Second-from-the-Inside Eyelashes

Harry Potter yawned, stretched, and opened his eyes. He blinked.

    Almost immediately after “waking”, he let out a loud cry and leaped out of bed. This was not all that amusing, seeing as how he had already began to prance awkwardly around the room when he realized he was not dressed.

    “Damn it.”

    “Or rather, just damn,” said a silky voice.

    Harry looked up and felt shock course over him, much like the water would when he took a much-needed cold shower.

    Severus Snape was standing there, clad in only a long (rather, short) white T-shirt with the words, “Call me Sevvie,” stitched on the front in emerald green.

    Harry made a valiant but, fortunately for Snape, unsuccessful attempt to cover himself.

    And he proceeded to gaze in shock at the professor.

    “You know, Potter,” said Snape mellifluously, his eyes resting a bit farther south that Harry would have liked, “Longbottom was a good shag and all…but I must say, you’ve got the goods.”

    Harry bit his lip as a wave of nausea washed over him.

    And then he tore a sheet off the bed, wrapped it around himself, and charged downstairs just as Neville came out of the bathroom.

    He was part way down the steps when he realized he had forgotten something.

    He sat down on one of the stone stairs and proceeded to wonder about what he had forgotten.

    Finally, about half an hour later, it came to him- “Clothes!”

    And thus he entered the dormitory to find Seamus and Snape getting it on like…well, seeing as how no animals did it like that…like a perverted Potions master and a homosexual student angling for an A.

    He made his way blindly - yes, blindly, as he had lost most of his sight when he saw Snape’s unfortunately small bits - to his trunk, from which he extracted his robes. And then he tugged them on as he “left the building”. Really just the room, but building sounds much more dramatic…

    He sat on the bench at breakfast with his eyes glazed over until Hermione came over and poked him in the arm.

    “What?” he asked blandly, hoping against hope she wasn’t going to inform him what a good shag Snape made.

    “Look,” she said.

    “I can’t,” he explained.

    She made a face, which he pretended not to see but really did, because he was only pretending to be blind because he didn’t care about whatever she was about to tell him.

    “Look at the damn paper,” she said in such a venomous voice that Harry quivered in fear. He decided miracles did happen, so…

    “O! Hark!” exclaimed Harry. “I can see! What blessed force has granted me this gift, at such a time of peril-”

    She gave him a Look. For a moment he thought she had actually laser-ed holes through his stomach. And then he remembered how stupid that was.

    “I mean…I can see that painfully neon pink sign you are holding under my nose,” he said blandly.

    “Read it!”

    “Alright, alright,” he groaned, focusing his eyes.

    He hadn’t even begun to read past the title (“The Length of Your Second-from-the-Inside Eyelash on Your Right Eye May Determine Your Profession!”) when Hermione started to explain it to him.

    “It’s a service that the Ministry’s offering to help sixth years determine what jobs they’d be good at, so they can plan what classes to take in seventh year.”

    “By measuring your second-from-the-inside eyelash on your right eye?”

    “Well, that’s just one of the many things that affects it! They do all sorts of things like that - see it says here, ‘Your future is really just the answer to a multiplication problem involving all the measurements from your body.’”

    “Cool,” he said boredly.

    “So you’ll do it?” she asked excitedly.

    “When is it?”

    “Today.”

    “What time?” he asked dully.

    She checked her watch. “Ten minutes.”

    “Alright,” he said, nodding, and with that he went back to his toast.

    “We have to have partners.”

    “Okay.”

    “I’ll be your partner, okay?”

    “Okay.”

    “Ron’s doing it, but he’s with Ginny.”

    “Right.”

    Ten minutes later they stumbled into the empty classroom on the second floor. It was already full of people, mainly Slytherins and Ravenclaws, who were buddied up with their best friends. Cho and Marietta were there; Malfoy and a guy Harry hadn’t seen since his first year at Hogwarts - Zabini; Ron and Ginny; Michael Corner and Zacharias Smith; Crabbe and Goyle, and about ten others, including Snape and Neville.

    “Right,” said Dumbledore, smiling broadly at all his pupils. “I see you are all with your partners already, so I am going to hand out the forms and assign your classrooms. Oh and Severus, you really don’t need to be here unless you plan on changing professions any time soon.”

