Sex Ed 101

Sex Ed 101
By Saj Lee

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

Harry stared down at his schedule glumly. Mondays consisted of the new Sexual Ethics and Practice and then Potions, both with Slytherin. It was like some God of Misfortune and Chaos had, on a whim, declared that his favourite new toy would be one Harold James Potter, and thus gleefully proceeded to make said toy’s life a living, breathing hell.

“No. NO. This cannot be possible. I don’t believe it!” Ron sputtered disbelievingly next to him at breakfast. Ron, too, held his schedule, which was crumpled in his white, freckled, tightly-clenched hands. “Potions and that…other…class with Slytherins? Slytherins and Snape? This has to be a bloody bad joke!”

Ron’s sentiments were shared, quite audibly, down the Gryffindor (and Slytherin) table. Seamus started bashing his head against the table, making his eggs tremble and slide off his plate. Neville turned a whole other shade of white that Harry had never known was possible. Lavender scrunched up her nose. Across the hall, Draco read his schedule, looked up, and smirked.

“I hate to agree with Ron,” Hermione said, to which Ron gave her a dirty look, “But he’s right. This is just ridiculous. Everyone knows that Gryffindors and Slytherins never got on together and to pair them up for an entire day with the same professor – who is undoubtedly biased against Gryffindors and is notoriously cruel – is simply asking for trouble. We should lodge a complaint! We could start a pupil body unio...”

“Or maybe not,” Ron cut in. “Cripes, Hermione, you’d start an organisation if Hogwarts had a draught.”

“Hogwarts does have a draught. It’s a castle! That was a terrible analogy, Ron. Next time, leave the wit up to others who are far more capable of it.”

“Ooh, Ronniekins, you had better not let your bird talk to you in such a manner,” Seamus teased, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Glaring at Seamus, Ron turned to Hermione. “You know, Hermione, I am so glad that I always have you to build up my self-confidence, really.”

Harry tuned out what were the beginnings of yet another round of bickering. The corner of his parchment was partly soaking up the moisture on his eggs. To his right, Dean nudged him in the ribs, eliciting his attention.

“Tough break for us this term, huh?” Dead asked, indicating Harry’s half-soggy schedule.

“I don’t know what’s worse: being paired with Slytherin for two courses in a row or being paired with Snape for two courses in a row.”

“It can’t be coincidence. Gryffindor can’t have such awful luck. We’ve got good karma, we do,” Dean explained around a mouthful of food. Harry watched as a bit of egg flew from the corner of the other boy’s mouth to land on Neville’s plate, much to Neville’s ignorance. “No, I think someone’s pulling the strings. That Dumbledore – he just gets his jollies off this kind of thing, I mean, it can’t be Snape who’s so eager to have us spend all Monday with him. I don’t think that Snape wants to spend that much time with Gryffindors any more than we want to spend that time with him.”

“You’re forgetting that Snape likes torturing his students,” Seamus said, sneaking a slice of toast off an unsuspecting Neville’s plate. “Just imagine how many points he can take away every Monday. I’d wager we’ll be into the negatives in a fortnight.”

“Great,” Harry muttered.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Dean said, slapping him on the back, “I’m sure you’ll be the one to lose us the most points. Wear your title proudly!”

“You joke now...”

“The Hero’s right y’know,” Neville spoke up, “It’s all in jest now, but we’ll clobber him at the end of the year if Slytherin gets the House cup.”

Everyone stared at Neville in surprise, causing him to squirm and eventually blush.

“What?”

“Neville, was that actually sarcasm I heard with my little ear?” Seamus asked.

“I’m experimenting,” Neville replied self-consciously. “I think my image could use some improvement.”

Seamus grinned broadly. He had that look in his eye and Harry stifled a groan. Poor Neville. Dean started sniggering. Parvati peered over at them with interest from her group of friends, having overhead the remnants of their conversation.

“Wanting to improve your image, Neville?” She asked. Beside her, Lavender hid her giggling behind her hand.

Ginny also happened to look over at them curiously, causing Harry to look away uncomfortably. She had never quite got over her crush.

“What image?” Dean asked in jest.

