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Match the quote to the story title:
Appointment in Oxford by Druid's Rose
Real Magic by talesofsnape
A Matter of Life and Death by bethbethbeth
Toby Snape and the Wholly Holy Hideout by hayseed_42
Who Are You? by firefly124
All Will Be Revealed by Dame Niamh
Making Edward by severely_lupine
Five Years Ago by stliteaphrodite
A Proper Romance by Keryl Raist
Reading Season by iulia_linnea
The Snark And The Spark by septentrion1970
Magnum Opus by sc010f
1. “Vicar, I--“
“Save it,” she snapped, shoving a bag of ice in his hand and gesturing toward her sofa. “Your eye is going to be swelled shut tomorrow if you don’t take care of it.”
Mutely, he sat down, clapped the bag over his face, and settled for glaring over at Granger, who was sitting in the recliner, taut as a drawn bow and tapping her recovered wand on her knee. She had several branches sticking out of her hair, but he wasn’t about to bring it up. “Auntie,” she said in a sharp voice.
The vicar rounded on her and shook a finger at her bloody nose. “Don’t you ‘auntie’ me, little miss,” she retorted. “I don’t know what the hell you two are up to, but you’re not disrupting the entire village by throwing spells at each other out in the open like that. I’m not putting up with one of those stupid squads of your wizards in bathrobes wiping memories all over the place. Not tonight.”
Toby’s mouth fell open. “But you... she... how do you...?”
Granger smirked unattractively. “What, you didn’t think my own blood relatives don’t know I’m a witch? I didn’t know you were evil and stupid, Snape.”
He didn’t have to wait long; all the vicar had to do was lean about six inches to the left to thump Granger in the back of the head. “Keep talking about one of my closest friends that way and we’ll just see how welcome you are on your little Dibley holiday, Hermione.”
“But he is,” she muttered in a sullen voice, sounding like a stubborn six-year-old. “He’s got you, like, Confounded or something. Don’t let him sucker you in, Aunt Gerry.”
“I’ve done no such thing,” he said, quirking his good eyebrow. “Keep in mind, Granger, that you came looking for me. If anyone is at fault here, it’s clearly you.”
Her expression was indignant and the little part of him that would always be locked in the dungeons at Hogwarts longed to take points from Gryffindor. “I did not,” she breathed angrily. “You horrible, evil... why couldn’t you just stay dead?”
The vicar’s eyebrows damn near went through the roof.
2. "Your Ministry has some tricks. There's a reason almost all your trouble comes from maniac Wizards. The same reason I'm not in England. Beyond you, Luv." He stroked Buffy's hair. "I was back shortly after the Great War, when your Ministry got itself in order and developed the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures. One day after the Great War I woke up unable to move, there's three blokes in billowy robes, two are holding stakes, and the other one's got some sort of ball of sunshine, and they're all smiling at me. They start explain how," Spike's accent went Oxfordian suddenly, 'Due to the passage of the Control of Violent Magical Beings Act of 1919, you are given the option of relocation or death. If you'd like us to relocate you, you can blink, or we can stake you now.'" His accent went back to its usual rhythms, "I tried to fight for just long enough to realize the only muscles I could move were my eyelids, and then I blinked.
"I've been back a few times, and usually within two hours one of those sodding wizards is sitting next to me offering me a one way trip to somewhere else. I haven't had a real fry up in decades. Fish and chips, they try here, but it just isn't the same. Thank God for satellite telly or I'd have to say goodbye to West Ham United." Spike took a drink.
"How do you think Sanguini got to stay?" Hermione asked Snape.
"Sanguini? Tall bloke, pale, spends way too much time watching the young ladies?" Spike asked.
"You know him?" Hermione answered.
"Bleeding prat. He's not actually a Vampire. I'm not sure what exactly he is, but he's not one of us. Probably one of you with a glamour, some pointy teeth, and a really slow pulse. He's in it for the seduction value. Dracula did it first, and better, but Drac's dead, so why not try to fill his niche?"
"So, how do you know him?" Severus asked him.
"He was working his way through the pretty girls in Prague the last time I was there. Bloody git had the nerve to brag to me about how many of them he had gotten over the last three weeks." Spike shook his head.
