Starting on Sunday, December 5, there will be a huge party going on at celebrate_sshg. However, being the squeeing little SSHG fangirls we are here at the quiz, we just couldn't wait! So here's a little Anniversary Quiz to get you in the proper mood for Sunday's festivities.
You have a little extra time this week as the answer sheet will go up on Tuesday. Oh, and did I mention there's a PRIZE?!?!
Welcome to another Special Edition Quiz! What makes it a Special Edition, you ask? Well, there's a prize made of SSHG goodness waiting for the fangirl who wins this quiz! To play, simply comment to this post with your answers. All comments containing answers will be kept screened until the answer sheet is posted around Noon on Tuesday, Eastern Standard time. Then the names of all the fangirls with the correct answers will be entered in a drawing and the Magical Hufflepuff Mug will pick the winner! If you'd like a chance at the prize, simply play at any time over the weekend prior to the answers post on Tuesday. Good luck, my little quizzlings!
Match the quote to the story title:
The Anniversary by shiv5468
Loving Bonds by veradee
Confidential Assignment by devsgma
22 October by acadia_elle
The Clock Chimed Again - Are You Talking To Me? by pearle9240
A Memoir by kizzy7
To Claim The Maiden’s Kiss by neelix
The Perfect Day by Severusgirlx
Dance by keladry_lupin
Expectations by scatteredlogic (SS/HG/LM)
Till Death Do Us Part by ayerf
Fast Food Sev by KingPhilipsWench aka rickmanraves
1. The hand moved to, “A clock is just a clock, and a toaster is just a toaster until it starts giving you the stock reports.”
Severus groaned. Wonderful, now all the appliances will be giving him advice. He could not wait to hear what his razor said! On second thought, he might never go in the loo again. Should he warn Hermione?
“So,……um… Oh hell this is absolutely ridiculous.”
The hand with Hermione's picture moved to, “Frederick's of Hogsmeade. Va va va voom!”
The hand with his picture moved to, “Better buy something nice. Soon.”
“May I remind you that is my wife you are talking about?” Severus realized he was arguing with a clock. He must be more tired than he thought.
“Fine, whatever.” He snapped at the clock. “Actually, you were bang on last time. Jewelry? What kind?” He really could not believe he was asking the clock. What was worse, was he was waiting for the clock to answer.
The clock chimed, the hand with Hermione's picture moved to, “The Leaky Cauldron.”
The hand with his picture moved to, “Diamonds are always nice.”
“Diamonds,” Severus snorted as he drank his brandy. “I suppose you get a commission too?”
The hand moved to, “Only from the florist.”
2. “The necklace suits you.”
Hermione looked up from her plate, startled, at Severus’s words. They rarely spoke anymore, exchanging rare chilly civilities in passing, not even caring enough to argue. She fingered the delicate thread of silver at her collarbone.
Her lips quirked into a smirk. “Thank you.” ‘I bet you thought it would suit me even better in death.’ “Bill Weasley thought so too.”
Severus raised his glass in a silent ‘touché’, his eyebrows following suit. “I was under the impression that you were not on good terms with the Weasley clan.”
“I’m not, but Bill is always interested in pitting his wits against cursed objects, no matter who owns the object in question.”
He grunted, and moved the glass towards his lips. Hermione did her utmost to control her breathing, avoiding looking too closely at him, yet unable to look away.
Just before the wineglass touched his parted lips, he paused. “I almost forgot. A toast: to our nineteenth anniversary.”
She picked up her own glass, almost taking a sip from it when the lack of movement from Severus drew her attention to him. He was waiting for her to drink first, not a suspicious act in itself … But there was something in the way he was looking at her that made the skin prickle on the back of her neck. His gaze seemed impassive on first glance, but in the dark depths of his eyes was a keen interest in her actions. A malevolent interest; he looked much like Crookshanks had when playing with an unfortunate mouse.
3. Fifteen years into our marriage, and she found her first grey hair. She pulled it out and Incendio’d it right there in the bathroom, but she didn’t mention it until three days later when, bottom lip trembling, she said, “I’m getting old.”
I said, “And you’re fucking gorgeous, Granger, you foolish twit.”
She laughed and kissed me and never again mentioned the greying of her hair.
On our fiftieth wedding anniversary, I remember she was worried that no one would show up—after all, we had no children, no grandchildren. Who would care, really? Oh, paper, you should have seen her face when I walked her into that candle-lit ballroom, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Silly woman, she should have realised that the Weasley brood alone would account for one hundred redheaded dunderheads, at the very least.
