Sex Ed 101

Sex Ed 101
By Saj Lee

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

It was the afternoon before the first of September, and Severus was sitting somewhat awkwardly in a lawn chair beside a lounging Minerva on Hogwarts’ sparsely green lawn, drinking his fifth cup of tea. He knew it was really too hot to be drinking so much tea outside – in black robes, no less – and yet refusing to let nature win and retreat back to his dungeons.

How could Minerva look as fresh as a – he winced at the only comparison that readily sprang to mind – a garden? Especially while he was practically wilting like a dark, mangy weed.

Severus decided it was time to stop the floral analogies lest one should slip from a loose tongue.

Minerva sighed heavily, breaking the blanket of silence that had comfortably settled over them like the warm (too warm) rays of the sun. “To think that this is the last day of peace and quiet, Severus.”

She was wearing a witch’s hat with a ridiculously wide rim that he suspected she had charmed to act as a visor. Clever Minerva. However, no amount of cleverness could be attributed to the hat’s garish paisley colour.

“Soon, it will be back to subtracting House points, worrying over students, and Quidditch matches...”

“Not having to worry about annual attacks on the school from various incarnations of dark lords,” Severus put in, “Or Potter inevitably getting himself into impossible situations, though I suspect he doesn’t need an arch nemesis for that.”

Minerva lazily turned her head towards him, eyes alight with amusement despite the perpetual downturn of the corners of her frosty, forbidding mouth. He had to keep himself from hysterics over that one. “Why do you dislike Mr. Potter so much, Severus?”

“Our resident celebrity? Not dislike, Minerva. Utter loathing.”

Minerva blinked. A long, slow blink. “Do you not think he’s been through enough? Do give the boy some slack, he deserves at least one year without your constant enmity barraging him from all sides.”

“And ruin the Manichean division that pervades civilised society and the human condition? Everyone needs an Other to define themselves by, Minerva. I am only giving Potter his self-identification. I, the evil Potions master, he, the snivelling brat,” Severus said, attempting to find some level of comfort in the impossibly hard and tacky plastic furniture. “I would daresay I am doing him a great service. Order of Merlin, here I come.” Oh, what a sore point that was!

Minerva frowned. He swore that if she had whiskers, they would be twitching.

“Severus, are you drunk?”

His tea (and the several cups prior) was fortified with enough whiskey to poison a house elf with the vapours. “No.”

“Don’t lie to me. You become terribly philosophical when you’re soused,” she huffed, smoothing out her robes in a whimsical manner. “Why do you think I took away so many House points that one time you gave your fellow classmates a verbose lecture on the ethics of Transfiguration?”

“Apparently not for my cheek.”

“You were never so talkative. ‘Brevity is the soul of wit’, was always your stolen motto.” A nibble on a cucumber sandwich, chewed completely and swallowed. Minerva was forever polite. “That, and you smelled like the Rhineland.”

Severus glowered. “It’s the last day of summer holiday, Minerva. Indulge me before I begin my descent into the fiery infernos of hell that Albus likes to subject me to.”

“Speaking of such, have you heard of Albus’ new sexual education course?” Minerva rolled her eyes, and sipped her tea while Severus’ scowl went unnoticed. “Rubbish, if you ask me. I can only fathom to guess what unfortunate misanthrope was persuaded to take up such a position. If there is one thing that our students don’t need tuition in, it is most certainly that.”

“Where is Albus, by the by?” he asked, desperately wanting to change the topic.

“Most likely down by the lake, chasing after dragonflies,” Minerva said.

The image was a disconcerting one.

“Scientific study, I’m most certain.” I hope, he added.

“Oh, always,” Minerva succinctly answered, discreetly switching their teacups, as if he wouldn’t notice. “But aside from Albus’s...eccentric activities,” she faced him directly now, clearly wanting information, “I’m a bit concerned that Professor Figg has yet to make an appearance at Hogwarts for the first term, never mind actual summer staff meetings.”

