Hermione & Snape are writers
It should not come as a surprise to anyone that Severus might choose a career in writing. After all he isn’t much of a people person is he? And perhaps writing might suit Hermione as well since she could research as much as she wanted. Turns out many of our fanfiction authors agree. This week the quiz is all about Severus or Hermione as writers.
Match the story to the quote:
The Witch’s Snare by lady-rhian
Judging Books by Their Covers by melisande88
Defamation of Character by looneyluna
Tale of the Nightshirt by Ladymage Samiko (WIP)
Two Weeks Notice by vanityfair00
Pirate by ladyofthemasque
To You who Least Needs Reminding by Harrietvane
Take Over Bid by dickgloucester
One Down by PiperKirby
The Trail of the Black Star by Mundungus42
Snape, A History by Kailin
His Infamous Red Quill by anogete
1. “Definitely more lucrative than Potions,” Hermione agreed.
“Or any academic area, for that matter.”
“True.” Hermione laughed lightly. “Perhaps I should try my hand at it. I’ll never be able to fund my own research with just my salary as a professor at Hogwarts.”
Severus knew her words were in jest, but he couldn’t help the surge of excitement that washed through him at the very mention of Hermione relating sexual encounters in her own words. He wondered if it would be as wordy and flowing as the essays she wrote during her time as a student. Perhaps it would be too detailed, like her academic writing. Severus bit his tongue trying to hide a smile when he thought of her twelve-inch parchment description of her hero’s nine-inch penis. “Seeing as how you excel at anything you put your mind to, perhaps you should.”
He watched as her cheeks colored to an even darker red. “As much as I’d like to knock Des’ree Derringer off her throne, I don’t think romance novels are quite my strong suit. I believe I’ll stick to my more academic undertakings.”
“Just imagine the Galleons you’d receive for such a bestseller.”
2. Severus stood, unperturbed over her distress. “I’ve made several edits and cannot even begin to tell you how disturbed I am over the main characters in your latest book. I’ve had to put up with Potter for seven years. And I’ve also made notes regarding your outlines for the books after that.
“Please, for Merlin’s sake and my sanity, tell me that you are not actually considering modeling a character after Ronald Weasley.” He gathered a blue notebook and walked into the kitchen area, strategically placing as much distance between them as possible.
Flipping through her pages, she made little strangled noises of disgust as she saw just how much editing Severus Snape had done. Her manuscript was covered in red ink, destroyed and utterly ruined, the familiar scrawl of her Potions assignments splattered like blood on the pages.
Splattered like blood on the pages? That was actually quite good. She would definitely have to work that in somewhere into one of her books.
Hermione opened the notebook to the last clear page and quickly scribbled the thought down. She was always scribbling things down. Writing was her life.
3. “You’re a healthy male who’s interested in women,” Heloise purred back, trailing her fingertips over the swell of her cleavage, before easing the folds of linen to either side. Even in the dim light of the lantern, the twitch of his throat muscles as he swallowed was evident. “I may be a termingant, but I’m still a woman.”
Loosening the cuffs of her shirt, she let him eye her corset as she removed the garment. Sitting on the edge of the bunk, she kept her eyes on him as she unlaced and removed her boots. Then stood and unfastened her trousers, dropping them to reveal her knee-length pantalettes and stockings. Turning to the foot of the wide bunk, she bent over, taking her time as she folded each garment and stowed it in the locker. Wondering if he could see little glimpses of her dark, feminine curls through the gusset-slit, or even how moist she had grown from the thought of her nemesis bound to her bed, awaiting her utter lack of sexual mercy.
…
Holy…! Severus stared at the page, stunned by what he was reading--stunned by what she was writing! Hermione Granger, Little Miss Know-It-All, Head Girl and pain in the intellectual arse…was writing smut?
4. Eventually writer’s block descended on her and Hermione relieved her boredom with games of Solitaire. Flipping through the deck, she ignored the shouts from the Diamond queen.
“The three on the four,” said a voice from behind her.
“There’s a reason why it’s called Solitaire,” she answered even as she moved the card over. He just smirked at her - it was a look she was beginning to hate. He moved around the shop, moving a book here and there before rounding back to where she sat. He looked as restless as Hermione felt.
“The queen to your king,” he said.
“I’ve been telling her that for five minutes now,” the queen sniped. Hermione rolled her eyes and left it where it lay. She protested, however, when Snape picked up her manuscript and began to read.
