4: Try NOT to Be Fruitful and Multiply

Disclaimer: Do I look like J.K. Rowling to you? Really? Better call your optometrist, then.

Author's Note: From here on out, the weirdness, naughtiness, and possibly even the rating of this story will be ratcheting upwards. Hopefully no one following this is unable to access an 'M.' What will the climax bring? (Um, yes, that phrasing was deliberate.)

Please see the WARNING! at the beginning of the Prologue. Neither dracontia nor The Petulant Poetess is responsible for spit takes ruining your clothes, electronic equipment, or interpersonal relationships.

Chapter 4: Try NOT to Be Fruitful and Multiply

By the third day of Reproductive Health with Snape, Hermione decided it was scarcely worthwhile to initiate discussion or ask a question. Discussing anatomy and physiology had gone over like a stone biscuit, his idea of elaborating on the female reproductive cycle and birth was to pile on intimidation, and he was depressingly unresponsive when it came to arousal.

It was rather disappointing. She had come to expect her professors to expand upon the texts, offering insights and insisting on thought. Snape normally did his share of that, though he always added a spoonful of sarcasm to make the information go down a bit raw. In this class however, all that was left of his usual approach was the sarcasm. He hadn't even demonstrated the prophylactic and contraceptive charms, insisting they should be able to cast simple charms from written instructions by now. Hermione found this another sad letdown; whatever his disdain for 'wand waving,' the professor certainly did it with style.

Yes, as she waited for her next class, she could just picture in her mind how his every motion would be crisp and precise, with a neat little flourish (though nothing unnecessary). It was enough to make her mind wander from the book she was reading...one of her 'independent study' texts for Reproductive Health...leaving her not especially alert to her surroundings. She realized her mistake as the ambient light abruptly vanished. Cause of the eclipse: Millicent Bulstrode.

"Granger, we need to talk," she said in a tone that tacitly added 'or else.'

Don't panic, Hermione. You helped face down Voldemort, remember? she thought rapidly. Yes, but your record against Muscular Millie is two...nought, in her favor.

"About what, Bulstrode?" she asked warily. It didn't help that her occasional tormentor was backed by apparently the entire seventh year female population of Slytherin.

"These sex classes, Snape, and you. It was bad enough that at the start of this mess he took points from Slytherin. But yesterday, he crossed lines! All that unnecessarily disgusting stuff about monthlies and hormones has set us witches back. I don't know what it's like on your end, but our blokes are acting absolutely third-yearish. Yesterday afternoon my man ran from me like he had Billywigs in his robes."

Considering Millie's 'man' was Greg Goyle, that made for an interesting picture.

"And that description of childbirth! Great Taweret, if witches were that delicate, there'd be nothing left of our kind. Trying to get a thorough rogering from a Slytherin bloke since then is like trying to find a Puffskein's teats. It's not on!"

Hermione thought the Taweret reference was ironically apt. If any person living was an avatar of the bewigged hippopotamus goddess, it was Millicent Bulstrode. She could have done without the 'rogering' comment, though.

"We need to get some of our own back, and juvenile crap from Zonko's or the Prat Twins won't cut it. We need to hit him where it hurts. That's where you come it. The only thing that irritates him more than fools are swots who ask pointed questions and know the material inside out. We need whatever you're getting this stuff from so we can study it. And we also need a lead-in, so our comments won't seem to be coming from somewhere off the pitch. You start us off, and we'll follow."

Hermione handed over the book she'd been looking at without hesitation. It was the least interesting of her collection; more sexual trivia than anything else, but that was probably what Bulstrode was after. "Borrow the book if you like. But unless you've a prophecy saying a Muggle-born Gryffindor has to be the sacrificial lamb, why are you asking me for help? I'm not keen to lose more points for my House." It's not as if I have a boyfriend, or even any prospects of one at the moment, she thought sourly.

Millicent shrugged. "You obviously have access to books we don't, and everyone knows you can speak up without making an arse of yourself. Best of all, aside from Potter, no one else gets on Snape's last nerve worse than you.

