Prolific Author Series: MiaMadwyn
The SSHG Quiz is indebted to the many incredible authors who write SSHG stories. Today's guest author is the amazing juno_magic here to introduce the latest in our Prolific Author Series: miamadwyn. Take it away, Juno!
Since she started posting "Care of Magical Creatures" at Ashwinder, The Petulant Poetess, OWL, and FanFiction Net in 2007, Mia Madwyn has been a force of nature in SS/HG fandom.
Her magical writing has prompted thousands of reviews, inspired works of fanart, was translated into other languages, has been praised with a several fandom awards, and is recommended on many lists and sites. From bawdy, dialogue-only comedy and epic, angsty romance to deeply philosophical tragedy, Mia's versatile style never fails to amaze and touch her readers.
Her enthusiasm knows no bounds. She is an active member of many fandom communities, keeps up an entertaining and inspiring LiveJournal, has participated in the SS/HG Exchange and the Snuna Exchange, and is one of the great champions of Gryffindor House at the OWL House Cup game 2009.
Mia is fiercely passionate about writing, and her support for fellow fanfic writers is indefatigable. As alpha-reader, beta-reader, cheerleader, defender, reviewer or when she virtually holds hands through difficult times of writing, she's always ready to help.
Now it's time give back some of that creative energy Mia shares with us so generously all the time! Take care of our magical Mia and answer the quiz!
This quiz is one of our Special Edition quizzes. You know what that means, right? Yep, there's a special prize at stake! A Potter prezzie just for you, if you are the winner. Just comment with your answers any time before the answers post goes up on Monday morning (EST) and your name will be in the winner's drawing. You can do it!
Match the quote to the story title:
Care of Magical Creatures
Heart's Desire WIP
Her Grandmothers' Tea
The Dissolution Law
That F---ing Book WIP
The Nine Year (Seven Month, Twelve Day, Fourteen Hour, Thirty-seven Minute) Plan
Snip & Snails
The Marriage Benefit
Daddy's Girl
First, You Have to Understand
Font
Stargazing
1. "Mrs Weasley-"
"Ms Granger."
"Miss Granger, then, it's an honor to-"
"Ms. And stop smirking. The wind might change and then where would you be?"
"In the same place that I am now. Headmaster of Hogwarts, with your future in my hands."
"Hardly."
"Despite your weak CV-"
"Weak!"
"All study, no practical work experience."
"I was-"
"Raising a family, yes, I know. Despite that, and your tendency to exploit your somewhat dubious status as a war hero-"
"Dubious!"
2. He glared at the ridiculous sight of Miss Granger ignoring a full moon to read her book by wandlight. “Put that out.”
Looking resentful, she did.
He popped the cork with the magical goblin-made cork-popper he’d pilfered from Lucius and drank straight from the bottle.
“Are you getting drunk?”
“And if I am?” He bristled.
“You’re rather…” She glanced sideways at him, then quickly back at the sky. “You’re rather sexy when you’re drunk.”
Fucking hell!
He slammed the bottle down on the stone; it was a wonder he didn’t break it.
He could swear she was blushing, though in the moonlight it was difficult to tell.
3. Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his watery eyes. "It’s not as if there are any surprises here. But certainly George Weasley would be a logical choice. There are plenty of Weasleys to offer protection, after all. And now that I consider it, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger have much in common-"
"Precisely what does she have in common with him?" Snape bit out. "Surely you’re not suggesting that because they are closer in age-"
Dumbledore fixed him with a piercing stare. "No, Severus, that never crossed my mind, though it’s significant that it crossed yours. I was referring to the fact that in times like these they have perhaps the strongest bond that those entering an arranged marriage might have." He returned his spectacles to his nose, and Snape felt a tinge of irritation at the way the old wizard studied him. "They love the same people."
"I hope you’ll forgive me if I find the sentiment overrated," he responded blandly. "And the only way George or Fred Weasley would have the attention span to keep adequate watch over Miss Granger’s safety is if she periodically emitted sparks, smoke and whistling wheezes from every orifice of her body!"
"Severus!" Dumbledore clearly wasn’t sure whether to laugh or reprimand, though Snape had a feeling laughter would win out.
Weasleys' Skiving Snackboxes, indeed.
"I think you underestimate Miss Granger," he continued. "She’s done quite a thorough assessment of my potential as her husband. My … maturity-" Best not linger on that one. "-evil temper, my tendency to fight dirty as she so bluntly expressed it … and my lack of scruples?" He allowed himself a satisfied smirk. "And those are just a few of my strengths as she perceives them."
