Warm weather is right around the corner! That means trips to Fairs, Festivals, Carnivals and Amusement Parks are not far behind. We here at the SSHG Quiz need a little sneak peek at Spring so we have gathered all sorts of warm weather fun for our SSHG fangirls. Join us as Severus and Hermione go outside to play!
Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EDT. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Ready? Set? Play!
Match the quotes to the story titles without falling for the red herring titles:
Candyfloss Days by juno_magic
Amusement Park by Melenka (SS/HG/LM)
Alumni Festival by Aedammair
Dark Santiago by lariopefic
Hermione's Cinderella Adventure (Or a Facsimile of One) by blackeyedlily
Storm Track by ariadne1
Satisfaction by fandomme
What the Future Holds for One, It Holds for Another by rae_7910819
Whom the Goddess Chooses by Aurette
Scarborough Arithmancy by lillithj
Where Dreams Come True by ks51689
Heart Over Mind by regann
1. “I’ve told you my story,” she says. “Now you tell me yours.”
“I have told you a great deal already. What is it that you wish to know?”
“You haven’t told me why you’re here. If you aren’t hiding, and you haven’t given up magic, why do you live here? Why not join a wizarding community?”
They stop in front of the Ferris wheel, an ancient-looking contraption of painted steel. Snape throws away the remains of his cone, and Hermione follows suit. She looks at the hulking wheel beyond the gate.
People stroll past them. The park is not crowded; there are mostly teenagers here, locals, Hermione would guess by the look of them, playing the arcade games. There are a few couples that may be on vacation, but the entire park has the feel of something very close to extinction. The gates are rusted, and rubbish blows by on the ground.
Snape takes a few steps toward the wheel, but Hermione touches him lightly on the arm.
“Yes?” he says.
“I—I’m afraid of heights.”
He looks at her condescendingly for a moment and then his expression clears. “If you want to know the answer to your question, you will have to ride,” he says.
She looks at him measuringly. He is serious, she sees. She will have to do this.
But then he leans toward her and whispers, “I have a wand, Hermione. If something were to happen, I could Apparate us out in seconds.”
2. The remainder of the morning was spent on rides in Fantasyland. This was the oldest part of the park and contained rides familiar to most guests. They rode the spinning Tea Cups twice, went on Peter Pan’s Adventures, took Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, and to the horror of all but Molly, rode It’s A Small World. When they decided to move on to Tomorrowland, Hermione had an idea.
“You lot carry on. I’m going over to Cinderella’s castle. There’s a shop there that carries a line of crystal my mum collects. I’ll meet you all in two hours. How about at that pub in Liberty Square? We can have lunch, and then head over to the Haunted Mansion.”
“Okay ‘Mione,” replied Harry. “Just keep an eye out for Prince Charming at the castle.” Hermione waved in reply and headed off.
As she traversed the park, Hermione found she was truly enjoying herself. The park was beautiful, and it was fun to watch all the wide-eyed children amazed at their surroundings. Crossing the moat, she entered the castle. The walkway that crossed the ground floor was surrounded by beautiful murals from the fairy tale, made up of intricate tiles. As Hermione stood admiring the murals, a door opened from the passage that led to a restaurant at the top of the castle, and out stalked Severus Snape, in all his glory.
Hermione stood transfigured to the spot as Professor Snape exited the doorway, surrounded by six members of the Disney staff, judging by their uniforms. Two staff members were scribbling furiously on clipboards, while the group’s leader was speaking to Snape in an imploring fashion. It was obvious to Hermione that Snape was not listening to a thing the young man was saying, but from the sneer on his face, and glint in his eyes, Hermione could tell that Snape was enjoying whatever was going on.
3. When Hermione first mentioned the Mill Fair, Severus affected a look of haughty disdain and proceeded to ignore her with the aloofness of a scornful kneazle. Such preposterous pastimes (including, but not limited to, Yule, Halloween and Valentine balls, Easter extravaganzas, Leaving Feasts, Ministry banquets, stag parties and wedding receptions) were beneath him and his dignity, thank you very much. Especially if he could not use his wand to unleash the full extent of his contempt on unsuspecting rose bushes or hapless cupids.
It was bad enough that Spinner's End was a successful project of sustainable urban development, recultivation and revitalisation nowadays and that it had won the 'Greenest Corner of the City' award five years running. There was truly no need to add insult to injury and participate in a Mill Fair based on a multi-cultural concept of ethnic (snort!), environmental (snerk!) and historical (ha!) awareness.
He wouldn't encourage such nonsense if he were paid for it.
Of course that was before his daughter had glimpsed the nostalgic carousel and before Rose had expressed a keen interest in riding the little white elephant that was - in her opinion - leading the parade of wooden animals as they twirled in endless circles of cream and gold, red and blue.
