Prolific Author Series: Sc010f
You know you're getting something special when you read a story by sc010f.
How many authors can claim the range that Scoffy can? Her ingenious plotting, eye for detail, character insight and unmistakably Ravenclaw wit transcend whichever style she's chosen to explore, from the chilling horror of "Unseemly" to "Working Document"'s UST-laden romantic banter, from the side-splitting farce she wrote with the Hissing Harpies to the heart-rending angst and mind-bending mystery of "Meadowlark." Each story she creates is a gem in its own way, and she refuses to be limited by silly things like genres. (Thank goodness.)
Yet Scoffy's greatest gift of all, beyond being a gifted storyteller, is her ability to spin off infinite alternate universes of dazzling complexity, each one a fascinating foray into not only what is for these characters, but what could be. Who else could offer us a cosmetics line based on Snape's secret recipes, a Hermione who's become a vampire, or a universe in which Snape is a carpet salesman? (A snarky carpet salesman, naturally.) Each and every time, she makes it work, and it's always a delight to read how it happens, to ride along as these familiar characters explore new and different worlds.
So that's what today's quiz is all about: exploring the worlds of Scoffy, celebrating the skill with which she creates them and recognizing what a gift it is that she shares them with all of us. I've had the pleasure and honor of being a beta for and collaborator with Scoffy for some time now, and I still feel lucky every time I see her name on some new treat in my inbox. I hope you all enjoy her stories today as much as I always do.
(Our sincere thanks to bluestocking79 for guest writing the introduction for this week's quiz!)
This week's quiz was chosen by mrs_helenesnape.
Would you like to pick the theme for next week's quiz? Play the quiz at any time over the weekend by commenting with your answers. Just comment before the answer sheet goes up on Monday morning, Eastern Standard Time. If you have the correct answers, your name will be entered in our weekly drawing. The winner gets an all expense paid tour of the SSHG Quiz vault and the right to choose next Friday's quiz!
Match the quote to the story title:
Lotions and Potions
An Afternoon in London
Working Document
Where Nobody Knew His Name
Magic Carpet WIP
Ron's to Blame
Example of Widowhood
Tidings of Comfort and Snapes
Meadowlark
The Long Journey to Right
Appropriate Commentary
Evolution (SS/HG/BW)
1. "I'm almost following you." Kingsley frowned.
"Well, it's like this: if we can take what Harry says he saw, combine it with interviews with Mrs Dursley, you, Draco, Lucius Malfoy, all sorts of other people, and then add all that information to what we can learn from his journals, we will get a more complete picture that I'm sure will prove what you and I already know about what a hero he was!" Hermione's eyes shone.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Kingsley said slowly. "He's a complex man."
"Don't I always, Kingsley?"
"If that's the attitude you brought with you when you broke into Gringott's . . ."
Hermione grinned. "I've been meaning to ask you," she said, "why you talk about him as if he were still alive?"
Kingsley inwardly cursed his desire to help his friend and then stopped. An idea began to take shape in his mind: a brilliant but dangerous idea. "I wish he was," he sighed, "but I'll tell you what - perhaps we can help each other."
"How?"
"Severus has, had, a mind like a . . . a . . ." Kingsley began.
"Gringott's Goblin?"
2. "Minerva, what's happened to her?"
"We don't know, Severus. She just started to fade. First her short term memory, and then this. There's no magical reason."
"Where's Weasley?"
"Gone. Hermione was so lost in the early days that he couldn't cope. Rose and Hugo care for her now."
"There's nothing that can be done?"
"Horace is making potions. St. Mungo's is helping. Bill Weasley is working to discover if it was a curse."
"In other words, no."
3. Lying on his sofa that night, Severus found he couldn’t concentrate on either the alcohol or the author. Every time he tried to, Miss Granger’s face, Miss Granger’s voice, Miss Granger herself distracted him.
Five years of dreaming of her, nights of replaying every argument, every episode from their disastrous relationship in his mind: recalling each word, each look, each touch, had not prepared him for seeing her again.
When Severus realized that he was not going to be able to sleep, he began to prepare himself, just in case she decided to return the next morning. As a result, his hair was neatly combed and tied back, his white shirt pressed, and his best pair of khaki trousers cleaned when Kat found him around five, pacing in front of his couch.
“So, she’s not just a former student,” she observed dryly.
“Leave it, woman,” he snarled dangerously.
4. "How often does this happen?" Severus asked Poppy as the pair of them stood before the catatonic girl, who was staring, unseeing, at her books. The watery sunlight failed to permeate the gloom that surrounded the black-clad man.
"We didn't notice it at first, but she was comatose for weeks," Poppy replied. "But now, we can see that it happens more and more. Twice a day, sometimes. She'll stop whatever she was doing and sit. And I've noticed something else, Severus; these episodes are lasting longer and longer."