4. Apparating into Hermione’s old bedroom at The Grange was the last step. They would be living at the Grange for a year or two, until they settled into this new life.
But tonight, tonight Gussie was downstairs holding court with Mama and Papa Granger.
Hermione squeezed Severus’s hand and blinked back tears. All would be well. It would have to be.
As they walked down the wide staircase together, the sound of gleeful laughter rose to greet them. Full-bodied chortling that indicated mischief brewing. Gussie clearly had the Grangers wrapped around her pinkie.
They entered the parlour to find Sir Alistair and Lady Granger frozen in dismay-
And Gussie squealing in delight as she levitated an egg-a Faberge egg-in the air before her.
It twirled.
It circled.
It danced.
Lady Granger’s eyes met Hermione’s in a silent command. Take care of this now!
But Severus only had eyes for Gussie.
5. "It was unforgivable."
Slowly, breathe slowly.
"Notice," she said crisply, each consonant sounded to perfection, "I don't couch this in terms of, 'I don't believe,' or 'I feel,' but in the definitive, because to me, it is a fact as immutable as gravity. What you did was unforgivable."
Somewhere, water dripped into a sink. Think about that, not what she is saying…
"Not what you called her. What you did."
There was no softness, no gentleness here.
"You joined evil. There was no excuse for that-none. You embraced evil… evil out in the open that was determined to annihilate her and those she loved… people like me. She couldn’t forgive you for that, nor could I…"
6. “Severus, it seems that the castle has already rearranged itself and has closed off the external entrance from Hermione’s quarters to the corridor. We need to access her room through yours.”
“I think not,” he snapped, and walked past the four of them toward the dank, dungeon stairway. “Whatever she needs, she can collect but I won’t have a parade of spectators through my quarters.”
“Severus, she is ill. She is in a very bad way, and the Healers-”
He stopped and whisked into a turn to face her again. “What do you mean, ill?”
“She’s in the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo’s,” Minerva said, her voice strained.
“Incredible.” He stared at them all in disbelief. “I have her for five years without managing to break her, and you lot do it in five hours?”
“The Healers,” Minerva began again, “diagnosed her with a severe case of Pensieve poisoning but even after they treated it she still-”
“Are the lunatics in charge of triage, now? Hermione isn’t some lust-driven teenaged wizard who-”
“Oh, Merlin’s beard, Severus, Pensieve poisoning isn’t just the realm of wizards with a stash of memory porn,” Minerva replied crisply. “And as your superior, I require you to let me into Hermione’s quarters to retrieve the Pensieve-”
“Over my dead body.”
“Which could easily be arranged,” Lucius purred.
7. He watched her watching him.
She had watched him all along, of course. While reading to him-nervous glances. While bustling about his bed at St Mungo's-concerned glances. While moving him into Grimmauld Place-lingering glances.
She wore her heart in her eyes. Even without Legilimency, her thoughts were crystal.
To know what she was thinking and to sense when her thoughts shifted into something new took no effort.
When he-with great calculation-was caught without a shirt on one rainy Tuesday morning, she was stunned. She bustled into his room in her usual manner, the door thrown open after a brisk knock, never considering that he might not want her there, the insolent girl. And just as he intended, she froze at the sight of him reaching for the crisp white shirt. Her cheeks flushed and she gasped an embarrassed apology and disappeared with a squeaky, "I'll talk to you downstairs."
But her eyes had stroked down his body like lightning, and he'd dropped back into his chair, every nerve on fire. He might not be bound with muscles like the dog-as if he'd ever aspire to such a thing-but his shoulders had filled out to the point where no one would mistake him for an invalid.
He'd seen her eyes flicker down to the narrow trail of black that disappeared beneath his black trousers.
He’d seen her eyes dilate.
Yes, he'd seen it all.
8. "You know," she said, suddenly brightening, "if you're interested, the crypt under the nave is actually dry, and you can get up into all the nooks and crannies and examine the-"
"I'm not interested," he snapped, his annoyance ratcheting up exponentially with each swotty word she uttered. "But feel free to go down there yourself. Don't let me stop you." He didn't have time for this. He reached inside his jacket for the phial and instantly regretted it when her eyes lit on his hand.
"What an odd little bottle. Whatever is it for?"
He scooped up a goodly amount of holy water, gauging how quickly he could do an Obliviate. He simply couldn't wait any longer. He stoppered it, giving her a measured look. She didn't appear ready to sound an alarm.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I put some under a microscope, and don't tell anyone, I really wouldn't want to hurt Father Gadbury's feelings, but…" She glanced around and leaned forward conspiratorially. "It looked just like plain water to me."
