Disabled Snape Quiz
If a person, even a magical person, gets chomped in the neck by a giant venomous snake or injured in battle there are bound to be consequences. In fact sometimes the damage cannot be healed and one is left with a disability. Today the Quiz focus on stories where Mr. Severus Snape is disabled. How does he manage to live with his restricted ablitlies? If you read the stories dear fangirl you will find out!
Thanks to borg-princess for selecting this Quiz.
Match the story to the quote:
Lost Time by firefly-124
Ringworm by HulaHula (abandoned)
Being Hermione Granger by amphotera
Man of Property by josanpq
A Good Day by Dyce*
It’s Never That Simple by Missile-Envy
By Any Other Name: Variations on a Theme by death-ofme
Seven Days by septentrion
The Secret Admirer by vanityfair00
Still Here by Kalina
Gentleman, Alone by femmequixotic
Solace by Northangel27 (WIP)
*A Good Day is the sequel to Survivors, read that one first.
1. “The damage must have been too severe,” she said, sounding uncharacteristically frantic. “I’m sorry, Severus. I really thought…”
“I’m sorry, Severus,” Dumbledore echoed gently. “Poppy, what can you do for him?”
“The potion has damaged the eye beyond repair,” she said, managing to find her professional demeanour once again. “I’m afraid that what’s left of it will have to be removed. It is fortunate that he has the use of his right eye. Once he’s used to seeing out of just that one, he’ll be a good candidate for a magical eye.”
“No,” Snape said firmly. “Do what you have to do now, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“But Severus…”
“I said no,” he snapped. “I’m not an Auror. I’ve no need to see out of the back of my head now that Voldemort’s gone. One eye is sufficient for my needs. Now get on with what you have to do and let me do the same.”
2. Severus ladles a bowl of stew out, and summons a bottle of Glenfiddich eighteen-year from the cabinet in the sitting room. He measures out three fingers then adds a fourth, just for the hell of it, before knocking the glass back. The whisky is bitter and smooth against his tongue; it burns his throat pleasantly.
The kitchen is warm compared to the rest of the house. A fire burns brightly in the hearth, a tweed-upholstered chaise nestled beside it. With a flick of his wand Severus Levitates his stew and the bottle of whisky to a small table between the chaise and the fireplace, then rolls after them. Tapping the side of his chair to set the brake charm, he pushes himself up with a grunt.
It's not painful any longer, moving about. His body is a dead weight from his hips down, but his arms are strong, he's made certain of that. He balances for a moment, swaying, then reaches for the arm of the chaise. A lurch and the usual slight panic that comes when he's not entirely sure he's adjusted for his height or the suddenness of his movement, and then he's settled in the chaise with a thump. A charm jerks his boots off and sends them marching across the room, out into the hall to rest beneath his cloak. Another tap of his wand lowers the back of the chaise slightly, and Severus lifts his legs up with his hands, one at a time and settles against the cushions with a sigh. The chaise adjusts itself to fit the curve of his back, easing the pressure on his spine that's built up from hours in his chair.
3. Then the roses came, but they were delivered by the same cheery nurse who changed his bed sheets and cleaned his face. When Severus placed the customary petal into his mouth to suck and chew upon, it was with a curious mixture of disappointment and surprise. He had been so sure that Hermione would have made sure to deliver the roses personally. He had been expecting to see her with them and had waited patiently for their arrival.
Severus looked out of his high, lonely window and it was only then that he remembered and contemplated the look of repulsion that had passed her face.
Before long, though, he found himself rubbing his beloved petals against his face and lost himself to the world of texture and feeling once more. Surely, some emergency must have kept her at the school. Surely, she had sent these ahead of her as a promissory note of her return. Surely, she would come for him.
The roses continued to come unaccompanied, but Severus could only find himself feeling happy for having them there. He might have again been confined to an existence within one room, but he held the burning knowledge that his life was not a secret. That he had someone who knew him and would send for him. The roses could only be a dutiful reminder of such a promise.
It was when winter melted into spring and Severus watched the world reawaken from his window, that he realized she was not coming.
4. “So am I. My only hope is that the incidents will become less frequent with time. At least, Madam Pomfrey thinks so, but it could take years before it becomes tolerable.”
Hermione’s feeling of guilt, which had been pushed to the back of her mind by the trip and the reunion with her parents, came back full force. “Is there anything I can do, sir?”