Severus, however, remained neutral to the witch’s inquiries. “We go through this every year, Minerva. Arabella has always been ten minutes late to every party. No need to expend your energies, as I’m sure the nutter is fine.” Arabella had an irritating habit of surviving even the worst-case scenarios, very much intact, despite her lack of self-preservation that almost rivalled Potter’s.

Disappointed, Minerva sat back and seemed resigned to the wilfulness of her staff. “At least she’s competent, which is more than one can say for past Defence Against the Dark Arts professors, as well as several other such persons in various other positions,” Minerva muttered, generously helping herself to his cup. Severus would have gambled his entire salary that the headmistress’s thoughts were dwelling on the old bat, Trelawney.

Just then, Dumbledore appeared in Severus's line of vision, having crept up on the unknowing man without so much as a twig snapping, causing Severus to jump slightly. The old wizard looked slightly breathless and immensely happy. In his silver beard, he had indeed caught several dragonflies, and the insects were desperately trying to flit their wings to escape the cottony snare, yet only managing to become further imprisoned.

“Oh, honestly, Albus,” Minerva said, “A respectable wizard would never behave as such!”

“A beard is a wonderful thing, Minerva. It has so many practical uses that one would never think of,” Dumbledore replied, looking down at his recently acquired insect collection, “Oh my, how did you all come to be here?”

Dumbledore pulled out his wand from his sleeve and a tap to his beard with a muttered charm released all the fluttering inmates. The dragonflies buzzed in annoyance before flying away, not wanting to be reacquainted with the hairy trap any time soon.

After making sure that there wasn’t a rogue insect left in hiding, Dumbledore looked up, “Such curious creatures.”

I will remain silent, Severus told himself, if I value my job.

“After almost thirty years in your employ, I will never understand you,” Minerva bemusedly said to Dumbledore.

“Alas, I may never understand me either,” Dumbledore answered. Transfiguring the table laden with the tea and sandwiches between Severus and Minerva into a large, cushioned recliner, Dumbledore seated himself, ignoring the looks he received.

Then he turned to Minerva, “Have I told you that Severus has agreed to teach a course on Sexual Ethics and Practise? Imagine my surprise...”

***

“There!”

With a last, forceful yank, Hermione Granger managed to pull the train’s window open and was greeted with a cool breeze washing over her face and into the stuffy, overheated compartment.

“Oh great wizards, I love you, woman,” Ron breathed, almost shoving Hermione out of the way to stick his head out the window and shouting, “Feel that breeze! That’s life out there!”

“Ron!” Hermione smacked the redhead on the shoulder and then tried to pull him back into the train with the same force she used to get the window open. “Get your head back into the train this instant! It could get knocked off!”

Reluctantly, Ron Weasley let himself be pulled back in. “It wouldn’t be like I’m losing anything important, Hermione – ow! I’m kidding! Ow! I am! Hermione...”

Harry sat back and closed his eyes, the antics of his two best friends making him smile. It was so good to be returning to the place that he’d always thought of as home with the two people whom he loved most in the entire world. However, the compartment was hot, thanks to the unseasonably warm weather of late. Harry wasn’t even sure if the train’s windows were meant to be opened and it was a testament to Hermione’s determination that they were getting any sort of fresh air at all.

“Oy, I swear Hermione’s playing Mum to us all now,” Ron said, having escaped the assault of the witch in question, he sat back down once more.

“I only do so because you haven’t the sense to take care of yourself,” Hermione retorted, seating herself, Harry noted, quite close to Ron, and Ron unconsciously leaning in towards Hermione, despite their earlier dissention.

“I’ll have you know that I can be very sensible. Remember that time we saw all those Death Eaters coming up over the hill? I ran and hid. Very smart, if you ask me.”

“Remind me to fawn over your Gryffindor bravery later.”

“Gah!” Ron exclaimed, “Women! You just can’t please ‘em.”

Harry shook his head at their constant bickering, even if there was an element of truth to it all. At the risk of losing any one of them, Hermione had grown to become quite possessive of them all and had now adopted a mother hen attitude and this year she was a prefect. Already this proved troublesome, as she had refused to sit in the prefect’s compartment in favour of watching over them. The girl was heading towards a nervous breakdown.

