morethansirius (morethansirius) wrote in quiz_sshg,

Threesomes Quiz - Part 5

Another year another threesome Quiz.

((whistles innocently))

Would you believe there are enough threesome stories for a fifth quiz? You betcha. Sharing can be a very good thing.




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 picking the red herring titles:

Foreign Country by wonderfulwrites (SS/HG/LM)
Epithalamium by shiv5468 (SS/HG/LM)
Light and Dark by stefdarlin (SS/HG/LM)
Lines in Shifting Sands by tjwritter aka whatnotastic (SS/HG/RW)
An Unlikely Trio by good_witch aka pern_dragon (SS/HG/LM)
To Love and to Cherish by dreamy_dragon73 (SS/HG/LM)
Passion’s Promise by luvsev (SS/HG/BW)
Coming Home by Mint Stick aka kribu (SS/HG/HP)
The Examination by alisanne (SS/HG/HP)
Carrot Tops and Unspeakable Plans by sunnythirty3 (SS/HG/RW)
The Scottish Kilt by aleysiasnape (SS/HG/LM)
Way by Moon Light by arsenicjade (SS/HG/HP)

1.  “I know that most girls are supposed to spend their teenage years dreaming of the perfect wedding,” Hermione observed over the top of the piece of lime jauntily perched in her cocktail. “I never did.”

“Well, no, we were too busy trying to work out how to live beyond eighteen,” Harry replied, and sucked hard on his straw to make sure he had extracted the last of the vodka lurking at the bottom of all the fruit juice. “And what girls were thinking, in my case. And what a waste of time that turned out to be; men are much simpler creatures, and so much easier to get into bed.”

“I dream about it now,” Hermione said gloomily. “Nightmares. Horrible bloody nightmares, where I wake up in the middle of the night screaming because the napkins don’t match the table cloth.”

“Won’t happen. Don’t worry.” Harry reached across the table and patted her hand. “I narrowed it down to three choices, Lucius picked one, and he’s fine with it. Besides, do you think anyone is going to have the nerve to tell Lucius that he’s made the wrong choice?”

“Not about napkins, no.” Hermione tilted her glass, and poked at the froth at the bottom to see if there was more drink hiding beneath it. There wasn’t. “They’ve all got an opinion on the bride though. And they’re not shy of sharing it.”

2. His hand slid around to cup her right breast; she twisted her hand more tightly into Severus's shirt. "But pity she isn't up for this."

"I rather think it's an issue of being overwhelmed," Severus replied, and Hermione didn't correct him. Let him believe that. Let him think this revulsion to Malfoy was a reaction to acting out one of her favorite fantasies, not to actually letting a bigoted, scheming murderer touch her. He knew she wasn't thrilled about his choice of Malfoy as their third, but that was all he knew. He didn't know that she would have never said yes in the first place if not for his weekly night at the pub with Malfoy. He didn't know that sometimes she had hazy, terror filled nightmares about a long ago drawing room, the agony of a Cruciatus Curse, and a never ending stream of questions about Gryffindor's sword. He didn't know that she was at the very edge of panic and only an iron hard force of will was keeping her from giving in.

He didn't know, and it would stay that way.

Besides, she was here now, between them, and committed to seeing this through; there was no way that she was going to give Lucius Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing her lose her resolve.

3. Harry got up and started pacing in front of the fireplace. “Look, I was thinking … we could take him in. I’m sure that if I keep reminding Kingsley, it’ll only take a couple of weeks, so it’s not like we’d have to—”

“—not like we’d have to put up with him for ever,” Hermione finished the thought for him. “I think it’s a great idea.” She beamed at him. “I was just thinking the same thing. After everything he’s done and suffered through, we can’t allow him to end up on the streets!”

Letting out a relieved breath, Harry pulled her up and into his arms.

“Thanks. I knew you’d agree, but I was still worried,” he admitted, pressing a quick kiss on her lips. “After all, he’s still Snape. And we’d have to look after him.”

“We’ll manage,” Hermione murmured, sliding her fingers into his messy hair. “We’ve managed far worse things before. Putting up with Snape for a bit won’t be a problem.”

4. Maybe it was that look, maybe it was all the death and destruction Ron had to face after the victory was declared, whatever the reason, he soon found himself moving himself, his fiancée and their almost-dead Potions master into a row house in an abandoned part of London called Spinner’s End.

That was the first in a long list of lines he would eventually cross. He’d like to say he did it all for love, but we will see soon enough, there were other reasons, just as noble, but harder to articulate for our Mr. Weasley. He had barely time to acclimate himself to this new existence before the wind picked up and the swirling sand shifted around him again in the form of news that while he was planning a life for him and Hermione, she was busy planning a life for herself.

“What do you mean you’re going back to school? We’re supposed to be getting married, remember? Remember that I asked and you agreed?” Ron said.

He was standing on one side of the guest bed, hand on the post to steady himself. Hermione was sitting on the edge of the other side, applying the salve to Snape’s wound, as they had to do four times a day.

It turned out, the potion he had concocted to survive Nagini’s bite had stopped the bleeding but had done immeasurable damage to the man’s nervous system and some pretty major organs of the body; the most important being his heart. He had remained at St. Mungo’s for two months. Hermione went daily to reinforce the glamour.

