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:
Anything Goes by swooning
Lay Me Low by teddyradiator WIP
Don’t Want To Miss A Thing by brenamarie
Angel by bulletimescully
Kiss The Girl by Titania
In Demand by Idamae
Missed Me by Danu aka danu_scathach
Macushla by neelix_2000
Don't stand so close to me by Fayth
Don’t Take the Girl by Alexial
Just for one day. by ancientgirl
The Song the Summer Sings by sshg316
1. Severus managed to Apparate safely back to Grimmauld Place after the meeting, his head spinning and his guts churning. It was later than he realised, and he lurched through the door, covered in his own waste and almost sobbing with humiliation. He didn’t really remember why he’d chosen to return here, except it was closer, and he doubted he’d make it back into the castle without splinching seven shades of shit out of himself. Navigating to Grimmauld had cost him every ounce of his remaining strength. He staggered into the library, just as his stomach emptied. He vomited on the carpet and himself, pitching forward, unable to right himself before he fell in the pool of his own sick.
Severus lay on the stinking carpet, whispering the prayers he prayed when still a lonely and sad first year at Hogwarts. Please, he prayed, let me die. I don’t want to live anymore. It hurts. I want to go home. I want my grandmother. The thought of Black or Potter, or anyone for that matter, seeing him like this was enough to make him vomit again. How the fucking mighty have fallen,, he thought, wiping snot from his face.
Surely, he’d endured everything a wizard should be forced to endure. Surely, by now, he had paid for his sins. His muscles were cramping painfully, his joints were filled with ground glass, his bowels were fluxed and bloody. Tears of pain and degradation streamed down his face, and when he looked up and saw the white, shocked face of Hermione Granger staring down at him, her face full of pity and horror, he grew angry and bellowed, “Get out of my sight, Granger!”
Only he didn’t. He didn’t have the strength to whisper, much less bellow, and anger used too much energy. The sound came out little more than a whimper and unmanned him so much he pounded his fist on the carpet in mortification. The action snapped the girl out of her shock, and she rushed to his side, heedless of the filth that covered him and the floor beneath him. She knelt beside him and placed a gentle, shaking hand on his cheek, which was bright red and burning with curse fever. She whispered, “It’s alright, Professor. I’ll help you. Just try to stay awake.
2. Yes, it’s possible that the evil Potions master is falling for a student. A mere slip of a girl who imbues me with such conflicting sensations that Monday’s double potions class becomes a trial of fire as my head battles my emotions whilst my body has other ideas.
I’d like to place the blame squarely at her feet for walking around all summer at the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix in short, tight outfits that made me see her as more than the know-it-all Gryffindor I had come to respect and admire. That was no body of a child.
She was all woman.
If it had been a bad case of lust I could have dealt with it. But the girl had to have a sparkling personality, mature outlook and the most brilliant mind to match.
In the few conversations that I managed to have with her she impressed upon me the depth of both her knowledge and her understanding. She almost equals me in wit and given time could surpass my own intelligence. It was an intoxicating thought and I was… am besotted.
But a crush, nay awareness, on my part could have been suppressed if not for her own interest in me.
For a woman of her calibre to look at me like she’d like to devour me, it’s unthinkable.
It’s happening again.
3. Not to say that it was all sunshine and roses. Oh, no. Severus Snape was still a snide, sarcastic bastard, and she was, in his words, still “an insufferable know-it-all.” They were as likely to be found arguing heatedly over the latest research in Potions Quarterly as they were to be quietly sitting together in the library, reading. That was what made their – dare she think it? – relationship so special to her. They accepted each other as they were, proverbial warts, greasy hair, buckteeth and all.
After everything they had been through together, she had hoped that he might feel at least a little something for her, and she wanted to know what that something was before it was too late. Instead, her question had caused him to flee from her, and she had most likely ruined whatever was between them.
Sighing to herself, she decided she deserved another drink. As she stood to head over to the bar, a shadow fell across the table. She looked up to see who would disturb her private little sanctuary, only to find herself staring into the obsidian eyes of the very man she was trying to avoid. Suddenly anxious, she sat down once more.
