SSHG Exchange Summer 2007
It was the summer of 2007. Soon the final book of the Potter saga would be released. Before hopes and dreams were confirmed or dashed, a group of valiant SSHG authors and artists gathered together. The sshg_exchange of Summer 2007 offered one last glorious burst of creativity before the final horcrux was destroyed and life as Voldemort and we knew it ended. Revisit those carefree days when all anyone had to explain away was assisted suicide, if they even bothered with that!
Match the quote to the story title:
Scarborough Arithmancy by lillithj (SS/HG/LM)
Pushing the Envelope by britt_1975
A Pinch of This, A Dash of That by iamstarmom
The Rise of Life on Earth by harrietvane
To Both Sides, Voice by regann
Healer, Healer by losille2000
Judging Books by Their Covers by melisande88
As Soon As I Belong by firefly_124
I Don't Like Tuesdays by silburygirl
Enraptured by sshg316
A Spider Book by duniazade
Fork in the Road by snarkypants (SS/HG/LM)
1. Hermione's heart beat quickly. Had she just read Severus Snape's fantasy? Was she the girl who-
A moment later she was up and across the room to her bookshelf, taking down book after book of Evangeline Spicule's and looking at the heroines on their covers. The first six were varied-black haired, blonde, red-headed, short hair, long… but the last three novels had covers with similar looking heroines on them. Long, honey-coloured hair with strong tendencies toward curl. Not quite so buxom as the previous girlies. More… intellectual, somehow, despite the arched backs that thrust their bosoms out for the Spicule heroes to admire, despite the upturned lips begging for kisses.
More like Hermione herself.
Surely… surely… not. She stumbled back to the window seat like a woman who had had the breath knocked out of her. She stared into the gloom of the street outside, and bit her lip.
Then she turned the page.
2. When at last Dumbledore left, Hermione coughed.
“That panel is ruined, isn’t it?”
“Yes. The lemon drop fixed forever what the feverish brain of Weasley had imagined.”
“So, you’ll have to do it.”
“After this, I think I might enjoy it.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say.”
“I am not a nice man.”
“That’s why I prefer you.”
“We agreed you’ll go to Krum.”
“You might need my evidence.”
“Well, at least you can’t cook and don’t like children.”
3. Granger’s flat was, well, typically Granger, Severus mused. Books were crammed into every possible space, sprawled over every surface, and arranged in piles on the floor that created pathways through which one could only move with practiced ease. He inspected it as she knelt over the fireplace, deep in conversation with someone to whom she was concocting some tale of family emergency.
“Yes, life-threatening. Positively horrid. I’m afraid that there’s no way I can possibly come in today. I should be able to be back for Monday. I’m terribly sorry about this…”
He began to grow impatient and tried to refrain from pacing. Instead, he settled onto the sofa, and leaned his head back, trying to convince himself that a concussion cure was on the way. His eyes began to drift closed, but he shook himself awake. Comatose would not be pleasant.
He heard Granger finally say her goodbyes and gave a sigh of relief. Across the room, Draco muttered, “Finally,” and shot a sulky glare at the brown-haired woman who was eying them both distrustfully.
“I’ve secured you two just under a week to get whatever mess you’re in sorted out,” she said, massaging her temples. “Don’t ask me why, because I probably won’t be honest with the answer. Now, will someone please tell me what’s going on and why I have a dead man in my sitting room?”
4. So, he and Hermione were soul mates, their hearts, minds, and souls predestined to join together. His mouth tightened; he had never thought of her in those terms before, as more than a friend. He snorted into his glass. No sense in lying to yourself now, old man. Oh, you've noticed her. How could you not? Indeed. How could he not? He noticed her hands as they chopped ingredients whilst she was brewing. They were as meticulous as his own, and he had once suffered the insane thought that she had memorised the way he worked. He noticed the slender fingers as she gripped the chopping knife or the stirring rod. She had an adorable way of wrinkling her nose whilst chopping the more malodorous ingredients … hell and damnation! Now the insufferable woman had him thinking words like adorable!
