House-elves Quiz - Part 1
They're short, pushy and overly helpful. However, if you don't have a penchant for knitting, they'll probably be your best friends at Hogwarts. Yes, they're house-elves and the SSHG authors and fangirls just love them. Join us this week for a little magic done house-elf style!
Thanks to bluestocking79 for suggesting this quiz theme.
This week's quiz was chosen by leandra713. Apparently she has a thing for House-elves. Don't we all?!?
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 Daylight 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:
Pet Project by caeria WIP
A Hallowe'en Tail by subvers
Hogwarts House-Elves Housekeeping Files: vol. 1990s by Goat of Abe
Get a Life by camillo1978 WIP
An Angel's Touch by talesofsnape WIP
Santa Severus Snape by shiv5468
One of Our Elves is Missing by persevero WIP
Playing Santa by beaweasley2
What Goes Around.... by melusin_79
The Gilded Cage by apollinav
All Lathered Up and Nowhere to Go by peppermint aka voxangelus
Heart's Keeper by little-morph WIP
1. Just when things were going really well, he'd managed to balls things up completely.
And it was all that sodding elf's fault!
Severus wasn't expecting Purdy to show her face, so he was completely unprepared for what greeted him in his bedroom. He covered himself quickly with the towel.
The elf nodded. 'Good morning, sir. Will it be the black...?' He held up a robe in his right hand. 'Or, the... er, black?'
'Who are you?' Severus asked, indicating the garment of his choice.
'Eljay, sir,' the elf replied, laying it out carefully. 'Your new valet.'
'Valet?' Severus choked. 'What do you mean "valet"? You're an elf! And why are you talking so peculiarly?'
Eljay drew himself up to his full three feet. 'If elves are ever to be accepted by wizarding society, we must learn to speak properly. Why, only the other day, Deputy Minister Weasley-'
'Percy?'
2. "Sylvie!" The professor's call was answered with an immediate 'pop' and an old house-elf, wearing spectacles, appeared by the fireplace.
"You want something?" the elf asked in a slightly gravelly voice, staring the professor as squarely in the eye as someone half his height could.
"Is there a Pensieve within the school? Preferably one belonging to the school itself rather than to one of the staff members," the professor demanded.
"Not belonging to the school, not as I know of, but Professor Merrythought has one," the elf announced after brief consideration.
The professor gave a slight snort. "Then that must do. If she is there when you take it, you will tell her that you are to borrow it on Professor Black's orders. Otherwise, you will leave her a note to say it will be returned within the week. You may ask Professor Black for confirmation, if you so wish, but I have no doubt he will be amenable. Can you read, elf?"
"You think I got to need these by doing embroidery?" the elf retorted, gesturing in the direction of his bespectacled face.
Professor Snape's eyebrows lifted up into his hair, and Hermione was sure her own must have done something similar.
3. “You're going to be declared a hero. With an Order of Merlin, even.” Draco shrugged at Severus's sharp look of astonishment. “Potter's already given interviews praising your actions during the War.”
Severus snorted, then coughed, hard and long, wheezing for breath as he struggled to recover. He picked up a cup and took a sip of tea, before setting it down again beside a book on the small table to the right of his chair.
“How did you find out I survived?” he asked roughly.
“Granger's been reading the house-elf files.” Draco grinned at Severus's frown of disapproval. “With their permission, of course.”
“Interfering, namby-pamby, cheerful, bat-eared watchdogs...” Severus grumbled and rolled his eyes. “I suppose I'll have to thank her.”
Draco nodded slowly, his eyes turning serious. “Please go careful there, sir. She's been a good friend to me lately.”
“You must be joking,” Severus wheezed out, looking a little panicked. The thought of that bushy-haired buck-toothed menace admiring him. And Draco Malfoy, protecting her. It was inconceivable.
The younger Malfoy merely grinned at him in answer.
4. Tact, and hunger, suggested that the discussion with the Chief House Elf should take place in the enormous kitchens in the bowels of Hogwarts. There was always something sinister about the kitchens, with their large cauldrons bubbling away with unidentifiable contents, which generated huge clouds of steam to obscure his view.
He could never get rid of the feeling that they were watching him. Frankly, it gave him the creeps, and this was a man who’d hung around in graveyards with scaly-faced Dark Lords, and had lunch at Malfoy Manor.