Neville blushed again. “Well, it was just a thought, I wasn’t, er, really...”

“Well Neville, my boy,” Seamus announced, slinging one arm around Neville’s shoulders, causing the other boy to jerk forward under the sudden weight, “You’ve come to the right person. Your mate, Seamus, can help you with all your needs.”

“Really?” Neville appeared hopeful.

“Neville no!” Harry warned.

“Shush!” Seamus warned, scowling at Harry. He turned back to Neville and his scowl melted into a reassuring smile.

“Neville, by the end of this year, every lass in this school will want a piece of you, you tiger. Take it from me, a drop-dead gorgeous bloke.”

“A face-ache, more like,” Dean muttered. Seamus saluted him without pause.

Seamus paused to rip off a corner of Neville’s stolen toast and through his chews, he added, “Trust me.”

***

“As if having Snape teach Sex Ed wasn’t a turn off enough, we have to have it in the Potions classroom, of all places,” Ron complained just before Hermione swung open the forbidding wooden door to their first class of the new term. “I wouldn’t exactly call eye of newt an aphrodisiac.”

“Sex ed isn’t supposed to get you in the mood, Ron.” Hermione rolled her eyes and shifted her sagging school bag, nearly ripping at the seams with her books. “It is meant to educate you, so you can at least pretend you know what you’re doing the next time you–”

“Let’s stop that line of thought right there, shall we?” Harry cut in, causing Hermione to flush with embarrassment.

“Sorry. A bit carried away there…” Hermione muttered and looked away. She suddenly became very interested in her bushy hair.

The trio entered the classroom and as always, they were nearly the last to arrive. Pockets of students were lazily sitting atop the desks, chatting and yawning, Slytherins on one side of the class room, Gryffindors on the other.

Upon seeing them, Draco nudged Goyle and Crabbe. Draco called out, “Hey Weasel, you had better take good notes today. I hear your love life with the Mudblood isn’t going so well.”

Ron turned a very bright red as the Slytherins began laughing. Harry inwardly cringed. This was bound to end badly. He was about to lay a placating hand on Ron’s arm, but it was Hermione who took action first.

With all the fearsome vindictive rage of a mother Kneazle who has had one of her kittens taken from her nest, Hermione swooped down on Draco, who, with widening grey eyes, had enough sense to lean back as far as he could from Hermione’s imminent wrath.

“Why you little, sniffling, whingeing ferret!” She spat. She was physically trembling with anger. Harry watched her, gobsmacked.

“At least Ron and I can claim to have a love life of any sort!” Her voice grew louder and more precise with the rise of her fury and the subsequent paleness of Draco’s face. “I don’t see you with anyone, you tosser. Do you get off with your two flunkies, huh? Or is it just your own hand that you have to wank with!”

“Ms. Granger, do sit down.”

All eyes fell on the tall, dark figure of their Potions master who had shuffled – not swooped like a big, black bat – into the room. Snape looked like a man who was told that he had been sacked, but knowing Snape, that would probably make him dance for joy.

Hermione looked like she was about to cry. Everyone was too stunned to react. Snape glared at the frozen tableau of shocked and scared students.

“Are you all too stupid to comprehend me? Sit down!”

They didn’t need to be told twice. There was a mad dash and shuffling of chairs, desks, and scrolls, as students found their seats with surprising efficiency. No one dared to so much as a squeak. No one except Draco.

“Sir! Did you hear what that Mud- Hermione said? Surely she can’t go unpunished,” Draco glared at Hermione, who looked stricken, clutching at her bag fiercely as if it could ward off all nasty Draco-like things. “She should be taken to see the Headmaster for this incident!”

“Ms. Granger, don’t do that again,” Snape sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sat at his desk.

That was it? Draco’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click in the dead silence of the room. Harry pinched himself under his desk. Nope, he wasn’t dreaming. He had just officially gone barking mad. Snape missing a chance to punish Gryffindor severely? What was going on? What next, Percy and Oliver Wood declaring themselves a couple?

“I can’t believe it,” Hermione whispered next to him. Her face had become as white as the knuckles that clutched her bag. “Why am I not expelled? Why?”

