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Match the quotes to the story titles without picking the red herring titles:
The Infinite Kiss by savine_snape
Llansteffan House by celisnebula
Schadenfreude by dressagegrrrl
Plan B by apollinav
"A Mournful Rustling in the Dark" by elise_wanderer
A Rose in the Depth of Winter by satismagic
I Am Not a Goldfish by cathedralcarver
Wag How It Will by southernwitch69
Fallen by brenamarie
Attention to Detail by florahart
An Inconvenient Marriage by imhilien
Ten Lifetimes by ozratbag2
1. I want to read because I can read and have been doing so for some time, now, thank you very much.
I want a book but I cannot leave my bed. It's a dilemma, which is another word for problem. My bookshelf is across the room. I can see all my precious books there, lined up precisely, alphabetically. I want The Velveteen Rabbit. I know exactly where it is. I close my eyes and hold out my hands, concentrating. I can feel its worn cover against my fingers, familiar and comforting as my hair against my cheek when I sleep.
I want that book.
I want that book.
I want that book—
And suddenly it's there, in my hands, as if it always has been. I'm too startled to make a sound. I lie very still, staring up at an object that was on the shelf a second ago and now is no longer there.
There, then here.
How did it happen?
I turn the book over and over in my small hands, wondering if it's real, or if I'm dreaming.
2. “Oh, lord,” I muttered. “Severus Snape was in a terrible Muggle band called Schadenfreude. The indignity!”
I flipped over the sleeve and examined the songs listed on the back. There were only four tracks, thank the gods. With titles like, “Transfigure my Heart,” “Love Potion,” and “Call me on the Fellytone,” I could only be grateful there weren’t more. My eyes grew suddenly round when I realized that they’d included a bonus Christmas song called, of all things, “Jingle Spells.”
Pulling my knees up to my chin, I listened in horrified silence, afflicted by the same perverse human quality that makes you stare at a car accident as you drive by it. By the end of the first song, my ears ached so badly that I felt as if I were in a bass drum being banged by a monkey on speed.
I pictured Professor Snape at a gig, unyielding and menacing as he plucked the strings to his immortal anthem devoted to his love of potions, or tried to deduct points from an over-enthusiastic fan. Twenty points, he’d hiss, handing the girl back her knickers. Twenty points for behavior unsuited to a young lady. Where is your self-respect? She’d stutter and try to excuse herself, but he’d continue, his black eyes smoldering like coals. Do you think I get up here for you? So that I can get some fine young thing between my sheets? No. I do it because I love the music.
I felt the corner of my mouth twitch madly.
3. "I'm sorry, Ron, but you need to move on. We broke up months ago, and this is just something I need to do."
"But you never even liked potions! I just don't understand why you've all of a sudden decided that this is what you want to do for the rest of your life! Besides, you've got enough knowledge in the subject to teach the subject if that's what you really want to do... But I remember how angry you were with the greasy git's textbook. You—"
In an instant I had the tip of my wand pressed into his throat.
"Call Professor Snape that again, Ronald, and you will be regretting it for a long time," I seethed. "Show some respect! That man gave his life so we could still be here today. I may not have had the aptitude for potions that he had, but I can learn anything. Plus, Mr. Knaus believes I have the potential. So, I'm moving to Germany, and I will learn everything about the subtle art of potion making. There will be no further discussion regarding this topic, understand me?"
I could hear the animosity in his voice, but honestly didn't care. No one could understand my quest to honor Professor Snape's memory. It made me feel better though.
4. A lifetime ago, I was simply Hermione 'the bookworm' Granger, an unbearable swot who couldn't help but regurgitate facts, odd snippets of trivia, and nonsensical statements that made sense at the time - but make me cringe now. It's really a wonder I made any friends at all. Severus tells me that constantly. It's his way of showing me through his lifetimes of memories that I could have been like him in far more ways than I am already.
Hopefully, without the five-o'clock shadow at the end of a long day, or the snotty mood when a shipment of manuscripts fails to arrive on time.
But I'm getting ahead of myself again. Another one of my failings I'm afraid, but as this is me trying to make sense of which anniversary we should be celebrating, or perhaps more correctly, in which particular order, you'll just have to bear with me while I get around to the crux of this rambling series of thoughts. Severus, who has an opinion on just about everything, is remarkably silent when it comes to the issue of what we should be celebrating. Give the man a roast, a sinfully rich dessert and a good shag, and he'll agree to almost anything .
5. "I am working on a way to destroy your beloved Dark Lord," I began in my most annoyingly Gryffindor voice because he expected blunt stupid honesty. And really it was something they already knew. It wasn't any secret that we'd been trying to kill the evil bastard since before he even became corporeal. "I need Snape's help. Now either you'll send him in my direction because you wouldn't mind seeing your big bad lizard-wizard gone, or you'll send him to infiltrate and report back. I'll leave it up to you to decide why you're going to help, but you'll do it."
He sneered which was to be expected, and was it just me that the sneer didn't seem quite so sneerful? "Really, I'm just going to help you like that, just because you asked? Turn him over to you lot to hex, you must be joking, or perhaps you're the stupid one. Tell me Granger, is fucking a Weasley like injecting stupid?" He chuckled at his own joke as if it were funny.
"I can threaten you if you prefer."
"I don't see how," sniffed ever the prissy boy.
I shrugged casually before deadpanning, "You shed."
"Shed," I repeated slowly as if he was slow himself, which in a way is true. "You know your hair."
