It's that time of year again! Christmas Eve is upon us. Decorations are everywhere. Cards have been sent. Presents have been purchased and wrapped. Cookies have been baked. Christmas dinner is all planned out. One lucky fangirl can win an SSHG Christmas Prezzie of her very own! It's time for Severus and Hermione to make some Christmas memories. Let the celebrations begin!
Welcome to our Special Occasion Quiz! What makes it a Special Occasion, you ask?
Well, there's a Christmas prezzie 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 at noon EST on Monday, 12/27. 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 prezzie, simply play at any time over the weekend prior to the answers post on Monday. Good luck, my little quizzlings and Merry Christmas!
Match the quote to the story title:
A Christmas to Remember by leakywitch
Snape’s Christmas Angel by debjunk
A Christmas Carol Hogwarts Style by savine_snape
Thirteen's a Charm by sshg316
A snape is for life, not just for Christmas by shiv5468
The Christmas Rose by subversa
With Love, Your Little Princess Girl by snitchette
The First Faint Glimmer by Ladymage Samiko aka iqeret
On a Night Like This by dreamy_dragon73 (SS/HG/LM)
Silk Stockings by firefly124
Tidings of Comfort and Joy by stormyskize
Predictive Text by astopperindeath
1. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” Hermione said quietly.
Severus turned and gave her a caustic look. “And just what am I doing, Hermione?”
“You’re going to jump. That’s obvious, but you don’t need to.”
“What do you suppose I should do then?”
“You should see your worth, Severus Snape, not wallow in the disappointments of life.”
Severus sighed and looked down. “Hermione, I don’t have time for this. If you’ll excuse me, I have a date with the ground.”
“Severus, you need to realize just how important you are.”
Severus rolled his eyes. “Yes, without me there would be so many more people alive. The world would be a happy place and hundreds of students would not cower in fear when I walk down the halls.”
“Severus, you’re a good man.”
“I’m an abomination.”
“You should recognize all of the good you have done!” the angel Hermione cried.
“It would have been better if I had never been born!” Severus shouted at her. “Don’t you understand? My life has brought nothing but pain and misery to everyone and everything I touch. It’s time I ended it and gave everyone the chance to live a decent life without my influence in it.”
Hermione clapped her hands together in joy. She grabbed Severus’ shoulders and pulled him back off the rail. She began to dance and hop around with him. “That’s it!” she exclaimed. “That’s how I can get through to you!” She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Severus. That’s a wonderful idea. From this moment on, you were never born. You don’t exist!”
2. Mistress had given permission for them to dress the whole house for Christmas, and Quirk had begun to hang tinsel while Holly went outdoors. She was gone for a long time, but when she came back she had the pine boughs and sprigs of holly, as well as the mistletoe. Quirk had ignored the mistletoe for as long as he could, engaging Holly’s assistance with the red velvet bow distribution, and the arrangement of the pine boughs on the mantelshelf and over the front doorway. They had giggled, and sung, “Deck the halls with boughs of holly,” until their voices were tired, while they found places to put the sprigs of holly with the pretty red berries on it.
Finally, Holly had cornered him.
“Where is we hanging the mistletoe?” she asked him.
Quirk looked at his feet and muttered an answer.
“What is you saying?”
“In the cellar,” he said more loudly.
Holly cocked her head to one side with a little frown on her face and Quirk noticed again how pretty her big brown eyes were and the cute way she scrunched up her mouth when she was thinking hard about something.
“Who is being in the cellar to kiss under the mistletoe?” she asked.
“Nobody,” Quirk answered emphatically.
Holly opened her big brown eyes even bigger. “Then we isn’t hanging it there – that is just silly talk, Quirk!”
“Mistletoe is being silly!” he snapped back at her, stomping into the kitchen.
Holly had stood in the hallway and watched him for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders and resuming her activities with the red velvet bows and the sprigs of her namesake.
