The Head Boy's Education by canoncansodoff

Rating: NC17
Genres: Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 30/07/2009
Last Updated: 04/08/2009
Status: In Progress

Head Girl Hermione explains to Head Boy Harry how to properly interpret and enforce school rules
that are suspiciously similar to the posting guidelines found on a certain fanfiction web site.
Crack-fic parody, centered around the distinctions between "M" and "MA" -rated
stories.




1. Chapter 1
------------



**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.

-->



2. Chapter 2
------------



**The Head Boy's Education**
a Harry Potter fanfiction parody by canoncansodoff

**A/N:**I changed the title of this story to better reflect content. My original idea was
that H/Hr were “dancing” around the rules, and bounds of propriety, but I like the emphasis on the
fact that Hermione is showing Harry the ropes. And her desires. And maybe some skin…

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 2****:Thinking Clinically**

With an hour's time before the start of their 11pm to 2am patrol, Hermione suggested that
Harry and she head towards their private quarters, and "freshen up a bit." The Head Boy
thought this to be a fine idea, since the frisky bantering that they'd been engaging in had
certainly left him more than a little sweaty.

"This is exciting, isn't it?" she asked, as they walked down the hallway that led to
their Suite.

"Well, it's not like we haven't already been given a tour of our quarters."

"Yes, but...but now it's official...you're the Head Boy, and I'm the Head Girl,
and this is...this is *our* place now."

Harry rather liked Hermione's choice of pronouns.He smiled, and asked, "So should there be
some sort of formal ribbon cutting ceremony? Or maybe I should carry you over the
threshold?"

The Head Girl turned towards her best friend and smiled coyly. "No need for anything formal
when it's just us, Harry...and as for that other part..."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I'm getting ahead of myself."

"You are, huh?"

"Erm, right...here we are," Harry pronounced, as they stopped in front of a magical
portrait of a Sixteenth-Century noblewoman."What's the password again?"

Hermione giggled. "Need I chide you for inattentiveness, like I did those Fourth Years?"
Not waiting for a response, she gave his hand a squeeze, turned towards the portrait, and stated,
*"Fruits of Victory."*

The magical portrait smiled, and gave Hermione a wink.

"Welcome home, you two," the painting said slyly, as the frame swung away from the
wall.

With the short stone-walled passage behind the painting only wide enough for one person at a time,
Harry gave an exaggerated bow, and said, "After you, m'lady."

"Why thank you, kind sir," Hermione replied brightly, as she stepped into the
entrance.

Harry was quite certain that his Suite mate was trying to make her arse just as mesmerizing as that
Fourth Year's, as she swung her hips in front of him. But he wasn't confident enough to
call her on it, so he simply stayed silent, and enjoyed the view.

"Mind if I take the first bath?" Hermione asked, as she dropped her book bag on a side
table and walked into the Common Room.

Noticing that the bushy-haired witch wasn't waiting for an answer as she began to unbutton her
school robes, Harry replied, "Erm...sure."

"Thanks," Hermione replied, as she let her robes drop to the floor and opened the door to
their shared lavatory."Let me get the water started...be right back."

Harry nodded, and noted that the tight-fitting jeans that his companion had been wearing underneath
her robes had added a capital "M" to the word "Mesmerizing. "He ogled until he
was certain that he was about to get caught out, then shrugged off his own robes and took a seat on
the comfortable sofa that sat by their fireplace.

When the Head Boy heard the sound of opened taps and flowing water a little more loudly than he
expected, he looked up and noticed that his suite mate had left the lavatory door opened. His heart
rate jumped a bit, until he remembered that Hermione had promised to return. His heart rate jumped
a bit more when she did pop back into the room with her school tie undone and the buttons of her
white blouse unbuttoned. Shirt tails pulled from her jeans left her shirt front opened, revealing a
mid-drift baring tight-fitting pink camisole underneath.

Harry bit his lip, and tried to remain calm, for fear that an adverse reaction might make Hermione
feel uncomfortable, and lessen the chances that this level of undress wouldn't be seen in the
future. He didn't realize that at that very same time Hermione was herself fighting to remain
calm, in the hope that her attire (or lack thereof) might be accepted as the norm...and that Harry
might adopt a similar level of unconcern when he dressed...or undressed.

"So...I've got some homework for you while I'm in the bath," Hermione tried to
state with confidence.

"Homework?Already?" Harry teased.

"Well, you do want to do well on patrol, tonight, right?"

"Of course...so what do you have in mind?"

Hermione's eyes twinkled as she walked over to the trunk that the House Elves had transferred
for her from the Express and removed a thick envelope. As she walked back towards the sofa, she
said, "One of the more important things we need to do while on patrol is to always maintain a
professional demeanor...we mustn't become flustered, or embarrassed, or stammer like Ickle
Firsties when presented with certain situations."

Harry nodded. The fear of growing a stiffie when they caught couples within broom closets had been
a big issue for him.

"We also have to fill out a report after every instance in which we dock points, or issue
detentions," Hermione continued. "These reports have to be very meticulous, and specific
when describing the circumstances of any given incident."

"Erm...how specific is specific if we're docking points for....broom closet
activity?"

"Verrry specific," Hermione replied, as she plopped down next to Harry. "The
Headmistress reviews each of these reports, and needs that kind of specificity whenever a student,
or their parents, appeals any disciplinary action that is taken."

Harry's eyebrows rose towards his hairline."So we're going to be writing down what
couples are doing...and the Headmistress and maybe their parents are going to read what we
write?"

Hermione nodded, and patted her best friend's knee in sympathy.

"It's not so bad, once you get the hang of it...and that's what the homework is
for," she stated, as she opened the envelope and emptied two magazines and a parchment scroll
onto the short table that sat in front of the sofa. Harry's face turned pale when he spotted
the covers of these magazines.

"Erm...Hermione...pornography?"

The Head Girl smiled, and patted his knee again...although this time it seemed that the point of
contact was further up the thigh.

"Think of them as training materials, Harry," she stated. "The parchment scroll
contains anatomical diagrams that are labeled with the proper clinical terms for the different body
parts. Now, I've taken the liberty of bookmarking certain pages within these magazines, and
while I'm in the bath, what I'd like you to do is look at these pictures, and write down
what you see using the proper terms."

"You...you...you want me to look at porn while you take a bath?" Harry stammered.

"Training materials, Harry....training materials," Hermione said with a confident smile
that masqueraded a whole lot of nervousness inside. "It's something that every new prefect
goes through...except that...well, it's usually a male upperclassman that works with the new
male prefects, and females with females...if you are uncomfortable about doing this exercise with
me, I guess I could get Ernie...or....Ron....to review your work?"

Harry took in a deep breath, then expelled it. "No, no...if you don't mind, then....well,
there's nobody I trust more than you."

Hermione flashed a brilliant smile, and pulled Harry into one of her trademarked hugs...a hug that
smashed her thinly covered chest against his arm.

"Right then...I'll leave the door open if you have any questions."

"You...you're going to take a bath with the door open?"

The Head Girl nodded, and gave a weak smile that betrayed a certain amount of insecurity and
nervousness.

"There's nobody that I trust more than you, Harry... is there a reason why I couldn't
trust you with the door opened?"