"Geez o' flip Malfoy, do I have fucking spell everything out for you? I have samples of your hair. I'm a witch. I can brew polyjuice potion, in fact I brewed it successfully back in second year. I'm not sure what I'll do with it yet, but I'm a creative gal, I can come up with lots of ideas. Maybe I'll circulate photos of you snogging Harry, or eating at McDonalds, or maybe I'll just pitch a hissy fit in the middle of Hogsmeade and cry uncontrollably. Honestly I don't know, but I will make it as public and humiliating as possible. Now, are you going to get Snape for me or not?"
Malfoy was standing stock still and quiet.
6. “At last,” my husband said softly, words that seemed to be spoken more to himself than to me.
Given the amount of time and effort Severus had put into making the antidote, this day should not have surprised me. But the air of satisfaction about him as well as the gloating triumph upon his face made me conscious of what I was – an unwanted, unlovely Gryffindor wife in the eyes of my husband and it hurt me inside. I had always had sympathies for the underdogs of life, and now it was brought home to me that I really had become one.
I could have hexed him on the spot. Several times.
But I couldn’t go on like this anymore – I needed to get away.
“I want to go away for a holiday,” I said tightly.
Severus raised an eyebrow at me (he dared to!) but on this day he was obviously inclined to be generous to me. After all, he didn’t have to sleep with me anymore, did he? The way in which he held himself now declared his satisfaction in the freedom he now had from me…but surely, I thought, there had been times when he had enjoyed being with me? Had there?
“Do what you like and take as long as you need,” he said smoothly and swept away.
7. “Sarah Branson is dead.” Her voice was matter of fact – as if she hadn’t just been admonishing me a few moments before.
“I – when? I mean, I knew she was old, but from what my Mum had said, she hadn’t been in poor health.”
Gertrude shrugged a shoulder. “Not more’n a week, if that.” She leaned heavily on her walker and gave me a harsh look. “You didn’t waste much time getting here.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“T’is obvious why you’re here now,” she bit out. She braced each hand on the handles of her walker and braced herself up so she was standing straight and tall. “You couldn’t wait to jump on what she had.”
I stumbled back from the venom in her voice, catching the edge of my heel on the cat cage. I landed awkwardly. “I – I didn’t know she had passed,” I protested. “I was invited – Aunt Sarah… she had some things she wanted to tell me.” My fingers fumbled as I reached into my pocket for the letter I’d been sent.
She snatched it out of my hand as soon as I had pulled it free.
8. He is a master of disguise. The multiple layers of clothing he wears hide the true nature of the man. They are his armour against a world standing on the brink of insanity. If the Dark wins there will be no stopping them. There will be no place in this world for witches and wizards like me.
Here in a room hired for one night only, we can forget that the war is escalating. My parents are, for the moment, safe. His are long gone. Here, in the warmth of the room, I can forget that I am wanted merely for being the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived. Here, I can help him forget that many believe him to be evil to the core. Together we can forget that we play our parts to perfection.
The lines on his face have deepened since May. He didn’t want to do what he was commanded to do. He tried to back out, but he knew that his fate was already sealed. Bellatrix is a cunning and manipulative woman; I dislike her intensely. She knew what she was doing when she called him a coward; she knew he’d make the Unbreakable Vow. Once Albus learned of the vow, he added to the pain it caused my lover.
Yes, Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard; he was also a masterful manipulator.
9. I heard them talking about it again tonight! Okay, so I don't hear them mention it all too often (I've been working at Hogwarts for nearly two years now and have only heard the name a handful of times), but this is the second time this week one of them have mentioned it: Wizarding Academic Guild. There's going to be some new members being initiated sometime soon. Someone from Hogwarts possibly, from the titbit I heard anyway.
The first time someone mentioned it—Professor Snape, of course—I asked immediately what this guild was about and when they met. I was rudely told that it was an exclusive club that only men were allowed to join. Imagine my indignation! Only men? That surprised me a great deal. Women have long since proved their worth. I wouldn't have been surprised if I were to be excluded because of my blood status, many wizards are still idiotic in their thinking in regards to that, but because of my gender?
The tirade that ensued wasn't appreciated in the least, but it had no affect whatsoever on anyone present. You'd think that Professor Flitwick would have been understanding, but he just smiled, patted me on the hand, and said that if I were that disappointed I should just go and start one for women only.
I don't want to start one for women only! I want to see what's so important about theirs that only men may take part. I want to prove them wrong. I want to... Oh, God, but I have a great idea. Definitely.
10. "May I have access to the organization's mainframe?" he asked.
"Anything you need," I replied. "However, we all have laptops as well, and I would guess not everything gets backed up, even the data that should be." I grimaced. I was the worst offender. Not having much experience with computers until I well on my way to adulthood had put me at a severe disadvantage. I relied far more heavily on Alec's proficiency than I should have. I know my technological ineptitude was an ongoing source of amusement for him.
Smith motioned back toward the cleaning crew with a jerk of his head. "Do they have much interaction with the staff?"
I considered the question. "Not really," I replied. "Karen might know them on sight, Alec certainly does, but I doubt anyone else has ever stayed around late enough to run into any of them. The previous office manager hired them before she moved to Dublin. I may be the only one left who even knows their names."
"You trust Alec," he stated.
"With my life," I replied immediately.
He cocked his head at me, giving me a considering look.
"Oh, honestly," I huffed, "he's gayer than–" I stopped myself. I sometimes kept myself amused with oblique references to a life I had pretty much stopped living, but I was going to have to be careful now. Jack Smith might have well and truly lost his memory, but it did not do to take unnecessary chances. "Besides," I added quickly, "office romances are a very bad idea."
Funny, I thought later, how some things can come back to bite you in the arse.