Professor Davies Explains it All

Professor Davies Explains it All

Sighing heartily, the seventh year Ravenclaws shuffled morosely into the dank, eerie dungeons and took their seats. It seemed a bit odd, not having another house in there with them, but then, they had a feeling this day was going to be very odd indeed. It was Valentine's Day, the day Roger Davies - Quidditch captain, prefect, and heartbreaker extraordinaire - prized above all others.

Here was a day he hadn't had to lift a finger to get a snog. That wasn't to say that any other day was tough, Roger had no trouble at all getting girls into an empty classroom or the broom shed behind the pitch, it was simply his way of life. Sure, there was the odd occasion that he would rather study, but then again, here were the perks of being a Ravenclaw; Roger had seduced many an unsuspecting witch during a "tutoring session."

This Valentine's Day, however, had turned out to be quite different. When they'd awoken that morning, they'd each received small pieces of parchment instructing them that there was a mandatory house meeting that afternoon in the Potions classroom precisely at three o'clock. When Roger had asked Professor Flitwick about the notice, the silly dwarf had simply turned red and nearly fallen off of his podium in front of the class during Charms with Gryffindor. Chalking it up to the V-Day spirit, Roger chose simply to ignore Professor Flitwick's antics and focus on the stunning trio of Gryffindor chasers instead.

After lunch, when Roger had to return to his dormitory to deposit the excessive amount of valentines he'd received, he and his roommates headed off to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Roger, however, never made it to the class - he much preferred to spend time with a fifth year Slytherin girl, Pansy Parkinson, than with that repulsive Umbridge woman. When he realized it was nearly three, and headed down into the dungeons, trying to wipe all evidence of Parkinson off of himself, he met up with his housemates, smiling cheekily, and receiving a few admonishing looks from Susan Fawcett, a fellow Ravenclaw prefect.

Susie's stern look was quickly melted by a helpless shrug by Roger, still trying to adjust his slacks so they looked somewhat less wrinkled (being thrown nearly out the window will do that to certain fabrics, I suppose...I had no idea Parkinson had such an arm), as well as a charming wink. Roger chuckled softly to himself as he tightened the tie around his neck. Ravenclaw girls were such pushovers for a pair of pretty eyes and sharp wits.

Nearly ten minutes later, sitting alone in the near-dark classroom, Roger had begun to wonder about the nature of the meeting that had yet to take place. Here he was, with his eight housemates who were in seventh year as well, and yet, there was no teacher or staff member of any kind. His initial thought was that the meeting would concern the alleged return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but after careful thought, he'd decided that Dumbledore would have made the announcement himself in front of the entire school, not the highest year of Ravenclaw. Superior though we may be...

After consulting his watch, stretching (and "accidentally" brushing his hand over Fawcett's chest, for which he apologised profusely), and yawning loudly, the thick doors to the classroom blew open furiously. The Ravenclaws turned to see who'd disturbed the peculiar silence when a low, poisonous voice hissed at them.

"Keep your eyes on the front!"

They did as they were told, a few of the boys looking a bit contemplative, a few girls acting frightened, and Roger, who was normally indifferent, suddenly sat up straight. This certainly had to do with the Dark Lord, or at least, the Death Eaters...why else would Snape be in such a foul mood?

Probably because he hasn't even felt a woman in twenty years...

Roger tried to cover his quiet snickering with a series of short, false coughs, and smiled brightly at Eloise Midgen, who innocently handed him an embroidered handkerchief. He remembered snogging her vividly...if one paid attention to her neck, the acne was nearly unnoticeable. That was, of course, very difficult to manage when Eloise was prattling on about the dangers of time travel in relation to the dangers of apparition. He'd settled on attempting to unbutton her blouse using only his teeth instead, and the night hadn't all been a waste. At least he'd acquired valuable skills.

Roger's attention was jerked back to the stark classroom, which reeked of various potions ingredients, by Snape slamming a heavy tome shut on top of his desk, which wobbled in protest. He could tell by Snape's heaving shoulders and red-rimmed eyes that whatever Snape had to announce, it wasn't going to be appealing.

"You all know why you are here," Snape hissed, straightening himself up and crossing his arms menacingly across his chest, still breathing a mite raggedly. He was met with a bristling murmur and a sea of rarely-confused Ravenclaw faces. Sighing, wanting to murder himself on the spot, Snape addressed the apparent lack of communication. "Would someone please inform the class as to their reason for being present?"

