This week's quiz was chosen by klschmidt1309 — , our resident expert on kinky SSHG games.
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. All comments with answers will be screened until after the answers sheet has been posted. Just comment before the answer sheet goes up at noon on Monday, Eastern Standard 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:
Manchecouerum by ladyofthemasque —
Adoration, or: Should've Been Slytherin by kennahijja —
Unfinished Business by rkamos —
A Potion With An Unintended Notion by karelia —
A Sticky Situation by redorchids —
Give Me Your Hand, Miss Granger by melisande88 —
The Amber Solution by wandlimb —
Getting the Hang of Thursdays by hayseed_42 —
The Fire and the Rose by Abby & Domina
Sometimes the Best Things Come in Small Packages by ancientgirl —
What The Future Holds by Ehann
Scent of a Woman by sunnythirty3 —
1. All students were already seated when Snape swept into the classroom, his cloak billowing viciously. He waved his wand at the board and instructions appeared.
“You will brew Oratio Soluta today. Whilst it is not considered an important potion save for aspiring authors, perhaps, it tends to come up in your NEWT practical because every single step has to be followed precisely for it to work.” He threw a challenging look at Harry and Ron who both squirmed uncomfortably.
“If you fail to follow the instructions as written on the board, you may find yourself sprouting utter nonsense for a day or three,” he continued, and looking at Harry with a raised eyebrow, he sneered, “Yes, Potter, even more nonsense than usual, although I find that difficult to believe possible. Now, start brewing!”
Snape sat down at his desk to grade some papers while covertly watching the dunderheads of the class. The students were working quietly, some efficiently, others less so, but Snape did not expect either Potter or Weasley to suddenly acquire insight in the art of potions. Weasley in particular would have blown himself up on numerous occasions had the Dream Team’s brain, Miss Granger, not stopped him.
“Ron, no!” hissed Hermione when she glanced at him. He was about to add roughly chopped rosemary to his cauldron. “They’re supposed to be ground, not chopped!”
Snape swiftly moved through the classroom towards the disaster Mr Weasley was effecting. Unfortunately, on this occasion, even Hermione Granger was unable to prevent the damage. As she attempted to jerk Ron’s arm away from the cauldron just as their professor arrived there, Ron was already dropping the rosemary. The mess inside the cauldron gave an indignant bubble and then in a most spectacular fashion doused the unfortunate Potions professor and Ron Weasley’s former girlfriend. For reasons beyond his knowledge, Ron had stepped away from the cauldron barely before the potion exploded.
The effect of the misbrewed potion was instantly noticed when Hermione started to yell at her ex-boyfriend.
2. Catching her breath, she swallowed the lump in her throat, and managed to
rasp, "Professor, I-I’m sorry …"
"Silence," he growled. He spun around to cast a disparaging glance on his
seventh year students. "Samples of your potions on my desk. Class dismissed."
Then he turned back to Hermione, his eyes narrowed. "Flask yours up, as well,
Miss Granger. I want to know exactly what you were attempting to brew today.
Your fate has not yet been decided."
Her mouth fell open, as he stared at her in smug satisfaction. Then he swept
back to the front of the room to his desk, his robes swirling behind him. Harry
and Ron had already turned in their samples and Scourgified their cauldrons, and
now cast her sympathetic glances as they fled the classroom.
With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she sighed and collected a
sample of her yellowish potion, wondering what on earth she had concocted by
mixing the ingredients of the Nerve Restorative with the Scintillating Solution.
Her mind wandered over the possibilities, as she packed up her things. What was
the point of brewing a potion that made sparks fly out of your fingertips in an
Advanced Potions class, anyway. That wouldn’t help with her NEWT. Had Snape gone
3. “Shut up, Malfoy,” she shot back. “Since you’re all talk and no brains anyway. Otherwise you’d know that adding more than one Desert Rose Needle would make this Potion strong enough to turn what’s left of your cerebral cortex into oatmeal. There’s a good chance you’ll have to drink this too, you idiot! Don’t screw us both just because you hate me.”