"Last time I saw him he was at Hogwarts for a Christmas party, and had just had a book written about him, and yes, he was eyeballing the older girls," said Hermione.
"He was at that party wasn't he? Slughorn was bragging about getting a real Vampire to come to his party like it was some sort of social trump card. I can't wait to tell him." The smile Severus was wearing had a somewhat evil tinge.
3. "Of course I understand your concern, Snape," Professor Gideon Andrews of the Salem Institute told him, "but Asenath's been auditing courses at our institution for over a year and knows full well how to handle sensitive materials."
"Did she learn that from you, or was it during her time at Miskatonic University?" Severus asked, sniffing to think of that institution's reputation.
"Oh, I know how it is over in Arkham, but I can vouch for Asenath's skill. I wouldn't have had her accompany us otherwise. If you'd just be good enough to relax your materials restrictions—"
"What is it that Mr Masters and Ms Whateley are so anxious to research?"
"The history of certain misunderstood practices, nothing more."
"What 'misunderstood practices'?"
"Severus, is this interrogation truly necessary?" asked Lucius Malfoy, as he Summoned the pot of tea the three men were sharing.
"Oh, that's quite all right," Andrews said, waving his hand. "It's reasonable that the Headmaster should be curious." He turned towards Severus. "Salem doesn't make a habit of allowing its students to delve into the Dark Arts. The fire was a result of, shall we say, an ill-advised bit of hands-on research. Those students were, well, are no longer interested in their old pursuits, and what Asenath and Eddie seek to discover is the history behind other, similar attempts to work such spells. They have no intention of casting them, you understand, but surely you can appreciate their academic interest in—"
"Demons?" Severus interrupted.
Andrews chuckled in the face of Lucius' ire. "No such thing, of course. Eddie would have it, however, that uncontrolled pockets of magical energy can account for 'demonic' possession and other related issues. If he can find treatises to that effect, it would greatly support his thesis."
"And Ms Whateley's interests are similar?"
4. Anya nodded as the home team's striker dribbled her way around the last defender and slotted the ball into the goal. "Go Laguna!" she shouted, earning a glance and a smile from her daughter as the away team's goalkeeper fished the ball out of the back of the net. "Are you a parent?"
Hermione smiled. "Yes, but my sons go to school back in Britain. I'm just visiting Santa Barbara for a day or two. Hermione Krum."
Anya's eyes narrowed slightly, but she shook Hermione's hand. "Anya Giles."
Hermione's brows knotted together. "I thought Giles was her father's name. I was hoping you were Aud Gunthersson. You must be Audrey's stepmother?" she suggested.
Anya dragged Hermione away from the sidelines and out of hearing of any of the other nearby parents. "Where did you get that name?" she demanded.
"Isn't it correct?" Hermione asked. "I was informed that Audrey Giles is the daughter or Rupert Giles of Bath, England, and Aud Gunthersson, née Eriksson, wife of Olaf Gunthersson, of Sjornjost."
"I haven't been Aud Gunthersson for more than a th— For a very long time. Who are you, Ms Krum? Hogwarts?"
Now it was Hermione's turn to look suspicious. "How do you know about Hogwarts?"
"Well, we've already had a visitor from the Salem Institute this afternoon, and you said your sons attended school in Britain, so I took a lucky guess," Anya answered.
"And the person from The Salem Institute mentioned Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.
"As if!" Anya rolled her eyes. "Let's just say that I had cause to visit occasionally as part of my previous employment. Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, Salem. I've visited them all from time to time, though I was always most proud of the work I did at Salem."
"So you're a witch?" Hermione asked.
5. Together, they moved as soundlessly as possible in the direction Hermione had indicated, a direction that led to a small clearing that held an odd blue …
“Police box?” Hermione wrinkled her nose. “What in Merlin’s name …?”
The door opened, and she trained her wand on the man who stepped out.
“Barty?” Severus whispered.
“Hello!” the man said with a grin. “What’s this then? Oh, wands? I haven’t seen wands in ages! Where’d I land this time then? Altoona IV? Thought it was Earth, but the console’s been wonky since …”
“How is this possible?” Severus demanded. “You were Kissed!”
