Grimmauld Place
On last week's Quiz Poll Malfoy Manor won by 1 vote. It seems only fair that the second place finisher should be posted, so this week we are visiting Grimmauld Place. Prepare yourself for some interesting times in the Black family home better know as the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix!
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 Summer at 12 Grimmauld Place by katmd
Solitaire by snarkypants
A Walking Shadow by ariadne1
The Price of Madness by plaidpooka
Gentle Hands by ConstantComment aka tealeaf523
Boomerang by ubiquirk
What It Is by selinabln
Quite A Surprise At Grimmauld Place by beaweasley2
Home by ravine aka word_wanderer
The Number Twelve House Elf Detective Agency by gingertart50
Soothing Hands by notsosaintly
Temptations and Passions by lux_astraea
1. She flinched at the feel of his wand on her throat. Warmth and relief soon followed. A fleeting touch on her cheek.
With a flick of his wand, he lit the lamp on the table.
She massaged her throat. "Thank you."
His eyes glittered, and he nodded. "It was the least I could do."
"True, since you were the one who caused it to begin with." She frowned. "I assume you have my wand?"
He nodded. And so it starts.
She stood, rubbing her hands on her jeans, and drew a deep breath. "How could you?"
"That is a rather a broad question."
"With several follow-ups."
He waited.
"Fine. I'm not going to have this conversation in a dirty kitchen. I am going to the library, Severus Snape. Try not to hex me on my way out the door." Tossing her hair, she turned and stalked out.
Mrs. Black's portrait started shrieking. "Mudblood filth! Besmirching the halls of my House! Freakish contagion!"
From the kitchen, Snape heard Hermione snap, "Oh shut it, you foul-mouthed pretext!"
Snape raised an eyebrow. Pretext?
Mrs. Black continued her tirade, and Snape heard a distinct whump followed by a sudden silence that, even from where he sat, felt decidedly embarrassed. Then...
"Ow."
Despite himself, Severus Snape chuckled. Rising stiffly, he headed for the library.
2. "Miss Marple," Hermione said, walking along the row of elves who stood to attention in the huge, gloomy cavern of the kitchen. "Is it your turn to cook today?"
"Yes, Miss Hermione."
"Okay. Kippy -"
"I is Doctor Watson!"
"Sorry, Watson. Please continue your search for Madam Fripperie. Have you tried her cousin's place in Truro yet?"
"I is going today."
"Fine." Hermione ticked a box on the form attached to her clipboard. "Sherlock, you have a list of Crup breeders; I want you to get hold of copies of pedigrees of the litters that they have bred in the last ten years and find out what colours the parents of the litters were, as well as the colours of their offspring. You don't have to mark down every detail, just say if they were black, brown, red and white, tan and white, or whatever." She ticked another box.
"Is I watching Mr Ramsbottom?" enquired the elf in the fedora.
"Yes, we need to find out if he's still in contact with Miss Pritchett."
"I is on it!" the elf squeaked happily. "I is intercepting the owls!"
"No," Hermione sighed, "that's against the law."
"Philip Marlowe ain't scared of no cops!"
3. Hermione Granger sat at the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, warming her hands with her mug of tea and staring blankly at the wall. She had been deep in thought, contemplating the Big Bang Theory and Reflexology, of all things, but now her mind drew a pleasant blank. That had been the purpose, anyway. It was enough to think about Voldemort all the time; sometimes it was better to not think at all where the megalomaniac was concerned. But of course, it wouldn’t be long before the un-thinking made your tea cold, and Hermione could not have that. She raised the mug to her lips, smelling orange, spice and plenty of sugar, only to promptly spill it all over her jumper at the sound in the hall.
She bolted to the doorway to see a dark cloaked figure being accosted by the phantom-Dumbledore.
“Severus Snape?” It boomed.
And the figure collapsed in bodily tremors, gasping for breath as if it had been knocked out of him.
Despite the fact that this was a man robed in Death Eater attire, despite the fact that she was to trust no one during these times, and despite the fact that she was scared for her life, Hermione felt her chest constrict painfully and strode towards the crumpled heap of dark cloth behind an unpleasant rendition of Dumbledore, post mortem. As she ran, she asked herself fleetingly WHY THE HELL no one had thought to remove the ghastly apparition months ago.