Before Harry could reassure her, the door to their compartment opened and in stepped a sneering Draco Malfoy and the ever-present Crabbe and Goyle. If it was possible, Draco had grown up in the likeness of his father, right down to the perfectly groomed hair, the immaculate robes, and the polished shoes. Unfortunately for Crabble and Goyle, they had inherited their fathers’ dull, vacant looks as well.

“Will we ever get a train ride without seeing your snotty face, Malfoy?” Ron asked snidely, body instinctively tensing.

“Shut up, Weasel, isn’t there a corner you can beg for money on?”

Before Ron could resort to his fists, Harry spoke up, “What do you want, Malfoy? We don’t provoke these confrontations. In fact, we’d rather not have to deal with you at all. Say what you have to say and then leave us alone.”

Visibly resisting the urge to respond with an insult, Draco looked at Harry warily, finally saying, “You forgot this.”

Draco held out his hand. It was the wizard’s photo of his mum and dad that he’d thought he had lost last year. The edges were a bit worse for wear, but the moving images in the frame were still as vibrant as ever. His mum smiled up at him and gave him a small wave while gently cradling a baby Harry in her other arm.

Carefully, as if handling an ancient artifact, Harry took the proffered photo and slipped it into his pocket. He looked up and met Draco’s grey, surprisingly serious, eyes. “Thank you.”

Draco nodded, gave Hermione and Ron one last scathing look, and then left with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

After making sure Malfoy and his goons were out of earshot, Hermione turned to Harry, eyes full of questions, but it was Ron who spoke first. “Why did the ferret have your mum and dad’s photo, Harry?”

Hermione looked concerned, “Did he steal it, Harry?”

“You’d trust something given to you by Malfoy?”

“I thought I’d lost it,” Harry answered simply, hand covering the pocket that contained one of his most valuable possessions.

“But Malfoy, Harry? I don’t understand.”

“I had misplaced it and Malfoy has given it back to me,” Harry said in a tone that told everyone to drop the matter.

But Ron was not so perceptive of such undercurrents. “But when? When were you and Malfoy ever in such position together that he would have—”

“Ron,” Hermione placed a hand on his arm, “Let it alone.”

Ron appeared as if he was about to protest, but at last backed down. “Alright, mate.” Then he added under his breath, “I still don’t trust him.”

Shooting Hermione a grateful look, Harry replied, “Neither do I, Ron. He may have grown up some, but he’s still a spoiled brat.”

“Yeah, a rich, snotty, ugly—”

“I hope you all did your homework assignments over the holiday,” Hermione said in a move to change topics.

“Naturally!” Ron blustered, apparently easily distracted. “Until Fred and George thought it’d be funny to transfigure the parchments into birds. My homework literally flew away! I’ve never seen Mum so mad in all her life, ‘cept maybe that one time when Fred and George lured all the gnomes in the garden into the house – that was a riot – but anyway, she would’ve punished them if they still lived at home. She did yell a whole lot and they're bound to receive howlers every day for a year.”

“And you didn’t redo them?” Hermione asked, shocked. On Hermione’s scale of justice, not doing one’s homework was a crime on the same level as homicide.

“Of course not. I put in the effort. Not my fault that Fred and George ruined it.”

“Ron, the professors will never accept such a preposterous excuse!”

“I’m sure they will if I mentioned Fred and George were involved.”

“Honestly!”

Ignoring the eternally-frustrated Hermione, Ron leaned in towards Harry, and whispered in a not-quite-so discreet way, “Mate, has another course been added to your timetable? I got a set of new books, but I can’t see how they relate to Divination, you know? I’ve been asking about and it seems like all the seventh years are on the list, some sixth years too.”

“The sex ed course?” Harry asked bluntly.

Ron blushed. “Well, er, yeah.”

“It’s on my list. I know as little as you do.”

“You don’t reckon...I mean, is it what we think it is...?”