"Bloodlines don't matter here. What's important is that we're all witches with needs, and no wizard gets the better of us. He'll take points from Gryffindor for breathing if he's so minded. Make it worth the price you pay just for being in his class."

There was a dubious distinction: world's second greatest irritant, according to Severus Snape. Was Bulstrode inventing, or had Hermione missed something? She thought she'd been paying better attention. "Allowing for the moment you're right, what's in it for me?"

Voices drifted down the hallway, and the Slytherin girls scattered, leaving the scene or taking up falsely casual poses as if nothing of a conspiratorial nature had occurred. She wondered if Slytherins were taught to evade detection, or if it came naturally.

"That's an almost Slytherin attitude, Granger. I like it. If you agree, we'll give you something that's never been outside our House: the Syllabus of Slytherin Sexual Secrets, though we usually call it 'the little green book'." Millicent pulled out her ace in the hole...a green leather-bound volume that had about the same dimensions as a narrow address book. "Master this stuff, and any man will be putty in your hands on the very first go. Offer ends when the owners of those voices come into sight."

Hermione bit her lip, considering. She hated to lose even a few points, but if there was one bribe she couldn't resist, it was knowledge. At the very least, maybe she could finally confirm or refute those 'Slytherins and the Squid' rumors floating about the school. "I'll agree to trade books and start off with a question or two tomorrow. Anything else is up to you."

"Deal," she replied tersely and shoved the green book at Hermione. By the time it was safely stowed away, Millicent was walking along pretending to be deep in conversation with Pansy Parkinson. (At least, as deep as was possible considering Pansy's shallowness.)

Amazing, Hermione thought. Bulstrode may seem nearly as wide as a troll, but it appears she's not nearly as thick.

The toll on the professors was obvious by day three. McGonagall was muttering something about 'coddling the wee diagrams,' and Sprout didn't seem amused, for once. Vector curled up on a chair in the corner, red-eyed and clinging to a cooling teacup with shaky fingers, in anticipation of the class she'd have to teach that afternoon. Her weepy appearance was such that even Trelawney came off her incense cloud long enough to attempt comfort. Granted, it was in the form of checking Septima's tea leaves and averring it would all be over soon, but the thoughtfulness was touching.

Snape had the just-barely-held-together look that had characterized his first few weeks of teaching. Flitwick decided offer a Cheering Charm by way of reconciliation. It was impossible for Filius to remain angry with anyone for very long...particularly Severus, whom he still recalled as a nervous first year who would have made the Creevey brothers look robust. Severus declined, but thereafter looked less combustible.

Lupin shuffled into the room, his condition having run its course...only to feel as if he'd stepped through the looking glass. Far from being their usual professional selves, his colleagues looked like he felt. A few were shooting him glances as if it were somehow his fault.

"Remus, can you take my rounds tonight? It's terribly important," Pomona asked, fidgeting.

"I'm sorry, Pomona, but I need at least one full night's sleep to get my strength back," he apologized.

"For the love of Circe, will someone please take my rounds?" Sprout begged. "If I don't get into Hogsmeade before this weekend, I won't be responsible for my actions!"

Her plea was met with half guilty, half resentful silence, punctuated occasionally by Septima blowing her nose.

Finally Quill sighed without looking up. "I'll do it, Pomona. Wouldn't want Rosmerta thinking you've abandoned her."

Lupin dropped the beaker of coffee he'd just Summoned, creating an artistic arc of muddy fluid on the rug. Snape made a curious choking sound.

"What's gotten into you two? You know very well I don't fancy men," Sprout huffed.

"I don't think they knew Rosmerta doesn't fancy men," came the amused voice from behind a treasured cuneiform tablet.

Just then, Rolanda walked in. Remus' fiery cheeks could have been attributed to chagrin at having caused the spill he was tending to. Severus wasn't so lucky. "Venus' tits, Severus, you look like a first year who just found out there's no Easter Bunny."

Filius tried his best to suppress an amused smile. "He learned the truth about Rosmerta. Really, Clara, I thought we'd agreed not to disillusion the lads."

"I'm sorry," Quill said apologetically. "It slipped out."

"Remus didn't know, either," Severus pouted. He refused to be the only one looking stupid here.

