The Head Boy's Education
a Harry Potter parody by canoncansodoff
A/N: The inspiration for this story came from a web-based discussion on the ratings scales loosely enforced on certain fanfiction web sites.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
oo00OO00oo
Chapter 1: The Head Boy's Concerns
As the students were dismissed from the Opening Feast, Harry Potter's guts began to twist into the same kind of knots that had formed on the day that he had defeated the Dark Lord, some four weeks past. Having been made Head Boy without previous experience as a Prefect had created all kinds of controversy since it had been announced, and lost him a few friends…friends like Seventh-Year Prefects Ron Weasley and Ernie MacMillian, who had thought that they'd deserved the post. The accusations and epithets had hurt him far more than in other years, when public opinion had gone against him, as they had also targeted the two women that he arguably cared for more than any others…Headmistress Minerva McGonagall (who had made the appointment), and Head Girl Hermione Granger (upon whose recommendations the Headmistress had relied upon).
Of course there had been benefits to his posting announcement…it had caused Ron to abandon them yet again in a hissy-fit, and given Harry the opportunity to spend the last few weeks of hols at Hermione's parents' house...in a variety of chaperoned and un-chaperoned environments. And while their focus had been on trying to catch-up on their studies, and make up for time lost fighting Voldemort, there was plenty of time for them to relax, and begin to think of each other as more than best friends.
It hard not to think of each other as "just friends" at times...like when they were sharing her parent's hot tub, or rubbing sunscreen on each other on the pool deck, or taking turns doing their laundry...while Hermione seemed to be able to fold his boxer shorts without fondling them, Harry found it hard not to run his fingers through her silky unmentionables when he pulled them from the clothes dryer.
Both hard as in "difficult," and hard as in "painfully-obvious boners."
Not that Hermione ever seemed to notice, or that either had confessed that they now fancied the other.
Part of Harry's reluctance to admit his feelings for Hermione stemmed from their new appointments. The Head Boy and Head Girl had their own quarters within Hogwarts, consisting of a large common room, separate bedrooms, and lavatory whose bathtub was only slightly less ornate than the one found within the Prefect's Bath. If they were to decide to become more than best friends, and the relationship became public…that would only add more fuel to the fire over his selection as Head Boy.
It was this concern over how Hermione and McGonagall were being portrayed in the press and amongst the student body that led Harry to conclude that only way past the accusations and the name-calling, was for him to succeed as "The-Boy-Who-Made-Head Boy," just as he had as "The-Boy-Who-Won." And that success depended upon a lot of hard work on his part. The black-haired wizard had read through the Prefect's Handbook, the Head Student's Handbook, and Hogwarts Rules several times since he'd received the Head Boy badge, and tried to memorize as many of the rules as possible. The only problem with this approach was that it revealed several discrepancies and vagaries, not just in the rules themselves, but how they were applied.
The new Head Boy had brought his concerns to Hermione, who had been typically sympathetic, and said that she'd been similarly frustrated when she first made Prefect in Fifth Year. Fortunately, that year's Head Girl had taken the bushy-haired witch under her wing, and provided practical advice and illustrations while sharing hall patrols at the start of the school year. Hermione thought that she could do no less for her best-friend (and semi-secret crush), and made certain that Harry was paired with her when she prepared the patrol schedules for the first week of school.
Harry trusted Hermione far more than he trusted his own understanding of the rules and regulations, so he was thrilled that these arrangements had been made. But he was still afraid of letting Hermione down, and doing something stupid during a certain situations. And he was deathly afraid of his reaction to certain situations…Ron Weasley hadn't been shy about describing in great detail whom he'd caught in broom closets during patrols, and what those students had been doing. And if Ron hadn't been doing his typical amount of exaggeration…well, Harry was mortified that his robes would tent out on their own accord, within full-view of Hermione, and that she'd think poorly of him because of it.
The young woman whom Harry now wished would be thrilled at that kind of "tenting" rather than (as he feared) mortified, caught on to Harry's nervousness, and slipped her arm through his (a move that threatened tenting on its own accord).
"C'mon Harry…we'll make sure the Firsties make it to the Tower, and start our patrol from there."
The Head Boy nodded, and reflexively matched strides with the Head Girl as they trod a well-worn path from the Great Hall to the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Right, so our goal tonight is for you to become comfortable with moderating student behavior, and enforcing school rules and standards," Hermione stated along the way. "Our enforcement efforts are centered around two basic pillars….what students are doing, and what students can be seen or heard doing."
"There's a significant difference between those two things?" Harry asked.
Hermione nodded. "Of course, Harry…it's all an outcome of the fact that the adult legal age within the magical world is seventeen. Given the age range of Hogwarts students, this means that there are two sets of standards to enforce…those applied to adult students, and those to under-aged students."
"I see," Harry replied. He then nervously added, "So students who are legal adults can engage in certain…adult activities?"