“Is there anything Sprotty can do for His Professorship, sir?”
Severus suppressed his squeal of surprise, and his instinctive reach for his wand, and turned to find an Elf standing behind him. “I’d like to see the Chief Elf please Sprotty?”
People would be surprised to find that he was unfailingly polite to house elves, where he was generally rude to people. His view was that people didn’t make his dinner, clean his quarters or launder his clothes; elves did. All it took was one elf like Dobby and the best you could hope for was him gobbing in your food; the worst could involve poison. And no one would suspect a house Elf, would they? A House Elf would make a perfect assassin.
So, prudence if not paranoia, made him polite.
“Yes, Your Professorshipness. Right away. Sprotty is so pleased to be able to help the Professor. If he’d be so kind as to follow Sprotty, Sprotty will take him to the Chief Elf.”
And he could never rid himself of the nagging feeling that they were taking the piss when they spoke like that. He recognised sarcasm when he heard it.
5. Hermione noticed several elves near them shudder as Dobby said the dreaded c-word. She wanted to . . . but no, she was here for Professor Snape. She needed to pick her battles and right now the professor was it. If she lost ground with the house-elves -- and truthfully, had she ever really gained any? -- it just couldn't be helped.
Deciding that the best method for her to use would be the quickest and easiest, Hermione climbed up onto the closest kitchen table. Dobby squeaked out a scandalized "Miss!" as she stood up.
"Everyone, please, can I have your attention for a moment," she said, pitching her voice to carry to the far corners of the great kitchen. "I am Hermione Granger. And while I don't know most of you, I understand that you all know me -- by both name and reputation. I've come here today to ask for your help, help that only the house-elves can provide. I know that our relationship in the past hasn't been all that great, and because of that, I don't really have much right to ask for your assistance. But I'm going to ask anyway." Hermione sighed. She really didn't want to say this next part. "In fact, I need your help so much that I'm willing to make a deal with you. If you will agree to help me, I PROMISE I will not attempt to provide clothing to any Hogwarts house-elf unless specifically asked to do so by that elf as a means to release them from service. No more hidden clothes, no more knitted elf hats, no more socks."
Officially renouncing her desire to see all the house-elves properly clothed had a profound effect on the room. From her vantage point atop of the trestle table, she could see the ripple of excitement her words had caused as it spread through the gathered crowd. She had a feeling that within minutes every elf in Hogwarts would know of her capitulation.
6. Hermione thanked the painting and returned to the Register. With Professor Lorin’s information, she was able to find Dilly’s entry quite easily, and she duly noted down the facts.
She next decided to find Winky. After more staring at the wall, she worked out that Winky had been sacked by Barty Crouch after the Quidditch World Cup in the summer after her third year at Hogwarts, 1994. So she turned forwards to late 1994 and located Winky’s entry.
34,087; Winky; elf-name; female; 10/8/1932; Crouch family residence; parents; unmarried; ownership transferred to Hogwarts 12/12/1994; domestic servant; four charges of drunkenness.
There was something written in the small space under the ‘transferred to Hogwarts’ entry that was difficult to read. Hermione cast ‘Lumos’ and held the tip of her wand close to the page.
‘Ownership transferred to Severus Snape 8/7/1996.’
What?
7. The kitchens were relatively quiet at this time of night, with only a few elves scuttling around doing the next day’s baking and prep work. There were usually more elves around, but it was the beginning of a holiday. Maybe they needed fewer workers.
“Potions master be needing something?” asked a passing elf, laden down with a large tray of proofing bread.
“Yes. My shower went out. I need it fixed, but I also need to rinse the shampoo out of my hair,” Severus replied.
“Why is Potions master not using Floo-thingy?” the elf inquired a bit suspiciously.
“I’m out of Floo powder.”
“Why is Potions master not just calling for elves to help from his rooms?”
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off the tension headache that was beginning to bloom behind his eyes. “Because Potions master fancied a stroll through the castle in his pyjamas. Just find me a sink, and find someone to fix my shower!”
From behind him, Severus heard an indignant gasp. Indignant gasps involving house-elves could only come from one source.
8. As Snape screwed the lid back on the cocoa butter and Banished his dirty clothes to his laundry bucket, a loud popping noise echoed through his camp.