    “Oh. Right,” said Snape, looking very embarrassed and leaving the room.

    “Everybody else understand?” asked Dumbledore. Everybody nodded to show they understood. “Oh, and Neville, you can be partners with me. I don’t plan to change jobs, but I always wondered if I chose the right one.” Neville nodded.

    “Also, it is up to your partner, NOT you, to measure everything,” he said. Harry was quite sure he saw him smirk in Ron and Ginny’s direction. “So have fun,” he added, grabbing a stack of forms off the nearest desk and proceeding to hand them out.

    Hermione and Harry ended up in the classroom between Ron and Ginny and Dumbledore and Neville.

    “Okay,” said Hermione. “I was wondering if I could get measured first?”

    “Sure thing,” said Harry, looking at the first few things to be measured. They were simple; knee to ankle, ankle to heel, width between nostrils, and heel to hip.

    Ten minutes later - and two pages of measurements later - Harry sighed. “Three more pages of this left, front and back,” he groaned.

    She shrugged as he started on the next set. (Distance between inner corners of eyes, distance between outer corners of eyes, number of freckles on face, length and width of eyes, and… length of second-from-the-inside eyelash on right eye…)

    Looking at the last page, Harry gulped. “Erm, Hermione…you’re not going to like this…”

    “What?”

    “Look at this set.”

    “Wha-?” Her eyes widened. “Oh…”

    Harry was quite horrified.

    “Well, go on,” she said. “We have to get this done.”

    He shrugged and set to work.

    “’Mione…You’re gonna have to take your shirt off for this one,” said Harry.

    She looked as though she’d rather not, but did anyway.

    “And your bra…” said Harry forlornly. It was at this exact point that two people - Ron and Ginny - let out horrified yells and ran screaming from their own classroom.

    He spent at least four minutes staring at her breasts before remembering that he had to measure them.

    “Right…distance between…nipples.” Hermione was quite sure there were a few tears tugging at his eyes, but didn’t say anything.

    He then proceeded to measure her with trembling hands.

    The next few were okay- decent, to say the least. He was actually starting to enjoy himself.

    Of course, it’s always quiet before the storm.

    “Okay. You can put your shirt back on now, but you have to take your skirt off-”

    “Alright!” she said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically than would be entirely normal.

    “-and your panties.”

    “What?” she asked.

    “You heard me right.”

    She rolled her eyes, groaned, and proceeded to strip her bottom half for him.

    “Harry. Harry. Stop staring,” she said, some five minutes later.

    “Oh…right.”

    These last couple proved not to be too terribly difficult. Admittedly, Harry felt a mixture of perverse and sick thoughts, but bulge in his pants aside, it wasn’t too big of a deal.

    Harry’s turn proved to be quite horrific for both of them. When it came that his…well, his tool, shall we say?…was to be measured, he got into quite a large argument with Hermione. She wrote down an even “9” on the appropriate blank, but Harry shouted that he was quite certain it was 9.7 inches, and expected his word to be taken seriously, seeing as how he measured it quite often.

    After a bit of arguing, over the course of which Hermione was getting more and more turned on by Harry’s…wand, and Harry was getting more and more uncomfortable, Hermione finally agreed to put “9.7” down on the paper.

    When the results of the Test came back the following week, Harry took one look at his and let out a scream of horror:

    Your ideal profession is a Healer at St. Mungos. It is likely that you have not realized your homosexuality yet, but in due time you are guaranteed to feel attracted to someone of the same sex. It truly is a wonderful thing - *wink*wink* - and who knows? You being the first gay Healer may become some sort of trend!

    Harry showed his results to Hermione, who let him read hers, which read,

    Your ideal profession is a defeater of You-Know-Who. It is likely that you have not yet realized this yet, but in due time someone will decide to tell you. It is a truly horrible thing, and in case you are wondering, your ideal weapon to use when you become a defeater of You-Know-Who is your exceptionally large wand. *wink*wink*

“How the Hell did that happen?”

“You wrote your name on the wrong thing, Harry.”

“What?”

“They probably figure you’re bound to be gay because you don’t have anything - your name’s on my form.”

“Either that or they just based it on the length of my second-from-the-inside eyelash on my right eye.”

And, sitting several chairs down from Harry, Neville Longbottom grinned.