other door for a moment. She identified the low voices as belonging to Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore. Just as she was about to open the door fully and make her presence known, she heard something that made her freeze.
“Did you tell her the plan, yet?” It was Dumbledore speaking.
16. He flinched at the look I shot him. ‘Mr. Potter - must you come by every few days to ask me the same questions? I’m getting rather tired of it.’
‘I can’t help it if I don’t trust him,’ he retorted sullenly. ‘You wouldn’t either, if you knew him like I do.’
‘I know him better than you do, Mr. Potter,’ I retorted angrily. ‘Honestly! What makes you think you know him at all? Just because he was your professor for a few years?’
‘He’s always been a miserable git! He’s never liked anyone - he’s never liked me!’
‘He liked you well enough to save your life!’ I snapped back. ‘Or have you forgotten that?’
Potter flushed, ‘I haven’t forgotten. But Hermione... she’s like this because of him.’
‘You hate the Professor because of a choice Miss Granger made?’ My voice was incredulous. ‘He didn’t ask for any of this you know. None of it. Yet it seems to me, for a man who doesn’t like anyone, he’s pulled the wool over a lot of people’s eyes. Professor Dumbledore seems to like him, and he strikes me as an intelligent man. Minerva likes him; I like him. I’m betting that your Hermione here loves him.’
‘Don’t say that!’ he shouted suddenly. ‘She doesn’t love him.’
‘She does, Potter.’ I had stopped brushing Miss Granger’s hair as we spoke, and found myself now looking intently at the boy. ‘Look at her - she looks like a woman in love.’
‘She looks like a woman in a coma,’ Harry retorted bitterly.
‘That too,’ I agreed. ‘
17. Everyone stared at the smouldering boots in the front courtyard of the school, as Harry Potter--all seven surviving Harry Potters--lowered their wands. It was over. All around them, the Death Eaters had fallen to a wave of Potters, and Grangers…and an army of Severus Snapes. From the sheer number of them, Hermione suspected he’d used up the other jar, focusing firmly on the existential need to protect the students, the staff…and herself especially. Tag-team partners of duplicate Grangers and Snapes fighting back-to-back had proved to be a particularly dangerous combination. Now it was all over.
Both of them were safe; she could tell just by looking at him which of the identical, dark-clad figures was her long-denied lover. The right side of the war had finally won, thanks in part to their own duplicated efforts, and thanks in the larger part to the efforts of all the others. As the Aurors finished disarming the last of the Death Eaters, the air of the school, redolent with the smells of scorched stone, spilled blood, and hints of carob, started filling with odd banff-noises. In ones and twos, the duplicates winked out of existence. Including the line of Potters that had confronted the confounded Dark Lord at the bitter end.
18. Hermione set the check on the desk and peered down on Eddie’s spiked blond head bent over the first of five crates off to the side of the desk.
“Anything interesting?” she asked.
“You never know with Griffin,” he said and set a group of leather covered books on his desk. “Griffin always has some surprises in his runs.” He reached back into the crate. “Hullo, what’s this then?” He pulled out and almost dropped a smallish battered brown book. “What do you make of this, love?”
Hermione took the book and also almost dropped it. “There’s quite a series of wards and charms on this one.” She shook her right hand like it had been burned and carefully flipped through the pages. “Does the name, at least I think its a name, mean anything? Maharal...” She showed him the printed word on the inside front cover.
“Not a thing, Ducks.” Eddie shook his head. “Thought you were the expert on wizards weird, wise and wonderful.”
“Yes,” acknowledged Hermione with a smile. “But you’re the expert on books battered, borrowed and bizarre.”
“Too true,” Eddie returned the smile. He was warming to their traditional game. “Though this tome is too terribly tranced for my talents”
“Urrrgh,” Hermione groaned. She held up her hand to shield herself from further alliteration. “Please not before coffee.”
