Epilogue: Dumbledore Saw It, Feigned Barminess, and It Was Good

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Epilogue: Dumbledore Saw It, Feigned Barminess, and It Was Good

Graduation that year was rather interesting...to say the least.

Madam Hooch had been prevailed upon to start giving Draco lessons as soon as N.E.W.T.s were over, on the technicality that, while still more or less the school's responsibility, their marks had already been decided and they were therefore no longer students. They respected her need for a certain level of discretion. Veneramorphmagi may not be explicitly rejected by the Wizarding world, but they weren't exactly widely admired and accepted, either.

The evening before the graduation ceremony, Harry hustled Ginny into the Head Girl's room, which Hermione would not be occupying for some time due to helping Professor McGonagall Transfigure chairs. At the door, he conjured a silk blindfold and put it on her.

"Harry, are you going to tell me what's going on here?" Ginny asked, deliberately feeling at some sensitive spots as she pretended to look for his guiding hand.

"No, my lovely...I'm going to show you," he whispered, carefully directing her questing fingers upward until she found another face. That hair felt familiar.

"Hello, Draco," she said, smiling and trying to peek out from under the blindfold. Harry tapped her admonishingly on the head and started directing her hand again.

"Keep guessing," Harry said, his voice rich in amusement. Ginny heard a familiar giggle as her hands slid downward to touch... oh, my...

She gasped, and ripped off the blindfold. There was... well, it was sort of Draco. Except for the breasts.

"Hooch assured me I'm good to go," he...she?...said in a slightly more feathery version of her usual voice. "Harry was such a love...he bought me these in commemoration of my first transformation," she continued, smiling and turning proudly to model the green silk demi-bra, thong with pearl back, and matching suspender belt, which held up a very flattering pair of sheer gray stockings on her slender legs.

Ginny sidled up to 'Miss' Malfoy slowly, unable to suppress her anticipatory grin. "Just one more thing you need, gorgeous," she said, pulling a tube of lipstick from her pocket. Draco extended her lips in a pretty pout, and Ginny stroked the color on. "Perfect," she breathed, and wasted no further time pulling her blonde paramour into a kiss.

Draco sighed as she allowed Ginny to steer her towards the bed. "How much time do we have before we have to leave the room?" she asked Harry anxiously, gray eyes devouring the sight of Ginny's fingers rapidly unbuttoning her blouse.

"About two hours, by my calculations. Don't worry, I've warded the corridor leading to this point...there'll be time to make a quick change, if necessary," he quipped. It was at least rumored by now that the three of them were more than just friends, but they hadn't yet decided how open to be about Draco's abilities.

"You know, we still haven't decided whose date I am, officially," Ginny reminded them as she began to explore the altered curves of Draco's body. Hmm... it might be easy to be jealous of her more slender figure, except that Ginny noted she still had the fuller breasts.

"It depends... is Mr. Malfoy or 'Miss' Malfoy attending the ball?" Harry teased.

"You're graduating too, lover... why are we the ones getting the present? Don't you want to join us?" Draco asked Harry as Ginny pushed her back against the pillows.

"Perhaps later, pet... For now, I think it will be present enough to watch," he answered, sprawling casually over the room's single chair and propping his dark head on his hand. In scant moments, his smile grew substantially wider. The room was apparently getting warm; never taking his eyes from the spectacle on the bed, he loosened his tie and undid the first two buttons on his shirt.

Yes... watching was very, very good.

Hermione and Severus did not attempt to maneuver around any technicalities. They conducted themselves perfectly, though with a distinct reduction of irritability that contributed to speculation as surely as suspicious conduct would have. The day of graduation, they dutifully received their clean bills of health from Madam Pomfrey (who was still in the dark as to what Albus and Minerva were about, and decided she'd prefer to remain that way) and passed the time in the same facsimile of cool restraint that had seen them through the rest of the school year.

Hermione even managed to feign mild disappointment that her parents couldn't stay for the entire graduation ball. Secretly, she decided the questions would be a bit less awkward if she waited until she and Severus were officially colleagues (and officially had a relationship) before making any sort of announcements.

