This week's quiz was chosen by sexi_conejita. Perhaps it was for the best that Hermione proposed marraige last week!
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Match the quotes to the story titles while avoiding the red herring titles:
Cuckoo in the Nest: The Baby Dialogues by melusin_79
Return to Me by ginny_weasley31
The Incident In The Great Hall by acadia_elle
The Oldest Magic by fizzabella
Hinge of Fate by Ramos
A Matter of Circumstance by ms_figg
The Blameless Vestal’s Lot by mundungus42
Happy Birthday by averygoodun
Accountable by Dyce
Living Legacy by sshg316
And Two Must Love by Drivelicious
Nappies of Courage by Hawklaw
1. "Are you sure, Poppy?" he asked the hovering matron without turning his attention from where Hermione stood with her arms crossed defiantly over her flat and obviously not pregnant stomach.
"Yes, Headmaster, absolutely sure."
"Will you kindly pull Miss Granger's record and bring it here, please." Dumbledore's phrase was polite, but the tone left no doubt it was an order. The older woman made a tsking noise and headed for her office, while at Dumbledore's nod, Hermione sat on the nearby stool.
She squirmed under the Headmaster's piercing gaze, but Hermione's self- righteous irritation refused to abate. "Professor, I don't see how Madame Pomfrey could possibly be correct in this. I know she's a wonderful nurse, but this is... it's impossible!"
"Miss Granger..." Dumbledore reached out and laid a wrinkled, spotted hand atop hers. "This will no doubt be a trying afternoon for you, but I believe you will be strong enough to bear it. First of all," he began, sliding his wand out of his robe's sleeve. "Finite Memonis Anisthetae," he intoned, the sliver of wood in his hand stroked the air over her head decisively.
"Memonis Anisthetae," Hermione echoed dubiously. "What is that?" She sat back on the stool, clenching either side of her seat with her hands as though the chair would tilt her out onto the floor.
"It is similar to an Obliviate, Miss Granger. However, it does not permanently erase the past. It merely sublimates a painful memory until the subject is sufficiently recovered to deal with the trauma."
Her eyes went wide with the word trauma, and the headmaster nodded gravely. "Yes, I'm very much afraid that you have several painful memories currently buried in your subconscious. And they will without a doubt surface, soon or late. Perhaps sooner than would be wise, now that I've removed the Anisthetae charm, but under the current circumstances I think it best you know exactly how you came to be in your current condition."
"Professor Dumbledore, there's absolutely no way I can be pregnant!" Hermione stormed. "And if I am, you'd bloody well better call the Vatican!"
2. "I need to talk to you," she said, twisting her fingers together nervously. "Please. In private. It's... well, it's important."
He raised an eyebrow. "I find it difficult to believe that there could be anything sufficiently important for you to come barging into the school over a week ahead of schedule and demand a private audience with me, of all people," he said icily. "I am in no mood for idle - "
"Professor," Hermione said desperately, "do you remember what you did the night of the Order's victory party? After Hagrid brought out the second cask of brandy?"
He blinked, and his face hardened. "Very well," he said grimly. "You may have five minutes, Miss Granger. I suggest you make them count." He opened the door to his office, propelling her inside with a firm hand between her shoulder blades.
Hermione waited until he'd slammed the door to face him. Oh, this was going badly already. "Professor - "
"I do not particularly care what it is that you think is so important," he snapped, folding his arms and glaring down at her. "And I do not appreciate blackmail, implied or otherwise. No matter what I may or may not have done in an excess of relief - "
"Professor Snape, please, I'm sorry for intruding, and I didn't mean to... to imply that I would blackmail you. The party is what I wanted to talk about."
"Really." That sardonic eyebrow elevated again. "What, precisely, did I do at the party that is of such vital importance?"
Hermione blushed, looking down at her fingers as they knotted together nervously. "Me," she said in a tiny voice. "Er... that is, you and I, uh... I was sure you didn't remember, but..."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him freeze, going so absolutely still that he looked like an ivory statue swathed in black. "Miss Granger, that is not remotely amusing."
"Believe me, I know that," she whispered. "And I'm sorry. But... it happened. I wasn't going to tell you; I thought you'd be happier not remembering, but I'm... uhm... there's an unforeseen long-term consequence..."
The statue did not move.
3. He could feel the storm brewing but knew there was nothing to do, other than prepare himself and wait for it to break. Having grown up with a large family in a small house, Ron Weasley understood what it meant to feel frustrated and crowded, which gave him some insight into how his wife, now forty weeks pregnant, was feeling. This was indeed fortunate, as his moment’s hesitation allowed the slipper his wife shied across the room to smack into the doorjamb instead of his head.
He moved his head turtle-like into the open doorway. “All right, Hermione?”