“Oh, how old are you, Ronald Weasley?” Hermione, who could not remain quiet for long when there was a wrong to be righted, asked, “The course is called Sexual Ethics and Practise! Obviously Hogwarts feels the need to educate its students in basic human biology and relations between them. Personally, I think it’s a wonderful decision as I hope it will teach students some responsibility for their actions in relationship matters and such.” At this, she looked pointedly at Ron, who, if it was possible turned redder.

“But why now, Hermione? It seems like such a sudden thing to add to the curriculum. A bit, I dunno, superfluous, if you ask me,” Harry said. “Anti-climactic even.”

“Perhaps that’s the point, Harry. Perhaps this is our year to wind things down, to return to some semblance of normality.” She looked down and softly said, “We’ve all been forced to grow up too quickly.”

Harry sat back, digesting Hermione’s words while staring out the open window at the passing landscape outside. We’re all a little bit older, a little bit wiser.

And we don’t know what to do with it all.

Sensing the sombre atmosphere, Ron spoke up cheerfully, “Well, I’m almost looking forward to the class! Though I don’t see how I need any more pointers as I think I’ve got all the bases covered, if you know what I mean,” as he nudged Hermione playfully.

Hermione looked up, outraged. “Ron!”

Harry snorted in amusement and watched old tempers flare up yet again. He swore one could set one’s watch by them.

“I’m only joking! Ow! Hermione, I joke, it’s what I do...ow!”

“You’re most certainly not funny!”

They had a while’s yet to Hogwarts. At least soon, the tea cart would be around and he could shut Ron up by stuffing a pasty in his gob. Then again, that would only lead to Hermione calling Ron a pig and Ron calling Hermione a prude and thus everything would start up again. He honestly didn’t know what kept those two together.

“I am funny! I’m the comic relief!”

“Funny, I’d always assumed you were the oafish sidekick...”

Harry sunk lower in his seat and began rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses where a slow build-up of pressure was coalescing.

“Oh, Merlin help me...”

***

Severus peered out a nearby window and could see the bright points of light from the magical horseless carriages approaching the castle through the darkness like an army of swarming, angry fireflies.

“Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war...” he muttered darkly.

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Severus,” Minerva said as she breezed past him. Clapping her hands, she called out to the staff lounge’s inhabitants, “The staff needs to be seated at the table for the Feast. Has anyone seen Arabella? Oh, I don’t even want to know – my word, that woman! Well, come along, everyone!”

Forming a haphazard queue, the Hogwarts staff followed the headmistress through the staff entrance into the Great Hall. Looking up, Severus took in the hundreds upon hundreds of softly lit candles floating above them and even further, the enchanted ceiling, revealing a clear and blessedly cool starry night. As always, it never failed to stir some sort of awe-filled emotion in him.

“Beautiful night, hmm, Severus?”

He looked down – very down – to the source of the squeaky voice, Flitwick, who had saddled up alongside him.

“Indeed, Filius.”

“If I did not know better, I would call it a good omen for the upcoming year,” Flitwick said.

“It is not my place to say. Perhaps we should consult Trelawney,” Severus deadpanned.

Flitwick snorted (a very strange, high pitched squeak), surprising Severus, and even more so when the diminutive professor said, “I’d just as sooner chew off my own leg, Severus.”

And Severus couldn’t help it: he let out a rich bark of laughter that echoed throughout the Hall, surprising (perhaps frightening) the other professors, who stared at the two of them oddly before taking their positions at the staff table.

“You’ve changed, Severus,” Flitwick noted.

Severus was about to open his mouth with a sharp retort, but then paused and considered the statement. Had he? “Perhaps.”

Besides, there was no need to begin the insults now, as they could wait until the Quidditch season began when Slytherin would soundly trounce Ravenclaw. He was most sure of it. Then he would use Flitwick as a footstool.

Flitwick nodded, as if accepting the non-committal reply, and climbed into his seat (with several added books for extra height, but the students wouldn’t be able to see those).

Just then, Dumbledore swept into the Hall through the two large front doors. Severus supposed it was for the maximum effect of making a grand entrance and didn’t that just make half the wizard?