‘What brings you, today?’ he called.
‘Winky is celebrating the start of a new job!’ came the reply. ‘Winky has Firewhisky and Lancashire Hotpot!’
Snape stuck his head through the door of his hut and smiled an entirely genuine smile at the house-elf, who was stoking the fire back to life. ‘Congratulations. You’ve escaped the school at last.’
The elf prodded the fire one last time and settled herself onto a roughly-carved wooden stool.
‘Come and eat, and Winky will tell you about it.’
Snape pulled two bottles, two forks and a blanket out of his trunk, shook the blanket thoroughly to remove any unwanted spiders and laid it on the floor near the fire. He flopped down heavily and deftly caught the plateful of delicious-smelling dinner that was levitating towards him. It had been weeks since he’d tasted fresh meat, other than the muddy flesh of the fish he Accio’ed from the nearby river on Friday mornings.
Chucking one of the forks in Winky’s direction, Snape leant against the wooden bench behind him and crossed his legs comfortably. The fire softened his flip-flop straps and warmed his bare feet nicely.
‘Spare me the elf-speak, Winky. It’s been ten years since you revealed your considerable vocabulary.’
‘Well, I’m getting back into practice. The boss noticed when I spoke properly.’
9. Ffoulkes commanded in a rich voice tipped with fatigue, “Daisy, you are summoned.”
Hermione shrieked and jumped as a squat brown house-elf in a dumpy blue tea towel popped in. “Scared the crap out of me,” she murmured quietly.
Daisy’s wide, round eyes quickly filled with tears, her ears flattened, and Hermione readily imagined the elf ironing her hands or some other grisly self-castigation. “It’s all right, it’s fine, it’s not your fault, Daisy!” Hermione said hastily, her arms waving, desperately pleading with the creature. “Please don’t punish yourself over me.”
Daisy giggled and blushed, twisting and tugging on the skirts of her tea towel. “The soiled Mudblood cares for Daisy!” she clapped excitedly.
“Fantastic,” Hermione breathed. “Just what I need, another prejudiced house-elf.”
“Daisy,” Ffoulkes interjected, “this is Madam Hermione Granger. She is married to Mr. Snape, Master of the Prince Homestead. Do you recognize her as your true Mistress?”
Daisy nodded, still wringing her hands on her skirts. For a moment, Hermione was struck by awe for the power and incomprehensible nature of magical creatures. She remembered quite clearly the day when, while holding their collective breaths, the Order waited for Kreacher to recognize Harry as the heir to Grimmauld Place. Their innate ability to know and recognize their ‘Master’ (she still shuddered at that word) was a source of wonder. And a bit of brilliance.
Hermione had a bit of new found respect for Severus. House-elves were incorruptible and nearly infallible in their support and blind dedication to their masters. To utilize one as a Secret-Keeper was ingenious. She supposed more wizards probably didn’t entrust their elves with such things, not because they were unreliable, but because most wizards were simply too arrogant to consider the subhuman creatures worthy.
10. Poppy called the kitchens through her fire and only minutes later, an elf popped in Levitating three dishes.
To Hermione's delight, it was the elf with only one arm, and half a foot, and chewed on ears. He still looked cute despite his shortcomings. She wondered what happened to him, but didn't think she had the right to enquire about it, as she hardly knew him.
"Hello," she called with honest happiness.
"Little Miss," it replied with the tiniest of bows, and put the Levitating dishes onto the small table in a corner. "You seems to have migrated into the infirmary," it pointed out while filling three glass with a dark-red liquid.
"And you seem to have a chocolate smear on your cheek," Hermione replied in the same even tone.
The elf stopped setting the table and wiped both cheeks, only to hear Hermione chuckle amusedly.
"Very funny, little Miss. Don't be surprised if I accidentally sneeze into your soup next time," he warned with an airy tone.
"Don't think I won't notice the green slime," she shot back with a never-fading grin.
"Miss Granger cannot drink wine," Snape interrupted with his usual berating tone, watching the elf with narrowed eyes, but the small creature didn't even so much as blink at the reprimand.
"Little Miss is having cranberry juice," the house-elf declared calmly.
"Oh, my favourite," Hermione said, closing her eyes to savour the slightly bitter taste and rough feeling it left on her tongue.
