Summer Exchange Quiz
Summer Exchange Quiz
The SS/HG Exchange… it's a fabulous thing. An entire month's worth of completed stories. It truly is fangirl heaven. Since the deadline for the winter round of the exchange is today, I thought we should take a few minutes to remember all the wonderful exchange stories gifted to us this past summer. Ta da!!!
Match the story to the quote:
Bedtime Stories by Darth_Kittius
Best Laid Plans by mMyrtle
Carpe Diem by Clare009
RSVP by Whitemunin & Scatteredlogic
If The Shoe Fits by Ginny_Weasley31
Satisfaction by Fandomme
What Yet Remains by Bethbethbeth
The Bowtrucle War by Melisande88
Country Rose by Isis and Neit
Hunting of the Snark by Poe_momm
Strengths and Weaknesses by Ianthe_Waiting
Bound to Silence by Cecelle
Sanctuaryby warded_Portal
1. I am unable to say that I am pleased to meet him. “Hello,” I stammer instead.
“Good evening,” he replies. It is an arresting voice. I think of vampires and enthralled victims, bloody necks. “I take it from your horrified expression,” he adds with a flash of black humor and a twist of the lips, “that my reputation precedes me.”
“Is it that obvious?” I mutter, slumping into the armchair. Hermione has gripped his arm and is maneuvering him to the loveseat, and I have only a second to note the queasy feeling in my stomach at the thought of love before he laughs. More of a snort than a laugh, really. Bitter.
“It was either that, or you were thinking I'm more than just - ah - 'a bit older.' Really, Hermione.”
“Yes, yes, I was a bloody coward, I admit it,” she says ruefully, ducking her head.
2. "So, husband, look what I found when I was doing my spring cleaning today. It was in one of the downstairs cupboards. Would you care to explain how it came to be there?"
His mind whirled. He knew that lying to her was out of the question; the dilemma was exactly how much of the truth to give her. He finally settled on the evasive answer, "It came to be there because I placed it there." With a further arched brow he challenged her to push the argument.
She flicked her eyebrow up to mirror his and she fixed him with a cold, hard glare. "I ask because this box appears to be a wedding present. A wedding present to us from one of my best friends. A wedding present that I never knew existed." She paused, clearly hoping he would explain why he had hidden away a gift meant for them both. When he did not, she continued, "I specifically recall Ron continuing to pepper me with questions about how I liked his gift.
3. A nearby swan ice sculpture fluttered crystalline wings with a faint crackling sound, then bent its long neck to preen frozen feathers.
Severus made a disgusted noise and gestured around the room. "Should we ever marry, we will not engage in this sort of ludicrous spectacle."
"Why should we ever marry?" Hermione asked, amused.
"You've never considered it? Even after a decade of non-marital bliss?"
"Is that what you call it?" She grinned. "The sex is certainly first-rate, but you still sometimes forget you own a toothbrush."
He arched an eyebrow. "A complaint that has never arisen when I have my face buried between your--"
4. The presence of the Malfoys in my home led to a number of changes in my life. Most notably, I needed to shop for food far more frequently than I had ever imagined possible. Between Lucius’ preference for high-end delectables and Draco’s seemingly insatiable appetite for food of any kind, I had had to take some rather unorthodox measures for ensuring a steady supply of provisions. At least Lucius was gracious enough to fund my foraging expeditions.
I had been careful over the years to ensure that I was not known in town, giving me some freedom to venture to the local market. Going in to any local shop more than once every few months, however, might have been noticed and commented upon. Even today, this tired, run-down mill town is not the sort to see anything other than the occasional lost tourist.
5. "Have I ever lied to you, Auror Granger?"
"More than once," she'd admonished playfully, watching perplexed as he'd passed by what should have been his bedroom door.
"About anything that mattered?"
Her brow had furrowed as they approached the end of the hall. He'd drawn his wand and waved it at the ceiling. "I reserve my judgement. Isn't that the --?" The attic stairs unfolded themselves from the hole in plasterwork. "Oh."
"I keep it up here. It had been in my family for centuries until my mother was forced to sell it, no doubt to pay my father's gambling debts. I've only recently recovered it, thanks to the diligent research of your colleagues." His lips had narrowed into a fine line as he'd handed her up the ladder. "It's on your left. I believe it was once enchanted but the magic has long since faded from it."