“Ah, my wonderful staff!” Dumbledore called out, approaching the staff table, hands held out in a sweeping gesture, made more dramatic by the dark velvety blue of his robes. “Soon, our great wooden doors will open to an influx of hungry minds and empty bellies.”

Or vice versa, Severus noted silently.

“I trust that you will all make this year just as memorable and illustrious as all the years prior. The Feast shall commence soon.” And with that, Dumbledore took his place at the centre of the table and with an unspoken, nearly unconscious thought, the Hogwarts staff turned their heads expectantly towards the main entrance.

This is the way the world ends

The Muggle poem instantly sprang to mind and he thought it most fitting. Severus could hear the front doors to the castle being opened.

This is the way the world ends

Soft at first, the collection of chattering voices wafted into the room, still somewhat muffled, but steadily rising in pitch.

This is the way the world ends

The great wooden doors to the Hall were thrown open by Minerva and the mass of returning Hogwarts students flooded into the space, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the ceiling and the room and the décor, as if they had never seen the exact same set-up in earlier years.

Not with a bang but a whimper.

Severus hunched his shoulders and shrunk down in his chair, plastering his most dangerous sneer across his face that threatened horrible pain if a student were to ever so much as look at him wrong.

He found Potter amongst the horde. Glared at Potter and his two friends, Weasley and Granger, just because he could.

“Hurry and take your seats, everyone,” Minerva instructed, “The first years will be arriving with Hagrid shortly and need I remind you that if anyone puts anything in the first years’ food, one hundred points will be deducted from your House and you will receive three months of detention served with either Mr. Filch or Professor Snape.” Ah, the simplest threats worked best, as proven by the complete lack of pranks on the first years. At least, on their first night.

Hungry, eager little faces took their proper places at their House tables. Bright eyes looked forward to the start of the new year – free from fear and war. The optimism and cheer was such a thick undercurrent, Severus could almost taste it.

And then it hit him like an impediment curse.

He would be teaching a sex ed course to these children. To Weasley children, who turned bright red at the mention of “sex.” To Granger, who probably knew more on the subject than he did.

To Potter. He didn’t have to explain that one.

What had he done?

Damn Albus!

It was the only thought that kept repeating through his mind as Minerva re-entered the room with the nervous first years. As Hagrid came in last and took his place at the staff table. As the Ceremony began and the first years were Sorted (so few this year – though give it about eleven years and the place would soon be crawling with post-war babies). As Dumbledore stood up and made the usual warnings about the Forbidden Forest being forbidden and the list of banned items for the year and...

“...This year’s first Sexual Ethics and Practise course will be taught by your already well-known and loved Potions master, Professor Snape, who has graciously taken up the position for your added benefit!”

Oh no.

Dumbledore’s last announcement was met with stunned silence both by the students and staff, save for Minerva, who was politely keeping her eyes averted instead of openly gawking at him as the rest of her co-workers were doing.

Silence.

Damn Albus!

Silence.

He wished for the floor to open up beneath him and swallow him whole.

Silence.

He was going to get pissed tonight. Legless, fall-down, oblivion-inducing wankered.

Silence.

He had a brilliant plan, actually. It would solve approximately ninety percent of his problems. It was amazing that no one had ever thought of it before. He would kill Albus. It was really quite beautiful in its inherent simplicity. Kill Albus and end his perpetual suffering and misery. Then all would be blissful. Sure, Azkaban was certain, but it was almost coming to the point where dementors’ company was preferred.

“Bugger me!”

That last expletive originated from one of the House tables.

“MR. WEASLEY!” Minerva roared, standing up so fast the dishes before her trembled, “Watch your language! Twenty points from Gryffindor!”

“Well,” Dumbledore said, looking around the Hall with great amusement (it was always amusement), “Let’s eat, shall we?”

***

Later that night, after the novelty and horror of his latest position had worn off some, Severus braced himself before entering the Slytherin common room. He had Head of House duties to fulfil, which basically translated into scaring the first years into quivering messes of tears, and he would not let jokes and derogatory comments pass uncommented upon.