Harry's little head wanted to scream out "Yes!" But his bigger head decided that it
would be better to lie.

"Erm, of course there isn't."

Hermione cocked her head and stared at Harry for a moment, with an expression that could be
interpreted to reflect either a tinge of incredulity or a tinge of disappointment. She then nodded,
gave his leg another squeeze, and stood up.

"Right then, won't be long...don't be shy with your questions."

"Yes, Professor," Harry teased.

After ducking underneath the light-hearted swipe of Hermione's hand, the black-haired wizard
summoned some blank parchment and a Muggle ballpoint pen from a nearby desk, and laid them
alongside the rolled-up scroll and muggle skin magazines...which, he noted, had recent publishing
dates posted above their titillating cover photos. Harry looked up towards the lavatory door
through witch Hermione had disappeared, weighing options. Deciding that he wanted to hear Hermione
enter the water before he flipped open the skin mags (giving him at least a few seconds warning
before she caught him drooling over something), he instead opened up the parchment scroll. And
dropped his jaw, realizing that what was contained within wasn't any less erotic.

Just the opposite, in fact.

Contained within the parchment were full-frontal, anatomically correct pen-and-ink drawings of a
nude male and nude female, standing side by side. Hand-drawn lines linked certain body parts to
labels and the corresponding clinical terms.

Now one might think that pen-and-ink drawing of nude bodies would be less arousing to a teen-aged
male than full-color photographs. But these weren't just generic human bodies, labeled with
generic script. These were *their* bodies, labeled in *Hermione's* handwriting,
standing underneath *Hermione's* handwritten instructions.

She had made a nominal effort to disguise their forms, of course. The nude male didn't wear
glasses, and had short hair that laid flat and was parted to one side. The nude female figure
*did* wear glasses, and had her long straight hair braided into a ponytail that draped over
her shoulder. But there was no doubt who they were supposed to be...the two figures had exactly the
same proportional height has they did, and the same body types. The female's breasts were the
right size (based on what he'd seen constrained within Hermione's skimpy bikini back at her
parents' house), and her patch of pubic hair was just as thick and curly as he imagined
Hermione's would be. The male's unaroused penis was the right length...and was
uncircumcised...and curved slightly to the left...just like his.

Harry's eyes drifted back towards the female figure's breasts, and he compared the
circumfrance of the aureoles, and the thickness of the nipple tips to what he'd sort-of seen
underneath Hermione's wet swim costume. That got him thinking back towards that time spent in
the Grangers' backyard, and by the pool, and in the hot tub, and he zoned out for a few
moments.

"Harry?"

*"Harry?"*

"Wha..erm...what Hermione?"

"Oh, didn't know if you were still there...didn't answer me for a moment."

"Erm, sorry...I was just thinking....do you need some soap, or something?"

Pregnant pause.

"Why do you ask, Harry...do you want to wash my back?"

"Do you want me to wash your back?"

Pregnant pause.

"Maybe another time, Harry...don't have that much time before patrol."

"Oh, right."

Left unsaid was the notion that there might come a time when Hermione would want to share the bath
with him.

"So do you have any questions about your homework assignment?"

"Erm, no thanks...just working through the instructions..."

"Okay...well, if you do..."

"Then I'll know just who to ask."

"Good."

The sound of splashing water led Harry to wonder whether Hemione had just gotten into the tub. And
whether, if she had just gotten into the tub, she might have been peeking at him from the doorway.
He tried to shake these idle thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Following the instructions,
Harry pulled out his wand and touched a random label.

Or not so random, as the one picked read *"Vagina."*

The black ink flashed red, and arrow heads began to flow down the connecting line towards the
corresponding bits. When the wand tip that was dragged down this line reached its endpoint, the
pubic hair flashed white, and the magical drawing animated....with the female figure drawing back
and wiggling its hips, as if Harry had just poked her in the crotch.

Which he had, when you think about it.

Harry snorted, and moved on to the next label. It took a few moments to work through the different
bits...would have taken less if he hadn't paused after each one to watch the various animated
effects. When he got to the last one, and prodded his avatar's scrotum, the labels faded out,
the inked figures turned to face each other, and the figure "2" appeared on the top left
corner of the page, with arrows on either side. A *Lumos* spell lit over "real"
Harry's head,as he realized that Hermione had created a page browsing system. Touching the left
arrow brought the parchment back to the original, full-frontal view of the figures, while touching
the right-side arrow....did nothing except provoke a note indicating that he needed to complete his
review of the current page before being allowed to look ahead.

The Head Boy rolled his eyes, but played along and touched a label marked *"Flaccid
Penis."* Once he followed the guideline and touched the male drawing's member, the bits
flashed, and the female figure reached out and took hold of the male's crotch.

"Holy Shit!" Harry exclaimed, as a new label appeared above the female figure's hand
that read, *"Manual Stimulation of the Male's Genitalia."*

"Something wrong?" the real Hermione called out.

"Erm no...just caught off guard by the magical animation," Harry called back.
"Didn't know that you were such a talented artist."

"What's that Harry? Think I got some water in my ear."

"Oh, erm...never mind," the Head Boy replied, as he tried to regain both focus and
composure. He completed the link between label and hand-drawn hand-job, and the point of contact
flashed,Pen-and-ink!Hermione then pulled her hand back from a *"Fully erect penis,"*
(which was labeled as such). And once Harry completed *that* guideline traverse,the female
figure dropped to her knees, and the label *"Oral Stimulation of the Male's Genitalia
aka Fellatio"* appeared.

Harry made sure that he swore with a whisper as he watched the female inked-figure deep-throat his
avatar. His real-life, flesh and blood *"Fully erect penis"* strained painfully
against his trousers, and though he really wanted to release it, he didn't dare to. So he
settled for a manual readjustment to a less-constraining position as the label
*"Ejaculation"* appeared at the appropriate moment.

A prompt to "turn the page" was eagerly followed, and the figures traded places, so that
the various steps from *"Manual stimulation of the Female's Nipples"* through
*"Oral stimulation of the Female's Clitoris aka Cunnilingus"* were reached. When
Harry activated that last phrase, it's label extended out, and the addendum *"Completed
to orgasm"* appeared. The female figure didn't wait for Harry's wand tip to hit the
mark at that point...she dropped her head back, clenched the male figure's head between her
thighs, and shook violently with an open-mouthed roar that would have been ear-piercing, had the
scene included an audio track.

A chime sounded, warning the Head Boy and Girl that their patrol was to start in a half-hour's
time.

"How's it going, Harry?" a voice called out from the lav.

"Erm, fine, thanks," he called back.

"Well, I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay."

With the warning firmly in hand, Harry rushed through the next several labeled images...past the
*"Mutual Masturbation,"* and *"Penetrative Vaginal Intercourse,"* and
*"Anal Intercourse to Completion."* Though he desperately wanted to dwell on these
animated scenes, he also didn't want to disappoint the one whom he was certain was the real
life model for the sexually adventuresome (and incredibly limber) ink-drawn figure.

The black-haired wizard was just reaching for the skin mags when Hermione appeared in the doorway,
dressed in a very short, very thin, and very wet silk dressing gown.

"So, how far did we get?"

"What?"

"How far did you get in your homework?"