Snape opened his eyes and Harry observed his least favourite professor curiously. Snape looked positively miserable, as if lacking the very energy that made him such a bastard. The Potions professor was slumped at his desk, surrounded by unidentifiable, slimy specimens in multi-coloured jars, staring depressingly into nothing, not even taking away House points from murmuring Gryffindors.

So intent was he in his study of the Potions master that Harry didn’t notice that Snape had caught him staring. And was staring back. Actually, glaring and sneering.

“Potter!” Snape barked, causing Harry and half the class to jump.

Harry swallowed.

“Is there anything that you find particularly interesting about my person?” Snape nearly whispered in that super-super silky voice of his.

“Uh, n-no sir.”

“Ten points from Gryffindor for not paying attention. And five more for being such a twit,” Snape said. Whatever inkling of pity Harry had dredged up for Snape’s prior forlorn state quickly fled.

“I can see that none of you have managed to get your sorry little selves expelled yet, which, frankly, surprises me,” Snape began. Oddly, he was unconsciously fiddling with one of the scary jars on his desk. The slimy thing inside swished around in its syrupy yellow fluid, occasionally smashing up against the sides of the glass. It was nauseating. “Imagine my delight that after this year I’ll never have to teach you insipid little miscreants ever again, never mind having to look upon your empty faces each week.”

“What is that thing in the jar?” Harry heard Seamus mutter to Dean behind him.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for interrupting me. Mr. Finnigan, do you suppose that you are more qualified than I to teach the lesson? By all means, come up and do so,” Snape sneered.

Seamus fidgeted. “No, Professor. I, uh, didn’t...”

“Then shut up!”

“Yes, sir.”

Some of the Slytherins began openly laughing.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Hermione whispered to herself, apparently still dazed from her reprieve. The poor girl looked completely lost, as if the sky had become the ground and she had just failed all her exams.

Once again, Snape’s shoulders slumped and he looked up at some invisible deity in the sky, as if praying for supplication. His next bit was spoken so quickly and softly that Harry had to lean forward and strain his ears.

“I’mtoteachyouSexualEthicsandPractice. Here we shall review the mechanicsofsexual intercourse,maleandfemaleanatomy,thephysicalconsequencesofsexualintercourse,and the emotionalaspectsofrelationships. Any questions? None? Good, let’s move on.”

Snape paused and rubbed the side of his face with one hand. Harry thought he heard a muttered, “Bloody hell, get a grip on yourself, man,” somewhere in there, but that was more likely his imagination (Snape talking to himself?). With a deep breath, it was as if the ghost of the old Snape had stepped back into the physical body. The Potions professor sat up straighter and plastered an intimidating sneer across his features, fixing his students with his laser stare.

“Which one of you cretins can give me a definition of what sex is?” Snape had a very sibilant way of speaking. The ‘s’ and the ‘x’ in “sex” were emphasised to the point where Snape made sex sound particularly dirty.

Hermione’s hand shot up, ready with a dictionary definition, her wand just itching to spell out numerous labelled diagrams.

“Mr. Weasley,” Snape targeted Ron with a smirk, watching Ron, yet again, turn bright red, “Since your girlfriend has been extremely vocal on the subject matter, I am asking you, what does sex mean to you?”

Ron sunk lower in his seat as if wishing to blend into the floor. He refused to even look at Hermione or Harry. “Er...”

“Hmmm. I thought so. It seems that Mr. Weasley has just demonstrated the extent of his knowledge on the subject, wouldn’t we say?”

More Slytherins laughed. Ron clenched his quill so tightly, it snapped in half and splattered ink across his scroll. Hermione tensed next to him. Harry wanted to reassure them both somehow, but Snape began speaking again.

“You young people seem to think that sex can be equated with love, that a few gropes in the closet or a few kisses stolen behind the Quidditch storage shack seals your commitment forever,” Snape said disgustedly. “The truth of the matter is you are all so naively young that you cannot possibly know what love is. You have to learn it.

“While I’m not going to guarantee that you’ll find your true soul mate” – Snape spat out those three words with extreme venom – “I will guarantee that you’ll gain an understanding of what you really want out of relationships and out of life. I will guarantee that you will gain an awareness of how your turbulent and petty emotions are the result of your hormonally-charged little bodies and not the supreme rationale of your insignificant intellects or what is Fate.

