Proffessor Granger?
What happens when the prodigal child returns to her magical home? Do her former professors--now colleagues--treat her with respect and kindness? Yup. Well, except for a certain someone who has issues with people skills. This week's quiz focuses on stories where both Hermione and Severus are professors at Hogwarts. Thank goodness for faculty fraternization ... hopefully naked.
This week's quiz was chosen by keladry_lupin after proving herself to be a devoted (and speedy)mundungus42 fangirl.
The first fangirl to post the highest score will get to choose the next quiz. Quick student!
Match the quote to the story title:
Pain and Passion by Snarkywench_64
It Started With A Book by Shiv5468
No Loyalty in the Moonlight by ariadne1 (WIP)
A Sneaking Suspicion by VanityFair00
Orpheus by Pigwidgeon37
Ladder by Ubiquirk
Lost and Found by Ehann (abrupt ending or Eternal WIP whichever you prefer)
Epiphany by Melusin_79 (WIP)
Better Living Through Potions by Mollilicious
No Harm Ever Came From Reading A Book by Ja1young or a_smeee_heee
Forgive Us Our Debts by DrMM
Qudditch Appreciation by Verse
Give It Back to the Birds and the Bees by Zambonigirl
1. Severus Snape stood in the doorway of the Potions classroom, sipping a cup of tea. He had some time before addressing the first years in the common room. They had all trooped past his office a few moments ago, lead by George Fowler, the Prefect. The sixth year student had taken it upon himself to give the new children a tour of the dungeons, and indeed, the entire castle. George’s youngest sister Edith was now one of the first years. She and Samantha Granger had been only two girls sorted into Slytherin from the arriving class.
Samantha Granger. The first time Snape had laid eyes on the girl, he’d immediately noticed that she seemed familiar
2. Just as Hermione had hoped and expected, her students were gradually losing their interest in the more glamorous-that was, at least, the way they perceived it-aspects of her life. She was now a teacher like all the others, well-liked and respected. The nickname ‘Professor PGS’ (for Potter-Granger-Snape) didn't overly bother her, as they never used it to her face. Sirius had told her about it; he had, of course, heard it from Agrippina Wilcox, Head Girl and his current paramour, and found it quite funny. So did Hermione, although she knew better than to share it with Severus, who wouldn't have reacted very well.
By the end of November, she had settled into a comfortable teaching routine, and her relationship with Severus was progressing in a very satisfactory manner. It was an open secret that the Headmaster and the Muggle Studies teacher were romantically involved, and thus neither of them saw any need for secrecy
3. Right as I was working an equation out on the board, a group in the back corner started whispering about 'Dopplebeater Defense.' Then I wrote the wrong symbol for 'years' on the board and another group started snickering at me. My chalk broke...and I'm not entirely certain of what I did next, but a moment later half the class had squirrels coming out of their noses.”
Snape blinked in surprise.
“Purple flying squirrels.”
“Ah. Hence the acorns.”
She shrugged. “I think I mixed up a couple of hexes. Whatever it was, it was something new, so it took a good three quarters of an hour to figure out how to make it stop. Several of those students ended up late for the game, and McGonagall says that's why we-Gryffindor-lost the match. Needless to say she wasn't very happy with me.
4. “Read it? I don’t even want to touch it!” Noticing McGonagall’s look of surprise, she added, “It’s a Christmas present from him.” There was no need to explain who. Nine years after the fall of Voldemort, Severus Snape was usually referred to as him, in tones of disgust and anger. A six month sentence in Azkaban had not satisfied the wizarding community’s desire for vengeance, despite Harry Potter’s grudging admission that he would never have defeated Voldemort without Snape’s help.
“Ah,” said McGonagall with a sigh. She paused for a moment. “Hermione, you’re now head of Gryffindor house, deputy headmistress and his supervisor. He obviously felt obligated to give you a gift.”
“Well, I’m not giving him anything in return,” said Hermione firmly.
“I doubt he expects it,” said McGonagall quietly, looking at the empty portrait-frame of Albus Dumbledore.
Severus Snape was a murderer, Hermione reminded herself, ignoring a faint twinge of guilt. He had killed Albus Dumbledore, tortured Neville Longbottom and done nothing as Bellatrix Lestrange had killed Ron Weasley. She hated Severus Snape more than any person alive. She had no reason to feel guilty. None.
5. An hour later, she was still wide awake. Hermione always seemed to be tired lately and yet sleep eluded her. Consequently, she was taking far too many Dreamless Sleep potions than were good for her. It was as if something were tugging at the corners of her mind, but she couldn’t quite pin it down. The more she tried to focus on the problem, the more it seemed to slip away from her. Severus had suggested an early night. Knowing that sleep was the last thing on his mind, she had nevertheless complied as usual.