"Oh, thought you said...erm, never mind," Harry muttered, as Hermione crossed the room
and sat down next to Harry.

He grimaced as the act of sitting down caused the hem of her robes to fall slightly apart, and
reveal a lot of inner thigh. He grimaced not just from the strain of his erection against his
trousers, but from the embarassment of sporting such an obvious hard-on in front of Hermione.

"Right, well...spent some time making sure I memorized all of the different terms," he
tried to explain.

"But didn't get to look at the color photographs, or write down your
observations?"

"Not as such."

"Oh, so....maybe I'll have to examine you orally."

"What?" Harry blurted out.

"Test you with questions and answers, silly," Hermione teased."What do you think I
meant?"

"Erm,that was it, sorry...just a bit nervous...want to get things right with you...I mean with
my duties..."

Hermione smiled, and leaned over to plant a light kiss on his cheek.

"Of course you do," she stated. "Right, maybe we have time for one or two
examples...I'm sure you'll be able to pick things up as we go along."

Harry nodded as Hermione leaned over to pick up the August issue of "Beaver Hunt."

If he hadn't been straining his peripheral vision to peak down the loosely-tied robe, he would
have realized that she was bringing the magazine back towards his crotch. As it was, he didn't
know she intended to place the magazine in his lap until he felt the back of her hand come to rest
against his erection.

"Eep!"

"Is this okay?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Erm, yeah...perfectly fine."

"Right then, let's find a good one...."

Harry watched in disbelief as Hermione began to turn pages and inspect individual images.

"Here we go, Harry....let's say you were on patrol, and opened a broom closet door, and
found this young lady in this position.How would you describe it in your report?"

The Head Boy looked down at the page, and gulped.

"Erm....umm...."

"And how would you spell 'erm'?" Hermione teased.

"Sorry...okay, so the female is naked and leaning against a wall with her legs spread.
She's holding a purple...purple dildo in her left hand, and has inserted it into her vaginal
cavity. The index finger of her other hand is......"

"C'mon Harry...I know you can do it."

"Right, she's got her finger stuck up her bum."

"Yes, and no," Hermione said with a smile. "The proper description would be
*'left index finger inserted past the first knuckle into her anal
cavity'*."

"Oh, yeah...of course."

"How about this one, then?" she asked, flipping towards a different set of
photographs.

Harry stared at the lesbian scene and gulped.

"Didn't see this in your ink drawings," he stammered.

"No, but the same terms can be used," the Head Girl replied. "Just describe them as
'Female 1' and 'Female 2'."

"Do you really think that I'll be writing something like this up for the
Headmistress's review?"

"I'm quite certain of it," Hermione replied with a grin. "Don't want you to
get excited at the idea, but we're certain to encounter at least one pair of cauldron lickers
tonight."

"Cauldron lickers?" Harry squeeked."Is...is that a clinical description?"

Hermione snorted. "No...just what we called Ka....called *them*...in the Girl's
dormitory."

"Ka....Katie Bell?"

"Now I didn't say that, did I?" Hermione replied, waggling her eyebrows.

"Oh, Merlin help me!" Harry muttered.

"Merlin's not going to be able to help you wash up," the Head Girl decided."Go
on...get going..."

"Yes, dear," Harry said sarcastically, as he turned slightly and stood (so as not to wave
his distended trouser front in front of Hermione's face).

"And be quick about it...don't do anything that I wouldn't do in there," Hermione
added.

Harry snorted.

"Right."

The Head Boy disappeared into the lavatory, in desperate need of release...which came in almost no
time at all. He might have felt a bit less guilty about dropping his pants and rubbing a quick one
off behind the closed door had he known that he had, in fact, done something that Hermione would
do. Something that she was, in fact, doing at that very moment…as she focused on an animated scene
in which her naked avatar was bouncing reverse-cowgirl on top of Harry's erection.

-->



3. Chapter 3
------------



**The Head Boy's Education**
a Harry Potter fanfiction parody by canoncansodoff

**A/N:** This hastily-written, off-the-cuff crack-fic is intended to be a harmless piece of
smutty humor, and readers will do well to treat it as they do cotton candy (or candy floss, as they
call it over the pond). You'll only hurt yourself if you insist on thinking about this story
and its canon non-compliance, so don't.

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 3:** **A Teachable Moment**

Head Boy Harry Potter opted to use the shower rather than bath, so that he could wash off (as
quickly as possible) bodily fluids that Hermione's “training materials” had classified as
*“Male Semen Ejaculated During Solo Masturbation.”* While doing so, his eyes drifted towards
the bath and the undrained bath water that Hermione had used…bath water that she had just soaked
naked in…bath water used to soap up her breasts, and scrub her fanny in…all while the door had been
opened and he had been sitting in the adjacent room.

The mental recreation kept Harry's excitement levels up, and kept his *“Semi-erect
Penis,”* from returning to baseline conditions. The noticeable bump in his profile formed as he
wrapped a towel around his waist wasn't any more prominent than what he'd been sporting the
past half hour…nothing more than what Hermione had rested her hand on while she held the “training
materials” open on his lap...but it was still a well-defined erection.

On any other given day, he would have hidden in the lav until he calmed down, but they would be
patrolling soon, and he needed to change, and…and Hermione and he were dancing around each other in
an erotic game for which his towel would be an entirely appropriate uniform. So when a thought
popped into his head that he could call for Dobby to bring him his clothes, he decided that Dobby
really didn't need to be bothered, and ignored it…

Just like he ignored every other idle thought in his head when he poked his head out into the
common room, and focused his all on what he spied on the other side.

Hermione was sitting on the sofa, holding one of the porn magazines open in one hand, while her
other hand teased a nipple through the thin fabric of her pink camisole. The regulation knee length
school skirt that the Head Girl had been wearing before her bath was swapped out for a black
leather mini-skirt, and her sensible penny-loafers replaced by knee-high dragonskin boots. The
heels of those boots were propped up against the edge of the coffee table, about eighteen inches
apart. This was more than enough distance for Harry to look up Hermione's skirt and gaze upon
the gusset of white lace knickers that barely covered her fanny.

The Head Boy couldn't help but stare for a few seconds at his Suite mate, who was taking
shallow breaths, and breathing out through pursed lips. Hermione seemed to be so focused on the
opened page before her, and so diligent in twisting the nipple, that she didn't realize that
Harry had entered the room.

Or so he assumed…not that his brain was capable of making logical assumptions at that
moment.

When the bushy-haired witch interrupted her grope long enough to furtively turn the page, her
eyes drifted above the magazine and locked on to Harry's. Those eyes went wide, her knees
slammed together, and her hands went to her sides, with the magazine slammed shut and dropped onto
the seat cushion next to her.

“Erm…done with the wash-up?” she squeeked.

“Ah..yeah. Sorry that I interrupted.”

Hermione's eyes narrowed, and shifted from a “caught in the headlights” look to something
much more confident… and amused…and almost defiant.

With an amazing amount of confidence (given the situation), the Head Girl replied, “No problem,”
and let her attention point drift southwards, towards an erection that was threatening to pop out
between the ends of Harry's towel.

The Head Boy followed Hermione's gaze, and has halfway to covering himself with a hand,
before he decided the point to be moot.