Hermione had felt her world tilt slightly. Not a tender bit of lovemaking. Not a shag. Not even a snog on the couch. He'd wanted to show her something work related. He'd cast Lumos behind her and her eyes had fallen on the massive dark form in the corner of the attic. An enchanted fucking bed. And to top things off, she'd felt the tug of Darkness the moment she'd laid a hand on it.
Things went rapidly downhill thereafter.
6. I hadn't seen my first assistant in years - and since that time, I had not once had any reason to think about her besides the small snippets of information I may have inadvertently garnered about her life from the Prophet or other such publications. Her name had come up rather a number of times in the last ten or more years, but there had been no reason to dwell further upon her beyond that. Her invitation, and seeing the fresh ink that had so recently flowed from her hand, had surprised me, and my reaction to it disturbed me. How was it that this simple letter could pique my interest more than anything I had seen in print?
At first, I considered simply putting the note aside, together with my curiosity, and letting the whole affair slide. But, I felt it rude not to at least reply, after all, she had been a good assistant - one of the best. In fact, I had never managed to find a decent replacement for her after she left.
7. According to Withers, the shackle was an ingenious innovation, one of the best things to come out of Magical Law Enforcement in centuries. To Hermione, it looked positively medieval.
Charmed with an unbreakable curse, designed to kill him instantaneously if he left the equally charmed perimeter of his walls, it was meant to keep the wizarding world safe from dangerous criminals like Snape.
Also according to Withers, it was an invention that offered an all round better deal for everyone concerned. On the one hand, it enabled Snape repay at least part of his debt to society, while on the other providing the Ministry with a much more humane solution to incarceration than guarding the prisoner in Azkaban.
That much was probably true. As bleak as this place was, it had to be better than some cold, damp cell in Azkaban. The idea of the wizard prison had always made her uncomfortable.
When at a wave of her wand the crate settled gently on the table in front of him, he looked up at her with a sneer. “I would offer you tea, but it appears I haven’t got any. Pity. I suppose having a cozy chat reminiscing about the good old days shall have to wait.”
8. After five minutes in the sunshine, however, Hermione found herself relaxing and smiling.
"The Chameleon rose. It's the only one on the list of indigenous magical plants of Britain that I haven't seen before." Neville had a thick book, much like her father's birding book, and he ticked off each flower he'd seen in the wild. He'd told Hermione that the greenhouse specimens didn't count. That was cheating, apparently.
Hermione frowned slightly. "That sounds familiar, somehow," she said, not quite placing the name in any particular context yet.
"They're very rare. They're supposed to change colour according to your mood, you know. Professor Sprout doesn't even have one. I reckoned this was the best place to take my chances."
Hermione smiled when she finally tapped the last piece of the puzzle into place. "It sounds beautiful," she said, wondering how a witch or wizard had ended up on the writing team for Star Trek.
9. "That I'm an ungrateful bastard and that it would serve me right if Weasley told me to get fucked."
"You know, Severus, it seems to me," she said quietly, "that you don't need any help chastising yourself. However, if you think you deserve to 'get fucked,' I happen to know somebody who'd be perfectly willing to help you out with that."
For a minute Severus just scowled at his fingernails, then he looked up at Hermione. "Precisely how hard are you trying not to laugh at me at this moment?" he asked.
"Oh, I'd say quite hard," she replied, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
He shook his head. "Could you explain exactly what it is that I like about you?"
"Well," said Hermione, a very serious expression on her face. "Rumour has it I'm good in bed."
"You certainly don't expect me to simply accept your word for that, do you?" Severus asked, smirking a bit.
"Of course not," said Hermione. "No researcher worth his salt would."
"Well then," said Severus, rising from his chair and extending his arm to Hermione. "It looks like you're in for a long night of assisting me in my research."
10. There, sitting on the table, was a sight which would have rendered her speechless had there been someone else in the room with whom to converse. Hermione walked over to the table and examined the items more closely. Sitting prominently in front of everything else was an invitation to a ball, which looked like the one she’d discarded weeks ago without another thought after being told she’d not have the time off to rest. She picked it up and shook her head with slight confusion. The ball wasn’t until New Year’s Eve, but this invitation clearly stated that there was a ball tonight-the weekend before Halloween.
Not even having the energy to try to figure that one out, Hermione placed it back on the table. It didn’t matter when the ball was, she was still so exhausted that she was struggling to keep her eyes open and her legs ached even when she was just standing there.