"Indeed," he sneered.
She gave a sharp nod. "If you see something different, will you let me know?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, yes," he muttered, tucking everything away and preparing to leave.
"You're sure you don't want to see the crypt? It's really quite fascinating, and I could tell you all about its history-"
"I'm sure you could," he snapped, wondering how many guide books she'd memorised.
9. To Hermione's surprise, Snape stepped ahead of her as they arrived at the door and reached over her head to hold it open-something only the most insipidly lovelorn wizard would ever do, considering how automatic it was to simply open the door magically. Splendid touch, that. "Thank you, darling," she cooed and fluttered her lashes up at him as she brushed past him and into the staffroom.
"Any time, my treasure," he said, his voice so silky she didn't know whether to laugh or scoff.
The stunned expressions on the rest of the room's occupants tipped her a little too close to laughter, so she quickly grabbed his arm and buried her face in his chest while she fought for composure.
"My most revered colleagues," Snape announced over her head, "my dear Hermione and I wanted you to be the first to know…."
"We're getting married," she said, and flashed a (hopefully) angelic smile. "I'm the happiest witch in the world!"
Neville goggled up at her. "You? And Snape?"
Hooch spewed tea across the table. "Bugger that!"
Flitwick sputtered, evidently unable to say a word.
"If you think I'm going to allow this travesty-" Minerva began.
Hermione mustered her best quivering lower lip and summoned tears. "I-I thought you'd be happy for us!"
Snape shoved a handkerchief in her hand and pulled her closer. "I think," he said, his tone pure ice, "you will have to finish the day without us. I refuse to allow you to upset my fiancée in such a manner."
10. "It would be done very tastefully-"
"Don't use that word."
"What word? Tasteful-"
"Yes, that word. In a discussion. About sex. With teenagers."
"I don't see how I can discuss oral sex without mentioning-"
"What?!?"
"-taste. Severus? Professor! Wait! Where are you going?"
"To kill Albus Dumbledore."
"You can't kill the headmaster!"
"Watch me and learn."
"People will never forgive you!"
"People will sing my praises from the highest mountaintops if I kill that miserable old pervert. I will kill him a dozen different ways and then variations on same, and when I've finished-"
"PG Tips?
"Well… after tea, then."
Since she started posting "Care of Magical Creatures" at Ashwinder, The Petulant Poetess, OWL, and FanFiction Net in 2007, Mia Madwyn has been a force of nature in SS/HG fandom.
Her magical writing has prompted thousands of reviews, inspired works of fanart, was translated into other languages, has been praised with a several fandom awards, and is recommended on many lists and sites. From bawdy, dialogue-only comedy and epic, angsty romance to deeply philosophical tragedy, Mia's versatile style never fails to amaze and touch her readers.
Her enthusiasm knows no bounds. She is an active member of many fandom communities, keeps up an entertaining and inspiring LiveJournal, has participated in the SS/HG Exchange and the Snuna Exchange, and is one of the great champions of Gryffindor House at the OWL House Cup game 2009.
Mia is fiercely passionate about writing, and her support for fellow fanfic writers is indefatigable. As alpha-reader, beta-reader, cheerleader, defender, reviewer or when she virtually holds hands through difficult times of writing, she's always ready to help.
Now it's time give back some of that creative energy Mia shares with us so generously all the time! Take care of our magical Mia and answer the quiz!
This quiz is one of our Special Edition quizzes. You know what that means, right? Yep, there's a special prize at stake! A Potter prezzie just for you, if you are the winner. Just comment with your answers any time before the answers post goes up on Monday morning (EST) and your name will be in the winner's drawing. You can do it!
Match the quote to the story title:
Care of Magical Creatures
Heart's Desire WIP
Her Grandmothers' Tea
The Dissolution Law
That F---ing Book WIP
The Nine Year (Seven Month, Twelve Day, Fourteen Hour, Thirty-seven Minute) Plan
Snip & Snails
The Marriage Benefit
Daddy's Girl
First, You Have to Understand
Font
Stargazing
1. "Mrs Weasley-"
"Ms Granger."
"Miss Granger, then, it's an honor to-"
"Ms. And stop smirking. The wind might change and then where would you be?"
"In the same place that I am now. Headmaster of Hogwarts, with your future in my hands."
"Hardly."
"Despite your weak CV-"
"Weak!"
"All study, no practical work experience."
