Prolific Author Series: ladyinthecloak
You may know her as ladyinthecloak, lady_karelia, or simply Karelia. As a writer, reviewer, accredited beta reader, and one of the current administrators of The Petulant Poetess, she pours a whole lot of time and love into the Potter fandom. As fellow lovers of SS/HG and SS/HG/LM, we here at the SSHG Quiz feel it's time to return some of that love. Let's hear it for the latest in our Prolific Author Series - ladyinthecloak!
This is a Special Edition Quiz so the first fangirl who posts a perfect score wins a special prize! Who's the fastest ladyinthecloak fangirl?
Match the quote to the story title:
And Then Rose the Phoenix
Play, Outcast, Play
Deliverance the Malfoy Way
Travel, Conspiracy, and Men (SS/HG/LM)
A Potion With An Unintended Notion
Etude de Magie
Reacquainting With Beethoven
Damage Control WIP
No Music More Enchanting
Zu Hilfe, Zu Hilfe!
An Inconceivable Weekend
Phoenix Meddling
Without Magic WIP
Skinful Sensations and Luscious Ministrations (SS/HG/LM)
1. Her next encounter with a rattler, right beside her front door, had her Apparate to the top of a hill in the Superstition Mountains in panic. Mountains my arse. The air is no thinner here than in Hellhole Central. It took a while to calm down and seven Apparations from there, via various hilltops, stops at Apache Junction, Mesa, and Tempe to get to her office in Scottsdale from the hilltop, and when she finally reached her destination, what little spirit she’d started the day with had entirely disappeared.
“Good morning, Mrs Weasley! There is a Mr-”
“How often have I told you to NOT call me that? Call me Granger, call me Hermione, hell, call me bitch. Do. Not. Call. Me. Mrs. Weasley!” Hermione had no wish to commit murder, but right now, casting Avada Kedavra on the receptionist sounded like the best idea she’d had in ages, consequences be damned.
Abigail blushed. “Umh, I’m sorry, Miss Hermione.” Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn’t interrupt the younger witch. “I’ve been worried about you. You’re always here early, and today you weren’t.” Her voice turned to a whisper. “And then comes this gorgeous blond-”
“What?”
Abigail looked uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, see, I got here at 8.45 as usual, to open up, and a minute later, this... hunk of a guy walks in, a Brit, obviously. Oh, Merlin, you should hear his accent! It’s gorgeous! Much more elegant than yours, no disrespect! Anyways, he’s waiting in your front room. If you don’t want him, would you mind sending him my way?” She looked embarrassed.
Hermione laughed. “Since when do you like blonds, Abigail?” Not waiting for an answer, she walked into her office.
“Lucius Malfoy. Colour me surprised. What do you want?”
Malfoy laughed. “Always the Gryffindor, I see. How are you these days, Miss Granger?”
2. The unicorn eventually reminded her it was time to return to the castle. “She-Human, ‘tis time to get back. Your work for tonight is not over yet. I will carry you to the edge and see that you return safely.”
“I guess you’re right, it’s nearly dark.” Hermione sighed. “What do you mean, my work is not over yet for tonight?”
“Another is in need,” the unicorn replied and took off with speed the moment Hermione settled on her back. She did not speak again until they reached the clearing where Hermione climbed down to walk the short way to the castle. “Be well, my friend. And thank you.” The unicorn nuzzled her gently. Hermione hugged her briefly and left hurriedly to make it inside before curfew.
She stayed in her dormitory only long enough to pick up pyjamas and a book, and left to enjoy a relaxing bath. The book, ’Vibrational Medicine for the Gifted Healer’, let Hermione forget about her surroundings, delving into the fascinating world of healing, and she did not notice how much the water had cooled down until she heard the call again. Only it was not the unicorn this time. She could not make out what or who it was that called her, but she recognized the cry for help and quickly got out of the bath and into her night clothes. On her way out, she threw the book on her bed and grabbed her cloak to throw over her pyjamas and exited the common room shortly after. Suddenly, a feeling of foreboding overcame her, but she shrugged it off impatiently.