If he were to be completely honest with himself, Severus would have to admit that he noticed a lot of things about Hermione Granger. On more than one occasion, he had forced himself not to wonder what it would be like to have the dazzling smile she bestowed on the Weasley whelp focussed on him, to have those small hands held in his, her slim fingers entwined with his, to have those full lips kiss more than just his cheek, to have that petite body with its seductive curves melded to him rather than just the brushing of a friendly greeting.
Perhaps now he could …
5. There were many perks to being a War Hero and Hermione was not above playing her advantage at every opportunity, figuring that if she wanted something from a Slytherin she’d best start to think and act like one.
Hermione had a plan. It was, of course, well considered, colour-coded, and typically ambitious. But she was, as always, confident as to its successful outcome. Come September, she would be an apprentice to Severus Snape, Master Chef and, by the following year, Hogwarts would offer a new course in Magical Culinary Arts, to be taught by Professor Hermione Granger.
The Hogwarts curriculum had remained essentially unchanged for centuries. Muggle Studies was the most recent addition and that had occurred more than fifty years ago. But Hermione quickly assessed the opening for change after the war. In the aftermath of the now-legendary Victory Feast, there was a swell of interest in food in the Wizarding world. Three new restaurants had opened in Diagon Alley alone, much to the dismay of Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, who was experiencing the pinch of competition for the first time. There was a new cuisine section in the Daily Prophet and several new cookbooks were flying off the shelves at Flourish and Blotts. So, it was in this frenzied atmosphere that Hermione Granger initiated her plan.
6. “Given such proof, can you still doubt that wizards are a vastly superior race?”
“You had me up until that last sentence, Mr Malfoy,” Hermione said, frostily. She covered her head with a towel and began rubbing the water from her hair.
“Who wouldn’t choose to be a Wizard-or a Witch,” he added with a gallant wave in her direction. “Especially given the alternative. Muggle old age is dreadful. Incontinent, toothless, senile. Malodorous.”
“Why must one race be superior to another?”
He looked at her rather blankly. “Because that’s the way the world is, madam.”
“I disagree,” she said.
“Nature disagrees with you. One specimen must always be superior to another.”
“I believe five Muggles could outwit an entire room full of Wizards.”
“Perhaps, but the Wizards could kill them with two words.” He gave a negligent shrug. “We win.”
7. A soft snore escaped her, and he found himself unaccountably reluctant to leave.
Dismissing the ridiculous notion, he slipped carefully out from under the duvet and Summoned his clothes. How, exactly, had his shirt landed behind her tallboy? He slipped into the bathroom to dress, narrowly avoiding what appeared to be a large orange bottlebrush in his path, which was apparently attached to a cat that was looking at him intently. Perhaps he had taken the animal’s usual sleeping spot. He smirked.
Once dressed, he made to leave her flat, only to discover that she had an alarming number of enchantments, some of them quite Dark, protecting her doorway from exit as well as entry. Well, yes, she was an Unspeakable, but this was an absurd level of security! For that matter, if he used any of these on his own home, he would probably be out of a job and perhaps even arrested.
Irritating chit.
He drew his wand and began dismantling them. The large ginger feline came out of the bedroom to observe him, making odd, soft vocalisations from time to time.
Several minutes later, Snape felt utterly exhausted, but at least the charms were all undone, and in such a way that they would snap back into place upon his exit. He staggered through the door, waited a moment until he was certain her utterly paranoid precautions were in effect once again, and left.
8. “It appears that the job was a condition of my Monitoring, and now that it’s over, they are no longer forced to continue my employment.”
Hermione slammed her glass down on the small table next to her chair before rising to her feet to pace the length of the room. “That’s unconscionable of them!” She stopped in front of his chair and dropped into a crouch, placing her hand on his knee. “You were too good for that position anyway, Severus. Have you given any more thought to the advertisement I showed you?”
