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:
A Sloe Comfortable Screw Up Against The Potions Bench by Flyingegg
The Hogwarts Men's Club by Andrian
Frogs In Winter 01 by ladyofthemasque
Cassandra Wept by plaidpooka
THE FOURTH UNFORGIVABLE by Abby
The Bookshop by shiv5468
Clinical Trial by Tonksinger
Last Minute Crisis by Quillusion
Silence is Golden by Fervesco
Problems With Dentists by pigwidgeon37
Check Mate by Moaning Myrtle
The Devil You Know by snarkypants
1. When Hermione went back into Snape’s bedroom, she was wearing nothing but her underwear, with the baggy shirt over it. He hadn’t moved, and the high sound of pain hadn’t lessened either. She walked over to where he was huddled, and crouched down in front of him, placing her hand firmly on his shoulder. He shuddered.
“Severus,” she said firmly. “I can help you with this.”
“Why are you still here?”
“Because I care far too much about you to walk away and leave you to die, when there’s a simple way for me to prevent it.” And she was astonished to discover that that was nothing more than the truth.
“I don’t want your help.” The words rejected her, but his arms had already uncurled to reach for her.
She knelt within his embrace, and leant forward to place her lips on his, intending to be as gentle as possible. His response was immediate and savage. His right hand came up to tangle in her hair, grasping the back of her head, as his mouth claimed hers with bruising passion. She felt the kiss searing into her as she opened her mouth to let his tongue thrust inside, exploring, tasting, biting at her lower lip. Fire exploded within her and a hot pulse began to throb between her thighs. All thoughts of gentleness gone, she pressed her own tongue into his mouth, stroking and exploring, tasting the mint and spice of him.
2. Sobering Potion spewed out onto the floor, wasted. Choking, swallowing quickly as the door swung shut of its own weight behind him, he stared at the hallucination lying on his bed. It had woken up at the sound of the door thumping shut, and… It. Was. Naked. Naked naked naked naked.
Part of his brain--the part responsible for the three-year-old--started gibbering and chanting that shocking, startling, alarming, utterly enthralling word. Naked naked naked naked. It really liked that word. Naked naked naked naked. Oh, yes. Part of his brain--the teeny, tiny part that occasionally, rarely, once in a fucking blue moon actually admired Potter the Prat and his various, terrifying friends--screamed--Good God, Granger!!
Naked naked naked naked.
Good Good, Granger!!
Naked naked naked naked! Granger!! Naked naked naked naked--Granger!!
“--Shite, you’re naked!” he blurted, staring so hard at her, he feared his eyes would pop out of his head, like that damned magical eye of Moody’s.
“No ffite, Ferlock!” the furious hallucination on his bed spat through the gag dividing her mouth and half-smothering her lips. “Unfie fee!”
3. Dumbledore waved Harry aside. “No need! For I have a scar above my left knee that reproduces the London Underground map in fullest detail. Or is it my right knee? Ah, well, there’s one sure way to find out.” The old wizard shucked his robes to prove that, indeed, there was nothing worn under his robes: everything was in perfect working order. Still wearing shoes, silk socks and sock garters, the otherwise naked wizard propped the appropriate leg up on a chair, displaying his wedding tackle to fullest advantage. He pointed to a complicated scar covering most of his knee. “See? Here’s the District line…”
Groaning, Snape hid his face in his hands.
“I did not need to see that!” Hermione insisted. “I am scarred for life. I need a drink.” She picked up Luna’s abandoned sloe comfortable screw and, flipping the cherry out of the drink, gulped the contents of the glass in one go. When she had finished, she found Severus Snape staring at her.
“What?” she asked, annoyed by his scrutiny. “I would have offered you my cherry, but you’ve already had that.”
Snape cringed. “I was drunk.”
“You are now.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “It was five years ago. Give it a rest.”
“You brought it up.”
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes again. “Whatever.” She leaned. Snape caught her before she slid off the bar stool and supported her against his side.
“Why do you drink so much, Hermione?”
The question was as softly delivered as it was unexpected.
4. “It’s just,” she hesitated, flushed right red with embarrassment, “I haven’t had a great deal of success to date.”
“You were going out with a Weasley. Of course you were disappointed; it was inevitable.”
“He wasn’t that bad; he was quite adventurous you know.” Her defence was half-hearted at best, just enough to satisfy her delicate Gryffindor sensibilities but not enough to convince a dispassionate hearer.
He could imagine what Weasley being adventurous would involve. It was probably the only time in his life that he would have read a book, and it would have been all the wrong ones: books with more pictures than text, and pictures of witches with unfeasibly large breasts, and an unnatural flexibility.