For the present, she would be content to stand as close to him as possible in a semi-private corner, talking. It was a passable way to wait for an opportunity to steal away into a very private corner for other activities.

"I think I need my eyesight checked. Please tell me that's not what I think it is," she begged in disbelief.

"I presume you are referencing...I can't believe how difficult it is to say this...Mr. Potter with Miss Weasley on one arm, and Mr. Malfoy on the other?"

"In coordinating dress robes, no less."

"Probably Draco's idea."

"Kinky little bastard."

"I was talking about the robes. Look at their faces...it's obvious Potter runs the show, and probably instigated it."

"That isn't makeup he's wearing, is it?" Hermione wasn't certain why she was shocked at Draco apparently wearing more cosmetics than she even owned.

"As for makeup, you obviously haven't noticed, but Draco has always used Cosmetic Charms and potions to disguise the odd blemish. I shouldn't wonder if he prepares his own...Merlin knows he's adept at it."

"I never realized he actually earned high marks in your class."

"Some days, moreso than you, my dear. You only had Longbottom to rescue. He had to manage Crabbe, Goyle, and sometimes Parkinson."

Harry whispered something in Ginny's ear, then Draco's. It was apparently amusing, as they both snuggled against him, giggling.

"Now I wish there really was something wrong with my eyes."

"At least this means we don't have to worry about attracting any attention if we slow dance. I think the riot resulting from the dunderheads finally catching on to what those three are up to will prove an adequate diversion."

"Hmm. How long before we can slip out of here and exercise our restored mental health?"

"Far too long. In the meantime, may I have this dance?"

Molly Weasley wasn't beside herself, but that was only because she was desperately pretending Draco wasn't as attached to Harry's left arm as Ginny was to his right. She had evidently decided the best way to do this was to address Harry only, desperately maintaining eye contact as if she hoped that somewhere in those bemused emerald eyes there would be a charmed message board reading, 'Sorry, Mrs. Weasley, this was all a joke in very questionable taste.'

"Mum, you do realize Draco's not invisible, and we're ALL very happy," Ginny said distinctly.

Molly prattled on faster, pretending very hard not to hear her daughter. Draco caught Ginny's eye and shook his head in amusement.

"Would it help to know just how much we have in common?" Draco said in her feathery girl voice. As his curves subtly changed, Harry and Ginny finally appreciated just why so much care had gone into tailoring their coordinating robes.

Arthur grabbed a suddenly weak-kneed Molly around the waist and found her a chair, glaring and shaking his head at the unlikely trio as he hurried to fetch her something to drink. It wasn't worth trying to make her face reality. He couldn't help but think it was just as well they'd only one daughter, and that their sons weren't subject to change without notice. Women remained, in his estimation, sources of infinite bewilderment.

"Nice job unleashing that son of yours...and I use the term 'son' loosely...on my family." Arthur addressed Lucius in a steely tone, stopping him cold in his approach to the happy trio.

"Do you think I approve of this appalling situation?" Lucius seethed. "If that freakish, disrespectful spawn of mine thinks he's going to inherit after debasing himself with..."

"Before you do anything irrevocable, Lucius, there's something you need to know." Narcissa proceeded to take her husband aside and enlighten him as to where, precisely, their boy had acquired his predisposition.

Lucius not only reconsidered his decision to disinherit Draco, but started spending Friday nights at home.

"Didn't Minerva teach you how to dance?"

"Of course."

"I'm quite certain that's NOT where you put your hands, Miss Granger."

"Shall I move them, Professor?"

"Gods, no."

"Ooh, an exhibitionist... so, you like being felt up at a dance?"

"A long-unfulfilled fantasy of mine...careful, or you'll end up involved in another longstanding fantasy."

"What might that be?"

"Sneaking out of a dance to have a quick shag behind the statue of Barnabas the Barmy."

"And that's supposed to encourage me to be careful?"