It was that night—and she was wearing a thin, silvery dress and her hair was piled in ringlets atop her head—that I told her what I am now going to relay to you.
I told her that I never imagined that I would be one of the lucky ones, those lucky few who get to spend their life with a partner so well-suited that happiness exudes from every aspect of life. So, yes, I guess all those sycophants were right. I was and still am blessed with her.
4. It was Hermione’s Wedding Anniversary.
She was celebrating it in the traditional manner, tucked up in a warm blanket on the top of the Astronomy Tower, with two glasses of Firewhiskey. One glass for her, and one for Severus.
She raised a glass in a salute to him, and took a sip. She was grateful for the warmth it generated; it was decidedly chilly up here. She had to admit that the new Mediwitch, whatever her name was, had been right that it was too cold up here for an old woman.
Perhaps they should have been more sensible and married in March and not November, or Severus could have chosen a warmer place in which to propose than the Astronomy Tower, but they’d been young and impatient and hadn’t thought ahead.
Whatever-her-name-was had insisted on giving her a medical examination, with the result that she’d been stripped to her underwear, stuffed into a draughty gown and forced into an uncomfortable bed in the Infirmary. She’d pursed her lips and sighed heavily throughout the whole undignified process, and then tried putting her foot down and forbidding Hermione from coming up here. Hermione was old; Hermione was ill; Hermione shouldn’t take the risk.
She wished Severus had been there to see the look of shock on the old trout’s face when she had simply said, “Bollocks. Severus will be expecting me, and I won’t be letting him down.”
5. A doorman nodded politely to Hermione and held open the door to The Toad and Tortoise. She paused just inside, as she always did, to take in the changes. Transformed into a five-star wizarding restaurant by a staff of experts and more money than Lucius cared to admit, the name was the only thing left of the old pub. During the renovations, Lucius had proposed various names, each one more outrageous than the next. Even Severus had suggested a few, but Hermione had frowned at each one until they'd finally given up, and The Toad and Tortoise it had remained.
Fulbert, the headwaiter, hurried over to greet her. "Madam Granger, it's lovely to see you again. Everything has been prepared, just as you requested, and Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Snape haven't arrived yet."
"Good. I want it to be a surprise," she said.
"Madam Granger..." He discreetly wrung his hands, clearly torn between doing what she wanted, and being terribly confused that she wanted it at all. "Are you quite certain about the arrangements? Surely you realise your usual table is in a better location? The best location, in fact." His voice lowered to a scandalised whisper. "There's not even a cloth on that other table."
Hermione stifled a grin. "Yes, I know."
He sighed and all but threw up his hands in disgust. He led her past tables draped in crisp white linens and accented with tasteful flower arrangements. In the corner by the Ladies', two glasses of whisky and one red currant rum were waiting on the bare wood of a battered table.
"This is perfect," she said, nodding.
Fulbert visibly winced as he looked at the table, but forced a smile and held out her chair.
Hermione sipped the rum as she waited. She was being sentimental, but this was their anniversary, and she wanted things to be just as it was on the night it all began.
6. "The owner of the shop is an acquaintance of mine who agreed to try and produce a crimson rose with the scent of lilacs. She has at long last achieved success," Albus said, beaming with satisfaction.
"I know I will regret asking, but what would possess you to request such a rose?"
"Minerva always said she loved the appearance of the rose, but her favorite scent is the lilac."
"For Merlin's sake, just plant one and be done with it."
"I fully intend to. However, it wouldn't bloom in time for tomorrow night."
Severus' head came to rest upon the back of the chair. Bugger, I'm doomed.
"I am truly honored you remembered."
"Blissful ignorance is difficult to maintain when house elves talk of nothing else but the blasted ceremony. Those elves may cease to exist if your anniversary celebration is used as an excuse to avoid doing one more thing. Meals have become an unbearable serenade of middle-aged squeals from the majority of my esteemed colleges. They mistakenly assume waxing lyrically over fabrics and color combinations is an aid to digestion. Sadly enough, this makes me yearn for the students, since their infernal chattering would easily prevail. At the very least, a measure of satisfaction could be obtained from taking a few House points."
"Patience, Severus. Fiftieth anniversaries are special. The roses are merely an added bonus. They will make a beautiful bouquet for Minerva during the renewal of our vows."
Albus chuckled and said, "Someday you may learn the value of sentiment.