19. It was Dumbledore who inadvertently gave him the idea to start writing down his adventures for publication. He'd just returned from a trip to India where he'd done some reconnaissance for Dumbledore and freed Siripadma the Siren from an arranged marriage to an elderly traditionalist by selflessly taking her virginity on the eve of her wedding. Fortunately, Severus had the foresight to introduce her to a dashing young mediwizard with a much more worldly philosophy before extricating himself from the situation. However, he still unwittingly sported a prominent love bite on the underside of his chin when he next visited Albus. Dumbledore twinkled at him suggestively and referred to an author with whom Severus was unfamiliar before healing the bruise and shooing him back to Hogwarts. But if the name Felicity Underalls was the name her parents had given her, he'd eat a flobberworm.
He was surprised to discover several of Felicity Underalls' books in his drawer of items confiscated from potions students over the years; usually items that the students were too embarrassed to request returned. Absently, he read a few pages of La Belle Dame of the Golden West. Utter tripe, naturally- full of the reinforcing stereotypes typical of the genre that led to expectations of handsome princes on white chargers.
It was then that he had the Idea. He dismissed it immediately, but it refused to stay dismissed. The next day he began writing.
20. She shrugged. “Harry or Ron might begin to wonder where I am.”
Snape cocked an eyebrow mockingly at her statement. “I believe that the last time I saw them, their attentions were captivated by the wiles and charms of others of your fairer sex.”
She tried not to take offense at his tone for, once again, he was correct. Harry was still a newlywed, having been married for less than a year; he and Luna were so kissy-kissy in love that it was sometimes bordering on revolting. Ron was home for the Quidditch off-season, and he had his own little harem of diehard groupies. Last she’d seen, he’d left his date, a tall brunette by the name of Inga, talking to Neville Longbottom, and had been surrounded by not one, not two, but three blondes, all draping their various body parts over his and hanging on his every word.
“Yeah… we’re definitely stuck in here.”
*Have you voted yet? Get moving!
Match the story to the quote:
Arithmantic Dating Agency by Shiv5468
House of Fallen Angels by Rillalicious
The Succubus by southernwitch69
Ordinary People by Hayseed_42
Master of Enchantment by Subvers
Heart With No Companion by Michmak
Before the Dawn by SnarkyRoxy
A Choice of Roads by Imhilien (WIP)
What E’re Therein is Promised by Deeble
Wrapped Around Your Finger by Jade Orchid
Damn We Missed the Reception by Snarkywench_64
Terrible Temptation by barrieQuark
Cloak of Courage by WendyNat
The Buried Life by Kalinalea
Calling Card by Bambu345
The Wrong Side Won by pearle9240
Unfinished Business by Ramos
Letter From Exile One Merciful Morning by textualsphinx
Heart over Mind by Regann
Teacher’s Pet by didodikali
Gift Horse by Quillusion
An Army of Snapes by LadyoftheMasque
Tyger! Tyger! by yanniconny
Golem by LillithJ (WIP)
Who Do You Want? by Bonsaibetz
The Trail of the Black Star by mundungus42
1. Sitting upright, excitement colored his voice, Blaise exclaimed, “That’s a Mishima box! When did you get it, Severus?”
Severus sat up, as if Imperio’ed to attention. His mind had wandered as the younger wizard chatted about his recent marriage to Lavender Brown. ‘Pretty and passably intelligent’ had been his original assessment, and it hadn’t changed since she’d been his student. However, anything relating to his puzzle box was guaranteed to grab his interest, and his eyes pierced through his protégé’s excitement, “What are you talking about, Blaise?”
“That box you’re holding. It’s the customized calling card of Mishima, Ltd. Very impressive, Severus. Mishima’s incredibly difficult to contract; we hired them to rework the Estate’s wards a couple of years ago, and we’d been on the waiting list for three years before that. They rarely accept commissions within Britain… in fact, they’ve only begun to work in Europe recently, and you never meet their representatives. It’s their policy; something about eliminating all possible avenues for reprisal. They’re pricey and highly confidential, but worth every Galleon. Not a single Mishima client has ever been breached. You know how many threats I’ve had since the end of the war. Security has been a priority. So, what was in yours?”
2. "I would have you know that Hermione was wedded by the most ancient and sacred rites of our people. But if it proves my good will," he all but snarled, considering the circumstances he held himself in fairly well, "I will make sacrifices to... Who is it most of the Muggles in these parts worship? Jesu? I will sacrifice an offering to Jesu. It's a blood cult, isn't it? Is a pig all right or would you like something bigger?"
