Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday dear Potions Master!
Happy birthday to you!
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 EST. 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:
Happy Birthday, Professor by teddyradiator
Birthday Surprises by madeleone
Going to Extremes..redux by misstee123
Happy Birthday To You! by savine_snape
The Gift by acadia_elle
Just One Word by noodle
January 9th by lilyginny27
Happy Birthday Severus Snape! by madeleone
Five Kisses by Lariope aka lariopefic
Small Boxes by astopperindeath
Graveyard Birthday by LoveHGSS
The Subtle Art of Gifts by TheLadyofSlytherin
1. Severus cocked his head to one side, what was that noise? He felt his wards shift and heard someone or something stomping about outside his door. Wand in hand he stalked to the door and jerked it open.
There stood Hermione, covered head to foot in snow. It was embedded in her hat, her scarf, her mittens, her coat. Bits of her hair had escaped and there were icicles hanging from the ends. Her nose was red, her lips were blue and her teeth were chattering so hard she couldn't speak. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
“H...Hap...Hap...py B...B...Birthday S...S...Sev...verus.”
Jerking her inside he dragged her over by the fire and cast warming charms as he stripped off the cold, wet things. He conjured a warm foot bath, wrapped her in a blanket and brought her a mug of steaming tea.
Then the ranting started. “Are you fucking INSANE, woman? By all that's holy, what were you thinking? Did you bother to think at all? You could have frozen out there,” he roared.
She looked at him and said so quietly he could barely hear, “It's your birthday, Severus. I couldn't miss your birthday.”
2. The students had been back only a week and already Severus was ready to hex the blighters into the next school year.
He let the breath he’d been holding escape as his office door slammed behind him in a thoroughly therapeutic fashion, better to take his frustrations out on the rock-hard ancient oak rather than a soft-pliable student.
Matters were made worse by the fact that his wife had neglected to wish him a happy birthday that very morning. Hermione never forgot a significant date, something was afoot and he didn’t like it, no he didn’t like it one bit.
"Everything alright?" She asked, poking her head out of the bathroom.
"I'm not entirely certain."
"Severus, what on earth has you this rattled so ea-," she stopped as she looked over his shoulder. "Where did you get that?
To his surprise, it was delight that spread over her face.
"I don't understand," he said.
"Don't you like it?"
Severus couldn't argue that he didn't like it. Hermione without clothes was always a plus for him and that is exactly what the small watercolor was. A nude painting of the woman he was sleeping with. What he did not like was that fact that someone else saw her and was in a position to paint her.
"I like your part in this," he said. "But who painted it?"
4. The ninth day of January dawned peacefully enough – which did not reflect Hermione's emotional state at all. Close to tears, and not wanting to get out of bed and begin a special day with a failed mission, she watched her wizard return from the bathroom.
Clothed only in an aura of secretive mystery, he reinstated himself by her side.
Hermione wondered how he could turn such a simple act as getting into bed into one of predatory grace – with a tantalising touch of danger. And yet, there was something trying to hide behind his carefully neutral expression: something at odds with the easy confidence he usually displayed in her presence.
Easy confidence – and considerable pride in his physical prowess, Hermione could not help thinking. Entirely justifiable, too.
5. If Severus thought that The Draught of Living Death would keep her from throwing a birthday party in his honor...well, he was wrong. Dead wrong.
Hermione crossed her arms across her chest and glared at him.
Look at him, sleeping there with that white sheet covering him.
Pure, my arse.
She waved her wand over the sheet, turning it black.
Better. Not quite as angelic now.
Think, Hermione, think.
As if Death would dare claim someone as stubborn as Severus.
I dare you to breathe right now, you bastard.
On second thought, don't breathe.
Not just yet, anyway.
6. Severus looked at her, curiosity arching his left eyebrow. She sat perched on the corner of his desk, looking down at him expectantly. The box was small and could have held something as innocuous as a ring or cuff links… or a bezoar. He made a point to slowly remove the ribbon and to open the paper without ripping it, knowing it irritated her.
“Dammit, Severus, just open it!”
He ripped the paper off, tossed it aside, and finally opened the small box to find a small, glass bottle nestled inside of a bed of cotton. In it was a viscous, red liquid held in by a black stopper.
Severus was confused. “Blood? You got me blood, Hermione?”
7. Severus had run into Hermione Granger earlier. His mind was still on that odd encounter, as he asked his host impatiently, "Lucius, what is you want?"
"Why, to toast you, my dear friend, on your birthday. What else could I possibly want?"
"What else, indeed. I can clearly see that you are up to something. Get on with it!"
"I do have a gift for you," Lucius said, pausing dramatically, as he handed Severus a small tastefully wrapped package. "This box is what you have desired for years."
"I doubt that -"
"Doubt not, Severus. You see, for the past several months I have been wooing one Hermione Granger." Lucius allowed this proclamation to sink in just enough for Severus to begin to shake with rage.
8. It was a cold winter day. The wind had been blowing strongly all morning, kicking up the snow that had fallen the day before.
She stood upon the snow, staring at the headstone before her. She didn’t like to believe that he was dead. After all, his body had never been found so it wasn’t like there was anything buried in this plot. Yet, every year she would always visit his grave, sometimes in the spring, mostly in the summer. This year, her visit landed on his birthday.
“Oh, Severus, how you hated your birthday,” she whispered into the wind.
9. Fifty year old Hermione Granger walked through two wrought iron gates, her shoes sloshing in the heavy layer of melting snow. It was an unusually warm day in January; the sun was out but the compacted white snow was still up to her knees. She walked the main path, her eyes not swaying to the many monuments or statues around her. Her black cloak grazed along the top layer of snow as she turned off the path, making her way to the familiar spot.
Hermione produced her wand and wordlessly made a seven foot by three foot section of snow disappear. She unceremoniously dropped to the ground, her legs folding beneath her. She used her hand to brush snow off the large stone in front of her, taking care to make sure every white flake was gone. She ran her hand over the hard marble, breathing deeply through her nose, trying to keep the tears at bay.
"Happy birthday, darling," she said quietly, feeling awkward as her voice cut through the deafening silence.
Hermione caressed the headstone, sighing.
10. He, Severus decided, had drunk far too much before Hermione arrived. She was making no sense whatsoever; the deliciously form-fitting robes were doing his concentration in.
“Wait - Minerva told you WHAT?”
Flustered, Hermione said, “She told me you hated birthdays worse than the common cold?”
When she tried to stammer her apology about what happened during breakfast, she finished by explaining, “Professor McGonagall told me you hated any mention of your birthday, then Poppy told me you hated Chocolate."
Severus stared at Hermione, then growled, “Idiotic Gryffindor furball!”
This time, it was her turn to demand, "Excuse me?"