Severus shifted his weight carefully on his cane and grunted. Poppy looked at him, concerned.
"Was… Did anything happen to her that would cause this?"
Poppy nodded. "Dolohov hit her with a curse at the end of the battle. We don't know what it was," she added, forestalling Severus' next question. "Ginevra Weasley and Kingsley, and neither of them heard the incantation exactly. Ginevra said that the light of the curse was blue, and that's about it."
Severus frowned.
"It is - was - unusual for Antonin to throw careless curses. It must have been something slow-acting, something that we'd not notice, at first."
5. “You and I are going to have a little chat, Auror Weasley,” growls the dark man.
“Granger.” Hermione struggles against her captor. He is stronger than she is, and he is moving her down the escalator into the bowels of the Underground. She knows that nobody will come to her aid: he has her by the elbow and waist - a man escorting his girlfriend. He is so close that she can feel the heat from his body. She smells nothing: a good spy would never go about leaving a scent for all to follow. She can’t feel the tip of his wand digging into her side. For all she knows, he is armed, but it doesn’t feel like it.
“Weasley, I believe is your married name. Divorce does not change that.” He propels her onto the platform.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing much: a home in the country, a young Diana Rigg, chocolate cake with ganache icing - for you to stop following me.”
Hermione smirks. “Just doing my job, sir.”
“I doubt that."
6. Three weeks into our relationship, she takes me into her bed.
I am surprised, uncertain, and pleased. It has been too long since I have made love to a woman. It has been too long since I have even fucked.
It is nice, but for me there is something wrong. After our fourth time, she cries, muffling her sobs in the bathroom where she thinks I cannot hear.
I know she has broken it off with Weasley, and I wonder if she is missing him.
I am honest enough to admit that she knows I am missing somebody too.
7. “Should we let them out?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not, sir?”
“Don’t call me that-you’ve left school.”
“Sorry, s-what should I call you?”
“Severus would be nice. Especially as we’re partners in crime now.”
“Would you call me Hermione?”
“I’d be happy to.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help-you have no idea what it’s like.”
“It is never pleasant to be betrayed by those whom you thought you loved.”
“What do we do next, Severus?”
“Wait two hours. And plot.”
8. Snape was halfway through his third Firewhisky when Hermione finally slid onto the barstool next to him.
"I suppose I should thank your acerbic personality for saving me a seat," she commented.
"Granger." Snape peered at her - he didn't usually drink at lunch and then again before dinner, but today was an exception.
"It's good to see you again, Professor."
"I doubt it." When had she learned to dress, he wondered.
"Firewhisky, please," she asked the bartender.
"What? No Wombat-kiwi Swizzle?"
"Those things are all sugar and fruit cocktail. This gets me drunk faster with less effort and expense."
As she leaned forward to tip the bartender, Snape caught a whiff of something delicate and tilted himself slightly to get a better smell. Granger froze, blushing prettily and then covered it by shifting a bit on her chair.
Which was when he noticed that her legs were covered in very sheer silk, at least up to the top of the slit on the side of her skirt, where the silk ended in some frankly naughty looking black lace.
Suddenly he was happy that he had washed his hair, shaved, and was wearing one of his better shirts.
9. "Good Merlin, girl!" she cackled. "What makes you think Severus is dead? Are you feeble?"
"I… I saw him die," Hermione stammered, blushing.
"Did you now, Miss Granger?" an all-too-familiar voice interrupted Hermione.
"Yes! And we tried to find you sooner, but you're hidden rather well."
In the doorway stood a live Severus Snape. True, he was leaning on a cane, and true, his throat was bandaged, but he was alive.
"Not well enough, apparently,"
"What…" Hermione boggled. "You're supposed to be dead!"
"Supposed to, yes. I do so hate to be a foregone conclusion, but in this case, I don't think I can oblige you," Snape growled, limping into the room.
"We mourned you!" Hermione cried indignantly.
"I'm sure you did. Now sit down and be quiet; Mum gets cross if she misses her Glen Miller Christmas tribute."
10. "But ..." Hermione chewed her lower lip. Questions bubbled to her mind and immediately vanished. What does one ask a recently resurrected hero, anyway? she wondered.
"The question is, Miss Granger," Snape's voice jerked her from her reverie, "what am I going to do with you?"
Hermione looked up to find him standing before her, arms akimbo, feet planted firmly, hip-width apart.
It might have been the concussion, or it might have been whatever it was that Snape had put in the tea, but at that moment, Hermione's head cleared.
And also at that moment, she noticed he was wearing black socks, blue denims, a grey cable-knit jumper, and a beneath that, a white t-shirt. The collar on the jumper hid the massive scaring on his neck, and his hair, longer than it used to be, fell in a silky curtain about his shoulders.
Silky curtain?