The Mother turned a delicate shade of green.
The Father turned purple.
It was a nice contrast really.
The father was quicker on the uptake. "So you married The Count here?" he bellowed at his daughter.
"Viscount," Severus corrected him absently.
"Excuse me?" the Muggle blinked.
"Severus Antonio Propertius Drusus Nero Snape, Potions master, Viscount of Londinium Orriens, Order of Merlin First Class... in case you were wondering." He frowned at the Muggle.
3. Astonished as she was to see him in her warehouse, he looked nearly as surprised to find himself there. He turned his head to look down the rows of cauldrons, hundreds and hundreds awaiting brews, and turned back to her, a horrified expression settling on his face.
“The market in all of wizarding Europe isn't large enough to warrant such a massive set-up,” he said softly, his voice carrying clearly. “Would you please explain the meaning of this?”
She grasped her lone chair for support, heart trying mightily to beat out of her chest. “I rather think I'm the one owed an explanation.”
“What … have … you … done?” he demanded, striding down the nearest gangway.
“I've done nothing but make potions. You really must leave-”
4. She moved suddenly, with the swiftness of a pouncing cat, and before he could blink she had moved to straddle him as he sat on the bench. He thought he heard the faintest murmur of a spell, muffled by the rustle of swirling fabric as she moved. Startled, he sat up partway, the movement bringing his groin up against hers. He sucked in a faint breath-
And noticed that her scent had changed. This one he knew. He was positive he knew it. She'd been masking it all along- the clever witch.
There was only one witch he knew who was that clever. Could it be?…
Before his brain could catalog the essences of her fragrant skin, the moon came out from behind a cloud, and when she tugged the shawl free from her head, a wealth of curly hair sprang forth to swirl around her shoulders in the moonlight. The silver illumination poured down over familiar cheeks and nose, and pooled in the apprehensive liquid eyes of Hermione Granger.
5. But suddenly Hermione felt a strange tugging feeling inside her, and the room seemed to lurch for a moment. Startled, Hermione jerked slightly, and Professor Snape held her at arms length, staring sharply down into her eyes as if he was looking for something in particular.
“I see there isn’t much time left here for you, but you must listen to me Hermione, for this is important. In hindsight I see why…” he said urgently.
Hermione stared at him. “What is it?” she asked, ignoring the fact that by now her sheet had slipped down completely.
“When you return to your own time - yes, I know this to be true for it has happened - if you truly want to be with me here one day, you must keep your distance and your feelings hidden from me while you continue to be at Hogwarts. No matter what.”
“But why?” Hermione asked, startled. If she did so, then how would this future come about?
There was a look of anger on his face, though Hermione sensed it was directed at himself. “If I could go back in time and knock some sense into the fool that I was I would do so… I was vicious to you then because I could not cope with how I felt towards you, a student at the time.” He brushed her cheek gently with a pale hand. “I was cruel when I should not have been, my little Know-It-All, but I know I would eventually be crueller if you return and look at me like that… with your heart in your eyes as you are doing.”
6. Keeping the enraged man where she could see him in case he tried to ‘Accio’ her prize, she skimmed the table of contents for whatever had brassed him off so thoroughly. It wasn’t difficult to find; the fourth major article announced a new addition to the list of forbidden poisons, designated as the Deadly Knightcap Variation, as discovered by Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and...
“They’re JOKING! Neville LONGBOTTOM?” Hermione screeched in disbelief. “This was Professor Dumbledore’s idea, wasn’t it?”
The look on Severus Snape’s face could have pickled every specimen on his shelves. “Yes,” he enunciated through a teeth-clenched grimace. “Professor Dumbledore felt it would bolster the young man’s self esteem.”
“Oh, be serious! Neville is a botanist, not a potions brewer.”
“Mr. Longbottom did hit upon the flaw in the Knightime Knockout drops,” Severus admitted, albeit in a pained voice. “It would only be fair.”
Hermione was surprised he hadn’t choked on that remark. “Somehow,” she observed archly, “I think it has more to do with the Ministry still thinking you poisoned me deliberately.”
7. "Sev, ya bastard -
(See? everyone calls me that;) GOTCHA!