The moment she approached the first set of stairs to climb down she knew with complete certainty that the call would lead her to the Dungeons. Please let the stairs not move now. The stairs obliged and she reached her destination quickly. Just in front of the classroom door, in a heap on the floor, lay Draco Malfoy.
3. Harry found himself unable to resist the urge to put Snape into a full body bind.
“Harry! You can’t do that! At least give him a chance to explain himself,” Hermione admonished her friend as she unbound her former professor.
Ron looked at her incredulously. “You... you’re siding with the traitor! How could you, Hermione?” he uttered.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Use your brain, Ron! Do you seriously think Professor Snape would turn up here at Hogwarts if he didn’t have something important up his sleeve? He’s been hunted by a whole bunch of Aurors, and none of them could find even a trace of him!”
“I bet he’s here only for his own interest! He’s a murderer, Hermione,” said Harry, his voice full of contempt.
In the heat of the argument between the three friends, nobody noticed the flames turn green again.
Hermione suddenly turned her attention to somewhere behind Harry and her eyes widened.
“P... Pro... Professor Dumbledore?” she asked, disbelief evident in her voice.
Harry’s head flew around. It couldn’t be; the Headmaster was dead!
“If you would kindly take your wands off Severus. He can’t feel comfortable in such a vulnerable position.”
4. “It’s such a beautiful day. Why don’t we enjoy the warm weather?”
When the two young women had found a comfortable spot on the lawn near the shore of the lake, Hermione looked curiously at Luna. “So, Kingsley has offered you a job with the Department of Mysteries. What are you going to do?”
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it...” Luna’s eyes took on an air of far-away dreaminess. “What I would love to do is go to Germany. It has so much history that parallels ours, and besides, almost any town offers plenty of culture. And so many beautiful castles! A year or two there would be just perfect. I could maybe go to a university. It would be easy enough because most people speak English. And for everything else, there are translation charms. Also, my dad told me he’s been hearing rumors that the Nazis hid the Ark of the Covenant somewhere in Germany before their downfall.” She turned to Hermione, her eyes wide. “What are you planning to do?”
Hermione sighed. “I have no idea. A Muggle university sounds interesting. And going abroad for a couple of years would be nice, too. I’ve only been to a few European countries, and if, as Kingsley said, the work is very hard at the Department of Mysteries, I’m more likely to spend my holidays just recuperating, so I guess this is our only chance to see some parts of the world...”
5. Hermione walked up and down the floor along the wall, wholly focusing on the need for the room. She had almost lost heart when, finally, the door appeared in the wall. The three let out a sigh of relief and entered. The mediwitch ignored the surroundings and dug the vial out of her pocket. While Hermione carefully held Pansy's head up, Madame Pomfrey administered the potion to the unconscious witch and gently massaged her throat to encourage swallowing.
“I just hope there is enough magic in here for it to work,” Seamus said, looking around. Then he continued, “I would have thought the Room of Requirement might resemble a hospital now, or at least something different to this... long, deserted, library kind of room.”
Hermione agreed, hoping ferociously that the look of the room was deceiving. It looked exactly as Harry had described it after he hid Snape's old Potions textbook in here. She decided to look for the old book. At least time would pass quicker that way, rather than simply sitting there waiting with bated breath for the potion to take or not take effect.
Seamus rolled his eyes, and even Madam Pomfrey grinned, when Hermione returned, happily holding the old sixth year Potions textbook in her hand.
“Only you would find an old textbook useful, Hermione,” snickered Seamus. “It won't have any value at all if the magic disappears, you know.”
The two witches looked at Seamus, shocked that he had so blatantly expressed their fears.
“What?” he asked defensively, “It's true, isn't it?” His words were met with silence.
Then Madame Pomfrey whispered, “Oh, Merlin. What are we going to do if the magic disappears entirely?”
“Then... We will have to get together with all the witches and wizards that are still around and find a way to bring the magic back,” Hermione replied slowly.
6. The Entrance Hall was deserted, and Hermione suspected it might have been a joke after all. She hesitatingly headed for the Great Hall.