“I did not kill you, Professor Dumbledore,” she said quickly, and the vision burst into dust again as the word ‘kill’ passed her lips.
4. Severus awoke unpleasantly, but that was nothing particularly noteworthy.
He was sore. His back and arms and legs hurt, and his head felt as if he had challenged Hagrid to a drinking contest. Nothing terribly unusual, apart from the hung-over feeling.
He sat up slowly, dislodging an intensely sharp piece of wood from behind his back.
He heard a low keening sound, and wondered distractedly if Poppy had challenged Hagrid to a drinking match. She sang--dreadfully--when pissed, as the entire staff had learnt to their mingled annoyance and amusement several years ago.
The sound continued. Poppy--if that’s who it was--was doing a fair impersonation of an injured Kneazle. He shook his head, squinting into the gloom.
It took him a while to figure out where he was. He usually relied heavily on his sensitive Potions Master’s nose to give him clues, but he had smacked his nose somehow, and couldn’t smell anything but blood...
12 Grimmauld Place. That’s where he was. And something had happened.
“Hello?” he called into the dust and darkness.
The voice whimpered a bit.
He tried to stand, but his legs didn’t want to hold him up. He felt as if he’d taken a few rounds of Cruciatus. Again, nothing new there.
He crawled toward the sound.
5. “All for Snape?”
“All for Snape.”
Ron stares at the look of determination on Harry’s face and tries to think of what to say. He’s saved from having to, as so often happens, by Hermione.
“Harry.” She shifts to the edge of the settee and leans forward to place a hand on Harry’s arm. “I know Snape was on our side, that he loved your mum, and that it must be very hard for you to think of how, well, mean and distrustful we were towards him at times. But -”
“But that’s not it.” Harry interrupts, words spewing out of him in a fumbling rush. “Well, that’s part of it, but that’s not the big it. It’s that he never had a life … a good life. He never got to have friends or have fun or … any of that stuff. It’s like what I had before Hogwarts, but that’s all he had for his whole life. And … and I want him to have something more, something like you lot and Hogwarts and the Order and everyone have given me.”
Hermione gives Harry’s arm a pat. “That’s lovely.”
Ron’s not sure it’s lovely, but he’s heard stuff like this from a suddenly mature Bill and can recognize full-on adult talk now even when it comes from an unexpected source. “Wow, mate - you really went and grew up this past year.”
Harry grins. “Dying will do that to you.”
Everyone eases back into their seats, the air of Grimmauld Place’s drawing room lightening.
“So tell us about the Time-Boomerang - I still want to know how it works.”
6. In the semi-darkness of Grimmauld Place, Hermione Granger sat vigil. One of the couches was transfigured into a soft bed that conformed exactly to the still figure upon it. She kept a damp flannel in hand. A bowl of cool water sat next to her, its contents red-tinged.
When she dabbed at his face again, his hand shot up to catch hers. His grip was both surprising and surprisingly strong.
“Shhhh,” she soothed, clasping her free hand over his and giving a gentle squeeze. “You’re safe, among friends. It’s all right.”
“My wand?” he whispered.
“What’s left is shattered.”
“Good.” The smirk was in his voice, even if the muscles of his face could not quite form it.
“Bloody foolish, interrupting the Priori Incantatem by jamming your wand into his temple,” she said.
“It worked?”
Hermione paused. “We don’t know. After you skewered him, Harry managed to throw a killing curse just before some large charge of magic erupted. Voldemort is dead, and his soul was drawn off to goodness only knows where. Harry’s not conscious, but otherwise appears uninjured.” She freed her hands and fussed with the flannel.
“Good,” he repeated.
“You absorbed one hell of a backlash.” He opened his eyes to meet her concerned gaze. “All that magic. We… We can’t heal the damage. I've tried everything I know. Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, that Healer from St. Mungo’s - We tried every spell we can think of, every remedy we can find. Even Tonks - ”
He croaked an interruption, “You didn't allow -”
7. The next morning they stood in the living room after breakfast and said their good byes. Hermione was struck by the realization that she was going to miss them very much. "I don't know why," she said as Ron pulled her into a tight embrace, "but I am really sad to see you go."
"'Course you are," Ron mumbled into her hair. "We'd feel the same way if we had to spend the next few weeks alone with that greasy git."