“So, Hermione…reading a…stimulating…article?” he teased.

The brown-haired witch placed her hands on each knee and coyly smiled.

“As far as you know,” she replied, adding, “Actually, I was creating a teachable moment for
you.”

“A what?”

“Teachable moment, Harry…that was what you were just doing, right?

“Erm…”

“Instead of playing the Peeping Tom and gawking at me while…while I was being intimate with
myself… you were dispassionately assessing the situation to determine whether I was violating
school rules?”

“Erm, yeah…that's exactly what I was doing.”

“So?”

“So…what?”

“If you were on patrol and found me just like I was in an unused classroom…would you have
grounds to dock points or issue a detention?”

“Certainly not if I were in charge of the rule writing,” Harry replied.

“How about under the rules that you're charged with enforcing?”

“Erm…well, hate to think so, but…don't really think…”

“Here, let me help by recreating the scene,” Hermione said with a wink.

Harry watched with dumbfounded amazement as his Suite mate picked the magazine back up, reached
a hand up to her breast, and slowly…oh so slowly…spread her knees apart.

“So this is part of my training?” he stammered.

Hermione replied with a chuckle.

“Yes, Harry…it is my hope to have you up to speed and fully…trained…as quickly as possible.”

“Right, well…good.”

“So?”

“So...what?”

“Am I in violation of school rules at this moment?”

“Erm, hate to say it, but…I can't see how you wouldn't be out of bounds.”

“On what basis?”

“What?”

“What rules am I violating, Harry?”

The Head Boy snorted, and nervously reached up to rub the back of his neck and looked down at
the floor…not because he didn't enjoy the view, or was embarrassed by it, but because it would
have been bloody impossible to try to remember school code while he was looking up Hermione's
skirt.

“Right, so…you are seventeen years old, so I guess it's not against the rules for you have a
porn magazine.”

“And what about where I'm reading it?”

Harry's eyes darted towards hers and he smiled.

“Reading that magazine, Hermione? Is that what you're doing?”

“As far as you can tell from there, right?”

“Okay, I guess, so…I can see the cover, and it's very suggestive, but doesn't show naked
bits, so…if there were Firsties in the room that'd be bad…but we're in our Suite, and
under-aged students can't be here without our permission.”

“Excellent, point, Harry…so the possession isn't a problem. What else, then?”

“Well…I guess you are engaging in an explicit sexual activity, and that would be against the
rules.”

“What type of explicit sexual activity?”

“What? I mean…isn't it obvious?”

“Spell it out for me, Harry?” Hermione cooed, as her fingers moved out to cover the breast whose
nipple she'd been tweeking.

“Well, you are…erm…*'Manually stimulating your breast and nipple'*.”

“Is that what you think I'm doing?”

“What else could it be?”

Hermione grinned. “Maybe I've just got an itch that needs scratching.”

“*You and me both,”* Harry thought to himself. His cheeks reddened a bit and he protested,
“But if were just an itch, you wouldn't be sexually aroused!”

“I see,” Hermione replied, adopting a professorial tone. “And upon what basis have you
determined that I am sexually excited?”

“Erm…well…yeah…not as obvious as when a bloke is turned on…”

“A bloke like yourself, perhaps?” Hermione teased.

“Perhaps…but even so…your…your nipples are hard, and poking through the fabric of your
shirt.”

“Maybe it's just cold in the room.”

“Erm, no…I'm definitely not cold right now.”

“Still circumstantial, Harry…what else?”

“Well, the way that you're dressed…”

“Has nothing to do with whether I'm trying to get myself off or not.”

“Erm, right…so…”

“Any other evidence, Mr. Head Boy?”

Harry looked down at the floor and mumbled, “Yourknickersarewet.”

“What's that, Harry?”

“I said….I said that you're knickers are soaking wet!” he blurted out.

Hermione pursed her lips as she slowly dragged her hand down her body and reached up under her
skirt. Harry's eyes couldn't help but follow as fingers dragged up her inner thigh, and
came to rest upon her cloth covered mound.

“So they are,” she pronounced. “But is that definitive proof that I'm incredibly horny and
close to another orgasm?”

“Another…another orgasm?”

Hermione snorted.

“Answer the question, Head Boy,” she ordered, with fingers still resting upon damp cotton.

“Well…I suppose it's possible that you…that you spilled some water on them, or that you…you
tinkled.”

“Tinkled, Harry?” asked a bemused Head Girl. “Didn't make it to the water sports page in my
primer, huh?”

“Fine, you could have urinated,” Harry replied sharply.

“Are my knickers stained yellow, Harry?”

“Erm…”

“Well go on, get a good look…”

“Ahh…no.”

"No they aren't stained yellow, or no you don't want to look?"

"The first one."

“So that rules out urine, don't you think?”

“I guess.”

“But it doesn't rule out spilt water, so you're out of luck, I'm afraid.”

“Oh, come on, Hermione…you're sitting there with wet knickers, pinching your nipple while
you perv on a skin mag, and you're trying to tell me that you aren't hot and horny?”

“No, I'm not.”

“You're not hot and horny, or you're not saying that you're hot and horny.”

“I'm saying that you have no basis for writing me up for performing an explicit sexual
act.”

“But…but now you've got your hand up your skirt, and letting me watch you diddle yourself
through your pants!”

“Is that a complaint, Harry?”

“Erm, no…of course not…just don't understand how…”

“Harry, right now I'm not exposing any bits, and I could well be itching a scratch down
there.”

“So…so you're telling me that I could reach down right now, and start stroking my
*'Fully erect penis'* in front of you…and that wouldn't be against school rules,
as long as my bits are covered with a towel?”

Hermione chuckled, and smiled with eyes that twinkled with more intensity than Dumbledore had
ever managed to generate.

“Don't let me stop you, Harry.”

“Don't let me…so what's the difference between scratching your bits and rubbing one
off?”

“Ejacuate.”

“That hardly seems fair...girls get a pass based on that standard.”

“Not if they are squirters.”

“What?”

“Squirters, Harry.”

“You mean…girls…or women…who squirt out when the come just like guys?”

“Well not every woman, and it's not quite like male ejaculation, but…”

Harry sighed deeply…he'd had enough of the flirty banter, and wanted to find out one way or
the other where this was heading. So he stepped forward, then stepped over and sat down on the
table in between Hermione's spread legs. He then leaned forward, so that his lips were just a
few inches away from hers, and asked, “You do know that you're killing me, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can't believe that you and I are here, talking about these things, and showing
our…things…”

“Would you rather have this kind of discussion with somebody else? Ginny perhaps?”

“No! Of course not!” Harry said in exasperation. “It's just…you've never…we've
never…you're my closest friend, and…”

“And nothing more?”

“Well…it's just…”

“Harry, you're going to have to get used to these kinds of situations.”

“It'd be different if it were just some random fangirl fingering her damp knickers in front
of me…”

“Why, Harry?”

“Because she wouldn't be you!”

Hermione chuckled, leaned forward and pursed her lips. A moment of panic struck Harry…a moment
that passed when those lips landed on the bridge of his nose, rather than on his lips.


“I really am afraid that you're going to have to get used to this situation.”

“Used to sitting in between your legs while you rub one off?”

