And Everything In Between

Part 5 Hormones

Half an hour later Snape was seated by the high table in an unusually poor mood and only vaguely aware of the Sorting Hat's new song. Next to him sat Titaea Terminus, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Severus knew her since old... more or less. She was the daughter of old friends to his parents. Terminus herself had always reminded him of a horrible, hard fought inflammation. Everything about her was big, without even having the decency to balance it out. Her eyes were something similar to those girls in his nephew's comics from China, Japan, wherever. Her hair was everywhere, her teeth were similar to those Granger had had before, the big puffy cheeks made him think of a hamster. Her lips covered at least half a quarter of her face, they always had even when she was younger. Now young was the last word to describe her.

Honestly, Dumbledore got more and more desperate every year.

First there was Quirrel, who aside from being somewhat of a psychopath and in league with Voldemort, had right from the start seemed one tiny step away from an emotional breakdown. Then came the obnoxious git Lockhart, followed by Lupin. The feelings he had for those two were indeed different, but loathed them he did none the less. A werewolf had no place in teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, neither did some insufferable prick that wouldn't be able to tell the different between granny in a nightgown and a Dementor. Then there had been Alastor Moody, or so assumed at least. Either way it had not been a nice experience, and Dumbledore must have been pretty desperate to have a teacher at all. Now there was Terminus.

The sad part here was that Severus had to admit to himself that Quirrel was probably the best suited one for the job. He might have been a foolish Ravenclaw, but facts were facts. The man had been quite intelligent, well above the average, and had looked absolutely stunning in those long purple gloves.

"Anderson, George," came the McGonagall's voice, breaking Snape's train of thought.

Snape eyed the specimen of whimpering eleven-year-old.

"Gryffindor," Snape mumbled, glancing at Harry who had actually managed to come in time for the sorting this year. It seemed like there was still a slight glimpse hope for the boy to learn the rules, if only in order to break them later.

"Gryffindor!"

Applause from the Gryffindor table. Except for one redhead. Snape narrowed his eyes, the second youngest Weasley was looking quite traumatized, and kept staring over at the Slytherin table. Following the student's eyes he noted that he was indeed looking at Draco Malfoy, who seemed very friendly with Blaise Zabini at the moment. 'Well, they are fifteen after all,' Snape thought. 'Discovering one's sexuality is only natural, but if Weasley thinks he got a chance with Malfoy he's thicker than I thought.'

"Austin, Arnold."

Even when including the students dread for Professor Binns' utter boredom, Professor Snape's poor temper and Professor McGonagall's homework, Headmaster Dumbledore's ever present fear about the Ministry finding out that he was part in the unfulfilled transfiguration of the goat his brother Aberforth molested, and Rita Skeeter's reoccurring dreams about Gilderoy Lockhart in a violet tutu that had nothing to do with this at all. Even when all of that is included, the one who dreaded the new school year the most was madam Pomfrey.

The things she had seen during the time she had worked at Hogwarts was enough to give even the Dark Lord nightmares. And she had worked at Beuxbatons too, and they were known for their perversity.

It wasn't like any of the teachers would be the one dealing with cases like Malcolm Baddock's overly enlarged penis that wouldn't shrink, Padma Patil's two pregnancies in three months, Crabbe's 'accidental' merging of his thigh with Longbottom's runaway toad, Roger Davies and Terry Boot's grown together penises, not to mention Ernie Mcmillan's two and Hannah Abbot's three breast, Oliver Wood's charmed vibrator that had gotten stuck up... yes, and so on. She shuddered. Not even Minerva or Albus bothered to help her with those kinds of things. Well, maybe Albus had it been Harry Potter, but she suspected that their relationship wasn't all that it should be and wouldn't dream of contacting the Headmaster about any injury the boy had been caused until it was absolutely necessary. Like when some moron went and removed all the bones in his arm.

She missed Remus Lupin.

Not only had he been a good teacher who knew what he was doing, he had never, unlike the late Mr. Potter, caused any perverse damage to himself or others. Madam Pomfrey liked those kinds of students. Had she been able to she would have kicked each and every perverted little student out of Hogwarts the very second they came to her, leaving someone else to take care of the fixing up business. But she was the school nurse, nothing more and nothing less. Madam Pomfrey had no choice, but she always had that haunting feeling that it would be another case of perversity every time a student came to her.