She sighed. It had been a long week. What with teaching, looking after the children and seeing to Severus’ needs, there never seemed to be any time left for herself. She had wanted a quiet night by the fire and a long, relaxing bath followed by a good night’s sleep. Instead, as she was clearing up after the children’s supper, he had put his arms around her waist from behind and whispered in her ear that he wanted her in her leather corset that night for ‘something special’.
Well, she had been married long enough to him to know what that meant - the three B’s, as she privately referred to it - Bondage, Beatings and Buggery, and sure enough, she hadn’t been disappointed.
6. “I was just saying, Minerva, that Professor Snape is the only one left on my Christmas list that I have no idea what to get. Have you any suggestions?”
“You don’t know something, Miss Granger? - sorry, Professor Granger - after all these years old habits still die hard.”
“That’s quite alright, professor, but please just call me Hermione. I’ve always thought of us as more than just colleagues.”
“Of course…Hermione. For a long time I’ve come to regard you as almost a daughter…I’m just set in my ways. Even after so long. You’ve been the part-time Divination teacher with Firenze now for what, five years? And Arithmancy teacher since three years before that. But to me, you will always be my brightest student, Miss Granger….Now, what were you saying before? Oh yes, Severus, hmmm… I really don’t know what to suggest. Your premonitions, or instincts, or whatever, are they letting you down?”
7. I set my drink aside and turn just enough to observe her with my peripheral vision. “Tonks, term at Hogwarts begins in two days, and my time will thus be even more limited than it is now. In fact, it will indubitably be quite a while before I have the ability to pursue recreational activities.”
I pause; she looks away.
Is there ever a benefit to dawdling? Do it.
“I feel unable to continue a relationship.”
Staring at the floor, she remains silent. Time slows to a hideous crawl.
Well, at least she has foregone crying.
Yet more silence. I shift position in order to face her more fully.
“Tonks?”
A twitch - her head rises abruptly, and the large smile is completely unexpected, as is her reply: “So, how about one more go for old-time’s sake?”
8. But rather than Sprout, Hermione found, or stumbled onto rather, the Potions master. Dressed in his habitual black with his lanky hair hanging down like a curtain in his face, he stood with his sleeves pushed back and his hands buried in dirt.
Hermione nearly asked him if he had seen Pomona, but stopped herself when she heard him muttering. It had never occurred to her that Severus Snape, one-time spy, feared teacher, and prickly colleague actually talked to himself. Ducking behind a rather large potted plant, she watched him unobserved.
He was repotting a lovely specimen of flower, its golden orange streaked with red reminding her of a summer sunset.
“Now I expect you to take to this new arrangement without any fuss, certainly not like last time. I need you looking your best by the end of the week, do you hear?” he said, addressing the plants.
Hermione stifled a giggle at his stern seriousness. She had been wrong. Severus Snape did not talk to himself, but he did talk to his plants.
9. She hadn’t anticipated him reaching out for her… clinging to her.
Since the beginning of her tenure as a teacher, he’d remained as he’d always been for as long as she’d known him: aloof, severe, withdrawn. His remarks, when he’d bestowed them, had been no less scathing than when she’d been a child. He’d not sought her out for friendly discourse, nor had he acknowledged her new position as his colleague on more than a rudimentary level. She’d believed, as always, that he’d barely tolerated her existence, accepting her appointment as inevitable due to the favor she curried as a prized student in the headmistress’ House.
Apparently, she’d been wrong, and he’d been even more skilled in the art of deception than she’d ever believed.
They’d remained locked in that almost painfully crushing embrace for so long that she lost track of time.
10. But he held up a hand. “Minerva, I must ask you. Of the children of her classmates and friends - of those who were connected with the Order - have any of them undertaken N.E.W.T.-level study in Arithmancy?”
“Potter’s eldest did receive an Outstanding O.W.L. in the subject, but elected not to continue,” she began, her voice dropping as she ran through her memories.
Severus watched her face carefully, waiting.
Slowly, first the suspicion and then the realization appeared on her face. Then she nodded, eyes piercing, trying to read his face, to guess his line of reasoning.
“Perhaps,” he began, “having their godmother as a teacher would have proved too awkward...” He let the sentence hang.
“She is not godmother to any of them. She and Harry do not speak.”
Something in his gaze flashed before he dropped it to his hands and examined the edge of his fingernail very intently.
Minerva did not need to see his eyes to know they were moving rapidly as he calculated… “Severus, will you tell me what’s going on?”