4. Before that surprising night, it had been almost twenty years since Severus Snape had last attended the Hogsmeade Litha festival. That fact awoke the specter of faded memories to his mind as he unconsciously recalled those past nights spent in midst the same crowds and jarring music. He'd hated it then, as well, but there had been little that Severus would not have done for his mother.
For love of his mother, Snape had endured all of the old festivals of the Wheel of the Year, prodigiously going with her to every one of them which fell during his holidays from school. The night of the Solstice, though, had always been Euphemia's most favorite. He remembered once that his mother had remarked off-handedly that great deal of important events in her life had roots in Solstice: her birthday fell close to it; she'd met his father on one, then married him on another; and, when she'd said that it would forever be her favorite day because she spent it with him every year, the sixteen-year-old had went red in a decidedly unattractive fashion. But Euphemia Snape had simply laughed her quiet, tinkling laugh and hugged her highly embarrassed son and he'd forgiven her for the fact that they been spotted by the Potter family and their mangy, homeless mongrel who had taken the occasion to sneer at Snape and had spent the next semester ridiculing him for it simply because she'd been so happy in that moment.
Euphemia Lovell Snape had had few happy moments in her life, her son knew, even if she liked to pretend otherwise.
Now, twenty-some years after that particular Solstice, Snape hovered near the refreshments table which blocked the entrance to Madam Puddifoot's with a wine glass in hand, looking menacing, displeased and thoroughly unapproachable.
5. The darkness had fallen early, a signal that autumn was on its way out the revolving season door. There was still the warmth of summer in the air, though, and Severus Snape was determined to take full advantage of it. He had excused himself from the festivities in order to breathe in the heady, muggy air. In truth, he’d simply need out of the melee. The Great Hall was packed with witches and wizards of all shapes, sizes, and ages. Alumni week at Hogwarts was just as he remembered it – loud, raucous, and annoyingly cheerful.
The Gryffindors got along with the Slytherins.
The Slytherins, in turn, played somewhat fair on the Quidditch pitch.
And in the midst of it all, Albus twinkled, Minerva tutted, and the now-grown Golden Trio assaulted his sensibilities. They’d been so easy to despise as children, he reasoned, what with their penchant for attracting trouble and always managing to get out of it mostly intact. As adults, however, he found it a bit more difficult to dislike them.
Ronald Weasley was calmer, weathered even, and, of greater surprise, smarter. A terrifying prospect to be sure.
Even Harry Potter, the Hero, was more subdued. Though, Severus postulated, that could have something to do with Harry’s recent sexuality announcement – he was gay and, apparently, proud of it.
But it was Hermione Granger who took the prize for most changed, and not just her rat’s nest of a hairstyle. Gone was the eager know-it-all, the girl he could not stand to be in the presence of. She was very much a different woman now – an intelligent, sarcastic, caustic woman. To engage her in conversation was to engage her in battle and to win it took wits. He found himself, quite against his better judgment, attracted to her.
6. She pushed her unsweetened tea towards him. “What shall we do next?”
“If I’m to be instructed in fun, then that would seem the place to go.”
She looked to where he pointed. “Fun houses aren’t all that fun.”
“Nonetheless, it should prove distracting.” He drained her cup and stood, offering her his hand.
For the first time in her life, she didn’t fall crossing through the rolling tube. They fought the downward motion of the ramp, bumping into each other when they reached the top. A completely dark corridor stretched before them. She stumbled through blindly, one hand on the wall. Coming out the other end, she realized the corridor had split in two. Severus was nowhere to be seen.
Before she could step into the hall of mirrors, her least favorite part of the utterly stupid attraction, a hand covered her eyes. Another plucked the wand from her pocket. She struggled, but a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight against a very male torso. She stilled, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how her heart pounded.
“Shhhh.” The timbre of his voice was wrong.
The thought fled as he tilted her head, dropping kisses on her neck.
7. As she watched the crowd, she felt a flare of pleasant warmth ripple across her body, as if someone had passed her with a torch on a cold night. It came again and stayed. She turned away from the crowd, trying to orient on this heat source, and saw a man, thirty feet away on the other side of the bonfire. She could easily tell it was a man, even if she couldn't make out his features. He was long and lean, and his colors were a dark grey, like hematite, flickering with silver lightning. After the rainbow assault of the crowd, he was soothing to her.
Even without seeing his eyes, she knew he was looking at her. She knew instinctively that she was actually feeling the heat of his gaze. She wondered if he felt the same from her, and safe in the anonymity of her eyesore colors, she stared back. He took a step towards her but stopped and withdrew again, shaking his head slightly. He turned away, and she felt suddenly bereft—chilled—as if the sun had passed behind a cloud.