“No…I mean…maybe…but…”

Flustered!Hermione took a deep breath and tried to regain control of the banter.

“Harry, no student is above the law, and it's almost a guarantee that you're going to
come across good friends in compromising positions…whether it's Neville titty-fucking Susan
Bones, or Parvati sucking off Terry Boot…”

“What?”

“Just hypotheticals, of course…”

“Erm, right…hypotheticals.”

“So you're going to have to practice acting professionally in these situations.”

“I'm sorry, Hermione…I don't think I can act professionally when you're flashing me
your…and fingering your…”

Hermione grinned and reached for the charmed parchment with her off-hand.

“Need to look up the appropriate terms, Harry?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do…can't say that I'd be any cooler or professional if you were to reach inside
that towel right now and begin stroking your wand.”

“Wand, Hermione?”

“Erm…*'Fully Erect Penis'*.”

And how do you know that my penis is fully erect at present time?”

“Erm…guess you're right…maybe you should scratch an itch and see if it grows any
larger.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“Oh, Merlin no…can't imagine how that's going to fit…”

“What?”

“Erm…well, would you look at the time! You better get dressed, Harry.”

The Head Boy shook his head, and gave the Head Girl the most serious-looking face he could
muster, all things considered.

“Not until I know where all of this…where all of this is going!” he declared.

Hermione eyes lit up at that question. She leaned forward once more, but aimed lower, and caught
Harry's lips is a tender kiss through which she conveyed all of her feelings of love for
him.

And then she reached underneath his towel, took hold of Harry's *`Fully Erect
Penis,*' and caught it in a squeeze that conveyed all of her lust-filled feelings for
him.

“Well I, for one, know exactly where this is going tonight,” she declared.

Harry's eyes went wide at both the intimate contact, and Hermione's statement.

“You…you do?”

“But not until after rounds are over.”

Harry's eyes rolled towards the back of his head in frustration.

“Gah…can't we just skip patrol?”

“Certainly not!” Hermione replied, punctuating her response with a squeeze. She then added,
“Just think of what we'll see on patrol as foreplay.”

“Foreplay?” Harry asked. “It's going to be afterplay if you don't stop `*Manually
stimulating my fully erect penis.!”*

“Is that a complaint?”

“Erm, no…course not…”

“Good!” replied Hermione. She reluctantly let go of Harry's wand, and slipped her hand out
from under his towel. Two hands then took hold of Harry's bare arms, and pulled him up to his
feet.

“Get going!” she chided, turning him around by his shoulders and giving his bum a playful slap.
“I laid out some clothes for you on your bed.”

“Dressing me already, sweetheart?”

“Would you rather I be undressing you?”

“Oh, sweet Merlin, yes!”

An incredibly bold Head Girl responding to this declaration by reaching for the knot in
Harry's towel and pulling it loose.

“There…wish granted,” she announced, as she let the towel drop to the floor.

The move shocked Harry…even after they more or less declared their feelings for each other, and
she had fondled him under his towel. But he was damned if he was going to let Hermione get the
upper hand, so he looked over his shoulder, winked, and said, “Thanks, sweetheart,” before walking
off bare-arsed towards his bedroom.

He didn't bother closing the door behind him…and she didn't bother to hide her interest
as she followed behind, and watched from the doorway as Harry tried to stuff his *“Fully Erect
Penis,”* into the tight-fitting jeans that she had picked out for him.

And Harry…Harry didn't bother to shield her view.

Another chime sounded, announcing the top of the hour.

Harry swore, not having had time to put on his shirt.

“Don't bother,” Hermione told him. “Need to have our robes and badges on over top
anyway.”

The Head Boy turned and grinned. “So you're telling me that you don't need to be wearing
a shirt either?”

Hermione smiled as she turned away from him and slipped her robes on over her camisole.

“No, I'm not,” she replied, turning back in time to spy Harry fastening his robes.

“Well that doesn't seem very fair,” Harry pouted.

With a wicked grin, Hermione reached out for Harry's hand. “Why don't you grab your
Marauder's Map and let me make it up to you then.”

“How will that make things fair?”

“So you're telling me that you don't want me to cherry-pick broom closets and bust all
of the prettier witches?”

“No, I'm telling you that I'd rather imagine the prettiest witch in Hogwarts walking on
patrol with me without a shirt on.”

Hermione blushed, summoned some courage, and said, “Turn around, Harry.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to?”

That was more than good enough of a reason for the Head Boy. His compliance was rewarded just a
few minutes later when a moist pair of knickers were draped over his shoulder.

“Close enough, Harry?” Hermione asked.

The Head Boy closed his eyes, sighed, and flipped Hermione's pants onto the top of his
duvet. He then turned, pulled Hermione into a tight hug, and nibbled on her ear.

“Ready to show me the ropes, Head Girl?”

Hermione giggled. “Why Harry, I didn't know that you were into that sort of thing.” She then
took hold of his hand, and led him out into the hallway to start their patrol.



-->



4. Chapter 4
------------



**The Head Boy's Education**
a Harry Potter fanfiction parody by canoncansodoff

**A/N:** Thanks to Nick Jinks for his help with the math.

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter** **4****:** **Mapping the Odds**

Head Girl Hermione Granger had a satisfied look on her face as she used the Marauder's map
to guide their first few minutes of patrolling.

“This is going to make monitoring so much easier for us!” she gushed.

“You mean that it was hard to catch students with their pants down without the map?”

“Actually, Harry, without this map the odds of a couple getting caught with either pants down or
robes gathered up are rather remote.”

Harry snorted. “Rather remote, Hermione? Are you telling me that you haven't actually
calculated those odds?”

The Head Girl blushed. “You know me too well, I think…the odds are approximately 36:1 against
getting caught.”

“Thirty-six to one?” Harry asked. “What's that…three percent?”

Hermione shrugged. “Two point seven eight percent, actually, but…yeah, you're right.”

“So how did you arrive at that answer?”

Hermione smiled. “So it took a math problem involving shagging and broom closets to get you
interested in arithmancy? Who would have thought?”

“Hush, you!”

The Head Girl giggled.

The Head Boy noted this uncharacteristic response, but said nothing of it.

“Right, so…as you may or may not know, Harry, there are exactly one-hundred and six broom
closets in the castle, and fifty-seven classrooms, and seventeen nooks or crannies, or hidden
passageways large enough for a couple to hook up in.”

Harry frowned. “Only 180 total?”

Hermione nodded. “There's a few more nooks if you assume that the couple remain vertical
during their…coupling…but let's stick with 180 to make the math easier, okay?”

“Erm..sure.”

“So...assume that these lover's nests are equally distributed within the castle, and that it
takes, on average, two minutes for a patrolling pair of prefects to inspect any single spot. If the
shifts are two hours long, and only one pair is on patrol at any given time, then that one pair can
inspect a total of…”

“Sixty spots per shift,” interrupted Harry. “And if there are 180 total spots, that makes the
odds of a couple getting caught, what…one in three? That's rather high odds, in my opinion”

Hermione shook her head.

“What's wrong with my math, then?” Harry asked.

“Your math is fine, Harry,” she offered with a smile. “It's your underlying assumptions that
need refinement.”