"I knows," the elf said with what could have been an indulgent smirk, before popping back to the kitchens.
Severus and Poppy looked at each other, both feeling perplexed by the interplay between elf and girl.
Thanks to bluestocking79 for suggesting this quiz theme.
This week's quiz was chosen by leandra713. Apparently she has a thing for House-elves. Don't we all?!?
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 Daylight 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:
Pet Project by caeria WIP
A Hallowe'en Tail by subvers
Hogwarts House-Elves Housekeeping Files: vol. 1990s by Goat of Abe
Get a Life by camillo1978 WIP
An Angel's Touch by talesofsnape WIP
Santa Severus Snape by shiv5468
One of Our Elves is Missing by persevero WIP
Playing Santa by beaweasley2
What Goes Around.... by melusin_79
The Gilded Cage by apollinav
All Lathered Up and Nowhere to Go by peppermint aka voxangelus
Heart's Keeper by little-morph WIP
1. Just when things were going really well, he'd managed to balls things up completely.
And it was all that sodding elf's fault!
Severus wasn't expecting Purdy to show her face, so he was completely unprepared for what greeted him in his bedroom. He covered himself quickly with the towel.
The elf nodded. 'Good morning, sir. Will it be the black...?' He held up a robe in his right hand. 'Or, the... er, black?'
'Who are you?' Severus asked, indicating the garment of his choice.
'Eljay, sir,' the elf replied, laying it out carefully. 'Your new valet.'
'Valet?' Severus choked. 'What do you mean "valet"? You're an elf! And why are you talking so peculiarly?'
Eljay drew himself up to his full three feet. 'If elves are ever to be accepted by wizarding society, we must learn to speak properly. Why, only the other day, Deputy Minister Weasley-'
'Percy?'
2. "Sylvie!" The professor's call was answered with an immediate 'pop' and an old house-elf, wearing spectacles, appeared by the fireplace.
"You want something?" the elf asked in a slightly gravelly voice, staring the professor as squarely in the eye as someone half his height could.
"Is there a Pensieve within the school? Preferably one belonging to the school itself rather than to one of the staff members," the professor demanded.
"Not belonging to the school, not as I know of, but Professor Merrythought has one," the elf announced after brief consideration.
The professor gave a slight snort. "Then that must do. If she is there when you take it, you will tell her that you are to borrow it on Professor Black's orders. Otherwise, you will leave her a note to say it will be returned within the week. You may ask Professor Black for confirmation, if you so wish, but I have no doubt he will be amenable. Can you read, elf?"
"You think I got to need these by doing embroidery?" the elf retorted, gesturing in the direction of his bespectacled face.
Professor Snape's eyebrows lifted up into his hair, and Hermione was sure her own must have done something similar.
3. “You're going to be declared a hero. With an Order of Merlin, even.” Draco shrugged at Severus's sharp look of astonishment. “Potter's already given interviews praising your actions during the War.”
Severus snorted, then coughed, hard and long, wheezing for breath as he struggled to recover. He picked up a cup and took a sip of tea, before setting it down again beside a book on the small table to the right of his chair.
“How did you find out I survived?” he asked roughly.
“Granger's been reading the house-elf files.” Draco grinned at Severus's frown of disapproval. “With their permission, of course.”
“Interfering, namby-pamby, cheerful, bat-eared watchdogs...” Severus grumbled and rolled his eyes. “I suppose I'll have to thank her.”
Draco nodded slowly, his eyes turning serious. “Please go careful there, sir. She's been a good friend to me lately.”
“You must be joking,” Severus wheezed out, looking a little panicked. The thought of that bushy-haired buck-toothed menace admiring him. And Draco Malfoy, protecting her. It was inconceivable.
The younger Malfoy merely grinned at him in answer.
4. Tact, and hunger, suggested that the discussion with the Chief House Elf should take place in the enormous kitchens in the bowels of Hogwarts. There was always something sinister about the kitchens, with their large cauldrons bubbling away with unidentifiable contents, which generated huge clouds of steam to obscure his view.
He could never get rid of the feeling that they were watching him. Frankly, it gave him the creeps, and this was a man who’d hung around in graveyards with scaly-faced Dark Lords, and had lunch at Malfoy Manor.
“Is there anything Sprotty can do for His Professorship, sir?”