"Don't make the situation worse, Ron," Harry said from beside them. "Honestly Hermione, I doubt you'll even notice that Snape is around. You know he likes to make himself scarce. I'm sure he'll spend most of the time holed up in his room." He paused when Ron released Hermione and pulled her into his arms. "Anyway," he continued as he held Hermione, "I gave him permission to use one of the spare rooms as a potions lab. So, I'm fairly certain you won't see him at all, really."
Hermione sniffled against her best friend's chest. For some reason, the prospect of not seeing Snape at all made her feel worse, not better. "It'll all be fine," she said against Harry's chest.
"That's right," Harry said softly, planting a light kiss on the top of her head as he stepped out of the hug. "Everything will be fine."
Hermione smiled up at Harry. "All right," said Ron, "Let's get going. No use standing around."
"Right," said Harry, picking up his luggage. "See you later, Hermione," he said and disappeared with a gentle pop.
"All right, Hermione," said Ron. "You take care, and don't let Snape use my mug, all right? The git might break it on purpose or something."
"Ok, Ron," Hermione nodded, grinning at him. He smiled back before disapparating with a pop much louder than Harry's.
And so, Hermione Granger found herself to be standing in the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place feeling more alone than she had in her entire life.
8. “The good thing about living here - the books - all those books. Even if I have to have kitchen duty, I still get the library to myself,” Hermione mumbled as she carried the dirty dishes to the sink. As usual, Ron had ditched out as soon as Mrs. Weasley mentioned kitchen duty, and Harry had been right on his heels. Therefore, she was alone in the kitchen. She turned around, started to collect the glasses, and felt a breeze pass her.
Turning, she saw nothing, but could have sworn something passed by her.
Shrugging, she returned to her chore, gathering the glasses and carrying them to the sink. As she set the glasses down, she was certain that she felt someone or something brush against her back.
Tuning, she only saw an empty kitchen.
She waited, listening for any sound that would give away Ron or Harry under the cloak, but the only sounds were the running water in the sink and the scratch of the scrub as it magically began to clean the dishes. Shrugging again, she picked up a sponge to wipe down the kitchen table. She nearly jumped as she felt cool hands slide under her skirt, and legs in wool trousers pin her to the table.
9. Arriving on the doorstep to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Hermione stood for a moment having second thoughts.
You have nowhere else to go! Her sensible side said loudly. You need this and Harry did say it's okay.
Another, more shy and retiring part of Hermione spoke up for once, arguing, But he's here! You're going to make an idiot of yourself!
She managed perfectly well while in school! her sensible side countered.
Yes, well, he's not a teacher anymore. He's actually 'attainable' now... Shy Hermione said. Perhaps her shy side had been spending too much time with her oft ignored, seductive, man-eating side...
Shaking her head at the thoughts running through her mind, Hermione opened the door, the wards recognising her as she did. Stepping into the dark hallway, she closed the door behind her as quietly as she could to avoid waking up the stupid portrait of Mrs Black.
What she didn't see straight away because of the lack of light was that Severus Snape stood to one side of the hallway about halfway down, arms folded and an eyebrow raised in question. "You finally worked out how to open the door then," he said, making her jump in fright.
"Profes... Sir! You startled me! How did you know I was out there?" Hermione asked, intrigued and trying to cover her initial surprise.
He pointed to the door behind her as if it were obvious. "Modified Stealth Sensor Spell."
"Oh."
10. He was sitting in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place long after midnight, drinking a cup of hot Earl Grey. The house was quiet and already asleep. But for him, sleep was hard coming these days. The final battle was fast approaching; like a kind of herald for the things to come, the Weasley clock was already showing 'mortal peril' with all nine hands, although all family members were sleeping soundly upstairs.
Severus was stirring his tea, lost in thought. Potter wasn't ready yet; if he only knew more about the Dark Lord's plan. He had to work harder to prepare the boy and protect him and his friends. Work harder to protect Hermione.
Hermione.
Instantly he chided himself for allowing his thoughts to stray that way.
The loud slamming of the front door pulled him out of his pondering. Severus drew his wand out of his coat and spun towards the kitchen door. A bundle of honey brown hair stumbled into the room and rushed straight to the sink, her back turned to him.