Quirk had skulked and sulked in the kitchen for a while, until Holly’s serene singing to herself of “The Holly and the Ivy,” had drawn him curiously into the hallway. When he peeked around the banister, Holly had pounced upon him. He had just glimpsed the mistletoe, charmed to float above their heads, before she had rocked his world by pressing her girl-lips to his astonished mouth.
Quirk’s toes had curled in elven delight.
So had Holly’s.
It startled them enough that they didn’t do that again for a while.
3. Ron and Harry, full of plans for the holidays, were busy chattering to each other and effectively ignoring her. Hermione stared out the window, bored with the ideas that had already been covered several dozen times. If not more.
"So, what are you going to do, Mione?" Ron asked, startling her. "I mean, we know you have to go home and it's too bad, really, but is your family doing anything?"
"Um..." The girl had managed to avoid this conversation so far, but it seemed that her luck had run out. "Well, we're having a guest over for the hols."
Ron may have had the sensitivity of a brick, but Harry caught her hesitation. "All right, Mione," he grinned, "'fess up. Who is it? Lockhart? Umbridge? Krum?"
"Er..." She could feel herself turning red, one of the few reactions she couldn't control. In return, Harry needled her some more. "Well," she confessed, "actually, it's Professor Snape."
There was complete silence in the compartment.
Then an explosion. "Hermione, are you mad?!" Both young men stared at her incredulously.
"No, I am not mad." Though, at the moment--even though she had expected this reaction--she felt rather annoyed.
"But, Mione!" Ron agonized. "You're taking him--Snape!--home with you! Over Christmas! Snape, the Bat Bastard!"
Harry watched her carefully. "There's no way you're doing this voluntarily, unless..." He paused a moment, thinking. "I can't see why," he mumbled, "but think, Hermione. Did Snape, at any time, get close enough to slip something into your drink?"
"Or maybe your cauldron during class!" Ron chimed in. "Come on, Mione! Think!"
"Don't be absurd," she snapped. "Of all people, why would Professor Snape potion me into taking him home? If there is such a potion, which I sincerely doubt. And no--before you mention it--he did not put me under Imperius, either. Honestly, you two! As it so happens, I found out that he doesn't have anyplace to spend Christmas; you both know Hogwarts is closed this year."
"Yeah, we know." Harry looked uncomfortable.
Hermione pressed her advantage. "You know what it's like to have a miserable Christmas, Harry," she continued gently. "I'm just trying to help. No one should be forced to spend a bleak, miserable Christmas alone."
4. Hermione paused in her perusal of different holiday spices to check her beeping mobile. One new text message.
“Am considering a nice fuck instead of the normal fare. Thoughts?”
Hermione gasped loud enough to alert a nearby shop-boy. Apologizing for her display, she took several deep breaths, trying to make sense of the text.
Well, we have been flirting more recently. Then again, we really are the only two single professors under the age of fifty-five in the castle. Do I really want to change everything? A relationship with someone like Severus could never be remotely casual.
She began typing…
5. Three and a half hours, six stores, and several Galleons later, the last of Hermione’s purchases was finally shrunk and placed in the inner pocket of Severus’ cloak. What had purportedly been “just a few last presents for Christmas” had in reality been what seemed to Severus to be her entire shopping list. He sneaked a glance at his pocket watch; they had just under half an hour to get back to the castle and to his rooms before the house-elves would begin serving their meal. He released a relieved breath—there was plenty of time.
They began the walk back to the castle, and soon, Hermione’s mitten-enclosed hand was wrapped around his fingers. He scowled at the thick yarn that kept him from feeling his beloved’s skin. Oblivious to his withering glare, Hermione chatted happily as they walked, and Severus allowed himself to relax, to bask in warmth she seemed to naturally exude.
They were almost to the castle gates when Hermione stopped. A mischievous twinkle appeared in her eyes, and she crouched down, low to the ground, as if she had dropped something. Severus’ eyes narrowed. What was the witch up to now? They had to be in his chambers in precisely ten minutes or yet another attempt would be ruined—after all, he couldn’t ask her to marry him over cold Coq au Vin.
