Sex Ed 101

Sex Ed 101
By Saj Lee

Chapter One
In which Albus Dumbledore makes a request of Severus Snape

It was just before the end of July and thus far, the summer had been an extraordinarily brutal one. Temperatures had never strayed below 27 degrees and the air was permeated with clinging humidity, occasionally bursting with intense (but too short to be of any relief) bouts of rain and early morning fog. Both Muggle and Wizard newspapers were calling it a record heat wave.

Plants wilted under the intense afternoon sun. The Whomping Willow was looking a bit brown around the edges. Even the Lake was looking somewhat depleted, the Giant Squid having taken refuge in the darkest, murkiest depths of what was left of the body of water. For Hogwarts’ wizard inhabitants, they tried to stave off the heat by keeping indoors as much as possible in the coolness that seemed infused in the castle’s ancient, sweating stones.

For Hogwarts’ Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, heat and humidity were not excuses for looking inappropriately attired. As always, she took great pains to appear tidy and proper, if a bit severe. Her emerald green robe (with an ample cooling spell) was pressed and every button and hook was clasped. Not a single black hair was askew from the humidity, but she wasn’t about to share her knowledge of a useful hair de-frizzing charm she had developed for such situations. She didn’t want to appear vain.

Currently, with her square spectacles perched at the end of her neat and pointed nose, she was going through the school’s several parchments of student records for the upcoming school year, moving each scroll bearing a particular student’s name to his or her appropriate year. After completing this annual task, she would then make sure an official Hogwarts letter would be spelled for each student and then owled out, detailing the needed materials for the first term.

There was also an eighth pile, new this year, for students who were now deceased. It was disconcertingly substantial.

Those scrolls would be sent off to the Ministry for official record-keeping purposes.

After three cups of tea (with just a douse of brandy, for flavour) and several breaks in favour of dangling a magical string in front of Mortimer, her furry familiar, she had drudged through each year’s paperwork and now began the to create the individual letters, starting with the seventh years. Abbott, Hannah. With a slight swish of her wand, words made of green ink materialized on the envelope in front of her. Taking a cursory glance at Hannah’s courses so she could match them with the corresponding set books, Minerva paused and re-read the unexpected sixth course that Hannah would be taking.

With growing suspicion, she grabbed another seventh year’s scroll and checked his course list. Then another’s and another’s, her eyes growing wider and wider.

Then Minverva McGonagall did something that was rarely witnessed, which caused Mortimer to start from his nap on the fireplace mantel.

She threw her head back and cackled.

***

“Oh, Severus, do come in and have a seat.”

Severus Snape warily stepped into Dumbledore’s office from the revolving staircase. Invitations from the Headmaster for tea were always to be approached with prudence. For it was never just “Tea, Severus?” – Dumbledore was too much of a wily and manipulative bastard for simple, innocent pleasantries. At least Dumbledore’s office was airy and cool, and Severus was grateful as he even refused to undo the top button from his robe.

“Tea, Severus?”

Severus realized that he was still standing quite stiffly just inside Dumbledore’s office and hastily tried to smooth out his hesitancy by gliding towards the older man’s desk and plucking the cup of steaming tea hovering in the air with his long, pale fingers, settling himself comfortably within the folds of the chair in one, fluid motion. Dumbledore stared at him and sipped his own cup.

“You really are a bat.”

Severus scowled and took a cautionary sip of his tea. Lemon. He just managed to cover his grimace and gave Dumbledore an expectant look.

But the old man had to control the situation entirely and instead held out his blasted sweet-box.

“Sherbet lemon?”

“No, thank you, Albus.”

“Mint, Severus?”

“No, thank you, Albus.”

“Are you certain, Severus? They’re very good.”

“Albus, what do you want?”

“I have to confess to you, Severus, that I did not just call you up here for just tea,” Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair, bloody eyes still bloody twinkling.

“Of course not.”

“I’ve called – now wait just a second, Severus. Surely you’re not implying that I only invite you to tea whenever I have a favour to ask of you.” Dumbledore actually seemed...hurt? No, impossible.

“I do believe that is the case, Albus, and don’t you dare deny it.” Severus took another sip of his tea before again remembering that, dammit, it was still lemon. He hated lemon, so naturally, the old codger had to have a fancy for it.

“Hmmmph...” Dumbledore’s eyebrows furrowed in thought as he stroked his immensely long silver beard. “That’s simply not true. I do remember that I once invited you up for tea and we played a delightful game of Go Fish.”