"Granger, obviously you know how to make an entrance. But please try to enlighten me, why do you have to mimic a horde of giants so late after midnight?"
Thank Merlin you have returned safely.
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 Summer at 12 Grimmauld Place by katmd
Solitaire by snarkypants
A Walking Shadow by ariadne1
The Price of Madness by plaidpooka
Gentle Hands by ConstantComment aka tealeaf523
Boomerang by ubiquirk
What It Is by selinabln
Quite A Surprise At Grimmauld Place by beaweasley2
Home by ravine aka word_wanderer
The Number Twelve House Elf Detective Agency by gingertart50
Soothing Hands by notsosaintly
Temptations and Passions by lux_astraea
1. She flinched at the feel of his wand on her throat. Warmth and relief soon followed. A fleeting touch on her cheek.
With a flick of his wand, he lit the lamp on the table.
She massaged her throat. "Thank you."
His eyes glittered, and he nodded. "It was the least I could do."
"True, since you were the one who caused it to begin with." She frowned. "I assume you have my wand?"
He nodded. And so it starts.
She stood, rubbing her hands on her jeans, and drew a deep breath. "How could you?"
"That is a rather a broad question."
"With several follow-ups."
He waited.
"Fine. I'm not going to have this conversation in a dirty kitchen. I am going to the library, Severus Snape. Try not to hex me on my way out the door." Tossing her hair, she turned and stalked out.
Mrs. Black's portrait started shrieking. "Mudblood filth! Besmirching the halls of my House! Freakish contagion!"
From the kitchen, Snape heard Hermione snap, "Oh shut it, you foul-mouthed pretext!"
Snape raised an eyebrow. Pretext?
Mrs. Black continued her tirade, and Snape heard a distinct whump followed by a sudden silence that, even from where he sat, felt decidedly embarrassed. Then...
"Ow."
Despite himself, Severus Snape chuckled. Rising stiffly, he headed for the library.
2. "Miss Marple," Hermione said, walking along the row of elves who stood to attention in the huge, gloomy cavern of the kitchen. "Is it your turn to cook today?"
"Yes, Miss Hermione."
"Okay. Kippy -"
"I is Doctor Watson!"
"Sorry, Watson. Please continue your search for Madam Fripperie. Have you tried her cousin's place in Truro yet?"
"I is going today."
"Fine." Hermione ticked a box on the form attached to her clipboard. "Sherlock, you have a list of Crup breeders; I want you to get hold of copies of pedigrees of the litters that they have bred in the last ten years and find out what colours the parents of the litters were, as well as the colours of their offspring. You don't have to mark down every detail, just say if they were black, brown, red and white, tan and white, or whatever." She ticked another box.
"Is I watching Mr Ramsbottom?" enquired the elf in the fedora.
"Yes, we need to find out if he's still in contact with Miss Pritchett."
"I is on it!" the elf squeaked happily. "I is intercepting the owls!"
"No," Hermione sighed, "that's against the law."
"Philip Marlowe ain't scared of no cops!"
3. Hermione Granger sat at the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, warming her hands with her mug of tea and staring blankly at the wall. She had been deep in thought, contemplating the Big Bang Theory and Reflexology, of all things, but now her mind drew a pleasant blank. That had been the purpose, anyway. It was enough to think about Voldemort all the time; sometimes it was better to not think at all where the megalomaniac was concerned. But of course, it wouldn’t be long before the un-thinking made your tea cold, and Hermione could not have that. She raised the mug to her lips, smelling orange, spice and plenty of sugar, only to promptly spill it all over her jumper at the sound in the hall.
She bolted to the doorway to see a dark cloaked figure being accosted by the phantom-Dumbledore.
“Severus Snape?” It boomed.
And the figure collapsed in bodily tremors, gasping for breath as if it had been knocked out of him.
Despite the fact that this was a man robed in Death Eater attire, despite the fact that she was to trust no one during these times, and despite the fact that she was scared for her life, Hermione felt her chest constrict painfully and strode towards the crumpled heap of dark cloth behind an unpleasant rendition of Dumbledore, post mortem. As she ran, she asked herself fleetingly WHY THE HELL no one had thought to remove the ghastly apparition months ago.
“I did not kill you, Professor Dumbledore,” she said quickly, and the vision burst into dust again as the word ‘kill’ passed her lips.