“It is my hope that some shred of knowledge from these lessons will stay in your vacant little minds when you leave Hogwarts to whatever pathetic walks of life you may travel upon. That maybe you’ll use what is left of that disintegrating brain matter in your heads to make mature and responsible decisions.”

It was a good speech, actually, sprinkled with liberal Snape-isms, but – dare Harry think it – heartfelt. No, Harry shook his head, heartfelt? That would require a heart.

“Now, unfortunately, I am forced to meet with each of you at least once each term. The Headmaster is under the notion that you fools will feel the need to share your silly teenage problems with me.” Snape’s look made it resolutely clear that he, himself, was under no such notion. “I have scheduled each of you for a time to meet with me for this first time. My office hours are posted outside my office door.”

Neville gulped.

“In addition to the first meeting, I am required to keep an open door policy as the now-appointed counsellor to all your teenage angst and woe. Feel free to drop by during those times to discuss any problems that you may have.” Snape’s tone was about as inviting as he was friendly.

Harry felt like he had just swallowed a large rock and it sat in his stomach, cold and hard. A meeting with Snape to discuss how he was feeling? Not even Voldemort had been that cruel.

Hermione raised her hand. Snape glowered. “What is it now, Ms. Granger?”

“Will these sessions be confidential, Professor?”

“Like Ministry documentation, Ms. Granger.” Hermione nodded, looking thoughtful.

“Oh and Granger? Twenty points for your use of foul language towards another student earlier.” Draco appeared smug, though Harry was almost certain that he wished Hermione would have received a detention. That was forty-five points lost already. Sex Ed wasn’t even half over yet! Harry scowled and doodled on his parchments. Life was so unfair.

“Any other questions?” There were none. “Fine. Take out your set books and turn to the first page –”

“GOOD MORNING HOGWARTS!” A loud, female voice boomed throughout the corridors and classrooms with the obvious use of a sonorous charm. The voice echoed off the stones of the castle and reverberated multiple times.

Students looked around in confusion. Snape just rolled his eyes. “I see that Professor Figg has finally arrived at her station, a month late or so. That’s quite good for her, actually.”

“YOUR ILLUSTRIOUS DEFENCE PROFESSOR HAS ARRIVED.”

“This is such a ridiculous disruption. Albus should really...”

“SEVVIE? DO COME AND SEE ME! I’M STANDING IN THE FRONT HALL...

“I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO GREET ME.”

“Sevvie?” Seamus asked, trying to choke back a chuckle.

Snape froze, apparently mortified. Harry couldn’t blame him. Sevvie? Who would dare unless he or she had a death wish? Then again, Professor Figg was...eccentric, to say the least. At least she didn’t smell like cabbages anymore.

“SEEEEEEEEEVIE...”

“Oh, alright you blasted woman!” Snape growled, heading to the door. At the last moment, he whirled around and pointed at Draco. “Draco! You’re in charge of the class until I get back– ”

“SEVVIE?”

Snape winced. “I’m going to kill that old hag.”

As he rushed out the door, his robes impressively billowing behind him, but he stuck his head back in to add, “Oh, and Draco? Award and deduct as many House points as you need to.” With that, he was gone.

Draco grinned and the Gryffindors groaned. First day of classes and already hopes for the House cup were amazingly dim.

***

Severus stormed through the halls of Hogwarts intent on reaching Arabella before she could inflict more damage on his suffering reputation. That woman...she was insufferable! Severus scowled and students in his pathway fled down an alternate hallway or pressed themselves as far back against the walls as they could.

“SEVVIESEVVIESEVVIESEVVIESEVVIE...”

Fuck!

He could feel the stares of children as he swept by them, eyes trying to contain their mirth. Severus turned a corner and found Minerva stiffly walking towards him with and irritated expression on her stern features.

“So help me, Minerva, but I’ll kill her,” he growled as he continued swiftly walking to the front doors, Minerva keeping pace.

“She will most certainly get an earful from me as to her tardiness. Interrupting the school day, late for work, disregard for the rules,” Minerva said. “No wonder that the children simply love her.”