“How…how so?”

“The odds are one in three only if the couple stays within a specific spot over the entire
two-hour shift…and that's not very realistic.”

“Why? Because couples like to move around when they make out?”

“No, because teen-aged males are incapable of lasting through two full hours of sexual
activity.”

“What? You mean…so that's it?…you think that us boys are quick to come?”

“It's not what I think, Harry…it's what the research demonstrates.”

“Research?” the Head Boy asked. “And who took it upon themselves to do that kind of
research?”

“Actually, there have been several longitudinal studies conducted over the years.”

“Really? This is something that people actually study?”

Hermione shrugged and smiled. “Blame it on the Ravenclaw witches…some of them get off on this
kind of research more than they like getting off on…well, normal methods.”

Harry shook his head. “So what, based on years of research, is the average time spent by a
couple within a broom closet?”

“Nine point eight minutes.”

“Nine point….less than ten minutes?” Harry asked in amazement. “That seems to be a rather
cutting indictment on the inability of Hogwarts wizards to control their willies.”

Hermione snorted. “So how long did it take you to lose control of your…willie…when you were in
the lav tonight?”

Harry's head whipped around at that question.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” he said with an eye waggle.

“No, actually, that's something that I'd like to see firsthand,” Hermione snarked,
before pursing her lips and blowing him a kiss.

Harry chuckled. “All in the name of scientific research, I imagine?”

“If labeling it as such is the price of admission, then…”

A hearty laugh escaped from the Head Boy's mouth.

“Yeah, there's an idea…charge admission to watch The-Boy-Who-Won, become
“The-Boy-Who-Wanked.”

“We'd need to rent out a stadium if we did,” Hermione teased.

“Yeah, right.”

“Yes, I think I am, actually.”

“Well then…I don't think we'd sell any fewer tickets if you were the star
attraction.”

“Oh, don't be so silly, Harry.”

“No…I'm serious.”

“Well…there's no chance of me giving that kind of performance any time soon.”

“What if it was a one-seat theater, and I had the only admission ticket?”

“Hmmm…you really would get off on watching me masturbate, wouldn't you Harry?”

“Wasn't it obvious back in the Head's Suite?”

“You mean that…you were spying on me, Harry?”

“No…I wasn't spying…I was right there, sitting in between your legs…so was there some other
time you were masturbating in the Heads' Suite?”

“Not as far as you know …and I'll have you know that I wasn't masturbating in front of
you…I was *teaching*.”

“Ah…I see…so, what do I have to do to arrange for more of those kinds of lessons, Hermione?”

The Head Girl replied with a squeeze of Harry's hand, and a wicked smile.

“Oh, more lessons might be doable…so long as you were willing to do a bit of teaching
yourself.”

Harry snorted. And twitched. And readjusted his tight-fitting trousers.

“Deal,” he replied. “So when can we start these lessons?”

Hermione cast a Tempus spell.

“I might have a free instructional period one-hundred and six minutes for now.”

“What a coincidence,” Harry replied. “So do I.” He then added, “So if you're right, and it
only takes ten minutes to make use of a broom closet, then the odds are…”

“Multiplied by the fraction of shift time spent within a broom closet. Ten divided by
one-hundred twenty is one over twelve, which, when multiplied…gets us back to the very favorable
odds of thirty-six to one against getting caught.”

“Definitely worth the risk then,” Harry grinned.

Hermione shrugged, as she rechecked the map, and replied, “Guess it depends on who you are
sharing it with.” She then pulled Harry to a full stop in front of a broom closet door that yielded
to a simple *Alohamora* spell, and (once opened), revealed a mass of red hair bobbing back and
forth in front of Draco Malfoy's trouser-covered crotch.

Harry snorted. “Yeah, I see what you mean…Merlin…Ginny…sucking off Draco?”

The witch whose back was to the door stopped her pistoning, but didn't turn around.

“Do you two mind?” the blond-haired wizard whined. “We're obviously busy here, so piss
off!”

“You know the rules, Draco.”

“Of course I do, and you ought to know I'm of age.”

“But your broom closet buddy isn't…are you Ginny?”

The red haired witch paused long enough to button Draco back up before rising from her knees and
turning defiantly.

“Piss off, Harry…I'm done waiting for you.”

“Gee, how could I have ever guessed, Gin-Gin?” Harry snarked. “So…I'm afraid that I'll
have to dock you points for poor taste in wizards and for engaging in an explicit sexual act. And
you too, Draco…for engaging in an explicit sexual act with an underaged witch.”

“I was doing no such thing,” Draco declared. “Ginny here was…she was inspecting the stitching on
the front my trousers!”

“There you go,” his red-haired partner declared with a hand wave. “So bugger off, Head Boy!”

Harry sighed, and looked towards Hermione for instructions.

She nodded, and said, “The possibility can't be discounted, I'm afraid…especially since
there was no physical evidence that Draco was sexually aroused by whatever type of…inspection…Miss
Weasley was performing. If she had been performing fellatio, she was obviously doing a piss-poor
job of it.”

“Hey!” Ginny whined. “I've never had any complaints before!”

“Before?” Harry asked incredulously. “There have been other times…with who…Dean? Michael?”

“Sod off, Harry.”

The Head Boy shook his head and let out a deep sigh. He needed time to sort out how he now felt
about the youngest Weasley. But he needed no time at all to heap some verbal abuse on Ferret Boy.
He turned to Hermione and smiled.

“So, Ginny says that she's never had any complaints, but Draco doesn't have a tent. So
either his *`Fully Erect Penis'* is so small that one can't tell the difference
between that and his *`Flaccid Penis**',* or else he's a poofter who can't
get it up when a witch sucks him off.”

The Head Boy then turned to Draco and asked, “So which is it, Malfoy?”

Draco sneered and scowled.

“Come on, Ginny,” he snapped, pulling the red-haired witch to her feet. “They can't prove
anything.”

“Other than the fact that you both are out after curfew,” Hermione noted.

“Doesn't apply,” the blonde-haired ponce stated. “I'm still a Prefect, and…I was
escorting Ginny back to her dormitory.”

“Escorting her while she inspected your trouser fly within a broom closet?” Hermione asked
incredulously.

“Can't prove otherwise, can you Mu….Ma'am?”

Hermione seethed at the insult that was on the top of Draco's lips, leaving it for Harry to
satisfy her honor.

“You're right, Draco,” he declared. “You too, Ginny…there's absolutely no concrete
evidence that either of you were engaged in any rule breaking, or illicit activity…which is why
neither of you should be concerned if I were to share a pensieved memory of this incident with your
parents.”

Ginny's face went pale. “You…you wouldn't, would you Harry?”

“Why not?” he asked. “I'm sure that your Mum will see things exactly the way you have
described them to be…just like Draco's mum won't think ill of her son…the Malfoy
Patriarch…getting a…trouser inspection…from a Weasley.”

The blond-haired wizard started to draw his wand, before his arm was held back by Ginny.

“What's wrong, Drake?” she asked. “You said that your mum approved of our…relationship.”

“Erm…yes, but…”

“So you were lying to me then?” Ginny screeched. “You promised me…”

“Not now, Ginny,” Draco hissed.