“You’ve already done a lot, Miss Granger.” He made a show of pondering what he was going to reveal to her. “Actually, I have been thinking of hiring a personal aide.”
Hermione looked stricken. “Like in ‘personal aide for disabled persons’? But I’ve heard that there weren’t enough nurses in the wizarding world to fill all the job offers in that profession. Well, that was last year….”
“Actually, a nurse would not do for the job. As you have seen, anyone with a bit of common sense and a modicum of magical skill could help me when I have a muscle incident. A nurse would be bored to tears because she-or he- would not have a thing to do between two incidents. No, I need someone who could help me in my duties at Hogwarts as well.”
“But… don’t you have a deputy for that?”
5. Closer to lunch than breakfast.
Which explained his aches.
The healers had been very specific that he had to take his potion at the same time every day. He’d now not done so two in a row and he was definitely feeling it. That wouldn’t do, not if he really intended to live on his own. It had been one of the conditions of his release that a healer examine him at least once a month until St. Mungo’s was certain that he would survive on his own. More, he thought, out of concern for their reputation than his health. He knew that there were several of the healers assigned to him who would have preferred not to be.
He accio’ed the potion to him as he brought the kettle to a boil. He would have to set up an alarm spell to wake him at the proper time. There was no way in hell that he was ever returning to that place.
Consequently, he set a much slower pace this second day. He took the time to prepare some of the food, using a limited knowledge of cooking with his more extensive one of potion brewing. The stew he’d put together would provide meals for several days. Satisfied that he’d done his part for his body, he went off to deal with nourishment for his mind.
By the end of the day, he managed to unpack one entire box of books.
6. "I'm sorry. I'm being a terrible hostess. It's just that...well, I'm not particularly good with small talk."
"Neither am I," he said flatly.
That brought another little smile to her face. She sat forward, her breasts causing a small gap to open up between two of the buttons on her blouse, showing just the tiniest bit of unintentional flesh, making it nearly impossible to connect her with the bushy-haired little know-it-all his mind was supposed to see her as. Severus' imagination added another little tidbit for his libido to enjoy later. Trying to appear casual, he sat back in the horribly soft Muggle armchair and crossed his legs.
Granger noted the movement, and thankfully managed to misinterpret it. "Your leg hasn't gotten any better?"
"No," he said. "But then it hasn't gotten any worse, either."
"Something to be thankful for, I suppose," she said.
He gave a noncommittal hum, wondering yet again what he was doing here.
Granger regarded him over her cup of tea. "I can't believe you haven't said a word about the flat yet."
Well, if she was going to ask..."It's like being trapped in a bowl of oatmeal."
7. “As anxious as I am to be rid of…” he skipped over the particulars of his condition, as though unable to give voice to what she knew he saw as weakness. “Sloppy research will get us nowhere.”
“But if it will improve your condition…” She shook her head. “Why shouldn’t we at least try? Why should you suffer needlessly?”
“Because if this is some sort of freak magical aberration, Granger, if it is simply a sign of some inexplicable link between-between…” He turned away and paced back and forth a little in front of the door to the bath, looking truly agitated. “It will benefit no one but me,” he finally finished. “All this research will be for nothing!”
“Not for nothing,” she murmured. “You will be well, and that… that isn’t nothing. Besides,” she added, “how could a charm work one way on you, but not on another? Is that even possible?”
“Did Flitwick teach you nothing, then?”
“Don’t get nasty,” she bit back. “It’s an honest question.”
8. “This is nothing for which you ought to blame yourself, Miss Granger,” Madam Pomfrey continued, removing a small stack of parchments from her pocket and returning them to their proper size with a wave of her wand. “It’s a well-established but little-discussed theory in Wizarding medicine. Certainly it’s nothing I would expect you to have encountered at your level of education, and as it’s outside the realm of Severus’ area of expertise, neither of you could have hoped to catch on to it.
“You’ve forgotten to include,” she explained matter-of-factly, pointing out the relevant equations, “that Severus is impotent.”
Hermione was amazed to find that she could choke on her own saliva considering how dry her mouth had become. Snape, whose back was toward her, stiffened perceptibly, and the movements of his hands stopped. She saw Albus, still sitting quietly in his portrait, grimace lightly.