“The nerve of her to call me ‘Sevvie’, Minerva. Sevvie!” Although, half his mind was admiring the way his robes flowed behind him when he walked. It just came so naturally to him.

“Albus will have to hear my list of complaints. He will have to take me seriously.” Minerva nodded to herself, her mind made up. Severus snorted. The day Albus ever followed logic was the day he would sing the school song starkers on the Quidditch pitch.

The two of them walked in tandem and finally turned the last corner. Arabella Figg, Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts for two years running, stood in the open front doors of the castle. She was positioned in the middle of her numerous trunks, like the eye of a hurricane, one hand on her hip, the other carelessly holding her wand at her throat. Her hair, coloured with strands of grey, peeked out from the ugliest hat Severus had ever seen, creating a wild bedlam look about her. In fact, Arabella’s taste in clothing was extremely questionable. Her olive robes clashed horribly with that...yellow...thing...atop her head.

Upon seeing Severus, she grinned, “SEVVIE – OH – ! Quietus.” She smiled broadly. “Sevvie, it’s good to see you again!”

Arabella had big light brown puppy eyes that absolutely shined when she was happy. Severus tried to be stern, he was even about to launch into a tirade when he suddenly found himself with an armful of Arabella. The witch had thrown her arms around his neck, causing him to stumble backwards ungracefully. For such a small form, Arabella was heavy.

“Can’t – breathe!” He choked out. Arabella immediately released him. She was a good thirty centimetres shorter than him and her still-youthful features combined with her somewhat diminutive height (one couldn’t call her completely diminutive in comparison to Flitwick) made her look like one of the children. Except Hogwarts’ uniforms guaranteed that they weren’t adorned with such atrocious robes.

“Sorry, Severus dear! Oh, Minerva!” She exclaimed upon spotting the bland-faced deputy headmistress, “I didn’t see you. Are you well, my dear?”

“Oh, much better now that you’ve finally seen it fit to arrive at your station, Arabella,” Minerva sniffed. “I’m so delighted that you could find the time to drop by.”

If Arabella felt any guilt, she betrayed none of it. Instead, she shrugged, her dainty little shoulders reaching her ears in an over exaggerated gesture. “What can I say, Minerva? Tahiti couldn’t have enough of me. Do you like my tan, Severus?”

“Oh Merlin,” Minerva said under her breath, rolling her eyes. If anything, Arabella’s enthusiasm for life was infectious. It was rather difficult to stay angry at her for long, though Severus always held a healthy amount of annoyance.

Arabella lifted the sleeves of her two-sizes-too-large robe to show off her milky white English skin, perhaps a shade darker than its normal tint.

“You’re practically burnt, Arabella. But do refrain from calling me ‘Sevvie’,” Severus answered through clenched teeth. “You do realize that I have a reputation to uphold?”

“Oh, why not, Sevvie? It’s such a darling nickname! Suits you, also. Makes you sound as simple and sweet as a big, fluffy –”

“Arabella, if you value your life, don’t finish that sentence. And do not ever call me ‘Sevvie’ again.”

“You’re very grumpy today, Severus,” Arabella noted, crossing her arms and arching an eyebrow. She was better at it than he was.

At that moment, many house elves popped out of thin air, their large eyes growing even wider at Arabella’s possessions strewn about.

“Severus has taken on Albus’ new course, Sexual Ethics and Practice,” Minerva helpfully added, sidestepping an elf who was struggling with an exceptionally heavy trunk.

Arabella looked at him with disbelief. “No!”

“Thank you ever so much, Minerva,” Severus said dryly. Minerva looked mischievous and that was never a good thing.

“Severus and Sex Ed? It’s you? Honestly, when Albus owled me about his new idea for the class, you were the last professor I thought would take up the position. Oh those poor children!” At this, Arabella began cracking up.

“Yes, well, thank you for your comments on the matter,” Severus answered snidely.

“I think Severus will be a wonderful professor on the subject. He has quite an impressive lesson plan,” Minerva said. Arabella only laughed harder. “And Albus has his reasons.”

“To eternally torture me.”

“Severus,” Minerva chided.