“Ah. I see another unsuspecting victim has arrived,” a silky voice startled her as she entered. A voice she’d never forget, for it had delivered hurtful, biting insults throughout her school years and never offered the slightest appreciation.
A different voice snickered but was quickly forgotten, as suddenly, she found her mind facing an intruder. Hermione saw herself reading the letter, her reaction from incredulous to annoyed over having to cancel a date to the suspicion that the letter was someone’s idea of a joke. More scenes, each one a situation in which she was thinking of the letter or its contents, flashed past her until, finally, Snape ended the spell.
With an air of boredom, he turned to his collaborator. “Finally someone kosher. No Obliviating this one, partner.”
Hermione stared at the two men with wide eyes.
“Lost your voice, Miss Granger?”
If Hermione hadn’t known better, she would have thought Lucius Malfoy’s voice filled with concern. “What is going on here?” Hermione demanded. “Do you greet everyone this way?”
“Naturally,” Snape said with a hint of a sneer. “Most fail to keep silent about the invitation, which makes for instant disqualification.”
Malfoy sighed. “Makes you wonder about the selection process, does it not? It isn’t as if we don’t make it clear what happens if they talk.”
In the short silence that followed, the front door creaked, announcing the arrival of another candidate.
7. Shortly before the end of the summer holidays, a thought occurred to me, which would drastically change the direction of my future. The thought was logical, really, no matter how absurd it sounded.
What if Dumbledore had arranged his own death? If he had trusted Snape, and I never doubted that, and if Snape had been true about his loyalties, then Dumbledore would have left some proof, somewhere, that Snape was not a cold-blooded murderer. At first, this idea intrigued me. Then it taunted me. Then it occupied me. Eventually, it tormented me until I reached the point where I succumbed to my curiosity. I had to find out.
When Harry, Ron, and I received notification that Hogwarts was to remain open to all students who wished to continue their education, I decided to return for my final year―not so much to sit my NEWTs, but I saw my chance to find out whether or not Snape was Dumbledore's man.
Harry and Ron weren't particularly happy with me at first, but relented when I pointed out that I would be of more use to them doing what I did best: finding information in books. I trusted the boys' abilities to go out and find the remaining Horcruxes by themselves, but I'd be available to research anything they might need in their quest if I returned to Hogwarts.
Hogwarts was different, even worse than the despondent atmosphere that was prevalent after the Headmaster's death at the end of my sixth year.
Compared to the beginning of my seventh year, the end of the previous school year had been positively blithe.
8. After staring contemplatively into the fire, unwinding from the events of the day and the socialising of the evening, and finally feeling peace spreading through him in small but persistent waves, Severus took the Muggle notebook in his hands.
First he felt for wards. There were many. Some were easy to take apart, others were well beyond a seventh-year Hogwarts student. Eventually, he managed to open the book.
He stared at the blank pages incredulously. Nobody would just ward a book to that extent and not write anything in it. He pondered his possibilities for a moment before trying several revealing spells. Finally, words appeared on the page.
Tell me your name, please.
Severus snorted to himself. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought this was one of Flitwick’s Charms projects, but the Charms professor would not use anything made by or for Muggles. He grabbed a quill and wrote his name down, then watched the book’s words fade completely before right underneath his name, another sentence appeared.
You may read.
Slightly puzzled, Severus leafed through the pages. Indeed, the book was full of hand-writing now-neat, tidy writing, all in black ink. At the top of each page, there was a date, he noticed. Turning to the beginning of the book, he started to read.
9. The applause continued and continued, the audience now standing up, cheering the composer and conductor, who looked merely pleased. Pleased for having succeeded to please an entire audience. For a moment, his eyes locked with Severus. He couldn't say later whether it had been his imagination or not, but he refused to think about it.
Eventually, the applause died down, and the audience began to move towards the exits. Except Severus Snape and the late-comer. Eventually, he turned to see who sat next to him.
"Miss Granger! What on earth are you doing here?" He nearly hadn't recognised her in the long, modest, burgundy dress in the style of the era they were visiting.
"I've come to find peace, sir."