Holy Merlin, his hair was clean.
How many authors can claim the range that Scoffy can? Her ingenious plotting, eye for detail, character insight and unmistakably Ravenclaw wit transcend whichever style she's chosen to explore, from the chilling horror of "Unseemly" to "Working Document"'s UST-laden romantic banter, from the side-splitting farce she wrote with the Hissing Harpies to the heart-rending angst and mind-bending mystery of "Meadowlark." Each story she creates is a gem in its own way, and she refuses to be limited by silly things like genres. (Thank goodness.)
Yet Scoffy's greatest gift of all, beyond being a gifted storyteller, is her ability to spin off infinite alternate universes of dazzling complexity, each one a fascinating foray into not only what is for these characters, but what could be. Who else could offer us a cosmetics line based on Snape's secret recipes, a Hermione who's become a vampire, or a universe in which Snape is a carpet salesman? (A snarky carpet salesman, naturally.) Each and every time, she makes it work, and it's always a delight to read how it happens, to ride along as these familiar characters explore new and different worlds.
So that's what today's quiz is all about: exploring the worlds of Scoffy, celebrating the skill with which she creates them and recognizing what a gift it is that she shares them with all of us. I've had the pleasure and honor of being a beta for and collaborator with Scoffy for some time now, and I still feel lucky every time I see her name on some new treat in my inbox. I hope you all enjoy her stories today as much as I always do.
(Our sincere thanks to bluestocking79 for guest writing the introduction for this week's quiz!)
This week's quiz was chosen by mrs_helenesnape.
Would you like to pick the theme for next week's quiz? Play the quiz at any time over the weekend by commenting with your answers. Just comment before the answer sheet goes up on Monday morning, Eastern Standard Time. If you have the correct answers, your name will be entered in our weekly drawing. The winner gets an all expense paid tour of the SSHG Quiz vault and the right to choose next Friday's quiz!
Match the quote to the story title:
Lotions and Potions
An Afternoon in London
Working Document
Where Nobody Knew His Name
Magic Carpet WIP
Ron's to Blame
Example of Widowhood
Tidings of Comfort and Snapes
Meadowlark
The Long Journey to Right
Appropriate Commentary
Evolution (SS/HG/BW)
1. "I'm almost following you." Kingsley frowned.
"Well, it's like this: if we can take what Harry says he saw, combine it with interviews with Mrs Dursley, you, Draco, Lucius Malfoy, all sorts of other people, and then add all that information to what we can learn from his journals, we will get a more complete picture that I'm sure will prove what you and I already know about what a hero he was!" Hermione's eyes shone.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Kingsley said slowly. "He's a complex man."
"Don't I always, Kingsley?"
"If that's the attitude you brought with you when you broke into Gringott's . . ."
Hermione grinned. "I've been meaning to ask you," she said, "why you talk about him as if he were still alive?"
Kingsley inwardly cursed his desire to help his friend and then stopped. An idea began to take shape in his mind: a brilliant but dangerous idea. "I wish he was," he sighed, "but I'll tell you what - perhaps we can help each other."
"How?"
"Severus has, had, a mind like a . . . a . . ." Kingsley began.
"Gringott's Goblin?"
2. "Minerva, what's happened to her?"
"We don't know, Severus. She just started to fade. First her short term memory, and then this. There's no magical reason."
"Where's Weasley?"
"Gone. Hermione was so lost in the early days that he couldn't cope. Rose and Hugo care for her now."
"There's nothing that can be done?"
"Horace is making potions. St. Mungo's is helping. Bill Weasley is working to discover if it was a curse."
"In other words, no."
3. Lying on his sofa that night, Severus found he couldn’t concentrate on either the alcohol or the author. Every time he tried to, Miss Granger’s face, Miss Granger’s voice, Miss Granger herself distracted him.
Five years of dreaming of her, nights of replaying every argument, every episode from their disastrous relationship in his mind: recalling each word, each look, each touch, had not prepared him for seeing her again.
When Severus realized that he was not going to be able to sleep, he began to prepare himself, just in case she decided to return the next morning. As a result, his hair was neatly combed and tied back, his white shirt pressed, and his best pair of khaki trousers cleaned when Kat found him around five, pacing in front of his couch.
“So, she’s not just a former student,” she observed dryly.
“Leave it, woman,” he snarled dangerously.
4. "How often does this happen?" Severus asked Poppy as the pair of them stood before the catatonic girl, who was staring, unseeing, at her books. The watery sunlight failed to permeate the gloom that surrounded the black-clad man.
"We didn't notice it at first, but she was comatose for weeks," Poppy replied. "But now, we can see that it happens more and more. Twice a day, sometimes. She'll stop whatever she was doing and sit. And I've noticed something else, Severus; these episodes are lasting longer and longer."