Draco looked at her appraisingly. “All right, Granger.” He withdrew his hand, which had been dangling more than a few Needles over the cauldron. “Since you put it that way…”
Some forty five minutes later, after their cauldron had simmered for the appropriate time, Snape approached them, coming up behind them silently. “Well, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, the time has come to see if you two have indeed learned anything during your tenure here. Or if you are, as I suspect,” he glared down at Hermione, “as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” He drew out a ladle from the deep pockets of his robes and produced a drinking glass. He filled the glass halfway, black eyes narrowed alarmingly. “Miss Granger, yes, you will do nicely, I think, since you are, as everyone knows, simply brilliant.” His voice could have cut diamonds,. “Let us all learn from your example this day.” He held out the glass. “Drink. Then regale us with your experience.”
Hermione hesitated. It wasn’t that she thought she had done anything wrong; it was more the feeling that she felt there was something missing. She racked her brain, trying to remember if she had forgotten any ingredients. Let’s see…she ran through the mental list, until suddenly her brain hit a bump. “Um, Professor?”
“Too late for regrets,” Snape said with a chilling smile. “Drink.”
Knowing there was no hope for it; she tipped her head back and swallowed the contents.
Then the world went black.
4. "I hope, Miss Granger, that you are not feeling any adverse effects from this... accident."
Professor Snape's long-fingered hands were still curled around Hermione's wrist as he examined the quickly receding spread of red on her lower arm, where the boiling valerian infusion had burned her skin.
"No Professor," she assured shyly. "Thank you for the healing charm. And please don't be angry with Neville - it was just a mistake."
Snape's brows drew together above a narrow-eyed glare.
"Dropping powdered Ashwinder eggs instead of ground ash bark into an infusion of valerian is the height of incompetence! Not to mention that Ashwinder products are Class B Trade-Restricted Ingredients... Merlin knows where the boy got it from. And instead of a common Dreamfilled Sleep Concoction to end up with an-"
"- Adoration Potion," Hermione finished.
"Indeed." Snape murmured next to her ear. His breath smelled of cloves, she noticed.
5. I needed a…test subject.” His smirk broadened as Hermione’s eyes narrowed. Apparently he had heard her gaffe after all. “I predict the Head Girl will be feeling the effects of the potion within a minute or two…and then we’ll get to see if she has any feelings for anything other than her textbooks and her study schedule. It should be quite amusing.”
She glared at him, drawing in a breath to blast him verbally. Instead, Hermione blinked as she felt the last of the potion absorb rapidly into her flesh, burning hot now instead of freezing cold. A moment later, the tingling and burning vanished, replaced by a burning line of light that glowed through the sleeves of her shirt and her school robes. A line that curved itself into the dimpled, pointed mark of a heart. Still angry at Draco, she lifted her gaze from her shoulder to glare at his face again…and saw at the edge of her vision two silver objects shimmering into existence an arm length over her head. Two daggers.
Her gaze refocused on a now gaping Draco Malfoy--and the daggers leapt at him. Yelping, the Head Boy flung himself below his desk. The blades thocked solidly into the spines of a couple textbooks on the reference shelves behind his worktable. Hermione winced; she hadn’t meant to harm the books. When she winced, however, the daggers vanished, fading quickly from view. The books were still injured, but the daggers were gone.
A tousled blond head rose cautiously into view. Hermione automatically glared at him again. This time a miniature stormcloud gathered in the air between them, darkening quickly and snapping a miniscule bolt of lightning at the gaping Slytherin. Draco yelped and scuttled behind his desk again, seeking shelter from the conjured storm.
This time it was Hermione who smirked. The cloud slowly dissipated, unlike the daggers, which had vanished quickly from surprise. “You shouldn’t have picked a ‘test subject’ who hates your guts, Malfoy.”
6. Severus looked up from the other side of the room and immediately saw the loudly bubbling potion.
“Get out, all of you, now!” he yelled. Everyone gathered their books and fled. Severus took his wand and approached the boiling cauldron; a responsible Potions master wouldn’t leave until all cauldrons were under control.