“Oh! I’m so – sorry – Severus!” Arabella managed between chokes of laughter, attempting to calm down. Here eyes were brimming with unshed tears, “It’s – really – not that funny. No,” she wiped her eyes with the edges of her robe, “I think it’s a – whew! – fabulous idea, really. I’m sure you’re most suitable.”

Severus scowled.

“It just came as a bit of a surprise, that’s all.”

“Well,” Minerva said, “I still have classes to teach.” With a pointed glance at Severus, she turned and walked away. Whereas Severus’s robes billowed, Minerva’s robes flowed. It must have something to do with the wizard.

“Your usual room has been cleaned and aired out, Arabella,” Minverva called out as she walked away, “Your possessions are being moved there as we speak. You’ll start tomorrow, dinner is at 6 pm sharp!

“Try to be on time just this once.”

Arabella turned back to Severus. “Wow, Mum’s let me off easy.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I’d check your bed for hairballs later.”

“Good point.”

***

Sex Ed went by with nary a sight of Snape. By the end of the class, Draco had managed to deduct fifty House points from Gryffindor for everything from breathing too loud to “aggravating” authority.

“That snotty bastard!” Ron exclaimed as soon as they exited the class. “50 points, Harry! I’m going to complain to McGonagall that slimy little ferrets should be given authority like that."

“And it’s only Monday!” Harry complained. “Do you think Snape will be here for Potions after lunch, or is he too busy trying to bury Figg’s body somewhere?”

“And then we have to have a counselling session with Snape!” Ron continued ranting. “With Snape! One on one!”

“But did you see how Snape shut Draco up?” Hermione asked excitedly. “Did you see how I laid into Draco like that? And I didn’t even get a detention for it! I couldn’t believe it!”

She touched Ron’s arm, but to Hermione and Harry’s surprise, Ron shrugged her off roughly. “Ron? Ron what’s wrong?”

Ron turned on Hermione, a whirlwind of rage, “You! You’re what’s wrong! You and your big, bossy mouth! Do you think I appreciate your never-ending criticism about our relationship? Really, does the entire school need to know just how unsatisfied you are, even Snape?”

Hermione shrunk back as if she had been burnt as her bag fell to the ground, spilling out books, papers, and quills. “What?” she barely managed to whisper. Fiercely, she shook her head. “Ron, no, it’s not like that...”

“I know exactly how it is,” Ron said sadly, all rage having been suddenly drained away like a receding wave, “I’m just not enough for you, am I, Hermione? I’m such a huge disappointment and yet you oh-so-graciously settle for me anyway. Well, you don’t have to bother anymore. I’m tired of it. I’m through.”

Ron turned around and walked away, leaving a stunned and hurt Hermione in his wake.

Harry didn’t know what to do. He stood there awkwardly and watched Hermione’s eyes fill with tears. He just didn’t have experience with these kinds of things. “Hermione, I...”

“I think I need to be alone,” Hermione said. Her voice was rough from choking back tears. “I’m sorry Harry, I just can’t.”

With that, she turned and fled in the opposite direction, walking fast, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, and yet trying to behave normally, as if nothing was wrong, as if trying to keep some mode of dignity about her.

Harry was left standing there, dumbfounded. Hermione was so distraught, she had forgotten her bag and set books, which simply did not happen. A few seconds ago, everything had been fine, hadn’t it?

What had happened?

***

Two lone figures sauntered down the empty hallways of one of Hogwarts’s more isolated areas (though there were many, and some didn’t appear until full moons, and some only every 57 days). Light from the occasional burning torch provided haphazard visual and the languid dripping of water from some dark, hidden crevice fell on the castle’s stones in loud plops. Neither one was in too much of a hurry.

The shorter figure touched the rim of her hat, tipping it up slightly to the taller figure.

“Do you like my hat Severus?”

Severus hesitated. I will not tell the truth, I will not tell the truth, I will not tell the truth. Oh, bugger it. “What, did you strangle a house elf and skin it?”

Arabella sighed as she reached a hand out to skim the cool rock of the wall, trailing her fingers across its faults and perforations. “I almost missed your humour. But you know what they say, absence maketh the heart grow fonder and familiarity breedeth contempt.”