Silence.

Snape scanned the faces, some stricken, some absolutely bored, and one very interested.

"Mr. Davies, it appears you have a clue. Which, may I add, is not saying much. Enlighten us, please."

Roger's throat constricted. He'd never been without the answers before, and certainly didn't envy being in this position now. He screwed up his eyes, obviously trying to achieve a pensive look, and started gesturing vaguely in a scholarly manner. Eyeing Charlotte Brocklehurst out of the corner of his eye, he saw she'd leaned forward onto her elbows, making for quite a distracting view. Not that he hadn't seen that before, it was just...distracting.

"Er...Professor," Roger began hesitantly, before he finally realised he had nothing to be accountable for, as the notice hadn't contained information as to the purpose of the meeting. Making a quick save, and retaining his trademark Davies cool, Roger swiftly followed up. "The information we were given included nothing as to the purpose of this meeting."

Charlotte shifted, the motion catching the corner of his eye, and he was forced to pry his gaze from her jumper towards the desk in front of him. Snape summarily clapped his hands back onto the wooden desk, sighing heavily, as if the very action pained him excruciatingly.

"You, of all people, Mr. Davies," Snape hissed coldly, "should be better informed."

Roger was taken aback. Why is that prat lighting into me now? What have I ever done to him, eh? Sodding "meeting's" not worth my bloody time...

Roger sat back on his elbows, crossing his legs leisurely, draping back into that relaxed, masculine position that made girls go weak in the knees, a cheeky grin taking hold of his face. "So then, sir, inform me." Roger shrugged.

"Five points, Davies!" Snape was outraged at this moronic git's insolence, so much so that the Potions Master could feel the vein in his neck pulsing spasmodically. "For your information," Snape sneered venomously, "this will be a lecture, given by myself, to better educate you students on certain...delicate matters."

Ethan Wendell, sitting directly to Roger's right, flung his head off of the table and began to laugh contagiously, along with his roommate Afton Ackerley, when they'd finally realised the nature of Snape's "lecture." It had occurred to Roger by then, as well, who merely sat there staring at Snape, a wicked grin forming on his angular features. The girls, whispering quickly to one another, were giggling fervently, and Snape was having a time shushing the lot of them.

He cleared his throat gingerly, silencing the experienced students quickly, and began to proceed. Roger had tried, with difficulty, to focus on a flagrant stain on the floor beneath him so as not to merit being booted from the class - this was something he couldn't miss for the world.

"You are all maturing into adults now," Snape started reticently, "as such, it is imperative that you all are knowledgeable about the way things work."

The class snickered gently at Snape's words. Roger had the feeling that with such an astute class of Ravenclaws, Snape was going to have a time saying anything but double entendres and innuendos. He could see Eloise turning red already from the corner of his left eye.

"If you are anything like my Slytherins, there is no doubt most of you are already experienced in this field."

Roger raised his hand brazenly. Snape had expected this, just not from Davies, who was prefect. Not to mention Quidditch captain. He should have known better.

"This is a lecture, Mr. Davies, as you sh - "

"It's been my experience, Professor, that your serpents are a bit lacking in that department. I'm not quite sure about the blokes, but the witches - "

"Silence!" Snape muttered, almost a whisper, spittle flying from his mouth.

The Ravenclaws giggled with a new ferocity, and it took Snape four minutes to successfully draw their attention back to himself, which is where he needed it the least at that moment, or wanted it, for that matter.

"That will be another five points, Davies," Snape said quietly, panting. "Now, as I was saying, there is no doubt that at least some of you have been enlightened on the subject of sexual intercourse."

Susie couldn't contain her giggles, and as soon as Snape could bring himself to do it, he shut her up with a silencing charm. Susie merely sat there, shoulders jiggling slightly, turning red in the face and breathless. Roger had to admire the Potions Master's work - not only had he rid them of Susie's ridiculous laughter, but additionally, he could clearly see that Susie hadn't worn her brassiere with the extraordinary support today. Who needed wires, in any case? This was more splendid than a Holyhead Harpies match...

"First, I want to cover the basics." Roger shifted uncomfortably in his chair as Snape attempted to continue. "We're not intellectually stunted here, students, and so I will try to convey this to you in adult terms..."

"I'm sure the lot of you can imagine the rudimentary mechanics...you all know what goes where. Repeat as necessary. When, er, well...I'm sure you would all know when to stop."