“No, I’m not all right,” she said, kicking the other slipper furiously across the room. “I’m hot, I’m exhausted, my back hurts, my feet hurt, and I have to give up the only night I have with my family this week so those slimy verucas can rub their wealth and prestige in my face. Never mind that Voldemort LIVED IN THEIR HOUSE for a year!”
“I meant with the costume,” said Ron. “That Expansion Charm you did on the dress worked a treat. You weren’t half as big when you tried it on as you are now.”
“Thanks so much, Ron.” She glared at him and yanked the dress savagely down over her belly. “The problem isn’t the bliaud, it’s the belt. It fit last week, and now I can’t get it to look right.”
Ron glanced at the illuminated manuscript from which she’d created the deceptively simple wool overdress. “It’s supposed to go below the waist.”
She threw up her arms in frustration. “What waist? I haven’t got one now!”
4. So, he cast a quick Disillusionment Charm and remained outside of the door, catching brief snatches of conversation. Most of what he heard were congratulatory remarks mixed with the occasional words of mock-pity from the likes of Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan. He stood silently, uncertain exactly why he was still there. Then, he heard Potter and Weasley talking quietly just on the other side of the wall from where he stood.
“I swear! If I see that greasy old bat anywhere near her, I’ll make him wish he’d never been born,” came the hiss of the Keeper for the Wasps.
“Ron, relax. Hermione’s fine,” reassured Potter.
“Harry she was such a wreck by the time I got there this afternoon. I can’t believe that you and Ginny just let her sit in her room all day long like that! You know she’s not been well. She needs to eat every chance she gets. It’s not good for—”
“Hush, Ron! I thought the point was to keep the pregnancy a secret,” came the harsh whisper of Harry to silence his friend that had been growing louder with each word.
The anger that boiled up in Severus now was nearly uncontrollable. Before he had wanted to curse the redheaded prat for marrying his wife. Now, he wanted nothing more than to place his fingers around that youthful throat and squeeze the last breath out of him.
5. As they neared the end of the school year, Severus noticed Hermione's anxiety level go up. At first he thought it was just her normal preparing-for-exams nerves because she suffered them every year, even though she was now the one writing and grading them rather than taking them. It was one of her many, many quirks.
But not being able to take his eyes off of her, he eventually noticed that she looked uncomfortable. He remembered, with a bit of quick mental arithmetic, that it was getting near her due date. Watching her squirm uncomfortably in her chair, he was overcome with horror that she was now in labor.
Watching her for a few tense seconds longer, he calmed down, as she didn't look physically distressed as much as mentally distressed. He had almost managed to dismiss it again as exam nerves by the time Minerva left the staff room, leaving him and Hermione alone, so he was startled and shocked when she promptly burst into tears.
He had never seen her cry, and certainly not with such abandon, before, so he was momentarily stunned. Thinking about it later, he realized he must have looked like a guppy to Hermione, staring at her with such a befuddled expression on his face. Although he tried, he couldn't come up with another reason why she switched from sobs to laughs so quickly.
When she started laughing, something of the shock wore off, and he moved to Hermione's side. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. It seemed, though, that just moving closer was a signal that he was willing to comfort her, as she rolled herself upright and threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.
He didn't know what to do. A part of him, the grumpy part, cringed at the thought of her wet nose and eyes on his robes. Another part, probably the part that had slept with her for revenge on Potter, was pleased at her distress. It served her right for being so careless, after all. But he was surprised that the largest part of him wrapped his arms around her and started humming soothing noises, as that largest part wanted nothing more than to hold and comfort this witch of his.
Of course, the fact that she wasn't his witch in any sense of the word didn't matter at that moment.
6. "I'm so sorry, Severus." Her voice was barely a whisper, and she looked so genuinely repentant, so sorrowful, that I crossed the room, sat down beside her and drew her into my arms.
"I'm so sorry if I have upset you in some way, my dear." I rubbed my hands over her back as we embraced, and sighed in relief when I felt her snuggle into my arms. She mumbled something into my shoulder, the words indistinct. I only caught " Mediwitch", "St. Mungo's", and "next appointment in a month". How odd.
"My dear? I'm sorry, you're talking into my coat, I didn't hear you. Are you well?"
She gave me a watery, lopsided grin.
"There's nothing that time won't cure, Severus. Eight months worth."
My wife has a condition that will be cured in eight months. How odd that they can make such an accurate prediction. Eight months. EIGHT MONTHS! The significance of the time frame suddenly impressed itself on me, and I pull back from Hermione in disbelief.
A slow nod.
I couldn't help myself. I tightened my arms around her and hugged her for a long moment.
"You're pregnant! Hermione, we talked of this and I am more delighted than I can tell you. But I didn't realize you were thinking it was time, my dear."