"Does Charlie already know, then?" Remus asked, hoping the answer would be negative. He wasn't keen on feeling foolish, either.

The silence was profound. One could imagine hearing crickets chirp.

"You straighten Remus out," Quill grumbled, burying herself in her eyeglasses and tablet again. "My dietary requirements of foot have been met for the week, thanks."

Minerva, out of patience, decided to complete the clearing of illusions. "Charlie never had a schoolboy crush on Rosmerta. Nor on any lass," she finished, applying emphasis carefully.

Severus decided it would seem childish if he said, 'I knew that!' so he settled for looking smug.

Remus shook his head like a dog shedding water. "All right, I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning. Filius, the bar wouldn't happen to be open, would it? And can it produce anything that will make me feel less like death on toast? Coffee or tea just isn't quite going to do it this morning."

"I think I can scare something up," Filius said sympathetically as they headed out.

Quill moved subtly over to Snape. "I am sorry, Severus; perhaps this will help," she said discreetly, pulling a substantial sheaf of parchment from somewhere in her drapey layers. "I finished the definitive rendering of the Slytherin House journals that you asked for. I must say, even though they were only written in archaic English, the penmanship of Salazar's successor made them quite a worthy project." Her big brown eyes, uncharacteristically not squinting at anything for the moment, projected genuine contrition.

Under better circumstances, he might have actually cracked a smile at receiving these long awaited documents. As it was, they did something nothing else would have at that point...took the edge off his annoyance. "Thank you, Clara. At least I have something to look forward to at the end of this hellish week."

"You haven't forgotten our plans, have you?" Minerva asked sharply. She was counting on Severus to help her with tactics, seeing as how 'sneaky' was his forte.

"Right. Well, perhaps I'll just read a bit now to tide me over."

Vector wandered off to her doom with Pomona whispering 'good luck' for all the good it did. The room grew quiet again. Still, if Hooch had been sitting farther away, she would have missed Snape's gasp. "Problem, Severus?" she asked.

He looked up from the documents, blinking and doing a fair impression of an owl. He suddenly felt much better about not having carried out that particular Slytherin tradition, though it certainly gave one pause to consider how many others had heeded the supposed advice of that passage over the years.

Finally he murmured, "The original reads Squib!"

Vector was practically hiding behind her desk and literally jumped in her chair when the door creaked slowly open to reveal Luna Lovegood, arriving well beforetime for the dreaded class.

"Good afternoon, Professor Vector," she said sweetly; then her dreamy eyes clouded as she noticed her professor's red-eyed, haggard appearance. "Are you feeling well, Professor? You know, it's the season for Ice-licking Horklump allergies," she added, sounding most concerned.

It was worthwhile, putting Luna in the front row, Septima decided. No one else had a chance of making her smile on a day like this. "Nothing like that, Miss Lovegood. I... I'm just worried about how I'm teaching this class. I know it's very important for you to learn this information, but I just don't feel comfortable... talking about... sex," she managed to force out, stomach churning.

"Yes, some people do find it a little embarrassing. But I think you've been doing a good job so far, though some of the boys complained after class that they had trouble hearing you yesterday. You've relayed all the information. After all, it's just another subject, isn't it?"

Granted, this was praise from Luna Lovegood, but it was still heartening. "Why, thank you, Miss Lovegood. But I just don't see how I'm going to get through this. How can people talk about something as... animalistic and messy as mating as if it were just another subject?" she couldn't help asking, a bit plaintively.

Luna tipped her head and looked thoughtful. "Well, harvesting Bubotuber pus is messy, but people manage to talk about it all the time. I suppose sex is a little base at the mechanical level. But wizards and witches aren't animals. Loving the other person sort of elevates the process, doesn't it?"

"No amount of love could make it less awkward," Vector said in a nervous voice, wishing her bangs were a little longer. It would be nice to have something behind which to hide her rapidly warming face during this discussion.

"I guess the first time tends to be uncomfortable. But messes can be cleaned, and I don't know if anyone gets it right on the first try. I always thought that practicing with the one you love until you perfect the process was supposed to be part of the fun," she said innocently.