"What is this, 'Snog-a-Slytherin' day?" Ron asked mildly. Harry and Ginny were pleasantly surprised at his lack of rancor.

The truth was, once Ron had realized that Harry and his little sister were doing something...he'd Obliviate himself rather than know for certain exactly what...with Malfoy, he had decided to resign himself to it. In fact, it would probably work to his advantage. Mum had never quite forgiven Bill for marrying Fleur, Charlie for turning out to be a poofter, Percy for being an unmitigated prat, or Fred and George for dropping out of school.

With Ginny on the outs and Harry responsible for it, he was now officially her favorite child.

"If you're looking for one of your own, I'd stay away from Pansy. She doesn't believe in playing well with more than one other," Draco advised with a grin.

Ron favored that with an undignified yet more or less appropriate gagging sound. "I was talking about you three attached at the hip and Hermione grabbing Snape's arse under his robes."

"What!" Draco exclaimed, straining to look over the tall redhead's shoulder. Sure enough, Granger was doing a very poor job of disguising the fact she was groping the professor rather thoroughly while they danced, and Snape was doing an equally poor job of not looking almost cross-eyed with pleasure.

"Jealous?" Harry asked Draco with a smirk. Under other circumstances, he would have been disturbed at this turn of events; considering whom he was shagging, he decided tolerance was the better part of not being a major hypocrite.

"Of which one?" Luna whispered earnestly to Ron, who just shook his head.

"No, handsome. I'm annoyed that Bulstrode wins the pool," Draco pouted appealingly. "We all wondered why Snape's been in such a good mood lately. What are you grinning about, you smug little spitfire?" he turned his remarks to Ginny.

With a triumphant gleam in her eyes, she replied, "I won our pool as to why Hermione was so chipper."

Ron, turned to Luna. "Luna, honey, I won't be able to afford a ring for you until my Auror pay kicks in... but will you marry me?"

Luna smiled happily, reflecting Ron had been easier to snag than she had hoped. "Of course! But why ask now?"

"Well, if I don't hurry to stake my claim on a catch like you, someone else will snap you up. After all, you're plainly the sanest one of the lot," he reasoned.

"Hey, Granger."

"Hi, Bulstrode." Hermione found that Millicent Bulstrode's voice no longer made her flinch, though she would never quite consider those 'dulcet tones.' She didn't even feel the need to glance around the room for Severus, in case she needed backup.

"Listen, I just wanted to congratulate you. It's quite a coup, you know. Seducing a professor is a major power play and you didn't even need to," she remarked approvingly.

In truth, she should have been highly irked as a matter of form at a Gryffindor snagging a Slytherin professor, even though no members of his own House had any particular interest in him. However, seeing as how he'd ended the lockdown of the dormitories as soon as his mood improved, Hermione's little accidental seduction made her appreciated rather than otherwise by the silver and green contingent.

"Thank you. Um, while we're on the topic, how is Goyle?"

Millicent smiled broadly and winked. "Not the brightest wand on the shelf, but still one of the longest."

Note to self: Don't give Bulstrode the opportunity to talk about her love life. Ever, Hermione thought while trying to refrain from gagging.

Millicent hadn't noticed fortunately, as she had cast an appraising eye over Snape. "He's a bit on the thin side for my tastes, but horses for courses and all that. Speaking of which, good thing they hired Weasley to teach Care of Magical Creatures this year. Otherwise it's a dead cert I'd never have gotten my license to raise Granians. My Grand-Uncle promised one of his best studs to whichever of his nieces or nephews was licensed first, and I've won out. Greg's got the land, and I've had a bit of good luck with a wager...enough to buy two decent broodmares to start with. So, what are you doing now that you're out of here?"

"Actually, I'm not out of here...I'm apprenticing with Professor McGonagall, to replace her as Transfiguration Mistress."

"You sly thing... So, the first years can thank you for the fact that Potions will only be misery instead of pure hell next year." With that, much to Hermione's relief, Millicent smirked at her and sauntered off to start publicly molesting Greg again.