He nodded empathetically, lost for words. The former know-it-all, now his colleague, had lost much of her eagerness. The war had affected everyone, he figured, and the younger generation possibly more so.
"And, did you find it?" he asked after a silence.
"I think I have," she whispered.
His expression changed to something akin to a smile.
10. The girl looked up again. “Professor Snape is dead,” she whispered. “He didn’t deserve to die. He deserves a happy life after giving so many years away.” She looked intently at the older witch.
Narcissa drew in a sharp breath. The girl really was as clever as rumour had it. For a Gryffindor to conclude such about Severus was quite a feat. She thought fast now. An additional brain wouldn’t be amiss in the task ahead of her.
Between sobs, the girl continued. “I brought blood-replenishing potion, antivenin, and dittany. I even found a half-full vial of Felix Felicis in Slughorn’s storeroom. But none of it will help without the damn stone…”
The girl did have brains. Narcissa hesitated for a moment before carefully speaking. “Hermione, if I told you I can find the stone, would you help me revive Severus?” She let action follow her words immediately by casting a silent spell to retrieve the Resurrection Stone, on which she’d had the sense to place a tracking charm in the midst of the chaos earlier. It promptly complied and flew into her outstretched, open palm, landing with a soft thud.
The girl suddenly expressed a disbelieving hope, which Narcissa found almost contagious. Then it hit her. She’d recognise those symptoms anywhere, had diagnosed a great number of witches and wizards over the years. Nearly unable to hide a grin, she said conversationally, “Why, you like him! Who would have guessed? Of course, it makes perfect sense. I can’t imagine your brain to ever find satisfaction with a Weasley, no disrespect.”
Hermione blushed furiously and looked away.
Narcissa waited, thoughts racing through her mind and an idea forming slowly. Severus deserved happiness when he returned to the living. She knew he’d been in love with a Mud-Muggleborn-for most of his life, so her status was no obstacle to him. Her brain would stimulate him. Narcissa could just see those two sitting in front of the fireplace, having passionate debates over some potion ingredient or magical theory. She nodded imperceptibly. Yes, he could find happiness with the girl if he wasn’t too stubborn.
“I won’t tell, in case you worry. In fact…” she stopped for a moment to gauge the girl’s reaction, “I can help you."
This is a Special Edition Quiz so the first fangirl who posts a perfect score wins a special prize! Who's the fastest ladyinthecloak fangirl?
Match the quote to the story title:
And Then Rose the Phoenix
Play, Outcast, Play
Deliverance the Malfoy Way
Travel, Conspiracy, and Men (SS/HG/LM)
A Potion With An Unintended Notion
Etude de Magie
Reacquainting With Beethoven
Damage Control WIP
No Music More Enchanting
Zu Hilfe, Zu Hilfe!
An Inconceivable Weekend
Phoenix Meddling
Without Magic WIP
Skinful Sensations and Luscious Ministrations (SS/HG/LM)
1. Her next encounter with a rattler, right beside her front door, had her Apparate to the top of a hill in the Superstition Mountains in panic. Mountains my arse. The air is no thinner here than in Hellhole Central. It took a while to calm down and seven Apparations from there, via various hilltops, stops at Apache Junction, Mesa, and Tempe to get to her office in Scottsdale from the hilltop, and when she finally reached her destination, what little spirit she’d started the day with had entirely disappeared.
“Good morning, Mrs Weasley! There is a Mr-”
“How often have I told you to NOT call me that? Call me Granger, call me Hermione, hell, call me bitch. Do. Not. Call. Me. Mrs. Weasley!” Hermione had no wish to commit murder, but right now, casting Avada Kedavra on the receptionist sounded like the best idea she’d had in ages, consequences be damned.
Abigail blushed. “Umh, I’m sorry, Miss Hermione.” Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn’t interrupt the younger witch. “I’ve been worried about you. You’re always here early, and today you weren’t.” Her voice turned to a whisper. “And then comes this gorgeous blond-”
“What?”