Severus Snape stared at her intensely, his eyes searching her face. After a long moment, he straightened himself to full height, bowed slightly and offered her his hand.
“Dance with me,” he softly commanded.
“P-pardon?” she stuttered, her eyes wide in confusion.
“You wished to know my feelings toward you. If that is still your … desire,” he murmured, “then dance with me.”
4. “Tomorrow…” gasped Lucus as he held Severus’ robes in his fist. “They are coming tomorrow.” As he breathed his last breath he looked towards his son Draco, who had been in his second year of internship with Professor Snape, and told him to make him proud and live a long and happy life.
Being given only a moment to mourn the life of one of his few true friends, Severus along with the rest of the school began preparations for the battle that would take place on the school grounds.
Many students were sent to their dormitories. All of the first through fifth years would be kept in a large bunker built just below the Chamber Of Secrets. The rest of the students were given instruction and a plan of action as to where they would be and what they would be expected to do. It had been known for quite some time now that the final battle would be held at Hogwarts, but only now did they know it was just beyond their threshold.
In the dungeons, Severus allowed himself one last pleasure. It was almost a year ago that very evening when Hermione had first come to him. After spending her first year of internship flirting with him, she had worked up the courage that dark stormy night to approach him and finally tell him just what she wanted from him. It amused him at the time that she rambled on needlessly about how well they would get along together. Little did she know that he needed little prompting by her, since he had already suspected her feelings. After much soul-searching on his part, he allowed her into his life and his heart.
5. Severus found himself almost sneering as he heard the word "smitten", feeling as if the girl was already asking for too much already. You already occupy too much of my thoughts. But as the song went on and she started to falter, mimicking the singer’s pattern into almost fragmented thoughts and wants, he could feel himself soften as he thought about last night and how hurt her voice had sounded that he had used her and left her.
He slowly and softly pushed the door open further to watch as she did a half shuffle, between the different bookshelves and table dusting things as she went. He could already see that she had cleaned quite a bit from the shining windows to the freshly swept fire-place. He smiled as she turned her head and he caught sight of her nose with smeared with a bit of soot. She really can be too adorable sometimes...wait...did I just use the word adorable? Severus frowned at the thought as he ducked back into the hall when she turned around suddenly to toss a bit of trash into a bin.
Hermione smiled as she carelessly aimed the wadded up piece of paper. She had seen the movement from the hall and could only figure it was Severus again watching her. Him being there has to be a good sign, she thought. Maybe I’ll have a repeat performance of last night even. Her eyebrows crinkled together as she thought she had caught a glimpse of him frowning, but she wasn’t sure. Or maybe not...
6. Wrote my name in silver sands.
The classroom door had no sooner slipped shut, than the door to the Potions Master’s office swung wide. “Come in Miss Granger. Take a seat.” Severus gestured to the chair opposite his own. Sitting in the middle of the desk was an hourglass shaped bowl, filled with some sort of silver sand.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked.
“It is a pensieve, a sort of recording device for the memories of its owner,” she replied evenly, not wanting to give away her confusion.
“Very good. This pensieve has been altered as well. It also allows me to see what the students of this school are doing, just by speaking their name into it. Obviously, it has been very useful in keeping an eye on the goings on of my Slytherin House.”
Hermione smiled at this. No, the Slytherin’s were not a house that could be trusted to their own devices. Someone responsible had to keep an eye on them.
“It has been decided that some of the memories contained in this pensieve are to be shared with you. You are aware of the animosity that surrounds Sirius Black and myself, as well as the history behind it??” he quizzed.
“Very well then. Go to it girl. I’m sure you are aware of how this works.”
7. Severus opened his eyes, and he gasped as awareness flooded his senses. There was excruciating pain, and there was blood. He could feel it trickling down the side of his neck, and the throb of his veins pulsing as they pumped his life from him. His fingers probed the wound a little, and he squeezed his eyes closed, panting slightly. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and upper lip, and with strength he didn’t know he had, he started to drag himself from the room and down the narrow tunnel.
It took him almost twenty minutes before he reached the entrance, and he paused to feel the air caress his cheeks. He could hear the sound of battle in the distance, but he knew he could do nothing to help in his current state. Trembling, he dragged himself to his feet, swaying for a moment, before taking a slow, deep breath. He focussed all of his energy on his destination and Apparated directly into the bedroom of the cottage.