“Even that was a disaster,” she added mournfully. “He tied me to the bed once.” She shook her head sadly. “I just felt silly, all splayed out there waiting for him; silly, and a bit cold actually.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” he said, exasperated, “those sorts of games are about domination and control, and Mr Weasley is about as dominating as a wet lettuce. It would have been better if you tried that game the other way round.”
She gave a snort of laughter, and then confided, “He kept his socks on.”
Severus didn’t have to construct the mental image of a naked Weasley, it was to the forefront of Hermione’s mind. Ronald Weasley, so proud of his jutting cock and thinking all he had to do was to wave it in front of her and she’d be begging for more, and so patently unaware of how foolish he looked wearing white – white! - socks. How quickly it had drooped when Hermione had started giggling, and when she’d started she hadn’t been able to stop.
“It seems to me the problem is quite simple,” Severus said softly. “You’ve been having sex with Gryffindors, what you need is a Slytherin.”
Her head came up like an antelope testing the air for lion.
5. "You do understand the concept of 'forfeit'?" he asked smoothly. Hermione was so distracted by the tantrum being thrown by her king that she didn't catch the dark tone underlying his question. At first.
"Ummm ... I understand the term" she said. Somewhere, a tiny part of her mind was sending out distress signals but she couldn't quite make sense of the hairs standing on the back of her neck.
"Then," he purred into her ear from behind her chair "are you offering me a forfeit?"
He really should have to register that voice, she thought. It's as least as lethal as his wand. Maybe even more so.
"Miss Granger?" he murmured.
"Yes?" she whispered.
"The forfeit?" he repeated.
Hermione sighed, secretly relieved that the tortuous game was to end. "Yes, I suppose I have no choice." She hoped that her voice didn't reveal quite as much as she felt. "And what is it that you're offering me?" Snape asked in his silkiest voice.
"Yes, I forfeit" she sighed, then started. "Wait, what do you mean, about what I'm offering you?" she challenged.
"You disappoint me, Miss Granger," Severus Snape said archly. "Surely you understand the concept of a forfeit?" Hermione shook herself mentally and thought for a moment. He then used his wand as a small flashlight to illuminate the word "forfeit" in the open dictionary on the table next to her chair. Hermione casually followed the beam of light as it ran over the definition: "Forfeit (n.): something that is lost or surrendered as a penalty". Her eyes widened in surprise. When the realization dawned on her, her eyes registered the shock. "Surely you don't mean --?" she asked, incredulous that he would stoop to such tactics.
He was suddenly in front of her, preventing her from bolting out of her chair. "Oh, but I most certainly DO mean..."
6. The kiss was awkward at first. Severus’ actions had taken them both by surprise and the resulting bumping of lips and noses left Severus enough presence of mind to wonder if Hermione would push him away, slap his face, and rush off to owl the school governors. As two mouths at last lined up properly and Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, all rational though left Severus’ head. The kiss progressed rapidly from a dry brushing of lips to steamy, open-mouthed caresses. Severus’ hands gave up their strangle hold on Hermione’s biceps and he wound his arms around her waist to drag her even closer. When Hermione’s tongue made a brave foray into his mouth, Severus groaned around it before chasing it back between her own lips. His groan was answered by the softest sounds. Tiny, pleading cries that were neither whimpers nor moans sent violent tremors down Severus’ spine straight to his hardening cock. When Severus’ hips thrust unconsciously against Hermione’s stomach, she pressed tighter against him. Far from being deterred by the proof of his arousal, Hermione lifted one leg to wrap around his upper thigh in a near desperate attempt to press more firmly against him.
Placing both his hands roughly on her arse, Severus lifted Hermione until the enticing swell of her hips nestled against his own. When the young witch responded by wrapping both her legs tightly around his waist, Severus turned to carry her to his desk. Pressing her down until Hermione’s back rested against the thankfully uncluttered surface, Severus gave up her mouth to nip and bite at the pale column of her throat as he began to undo the buttons of her blouse. Between nips, he murmured statements which were not quite questions.
“You’re a student…”
“I don’t care,” was Hermione’s breathless response. “Do you?”
“Not particularly,” he replied calmly as he slipped her unbuttoned blouse open. Taking one look at her bra, he simply pushed it higher on Hermione’s chest, baring her breasts without bothering to unclasp it. “You could be expelled,” he said before taking a crinkled nipple into his mouth.
Hermione’s pleased gasp delayed her response. When she spoke, it came out in stops and starts as he suckled and bit at her breasts. “Not likely…Dumbledore…has let…Gryffindors…get away with far…worse. You could be fired…”
“Not likely,” he murmured between bites. “Dumbledore has let…me get away with…far worse, myself.”