Abigail looked uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, see, I got here at 8.45 as usual, to open up, and a minute later, this... hunk of a guy walks in, a Brit, obviously. Oh, Merlin, you should hear his accent! It’s gorgeous! Much more elegant than yours, no disrespect! Anyways, he’s waiting in your front room. If you don’t want him, would you mind sending him my way?” She looked embarrassed.
Hermione laughed. “Since when do you like blonds, Abigail?” Not waiting for an answer, she walked into her office.
“Lucius Malfoy. Colour me surprised. What do you want?”
Malfoy laughed. “Always the Gryffindor, I see. How are you these days, Miss Granger?”
2. The unicorn eventually reminded her it was time to return to the castle. “She-Human, ‘tis time to get back. Your work for tonight is not over yet. I will carry you to the edge and see that you return safely.”
“I guess you’re right, it’s nearly dark.” Hermione sighed. “What do you mean, my work is not over yet for tonight?”
“Another is in need,” the unicorn replied and took off with speed the moment Hermione settled on her back. She did not speak again until they reached the clearing where Hermione climbed down to walk the short way to the castle. “Be well, my friend. And thank you.” The unicorn nuzzled her gently. Hermione hugged her briefly and left hurriedly to make it inside before curfew.
She stayed in her dormitory only long enough to pick up pyjamas and a book, and left to enjoy a relaxing bath. The book, ’Vibrational Medicine for the Gifted Healer’, let Hermione forget about her surroundings, delving into the fascinating world of healing, and she did not notice how much the water had cooled down until she heard the call again. Only it was not the unicorn this time. She could not make out what or who it was that called her, but she recognized the cry for help and quickly got out of the bath and into her night clothes. On her way out, she threw the book on her bed and grabbed her cloak to throw over her pyjamas and exited the common room shortly after. Suddenly, a feeling of foreboding overcame her, but she shrugged it off impatiently.
The moment she approached the first set of stairs to climb down she knew with complete certainty that the call would lead her to the Dungeons. Please let the stairs not move now. The stairs obliged and she reached her destination quickly. Just in front of the classroom door, in a heap on the floor, lay Draco Malfoy.
3. Harry found himself unable to resist the urge to put Snape into a full body bind.
“Harry! You can’t do that! At least give him a chance to explain himself,” Hermione admonished her friend as she unbound her former professor.
Ron looked at her incredulously. “You... you’re siding with the traitor! How could you, Hermione?” he uttered.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Use your brain, Ron! Do you seriously think Professor Snape would turn up here at Hogwarts if he didn’t have something important up his sleeve? He’s been hunted by a whole bunch of Aurors, and none of them could find even a trace of him!”
“I bet he’s here only for his own interest! He’s a murderer, Hermione,” said Harry, his voice full of contempt.
In the heat of the argument between the three friends, nobody noticed the flames turn green again.
Hermione suddenly turned her attention to somewhere behind Harry and her eyes widened.
“P... Pro... Professor Dumbledore?” she asked, disbelief evident in her voice.
Harry’s head flew around. It couldn’t be; the Headmaster was dead!
“If you would kindly take your wands off Severus. He can’t feel comfortable in such a vulnerable position.”
4. “It’s such a beautiful day. Why don’t we enjoy the warm weather?”
When the two young women had found a comfortable spot on the lawn near the shore of the lake, Hermione looked curiously at Luna. “So, Kingsley has offered you a job with the Department of Mysteries. What are you going to do?”
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it...” Luna’s eyes took on an air of far-away dreaminess. “What I would love to do is go to Germany. It has so much history that parallels ours, and besides, almost any town offers plenty of culture. And so many beautiful castles! A year or two there would be just perfect. I could maybe go to a university. It would be easy enough because most people speak English. And for everything else, there are translation charms. Also, my dad told me he’s been hearing rumors that the Nazis hid the Ark of the Covenant somewhere in Germany before their downfall.” She turned to Hermione, her eyes wide. “What are you planning to do?”
Hermione sighed. “I have no idea. A Muggle university sounds interesting. And going abroad for a couple of years would be nice, too. I’ve only been to a few European countries, and if, as Kingsley said, the work is very hard at the Department of Mysteries, I’m more likely to spend my holidays just recuperating, so I guess this is our only chance to see some parts of the world...”