She climbed down from the rock. She hadn't made a conscious decision to go seek him out, but there was no doubt that that was her intent. She skirted the outer edge of the crowd slowly, making her way clockwise around the fire. She had lost sight of him as soon as she had jumped down. She made her way to where she thought he would be, but when she got there, she'd lost him. She looked around, craning her head around people who suddenly made her eyes hurt, but to no avail.
She sighed and turned back to the dance. The swirl of color was no longer amusing, the jumble of shades and hues threatened to bring on a headache. She stepped back into the shadows, out of the reach of the fire, and looked up at the full moon overhead, feeling its light pouring down on her like a balm. She sighed and closed her eyes. It seemed like she could almost feel the moonlight touching her and she welcomed it.
She opened them again when she felt the warmth. She turned her head and looked back over her shoulder and saw him, ten feet away in the shadows, dark, metallic grey with flickering lightning.
8. Our kind hardly ever run. A strength which has not, historically, been to their advantage.
But that strength – weakness – whichever you prefer – it does provide me with no small measure of cover, from which I work.
(Really, you must get out of the wind. You've been standing, exposed, by that carousel for far too long; do you not see the sign swaying above you? Hear the roof rattling on the penny arcade? Is it time, then, for me to move, to draw you in toward the heart of the park, to the water's edge, where soon the storm surge will rise above the heads of those tall enough to ride this ride?)
So the death tolls have, since I arrived, been a little lower than they might have been.
The damage a little less.
(It is earlier than I would have liked, but I do not like the angle of that sign. It will surely fall, but which way? And of course you cannot see, with your ridiculous hair in this wind… then let us move indoors, but which? All the attractions are abandoned; too close to the water; closed for the season, regardless… Into the Fun House? The House of Mirrors? I spy, said the… fly? Spider? Either way…)
Ah, good; you follow – you can't be certain what it is you've seen – a wrong-way rippling; some trick of the light? – but you have always been curious. (It killed the – no, not this time; it saved you this time.) That sign is falling where you were standing; do you not hear? I cannot pause to check on your attention; too soon for you to see me; too soon. The penny arcade roof will be next; I must get you inside…
Move along smartly now; the tide rises, and a house of mirrors is only as tall as its weakest pillar.
9. "We'll have to reschedule next month," Lavender said. "The Fair's starting up and I'll be busy."
"Fair? What do you mean?" she asked Lavender.
"I always forget that you're Muggle-born." Lavender thanked the witch who re-filled her goblet with ice-cherry nectar. "It's the Fair, it started in Scarborough but now it's everywhere. Used to be just business, and it starts August 15th. I'm expecting several renewals on my cosmetics' contracts and the clothing line is doing well. I'm thinking I'll have to raise prices there."
"Lav-en-der," Hermione drew out her friend's name. "What are you talking about? Scarborough Fair is just a folk song."
"A song? What are you talking about? It's a trade fair, almost as old as Hogwarts, not a song. Used to happen every year. But Voldemort put a stop to it for a while. Gringotts has brought it back. All the merchants get together and decide the supply and inventory for the next year or so. Gringotts brings in special help to file all the contracts for goods and services," Lavender explained.
"In the Muggle world, it's a song about lost love." Hermione explained the lyrics. "Supposed to have been written by Henry VIII about Anne Boleyn."
"Contracts used to be taken out for courtship and marriage," Lavender explained. "But that's fallen out of fashion, though I'm surprised the Ministry let one of the Mad Madrigal's songs get out to the Muggle world. Or did the Madrigal leave? I can never remember."
"Courtship contracts ..." Hermione trailed off when she spied two familiar wizards at a table across the room. "Glad that's no longer done," she continued.
10. “Mum! Dad! Wait up! Can I? Can I, please?” a small, bushy-haired girl pleaded, pointing to a small tent off to the side of the carnival grounds.
“What, dear?” the girl’s mother replied distractedly as she straightened the girl’s jumper.
The little girl sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. Adults never paid attention. “Can I please go have my fortune read? Pleeeeeaaaaase?” She looked up at her mother with large, doe-like eyes. The girl’s father chuckled and put his arm around his wife. He knew his wife could not refuse that look; their daughter did have his eyes after all. Sure enough, she agreed and handed their baby girl some money. She beamed up at them and bolted for the tent opening.
“That’s our Hermione,” the girl’s father said as he watched her enter the tent fearlessly.
Hermione’s sensitive nose tickled under the assault of the tent’s perfumed insides. She managed to force back a sneeze as she looked around. The tent looked a lot bigger on the inside than on the outside, but her child-like senses barely registered that fact. What really caught her attention were the inhabitants of the tent. They looked like they were from some whole other world, and her eyes widened at the implications.
Hermione had never been a child that was enthralled by the fantasy books and stories like most children at her age were. She was a reader of fact and science. Even at her young age. But at that exact moment, her world was flipped upside down. She whole-heartedly believed these two people were magical.