“That’s not finished!” He just held up his hand, pushed his reading glasses up his nose, and pulled up a chair.
5. “And 30 Across?”
“‘Near miss: A _____ with Death’.” She immediately provided the answer, “‘Brush’.”
His fingers left her wrists and ever-so-gently brushed across her nipples… as he once again counted, this time to thirty.
“Twenty-seven Across?”
“‘Not really mean it’. Hmm. Oh! ‘Tongue in cheek’!”
Severus leaned down and kissed her. To be truthful, he tongued much more than her cheek. And he didn’t count, at least not out loud. But Hermione wasn’t complaining, except when he stopped.
“Eighteen Down?” he murmured.
“‘Jonah’s location’. Well, that one makes no sense at all. It isn’t even a wizarding reference; it’s a Muggle one… Jonah was swallowed by a whale… and the answer needs to have a ‘y’ in it…Ah! The belly.”
6. Bugger. It was pretty and pithy and absolutely true. Her entire book had been cast around him-his life, his experiences, his relationships to the institutions that had bound him at one time or another in ways pleasant and not so pleasant. Hogwarts, the Ministry, houses, the Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix and wizarding culture in general all had a part of him, Severus Snape, that they would never relinquish. And instead of writing dispassionately, or writing about Gryffindor heroes like Potter or Evans or the other Potter, she had written about him. Not disparagingly, either, but, with surprising tenderness and empathy towards her case study's subject alongside the intellectual rigour and deconstruction of power and causality.
It was three in the morning when he had finished devouring the book that was quite literally his entire life, neatly arranged and footnoted. Her owl had long departed and he didn't keep one these days, so there was really no other option available to his early morning mind.
He grabbed the book and Apparated.
7. The rest of her story was easier to tell. Hermione told Severus of the hours she spent-many in his hospital room-writing furiously everything she remembered from her first visit from Hagrid. Even more hours revising what she had written under the influence of his undeniably critical presence-conscious or otherwise.
The boys had emerged, finally, from their grief and shock to realize the state their friend was in. They hadn't been able to do much more than force her to eat decently, but that was enough.
Enough to see her through the book and its intertwined, healing catharsis.
8. “What would the Department of Mysteries say, were they to know that their prize Unspeakable wrote Muggle erotica on the side?” Severus asked.
“I think my supervisor knows, but he’s too much of a prude to ever ask about it,” Hermione said cheerfully.
Severus laughed, a great resonant sound that filled the café. “Excellent. Shall we?” he asked, rising from his seat and offering her his arm, which she took as she stood.
“This is already a wonderful day,” Hermione said. “I’m moving in with you, there’s a new cat waiting for me, my latest book is out, and you’re cooking dinner. Oh, and this coffee was spectacular,” she said. “However did you find this shop?”
“I felt the wards,” he said quietly, his voice barely picking up on the electronic bug. “Someone here is a witch. An owner, probably, perhaps a manager.”
The women in the back room squealed.
9. Halfway down the second bottle, the table between them strewn with take-away boxes and empty plates, the ills of the wizard and Muggle worlds well on the way to being dissected and resolved to their satisfaction, Hermione finally posed the question he had been waiting for.
"How do you keep yourself these days? I know you're not at Hogwarts any more."
"I write," he said, looking shifty.
She looked interested.
"Potions books? Academic papers?"
"Er… no. I have discovered quite a readership for, um, Muggle fantasy-horror novels. And," he added, deciding that it was best to get the worst out of the way all at once, "I write the gossip column in the Daily Prophet."
His wife's eyes widened. They were rather an attractive shade of brown, really.
"Oh good grief - you're Melody Mumble? Everyone reads her - even the goblins! But she knows - you know everything that's going on… How on earth…?"
10. “Excuse me.”
The elderly clerk at Flourish and Blotts jerked his head upright at the sound of Hermione’s voice. “Yes, madam?”
Hermione smiled politely. The man had been asleep behind a stack of books, obviously not expecting someone to interrupt his solitude. “The lady at the front desk said that you might be able to help me.”
“Of course. How may I be of assistance?”
“I’m looking for the latest copy of Hogwarts, A History.”
“It should be on the shelves in the history section.”
The man gave every appearance of wanting her to leave so that he could resume his nap. Hermione’s smile became a little more pained.
“I know. I’ve just come from there. You see, the copies on the shelves are the same edition as the one I have at home. I wanted to buy a more up-to-date version.”