“I appreciate your faith in me, Hermione, but you know that no hope lies down that path.”
“I know nothing of the sort! You would be perfect for the position! Even if the Ministry had been willing to promote you to a position more indicative of your abilities, they’re too backward and stuffy for the kind of innovative work that you’re capable of!”
He shook his head and gave a rueful chuckle. “It’s alarming, this fervent loyalty you have to your employers.”
9. "Miss Granger, my dear girl," Ulprus purred. "How was your outing Tuesday last?"
Hermione looked up from her own stacks of parchments and glanced over at the oven before answering the wizard. She knew he'd make an appearance. He always did when she baked sweets.
"The usual, Ulprus," she said. "He tried to kiss me and I almost vomited, but …"
"But? Do tell your Uncle Ulprus all about it. Perhaps over some of those delectable chocolate nibbles I smell baking?"
"Espresso brownies. They'll be done ..." A chime sounded and the oven door opened, a square baking pan levitated itself onto a cooling rack. "Now."
"Brownies? You aren't baking fae? Are you?"
10. "Why's it so important? You've spent all your life, from what I can, being hateful to everyone. Why's it important that Hermione think better of you?"
Snape was staring at him with haunted eyes and Harry looked away, not wanting to know or understand any of the pain that Snape might've felt in his life. "The same reason it was important that Miss Weasley forgive you for your foolishness."
It didn't take but a second for Snape's pointed words to strike Harry's brain like lightning, and the implications tumbled around inside his head until he felt himself fall back to his seat in surprise. "Are you saying that...? You? Hermione? You?"
"I was going to spare you needless details but you insisted."
"Needless?" Harry scoffed. "It's bloody well important information! You just implied that you're in love with Hermione!"
“And so it is, Potter. Which is why I need your help.”
Harry was scowling fiercely. “What did you do to her, Snape? What?”
“None of your business,” Snape snapped back. “Nothing you wouldn’t have done to spare a loved one unnecessary suffering.”
Harry was torn between wanting to know more and not wanting to know anything about Snape that he didn’t have to. “Ever thought she just doesn’t share your feelings?”
“That is not the problem, I assure you.”
Harry looked a bit green. “Yeah, didn’t want to know that.”
Match the quote to the story title:
Scarborough Arithmancy by lillithj (SS/HG/LM)
Pushing the Envelope by britt_1975
A Pinch of This, A Dash of That by iamstarmom
The Rise of Life on Earth by harrietvane
To Both Sides, Voice by regann
Healer, Healer by losille2000
Judging Books by Their Covers by melisande88
As Soon As I Belong by firefly_124
I Don't Like Tuesdays by silburygirl
Enraptured by sshg316
A Spider Book by duniazade
Fork in the Road by snarkypants (SS/HG/LM)
1. Hermione's heart beat quickly. Had she just read Severus Snape's fantasy? Was she the girl who-
A moment later she was up and across the room to her bookshelf, taking down book after book of Evangeline Spicule's and looking at the heroines on their covers. The first six were varied-black haired, blonde, red-headed, short hair, long… but the last three novels had covers with similar looking heroines on them. Long, honey-coloured hair with strong tendencies toward curl. Not quite so buxom as the previous girlies. More… intellectual, somehow, despite the arched backs that thrust their bosoms out for the Spicule heroes to admire, despite the upturned lips begging for kisses.
More like Hermione herself.
Surely… surely… not. She stumbled back to the window seat like a woman who had had the breath knocked out of her. She stared into the gloom of the street outside, and bit her lip.
Then she turned the page.
2. When at last Dumbledore left, Hermione coughed.
“That panel is ruined, isn’t it?”
“Yes. The lemon drop fixed forever what the feverish brain of Weasley had imagined.”
“So, you’ll have to do it.”
“After this, I think I might enjoy it.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say.”
“I am not a nice man.”
“That’s why I prefer you.”
“We agreed you’ll go to Krum.”
“You might need my evidence.”