“You know, adding “-eth” onto the words does not excuse your abuse of awful clichés.”

She was very pretty when she smiled, as if something illuminated her from within. Her eyes crinkled up at the corners and her teeth were very white. “Regardless...it’s good to be home. And this is home. If feels like it.”

“If you can break the curse on the Defence position, it must be.”

“Never send a man to do a woman’s job. Especially when it comes to DADA,” Arabella said.

“Defence against the Dark Arts, not ‘DADA’. Hogwarts isn’t an art conservatory, Arabella.”

“Oh, excuse me for offending the well-cultured gentleman.”

Severus smirked. “And don’t you forget it.”

They were taking the roundabout way to Arabella’s rooms by mutual, silent agreement.

“Oh yes, now I know why Albus thought you’d be an excellent Sex Ed professor – it’s your social skills, isn’t it?”

“What goes on in Albus’s mind is beyond me. Let me assure you that my interest in the position is strictly monetary,” Severus said.

Arabella rolled her eyes. “If that were so, a teaching position would hardly make you a rich man. You would be some evil, mad potions scientist working for some nefarious wizarding chemical company if money really mattered.”

“Why on earth does everyone think that my only passion in life is potions?” Severus mused.

“Admit it, Sevvie, you care about these children to some extent. You just like to think that everyone is responsible for the supposed hell you’re living in.”

“Hell is other people.” Snape crossed his arms. “Why do you teach, Arabella? Obviously not to support your ghastly wardrobe.”

Offended, “And just what is wrong with my wardrobe?”

“Nothing,” Snape smiled grimly, “I’m sure it helped to blind your enemies during the war. Ah, yes, that must be it.”

“Forgive me for trying to add a bit of colour to my robes instead of prancing around in dour black all the time.”

“I don’t prance. And what is wrong with black?”

“It’s not yellow,” Arabella laughed. She had to be mad. She just had to. “And I teach because I want to. It was very good of Albus to call me back. Honestly, I was beginning to wonder how long I would’ve had to run around in that old biddy’s glamour. The smell of cabbage was beginning to make me sick.”

“I have never read anywhere that elder Muggles smell like cabbage.”

“I got that bit of information from a credible source, Severus. Top notch. Old Muggles smell like cabbages. I don’t ask why, I just do it,” Arabella explained reasonably. “And they like cats. Lots and lots of cats, especially the old, lonely women. Bloody things, cats.”

“And just who was this credible source?”

“Albus.”

“Ah.”

They continued on in silence for awhile.

“Well,” Arabella said stopping in front of a wooden door, “Here are my rooms. I thank you, good sir, for escorting me.”

“It was a pleasant time,” Severus half-bowed, “One can’t find good conversation these days.”

“The children are fortunate to have you, Sevvie. And I think you care very much.”

“It’s a ridiculous course, Arabella. The last thing these children need is encouragement to go and shag the closest breathing thing on two legs. And the last thing I need is to be party to that kind of information. I only care that they stop multiplying like a virus so I won’t have to teach their rotten spawn in twelve years. So, as you can see, I am not a good choice.”

“Methinks thou doth protest too much.”

Butchered Shakespeare. Wonderful. “I’ll see you at dinner. You heard Minerva, learn punctuality. Goodbye,” Severus said as he began to walk away.

“It’s more than just shagging,” Arabella called out after him, “It’s shagging and everything that goes with it. No one bothers to think about the everything else part. Severus!”

Severus stopped and turned around.

For possibly once in her entire life, Arabella looked decidedly serious. “I meant what I said. Now that I think about it, I can’t imagine anyone else for the job.”

“You also imagine that yellow and olive are complementary colours,” Severus scoffed, “And that is because you are as nutty as you look. ”

TBC in Chapter Four: In which Snape has his very first counselling session and Neville tries to improve his image

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

1 "...[Y]oung people, who are beginners in everything, cannot yet know love: they have to learn it." – Rainer Maria Rilke, from Letters to a Young Poet.

2 “Hell is other people!” A fun quote from Jean-Paul Sartre’s play, No Exit. Because existentialism is good for angst.

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