5. At first the emails were all business--at least, Hermione's were. She wrote about the latest news in the Potions community--began ordering the proper journals for just that purpose--or discussed her theories about what might actually be true in the Prophet's articles. Sometimes she would talk about her work and ask for his opinions. Other times she talked about Hogwarts and Minerva's slow chipping away at the house system, or rather, the sorting system, which now took place in second year, but Minerva was aiming for fourth. She didn't ask him how he was, nor did she talk about how she was.

She didn't know what Harry wrote. She didn't know if he talked about the few things concerning his work that he was allowed to discuss, or if he chatted Quidditch or if they talked more about Lily. She didn't ask. She had always allowed Harry his friendships outside of her--as he had with her--and now was no exception.

She expected things to go on as they were between her and Snape, their email conversations engaging and enlightening and more-than-occasionally infuriating, when Snape broke the pattern by asking, "How is Potter sleeping?"

She hadn't answered for a while. Eventually she'd asked Harry, "What would you think, if Snape and I were talking about you?"

6. Severus glared at Potter as he leaned in to examine Severus’ left arm closely. “It looks faded to me,” Potter finally pronounced, looking over at Granger. “And I don’t sense anything unusual from it.”

“Of course you don’t,” Severus growled. “You killed the Dark Lord yourself, you imbecile.”

“Always good to be sure,” Potter replied, continuing to hold onto Severus’ arm.

Rolling his eyes, Severus turned back towards Granger. “Well?” he asked as Granger hummed noncommittally. “Are you satisfied? Is this farce over? May I leave?”

“We’re not quite done,” Granger said, sliding her hand beneath his gown and unerringly finding his cock. “I still have a few more things to check.”

Severus’ eyes widened. “What are you--?”
 

7. “Now, listen carefully, I have two gifts in my hand. You have to pick one and the other will get the remaining gift. To make this fair, pick a number between one and ten.” Hermione instructed them as she picked a number in her head: seven.

“Six,” Lucius replied.

“Four,” Severus replied, hoping that he was close to Hermione’s number.

“Sorry, Severus, but Lucius was closest to the number, which was seven.” Hermione responded as she held the two gifts out towards Lucius.

Lucius picked the one that was wrapped in silver. She handed the other gift, which was wrapped in green, to Severus.

“You may now take your blindfolds off to unwrap your gifts,” Hermione announced as she sat Indian style on the bed, waiting with bated breath to see if they liked their gifts.

8. Staring with an open mouth for a moment, Severus shook a little, bringing himself back to reality. “Gods, Hermione, don’t do that to me when I have to wait for the evening,” he grumbled, frowning.

Rising up on her knees, she moved forward, laying her hands on his shoulders. “And who says we have to wait?” Tilting down, her mouth covered his, her arms instantly reaching around him, pulling him closer.

“Mm,” Severus sighed, giving in to the taste of her. Opening his mouth, his tongue searched hers, tangling and weaving an intricate pattern. Dropping the banana, Severus drew her to him, crushing their bodies together.

“Tut, tut, I should feel wounded, my friends, starting without me.”

“Mm,” Severus and Hermione replied together, still locked in a kiss.

Striding forward, Lucius placed his hand on Hermione’s back, caressing it softly. “Well, we have been concerned for your welfare. Though now seems as good a time as any… if you both agree.”

9. Warmth flooded her being as she felt strong hands stroke down her sides.

‘Severus, anyone could see...’ Hermione breathed deeply to settle herself.

‘No one will,’ Bill muttered in his husky baritone voice.

It had been so long since she had felt his sure hands upon her form, and it brought back the memory of their only time together, the night after the fall of Voldemort. Everyone who had suffered under the megalomaniac was celebrating by getting right pissed, but she and Bill had chosen not to partake of the alcohol; instead, they had indulged in a secret night of passion.

Snapping out of her reverie, she turned to face him—to see the lightning reflected in his deep-blue eyes. He bent his head to capture her lips, but she placed her damp hands on his hard, well-muscled chest and pushed him away.

‘Bill, we can’t. I’m with Severus, and I...’ Hermione trailed off.

‘Love him?’ Bill offered, gazing steadily into her eyes.

‘Yes.’

‘Just one kiss, Hermione, is all I ask.’

10. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty; we have a seduction to plan.” Hermione reached for her trusty biro and notepad, having long before abandoned quills and ink as far too messy for jotting down those important ideas that came to her in bed.

“Does it have to be now? I just had Snape snogging me in the elevator at the Ministry. Could have led to all sorts of interesting prospects,” he complained.

“Snape would never be so uncouth, Ronald. Although, he might shag me in the elevator.”

“Why you and not me?”

“Because I happen to be responsible for setting the password which can stall it between floors.” Hermione grinned as she clicked her biro into action. “Now, wet dreams aside, how are we going to get that delicious man into our bed?”

“Buggered if I know.” Ron shrugged.

“That’s the least of the benefits, dearest. I suspect we will need to stoop to duplicitous Slytherin strategems to achieve our object.” She began writing.

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