Severus suppressed his squeal of surprise, and his instinctive reach for his wand, and turned to find an Elf standing behind him. “I’d like to see the Chief Elf please Sprotty?”
People would be surprised to find that he was unfailingly polite to house elves, where he was generally rude to people. His view was that people didn’t make his dinner, clean his quarters or launder his clothes; elves did. All it took was one elf like Dobby and the best you could hope for was him gobbing in your food; the worst could involve poison. And no one would suspect a house Elf, would they? A House Elf would make a perfect assassin.
So, prudence if not paranoia, made him polite.
“Yes, Your Professorshipness. Right away. Sprotty is so pleased to be able to help the Professor. If he’d be so kind as to follow Sprotty, Sprotty will take him to the Chief Elf.”
And he could never rid himself of the nagging feeling that they were taking the piss when they spoke like that. He recognised sarcasm when he heard it.
5. Hermione noticed several elves near them shudder as Dobby said the dreaded c-word. She wanted to . . . but no, she was here for Professor Snape. She needed to pick her battles and right now the professor was it. If she lost ground with the house-elves -- and truthfully, had she ever really gained any? -- it just couldn't be helped.
Deciding that the best method for her to use would be the quickest and easiest, Hermione climbed up onto the closest kitchen table. Dobby squeaked out a scandalized "Miss!" as she stood up.
"Everyone, please, can I have your attention for a moment," she said, pitching her voice to carry to the far corners of the great kitchen. "I am Hermione Granger. And while I don't know most of you, I understand that you all know me -- by both name and reputation. I've come here today to ask for your help, help that only the house-elves can provide. I know that our relationship in the past hasn't been all that great, and because of that, I don't really have much right to ask for your assistance. But I'm going to ask anyway." Hermione sighed. She really didn't want to say this next part. "In fact, I need your help so much that I'm willing to make a deal with you. If you will agree to help me, I PROMISE I will not attempt to provide clothing to any Hogwarts house-elf unless specifically asked to do so by that elf as a means to release them from service. No more hidden clothes, no more knitted elf hats, no more socks."
Officially renouncing her desire to see all the house-elves properly clothed had a profound effect on the room. From her vantage point atop of the trestle table, she could see the ripple of excitement her words had caused as it spread through the gathered crowd. She had a feeling that within minutes every elf in Hogwarts would know of her capitulation.
6. Hermione thanked the painting and returned to the Register. With Professor Lorin’s information, she was able to find Dilly’s entry quite easily, and she duly noted down the facts.
She next decided to find Winky. After more staring at the wall, she worked out that Winky had been sacked by Barty Crouch after the Quidditch World Cup in the summer after her third year at Hogwarts, 1994. So she turned forwards to late 1994 and located Winky’s entry.
34,087; Winky; elf-name; female; 10/8/1932; Crouch family residence; parents; unmarried; ownership transferred to Hogwarts 12/12/1994; domestic servant; four charges of drunkenness.
There was something written in the small space under the ‘transferred to Hogwarts’ entry that was difficult to read. Hermione cast ‘Lumos’ and held the tip of her wand close to the page.
‘Ownership transferred to Severus Snape 8/7/1996.’
What?
7. The kitchens were relatively quiet at this time of night, with only a few elves scuttling around doing the next day’s baking and prep work. There were usually more elves around, but it was the beginning of a holiday. Maybe they needed fewer workers.
“Potions master be needing something?” asked a passing elf, laden down with a large tray of proofing bread.
“Yes. My shower went out. I need it fixed, but I also need to rinse the shampoo out of my hair,” Severus replied.
“Why is Potions master not using Floo-thingy?” the elf inquired a bit suspiciously.
“I’m out of Floo powder.”
“Why is Potions master not just calling for elves to help from his rooms?”
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off the tension headache that was beginning to bloom behind his eyes. “Because Potions master fancied a stroll through the castle in his pyjamas. Just find me a sink, and find someone to fix my shower!”
From behind him, Severus heard an indignant gasp. Indignant gasps involving house-elves could only come from one source.
8. As Snape screwed the lid back on the cocoa butter and Banished his dirty clothes to his laundry bucket, a loud popping noise echoed through his camp.
‘What brings you, today?’ he called.
‘Winky is celebrating the start of a new job!’ came the reply. ‘Winky has Firewhisky and Lancashire Hotpot!’