4. Severus awoke unpleasantly, but that was nothing particularly noteworthy.
He was sore. His back and arms and legs hurt, and his head felt as if he had challenged Hagrid to a drinking contest. Nothing terribly unusual, apart from the hung-over feeling.
He sat up slowly, dislodging an intensely sharp piece of wood from behind his back.
He heard a low keening sound, and wondered distractedly if Poppy had challenged Hagrid to a drinking match. She sang--dreadfully--when pissed, as the entire staff had learnt to their mingled annoyance and amusement several years ago.
The sound continued. Poppy--if that’s who it was--was doing a fair impersonation of an injured Kneazle. He shook his head, squinting into the gloom.
It took him a while to figure out where he was. He usually relied heavily on his sensitive Potions Master’s nose to give him clues, but he had smacked his nose somehow, and couldn’t smell anything but blood...
12 Grimmauld Place. That’s where he was. And something had happened.
“Hello?” he called into the dust and darkness.
The voice whimpered a bit.
He tried to stand, but his legs didn’t want to hold him up. He felt as if he’d taken a few rounds of Cruciatus. Again, nothing new there.
He crawled toward the sound.
5. “All for Snape?”
“All for Snape.”
Ron stares at the look of determination on Harry’s face and tries to think of what to say. He’s saved from having to, as so often happens, by Hermione.
“Harry.” She shifts to the edge of the settee and leans forward to place a hand on Harry’s arm. “I know Snape was on our side, that he loved your mum, and that it must be very hard for you to think of how, well, mean and distrustful we were towards him at times. But -”
“But that’s not it.” Harry interrupts, words spewing out of him in a fumbling rush. “Well, that’s part of it, but that’s not the big it. It’s that he never had a life … a good life. He never got to have friends or have fun or … any of that stuff. It’s like what I had before Hogwarts, but that’s all he had for his whole life. And … and I want him to have something more, something like you lot and Hogwarts and the Order and everyone have given me.”
Hermione gives Harry’s arm a pat. “That’s lovely.”
Ron’s not sure it’s lovely, but he’s heard stuff like this from a suddenly mature Bill and can recognize full-on adult talk now even when it comes from an unexpected source. “Wow, mate - you really went and grew up this past year.”
Harry grins. “Dying will do that to you.”
Everyone eases back into their seats, the air of Grimmauld Place’s drawing room lightening.
“So tell us about the Time-Boomerang - I still want to know how it works.”
6. In the semi-darkness of Grimmauld Place, Hermione Granger sat vigil. One of the couches was transfigured into a soft bed that conformed exactly to the still figure upon it. She kept a damp flannel in hand. A bowl of cool water sat next to her, its contents red-tinged.
When she dabbed at his face again, his hand shot up to catch hers. His grip was both surprising and surprisingly strong.
“Shhhh,” she soothed, clasping her free hand over his and giving a gentle squeeze. “You’re safe, among friends. It’s all right.”
“My wand?” he whispered.
“What’s left is shattered.”
“Good.” The smirk was in his voice, even if the muscles of his face could not quite form it.
“Bloody foolish, interrupting the Priori Incantatem by jamming your wand into his temple,” she said.
“It worked?”
Hermione paused. “We don’t know. After you skewered him, Harry managed to throw a killing curse just before some large charge of magic erupted. Voldemort is dead, and his soul was drawn off to goodness only knows where. Harry’s not conscious, but otherwise appears uninjured.” She freed her hands and fussed with the flannel.
“Good,” he repeated.
“You absorbed one hell of a backlash.” He opened his eyes to meet her concerned gaze. “All that magic. We… We can’t heal the damage. I've tried everything I know. Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, that Healer from St. Mungo’s - We tried every spell we can think of, every remedy we can find. Even Tonks - ”
He croaked an interruption, “You didn't allow -”
7. The next morning they stood in the living room after breakfast and said their good byes. Hermione was struck by the realization that she was going to miss them very much. "I don't know why," she said as Ron pulled her into a tight embrace, "but I am really sad to see you go."
"'Course you are," Ron mumbled into her hair. "We'd feel the same way if we had to spend the next few weeks alone with that greasy git."