His fingers stopped moving, and he turned his head very slowly to look at her, a fall of hair obscuring half of his face, reflecting the dying flames. “Why?”
This week's quiz was chosen by keladry_lupin after proving herself to be a devoted (and speedy)mundungus42 fangirl.
The first fangirl to post the highest score will get to choose the next quiz. Quick student!
Match the quote to the story title:
Pain and Passion by Snarkywench_64
It Started With A Book by Shiv5468
No Loyalty in the Moonlight by ariadne1 (WIP)
A Sneaking Suspicion by VanityFair00
Orpheus by Pigwidgeon37
Ladder by Ubiquirk
Lost and Found by Ehann (abrupt ending or Eternal WIP whichever you prefer)
Epiphany by Melusin_79 (WIP)
Better Living Through Potions by Mollilicious
No Harm Ever Came From Reading A Book by Ja1young or a_smeee_heee
Forgive Us Our Debts by DrMM
Qudditch Appreciation by Verse
Give It Back to the Birds and the Bees by Zambonigirl
1. Severus Snape stood in the doorway of the Potions classroom, sipping a cup of tea. He had some time before addressing the first years in the common room. They had all trooped past his office a few moments ago, lead by George Fowler, the Prefect. The sixth year student had taken it upon himself to give the new children a tour of the dungeons, and indeed, the entire castle. George’s youngest sister Edith was now one of the first years. She and Samantha Granger had been only two girls sorted into Slytherin from the arriving class.
Samantha Granger. The first time Snape had laid eyes on the girl, he’d immediately noticed that she seemed familiar
2. Just as Hermione had hoped and expected, her students were gradually losing their interest in the more glamorous-that was, at least, the way they perceived it-aspects of her life. She was now a teacher like all the others, well-liked and respected. The nickname ‘Professor PGS’ (for Potter-Granger-Snape) didn't overly bother her, as they never used it to her face. Sirius had told her about it; he had, of course, heard it from Agrippina Wilcox, Head Girl and his current paramour, and found it quite funny. So did Hermione, although she knew better than to share it with Severus, who wouldn't have reacted very well.
By the end of November, she had settled into a comfortable teaching routine, and her relationship with Severus was progressing in a very satisfactory manner. It was an open secret that the Headmaster and the Muggle Studies teacher were romantically involved, and thus neither of them saw any need for secrecy
3. Right as I was working an equation out on the board, a group in the back corner started whispering about 'Dopplebeater Defense.' Then I wrote the wrong symbol for 'years' on the board and another group started snickering at me. My chalk broke...and I'm not entirely certain of what I did next, but a moment later half the class had squirrels coming out of their noses.”
Snape blinked in surprise.
“Purple flying squirrels.”
“Ah. Hence the acorns.”
She shrugged. “I think I mixed up a couple of hexes. Whatever it was, it was something new, so it took a good three quarters of an hour to figure out how to make it stop. Several of those students ended up late for the game, and McGonagall says that's why we-Gryffindor-lost the match. Needless to say she wasn't very happy with me.
4. “Read it? I don’t even want to touch it!” Noticing McGonagall’s look of surprise, she added, “It’s a Christmas present from him.” There was no need to explain who. Nine years after the fall of Voldemort, Severus Snape was usually referred to as him, in tones of disgust and anger. A six month sentence in Azkaban had not satisfied the wizarding community’s desire for vengeance, despite Harry Potter’s grudging admission that he would never have defeated Voldemort without Snape’s help.
“Ah,” said McGonagall with a sigh. She paused for a moment. “Hermione, you’re now head of Gryffindor house, deputy headmistress and his supervisor. He obviously felt obligated to give you a gift.”
“Well, I’m not giving him anything in return,” said Hermione firmly.
“I doubt he expects it,” said McGonagall quietly, looking at the empty portrait-frame of Albus Dumbledore.
Severus Snape was a murderer, Hermione reminded herself, ignoring a faint twinge of guilt. He had killed Albus Dumbledore, tortured Neville Longbottom and done nothing as Bellatrix Lestrange had killed Ron Weasley. She hated Severus Snape more than any person alive. She had no reason to feel guilty. None.
5. An hour later, she was still wide awake. Hermione always seemed to be tired lately and yet sleep eluded her. Consequently, she was taking far too many Dreamless Sleep potions than were good for her. It was as if something were tugging at the corners of her mind, but she couldn’t quite pin it down. The more she tried to focus on the problem, the more it seemed to slip away from her. Severus had suggested an early night. Knowing that sleep was the last thing on his mind, she had nevertheless complied as usual.