As he was about to cast a stability charm on Ron’s cauldron, Hermione ran back into the classroom. She’d realized after she ran out that her wand was still on her desk, and she went back to retrieve it.
“Miss Granger!” Snape yelled, but with his attention diverted by the potion, it was too late for him to fully protect her.
Ron’s unfinished potion blew up and splattered all over both of them, and the cauldron itself flew into the air. Smoke filled the entire room, and the room’s wards automatically sealed the doors to contain the fumes. The classroom was setup with automatic fans, which would filter the fumes and clear the air. After about five minutes, the room was clear.
Severus dazedly began to gather his faculties. He heard someone coughing and remembered that Hermione had entered the room before the cauldron blew up. He’d only had a second to cool the unstable boiling potion so that it didn’t burn them, but judging by the bump on his head, he’d been hit by the flying cauldon.
“Miss Granger?” he called out, his voice sounding small, and his eyes searching the room. He managed to stand, but as he started to walk before he nearly tripped over his robes, which were now very, very long. He looked down at himself, patted his body and realized he was … “oh no,” smaller. Again he heard a coughing, and he looked towards the corner of the room.
There she was: a very confused, very small Hermione Granger.
7. She looked round surreptitiously and couldn't see Snape. "Neville," now it was her turn to whisper furiously, "don't -"
Don't what, Miss Granger?" Her heart sank. He was standing behind her; no wonder she hadn't been able to see him.
"Well, Miss Granger - please, share it with the rest of us. I'm sure it was vital?"
Hermione looked down at the cauldron in front of her, thinking frantically through a list of excuses and reasons but she waited just a little too long.
"P-Professor, it was my -"
"Silence, Longbottom. If I want your contribution I will ask for it."
he next moments stretched past in slow motion; Hermione would have sworn that they filled at least an hour, when she thought about it later. Snape had bellowed at Neville - much as he did in every lesson - and Neville had jumped. He dropped the boomslang skin in panic, scattering it over the flames below the cauldron. The resulting firecracking pops had everyone in the room diving for cover. Neville backed away in horror, bumping against a nearby set of shelves.
The cascade of ingredients to the floor, to the desks and into Neville's cauldron seemed to take forever; Hermione fell backwards against Snape, trying to avoid the gas that bubbled up from the now-adulterated potion. He swept his robes around her, trying to protect them both from the fumes.
Hermione was never entirely clear what happened next; all she knew was that suddenly she was drenched in a ice-cold mixture that burned through her robes and Snape's. The cold seemed to freeze her thoughts and actions for a moment, and her vision blurred.
When she could see again, the classroom seemed oddly distorted, as though she was standing on the desk. All around her was a sea of chaos; whilst the potion hadn't splattered far, the wreckage caused by students taking cover was impressive. She looked down. Then she blinked. When she opened her eyes, she looked down again.
8. “Hermione,” hissed Neville Longbottom, “do these flowers look all right to you?”
“They’re fine,” she whispered back, carefully stirring their cauldron and keeping a weather eye out for the ever-lurking Professor Snape. “They’re exactly like the picture in the book, aren’t they?”
“Well, yes,” Neville admitted, “but they just don’t seem right.”
“Do you really want to ask Professor Snape if you can have some different ones? You heard him tell us how hard it was to get these Knightcap blossoms.”
With a shrug, Neville dropped the dried flower heads into the potion. Within seconds, the bland mess turned a translucent blue. He prodded the thick goo with the ladle, watching the iridescent surface wiggle and hoping that, just once, Severus Snape would find someone else to torture this afternoon. Alas, that was not to be today.
“Well,” sneered a deep baritone voice, making both students jump. “Finished already, are we, Miss Granger? Simply had to show off once again?”
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir,” stammered Hermione. Even now, with their final year half over, Snape continued to make their lives miserable at every opportunity.