“Only because you had just discovered Muggle playing cards.”

“Hmmm...” Part of Dumbledore’s beard was now absorbing the tea in the cup in front of him, much to the old wizard’s ignorance. Severus chose not to mention it.

After a long moment, Severus grew impatient.

“You called me up here for a reason and that reason is...?” Severus prodded. “Albus?”

“Oh!” Albus started from thought, “Now where was I...? Ah, yes, I must confess that I did not just bring you up here for tea, Severus.”

“Oh, Merlin help me,” Severus muttered and slunk down in his chair.

“As you may well know, Hogwarts is adding a new course to its curriculum,” Dumbledore began, “and naturally—”

“Wait a second, what new course? I’ve heard of no such development.” He sat up, feeling the first twinge of uneasiness curling in his stomach.

“You didn’t get the owl?”

“The owls have put a moratorium on my post.”

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment. “Perhaps putting experimental potions in their drinking water was not a wise choice.”

Severus shrugged. “The potions needed testing. The owl was in the closest vicinity.”

“As I was saying,” Dumbledore continued, fixing him with a stern glare, “Education for Sexual Ethics and Practise has been added to the fifth year curriculum, and for its first year of implementation, the sixth and seventh years’ as well.”

“Albus, you must be joking.”

“I never joke, Severus,” Dumbledore smiled. Twinkle. “And it has been unanimously decided that you will be the new instructor.”

Severus stared at Dumbledore, his cup falling from his nerveless fingers and shattering on the floor. Dumbledore waved his wand and the mess was cleared away, the cup replaced.

“You can’t be serious. You can’t be. I refuse to teach a...a...sex ed class!” Severus sputtered. “Are you mad? No, don’t answer that, I already know. You are mad! You are completely barmy!”

“It’s not a ‘sex ed’ class, it’s called Education for Sexual Ethics and—”

“It’s a sex ed class, a bit trussed up!” Severus used his foulest glare on Dumbledore, which had no effect whatsoever. “Why, Albus? Why now? Don’t you think it’s a bit late for the seventh years? I’m sure they’ve already been shagging like jarvies throughout the bloody war.”

“Language, Severus,” Dumbledore frowned. “While it is somewhat belated in their education, you can’t, in all good conscience, send these children out into the world without a well-rounded education.”

“The old curriculum was obviously good enough for all the years previously!” But then again, look at the Weasley’s, he amended.

“Change is inevitable, Severus.”

Severus scoffed. “Bollocks.”

“Severus.”

“Albus, no. Why me? When was this ‘unanimously decided’? Who decided on this?”

“Why, Mr. Argus Filch and I had a pleasant conversation and we both agreed that it would be a splendid idea. He was quite amenable to it. The children need to be taught responsibility, Severus, in all areas of life.”

Having decided to brave the lemon, Severus had been in the process of drinking his tea, but spit the mouthful back into the cup upon Dumbledore’s latest bit of news. “Filch? You discussed Hogwarts’ education requirements with the caretaker?”

“He was surprisingly eager to have you, specifically, teach the class.”

I will kill him, Severus thought. I will kill him with his own charmed mop.

“Albus,” he began in what he hoped was a reasonable tone, “Surely you must realize that I am not the best choice for this position. I don’t like children. Children don’t like me. I hardly think they’d want me to be the one to educate them in all things sexual, never mind the glaringly obvious fact that I’m not exactly the most qualified candidate for such a position in the first place.”

“You don’t hate them, Severus. If you did, you certainly picked the wrong profession. You put on such a severe façade, but I have excellent intuition and I know that you are most suitable for this task, precisely because you are so distanced from them. The children can come to you because they will know that you will be an impartial listener.”

“I am not their doctor, confidant, or friend, and I will not teach this class. I won’t do it and you cannot make me.” And for good measure, “And I do I hate them.”

“It’s a dramatic increase in your salary. The position’s salary is very attractive.”

Be strong... “How much?”

“More than what you make now.”

“What! How?” Outrageous!

“You would be more emotionally involved, being available to the students for counselling in addition to classes.” Dumbledore smiled triumphantly, “I thought it only a fair trade-off, time for money. What’s that corporate Muggle saying? ‘Time is money’?”