Quickly, with trembling hands, he removed the stoppers from the potions he had lined up beside the bed and swallowed them. He sank down onto the mattress gratefully and rested his head on the pillow. His nostrils picked up the fragrance of Hermione’s shampoo, and as he closed his eyes, her face swam in front of him, and he smiled sadly. He hoped he would be able to wake from the sleep washing over him. And he hoped she would be there if he did.
8. “Come now Severus, stop acting like a child. Hermione has not been a student of yours for years, and even you have to admit that living and seeing the world changes people. Give her a chance before refusing flat out.”
“Besides, I believe she is already here to accept my offer.”
“You mean you already asked her?! Before coming to me?”
“Really Severus, squeaking does not become you. Neither does that particular shade of red suite your face. As I told you before, you will be receiving an assistant, and since Hermione was the most qualified I really thought there would be no argument.”
A knock at the door interrupted Severus before he could complete whatever protest he had thought of to try and escape the situation.
“Hello Headmaster, Professor Snape. I hope I am not interrupting anything?”
“Of course not my dear. And since you are no longer a student, it is of course Albus. And since you will be spending much time with Severus here, I believe you can call his Severus as well.”
“Severus, please do not shout at me.
9. She watched as all her friends coupled up on the dance floor and began to happily sway to the beautiful violins that were playing.
It seemed like every pair out on the dance floor knew the exact rhythm and lyrics. They clutched each other and sang along as if they truly felt what the singer was pleading.
How could they understand his plight? They have no concept! Like they could even feel anything that deep and true!
The tears were streaming from her eyes from the sheer desperation in the singers voice intertwined with her own lonely frustration.
Suddenly, she wasn’t alone at her table. Severus Snape looked at her questioningly as he handed her his handkerchief.
“Thank you…” she said quietly as she wiped at the tracks on her cheeks.
“Surely, you don’t regret leaving him?” her companion asked boldly.
“What? No! It’s… it’s the song.”
“What is the problem with it? It doesn’t appear to be too terribly offensive.”
Hermione turned sharply to look Snape in the eyes. “Don’t you listen to lyrics, Mr. Snape?”
10. A moment later she snapped to attention (Oh gods, what was I thinking? What did he just ask us?!) as she realized he had kept talking, and she had missed a question. She, Hermione Granger, the know-it-all, had missed a question. Her hand, shooting up as if by reflex, paused midway to make a show of scratching the tip of her nose. Looking around the room for a victim, at first pretending as usual to ignore her, Snape homed in on her momentary lapse like a bird of prey homing in on a wounded mouse. He spotted, he stooped, and he attacked.
“Miss... Granger,” he intoned, coming to a halt in front of her worktable.
“I didn’t have my hand up, Professor,” Hermione attempted, regretting the words even as they passed her lips. From two tables over, she heard Draco Malfoy snicker openly. She couldn’t fathom the look on Snape’s face, but anticipated the worst. Her heart pounded, but she proudly raised her chin and met his eyes. And passed a very odd moment, as she put a word to the strange look, the same look she had seen on the professor’s thin, drawn, face in the study at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. But why would the snarky Potions master look… wistful? The moment passed, and his next words were as waspish as ever.
“Do you know the answer, Miss Granger, regardless of whether you saw fit to raise your eager little hand?”
“Sir, I didn’t hear the question,” she admitted bravely, still holding her head up. She heard the collective gasp as the other students registered their shock. Snape opened his mouth and started to speak, then stopped. After another thoughtful moment, he tilted his head to the side and contemplated her with once-again fathomless black eyes as he delivered his sentence.
“Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. And for your inattentiveness, in place of detention, I’m going to give you something much worse.” The silence in the room was palpable, the students all straining to hear what Snape would consider worse than one of his detentions.
“Yes, Professor?” Hermione squeaked, her nerves betraying her.
“I’m not going to tell you what the question was,” he said silkily, a tiny, cruel smile curving his lips. “And what’s more, I will give a detention to the first student I find has told Miss Granger, now or at any time, what the question was. Class dismissed.”