The only daughter of “Hurricane Molly” slapped the Head of House Malfoy hard on the face. “Not
now is right!” she yelled. “Not, never again, too!”

Ginny stormed off, and down the hallway. Just before turning a corner she screeched one more
time, pulled her wand, and cast a spell that soon had Draco spitting slugs.

“Hmm,” said Harry, as he stepped back away from the vomit spray zone. “Think we should dock her
points for wand usage in the hallway?”

Hermione smiled, and shook her head. “No, I think we'll leave it up to Draco to
decide…I'd much rather see how he writes up this incident.”

“Fair enough,” Harry replied. He slapped Draco on the back and said, “Well we've got more
patrolling to do, so…enjoy the rest of your evening.”

He then grabbed Hermione's hand and walked away, adding (out of the Slytherin's
earshot), “At least one of us should.”

Hermione gave her new boyfriend a questioning glance. “You mean you aren't looking forward
to enjoying the rest of the night with me?”

The Head Boy shrugged. “Of course I am, it's just that…you were hoping that patrol would
serve as foreplay. Can't imagine anything less sexually stimulating that the sight of Ginny
sucking off Draco.”

“Ah, I see your point,” Hermione replied. She pulled Harry to a stop, pulled out the map, and
added, “So let's see…has to be something here to rid our minds of that scene and gets us back
on track…ah, there we are! Fifth floor…Prefect's lavatory.”

“Who?”

“Let's keep that a surprise, shall we?”

“But…that's…even if the stairways cooperate, it'll take fifteen minutes to get
there.”

Hermione shrugged. “Sounds about right.”

“But if your ten-minute rule holds, they'll come and be gone by then!”

The Head Girl chuckled. “There you go again, Harry…working with flawed assumptions.”

“What….where did I go wrong?”

“The ten-minute rule only applies to wizards…witches, on average, take twice as long to
come.”

“So…but still…are you saying that there are some wizards who are considerate enough to help
their partner get off after they do?”

“No, Harry, I'm saying that there are some couples that don't include wizards.”

Harry thought for a moment, before his eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs. He grabbed
Hermione's hand, and launched down the hallway at a very brisk pace.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said. “I'm forgetting that trouser inspection already.”

**oo00OO00oo**

The monitoring of the Prefect's Bath, and brief observation of the tongue baths that Daphne
Greengrass and Lisa Turpin were giving each other, were such Patronus-worthy memories that Harry
wasn't bothered at all by the fact that the witches' cover boyfriends were also there,
comparing their wide stances (amongst other things) in the toilet stalls. Although the Head Boy
would be hard pressed to decide what had revved him up more…watching the Slytherin Ice Queen bury
her face in Lisa's thick patch of pubic hair, or watching Hermione “scratch an itch” while she
watched that same scene. It gave a wizard ideas…and it was only the fear that the two male gays
might perv on him that kept Harry from doing a bit of itching himself. So he didn't, and after
verifying ages and consent issues, and noting the restricted access to the room, the Head Boy and
Head Girl (reluctantly) gave the two couples some privacy.

The Marauder's Map quickly led Harry and Hermione straight to two more broom closet
liaisons, both of which required point taking and report writing. One involved underaged Sixth
Years, while the second took place behind an unlocked broom closet door that any Ickle Firsty could
have opened.

“So who are visiting next, Hermione?” Harry asked, after they escorted the last sexually
frustrated couple back to their individual dorms.

The Head Girl searched within the Marauder's Map for a few moments, then snorted.

“Well that didn't take long,” she muttered.

“What?”

Hermione shook her head. “Come on Harry…time to test your professional demeanor on a friend of
mine.”

“Who?”

“Now where's the fun if I told you?” she teased, as she led him by hand up a set of moving
stairs. “I'll just let you consider the…possibilities…along the way.”

Harry sighed. “You are a *wicked* witch, you know.”

“So are you going to hold it against me?”

“I'd rather hold it inside you, actually.”

Hermione giggled, and reached over to give Harry a crotch grab.

“And you call me wicked, you perv.”

“Is that a complaint?”

Hermione replied with only a Cheshire Cat-worthy grin as they stopped before a locked classroom
door. She looked at the door for a moment, then at the walls on either side of the door, and
smiled.

“Your turn to knock, Head Boy,” she declared.

Harry nodded, and drew his wand to cast an *Alohamora* spell. Discovering that this
low-level spell failed to provide access, he stepped back and tried a stronger unlocking charm. And
when that spell failed to negate whatever charms or wards had been applied to the door, he turned
to Hermione and asked, “So now what?”

The Head Girl smiled. “Well they've already passed the discreteness test…if those spells
can't open the door, then it's very unlikely that an underaged witch or wizard could get
past the door with intent to perv.”

“So we leave them alone?”

Hermione shook her head.

“You do know who is behind the door from the map, right?”

“Yes.”

“So are they Seventh-Years?”

“Yup.”

“So why….”

“Because there's a small chance that one or the other has been magically coerced…haven't
seen this coupling before. And because you still need some training on recognizing the difference
between explicit and non-explicit activity. And because…”

“What else?” Harry asked, arching an eyebrow. “Point of pride? Want to let them know that they
can't get one by you?”

Hermione shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Harry snorted, and gave the Head Girl a grandiose bow.

“Then I yield, and place the challenge in your hands.”

The bushy-haired witch giggled. “Don't feel so bad, Harry…that last spell would have opened
just about any lock I can image.”

“So why didn't the door open?”

Hermione chuckled, and cast a *Finite Incantatum* spell. The door shimmered for a moment,
and then disappeared from view.

“Can't open a door that isn't really there, Harry.”

“So it was…an illusion?”

Hermione nodded as she ran a hand along the wall at waist level. She stopped when she felt a
disillusioned door handle, and said, “Got you!” before cancelling that spell as well. The real door
to the classroom appeared, and yielded to a NEWT-level unlocking charm.

“Boy with all of this effort…hope that it's not another erection-killer on the other side,”
Harry muttered.

The Head Girl waggled her eyebrows, and said, “Only one way to find out” as she threw open the
door and pushed Harry inside.

The Head Boy's quick scan of the unused classroom bore down on a wide lectern, and the naked
brown-skinned witch who was bouncing on top of it, with a naked wizard in between.

Harry's eyes were drawn to the point of contact…or what he could see of the point of
contact. The bits were blurry…he could immediately kind of tell that there was penetrative
intercourse going on, with the witch riding the prone wizard. Her back was to him though, and she
was facing Harry, who could roughly distinguish between the witch's light-brown skin and black
pubic hair, and her lover's pale skin and brown pubes. But something was obscuring his
view.

Something more definite blocked his view when the naked witch called out *“Accio Robes,”*
and tried to cover herself. It was only then that Harry's focus drifted upwards, past
barely-covered breasts, and he made eye contact with a slightly embarrassed Ravenclaw.

“Liked what you could almost see, Harry?”

“Yes, I mean…no….Merlin! Padma…what are you doing?”

“Wasn't it obvious?” the Head Girl snarked, as she entered behind Harry and surveyed the
scene.

“Ah, Hermione…I should have guessed…you've bested me again,” said Padma.

The Head Girl shrugged. “Nice try, though…the illusions were top-notch.”