"Exactly," Hermione replied brightly. "For example, I sure that you've noticed during your review of school rules and regulations that there are no prohibitions against adult-aged students having consensual sex?"
Harry choked on a bit of spittle, but quickly recovered his composure and nodded his head. "Yeah, I was surprised it wasn't spelled out…figured that shagging was so obviously against the rules that it didn't need to be stated as such."
"Well, you're wrong there," Hemione replied, sporting a smile that softened her negative assessment. "For example…since you're seventeen and I'm almost eighteen, you and I could shag each other's brains out in the Head Suite tonight without fear of point loss or detention."
"Eep!..erm…(cough)…(cough)…"
The unresolved sexual tension developed by Hermione's illustration hung in the air for a few moments, while Harry recovered from her seemingly innocuous example.
Or was it innocuous? Harry decided to find out.
"So, let me see if I've got this straight," he asked. "You and I could get bare-arsed naked tonight and rut like bunnies in our Suite…just so long as it was consensual and you wanted to shag my brains out?"
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Yes, Harry that's right…of course for it to be consensual you would have to want to shag my brains out as well."
"Well, that's a given," Harry muttered under his breath.
Or more precisely, almost under his breath. When Hermione's breath caught in response, Harry tried to recover by giving her arm a "friendly" squeeze and noted,
"That would be a given under your hypothetical."
"I see," Hermione replied (although her tone of voice suggested far less certainty).
"So…you mentioned what can be seen as another criterion?" Harry asked. "Does that mean that you and I making the beast with two backs in the Heads' Suite is allowable because we wouldn't be baring our bits…or burying those bits…in public?"
A barely detectible shiver ran through Hermione's body as she dwelled on the images that were dancing in her frontal lobes in response to the question. She eventually found enough composure to respond.
"That's right, Harry…underaged students are not only prohibited from having sex, but from being witnesses to sexually explicit acts. Although in the later case, the fault would be with the exhibitionists, rather than the voyeurs."
"Does that only apply to underaged students?" Harry asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Well…it makes sense that you and I couldn't legally play `Hide the Sausage' on top of the Gryffindor Table during brekkers in the Great Hall…because there'd be Ickle Firsties, and Secondsies, and Thirdsies gawking at your gorgeous body."
"Do you really think that it's gorgeous, Harry?"
The-Boy-Who-Crushed tried to push all of his feelings towards Hermione into a warm smile.
"Of course I do, Hermione…and I'd hex anyone who would tell you otherwise."
The bushy-haired Head Girl developed a blush that started at her nose and spread far down her robe-covered chest. Kicking herself for letting Harry get to her that way, she tried to fight fire with fire.
"It would also be considered out-of-bounds," she noted, "since it would allow underaged witches to wet their knickers at the sight of your cute arse…or your six-pack abs…or your huge wand…"
Harry laughed out loud at this riposte. He tipped an imaginary hat towards his best friend and asked, "Do you really think I've got a cute arse, or have a reason to believe that I've got a huge wand?"
Hermione worried her lower lip with her teeth, fearing that the banter was quickly spinning out of control. Harry took pity on her, though, and posed a related, slightly less challenging, question.
"But we're back to adult versus underaged, it seems," he posited. "Does that imply that I could bend you over your dormitory desk and shag you silly while Parvati and Lavender watched, so long as they were seventeen?"
Hermione's eyes went wide at the thought.
"Well…it does imply that, doesn't it?" she asked. "I hadn't considered that situation before."
"Oh, damn," Harry cursed. "So much for me dwelling on that pervy fantasy."
"Does that mean that I'm an actor within some of your pervy fantasies, Mr. Potter?" Hermione challenged.
"Would you hex me if I said yes?"
The Head Girl considered admitting that she would be hypocritical if she did say yes, as Harry was certainly front and center (and deep inside) her wanking fantasies. The test of her Gryffindor resolve was postponed, however, when they turned the final corner of their journey and came upon two Fourth-Years trying to guess the new password in front of the Fat Lady. Hermione gently chided her House mates for their carelessness, and then gave them the correct entry phase.
As Harry and Hermione followed the younger witch and wizard through the portal, he took note of their hand-holding, and recalled that these two had been a couple before hols. He wondered how the school rule prohibiting "explicit or inappropriate sexual contact between underaged students" was applied in the field. The way the younger witch in front of him swayed her hips and made her bum move in very pleasant ways caused him to hope that he might soon find out.
"Hem-Hem…"
Harry startled at the dreaded voice and dreaded phrase, and turned towards it, only to find his best friend doing her best imitation of Dolores Umbridge.
"Sorry," he muttered, feeling rather guilty about having been caught staring.
Hermione smiled, and pulled him to a stop at the entrance to the Common Room. Once some space had cleared between them and the couple in front of them, she leaned up and whispered into his ear.
"That's okay, Harry…she does, after all, have a mesmerizing arse."
The-Boy-Who-Gawked caught his breath, and he immediately turned to whisper back.