5. Hermione walked up and down the floor along the wall, wholly focusing on the need for the room. She had almost lost heart when, finally, the door appeared in the wall. The three let out a sigh of relief and entered. The mediwitch ignored the surroundings and dug the vial out of her pocket. While Hermione carefully held Pansy's head up, Madame Pomfrey administered the potion to the unconscious witch and gently massaged her throat to encourage swallowing.
“I just hope there is enough magic in here for it to work,” Seamus said, looking around. Then he continued, “I would have thought the Room of Requirement might resemble a hospital now, or at least something different to this... long, deserted, library kind of room.”
Hermione agreed, hoping ferociously that the look of the room was deceiving. It looked exactly as Harry had described it after he hid Snape's old Potions textbook in here. She decided to look for the old book. At least time would pass quicker that way, rather than simply sitting there waiting with bated breath for the potion to take or not take effect.
Seamus rolled his eyes, and even Madam Pomfrey grinned, when Hermione returned, happily holding the old sixth year Potions textbook in her hand.
“Only you would find an old textbook useful, Hermione,” snickered Seamus. “It won't have any value at all if the magic disappears, you know.”
The two witches looked at Seamus, shocked that he had so blatantly expressed their fears.
“What?” he asked defensively, “It's true, isn't it?” His words were met with silence.
Then Madame Pomfrey whispered, “Oh, Merlin. What are we going to do if the magic disappears entirely?”
“Then... We will have to get together with all the witches and wizards that are still around and find a way to bring the magic back,” Hermione replied slowly.
6. The Entrance Hall was deserted, and Hermione suspected it might have been a joke after all. She hesitatingly headed for the Great Hall.
“Ah. I see another unsuspecting victim has arrived,” a silky voice startled her as she entered. A voice she’d never forget, for it had delivered hurtful, biting insults throughout her school years and never offered the slightest appreciation.
A different voice snickered but was quickly forgotten, as suddenly, she found her mind facing an intruder. Hermione saw herself reading the letter, her reaction from incredulous to annoyed over having to cancel a date to the suspicion that the letter was someone’s idea of a joke. More scenes, each one a situation in which she was thinking of the letter or its contents, flashed past her until, finally, Snape ended the spell.
With an air of boredom, he turned to his collaborator. “Finally someone kosher. No Obliviating this one, partner.”
Hermione stared at the two men with wide eyes.
“Lost your voice, Miss Granger?”
If Hermione hadn’t known better, she would have thought Lucius Malfoy’s voice filled with concern. “What is going on here?” Hermione demanded. “Do you greet everyone this way?”
“Naturally,” Snape said with a hint of a sneer. “Most fail to keep silent about the invitation, which makes for instant disqualification.”
Malfoy sighed. “Makes you wonder about the selection process, does it not? It isn’t as if we don’t make it clear what happens if they talk.”
In the short silence that followed, the front door creaked, announcing the arrival of another candidate.
7. Shortly before the end of the summer holidays, a thought occurred to me, which would drastically change the direction of my future. The thought was logical, really, no matter how absurd it sounded.
What if Dumbledore had arranged his own death? If he had trusted Snape, and I never doubted that, and if Snape had been true about his loyalties, then Dumbledore would have left some proof, somewhere, that Snape was not a cold-blooded murderer. At first, this idea intrigued me. Then it taunted me. Then it occupied me. Eventually, it tormented me until I reached the point where I succumbed to my curiosity. I had to find out.
When Harry, Ron, and I received notification that Hogwarts was to remain open to all students who wished to continue their education, I decided to return for my final year―not so much to sit my NEWTs, but I saw my chance to find out whether or not Snape was Dumbledore's man.
Harry and Ron weren't particularly happy with me at first, but relented when I pointed out that I would be of more use to them doing what I did best: finding information in books. I trusted the boys' abilities to go out and find the remaining Horcruxes by themselves, but I'd be available to research anything they might need in their quest if I returned to Hogwarts.