“What? Oh, yes, once or twice. Don’t think that’s anything to do with it. Doesn’t really affect the time rotor, after all.” The man shoved his hands in his pockets.
Sensing the fear beneath her husband’s anger, Hermione came to the only logical conclusion and promptly cast, “Riddikulus!”
“That’s rather rude,” the man said with a frown as the spell simply washed over him, notably without turning him into a carved pumpkin. “For that matter, so is keeping your wands pointed at me like that. We haven’t even been properly introduced.”
“I know who you are,” Severus sneered.
“I rather doubt that.” The man extended his hand. “I’m the Doctor.”
“What, a Muggle?” Hermione asked. “How’d you get here then? And Doctor who?”
“Ah, that just never gets old, does it?” the man replied.
6. “Good afternoon, Doctor. Thank you for making the time to see me.”
“Not at all. Professor. My great-granddaughter may have told you that I’m mostly retired these days, but I do maintain an office here at Oxford. I do the odd bit of consulting and research and I am writing my memoirs, so the college has graciously made it convenient for me.”
“ I am sure” he murmured politely, "that it is no more than your efforts deserve.”
To his utter astonishment, she snorted softly. So much for the social niceties, he thought. He was beginning to like this woman.
She ushered him into a cosy, book lined study; crowded but not untidy. The wan sunlight of early spring streamed over the desk in the corner, where a sleek modern laptop computer and an ancient, very battered manual typewriter rubbed shoulders companionably. A small tea table, flanked by two comfortable armchairs, stood by the window overlooking the quadrangle. She gestured for him to take a seat.
A shadow of pain crossed her face as she watched his long figure fold itself into the armchair, and he leaned forward with unaccustomed concern. This was a member of her family and one who was very important to her, after all.
“Forgive me, Doctor, are you unwell? Is the time inopportune? “
“No, Professor, stay where you are. You had no way of knowing that was my late husband’s favourite chair. My great granddaughter warned me that I might find a... resemblance, and so I do. My God, to see you there, sitting in his chair with your legs crossed and your fingers steepled and your head tilted to one side…”
She blinked and swallowed. “You are very like him Professor, very like him indeed”.
”Then I can only hope Madam, that it will help my cause with you and the rest of your family. Hermione and I are more than aware of how much appearances are against us.”
7. The Death of Rats briefly poked his head out from the hole in the floorboard through which he travelled to his Domain, but before he could escort the young rat to wherever it is that rodents go after their time comes to an end, Severus - without even putting down his teacup - waved his wand just once and the rat was, once again, in the world of the living.
"SQUEAK!" said the Death of Rats.
"I ABSOLUTELY AGREE," said Death.
"And I think you're both delusional if you believe that I have any interest in starting a new career at this stage in my life."
Severus scowled. "Fine. My existence then. In any case, being able to 'put a stopper in death' as it were couldn't possibly be that rare a talent."
"Oh...that rare, is it?"
"YOU MIGHT AS WELL LEARN A NEW TRADE. IT ISN'T AS IF YOU HAVE ANYWHERE ELSE TO GO." said Death. "AND AS FOR YOUR SOULMATE..."
"For the last time," Severus snapped. "I have no soulmate! And even if I did have a soulmate, it's not as if we'd be likely to encounter each other here. Or are you suggesting that Albert is my soulmate? The Death of Rats? Or perhaps Binky? Yes, I'm sure that Binky and I--"
Severus hadn't had the opportunity for a good rant in ages and he had missed it. He suspected that his heart wasn't properly in this particular rant, but he wasn't about to look a gift thestral in the mouth. However, before he'd let fly one fleck of spit or raised his voice a single decibel, a large black raven flew into the kitchen.
"QUOTH," greeted Death. "HAVE YOU A MESSAGE? "
"It's from Susan," quoted Quoth. "She says 'Hello Grandfather. Surprise! I'm coming to visit...and this time, I'm bringing a friend."
8. The wizard kept his face smooth and inexpressive, although he was inwardly jubilant. The situation was very funny. He felt like he was back at Hogwarts, questioning a student caught in the corridors in the middle of the night.