7. He looked at me, in the way that Harry described him looking during Occlumency lessons. I had no barriers to erect against him, and there was literally nothing for him to see. I felt as if a bomb had gone off nearby: half-blind, ears ringing, muddle-headed, dizzy. All I could see was him, looming larger and larger in my view.
I’m ashamed to say that I fell. It’s so stupid, so melodramatic: the damsel swoons at the feet of her saviour. I didn’t really swoon, though; I was fully conscious despite being muddle-headed. My legs were simply shaking so badly they couldn’t hold me up.
I half-expected him to snap at me or to deduct house points. At the very least, I expected a stinging comment about stupid girls and a hand around my upper arm, hauling me to my feet.
Instead, he took my arm and Apparated us away from the forest and MacNair’s cooling corpse. I couldn’t very well Apparate myself at that moment, and it didn’t even occur to me to wonder at where he was taking me.
We Apparated into a darkened room; I would learn later that it was in a grotty flat close to King’s Cross, but at the moment all I was aware of was the cold linoleum floor under my bum.
He should have been exhausted after casting Avada Kedavra and a Side-Along-Apparition from Scotland to London. He wasn’t.
He kissed me so forcefully that I felt the sting as the dry corners of my mouth cracked. He was pressed against me, and his cock was huge and hard against my belly. I sighed into his mouth, and he grunted into mine.
8. He unfolded the paper and began to read.
One paragraph into it, he leapt from the chair and whirled out the door, heading for his quarters at top speed.
Hermione was there when he threw open the door, and she looked up from Consequences and Incantations, brushing a curl behind her ear.
“Severus? Are you quite all… right…?” Her voice trailed off as he flipped the letter up, held between two fingers like a winning ace. For a long moment no sound aside from the crackling flames pervaded the still room.
“It… it’s too strange, isn’t it. I’m so sorry, you obviously don’t like it.” She flushed and stared at her knees. “You did say to just write down what I wanted, but we don’t have to do it, Severus. Really.” Her lips quirked in an attempted smile, but he saw the hurt in it and cursed the world that made her despise herself for having fantasies.
“Hermione,” he said, voice hoarse with the effort of control, “take off your clothes.”
It took a moment for the hope to light in her eyes and to turn her self-deprecating smile into a distinctly naughty smirk.
9. “Well, Sir,” she says, looking quite pleased with herself, like the cat who got the cream, so to speak, “if that shall be all…”
“That, Miss Granger, will suffice for having made such a mess in the first place. However, you have overlooked your bursting into my office uninvited.”
“Did I?” Bloody girl knew I wasn’t going to let her go that easily. “And what, pray tell, must I do to make up for that?”
I glance back at the ever-increasing wet circle on her panties, then back up at her face. “For that, Miss Granger, I do believe some preparation is in order.”
I place a palm on each of her knees, pushing them further apart. Proceeding to run my hands up each of her thighs, I witness her eyes falling closed.
“Miss Granger, you are to watch me at all times. Do I make myself clear?”
Her eyes flutter open. “Yes, Sir.”
I push my nose up against the damp material and inhale the heady scent. Gods, she smells delightful.
My head snaps back. “Don’t you dare address me by my first name!” I hiss at her. “In fact, it would be greatly to your advantage, Miss Granger, to keep your overly active vocabulary out of this!”
“Miss Granger,” I warn.
She simply nods her head.
10. “And you haven’t found yourself a suitable boyfriend there?”
She shook her head, looking down at her feet. “No, I’m still single, and still a bloody—” She stopped herself just in time.
The stranger chuckled again, deep down in his throat—it was a strangely erotic sound, she thought. “A bloody what?” he asked. “Not a virgin, by any chance?”
Now Hermione was glad that it was so dark, because she felt her face go very hot indeed. “Er, yes,” she mumbled.
A feather-light touch under her chin. “And you would like to be relieved of that burden?”
She swallowed convulsively. “Well, even if I would never have put it so bluntly—yes, I would. I’m the only one, you know. All my friends are constantly talking about sex and about their latest mind-blowing experiences, and all I can do is pretend I’d already had plenty of it and wasn’t interested anymore. There are books, you know,” she said, and he snorted. “No need to make fun of me. For conversation’s sake, they provide more than enough knowledge.”
“I see,” he said. “And to put it bluntly yet again: I would be delighted to give you a… uh, hand. No pun intended.”
Hermione was, to say the least, dumbstruck. This was the kind of thing she, and probably many other women, sometimes fantasized about—the shadow lover, emerging from the dark with a voice like warm honey, knowledgeable hands and, most importantly, wanting her and her alone… well, this last part maybe didn’t suit to perfection, because he had been rather nonchalant, but who’d bother with details when fantasies became reality?