The blank stone door, almost hidden in the dungeon wall, swung open at the command of his password (“Anfeidraid” to ensure that the idiotic Gryffindors wouldn’t even be able to pronounce it, should they happen upon the password) and he was met by a cessation of conversation by all the Slytherins who had gathered in the common room.

“Please,” Severus icily said into the vacuum, “Don’t let my presence stop you.”

When no one dared to so much as breathe, he continued, “I want everyone in Slytherin down here now.”

A few of the older, more experienced Slytherins instantly scrambled to obey his command, running up the stairs to gather their missing peers. Never let it be said that anyone was exempt from his terrorisation, Slytherin or not.

Severus waited while the rest of his House gathered, making sure to study each and every student in the room, glaring at the late arrivals. When he was certain everyone was present, he began the speech he had practised and recited in his head specifically for these occasions:

“Welcome to Slytherin House. I am your Head of House, and you may address me as Professor Snape.

“Not,” he added, intensifying his glare, “ ‘Slimy Snape,’ or ‘That bastard, Snape,’ as I’ve heard them all before. If I ever catch a student uttering such words, especially a Slytherin, expect dire and unfair punishment.

“Contrary to popular belief, we are not the Dark House. If you believe this stupid rumour – or even relish such an erroneous reputation – then you are truly an imbecile and will be soundly crushed by your more intelligent peers.”

What was left of his diminished house, stared back at him solemnly, for they knew all too well from personal experience what happened to Dark wizards and witches. Draco Malfoy looked away.

“In fact, this year, Hogwarts has become more strict on such matters. If any one of you is caught claiming to have ties to the Dark, you will be brought before the Headmaster and dealt with, boasting or not. We do not tolerate such foolishness HERE!”

He emphasised the word by smashing his fist down upon a nearby table, causing those students nearest to him to flinch and shy away. The older students didn’t even blink.

“If you are found to be having ties with the Dark, then your wand will be broken, and you will be expelled from Hogwarts and every other magical school in the world. There will be no first warnings.

“Many have accused me of favouring my own House above all others and I will not lie to you: such accusations are true. I favour you where other professors will not, because other professors will not. While we are not the Dark House, we are certainly the most disliked. Do not show weakness and dissention in front of the other Houses. We must present a united front to the school and stand our ground.

“This means, if you want to have it out with one of your house members, you will do so in private. Slytherin may not seem to have many virtues, but we are loyal to each other first and foremost. This also means that if a matter cannot be solved independently, you are to come to me first. Is this understood?”

A chorus of affirmative nods satisfied him. “Good. Now, are there any intelligent questions?”

No one raised their hand, and he was about to bid them goodnight and congratulate himself on coming out of this with his reputation intact, when a shy hand rose from the back. A second year (and not a particularly bright one, Severus thought ruefully) – Jenkins, Adam, he recalled.

“Yes, Mr. Jenkins?”

“Uh...sir, is it really true that you’re teaching the sex ed class? I heard that it was just a silly rumour, but when the Headmaster said....” The boy trailed off meekly under the weight of Severus’ gaze.

Encouraged, several other students nodded, as the question was on their minds as well.

He resisted the intense desire to groan and repeatedly bang his head against the adjacent wall.

Damn Albus!

***

TBC in Chapter Three: In which the first day of classes commence and Arabella Figg arrives at Hogwarts

***

Additional Credits:
“The first step to sounding intelligent: quote literature, man. Yeah.”

1 "Brevity is the soul of wit," is a quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet. Severus should be a big fan of Shakespeare.

2 “Cry havoc! and let slip the dogs of war,” is a lightly mangled quote from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar.

3 The poem that Severus references is taken from “The Hollow Men,” by that lovable modernist, T.S. Eliot.

4 “Anfeidraid” is Welsh for “Infinitely,” more or less.

***

Update: Because I am a whore, may I direct you to Stickmarionette and Sajasma Lee's newly created mailing list? Get the goods on your favourite stories first - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/intellimongrels/join