"Don't make the situation worse, Ron," Harry said from beside them. "Honestly Hermione, I doubt you'll even notice that Snape is around. You know he likes to make himself scarce. I'm sure he'll spend most of the time holed up in his room." He paused when Ron released Hermione and pulled her into his arms. "Anyway," he continued as he held Hermione, "I gave him permission to use one of the spare rooms as a potions lab. So, I'm fairly certain you won't see him at all, really."
Hermione sniffled against her best friend's chest. For some reason, the prospect of not seeing Snape at all made her feel worse, not better. "It'll all be fine," she said against Harry's chest.
"That's right," Harry said softly, planting a light kiss on the top of her head as he stepped out of the hug. "Everything will be fine."
Hermione smiled up at Harry. "All right," said Ron, "Let's get going. No use standing around."
"Right," said Harry, picking up his luggage. "See you later, Hermione," he said and disappeared with a gentle pop.
"All right, Hermione," said Ron. "You take care, and don't let Snape use my mug, all right? The git might break it on purpose or something."
"Ok, Ron," Hermione nodded, grinning at him. He smiled back before disapparating with a pop much louder than Harry's.
And so, Hermione Granger found herself to be standing in the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place feeling more alone than she had in her entire life.
8. “The good thing about living here - the books - all those books. Even if I have to have kitchen duty, I still get the library to myself,” Hermione mumbled as she carried the dirty dishes to the sink. As usual, Ron had ditched out as soon as Mrs. Weasley mentioned kitchen duty, and Harry had been right on his heels. Therefore, she was alone in the kitchen. She turned around, started to collect the glasses, and felt a breeze pass her.
Turning, she saw nothing, but could have sworn something passed by her.
Shrugging, she returned to her chore, gathering the glasses and carrying them to the sink. As she set the glasses down, she was certain that she felt someone or something brush against her back.
Tuning, she only saw an empty kitchen.
She waited, listening for any sound that would give away Ron or Harry under the cloak, but the only sounds were the running water in the sink and the scratch of the scrub as it magically began to clean the dishes. Shrugging again, she picked up a sponge to wipe down the kitchen table. She nearly jumped as she felt cool hands slide under her skirt, and legs in wool trousers pin her to the table.
9. Arriving on the doorstep to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Hermione stood for a moment having second thoughts.
You have nowhere else to go! Her sensible side said loudly. You need this and Harry did say it's okay.
Another, more shy and retiring part of Hermione spoke up for once, arguing, But he's here! You're going to make an idiot of yourself!
She managed perfectly well while in school! her sensible side countered.
Yes, well, he's not a teacher anymore. He's actually 'attainable' now... Shy Hermione said. Perhaps her shy side had been spending too much time with her oft ignored, seductive, man-eating side...
Shaking her head at the thoughts running through her mind, Hermione opened the door, the wards recognising her as she did. Stepping into the dark hallway, she closed the door behind her as quietly as she could to avoid waking up the stupid portrait of Mrs Black.
What she didn't see straight away because of the lack of light was that Severus Snape stood to one side of the hallway about halfway down, arms folded and an eyebrow raised in question. "You finally worked out how to open the door then," he said, making her jump in fright.
"Profes... Sir! You startled me! How did you know I was out there?" Hermione asked, intrigued and trying to cover her initial surprise.
He pointed to the door behind her as if it were obvious. "Modified Stealth Sensor Spell."
"Oh."
10. He was sitting in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place long after midnight, drinking a cup of hot Earl Grey. The house was quiet and already asleep. But for him, sleep was hard coming these days. The final battle was fast approaching; like a kind of herald for the things to come, the Weasley clock was already showing 'mortal peril' with all nine hands, although all family members were sleeping soundly upstairs.
Severus was stirring his tea, lost in thought. Potter wasn't ready yet; if he only knew more about the Dark Lord's plan. He had to work harder to prepare the boy and protect him and his friends. Work harder to protect Hermione.
Hermione.
Instantly he chided himself for allowing his thoughts to stray that way.
The loud slamming of the front door pulled him out of his pondering. Severus drew his wand out of his coat and spun towards the kitchen door. A bundle of honey brown hair stumbled into the room and rushed straight to the sink, her back turned to him.
"Granger, obviously you know how to make an entrance. But please try to enlighten me, why do you have to mimic a horde of giants so late after midnight?"
Thank Merlin you have returned safely.