Read about what happened and we’re uncorking the champagne right now. We’ve been willing you to take drugs or embezzle the school funds for years. Well, well my son - you’ve gone beyond our wildest dreams here! We don’t want your morals, just your brains - if you haven’t ejaculated them, HA HA HA. (They’re very blokey - only ever talk about money or Quidditch; another reason I dropped them, plus I hate being called ‘Sev’.) "Start next Monday - 40 galleons a month plus the bonus you’re bringing in." ’
[A series of chuckles had rippled through the Slytherin table. If ‘Sev’s mates were rooting for him, why shouldn’t they?]
8. He had just tied the bundle to Hermes’ leg and sent him on his way when he heard Harry make a choking sound from behind him. Severus whirled, spotting the boy as he crumpled to the ground and he raced to him in a panic. The boy’s snowy owl jumped about him in agitation, as he lay sprawled on the straw. He shouldn’t have taken his eyes off the troublesome brat for an instant.
“Out of the way, you stupid bird.” He snarled and grabbed the boy, readying a diagnostic spell to check the boy’s condition. The instant his hands closed about Potter’s shoulders there was a moment of dizziness, a feeling of dislocation, as though he was apparating, and then he blacked out.
Severus awoke in the Hospital Wing with no memory of how he had gotten there. He usually ended up here after Voldemort had summoned him, but he didn’t feel any of the particular agonies associated with that, so it must be something else.
9. Today was the day I had to bathe Remus. I hate drugging him, but I would prefer not to be torn limb from limb. I keep his small living area immaculate; I have no idea how he acquires such a layer of filth in one week’s time. Washing his hair is my favorite part. His whole body relaxes when I wash his hair and I can see shadows of the man he used to be. I wonder what he thinks when he wakes up clean, if he even notices.
I have decided to start working with Severus, to see if his lucid periods can be extended. He seems to respond well when I use his first name, actually making eye contact for a second or more. Of all the angels besides George, I think Severus has the best chance of a decent life. I must be well on the road to insanity; I just referred to Severus Snape as an angel. There is so much despair in this house; I latch on to hope wherever I can find it.
10. However, he found that it was surprisingly difficult to find out who was behind the agency. He had found another advertisement, completed it in Remus’s name and then despatched it with a simple tracking spell on the owl. Too simple apparently. Although the charm was effective until the owl reached the outskirts of London, at that point the charm flickered, faltered, and then failed.
So, he had narrowed the search area down to London. He consoled himself with the thought that it wasn’t bad for a first attempt and he wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating his opponent again.
As a pleasant little bonus to the whole episode, several days later Remus received a howler at the breakfast table.
Remus Lupin, it shrieked.
How dare you try and breach the security of this organisation, it went. The Arithmantic Dating Agency promises complete confidentiality to its clients. If you ever try something like this again, I will hex your balls off and make sure that you NEVER get another girlfriend for as long as you live.
11. Hermione also found herself shocked at how ignorant the wizards doing the publishing seemed to be. Wizards were so wrapped up in the application of magic, they'd never bothered with the theory of it. Through all of her vast research, Hermione couldn't find a single wizard or witch who had made an honest attempt at determining the origin of magic or even the mechanics of it.
So she delved deeper, the selfish drive to answer her own questions pushing her. Hermione slowly began integrating her Muggle education into her wizarding one, trying to think of magic in terms of biochemistry, in terms of physics, in terms of mathematics. Boldly, she'd begun to submit her ideas in paper form to various journals through anonymous owl post under the initials H.G. Right off the bat, Hermione realized that she would never be taken seriously as a sixteen year old witch just beginning her sixth year of training, so she took great care not to give away any hints as to her identity.
She had been greatly surprised when her first paper was accepted immediately for publication in a fairly prominent journal.
12. “I will tell you when I’ve completed my training,” she informed them tartly. “Until then…my earlier comment applies.”
Harry shifted his position until he was kneeling, resting his folded arms on Hermione’s bent knees, a stance which allowed him to see her face. “You’ve been keeping a good number of secrets from us,” he reminded her quietly. “First the hayam business and now the Animagus stuff. I’m bound to wonder…what else are you hiding?”