Suddenly, she reared up, pulled back her arm, and pelted him with a snowball.
She laughed as he brushed the powder from his robes. “Hermione, it is cold. Let us return to the castle.”
“Oh, come now,” Hermione teased, grinning widely. “I just want to play for a bit.”
And with that she lay on the snow-covered ground—Merlin’s beard, he had to be some sort of deviant to find this even remotely sexual in nature—and made a snow angel.
Severus scowled as he watched her frolic. The twit was ruining everything with her spontaneous decision to throw herself into the snow. Although, he grudgingly supposed her pink cheeks and sparkling eyes were rather fetching.
“Come on, Severus!” Hermione called, waving a mittened hand. “Come play with me!”
6. Miss … Hermione seemed to think it discreet to suggest he join her in the library, as though anyone would believe she actually wished to show him some obscure tome. He smirked, not caring at all if Potter or any of his Ministry cronies speculated as to what they might actually be up to, even if things did not go as he suspected they might.
She made rather a production of locating a specific book. For some reason, she could not seem to remember whether it was on a high or low bookshelf or, indeed, on which side of the room. When she finally located the text, roughly in the same area she had first begun looking, she brought it to him, a glint in her eye.
“Would you be so kind, Professor, as to read the paragraph at the top of page two hundred and sixty-five?”
Raising an eyebrow, he opened Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms and scanned the paragraph in question.
“Aloud, please, sir?”
Intrigued, he complied.
“The Etruscans, then, integrated the two systems of writing into a single, more powerful collection of symbols. The Etruscan Syllabary thus became the foundation for several runic systems throughout the Western wizarding world, and the wizard or witch who desires to learn to utilize any of these systems effectively would do well to begin their studies …” He noticed that she did not appear to be attending the actual words. “… with a cursory review of the care and feeding of Hippogriffs, particularly with regard to proper handling of fecal matter.”
At this last, her eyes narrowed, though one corner of her lips twitched.
“And is there anything else you wish to hear?”
Her lips formed a mischievous smile. “Just you casting a Silencing Spell as I’ve already locked the door.”
7. “Miss Granger,” he said coldly.
“Now, now Severus, no backtracking.”
“Hermione,” he conceded with a faint, chilly smile. She had wrung the concession of first name terms out of him during a weak moment the last time they met. He had been very grateful when she had headed off a particularly enthusiastic fan with the face and disposition of a bull dog. He rather suspected Piss Pot Potter and his Pint Sized Pal of being behind that one.
At least … Hermione kept up date with all the latest gossip. She was entertaining him with a description of the latest exploits of Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, involving an attempted threesome with Harry Potter – really the boy ought to have more taste – but ending up with Ron instead. Pansy hadn’t taken the news well and had made a dash for it screaming something about ginger pubes.
He sighed, and before he could censor himself he heard himself say, “Sometimes I really miss Lucius.”
There was a horrible moment when he had visions of being stripped of his Order of Merlin (First Class) and dragged off to Azkaban. Of all the people to admit to feeling sentimental about his Deatheater days, Miss Granger was the one least likely to be sympathetic.
He was just reaching for his wand to cast a quick Obliviate, when the rather surprising admission came from beside him, “I know what you mean.” Seeing his look of shock, she continued, “Not about Lucius obviously, the man was a monster. It’s just occasionally I feel the urge to pick an argument with Draco. For old time’s sake. He’s an arrogant, obnoxious little shit with the personality of a crocodile and the charm and wit of a hyena, but he’s reliable and predictable. He never lets you down.”
Snape’s eyes flicked to Harry and Ron. He hadn’t seen them together as much, it’s true. A certain coldness appeared to have crept into their friendship during the course of the last year. He thought it best to let the matter drop. He didn’t want a snivelling Gryffindor on his hands. He was bound to get the blame, for one thing.