"Do you always discuss matters of the school with the caretaker?" He’d been eyeing a new set of gold cauldrons. And the new top-of-the-range platinum glass flasks. He could brave a few brats whingeing to him, right? Besides, they wouldn’t dare even think to do it anyway. They would be much too intimidated by him and he could fill the class times by being intensely scientific and boring the little cretins to sleep. But best of all – more time to take away House points! Damn Albus, anyway. No. No. He would be the butt of jokes. His reputation would be irrevocably tarnished. All the galleons in the world were not worth that.

“No, Albus. Absolutely not.” Firmly. He had Potions timetables to plan, and a fine bottle of fire whiskey with a good year on it to finish off.

“Did you know that one week from today is young Mr. Potter’s birthday?” What? Albus, the master of the non-sequitor.

“Would you like me to wear a cracker hat and send him biscuits laced with arsenic?” Severus asked sweetly.

Dumbledore said nothing. Didn’t have to.

Severus frowned. “No, Albus.”

Dumbledore looked down, noticed the state of his beard, and wrung it out.

“No. Find someone else to teach this ridiculous class.”

Dumbledore looked up, resting the full weight of his serious blue eyes on him. He seemed resigned and, strangely, the adjective didn’t fit Dumbledore comfortably. “I trust you implicitly, Severus. You’ve done me great service over the course of the years. I can do no more but ask. If you refuse to do this, then I understand and will begin to look for other potential candidates.”

Severus sighed. A sigh to end all sighs. A sigh that deflated his entire body of anima. An existential sigh.

“I hate my life.”

And just as quickly, the resignation disappeared. A dark cloud swept away by blinding, blinding, perky sunshine.

“I’ll see if some sort of reconciliation with the owls can be made.”

Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle.

***

July 31st came without much fanfare and Number 4 Privet Drive, but Harry Potter was, by now, used to his birthday being unacknowledged by his family, though at least he had something to look forward to later that night when owls from his friends and godfather arrived. He was, however, becoming well-acquainted with the refrigerator, as Aunt Petunia ordered him to scrub it until it “sparkled.”

Meanwhile, Uncle Vernon sat in the living room with the shades drawn in a futile attempt to keep cool. Beads of perspiration dotted his flushed skin and dripped off the ends of his enormous, bushy moustache.

“Can you believe this weather, Petunia? Ludicrous, simply ludicrous!” He bellowed from the sofa.

From the kitchen, Harry rolled his eyes and applied more pressure on a particularly stubborn spot, wiping away sweat from his forehead.

“It’s terrible, darling!” Petunia said upon entering the kitchen. When she spotted Harry, her eyes narrowed. “Get your uncle a glass of ice water. You don’t want him to get dehydrated, do you? Go!”

Harry bit down on a retort, and stood up to do his aunt’s bidding. Things just weren’t the same anymore. He couldn’t find the grace to be…content any longer. Compared to the horrific war and the final showdown with Voldemort, his Aunt and Uncle’s petty complaints only served to anger him with their triteness.

From issuing deadly curses to scrubbing refrigerators, Harry thought glumly. The Boy-Who-Lived can do it all.

The rift between his Muggle family and the magical world in which he belonged was daily growing wider. But, it was only one more month until Harry could leave Privet Drive behind forever, if he could keep himself sane until then.

A tapping on the window above the kitchen sink drew his attention. Just outside the open window was perched a large owl with golden brown feathers ruffled quite proudly.

Cursing, Harry swiftly walked over to the window, checking to see if anyone had seen the owl. Fortunately Aunt Petunia had left the kitchen to fawn over her suffering husband. Her shrilly voice echoed back from the living room.

Harry returned his attention to the bird, which held in its beak a very familiar-looking cream-colored envelope with his name and exact address sprawled across the front.

Sighing, he took the proffered letter and brushed the owl’s silky feathers. Harry took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the tap, letting the owl refresh itself before hooting a goodbye and taking flight once more.

He watched the owl until it was nothing more than a brown speck in the sky and finally focused on the letter he still held in his hand. Taking a glance to check if he was being watched once more, Harry took out another glass from the cabinet and helped himself to a bit of water.

With a sweep of his thumb, he detached the official Hogwarts waxen seal and read through the contents with little thought. The formalities were the same each and every year.

Until he read the list of set books and sprayed his water all about the kitchen window, causing Aunt Petunia to run into the kitchen and screech extremely loud.

***

TBC in Chapter Two: In which the students arrive at Hogwarts and Severus Snape has a brilliant plan