Vector was startled. "You haven't been...practicing...have you?"

Luna smiled. "Not yet. But it's like anything you might have to learn, isn't it? Read, practice, talk about it, and learn it bit by bit. Once I'm quite sure I have the right wizard, we'll just try things, and if they don't work, I imagine we'll try something else. People have been doing it since there've been people. Not everyone who is good at it is brilliant, so it can't be that difficult to work out."

Professor Vector was sunk so deeply in thought that Luna simply wandered off and sat down, assuming the conversation was over. It wasn't unusual for people to acquire an odd expression and stop responding to her words after a while.

She was therefore rather surprised when the professor's soft voice carried over to her. "Thank you, Miss Lovegood. Those are some very interesting insights. I suppose... it might be easier for someone who isn't brilliant because they don't over-think things or expect to do everything perfectly, right off."

Luna brightened. "Oh, you're welcome, Professor Vector. And if you ever have any trouble with allergies, please let me know. I have just the thing for them."

Vector managed a wan smile. "I'll try to remember that."

Immediately after her last class for the day, Hermione cheerfully delved into the book she had been given by Millicent. Some of it was a bit cringe inducing, but she persevered, discovering a myriad of fascinating ideas on what constituted apt sexual behavior for Slytherins. There was a good bit of instruction on what sounded like very advanced kinkiness, indeed; it even hinted at something about the potential utilization of a squid, though she found the wording of that reference odd. However, most of the information seemed devoted to how not to embarrass oneself in one's first sexual encounter. If every Slytherin studied this and mastered it, maybe the rumors about them weren't just idle gossip.

It also strongly emphasized the idea of practice. It was all well and good to have the information in mind during one's first encounter, but actually practicing the maneuvers could ensure success. A little transfiguration would yield the necessary tools, and there were even Charms that would allow her to have feedback on whether she was performing the motions correctly.

Hermione read a little farther then decisively unsheathed her wand. There was just enough time to try the first three basic operations before dinner. Now, for something she could transfigure into the proper shape; maybe that perfume bottle would do...

McGonagall was fairly certain the students were about as eager to hear her discuss intercourse, contraception, and masturbation, as she was to have to discuss it. Best to get it over with as quickly as possible. After all, it was just one more subject.

"You know why we're here, ladies and gentlemen. Today's topic is intercourse and related activities. Does anyone need to review anatomy?"

The chorus of 'Nos' was unanimous and particularly emphatic from the male population of the classroom.

"First up, if you're going to have sex in any position, you'd best do it safely. Unless you and your partner are completely monogamous and have both tested clean for the array of sexually transmitted diseases we're going to discuss tomorrow, you will need to use a prophylactic charm. Both parties need to perform it lest some wee nasty bug get through. Contrary to popular belief, it doesn't dull the sensations of intercourse. It can be felt, but it's a matter of personal preference whether that enhances, detracts from, or is utterly inconsequential to, the act."

Lavender Brown hesitantly wiggled her fingers in the vicinity of her ear. Minerva decided that was probably meant as a raised hand, and responded. "Question, Miss Brown?"

"Um, yes, professor. I can't find where it mentions, uh, sensation in the text," Lavender said, puzzled.

"It's not there," McGonagall answered crisply. "These books cover the basics more than adequately, but I deem it best that you have the most complete information possible."

Must they stare at her so blankly, as if they'd no idea how she could have additional information on the topic? It was quite annoying, really. Did they think teachers took vows of chastity? Or that sexual desire dried up at about age thirty?

Well, she'd be damned if she was going to elaborate on the sources of her practical knowledge. Rolanda was welcome to keep the title of 'most uninhibited Gryffindor of all time.' In a state of indignation, she made them practice both the prophylactic and contraceptive charms until they got them right. By the time intercourse was thoroughly addressed, Minerva was resigned to breezing right through without imparting any additional wisdom.

"All right, we're to masturbation, and we're going to make it quick. For the simple fact that people can and will do it, your text mentions safety issues...but I'd like to emphasize a few points, just in case you were tempted to glide over that bit in your reading.