“Nothing!” she protested, not at all easy with the mischievous glint in those green eyes. “It’s just…some things are very private for me, alright?” And I’m worried that you’ll never speak to me again if I tell you about Snape. Why ruin our friendship over a seriously one-sided infatuation?
“Uh huh,” he said, not convinced. “Still we’ve always told you who we had crushes on. It doesn’t seem fair that you won’t tell us who your soul-mate is.”
“Well, I told you who it wasn’t,” she reminded him.
13. "Yes," Sirius whispered. "Now. Do it now."
Snape looked utterly bewildered, but he held out his hand for the coin Dumbledore held, since Black so obviously wanted him to have it. He felt a strange tingling sensation in his palm followed by a warmth that spread through his hand and up his arm. He looked at Dumbledore in surprise. "What is it?" he asked.
"I believe that you’ve just been made Harry’s godfather," Dumbledore said quietly, still looking at Sirius, who nodded briefly and then closed his eyes.
Harry stared at Snape, who clutched the coin in his hand and stared right back at him.
"Albus?" Snape said, and there was an edge of panic in his normally smooth voice.
"Perhaps that discussion should wait until later," Dumbledore answered, nodding at the bed. "We have more immediate concerns right now. Do you know of any way we can make him more comfortable?"
14. Tonks pulled two ordinary looking door keys from her jeans pocket, and showed them to Hermione. “One of my mates at work took a couple of rooms at an inn, right near the shore. He can’t go this weekend, so he offered the place to me, and naturally, I thought of you lot.” Tonks looked from Hermione to Snape with suppressed excitement. “Go on, you know you want to! We can just laze around, drink lots of fancy drinks with pink umbrellas, and tell stories about everyone we know. It’ll be brilliant.”
Snape’s lips thinned derisively. “I think not.”
Hermione grabbed a key out of Tonks’s hand. “Paradise, Tonks. It sounds divine.”
Remus Lupin strode into the room, a knapsack in his hand. He wore a light blue polo shirt, neatly tucked into his jeans and deck shoes with no socks. He dropped the knapsack onto the tabletop, and crossed his arms across his broad chest. “Come on, you two, time’s a-wasting. If we hurry, we can be there in time for the sunset over the sea and at least one pitcher of some Muggle frozen drink concoction.” He mused for a moment. “Maybe two.”
15. They will pay. I will make them pay.
Her hand shook.
You cannot bring back the dead.
The toothbrush dropped from her hand, falling noiselessly to the plush carpet surrounding the sink area. She stared at it a moment before bending to pick it up.
Firmly pushing all thought from her mind, she mechanically completed her tasks and left the bathroom. Making her way across the dark room, she hesitated at the other door for a moment. She identified the low voices as belonging to Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore. Just as she was about to open the door fully and make her presence known, she heard something that made her freeze.
“Did you tell her the plan, yet?” It was Dumbledore speaking.
16. He flinched at the look I shot him. ‘Mr. Potter - must you come by every few days to ask me the same questions? I’m getting rather tired of it.’
‘I can’t help it if I don’t trust him,’ he retorted sullenly. ‘You wouldn’t either, if you knew him like I do.’
‘I know him better than you do, Mr. Potter,’ I retorted angrily. ‘Honestly! What makes you think you know him at all? Just because he was your professor for a few years?’
‘He’s always been a miserable git! He’s never liked anyone - he’s never liked me!’
‘He liked you well enough to save your life!’ I snapped back. ‘Or have you forgotten that?’
Potter flushed, ‘I haven’t forgotten. But Hermione... she’s like this because of him.’
‘You hate the Professor because of a choice Miss Granger made?’ My voice was incredulous. ‘He didn’t ask for any of this you know. None of it. Yet it seems to me, for a man who doesn’t like anyone, he’s pulled the wool over a lot of people’s eyes. Professor Dumbledore seems to like him, and he strikes me as an intelligent man. Minerva likes him; I like him. I’m betting that your Hermione here loves him.’
‘Don’t say that!’ he shouted suddenly. ‘She doesn’t love him.’
‘She does, Potter.’ I had stopped brushing Miss Granger’s hair as we spoke, and found myself now looking intently at the boy. ‘Look at her - she looks like a woman in love.’