The SS/HG Exchange… it's a fabulous thing. An entire month's worth of completed stories. It truly is fangirl heaven. Since the deadline for the winter round of the exchange is today, I thought we should take a few minutes to remember all the wonderful exchange stories gifted to us this past summer. Ta da!!!
Match the story to the quote:
Bedtime Stories by Darth_Kittius
Best Laid Plans by mMyrtle
Carpe Diem by Clare009
RSVP by Whitemunin & Scatteredlogic
If The Shoe Fits by Ginny_Weasley31
Satisfaction by Fandomme
What Yet Remains by Bethbethbeth
The Bowtrucle War by Melisande88
Country Rose by Isis and Neit
Hunting of the Snark by Poe_momm
Strengths and Weaknesses by Ianthe_Waiting
Bound to Silence by Cecelle
Sanctuaryby warded_Portal
1. I am unable to say that I am pleased to meet him. “Hello,” I stammer instead.
“Good evening,” he replies. It is an arresting voice. I think of vampires and enthralled victims, bloody necks. “I take it from your horrified expression,” he adds with a flash of black humor and a twist of the lips, “that my reputation precedes me.”
“Is it that obvious?” I mutter, slumping into the armchair. Hermione has gripped his arm and is maneuvering him to the loveseat, and I have only a second to note the queasy feeling in my stomach at the thought of love before he laughs. More of a snort than a laugh, really. Bitter.
“It was either that, or you were thinking I'm more than just - ah - 'a bit older.' Really, Hermione.”
“Yes, yes, I was a bloody coward, I admit it,” she says ruefully, ducking her head.
2. "So, husband, look what I found when I was doing my spring cleaning today. It was in one of the downstairs cupboards. Would you care to explain how it came to be there?"
His mind whirled. He knew that lying to her was out of the question; the dilemma was exactly how much of the truth to give her. He finally settled on the evasive answer, "It came to be there because I placed it there." With a further arched brow he challenged her to push the argument.
She flicked her eyebrow up to mirror his and she fixed him with a cold, hard glare. "I ask because this box appears to be a wedding present. A wedding present to us from one of my best friends. A wedding present that I never knew existed." She paused, clearly hoping he would explain why he had hidden away a gift meant for them both. When he did not, she continued, "I specifically recall Ron continuing to pepper me with questions about how I liked his gift.
3. A nearby swan ice sculpture fluttered crystalline wings with a faint crackling sound, then bent its long neck to preen frozen feathers.
Severus made a disgusted noise and gestured around the room. "Should we ever marry, we will not engage in this sort of ludicrous spectacle."
"Why should we ever marry?" Hermione asked, amused.
"You've never considered it? Even after a decade of non-marital bliss?"
"Is that what you call it?" She grinned. "The sex is certainly first-rate, but you still sometimes forget you own a toothbrush."
He arched an eyebrow. "A complaint that has never arisen when I have my face buried between your--"
4. The presence of the Malfoys in my home led to a number of changes in my life. Most notably, I needed to shop for food far more frequently than I had ever imagined possible. Between Lucius’ preference for high-end delectables and Draco’s seemingly insatiable appetite for food of any kind, I had had to take some rather unorthodox measures for ensuring a steady supply of provisions. At least Lucius was gracious enough to fund my foraging expeditions.
I had been careful over the years to ensure that I was not known in town, giving me some freedom to venture to the local market. Going in to any local shop more than once every few months, however, might have been noticed and commented upon. Even today, this tired, run-down mill town is not the sort to see anything other than the occasional lost tourist.
5. "Have I ever lied to you, Auror Granger?"
"More than once," she'd admonished playfully, watching perplexed as he'd passed by what should have been his bedroom door.
"About anything that mattered?"
Her brow had furrowed as they approached the end of the hall. He'd drawn his wand and waved it at the ceiling. "I reserve my judgement. Isn't that the --?" The attic stairs unfolded themselves from the hole in plasterwork. "Oh."
"I keep it up here. It had been in my family for centuries until my mother was forced to sell it, no doubt to pay my father's gambling debts. I've only recently recovered it, thanks to the diligent research of your colleagues." His lips had narrowed into a fine line as he'd handed her up the ladder. "It's on your left. I believe it was once enchanted but the magic has long since faded from it."