“I suppose those adjustments have become insufficient, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Edward nodded again. His ochre eyes met Severus’s, who suddenly recalled something he had read about the diurnal vampires, as the Ministry called them, whereas the other vampires who, like Slughorn’s friend Sanguini, could only go out at night, were called nocturnal vampires. The article spoke of gifts not unlike magical abilities, like predicting the future or reading thoughts ... Shit! The member of the Cullen family currently seated in front of him was the one who could read thoughts. Severus narrowed his eyes—the only external sign of his internal rage. He grabbed his wand in his pocket. However, the other man did not seem to notice anything and carried on watching Severus with a frustrated expression. The wizard smiled broadly, making him look like the predator.
“I practice Occlumency, you know. Permanently.”
Surprise could be read on the vampire’s face, then understanding.
Silence. The two men gauged each other.
“So, you weren’t born like that. It’s an acquired gift,” the creature mused. “Bella is still unique.” He seemed to like that idea a lot.
But Severus did not care about this Bella. “Let’s go back to the purpose of your visit,” he suggested. “What do you want from me?”
“A potion to reduce the sparkling of our skin,” Edward answered in one breath. If he could, he would probably have blushed. Did vampires have inferiority complexes because of their ‘skin colour’?
9. Snape threw back his cloak with a theatrical gesture. "We are quite capable of resolving this situation," he purred. "Please refrain from getting in the way of the investigation. That will be your chief contribution."
Holmes still had not moved. "Pompous ass," he thought to himself. "I have been called to consult. I shall do so. You may assist me."
Minerva curled her tail around her feet. She regarded the black-ringed tail. I might have to stuff it into my mouth to keep from howling, she thought. There had been nothing for it but to resort to her Animagus form; cats don't laugh.
Not that they noticed her. From the moment Holmes had faced Snape, they stood stock-still; both of them, chins up, glaring down their noses, eyes slitted, arms folded. I can't bear it, she thought, furiously grooming her shoulder to hide her amusement. It's incredible. They're so alike they must be related.
Minerva ran quickly into an alcove, where she regained her human form and laughed until she feared for her knickers. They could go on like this all day! She saw Hermione Granger out of the corner of her eye, and beckoned her over.
"Shh!" she cautioned. "You can't imagine the ridiculous confrontation taking place!" Hermione's eyes sparkled. "Where? I must see them!" She ran up the staircase to the gallery overhead.
Snape's brows beetled. He flung out a long arm; finger pointed somewhere "offstage."
"You, sir, may stay out of my way!"
Holmes' mouth produced a smirk identical to Snape's. "I shall allow you to make every mistake you can, not that it will bring these unfortunate individuals back to life, but that it may teach you something about detection –of which, sir, it is obvious that you lack even the barest rudiments." He rolled the final "r" contemptuously to put Snape in his place.
10. “Sorry about . . .”
“Leaving me to die?”
He waved it off. “All things considered, I should be grateful. My lot is, by and large, better now than it had been at the time. I have no master to dictate my every move, no students to vex me with their incompetence, and while the need for blood is admittedly bothersome at times, there are certain . . . compensations.”
Hermione didn’t argue. “Well then,” she said, folding her hands on her desk, “how can I help you today?”
“It’s my . . .” Snape’s lip curled. “There really is no word for it that doesn’t sound like paperback tripe. The vampire who changed me from what I was into what I am.”
“Your sire?” Hermione asked, recalling with an internal rolling of the eyes the term she had been told most vampires preferred.
In response, Snape’s lip curled more deeply.
“What is the problem with . . . him?”
Snape inclined his head in confirmation of the pronoun. “He is utterly unbearable.”
“Really?” Hermione pulled a quill and parchment toward her, bracing herself for the worst. “How so?”
“He whinges incessantly,” said Snape, examining his fingernails. “He berates himself for his own nature, cursing both himself and the vampire who changed him. He moans for hours about the evilness of his past actions and tells me that if I had any decency in me, I would do the world the favor of killing him. He won’t even feed, so I am forced to procure enough of the both of us or watch him either writhe in agony or scrounge for rodents. It’s becoming very tiresome.”