‘She looks like a woman in a coma,’ Harry retorted bitterly.
‘That too,’ I agreed. ‘
17. Everyone stared at the smouldering boots in the front courtyard of the school, as Harry Potter--all seven surviving Harry Potters--lowered their wands. It was over. All around them, the Death Eaters had fallen to a wave of Potters, and Grangers…and an army of Severus Snapes. From the sheer number of them, Hermione suspected he’d used up the other jar, focusing firmly on the existential need to protect the students, the staff…and herself especially. Tag-team partners of duplicate Grangers and Snapes fighting back-to-back had proved to be a particularly dangerous combination. Now it was all over.
Both of them were safe; she could tell just by looking at him which of the identical, dark-clad figures was her long-denied lover. The right side of the war had finally won, thanks in part to their own duplicated efforts, and thanks in the larger part to the efforts of all the others. As the Aurors finished disarming the last of the Death Eaters, the air of the school, redolent with the smells of scorched stone, spilled blood, and hints of carob, started filling with odd banff-noises. In ones and twos, the duplicates winked out of existence. Including the line of Potters that had confronted the confounded Dark Lord at the bitter end.
18. Hermione set the check on the desk and peered down on Eddie’s spiked blond head bent over the first of five crates off to the side of the desk.
“Anything interesting?” she asked.
“You never know with Griffin,” he said and set a group of leather covered books on his desk. “Griffin always has some surprises in his runs.” He reached back into the crate. “Hullo, what’s this then?” He pulled out and almost dropped a smallish battered brown book. “What do you make of this, love?”
Hermione took the book and also almost dropped it. “There’s quite a series of wards and charms on this one.” She shook her right hand like it had been burned and carefully flipped through the pages. “Does the name, at least I think its a name, mean anything? Maharal...” She showed him the printed word on the inside front cover.
“Not a thing, Ducks.” Eddie shook his head. “Thought you were the expert on wizards weird, wise and wonderful.”
“Yes,” acknowledged Hermione with a smile. “But you’re the expert on books battered, borrowed and bizarre.”
“Too true,” Eddie returned the smile. He was warming to their traditional game. “Though this tome is too terribly tranced for my talents”
“Urrrgh,” Hermione groaned. She held up her hand to shield herself from further alliteration. “Please not before coffee.”
19. It was Dumbledore who inadvertently gave him the idea to start writing down his adventures for publication. He'd just returned from a trip to India where he'd done some reconnaissance for Dumbledore and freed Siripadma the Siren from an arranged marriage to an elderly traditionalist by selflessly taking her virginity on the eve of her wedding. Fortunately, Severus had the foresight to introduce her to a dashing young mediwizard with a much more worldly philosophy before extricating himself from the situation. However, he still unwittingly sported a prominent love bite on the underside of his chin when he next visited Albus. Dumbledore twinkled at him suggestively and referred to an author with whom Severus was unfamiliar before healing the bruise and shooing him back to Hogwarts. But if the name Felicity Underalls was the name her parents had given her, he'd eat a flobberworm.
He was surprised to discover several of Felicity Underalls' books in his drawer of items confiscated from potions students over the years; usually items that the students were too embarrassed to request returned. Absently, he read a few pages of La Belle Dame of the Golden West. Utter tripe, naturally- full of the reinforcing stereotypes typical of the genre that led to expectations of handsome princes on white chargers.
It was then that he had the Idea. He dismissed it immediately, but it refused to stay dismissed. The next day he began writing.
20. She shrugged. “Harry or Ron might begin to wonder where I am.”
Snape cocked an eyebrow mockingly at her statement. “I believe that the last time I saw them, their attentions were captivated by the wiles and charms of others of your fairer sex.”
She tried not to take offense at his tone for, once again, he was correct. Harry was still a newlywed, having been married for less than a year; he and Luna were so kissy-kissy in love that it was sometimes bordering on revolting. Ron was home for the Quidditch off-season, and he had his own little harem of diehard groupies. Last she’d seen, he’d left his date, a tall brunette by the name of Inga, talking to Neville Longbottom, and had been surrounded by not one, not two, but three blondes, all draping their various body parts over his and hanging on his every word.
“Yeah… we’re definitely stuck in here.”