"Is that an objective assessment, or your personal preference?"
Hermione giggled, and turned so that she could whisper a reply.
"I thought I'd already stated my preferences for someone else's cute arse?"
The Hogwarts Head Girl squeezed the Head Boy's hand, then released it and headed off towards the common room's bulletin board to inspect a suspicious-looking announcement from Fred and George's joke shop. This left Harry alone with his thoughts, and questions, and racy ideas…racy ideas that he tried to stamp out by heading towards the fireplace where Ron and Seamus were playing a game of Wizard's Chess.
His red-headed former friend scowled at both Harry's face and his badge, but didn't make a comment. He didn't dare to, as their Irish dorm mate was presenting his most serious challenge…ever. There was, as a result, quite a large crowd watching the match, and offering running commentary, and laying odds on the outcome.
After ten more minutes of tense play, Seamus made a critical mistake which Ron immediately capitalized upon. When checkmate soon followed, the youngest male Weasley shouted out in glee, pumped his fist in the air, and began to taunt those who had bet against him. His opponent didn't take too well to this display.
"Weasley, you're a fucking arsehole, you know that?"
Ron turned towards his opponent, glared, and pointed towards the Prefect's Badge that was pinned to his own robes.
"That's five points for language, Finnegan," he stated smugly.
"Go fuck yourself!"
"And….detention with Filch!" Ron hissed.
This petty power play caused everyone in the room to explode in chatter…everyone except for the Head Girl, who crossed the room and calmly stated, "That disciplinary action is overruled…and you're out of bounds, Ron."
"What?" the Seventh-Year prefect yelled, as his cheeks tried to match his hair color.
"You heard me, Ron, and as this is your third year on patrol, you should know better…"
"But…but….he swore at me!"
"And?"
"And he used….hold on…"
Hermione patiently allowed Ron to thumb through his seldom-used "Pocket Guide for Prefects." Once he found the page he was looking for, he jabbed at it with his finger and proclaimed, "It's right there…says students can't use explicit language."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Ron, that wasn't `explicit' language, that was `coarse' language."
"What?" demanded the distraught Prefect. "He said the f-word! How can it not be considered…(he paused to look back down upon the page) explicit?"
"When it's used as an adjective, instead of a verb," Hermione stated.
"Huh?"
"Adjective versus verb, Ron…you do know the different parts of speech, right?"
A blank look of incomprehension covered the youngest male Weasley's face.
Hermione let out a deep sigh.
"When the word `fuck' is used as an adjective, and can be substituted within context with the words `extreme' or `extremely,' then it can be properly classified as `coarse language,' as it lacks any sexual connotation."
Ron's monosyllabic train of thought got hung up on the word `substituted,' and his furrowed eyebrows showed as much. Harry, who understood perfectly well Hermione's distinction, used the opportunity to take a verbal jab at his former friend.
"What Hermione is trying to say is that there is a difference between Seamus calling you a `fucking arsehole' and Seamus saying that he wants to `fuck your arsehole'."
The roars of laughter coming from Harry's classmates overshadowed what might have arguably have been his own violation of the rules. Ron's cheeks grew red with rage, and then he made the mistake of glancing towards Seamus, whose cheeks were rosy-tinged from embarrassment, rather than anger.
The red-haired wizard's eyes bulged out when he reached a certain conclusion. He violently pushed away from the table, spilling all of the chess pieces, and stormed up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.
Neville Longbottom, who had been part of the crowd, was quick to pat Harry on the back for his witty handling of the situation. He then turned towards Hermione and asked, "So if your explanation is the correct application of the rules, why did you dock points from me last term when I called Ron a `fucking wanker'?"
"Ah…that was situation specific," Hermione replied. "Language that is properly classified as `coarse' can still be out of bounds when younger students are within hearing range."
"So it's like the cinema ratings system for those Muggle moving pictures that you two took Susan and me to when we visited last month?"
Hermione smiled. "Exactly. With all of the younger students tucked away…this was an M-rated audience. You could call Ron a `fucking wanker' a hundred times within an M-rated film, but not at all if the desired rating was `T' for `teen'."
"Hey what if there was a spell that placed magical earmuffs on those tender ears?" Harry asked. "Then we could call Ron a fucking wanker night and day."
Neville snorted. "Magical earmuffs…hey thanks, Harry…you've just given me my NEWT-level Charms Project for the year."
Hermione snorted, then glanced over to the corner of the room, where Dean Thomas's hands had gone missing underneath his under-aged girlfriend's jumper. She sighed, and added, "Throw in some magical blindfolds and you'd make our job even easier."
As the Head Girl moved to break-up the snog-and-grope, Harry followed close behind, with the secret hope that he'd be asked to help adjudicate more of these couplings once they went on broom-closet patrol that evening.
Or better still, if he figured out a way to do some of his own consensual legal-age f-bomb verbing with the Head Girl herself.
-->