“Well, at least you can’t cook and don’t like children.”
3. Granger’s flat was, well, typically Granger, Severus mused. Books were crammed into every possible space, sprawled over every surface, and arranged in piles on the floor that created pathways through which one could only move with practiced ease. He inspected it as she knelt over the fireplace, deep in conversation with someone to whom she was concocting some tale of family emergency.
“Yes, life-threatening. Positively horrid. I’m afraid that there’s no way I can possibly come in today. I should be able to be back for Monday. I’m terribly sorry about this…”
He began to grow impatient and tried to refrain from pacing. Instead, he settled onto the sofa, and leaned his head back, trying to convince himself that a concussion cure was on the way. His eyes began to drift closed, but he shook himself awake. Comatose would not be pleasant.
He heard Granger finally say her goodbyes and gave a sigh of relief. Across the room, Draco muttered, “Finally,” and shot a sulky glare at the brown-haired woman who was eying them both distrustfully.
“I’ve secured you two just under a week to get whatever mess you’re in sorted out,” she said, massaging her temples. “Don’t ask me why, because I probably won’t be honest with the answer. Now, will someone please tell me what’s going on and why I have a dead man in my sitting room?”
4. So, he and Hermione were soul mates, their hearts, minds, and souls predestined to join together. His mouth tightened; he had never thought of her in those terms before, as more than a friend. He snorted into his glass. No sense in lying to yourself now, old man. Oh, you've noticed her. How could you not? Indeed. How could he not? He noticed her hands as they chopped ingredients whilst she was brewing. They were as meticulous as his own, and he had once suffered the insane thought that she had memorised the way he worked. He noticed the slender fingers as she gripped the chopping knife or the stirring rod. She had an adorable way of wrinkling her nose whilst chopping the more malodorous ingredients … hell and damnation! Now the insufferable woman had him thinking words like adorable!
If he were to be completely honest with himself, Severus would have to admit that he noticed a lot of things about Hermione Granger. On more than one occasion, he had forced himself not to wonder what it would be like to have the dazzling smile she bestowed on the Weasley whelp focussed on him, to have those small hands held in his, her slim fingers entwined with his, to have those full lips kiss more than just his cheek, to have that petite body with its seductive curves melded to him rather than just the brushing of a friendly greeting.
Perhaps now he could …
5. There were many perks to being a War Hero and Hermione was not above playing her advantage at every opportunity, figuring that if she wanted something from a Slytherin she’d best start to think and act like one.
Hermione had a plan. It was, of course, well considered, colour-coded, and typically ambitious. But she was, as always, confident as to its successful outcome. Come September, she would be an apprentice to Severus Snape, Master Chef and, by the following year, Hogwarts would offer a new course in Magical Culinary Arts, to be taught by Professor Hermione Granger.
The Hogwarts curriculum had remained essentially unchanged for centuries. Muggle Studies was the most recent addition and that had occurred more than fifty years ago. But Hermione quickly assessed the opening for change after the war. In the aftermath of the now-legendary Victory Feast, there was a swell of interest in food in the Wizarding world. Three new restaurants had opened in Diagon Alley alone, much to the dismay of Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, who was experiencing the pinch of competition for the first time. There was a new cuisine section in the Daily Prophet and several new cookbooks were flying off the shelves at Flourish and Blotts. So, it was in this frenzied atmosphere that Hermione Granger initiated her plan.
6. “Given such proof, can you still doubt that wizards are a vastly superior race?”
“You had me up until that last sentence, Mr Malfoy,” Hermione said, frostily. She covered her head with a towel and began rubbing the water from her hair.
“Who wouldn’t choose to be a Wizard-or a Witch,” he added with a gallant wave in her direction. “Especially given the alternative. Muggle old age is dreadful. Incontinent, toothless, senile. Malodorous.”
“Why must one race be superior to another?”
He looked at her rather blankly. “Because that’s the way the world is, madam.”
“I disagree,” she said.