"I was-"
"Raising a family, yes, I know. Despite that, and your tendency to exploit your somewhat dubious status as a war hero-"
"Dubious!"
2. He glared at the ridiculous sight of Miss Granger ignoring a full moon to read her book by wandlight. “Put that out.”
Looking resentful, she did.
He popped the cork with the magical goblin-made cork-popper he’d pilfered from Lucius and drank straight from the bottle.
“Are you getting drunk?”
“And if I am?” He bristled.
“You’re rather…” She glanced sideways at him, then quickly back at the sky. “You’re rather sexy when you’re drunk.”
Fucking hell!
He slammed the bottle down on the stone; it was a wonder he didn’t break it.
He could swear she was blushing, though in the moonlight it was difficult to tell.
3. Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his watery eyes. "It’s not as if there are any surprises here. But certainly George Weasley would be a logical choice. There are plenty of Weasleys to offer protection, after all. And now that I consider it, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger have much in common-"
"Precisely what does she have in common with him?" Snape bit out. "Surely you’re not suggesting that because they are closer in age-"
Dumbledore fixed him with a piercing stare. "No, Severus, that never crossed my mind, though it’s significant that it crossed yours. I was referring to the fact that in times like these they have perhaps the strongest bond that those entering an arranged marriage might have." He returned his spectacles to his nose, and Snape felt a tinge of irritation at the way the old wizard studied him. "They love the same people."
"I hope you’ll forgive me if I find the sentiment overrated," he responded blandly. "And the only way George or Fred Weasley would have the attention span to keep adequate watch over Miss Granger’s safety is if she periodically emitted sparks, smoke and whistling wheezes from every orifice of her body!"
"Severus!" Dumbledore clearly wasn’t sure whether to laugh or reprimand, though Snape had a feeling laughter would win out.
Weasleys' Skiving Snackboxes, indeed.
"I think you underestimate Miss Granger," he continued. "She’s done quite a thorough assessment of my potential as her husband. My … maturity-" Best not linger on that one. "-evil temper, my tendency to fight dirty as she so bluntly expressed it … and my lack of scruples?" He allowed himself a satisfied smirk. "And those are just a few of my strengths as she perceives them."
4. Apparating into Hermione’s old bedroom at The Grange was the last step. They would be living at the Grange for a year or two, until they settled into this new life.
But tonight, tonight Gussie was downstairs holding court with Mama and Papa Granger.
Hermione squeezed Severus’s hand and blinked back tears. All would be well. It would have to be.
As they walked down the wide staircase together, the sound of gleeful laughter rose to greet them. Full-bodied chortling that indicated mischief brewing. Gussie clearly had the Grangers wrapped around her pinkie.
They entered the parlour to find Sir Alistair and Lady Granger frozen in dismay-
And Gussie squealing in delight as she levitated an egg-a Faberge egg-in the air before her.
It twirled.
It circled.
It danced.
Lady Granger’s eyes met Hermione’s in a silent command. Take care of this now!
But Severus only had eyes for Gussie.
5. "It was unforgivable."
Slowly, breathe slowly.
"Notice," she said crisply, each consonant sounded to perfection, "I don't couch this in terms of, 'I don't believe,' or 'I feel,' but in the definitive, because to me, it is a fact as immutable as gravity. What you did was unforgivable."
Somewhere, water dripped into a sink. Think about that, not what she is saying…
"Not what you called her. What you did."
There was no softness, no gentleness here.
"You joined evil. There was no excuse for that-none. You embraced evil… evil out in the open that was determined to annihilate her and those she loved… people like me. She couldn’t forgive you for that, nor could I…"
6. “Severus, it seems that the castle has already rearranged itself and has closed off the external entrance from Hermione’s quarters to the corridor. We need to access her room through yours.”
“I think not,” he snapped, and walked past the four of them toward the dank, dungeon stairway. “Whatever she needs, she can collect but I won’t have a parade of spectators through my quarters.”
“Severus, she is ill. She is in a very bad way, and the Healers-”
He stopped and whisked into a turn to face her again. “What do you mean, ill?”
“She’s in the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo’s,” Minerva said, her voice strained.
“Incredible.” He stared at them all in disbelief. “I have her for five years without managing to break her, and you lot do it in five hours?”
“The Healers,” Minerva began again, “diagnosed her with a severe case of Pensieve poisoning but even after they treated it she still-”
“Are the lunatics in charge of triage, now? Hermione isn’t some lust-driven teenaged wizard who-”
“Oh, Merlin’s beard, Severus, Pensieve poisoning isn’t just the realm of wizards with a stash of memory porn,” Minerva replied crisply. “And as your superior, I require you to let me into Hermione’s quarters to retrieve the Pensieve-”
“Over my dead body.”