“I realize that this probably seems of little importance compared to his other problems,” Madam Pomfrey said, “but even a Muggle physician could extol for you the benefits of sexual health and the drastic complications of its loss. After all, Muggle researchers have been claiming for years in their journals that the release of chemicals like oxytocin and endorphins can have a tremendously positive effect on pain thresholds and healing-”
“What would you suggest, madam?” Snape’s voice had never, to Hermione’s ears, sounded softer or silkier.
9. You know perhaps if you dressed less like a muggle man and more like a witch, you might have more luck with men.”
She slammed down the cup of Blood-Replenishing Potion she had brought him. Its contents sloshed out onto his wooden work table. The edges of his lips curled up into an evil smile. He liked to get a reaction out of her. Well, she wouldn’t give anymore. Two could play at this game, Hermione thought. She knew his weak points just as he knew hers.
“It’s time to take your potion, Snape,” she said sweetly. “You know what happens if you don’t take it.” She looked pointedly at the bandages that covered the perpetually oozing wounds on his neck.
“I’m well aware, Granger,” he said dangerously.
“I’ll be forced to change your bandages because you will be too weak and shaky to do it yourself. And I can’t have my Head Brewer out sick.”
“I am the only Brewer, Granger, and you’ll do well to remember that this company belongs to me.”
10. Severus showed no sign of the pain his daughter must have caused him, jumping on weary and overworked legs. Instead he smiled, gathering her affectionately into his arms. "Did you miss me, then?" he asked in the special gentle tone reserved only for his family.
"All DAY," Helena assured him, snuggling close. "Daddy's never gone 'way for the whole day before," she informed Draco solemnly. "He gets tired."
"That's why I went with him," Draco reminded her, smiling. She was very much like both her parents - a very determined little personality who delighted in imparting knowledge. "Is your mother in the laboratory?"
"Yes. She said to call her when Daddy gets home." Helena looked at her father, clearly torn between staying on his lap and fetching her mother as ordered.
"I'll go call her. You stay and tell Daddy what you did while he was out." Draco slipped out, glad to be away for a moment.
He'd known, intellectually, that his godfather suffered more or less constant pain. Sometimes it was just a few aches and twinges, sometimes it was worse, but it was always there. But watching the lines around his mouth get deeper and deeper during the day, watching him slow down and have to rest more and more often... and in a way, the fact that Severus was clearly enjoying himself immensely had made it worse.
Thanks to borg-princess for selecting this Quiz.
Match the story to the quote:
Lost Time by firefly-124
Ringworm by HulaHula (abandoned)
Being Hermione Granger by amphotera
Man of Property by josanpq
A Good Day by Dyce*
It’s Never That Simple by Missile-Envy
By Any Other Name: Variations on a Theme by death-ofme
Seven Days by septentrion
The Secret Admirer by vanityfair00
Still Here by Kalina
Gentleman, Alone by femmequixotic
Solace by Northangel27 (WIP)
*A Good Day is the sequel to Survivors, read that one first.
1. “The damage must have been too severe,” she said, sounding uncharacteristically frantic. “I’m sorry, Severus. I really thought…”
“I’m sorry, Severus,” Dumbledore echoed gently. “Poppy, what can you do for him?”
“The potion has damaged the eye beyond repair,” she said, managing to find her professional demeanour once again. “I’m afraid that what’s left of it will have to be removed. It is fortunate that he has the use of his right eye. Once he’s used to seeing out of just that one, he’ll be a good candidate for a magical eye.”
“No,” Snape said firmly. “Do what you have to do now, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“But Severus…”
“I said no,” he snapped. “I’m not an Auror. I’ve no need to see out of the back of my head now that Voldemort’s gone. One eye is sufficient for my needs. Now get on with what you have to do and let me do the same.”
2. Severus ladles a bowl of stew out, and summons a bottle of Glenfiddich eighteen-year from the cabinet in the sitting room. He measures out three fingers then adds a fourth, just for the hell of it, before knocking the glass back. The whisky is bitter and smooth against his tongue; it burns his throat pleasantly.
The kitchen is warm compared to the rest of the house. A fire burns brightly in the hearth, a tweed-upholstered chaise nestled beside it. With a flick of his wand Severus Levitates his stew and the bottle of whisky to a small table between the chaise and the fireplace, then rolls after them. Tapping the side of his chair to set the brake charm, he pushes himself up with a grunt.