Hogwarts was different, even worse than the despondent atmosphere that was prevalent after the Headmaster's death at the end of my sixth year.
Compared to the beginning of my seventh year, the end of the previous school year had been positively blithe.
8. After staring contemplatively into the fire, unwinding from the events of the day and the socialising of the evening, and finally feeling peace spreading through him in small but persistent waves, Severus took the Muggle notebook in his hands.
First he felt for wards. There were many. Some were easy to take apart, others were well beyond a seventh-year Hogwarts student. Eventually, he managed to open the book.
He stared at the blank pages incredulously. Nobody would just ward a book to that extent and not write anything in it. He pondered his possibilities for a moment before trying several revealing spells. Finally, words appeared on the page.
Tell me your name, please.
Severus snorted to himself. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought this was one of Flitwick’s Charms projects, but the Charms professor would not use anything made by or for Muggles. He grabbed a quill and wrote his name down, then watched the book’s words fade completely before right underneath his name, another sentence appeared.
You may read.
Slightly puzzled, Severus leafed through the pages. Indeed, the book was full of hand-writing now-neat, tidy writing, all in black ink. At the top of each page, there was a date, he noticed. Turning to the beginning of the book, he started to read.
9. The applause continued and continued, the audience now standing up, cheering the composer and conductor, who looked merely pleased. Pleased for having succeeded to please an entire audience. For a moment, his eyes locked with Severus. He couldn't say later whether it had been his imagination or not, but he refused to think about it.
Eventually, the applause died down, and the audience began to move towards the exits. Except Severus Snape and the late-comer. Eventually, he turned to see who sat next to him.
"Miss Granger! What on earth are you doing here?" He nearly hadn't recognised her in the long, modest, burgundy dress in the style of the era they were visiting.
"I've come to find peace, sir."
He nodded empathetically, lost for words. The former know-it-all, now his colleague, had lost much of her eagerness. The war had affected everyone, he figured, and the younger generation possibly more so.
"And, did you find it?" he asked after a silence.
"I think I have," she whispered.
His expression changed to something akin to a smile.
10. The girl looked up again. “Professor Snape is dead,” she whispered. “He didn’t deserve to die. He deserves a happy life after giving so many years away.” She looked intently at the older witch.
Narcissa drew in a sharp breath. The girl really was as clever as rumour had it. For a Gryffindor to conclude such about Severus was quite a feat. She thought fast now. An additional brain wouldn’t be amiss in the task ahead of her.
Between sobs, the girl continued. “I brought blood-replenishing potion, antivenin, and dittany. I even found a half-full vial of Felix Felicis in Slughorn’s storeroom. But none of it will help without the damn stone…”
The girl did have brains. Narcissa hesitated for a moment before carefully speaking. “Hermione, if I told you I can find the stone, would you help me revive Severus?” She let action follow her words immediately by casting a silent spell to retrieve the Resurrection Stone, on which she’d had the sense to place a tracking charm in the midst of the chaos earlier. It promptly complied and flew into her outstretched, open palm, landing with a soft thud.
The girl suddenly expressed a disbelieving hope, which Narcissa found almost contagious. Then it hit her. She’d recognise those symptoms anywhere, had diagnosed a great number of witches and wizards over the years. Nearly unable to hide a grin, she said conversationally, “Why, you like him! Who would have guessed? Of course, it makes perfect sense. I can’t imagine your brain to ever find satisfaction with a Weasley, no disrespect.”
Hermione blushed furiously and looked away.
Narcissa waited, thoughts racing through her mind and an idea forming slowly. Severus deserved happiness when he returned to the living. She knew he’d been in love with a Mud-Muggleborn-for most of his life, so her status was no obstacle to him. Her brain would stimulate him. Narcissa could just see those two sitting in front of the fireplace, having passionate debates over some potion ingredient or magical theory. She nodded imperceptibly. Yes, he could find happiness with the girl if he wasn’t too stubborn.
“I won’t tell, in case you worry. In fact…” she stopped for a moment to gauge the girl’s reaction, “I can help you."