Snape had suddenly gone a pale chartreuse colour, which, to Roger's surprise, rather annoyed him. The berk hadn't any clue of what he was regurgitating. If it were Roger's guess, he'd suppose that Snape, ridiculous as it sounded, had never had any experience in this department, and it was just like Dumbledore to exploit that small foible. The class was being trumped, yet again, out of a sound education, as they had been with their many inept teachers of the past. Who could forget Gilderoy Lockhart? At least he might have been of some assistance in this category...Roger remembered that even Eloise had flaunted a little extra leg in Defence Against the Dark Arts their fourth year.

"Sir, I'm confused, desperately," mocked Wendell, whiningly.

Snape had begun to grip the table with such rage that his knuckles had turned as white as bone. Dumbledore had done this to him on purpose, that much was clear, as no students were as perceptive and cutting as these arrogant, insufferable Harpies. He'd finally had enough - after ten years of preaching the rules of safety and protection to these insolent fools, who were merely itching for a quick shag in some abandoned classroom, he was finished.

In frustration, Snape tightened his arms defensively about himself, and hunched his shoulders, his eyes burning a hole into Davies'.

"If that is your attitude," Snape groaned, "then I will be forced to send Professor Umbridge in to enlighten you. Unless you think you can do a better job."

Charlotte's face lit up at Snape's suggestion. "Sir," she waved her hand impatiently until he acknowledged her, "sir, I have a suggestion!"

"Yes, Miss Brocklehurst, what is it already?"

"Sir, why not let Roger teach the class!" she cried triumphantly. This way, not only would she be taught by a knowledgeable expert, but she would be able to admire Roger's finely tuned, muscular body as well. It was difficult when he was sitting, not to mention hiding behind Wendell.

Something clicked inside of Snape's head, and he was aware that not only would it free him from the rigor of having such a task, but, from an educational standpoint, the students may get something out of it as well. He smiled, only slightly, but a twisted, meek smile nonetheless.

"That, Miss Brocklehurst," he purred, "is an excellent idea."

"Yeah!" Wendell affirmed, "As we all know Rodge gets more arse than a broomstick!"

The class laughed, and Roger showily made his way up from his seat into the area in front of the class where Snape had previously stood. No one had even seen Snape leave - Roger had simply assumed he'd slid back into his office or the like.

Very cheekily, peering about the room at the eight students seated before him, Roger cleared his throat, throwing the girls a very dazzling smile. It was overshadowed only by his raven hair and devastating good looks. Very subconsciously, another seventh year witch, Ailea Quirke, let out an aroused sigh. Roger was very glad for the robes that were essential to the uniform of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He'd been around, yes, but girls who made those sorts of noises were generally after something.

"Right, then," Roger rubbed his hands together salaciously, "let's to it then, shall we?"

Eloise swooned at his deep, sexy voice. She'd give anything to have a Professor like Roger Davies - in more ways than one. And she had.

"I believe my cohort Professor Snape was correct in assuming that we all know the general mechanics, insert Tab A into Slot B and so forth...which brings us to the fun part of copulation. I like to refer to it as experimentation."

The boys snickered wildly as the girls giggled and made flirtatious eyes at "Professor" Davies, who winked back at Susie naughtily.

"There are several ways to er, spice up your sex life," Roger said stoutly. "For example, I would highly recommend a small red book found in the Restricted Section. It sits in the "F" shelf, third from the left, and it's a bit rough around the binding. I can't tell you the title because I'd probably be deducted points for swearing."

Ethan chuckled throatily.

"I can also tell you that whenever you're in doubt, the shin guards normally used for a good match of Quidditch are very quintessential when dealing in stone floors, gravel, or even straw."

Snape watched the rest of class with a wary eye, as "Professor" Davies gave it to his housemates straight. He was ashamed of feeling jealous of an eighteen-year-old boy who couldn't seem to keep his knickers on for large amounts of time. He was certain the longest Davies had ever gone without having shagged was the three-day match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, in which Malfoy all but killed Cho Chang to keep her away from the Snitch.

Snape had to admit, Wendell's comment, while rather amusing, was true...

Roger Davies, much like his mother, certainly got more arse than a broomstick. Snape could only attest personally to the libido of Mrs. Davies, but he was sure there wasn't a girl at Hogwarts above fourth year that couldn't testify truthfully that they hadn't shagged Roger Davies.

Dumbledore really should look into tapping the teaching potential of one Roger Davies...and why on earth is Miss Midgen removing her necktie?