It's not painful any longer, moving about. His body is a dead weight from his hips down, but his arms are strong, he's made certain of that. He balances for a moment, swaying, then reaches for the arm of the chaise. A lurch and the usual slight panic that comes when he's not entirely sure he's adjusted for his height or the suddenness of his movement, and then he's settled in the chaise with a thump. A charm jerks his boots off and sends them marching across the room, out into the hall to rest beneath his cloak. Another tap of his wand lowers the back of the chaise slightly, and Severus lifts his legs up with his hands, one at a time and settles against the cushions with a sigh. The chaise adjusts itself to fit the curve of his back, easing the pressure on his spine that's built up from hours in his chair.
3. Then the roses came, but they were delivered by the same cheery nurse who changed his bed sheets and cleaned his face. When Severus placed the customary petal into his mouth to suck and chew upon, it was with a curious mixture of disappointment and surprise. He had been so sure that Hermione would have made sure to deliver the roses personally. He had been expecting to see her with them and had waited patiently for their arrival.
Severus looked out of his high, lonely window and it was only then that he remembered and contemplated the look of repulsion that had passed her face.
Before long, though, he found himself rubbing his beloved petals against his face and lost himself to the world of texture and feeling once more. Surely, some emergency must have kept her at the school. Surely, she had sent these ahead of her as a promissory note of her return. Surely, she would come for him.
The roses continued to come unaccompanied, but Severus could only find himself feeling happy for having them there. He might have again been confined to an existence within one room, but he held the burning knowledge that his life was not a secret. That he had someone who knew him and would send for him. The roses could only be a dutiful reminder of such a promise.
It was when winter melted into spring and Severus watched the world reawaken from his window, that he realized she was not coming.
4. “So am I. My only hope is that the incidents will become less frequent with time. At least, Madam Pomfrey thinks so, but it could take years before it becomes tolerable.”
Hermione’s feeling of guilt, which had been pushed to the back of her mind by the trip and the reunion with her parents, came back full force. “Is there anything I can do, sir?”
“You’ve already done a lot, Miss Granger.” He made a show of pondering what he was going to reveal to her. “Actually, I have been thinking of hiring a personal aide.”
Hermione looked stricken. “Like in ‘personal aide for disabled persons’? But I’ve heard that there weren’t enough nurses in the wizarding world to fill all the job offers in that profession. Well, that was last year….”
“Actually, a nurse would not do for the job. As you have seen, anyone with a bit of common sense and a modicum of magical skill could help me when I have a muscle incident. A nurse would be bored to tears because she-or he- would not have a thing to do between two incidents. No, I need someone who could help me in my duties at Hogwarts as well.”
“But… don’t you have a deputy for that?”
5. Closer to lunch than breakfast.
Which explained his aches.
The healers had been very specific that he had to take his potion at the same time every day. He’d now not done so two in a row and he was definitely feeling it. That wouldn’t do, not if he really intended to live on his own. It had been one of the conditions of his release that a healer examine him at least once a month until St. Mungo’s was certain that he would survive on his own. More, he thought, out of concern for their reputation than his health. He knew that there were several of the healers assigned to him who would have preferred not to be.
He accio’ed the potion to him as he brought the kettle to a boil. He would have to set up an alarm spell to wake him at the proper time. There was no way in hell that he was ever returning to that place.
Consequently, he set a much slower pace this second day. He took the time to prepare some of the food, using a limited knowledge of cooking with his more extensive one of potion brewing. The stew he’d put together would provide meals for several days. Satisfied that he’d done his part for his body, he went off to deal with nourishment for his mind.
By the end of the day, he managed to unpack one entire box of books.
6. "I'm sorry. I'm being a terrible hostess. It's just that...well, I'm not particularly good with small talk."
"Neither am I," he said flatly.
That brought another little smile to her face. She sat forward, her breasts causing a small gap to open up between two of the buttons on her blouse, showing just the tiniest bit of unintentional flesh, making it nearly impossible to connect her with the bushy-haired little know-it-all his mind was supposed to see her as. Severus' imagination added another little tidbit for his libido to enjoy later. Trying to appear casual, he sat back in the horribly soft Muggle armchair and crossed his legs.
Granger noted the movement, and thankfully managed to misinterpret it. "Your leg hasn't gotten any better?"