"Ladies, please heed the admonishments regarding cleanliness, lubrication and safe use of, shall we say, foreign objects. There are shops that sell such things, but any competent witch should be able to Transfigure her own. Just don't go overboard on the size. Despite how wizards brag, none of them is hung like a Hippogriff...and if you've been paying attention in Care of Magical Creatures, you'll know that's for the best.

"Whatever you do, don't use a wand! That is unquestionably one of the places they were never meant to go, and anything with that narrow a circumference probably isn't going to prove very satisfying anyway."

The males had more or less reconciled to the idea of having McGonagall instead of Snape, once she'd put away her pointer. The females were now beginning to wonder if they really had the lesser of the two evils, since rumor had it Snape had blown by this topic so fast as to leave a vapor trail.

"If, despite using caution, you end up with something in a place it ought not be, get to a qualified Healer immediately. Nobody ever died of embarrassment, but a courgette in the plumbing can result in some very serious medical issues, indeed.

"And for goodness' sake, if you fly solo...so to speak...mind what works for you. The chances are excellent that your man won't have a clue how to please you, so you'll have to show him."

That last bit was enough to thoroughly shut up the few snickers from the males. Minerva relied upon decades of teaching experience to suppress a self-satisfied grin.

"Now, gentlemen! It's a bit more straightforward for you, so I'll get right to the point. I'm going to assume you're all familiar with the basic process..."

For an awful instant, the boys were afraid she'd actually go into detail.

"...but some men attempt variations that are best not tried, and just in case any of you lads has heard of them, I need to make certain you don't try to follow through.

"First of all, your text isn't nearly emphatic enough regarding the dangers of devices, magical or otherwise, or suction spells. St. Mungo's has a discreet ward on the Spell Damage floor devoted to the things that can go wrong with a lad's equipment when he uses spells or devices on it. It's especially dangerous to get yourself off by pushing belly-down into the mattress. Nothing makes a penis useless for intercourse faster than shoving it against the bed with the full weight of your body, and it's not a matter of if you'll do yourself an injury, but when. You'll be lucky if you can ever please any lass again.

"That being said, the traditional method had one thing to recommend it besides safety...the chance to practice. Your witch will thank you if you use that time behind your bed curtains, with a Silencing Spell, to build up your endurance."

The ladies grew more amused as the gents grew more uncomfortable. All the gents, that is, except Neville. His ears had gone pink, but he was still taking notes.

Her perfunctory 'Are there any questions?' was supposed to have been rhetorical; however, Longbottom was in the class.

"Professor?" he managed to ask timidly, raising his had scarcely higher than Miss Brown had.

There were a few unkind folks who sniggered into their books. Most of the class, however, simply felt a lurch of sympathetic embarrassment in their guts and braced themselves for the dropping of poor Neville's latest clanger.

Professor McGonagall almost deliberately passed him by. She really thought it would be a kindness, not to allow the lad to embarrass himself. Still... if he had a question, he had the right to an answer. Were Gryffindor courage defined as persevering despite all the evidence indicating you hadn't a Horklump's chance at a Gnome convention, Longbottom should get the title of the bravest lion of the lot.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?" she finally responded. It was with tremendous self-control that she refrained from sighing.

"I...um, it's all very well to have so much information on, um, sex. But it doesn't much help one get to that point, does it?"

It's worse than I thought, Minerva reflected despairingly. How do I break it to him gently that this course is not 'advice for the lovelorn?'

Neville was oblivious to McGonagall's internal dilemma as he forged ahead. "After all, what if a chap's met the most wonderful witch, and now would like to know if he's got a chance at being more than just friends? She's as beautiful, intelligent, kind, and interesting as he could ever hope for. They've got common interests and have spent a bit of time together, getting on pretty well. How does this, ah, fellow we're talking about let on how incredibly special she really is?"

Neville was fairly used to being stared at, but this wasn't anything like the usual stare. The males were incredulous. The females all had a sort of half-surprised, half-misty look that he would have found puzzling, had he eyes for any feminine face in the classroom except one. He was pleased to note that one was favoring him with a most encouraging little sideways smile.