Snape stuck his head through the door of his hut and smiled an entirely genuine smile at the house-elf, who was stoking the fire back to life. ‘Congratulations. You’ve escaped the school at last.’
The elf prodded the fire one last time and settled herself onto a roughly-carved wooden stool.
‘Come and eat, and Winky will tell you about it.’
Snape pulled two bottles, two forks and a blanket out of his trunk, shook the blanket thoroughly to remove any unwanted spiders and laid it on the floor near the fire. He flopped down heavily and deftly caught the plateful of delicious-smelling dinner that was levitating towards him. It had been weeks since he’d tasted fresh meat, other than the muddy flesh of the fish he Accio’ed from the nearby river on Friday mornings.
Chucking one of the forks in Winky’s direction, Snape leant against the wooden bench behind him and crossed his legs comfortably. The fire softened his flip-flop straps and warmed his bare feet nicely.
‘Spare me the elf-speak, Winky. It’s been ten years since you revealed your considerable vocabulary.’
‘Well, I’m getting back into practice. The boss noticed when I spoke properly.’
9. Ffoulkes commanded in a rich voice tipped with fatigue, “Daisy, you are summoned.”
Hermione shrieked and jumped as a squat brown house-elf in a dumpy blue tea towel popped in. “Scared the crap out of me,” she murmured quietly.
Daisy’s wide, round eyes quickly filled with tears, her ears flattened, and Hermione readily imagined the elf ironing her hands or some other grisly self-castigation. “It’s all right, it’s fine, it’s not your fault, Daisy!” Hermione said hastily, her arms waving, desperately pleading with the creature. “Please don’t punish yourself over me.”
Daisy giggled and blushed, twisting and tugging on the skirts of her tea towel. “The soiled Mudblood cares for Daisy!” she clapped excitedly.
“Fantastic,” Hermione breathed. “Just what I need, another prejudiced house-elf.”
“Daisy,” Ffoulkes interjected, “this is Madam Hermione Granger. She is married to Mr. Snape, Master of the Prince Homestead. Do you recognize her as your true Mistress?”
Daisy nodded, still wringing her hands on her skirts. For a moment, Hermione was struck by awe for the power and incomprehensible nature of magical creatures. She remembered quite clearly the day when, while holding their collective breaths, the Order waited for Kreacher to recognize Harry as the heir to Grimmauld Place. Their innate ability to know and recognize their ‘Master’ (she still shuddered at that word) was a source of wonder. And a bit of brilliance.
Hermione had a bit of new found respect for Severus. House-elves were incorruptible and nearly infallible in their support and blind dedication to their masters. To utilize one as a Secret-Keeper was ingenious. She supposed more wizards probably didn’t entrust their elves with such things, not because they were unreliable, but because most wizards were simply too arrogant to consider the subhuman creatures worthy.
10. Poppy called the kitchens through her fire and only minutes later, an elf popped in Levitating three dishes.
To Hermione's delight, it was the elf with only one arm, and half a foot, and chewed on ears. He still looked cute despite his shortcomings. She wondered what happened to him, but didn't think she had the right to enquire about it, as she hardly knew him.
"Hello," she called with honest happiness.
"Little Miss," it replied with the tiniest of bows, and put the Levitating dishes onto the small table in a corner. "You seems to have migrated into the infirmary," it pointed out while filling three glass with a dark-red liquid.
"And you seem to have a chocolate smear on your cheek," Hermione replied in the same even tone.
The elf stopped setting the table and wiped both cheeks, only to hear Hermione chuckle amusedly.
"Very funny, little Miss. Don't be surprised if I accidentally sneeze into your soup next time," he warned with an airy tone.
"Don't think I won't notice the green slime," she shot back with a never-fading grin.
"Miss Granger cannot drink wine," Snape interrupted with his usual berating tone, watching the elf with narrowed eyes, but the small creature didn't even so much as blink at the reprimand.
"Little Miss is having cranberry juice," the house-elf declared calmly.
"Oh, my favourite," Hermione said, closing her eyes to savour the slightly bitter taste and rough feeling it left on her tongue.
"I knows," the elf said with what could have been an indulgent smirk, before popping back to the kitchens.
Severus and Poppy looked at each other, both feeling perplexed by the interplay between elf and girl.