“Lucius was a complete and utter bastard,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong. But he was good value at dinner parties. Very amusing.”
8. Lunch was enjoyed by all and the elf made wine flowed freely throughout the afternoon. When evening arrived, and the children had gone to bed, Draco smiled mischievously at his guests. With a lazy flick of his wand a sprig of mistletoe appeared over the heads of his godfather and Hermione.
"Severus, Hermione you seem to be blessed," Draco grinned as he pointed above their heads.
"Draco!" Hermione shouted.
"Come on, Granger it's just a bit of fun." Draco teased.
Severus frowned at his godson, and then remembered what Lily had told him. Lily had suggested that there maybe love waiting for him somewhere, he then remembered how Hermione had held her head in her hands when the Baron had showed him how his death would affect the people around him.
"Hermione, may I call you Hermione?" Severus asked.
"Of course, Headmaster."
"If I am to call you Hermione, then it is only fair that you should call me Severus."
Severus lips quirked into a small smile, he looked from Hermione to the mistletoe, all the time Lily's advice was playing through his mind. Hermione looked at Severus and returned his smile. Severus leaned in towards Hermione and whispered in her ear.
"Hermione, would you be offended if I were to kiss you?"
Hermione was lost for words. All she could do was shake her head. Severus glared in the direction of his godson before placing a chaste kiss on Hermione's lips.
"That's not good enough, Severus. You need to give her a proper kiss. You don't mind do you, Granger?"
9. When I was five, Daddy, on Mum’s insistence and to my greatest pleasure, agreed to put on a Santa’s costume. There was some silly tradition instated by Headmistress McGonagall after the end of the Second War. Every year, a professor must play Santa, as it was a figure of both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. Mum was having a hard time convincing him, but as soon as I overheard one of their conversations on the subject (or argument if you prefer), I jumped on his knees and begged him to “Please do Santa, Daddykins."
Even at that age, I knew there was not a thing he could refuse me when I was smiling like I did. So he just sighed and surrendered. Can you imagine it? With the long, white beard and the red robes. He even charmed a sleigh with reindeers to land in front of the Great Hall. I can still clearly remember the picture. He looked a bit embarrassed at first in front of all those people, delivering gifts in Santa’s outfit. Some were close family, and that was okay with him. Others were friends, and he could deal with that too. But the worst of all were the students. He couldn’t bear being laughed at by anyone. Except by me, maybe.
I was beaming while holding his hand the entire evening, and every time I looked at my Daddy, it was with unwavering admiration and love. When we locked eyes and he smiled at me, I knew he forgot where he was and what he was doing and his internal fear of being mocked by those dunderheads. What he never knew was that I had stuck in a corner my oldest brother, Steven, who was currently in his third year at Hogwarts, and I had made him swear he would hex anyone who would dare so much as snicker at my daddy behind his back. I know he did because I can be very scary when I truly want to and where my Daddy is concerned of course.
10. Two days left, she told herself. I can do this.
A quick Floo call to Madam Boris' Mementos and Collectibles had revealed that the custom-made gift she had ordered for Severus had not yet arrived, but Madam Boris' assistant had assured Hermione that the gift was ready, on its way from the crafters in Egypt and should arrive at any moment, "...well in time for Christmas." Hermione had felt the urge to remind the obnoxiously cheerful woman that Christmas was only two days away, but had decided it wasn't worth the trouble, so long as she got Severus' gift in time to give it to him Christmas morning. She had been about to Floo call Mr Arbour at the Enchanted Christmas Trees Emporium, when the ambers in the fire-place crackled, and the face of Minister Shacklebolt materialized in the low flames.
At first, Hermione couldn't believe her ears.
"A what?" she asked.
"Like I said. An infestation at the Creevey's Home for War Orphans—Blibbering Humdingers."
"That's impossible—Blibbering Humdingers don't exist!" Hermione practically screeched.