This time, Minerva did allow herself a sigh...of relief. "Mr. Longbottom, if you tell her anything resembling what you just said, I imagine she'll catch on. And no doubt be favorably impressed, as well." Before Neville could think of anything else remotely related to the topic, she hastily dismissed the class.

Evidently the ladies had been taking note as well. As McGonagall dismissed the class, there were a good few witches wondering whom, exactly, the closet romantic had wanted to impress. After all, he certainly hadn't been talking about a theoretical girl. Come to think of it, that Order of Merlin wasn't just awarded as a courtesy, and he wasn't half bad to look at with the baby fat gone. To their dismay, he made a beeline for Padma Patil before anyone could maneuver for a word. When she smiled at him, he was stuck grinning rather foolishly back for long moments before remembering what he'd meant to say.

"Padma, I've been working on a project for my Herbology N.E.W.T. It's a new gnome-resistant hybrid of the Northern Stellar Orchid, and it's particularly fragrant in the starlight. Would you like to see it this evening after dinner?"

Padma's smile suddenly faded. "I'd love to, Neville, but I really need to practice for a quiz of Professor Flitwick's. It's one of my last chances to have a thorough go-through on some of the material that's bound to appear on the N.E.W.T. Maybe tomorrow evening?"

Now Neville's face fell. "Bother. I promised Professor Sprout I'd help her with the sun-racing Heliocanthus seeds in their temperature-controlled frame tomorrow evening. Could we study for the Charms Quiz together? I have the same class, you know."

Padma brightened again. "Of course! And we could always visit your orchid Friday night...couldn't we?"

With the last iota of awareness that was remotely connected to his power of speech, Neville managed to reply with some form of affirmative. The rest of his mind was floating somewhere high above the castle, singing 'Padma asked me out!' Granted, he had suggested the orchid first... but she had moved it to Friday night, which officially made it a date.

Dean shook his head as he watched them go off arm in arm. "Who could have guessed... Neville as Prince Charming?"

Betony Magallanes clutched her books to her Hufflepuff tie and sighed. "Evidently, Padma did. And she wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw for nothing."

Albus Dumbledore may have been done fighting wars, but he would never stop being a general.

He had attacked the puzzle of the arithmantically complex spell and come up with some intriguing implications. One of his own was connected, but there was no evidence of direct involvement. He had used contacts to make discrete inquiries, discovering extensive Owl Post activity and possible interruption of messages to the school in the recent past. He had even gone so far as to do something he had never planned to do again...he had called upon the talents of his spy.

It was the General's Dilemma: he had information, but not enough for comfort. He had excellent people under his command, but even the best people make mistakes. The decision came down to him, and responsibility for the consequences of his decision would follow.

That was how he measured his age...not in years, but in how long it took him to make decisions. And judging by the trouble he was having with this one, his last birthday had been the milestone year of 'too damn old for this.'

Albus decided to let things run their course. He had seen enough of Dark magic to know nothing of that sort was at work here, not even its distant cousin. His instincts told him that there was deception involved, but without malice. The classes had the potential to do some good; there was no point in stopping the last class, nor the exam Friday, as it did nothing to impact the student's marks. His people had proved themselves time and again; he would see that they had all necessary material for their expedition and trust that they would sort it all in a responsible manner.

And should things go badly, there was always his spy... in place and ready to prevent any bad situations from getting worse.

Author's Notes:

Taweret: Ancient Egyptian goddess of childbirth, invoked to promote a safe pregnancy and delivery. She was a monstrous composite of hippopotamus, crocodile, and pregnant woman in a long, black wig. She's the first thing I think of when anyone mentions Millicent Bulstrode. There are many ways of spelling her name; I picked my favorite (one that looks easy to pronounce).

Courgette: In Italy or America, a zucchini. Do you think Sprout is going to have to ward that particular greenhouse?

Thank you to MSN's Sexploration Column (by Brian Alexander) for the idea for the 'discrete ward' Minerva mentioned in her cautions against unsafe soloing. Turning to medical (and occasionally criminal) reports, he recounted numerous cringe-inducing incidents of males and females doing some really awful things to themselves in the interest of self-pleasuring.