Neville had steeled himself to face his grandmother with Padma. He'd written Gran just before graduation, informing her in no uncertain terms that he had met a witch from a respectable pureblood family and had every intention of marrying her. He only mentioned Padma's name once, and didn't elaborate on its origin. Even Anglo-Norman bloodlines like the Malfoy's were considered a bit foreign by Augusta's standards, and if this was going to turn into a confrontation, he preferred it to happen before a roomful of people. That way, Gran would probably refrain from doing anything for which he'd be obliged to disarm her.

"Gran, I'd like you to meet..."

"Neville, is this your young lady?" Augusta Longbottom interrupted.

"Yes, Gran," he said, tensing for an argument. "Her name is Padma Patil. You recall, her twin sister Parvati is in Gryffindor? Padma, this is my grandmother..."

"And she is a witch? A proper witch?" Augusta asked worriedly.

"Yes, from Ravenclaw, graduated with honors if you noticed," Neville explained, mystified at his grandmother's reactions.

"Welcome to the family, dear!" Augusta exclaimed happily, and gathered the two shocked sweethearts into an enthusiastic embrace.

Augusta really wouldn't have disowned her only grandson for his choice in witches, though she probably would have treated the girl quite formally for a year or two as a matter of appearances. After all, the Longbottoms were one of the most absolutely English Wizarding families, with the most exotic addition to the bloodline being a warlock from Northern Ireland about a century ago.

After seeing that Potter-Weasley-Malfoy abomination, she was just relieved that Neville fancied witches exclusively.

"Those aren't..." Severus trailed off breathily.

"Aren't what, my dear professor? You wouldn't be referring to my... feathers, would you?" she asked, fingering the elaborate clip in her hair from which several slender plumes trailed.

"Jobberknoll feathers, if I'm not mistaken."

"Absolutely... after all, they're going to be getting at the truth tonight, in the sense of provoking uncensored reactions. I'm amazed it took you this long to notice."

"Well, they aren't the largest feathers, are they? The poor things are hard-pressed to hold their own against that mane," he chided silkily, stroking the semi-tamed ringlets openly. Now was looking like a good time to toss restraint into the nearest bin.

"Be a good little Potions master, or I won't let the pretty plumes come out to play with you," she teased in return.

"Don't toy with me, you precocious bundle of cheek, else I won't give you your graduation present." He guided her fingertips carefully into the pocket of his robe, just deep enough to feel the soft, filmy contents.

Hermione shivered with delight. "Oooh... It's silk. I assume it's purple?" she asked, barely able to contain the excitement in her voice.

"Of course," he purred.

"Well, that certainly answers the question of where my 'Collected Modern Erotica: Volume II' went," she mused.

"You really should be more careful as to which books you let slip from your book bag," he agreed. "Particularly when you insist on leaving markers between the pertinent pages and underscoring all your favorite passages." Of course, he didn't believe for a minute that she'd accidentally dropped that book in his classroom, any more than she'd expected him to.

They discreetly slipped away to the dungeons for a long overdue appointment with a purple silk scarf and some feathers.

"What the hell is going on here?" Rufus Scrimgeour confronted Albus in a quiet corner of the Great Hall turned ballroom. Of course, he could have used a Sonorous Spell and addressed him while standing on the High Table, and it might have proven only a minor distraction from the various romantic combinations playing themselves out throughout the room.

"Why, Rufus, I do believe it's the Graduation Ball," Dumbledore said, beaming his best 'aren't I a charmingly barmy old fellow' smile at the Minister of Magic.

"Drop the 'Dumb'-bledore act," Scrimgeour growled. "I want to know who incited this... 'sexual revolution'?"

"It's been a good thirty years since the sexual revolution," Hooch muttered to Sinistra. "And by the looks of him, he missed out."

Aurora snorted into her drink, but otherwise refused to comment. Rolanda could really be too much at times.