“If you are finished, and you’ve done everything properly, which I doubt, then the potion should put you to sleep within a few moments. Which of you will be testing this concoction?”
“I will,” Hermione said firmly, before Snape could terrify Neville any further. She scooped up a bit of the blue mixture, took a deep breath, and at the last moment dragged the lab stool under her before taking a sip of the potion. The last thing she saw was Snape’s black eyes before a dark wave of unconsciousness swept over her.
9. But today was not Longbottom's day any more than it was shaping up to be Severus'. Malfoy's mystery jar fell into Longbottom's probably-correct-up-to-whatever-point-he-w
Severus took a hesitant step forward -- he would deal with Potter and Malfoy later; this was far more important at the moment. "Longbottom," he said in a quiet voice, "step back... carefully..."
Wide-eyed, the tall boy did as he was told, sliding away from the cauldron in a motion that spoke of years of practice at evading disaster.
"Malfoy," Severus began in that same calm voice, watching the contents of the cauldron bubble and turn an odd shade of red, "what was in that jar?"
"What jar, sir?" Malfoy stammered, clearly attempting to save face. "I didn't --"
"Don't be a fool, Malfoy," he snapped. "What was in the jar? Quickly, boy!"
"I, erm..." he began, fumbling around his table. "I'm not..."
The potion burped again and about half of the students in the room -- the sensible ones, Severus rather thought -- jumped. "Everyone, get out of here," he said as quietly as he dared, keeping one eye on Longbottom's rogue cauldron. "As quickly as you can --"
There was a loud rushing noise as the contents of the cauldron exploded.
Several students screamed -- Malfoy among them. Potter and Longbottom both hit the ground, covering their heads with their hands; a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw followed their example.
But the loudest scream came from Hermione Granger. For whatever reason, she apparently had not had the good sense to move from her station as the cauldron foamed -- Severus suspected that she hadn't been paying attention; Granger had an oddly one-track mind once she started working on something, and very little could distract her -- and the majority of the potion now flying through the air hit her in the face.
10. She waited for him to move on, and when he did not, she detected a faint scent of…could it be? Was that aftershave or even cologne? On SNAPE? No…wait…it was something she had smelled before, but where? Whatever it was, it smelled warm and spicy. Like a faintly over-baked ginger biscuit. Moment by moment the smell grew less pleasant, and suddenly Hermione knew where she had smelled it before.
Neville, in his own independent potion studies, was attempting to create what he called the Lestrange Liniment. His goal was a clinging salve akin to Muggle sunblock that was intended to deflect the worst effects of the Cruciatus Curse. All his attempts had failed so far, but Neville would not give up. The most spectacular failure had occurred while he, Ron, Lavender, Hermione, and Harry were brewing practice potions two weeks ago in the Room of Requirement as part of the training for Dumbledore’s Army. Neville’s cauldron had coughed out a sticky, pale powder that had burned everything it touched until it was smothered with sopping wet gillyweed, accidentally applied by Ron who had grabbed it instead of a rag. And with that fire had come the scorched gingersnap smell.
The white powder on Snape’s frock coat.
Instinctively, Hermione snatched up a damp cleaning rag from her lab table. She turned to her professor and was horrified to see a tendril of smoke drifting up from his hip, where the white powder had turned an ominous violet and was quickly charring a hole the size of a house-elf’s ear in Snape’s coat.
Snape was unexpectedly close behind her. The gingersnap smell was almost overpowering. There was an undertone of sandalwood and something sharp like lime, but all of Hermione’s attention was focused on the ashen hole at Snape’s hip. She batted the rag at the hole in a desperate attempt to smother the flame.
“MISS GRANGER!” thundered Snape. “Control yourself!” He stared down at her as she grabbed at the skirt of his coat.
On any normal day, Hermione would have been stricken into horrified immobility by the power of that voice. But today, her sole focus was on extinguishing the creeping flames. “NEVILLE!” she cried. “Neville, your Liniment--you've made that burning powder again!”
“Oh, Merlin, no!” groaned Neville.