7. With a content sigh, Hermione licked the last bit of sticky toffee pudding off her spoon.
Snape had outdone himself preparing their dinner for their second anniversary as lovers. Pousse spinach with avocado, followed by chicken breast with creamed spinach and wild mushrooms, and, at last, the sinful dessert. She suspected that he had peeked at some restaurant's menu for inspiration, but the end results certainly justified the means.
They were sitting in his living-room. Only a few candles and the dancing flames in the fireplace threw light on the table, which he had decorated with leaves of globe amaranths.
From across the table, Hermione smiled at him as she placed her spoon on her empty plate.
The smile he gave her in return was tiny, but his eyes were gleaming and full of promise. She felt her pulse accelerate as she imagined what other delights he might have planned for the evening.
8. Though the last eleven years had been immeasurably better than the first forty-four, Fate still decided to play with Severus Snape from time to time. The room reservation he’d made at a bed and breakfast half a world away was now being used by Ronald and Susan, who had jumped at the opportunity for a long weekend away from their wild brood. If the Snapes couldn’t use their holiday, Hermione had reasoned, someone ought to have the opportunity.
He and his lovely bride, on the other hand, spent the weekend of their anniversary--and the preceding week--in their Norfolk home. Hermione had spent the last several days confined to the bedroom, study, and bathroom, swathed in blankets and miserably trying not to scratch her abused skin, while Severus spent it seeing to her needs.
At least he could stay, having contracted the disease himself when he was nine. He’d much rather be miserable with her--and have her be miserable with him--than leave her to the care of another. The extra-strength calamine potion he applied three times a day kept her sores from itching, but the magical world had no significant advantage over the Muggle world, when it came to the chicken pox.
Severus leaned forward in his chair for the fifth time that hour, peering at the lump on their bed.
9. Hermione smiled as she gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and kissed his cheek softly. She could feel his tears as they dripped down her neck, and she moved his face to hers, kissing his cheeks dry. He smiled at her, then started to laugh, his head thrown back as his eyes danced with joy.
‘Happy Anniversary,’ she said, a slight giggle leaving her throat.
‘And to you, Mrs Snape,’ he laughed again. ‘I didn’t think I would make it, you know.’
‘I’m so happy that you did,’ she sighed and ran her hands along his back, lingering as her fingers stroked his buttocks.
‘I have a gift for you,’ he said quietly, watching her through a curtain of black hair. He waved his hand and a copy of the Daily Prophet flew from the pocket of his cloak and into his hand. Reluctantly, he rolled off her, and then pulled her into a sitting position. He handed her the paper gravely, then put his arm around her and pulled her close as she looked at him quizzically.
‘Page two,’ he murmured.
Hermione flipped the paper open and her eyes scanned the columns. With a sharp intake of breath, she read the small announcement, and tears started to fall silently down her face.
‘Oh, Severus,’ she whispered, ‘are you sure?’
10. He’d spent the last five years making that impromptu wedding up to her. He knew that witches generally wanted lavish ceremonies with all of their friends and family in attendance when they got married. The elopement was much more to his liking, and to compensate her for this lack of ceremony, every year on their anniversary he went all out on a two-week resort package and invited all of her friends and family (including the Potters) to come with them if she wished it. They’d gone to Hawaii, Majorca, Montecarlo, and the French Riviera. This year was different, however. Hermione had informed him at the end of last year’s trip to the French Riviera that she wanted this anniversary trip to be whatever he desired, and it could be just the two of them if he wished.
Hermione knew how much the Potters and Weasleys grated on him and knew how much he must love her if he invited the whole lot of them on their anniversary trips. He was a good husband, he was a war hero; he deserved to have a pretty young wife who adored him and shagged him senseless. Hermione, for her part, was utterly mad about Severus. She knew he’d felt guilty about the Las Vegas thing, but she’d never really regretted any of that. This past year, after a spectacular holiday on the French Riviera, she’d made him promise that this coming year they would do something that he wanted to do. She simply hadn’t counted on what he’d actually selected.
Hermione had gone through the list of possibilities for their holiday, and nothing had prepared her for what had come out of Severus's mouth. She had thought maybe the Quidditch World Cup, or even the Muggle Football World Cup. Potions ingredients scavenger hunt? Muggle Olympics? The Running of the Bulls? She’d even thought he’d be interested in checking out something called NASCAR that her father went on about from time to time. Or a trip back to Vegas; she knew he’d been fascinated with Vegas ever since they’d been married there. So when he said, “I want to sample all of the different fast food hamburgers in the United States,” she was certain she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“I'm sorry, you want to what?” she’d asked, incredulous.
Remember to join the festivities at celebrate_sshg on Sunday, December 5th!