"Oh, yes, I had entirely forgotten to thank you for the Ministry mandate to teach classes on Reproductive Health this term. You know, Madam Pomfrey is delighted at how much less fearful of their natural body functions the young girls are, and how seriously our adult students are taking their responsibilities to prevent unintended pregnancies and the spread of unmentionable ailments." If anything, the Headmaster's smile grew wider.

"Ministry Mandate?" Anyone noticing Scrimgeour's paleness at that moment might have found The Quibbler's vampire conspiracy articles a bit more interesting. Albus reflected that Rufus may have been savvier and more polished than Cornelius had been, but he was still in no danger of breaking the apparent mandatory intelligence cap for high level bureaucrats.

"Good, you remember it! Although I agree wholeheartedly with the revised order...excising the more detailed supplemental materials from future classes. The texts are sufficient, without all that advanced information for the professors to convey."

"If you're looking for the source of that order, I think you would do well to address the fellow who heads the Department of Education and Certification," Minerva interposed. "He signed off on the original paperwork, after all, and he's taken credit for the program."

By sometime tomorrow, a low-level bureaucratic haunt was going to be very happy.

"What about them?" he asked, with a sharp look at three very famous (or infamous) students sitting just a little too close for plain chumminess. Meanwhile, he was mentally calculating just how much heat he could deflect onto the head of the Department of Education and Certification, and thanking all and sundry otherworldly powers that the school had been closed for the year prior and thus, all parties involved were of age and fully responsible for their own actions.

"Oh, yes... well, being such diligent students in all respects, of course they did independent research," Dumbledore replied airily.

"Of course... yes, it was entirely their idea. Not even inspired by anything related to the Ministry or the school. After all, we're talking about some popular war-heroes here... hmm, under significant stress as well. Likely just blowing off steam." Scrimegour walked away muttering, trying out different statements useful for spinning the situation and no doubt devising some plot by which he could turn it to his advantage.

"Minerva," Albus said tiredly as soon as Scrimgeour was out of earshot, "you have exactly two years to train Miss Granger to replace you. I have an overdue appointment with a lovely little island in the Mediterranean where the average temperature is so warm, I need never think of socks."

Minerva was quite through being shocked, at least for the foreseeable future. "I'll try...but if it has to be three years, can I make it up to you by providing regular shipments of spiked Pepper Imps?"

"Throw in Rum Jelly Slugs and a mature, well-rounded lady with a penchant for distinguished, bearded wizards, and that will be acceptable."

"Deal on the slugs, but don't expect too much on the other half of that," Minerva retorted.

"Don't underestimate his appeal, Minerva, dear," Clara whispered as she walked by. As McGonagall looked on, Quill raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore, who took her hand and raised it to his lips.

Correction: Minerva could be shocked at least once more tonight.

"Miss Lovegood, so nice to see you this evening! Are you enjoying the ball?" Professor Quill asked genially.

"Oh yes, Professor," she replied happily. "Ron proposed to me tonight!"

"Well, congratulations are in order, my dear," Quill replied, her tone unchanging but her eyes narrowing a little. "What sort of plans have you made for your future?"

"He is training to be an Auror, and I haven't really decided yet, though I do love writing."

"You are quite a good writer, Miss Lovegood, not to mention one of my best students. Your unique manner of thinking makes you ideally suited to arriving at the sort of insights that are necessary to translate lost languages. Have you ever considered teaching?"

"Not really... but now that I think of it, I really do enjoy being around children. Once I've been teaching long enough, they'll all seem like children to me, won't they?" Luna asked brightly.

"It happens sooner than you think," Quill replied, her lips quirking in a creased grin. "If you're still interested in the idea and do well enough on your N.E.W.T.s, would you consider being my apprentice?"

"It would be an honor, Professor Quill! But I was hoping to have a fair-sized family, at least three children. Will it be hard to manage, what with teaching?"

"Life is hard to manage, my dear. You just keep your man in line, and he'll prove to be a help in that. Are you quite sure he's good husband and father material, then?"

"Certainly. I admit, he hasn't got any more tact than a Jarvey, but he has a good heart. And he's really not that hard to manage."