“Nature disagrees with you. One specimen must always be superior to another.”
“I believe five Muggles could outwit an entire room full of Wizards.”
“Perhaps, but the Wizards could kill them with two words.” He gave a negligent shrug. “We win.”
7. A soft snore escaped her, and he found himself unaccountably reluctant to leave.
Dismissing the ridiculous notion, he slipped carefully out from under the duvet and Summoned his clothes. How, exactly, had his shirt landed behind her tallboy? He slipped into the bathroom to dress, narrowly avoiding what appeared to be a large orange bottlebrush in his path, which was apparently attached to a cat that was looking at him intently. Perhaps he had taken the animal’s usual sleeping spot. He smirked.
Once dressed, he made to leave her flat, only to discover that she had an alarming number of enchantments, some of them quite Dark, protecting her doorway from exit as well as entry. Well, yes, she was an Unspeakable, but this was an absurd level of security! For that matter, if he used any of these on his own home, he would probably be out of a job and perhaps even arrested.
Irritating chit.
He drew his wand and began dismantling them. The large ginger feline came out of the bedroom to observe him, making odd, soft vocalisations from time to time.
Several minutes later, Snape felt utterly exhausted, but at least the charms were all undone, and in such a way that they would snap back into place upon his exit. He staggered through the door, waited a moment until he was certain her utterly paranoid precautions were in effect once again, and left.
8. “It appears that the job was a condition of my Monitoring, and now that it’s over, they are no longer forced to continue my employment.”
Hermione slammed her glass down on the small table next to her chair before rising to her feet to pace the length of the room. “That’s unconscionable of them!” She stopped in front of his chair and dropped into a crouch, placing her hand on his knee. “You were too good for that position anyway, Severus. Have you given any more thought to the advertisement I showed you?”
“I appreciate your faith in me, Hermione, but you know that no hope lies down that path.”
“I know nothing of the sort! You would be perfect for the position! Even if the Ministry had been willing to promote you to a position more indicative of your abilities, they’re too backward and stuffy for the kind of innovative work that you’re capable of!”
He shook his head and gave a rueful chuckle. “It’s alarming, this fervent loyalty you have to your employers.”
9. "Miss Granger, my dear girl," Ulprus purred. "How was your outing Tuesday last?"
Hermione looked up from her own stacks of parchments and glanced over at the oven before answering the wizard. She knew he'd make an appearance. He always did when she baked sweets.
"The usual, Ulprus," she said. "He tried to kiss me and I almost vomited, but …"
"But? Do tell your Uncle Ulprus all about it. Perhaps over some of those delectable chocolate nibbles I smell baking?"
"Espresso brownies. They'll be done ..." A chime sounded and the oven door opened, a square baking pan levitated itself onto a cooling rack. "Now."
"Brownies? You aren't baking fae? Are you?"
10. "Why's it so important? You've spent all your life, from what I can, being hateful to everyone. Why's it important that Hermione think better of you?"
Snape was staring at him with haunted eyes and Harry looked away, not wanting to know or understand any of the pain that Snape might've felt in his life. "The same reason it was important that Miss Weasley forgive you for your foolishness."
It didn't take but a second for Snape's pointed words to strike Harry's brain like lightning, and the implications tumbled around inside his head until he felt himself fall back to his seat in surprise. "Are you saying that...? You? Hermione? You?"
"I was going to spare you needless details but you insisted."
"Needless?" Harry scoffed. "It's bloody well important information! You just implied that you're in love with Hermione!"
“And so it is, Potter. Which is why I need your help.”
Harry was scowling fiercely. “What did you do to her, Snape? What?”
“None of your business,” Snape snapped back. “Nothing you wouldn’t have done to spare a loved one unnecessary suffering.”
Harry was torn between wanting to know more and not wanting to know anything about Snape that he didn’t have to. “Ever thought she just doesn’t share your feelings?”
“That is not the problem, I assure you.”
Harry looked a bit green. “Yeah, didn’t want to know that.”