“Which could easily be arranged,” Lucius purred.
7. He watched her watching him.
She had watched him all along, of course. While reading to him-nervous glances. While bustling about his bed at St Mungo's-concerned glances. While moving him into Grimmauld Place-lingering glances.
She wore her heart in her eyes. Even without Legilimency, her thoughts were crystal.
To know what she was thinking and to sense when her thoughts shifted into something new took no effort.
When he-with great calculation-was caught without a shirt on one rainy Tuesday morning, she was stunned. She bustled into his room in her usual manner, the door thrown open after a brisk knock, never considering that he might not want her there, the insolent girl. And just as he intended, she froze at the sight of him reaching for the crisp white shirt. Her cheeks flushed and she gasped an embarrassed apology and disappeared with a squeaky, "I'll talk to you downstairs."
But her eyes had stroked down his body like lightning, and he'd dropped back into his chair, every nerve on fire. He might not be bound with muscles like the dog-as if he'd ever aspire to such a thing-but his shoulders had filled out to the point where no one would mistake him for an invalid.
He'd seen her eyes flicker down to the narrow trail of black that disappeared beneath his black trousers.
He’d seen her eyes dilate.
Yes, he'd seen it all.
8. "You know," she said, suddenly brightening, "if you're interested, the crypt under the nave is actually dry, and you can get up into all the nooks and crannies and examine the-"
"I'm not interested," he snapped, his annoyance ratcheting up exponentially with each swotty word she uttered. "But feel free to go down there yourself. Don't let me stop you." He didn't have time for this. He reached inside his jacket for the phial and instantly regretted it when her eyes lit on his hand.
"What an odd little bottle. Whatever is it for?"
He scooped up a goodly amount of holy water, gauging how quickly he could do an Obliviate. He simply couldn't wait any longer. He stoppered it, giving her a measured look. She didn't appear ready to sound an alarm.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I put some under a microscope, and don't tell anyone, I really wouldn't want to hurt Father Gadbury's feelings, but…" She glanced around and leaned forward conspiratorially. "It looked just like plain water to me."
"Indeed," he sneered.
She gave a sharp nod. "If you see something different, will you let me know?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, yes," he muttered, tucking everything away and preparing to leave.
"You're sure you don't want to see the crypt? It's really quite fascinating, and I could tell you all about its history-"
"I'm sure you could," he snapped, wondering how many guide books she'd memorised.
9. To Hermione's surprise, Snape stepped ahead of her as they arrived at the door and reached over her head to hold it open-something only the most insipidly lovelorn wizard would ever do, considering how automatic it was to simply open the door magically. Splendid touch, that. "Thank you, darling," she cooed and fluttered her lashes up at him as she brushed past him and into the staffroom.
"Any time, my treasure," he said, his voice so silky she didn't know whether to laugh or scoff.
The stunned expressions on the rest of the room's occupants tipped her a little too close to laughter, so she quickly grabbed his arm and buried her face in his chest while she fought for composure.
"My most revered colleagues," Snape announced over her head, "my dear Hermione and I wanted you to be the first to know…."
"We're getting married," she said, and flashed a (hopefully) angelic smile. "I'm the happiest witch in the world!"
Neville goggled up at her. "You? And Snape?"
Hooch spewed tea across the table. "Bugger that!"
Flitwick sputtered, evidently unable to say a word.
"If you think I'm going to allow this travesty-" Minerva began.
Hermione mustered her best quivering lower lip and summoned tears. "I-I thought you'd be happy for us!"
Snape shoved a handkerchief in her hand and pulled her closer. "I think," he said, his tone pure ice, "you will have to finish the day without us. I refuse to allow you to upset my fiancée in such a manner."
10. "It would be done very tastefully-"
"Don't use that word."
"What word? Tasteful-"
"Yes, that word. In a discussion. About sex. With teenagers."
"I don't see how I can discuss oral sex without mentioning-"
"What?!?"
"-taste. Severus? Professor! Wait! Where are you going?"
"To kill Albus Dumbledore."
"You can't kill the headmaster!"
"Watch me and learn."
"People will never forgive you!"
"People will sing my praises from the highest mountaintops if I kill that miserable old pervert. I will kill him a dozen different ways and then variations on same, and when I've finished-"
"PG Tips?
"Well… after tea, then."