"Just so you know what you're getting into, from the first," Quill said gently. "Where is the lad? I'd like to congratulate him on his good judgment in this matter."

Luna pointed him out, and Professor Quill deftly navigated the crowded room until she could interrupt his Quidditch conversation with Harry.

"Mr. Weasley, a word, if you please?" She worded it as a request, but her tone made it plain refusal wasn't an option.

"Yes, Ma'am?" Who was she again? Oh, right, Quill...Ancient Runes, he managed to recall.

"I understand you plan to marry Miss Lovegood. I would like to offer my congratulations...and to let you know, Miss Lovegood is to become my apprentice at the end of her seventh year. It is my intention that she shall replace me when I retire. If you interfere with her further education, her teaching career, or in any way cause her the least unhappiness, you'll have the business end of my wand to deal with! Believe me, in my day I was able to take out better than a mere Auror. Until I'm dead, my day isn't over."

Ron managed to stutter that he hadn't any notion of interfering or causing Luna unhappiness, unnerved at how the sweet old lady in front of him had suddenly turned into something rather scarier than Snape.

Satisfied with his wide-eyed reaction, she bade the shocked Mr. Weasley good evening. Luna's judgment was probably right; she had an uncanny knack for identifying worth in unlikely places. Still, it didn't hurt to put the fear of Isis in the boy.

Despite the fact that she was unable to be involved in the lives of her descendants in anything but an oblique manner, S. Clara Quill would be damned if she'd take any chances with her great-granddaughter's happiness.

The following academic year...

"I'm amazed that Miss Weasley still meets with Mr. Potter and Mr....I use the title rather loosely...Malfoy every Hogsmeade weekend," Minerva remarked. She had made herself at home in Filius' office that quiet evening, enjoying the relative flexibility of not yet being Headmistress while she still could.

"Well, she's of age and not on school grounds; it's not as if we could forbid it, no matter how Molly would like us to!" Pomona chortled. "Rosie says the boys booked the Honeymoon Suite at the Three Broomsticks for every pertinent weekend until the end of the academic year, with a standing order for Flooed-in room service and triple Silencing Charms!"

"I mean I can't believe that the three of them made that arrangement in the first place, or that they're maintaining it," Minerva clarified. It was a good thing no one else had taken up Hooch's offer to discuss alternate lifestyles to that extent; otherwise they might well be looking at a sacked flying instructor and a REAL parental uprising, rather than Freddy Chance's manufactured one.

"If I were feeling uncharitable, I'd ask Sibyll if she'd seen that coming," Filius said, his overly innocent expression firmly in place.

"Thank goodness she can't bring them to the Valentine's Ball!"

"Has anyone seen Draco as a female, just out of curiosity?"

"Yes," Sprout said tersely. She and Rosmerta had a bit of a spat about that...seems 'Miss' Malfoy was quite dishy. Or was that 'the other future Mrs. Potter?'

All Pomona knew was, anyone who considered homosexuals 'confused' was dead inaccurate so long as Veneramorphmagi were around.

"Speaking of Balls, people are going to be talking about that Graduation Ball for years."

"I shouldn't wonder if it ends up in some future edition of 'Hogwarts: A History.'"

"Well, if it did, it would be in a substantially edited form, I imagine!"

"How is Molly handling it, incidentally?"

"She's on holiday."

"On holiday?"

"In Egypt. You know, the land of 'd' Nile."

Filius thought it only logical to point out to Minerva that Pomona couldn't apologize for that alarmingly bad pun until her head was Transfigured back to normal. Minerva, not willing to act with this degree of leniency, finally restored her Hufflepuff colleague's mouth and ears. She refused to change the rest of Sprout's head from Puffskein form until she promised to think twice about such atrocious wordplay from now on.

"Filius!" Professor Vector exclaimed at the door of Professor Flitwick's office, startling the three happy gossips within. She had opted to keep her maiden name at work, though asking after Freddy was now an acceptable conversation starter. (Of course, her response was still usually accompanied by a bit of ducking and blushing.)