"No," he said. "But then it hasn't gotten any worse, either."
"Something to be thankful for, I suppose," she said.
He gave a noncommittal hum, wondering yet again what he was doing here.
Granger regarded him over her cup of tea. "I can't believe you haven't said a word about the flat yet."
Well, if she was going to ask..."It's like being trapped in a bowl of oatmeal."
7. “As anxious as I am to be rid of…” he skipped over the particulars of his condition, as though unable to give voice to what she knew he saw as weakness. “Sloppy research will get us nowhere.”
“But if it will improve your condition…” She shook her head. “Why shouldn’t we at least try? Why should you suffer needlessly?”
“Because if this is some sort of freak magical aberration, Granger, if it is simply a sign of some inexplicable link between-between…” He turned away and paced back and forth a little in front of the door to the bath, looking truly agitated. “It will benefit no one but me,” he finally finished. “All this research will be for nothing!”
“Not for nothing,” she murmured. “You will be well, and that… that isn’t nothing. Besides,” she added, “how could a charm work one way on you, but not on another? Is that even possible?”
“Did Flitwick teach you nothing, then?”
“Don’t get nasty,” she bit back. “It’s an honest question.”
8. “This is nothing for which you ought to blame yourself, Miss Granger,” Madam Pomfrey continued, removing a small stack of parchments from her pocket and returning them to their proper size with a wave of her wand. “It’s a well-established but little-discussed theory in Wizarding medicine. Certainly it’s nothing I would expect you to have encountered at your level of education, and as it’s outside the realm of Severus’ area of expertise, neither of you could have hoped to catch on to it.
“You’ve forgotten to include,” she explained matter-of-factly, pointing out the relevant equations, “that Severus is impotent.”
Hermione was amazed to find that she could choke on her own saliva considering how dry her mouth had become. Snape, whose back was toward her, stiffened perceptibly, and the movements of his hands stopped. She saw Albus, still sitting quietly in his portrait, grimace lightly.
“I realize that this probably seems of little importance compared to his other problems,” Madam Pomfrey said, “but even a Muggle physician could extol for you the benefits of sexual health and the drastic complications of its loss. After all, Muggle researchers have been claiming for years in their journals that the release of chemicals like oxytocin and endorphins can have a tremendously positive effect on pain thresholds and healing-”
“What would you suggest, madam?” Snape’s voice had never, to Hermione’s ears, sounded softer or silkier.
9. You know perhaps if you dressed less like a muggle man and more like a witch, you might have more luck with men.”
She slammed down the cup of Blood-Replenishing Potion she had brought him. Its contents sloshed out onto his wooden work table. The edges of his lips curled up into an evil smile. He liked to get a reaction out of her. Well, she wouldn’t give anymore. Two could play at this game, Hermione thought. She knew his weak points just as he knew hers.
“It’s time to take your potion, Snape,” she said sweetly. “You know what happens if you don’t take it.” She looked pointedly at the bandages that covered the perpetually oozing wounds on his neck.
“I’m well aware, Granger,” he said dangerously.
“I’ll be forced to change your bandages because you will be too weak and shaky to do it yourself. And I can’t have my Head Brewer out sick.”
“I am the only Brewer, Granger, and you’ll do well to remember that this company belongs to me.”
10. Severus showed no sign of the pain his daughter must have caused him, jumping on weary and overworked legs. Instead he smiled, gathering her affectionately into his arms. "Did you miss me, then?" he asked in the special gentle tone reserved only for his family.
"All DAY," Helena assured him, snuggling close. "Daddy's never gone 'way for the whole day before," she informed Draco solemnly. "He gets tired."
"That's why I went with him," Draco reminded her, smiling. She was very much like both her parents - a very determined little personality who delighted in imparting knowledge. "Is your mother in the laboratory?"
"Yes. She said to call her when Daddy gets home." Helena looked at her father, clearly torn between staying on his lap and fetching her mother as ordered.
"I'll go call her. You stay and tell Daddy what you did while he was out." Draco slipped out, glad to be away for a moment.
He'd known, intellectually, that his godfather suffered more or less constant pain. Sometimes it was just a few aches and twinges, sometimes it was worse, but it was always there. But watching the lines around his mouth get deeper and deeper during the day, watching him slow down and have to rest more and more often... and in a way, the fact that Severus was clearly enjoying himself immensely had made it worse.