Severus shifted his weight carefully on his cane and grunted. Poppy looked at him, concerned.
"Was… Did anything happen to her that would cause this?"
Poppy nodded. "Dolohov hit her with a curse at the end of the battle. We don't know what it was," she added, forestalling Severus' next question. "Ginevra Weasley and Kingsley, and neither of them heard the incantation exactly. Ginevra said that the light of the curse was blue, and that's about it."
Severus frowned.
"It is - was - unusual for Antonin to throw careless curses. It must have been something slow-acting, something that we'd not notice, at first."
5. “You and I are going to have a little chat, Auror Weasley,” growls the dark man.
“Granger.” Hermione struggles against her captor. He is stronger than she is, and he is moving her down the escalator into the bowels of the Underground. She knows that nobody will come to her aid: he has her by the elbow and waist - a man escorting his girlfriend. He is so close that she can feel the heat from his body. She smells nothing: a good spy would never go about leaving a scent for all to follow. She can’t feel the tip of his wand digging into her side. For all she knows, he is armed, but it doesn’t feel like it.
“Weasley, I believe is your married name. Divorce does not change that.” He propels her onto the platform.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing much: a home in the country, a young Diana Rigg, chocolate cake with ganache icing - for you to stop following me.”
Hermione smirks. “Just doing my job, sir.”
“I doubt that."
6. Three weeks into our relationship, she takes me into her bed.
I am surprised, uncertain, and pleased. It has been too long since I have made love to a woman. It has been too long since I have even fucked.
It is nice, but for me there is something wrong. After our fourth time, she cries, muffling her sobs in the bathroom where she thinks I cannot hear.
I know she has broken it off with Weasley, and I wonder if she is missing him.
I am honest enough to admit that she knows I am missing somebody too.
7. “Should we let them out?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not, sir?”
“Don’t call me that-you’ve left school.”
“Sorry, s-what should I call you?”
“Severus would be nice. Especially as we’re partners in crime now.”
“Would you call me Hermione?”
“I’d be happy to.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help-you have no idea what it’s like.”
“It is never pleasant to be betrayed by those whom you thought you loved.”
“What do we do next, Severus?”
“Wait two hours. And plot.”
8. Snape was halfway through his third Firewhisky when Hermione finally slid onto the barstool next to him.
"I suppose I should thank your acerbic personality for saving me a seat," she commented.
"Granger." Snape peered at her - he didn't usually drink at lunch and then again before dinner, but today was an exception.
"It's good to see you again, Professor."
"I doubt it." When had she learned to dress, he wondered.
"Firewhisky, please," she asked the bartender.
"What? No Wombat-kiwi Swizzle?"
"Those things are all sugar and fruit cocktail. This gets me drunk faster with less effort and expense."
As she leaned forward to tip the bartender, Snape caught a whiff of something delicate and tilted himself slightly to get a better smell. Granger froze, blushing prettily and then covered it by shifting a bit on her chair.
Which was when he noticed that her legs were covered in very sheer silk, at least up to the top of the slit on the side of her skirt, where the silk ended in some frankly naughty looking black lace.
Suddenly he was happy that he had washed his hair, shaved, and was wearing one of his better shirts.
9. "Good Merlin, girl!" she cackled. "What makes you think Severus is dead? Are you feeble?"
"I… I saw him die," Hermione stammered, blushing.
"Did you now, Miss Granger?" an all-too-familiar voice interrupted Hermione.
"Yes! And we tried to find you sooner, but you're hidden rather well."
In the doorway stood a live Severus Snape. True, he was leaning on a cane, and true, his throat was bandaged, but he was alive.
"Not well enough, apparently,"
"What…" Hermione boggled. "You're supposed to be dead!"
"Supposed to, yes. I do so hate to be a foregone conclusion, but in this case, I don't think I can oblige you," Snape growled, limping into the room.
"We mourned you!" Hermione cried indignantly.
"I'm sure you did. Now sit down and be quiet; Mum gets cross if she misses her Glen Miller Christmas tribute."
10. "But ..." Hermione chewed her lower lip. Questions bubbled to her mind and immediately vanished. What does one ask a recently resurrected hero, anyway? she wondered.
"The question is, Miss Granger," Snape's voice jerked her from her reverie, "what am I going to do with you?"
Hermione looked up to find him standing before her, arms akimbo, feet planted firmly, hip-width apart.
It might have been the concussion, or it might have been whatever it was that Snape had put in the tea, but at that moment, Hermione's head cleared.
And also at that moment, she noticed he was wearing black socks, blue denims, a grey cable-knit jumper, and a beneath that, a white t-shirt. The collar on the jumper hid the massive scaring on his neck, and his hair, longer than it used to be, fell in a silky curtain about his shoulders.
Silky curtain?
Holy Merlin, his hair was clean.