"Yes, Septima, dear?" he asked, peering between Minerva and Pomona as they glanced over the rims of their drinks at their colleague. It had been some time since Septima had encountered an emergency worthy of alerting her old Head of House during her rounds.

"I'm afraid I've caught a couple in a most indelicate situation," she said gravely...then spoiled the effect by giggling uncontrollably.

"The same offenders again?" Filius queried in exaggerated dismay.

"They're simply incorrigible," she gasped out amid helpless laughter.

Minerva slugged back the rest of her Gillywater and drew herself up imposingly. "It's no laughing matter, my friends," she intoned, feigning gravity far better than Septima, though her lips twitched. "One of my Gryffindors is proving to be a hopeless scofflaw, and I simply cannot tolerate further incidents of this nature!" She stalked off, wand drawn, in the direction Professor Vector indicated.

Pomona finished her stout and plonked the glass down on the desk. "They never learn, do they?" she asked rhetorically.

"Not in my experience," Filius sighed. "Shall we watch?"

"Wouldn't miss it for all the Chomping Cabbages in China." Sprout laughed, and they hurried after Minerva.

Muffled moans and whimpers told the professors the miscreants were near. Minerva wordlessly Transfigured a handy urn into a bucket of water, to which Filius helpfully added a Cooling Charm, insuring it was nice and icy, just before she flung it into the shadowed alcove. For good measure, Pomona shouted, "Oi! Get a room, you two!"

A feminine shriek and several very masculine curses met their ears. Still defiantly clinging to each other, a dripping Professor Snape and Transfiguration Apprentice Granger emerged from behind the statue.

"Taking lessons from Peeves, Minerva?" Severus asked icily...to match the water soaking him. He pulled Hermione tightly against his chest, hiding her drenched front. He didn't care if all the persons looking on were either already spoken for or not thusly inclined; he wasn't about to share the lovely view of wet fabric clinging to his witch's delectable nipples.

"A Wizard ought to be at least sixty before reverting to teenaged behavior, Severus," Minerva countered. "Listen to Pomona and get yourselves into a respectable bed."

"It's not as if we were in the street where we might scare the Thestrals," he retorted, sending Flitwick off in a gale of merriment. That expression already had a long, gray beard when Filius was a little lad playing Gobstones on a rug in the Ravenclaw common room.

Hermione giggled, slightly abashed, as she employed the appropriate charms to dry them. "Or make them jealous," she added, giving Severus a significant look from under her eyelashes.

"On that note, good night," he said hastily, sweeping his cloak around Hermione and whisking her off down the corridor.

"What would you care to wager they'll be pawing each other all the way back to the dungeons?" Flitwick asked, shaking his head.

"It's not worth wagering on a certainty. You can't offer better than a Knut to the Galleon, with the odds!" Pomona joked.

"Some people's children," Minerva quipped, glancing over her shoulder one last time. Giggling could be heard clearly from behind a very vigorously moving cloak as the couple moved unsteadily towards what were, effectively, 'their' quarters in the dungeon.

Back in Filius' office, the three professors had one more round before turning in.

"I swear, those two have decided to embark on an early second adolescence," Filius chuckled.

"More like a belated first," Minerva said fondly. "But we simply can't excuse them altogether. For their indiscretions, I do believe they should be made to teach 'Reproductive Health' to the fifth years, next time around."

"Hear, hear! To 'Sex Ed,'" Pomona said enthusiastically, and they raised their glasses high.

FIN

Author's Note:

My deepest thanks to LariLee, who held on to this rollercoaster ride until the very end. She is an absolute jewel!

The ride is over, folks--please check around your seat for personal belongings before exiting the story, and have a great day (or night, where applicable.) Thank you all for the lovely reviews! (For those who haven't reviewed, thank you for stopping by and having a read-through! Hopefully you haven't been too traumatized by all this...)

Finally, thanks to all who have taken up the Sex Ed Challenge gauntlet! Voting starts August 26th and closes September 4th at Potter Place, so read the stories and make your choice. :-)