“Which edition do you own, madam?”
“I believe it’s the twenty-third or twenty-fourth. It was published in 1929.”
“Ah. That is the latest edition, then.”
Match the story to the quote:
The Witch’s Snare by lady-rhian
Judging Books by Their Covers by melisande88
Defamation of Character by looneyluna
Tale of the Nightshirt by Ladymage Samiko (WIP)
Two Weeks Notice by vanityfair00
Pirate by ladyofthemasque
To You who Least Needs Reminding by Harrietvane
Take Over Bid by dickgloucester
One Down by PiperKirby
The Trail of the Black Star by Mundungus42
Snape, A History by Kailin
His Infamous Red Quill by anogete
1. “Definitely more lucrative than Potions,” Hermione agreed.
“Or any academic area, for that matter.”
“True.” Hermione laughed lightly. “Perhaps I should try my hand at it. I’ll never be able to fund my own research with just my salary as a professor at Hogwarts.”
Severus knew her words were in jest, but he couldn’t help the surge of excitement that washed through him at the very mention of Hermione relating sexual encounters in her own words. He wondered if it would be as wordy and flowing as the essays she wrote during her time as a student. Perhaps it would be too detailed, like her academic writing. Severus bit his tongue trying to hide a smile when he thought of her twelve-inch parchment description of her hero’s nine-inch penis. “Seeing as how you excel at anything you put your mind to, perhaps you should.”
He watched as her cheeks colored to an even darker red. “As much as I’d like to knock Des’ree Derringer off her throne, I don’t think romance novels are quite my strong suit. I believe I’ll stick to my more academic undertakings.”
“Just imagine the Galleons you’d receive for such a bestseller.”
2. Severus stood, unperturbed over her distress. “I’ve made several edits and cannot even begin to tell you how disturbed I am over the main characters in your latest book. I’ve had to put up with Potter for seven years. And I’ve also made notes regarding your outlines for the books after that.
“Please, for Merlin’s sake and my sanity, tell me that you are not actually considering modeling a character after Ronald Weasley.” He gathered a blue notebook and walked into the kitchen area, strategically placing as much distance between them as possible.
Flipping through her pages, she made little strangled noises of disgust as she saw just how much editing Severus Snape had done. Her manuscript was covered in red ink, destroyed and utterly ruined, the familiar scrawl of her Potions assignments splattered like blood on the pages.
Splattered like blood on the pages? That was actually quite good. She would definitely have to work that in somewhere into one of her books.
Hermione opened the notebook to the last clear page and quickly scribbled the thought down. She was always scribbling things down. Writing was her life.
3. “You’re a healthy male who’s interested in women,” Heloise purred back, trailing her fingertips over the swell of her cleavage, before easing the folds of linen to either side. Even in the dim light of the lantern, the twitch of his throat muscles as he swallowed was evident. “I may be a termingant, but I’m still a woman.”
Loosening the cuffs of her shirt, she let him eye her corset as she removed the garment. Sitting on the edge of the bunk, she kept her eyes on him as she unlaced and removed her boots. Then stood and unfastened her trousers, dropping them to reveal her knee-length pantalettes and stockings. Turning to the foot of the wide bunk, she bent over, taking her time as she folded each garment and stowed it in the locker. Wondering if he could see little glimpses of her dark, feminine curls through the gusset-slit, or even how moist she had grown from the thought of her nemesis bound to her bed, awaiting her utter lack of sexual mercy.
…
Holy…! Severus stared at the page, stunned by what he was reading--stunned by what she was writing! Hermione Granger, Little Miss Know-It-All, Head Girl and pain in the intellectual arse…was writing smut?
4. Eventually writer’s block descended on her and Hermione relieved her boredom with games of Solitaire. Flipping through the deck, she ignored the shouts from the Diamond queen.
“The three on the four,” said a voice from behind her.
“There’s a reason why it’s called Solitaire,” she answered even as she moved the card over. He just smirked at her - it was a look she was beginning to hate. He moved around the shop, moving a book here and there before rounding back to where she sat. He looked as restless as Hermione felt.
“The queen to your king,” he said.
“I’ve been telling her that for five minutes now,” the queen sniped. Hermione rolled her eyes and left it where it lay. She protested, however, when Snape picked up her manuscript and began to read.
“That’s not finished!” He just held up his hand, pushed his reading glasses up his nose, and pulled up a chair.
5. “And 30 Across?”