"My mother had a hard time conceiving me, Severus, and had several miscarriages after I was born. I didn't know if I would be… able to. And--" Here she dropped her eyes. "I dropped my last bottle of Contraceptus potion, and didn't have time to go to the apothecary."
7. The wizard studied Hermione, his dark eyes dropping to her belly and resting there for a moment before returning to meet her gaze. His expression was cold and disapproving.
"You foolish witch. You're going through with this travesty," he said to her quietly. But his anger seemed to scream at her anyway.
"It's for the best," she said shortly.
"You don't love him," the Potions Master said.
"I care about him and I do love him in my way," Hermione replied, turning away from the wizard.
Snape approached, standing close behind her and towering over the witch.
"Not the way you love me," he stated silkily.
Hermione blinked back tears and drew in a deep breath and turned back to face him.
"No, but at least Ron loves me and he will love this child. Can you say the same?" she asked him.
Snape blinked at her.
"No. No I cannot, Hermione, on either count," he replied honestly, "but that is no reason to marry Ronald Weasley."
"Yes it is. My child will have a name and a father and family that loves him or her," she claimed even as coldness moved through her belly.
8. "Are you two just going to sit there shaking, or are you going to tell me why you called me to this drab room. I am a busy man. I do not have all day," Snape said, using the most bored voice he could muster. In reality, he was curious as to why they would ask him to meet with them. They loathed him as much as he loathed them.
"We wanted to ask you a question," Harry spoke up. At the professor's nod to go ahead, he continued, "I understand that part of the oath that Death Eaters take is a stipulation to protect the children of other Death Eaters. Under this stipulation, no harm can come to the child of a Death Eater at the hand of another or Voldemort himself. Is this correct?"
Snape narrowed his eyes as he looked at Harry. Harry reacted by sitting up straighter, but Hermione turned a little green, looking quite nauseous.
"Yes, that is part of the oath. It expires when the child comes of age. Are you plotting against Draco again?”
”No! Not at all.” Harry ran his hands through his hair unsure of how to continue.
“Why would you ask such a thing?" Severus asked, his curiosity peaked.
"We want you to claim our baby," Hermione whispered. "I'm pregnant with Harry's child, and we need your help to protect it."
Snape had not expecting that. The idea that Potter would cheat on his girlfriend to get Hermione pregnant was a bit hilarious really. Potter was a do-gooder, he wouldn't cheat on Ginny.
"Would you care to explain how that happened?" Snape said, fighting back a smirk.
9. “You’re what?” Severus asked incredulously.
“Pregnant.” Hermione replied flatly. As he continued to stare at her, she added “Knocked up. With child. Bun in the oven. Preggers. Up the spout.”
“I know what you mean, Hermione. I’m just…in shock. I didn’t expect this.”
Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. “Are you angry?” Her teeth worried at her full lower lip as she struggled not to cry.
Severus thought for a minute. Although he loathed every student that he had ever taught, and frequently made babies squall for fun, he had always secretly thought that he would make a good father. A child would fulfill him – perhaps change him entirely. He vaguely wondered whether the Call of the Blood could be inherited, but one look at his lovely wife erased all doubts from his mind. The gentle joys of motherhood could only be good for her. Severus stood and crossed the room to take her in his arms. “I couldn’t be happier, Hermione.”
As he held his young wife, he noticed that her breasts were pressed into his chest. He felt the coil of lust began to build in his stomach. Sex with a pregnant woman…not evil exactly, but certainly a bit naughty. The Call raced through him, demanding to be answered. “Hermione,” he began slowly. “Let me show you how happy I am about this. Perhaps we should take this to the bedroom.”
She pulled back from the embrace, and stared lovingly into his eyes. He leaned forward to capture her soft lips with his. Just as she began to rise up on her toes to meet his kiss a strange look came over her face. As he put his hand to her cheek, she deposited her lunch all over his shoes.
10. Mercifully, the nausea seemed to have passed for the moment, so she cut a couple of rounds of bread, smeared on a generous helping of peanut butter and mashed a banana on top. She took a hungry bite out of the sandwich...
‘Ye gods, woman. What in the seven circles of hell are you eating?’
... and promptly spat it out again.
‘What? Who-who’s there? Show yourself!’ Spinning around, Hermione drew her wand and glanced nervously around the kitchen, half expecting to see a ghost.
‘And I thought you were supposed to be bright.’
No, Hermione thought, this isn’t real. It can’t be. I’m hallucinating. Yes, that’s it. I know I shouldn’t have eaten that rye bread – it must have had some ergot in it.
‘You are not hallucinating.’
‘Please don’t tell me I’m possessed.’
‘Then... Wh-what are you doing in my head?’
‘Think... lower, Miss Granger.’
Hermione’s hand moved protectively over her belly. ‘No. No, it’s not possible.’
‘Oh, but I’m afraid it is.’
Hermione pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table, feeling dizzy and nauseous again.