Hermione had felt her world tilt slightly. Not a tender bit of lovemaking. Not a shag. Not even a snog on the couch. He'd wanted to show her something work related. He'd cast Lumos behind her and her eyes had fallen on the massive dark form in the corner of the attic. An enchanted fucking bed. And to top things off, she'd felt the tug of Darkness the moment she'd laid a hand on it.
Things went rapidly downhill thereafter.
6. I hadn't seen my first assistant in years - and since that time, I had not once had any reason to think about her besides the small snippets of information I may have inadvertently garnered about her life from the Prophet or other such publications. Her name had come up rather a number of times in the last ten or more years, but there had been no reason to dwell further upon her beyond that. Her invitation, and seeing the fresh ink that had so recently flowed from her hand, had surprised me, and my reaction to it disturbed me. How was it that this simple letter could pique my interest more than anything I had seen in print?
At first, I considered simply putting the note aside, together with my curiosity, and letting the whole affair slide. But, I felt it rude not to at least reply, after all, she had been a good assistant - one of the best. In fact, I had never managed to find a decent replacement for her after she left.
7. According to Withers, the shackle was an ingenious innovation, one of the best things to come out of Magical Law Enforcement in centuries. To Hermione, it looked positively medieval.
Charmed with an unbreakable curse, designed to kill him instantaneously if he left the equally charmed perimeter of his walls, it was meant to keep the wizarding world safe from dangerous criminals like Snape.
Also according to Withers, it was an invention that offered an all round better deal for everyone concerned. On the one hand, it enabled Snape repay at least part of his debt to society, while on the other providing the Ministry with a much more humane solution to incarceration than guarding the prisoner in Azkaban.
That much was probably true. As bleak as this place was, it had to be better than some cold, damp cell in Azkaban. The idea of the wizard prison had always made her uncomfortable.
When at a wave of her wand the crate settled gently on the table in front of him, he looked up at her with a sneer. “I would offer you tea, but it appears I haven’t got any. Pity. I suppose having a cozy chat reminiscing about the good old days shall have to wait.”
8. After five minutes in the sunshine, however, Hermione found herself relaxing and smiling.
"The Chameleon rose. It's the only one on the list of indigenous magical plants of Britain that I haven't seen before." Neville had a thick book, much like her father's birding book, and he ticked off each flower he'd seen in the wild. He'd told Hermione that the greenhouse specimens didn't count. That was cheating, apparently.
Hermione frowned slightly. "That sounds familiar, somehow," she said, not quite placing the name in any particular context yet.
"They're very rare. They're supposed to change colour according to your mood, you know. Professor Sprout doesn't even have one. I reckoned this was the best place to take my chances."
Hermione smiled when she finally tapped the last piece of the puzzle into place. "It sounds beautiful," she said, wondering how a witch or wizard had ended up on the writing team for Star Trek.
9. "That I'm an ungrateful bastard and that it would serve me right if Weasley told me to get fucked."
"You know, Severus, it seems to me," she said quietly, "that you don't need any help chastising yourself. However, if you think you deserve to 'get fucked,' I happen to know somebody who'd be perfectly willing to help you out with that."
For a minute Severus just scowled at his fingernails, then he looked up at Hermione. "Precisely how hard are you trying not to laugh at me at this moment?" he asked.
"Oh, I'd say quite hard," she replied, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
He shook his head. "Could you explain exactly what it is that I like about you?"
"Well," said Hermione, a very serious expression on her face. "Rumour has it I'm good in bed."
"You certainly don't expect me to simply accept your word for that, do you?" Severus asked, smirking a bit.
"Of course not," said Hermione. "No researcher worth his salt would."
"Well then," said Severus, rising from his chair and extending his arm to Hermione. "It looks like you're in for a long night of assisting me in my research."
10. There, sitting on the table, was a sight which would have rendered her speechless had there been someone else in the room with whom to converse. Hermione walked over to the table and examined the items more closely. Sitting prominently in front of everything else was an invitation to a ball, which looked like the one she’d discarded weeks ago without another thought after being told she’d not have the time off to rest. She picked it up and shook her head with slight confusion. The ball wasn’t until New Year’s Eve, but this invitation clearly stated that there was a ball tonight-the weekend before Halloween.
Not even having the energy to try to figure that one out, Hermione placed it back on the table. It didn’t matter when the ball was, she was still so exhausted that she was struggling to keep her eyes open and her legs ached even when she was just standing there.