“‘Near miss: A _____ with Death’.” She immediately provided the answer, “‘Brush’.”
His fingers left her wrists and ever-so-gently brushed across her nipples… as he once again counted, this time to thirty.
“Twenty-seven Across?”
“‘Not really mean it’. Hmm. Oh! ‘Tongue in cheek’!”
Severus leaned down and kissed her. To be truthful, he tongued much more than her cheek. And he didn’t count, at least not out loud. But Hermione wasn’t complaining, except when he stopped.
“Eighteen Down?” he murmured.
“‘Jonah’s location’. Well, that one makes no sense at all. It isn’t even a wizarding reference; it’s a Muggle one… Jonah was swallowed by a whale… and the answer needs to have a ‘y’ in it…Ah! The belly.”
6. Bugger. It was pretty and pithy and absolutely true. Her entire book had been cast around him-his life, his experiences, his relationships to the institutions that had bound him at one time or another in ways pleasant and not so pleasant. Hogwarts, the Ministry, houses, the Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix and wizarding culture in general all had a part of him, Severus Snape, that they would never relinquish. And instead of writing dispassionately, or writing about Gryffindor heroes like Potter or Evans or the other Potter, she had written about him. Not disparagingly, either, but, with surprising tenderness and empathy towards her case study's subject alongside the intellectual rigour and deconstruction of power and causality.
It was three in the morning when he had finished devouring the book that was quite literally his entire life, neatly arranged and footnoted. Her owl had long departed and he didn't keep one these days, so there was really no other option available to his early morning mind.
He grabbed the book and Apparated.
7. The rest of her story was easier to tell. Hermione told Severus of the hours she spent-many in his hospital room-writing furiously everything she remembered from her first visit from Hagrid. Even more hours revising what she had written under the influence of his undeniably critical presence-conscious or otherwise.
The boys had emerged, finally, from their grief and shock to realize the state their friend was in. They hadn't been able to do much more than force her to eat decently, but that was enough.
Enough to see her through the book and its intertwined, healing catharsis.
8. “What would the Department of Mysteries say, were they to know that their prize Unspeakable wrote Muggle erotica on the side?” Severus asked.
“I think my supervisor knows, but he’s too much of a prude to ever ask about it,” Hermione said cheerfully.
Severus laughed, a great resonant sound that filled the café. “Excellent. Shall we?” he asked, rising from his seat and offering her his arm, which she took as she stood.
“This is already a wonderful day,” Hermione said. “I’m moving in with you, there’s a new cat waiting for me, my latest book is out, and you’re cooking dinner. Oh, and this coffee was spectacular,” she said. “However did you find this shop?”
“I felt the wards,” he said quietly, his voice barely picking up on the electronic bug. “Someone here is a witch. An owner, probably, perhaps a manager.”
The women in the back room squealed.
9. Halfway down the second bottle, the table between them strewn with take-away boxes and empty plates, the ills of the wizard and Muggle worlds well on the way to being dissected and resolved to their satisfaction, Hermione finally posed the question he had been waiting for.
"How do you keep yourself these days? I know you're not at Hogwarts any more."
"I write," he said, looking shifty.
She looked interested.
"Potions books? Academic papers?"
"Er… no. I have discovered quite a readership for, um, Muggle fantasy-horror novels. And," he added, deciding that it was best to get the worst out of the way all at once, "I write the gossip column in the Daily Prophet."
His wife's eyes widened. They were rather an attractive shade of brown, really.
"Oh good grief - you're Melody Mumble? Everyone reads her - even the goblins! But she knows - you know everything that's going on… How on earth…?"
10. “Excuse me.”
The elderly clerk at Flourish and Blotts jerked his head upright at the sound of Hermione’s voice. “Yes, madam?”
Hermione smiled politely. The man had been asleep behind a stack of books, obviously not expecting someone to interrupt his solitude. “The lady at the front desk said that you might be able to help me.”
“Of course. How may I be of assistance?”
“I’m looking for the latest copy of Hogwarts, A History.”
“It should be on the shelves in the history section.”
The man gave every appearance of wanting her to leave so that he could resume his nap. Hermione’s smile became a little more pained.
“I know. I’ve just come from there. You see, the copies on the shelves are the same edition as the one I have at home. I wanted to buy a more up-to-date version.”
“Which edition do you own, madam?”
“I believe it’s the twenty-third or twenty-fourth. It was published in 1929.”
“Ah. That is the latest edition, then.”