She sighed. It had been a long week. What with teaching, looking after the children and seeing to Severus’ needs, there never seemed to be any time left for herself. She had wanted a quiet night by the fire and a long, relaxing bath followed by a good night’s sleep. Instead, as she was clearing up after the children’s supper, he had put his arms around her waist from behind and whispered in her ear that he wanted her in her leather corset that night for ‘something special’.
Well, she had been married long enough to him to know what that meant - the three B’s, as she privately referred to it - Bondage, Beatings and Buggery, and sure enough, she hadn’t been disappointed.
6. “I was just saying, Minerva, that Professor Snape is the only one left on my Christmas list that I have no idea what to get. Have you any suggestions?”
“You don’t know something, Miss Granger? - sorry, Professor Granger - after all these years old habits still die hard.”
“That’s quite alright, professor, but please just call me Hermione. I’ve always thought of us as more than just colleagues.”
“Of course…Hermione. For a long time I’ve come to regard you as almost a daughter…I’m just set in my ways. Even after so long. You’ve been the part-time Divination teacher with Firenze now for what, five years? And Arithmancy teacher since three years before that. But to me, you will always be my brightest student, Miss Granger….Now, what were you saying before? Oh yes, Severus, hmmm… I really don’t know what to suggest. Your premonitions, or instincts, or whatever, are they letting you down?”
7. I set my drink aside and turn just enough to observe her with my peripheral vision. “Tonks, term at Hogwarts begins in two days, and my time will thus be even more limited than it is now. In fact, it will indubitably be quite a while before I have the ability to pursue recreational activities.”
I pause; she looks away.
Is there ever a benefit to dawdling? Do it.
“I feel unable to continue a relationship.”
Staring at the floor, she remains silent. Time slows to a hideous crawl.
Well, at least she has foregone crying.
Yet more silence. I shift position in order to face her more fully.
“Tonks?”
A twitch - her head rises abruptly, and the large smile is completely unexpected, as is her reply: “So, how about one more go for old-time’s sake?”
8. But rather than Sprout, Hermione found, or stumbled onto rather, the Potions master. Dressed in his habitual black with his lanky hair hanging down like a curtain in his face, he stood with his sleeves pushed back and his hands buried in dirt.
Hermione nearly asked him if he had seen Pomona, but stopped herself when she heard him muttering. It had never occurred to her that Severus Snape, one-time spy, feared teacher, and prickly colleague actually talked to himself. Ducking behind a rather large potted plant, she watched him unobserved.
He was repotting a lovely specimen of flower, its golden orange streaked with red reminding her of a summer sunset.
“Now I expect you to take to this new arrangement without any fuss, certainly not like last time. I need you looking your best by the end of the week, do you hear?” he said, addressing the plants.
Hermione stifled a giggle at his stern seriousness. She had been wrong. Severus Snape did not talk to himself, but he did talk to his plants.
9. She hadn’t anticipated him reaching out for her… clinging to her.
Since the beginning of her tenure as a teacher, he’d remained as he’d always been for as long as she’d known him: aloof, severe, withdrawn. His remarks, when he’d bestowed them, had been no less scathing than when she’d been a child. He’d not sought her out for friendly discourse, nor had he acknowledged her new position as his colleague on more than a rudimentary level. She’d believed, as always, that he’d barely tolerated her existence, accepting her appointment as inevitable due to the favor she curried as a prized student in the headmistress’ House.
Apparently, she’d been wrong, and he’d been even more skilled in the art of deception than she’d ever believed.
They’d remained locked in that almost painfully crushing embrace for so long that she lost track of time.
10. But he held up a hand. “Minerva, I must ask you. Of the children of her classmates and friends - of those who were connected with the Order - have any of them undertaken N.E.W.T.-level study in Arithmancy?”
“Potter’s eldest did receive an Outstanding O.W.L. in the subject, but elected not to continue,” she began, her voice dropping as she ran through her memories.
Severus watched her face carefully, waiting.
Slowly, first the suspicion and then the realization appeared on her face. Then she nodded, eyes piercing, trying to read his face, to guess his line of reasoning.
“Perhaps,” he began, “having their godmother as a teacher would have proved too awkward...” He let the sentence hang.
“She is not godmother to any of them. She and Harry do not speak.”
Something in his gaze flashed before he dropped it to his hands and examined the edge of his fingernail very intently.
Minerva did not need to see his eyes to know they were moving rapidly as he calculated… “Severus, will you tell me what’s going on?”
His fingers stopped moving, and he turned his head very slowly to look at her, a fall of hair obscuring half of his face, reflecting the dying flames. “Why?”