“Enough to keep the kiddies away?” asked the Ravenclaw witch.

Hermione nodded. “No worries there, Padma...sorry, but I need to check for magical compulsions
on both of you.”

The light-brown witch shrugged. “Sure…not like I don't know the protocols.” Padma then
turned around and looked down upon her mount.

“Hang tight, loverboy…this won't take long.”

“Erm…right…so, I'll just stay here then,” replied the nervous wizard.

Once the Head Girl cast the revealing charms that failed to detect compulsions, or coerced
intent, she turned to the Head Boy and asked, “So Harry…they weren't shagging in a place where
underaged eyes could ogle, they're both of age, and it's consensual sex. Anything
else?”

Harry thought for a moment, then turned back towards Padma, who still hadn't moved from her
point of impaling.

“No, I think we're done here, Hermione.”

“Are you sure, Harry?” she asked. “What about the explicit sex?”

“It didn't bother me,” the black-haired wizard shrugged. “And I'm of age…”

“That doesn't matter, though…remember?” Hermione asked. “Even if the lovers are adults, and
those viewing them are adults, it's out of bounds for them to display explicit sexual
acts.”

“But they didn't, Hermione.”

“They didn't?” his girlfriend asked. “You mean you didn't see his *`Fully Erect
Penis'* engulfed within her *`Fully Exposed Vagina'* while they were engaged in
*`Penetrative Vaginal Intercourse'*?”

“Not clearly enough to say conclusively,” Harry replied. “They had some sort of shield in front
of their bits which made things all blurry.”

“Really?” Hermione asked. She then turned towards Padma and said, “So what do you have up your
sleeve, Padma?”

“More like what she had up her fanny,” Harry softly snarked.

The Head Girl slugged the Head Boy in the arm for his unprofessional comment, then turned back
to the naked couple.

“Well?”

Padma smiled smugly.

“It's called a Pixelation Charm,” she declared. “Learned it over the summer.”

“Hmmm…never heard of it.”

“It's Japanese in origin,” the Ravenclaw explained. “Funny people…they think nothing about
men and women getting naked in a public bath or hot spring, but it's against the rules for them
to show bare bits. So they use this charm.”

“What does it do, then?”

“It creates a small visual distortion field that clings to your bits,” Padma replied. “It only
lasts for fifteen minutes, but given the nine point eight rule…”

Harry rolled his eyes at the reference.

“Wow, that's really interesting,” Hermione declared. “Mind if I take a look?”

The light-brown skinned witch snorted, then glanced towards Harry. A small smirk appeared on her
face, as she twisted around and asked her lover, “You don't mind, do you sweetheart?”

“Erm, no…not at all,” was the feint-voiced response.

“Thanks,” replied the Ravenclaw witch, as she bounced and wiggled to show her appreciation.
Then, without warning, she dropped the robes that she'd been holding against her front.

Hermione's focus went straight to Padma's pixilated crotch.

Harry, having “sort of seen” that area, allowed himself a glance at the Ravenclaw's clearly
visible breasts. It was the fifth pair that he'd seen that night…and also only the fifth pair
that he'd seen in his life. Ironically, none of those bared breasts belonged to Hermione…a
situation that he hoped would be fixed soon. Very soon.

“Like what you see, Harry?” Padma teased, as she reached up and slowly covered her large brown
nipples with her hands.

“No…I mean yes….I mean…I was just noting that you didn't have the charm applied to your
breasts.”

Padma snorted. “Are they that small that you'd rather not be able to see them?”

“No…of course not…it's just….”

“The Japanese don't care about showing tits or arse,” the Ravenclaw replied with a grin.
“And since the display of those bits isn't considered “explicit” under School rules….”

“Unless your partner is buggering that arse, or shagging those tits….” Hermione noted.

The Head Girl turned away from Padma's crotch and glared at Harry for a moment. He blushed,
and cast his eyes downward, which earned him a melodic giggle.

“Oh, relax, Harry,” Hermione chided. “Your ogling can be classified as observation, and…well,
Padma does have lovely baps, doesn't she?”

Harry smiled, and looked up.

“Lovely baps…that's the clinical term, then?”

“Oh, you…just give me a minute more.”

“Fine…take your time,” Harry replied.

The Head Girl smiled her thanks, then turned back and began to ask Padma specific questions
about the charm. The Ravenclaw Prefect was happy to explain the underlying arithmacy of the spell,
and launched into a mini-lecture, acting as if she were sitting in Flitwick's class…instead of
sitting on her boyfriend's `*“Fully Erect Penis.”*

The Head Girl seemed to forget where they were as well, and walked right up next to the nude
couple for a better look. She tentatively reached out towards the blurry area and asked, “So the
spell creates a zone of distortion, instead of specifically targeting your bits?”

“That's right.”

“Fascinating,” Hermione replied, watching her fingers blur as they approached Padma's fanny
and made contact with the witch's pubes.

“Doh!” huffed Padma's lover, as Hermione yanked her hand back from some decidedly unfeminine
bits.

“Sorry,” the Head Girl apologized.

Padma giggled. “No worries, Hermione…we have to work with the blurriness too.”

“You mean that you can't clearly see his bits…or he yours….”

“Nope.”

Hermione snorted. “So how does he know where he's going, then?”

“Oh, he doesn't,” Padma explained. “But what's the difference? Even without the charm
boys don't know exactly where to put it, and need a guiding hand.”

“Hey, I'm right here, you know,” the nude wizard called out.

Padma chuckled, then reached down and tickled her lover's blurry scrotum.

“Of course you are, honey.”

Hermione looked around Padma's torso, and said, “Sorry for poking your testicles.”

“No worries,” Padma replied on her lover's behalf. “I'll make it up to him in a
bit.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief, and gave the wizard who was laying underneath Padma a look of
sympathy.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know how you feel.”

The wizard snorted. “You mean that you've had a shag interrupted like this?”

“Erm, no…I…erm…it's just that Hermione can get a little…intense…when she's learning new
magic.”

The nude teen-ager smiled and shook his head, half-listening as his lover launched into the
magical underpinnings of the charm.

“No worries,” he replied. “My girlfriend can be just as…focused. But that's a good thing at
certain times, and for certain…activities.”

Harry snorted, and shook his head.

“So how about those Cannons?” he asked.

The nude wizard laughed, which caused Padma to bounce, which earned him a gentle chiding for
interrupting her lesson.

Harry rolled his eyes, and gently tapped Hermione's shoulder.

“Perhaps there might be a more…convenient…time to learn this spell?” he asked.

The Head Girl looked up and smiled. “Does that mean that you don't want me to test drive
this charm tonight?”

“Erm…”

“Hermione!” Padma squealed. “Don't tell me that he finally got his head out of his
arse?”

The Head Girl smiled brightly and reached out to intertwine her fingers with Harry's. “Okay,
I won't tell you that he finally got his head out of his arse.”

Padma squealed once more, and pulled Hermione into a hug…a hug that smashed her bared breasts
against Hermione's covered breasts, and dragged Hermione's and Harry's intertwined
fingers across Padma's bare thigh.

The scene added greatly to the gathering storm inside of Harry's pants. He gently pulled
Hermione away from Padma, and suggested that they really needed to get back onto patrol. Hermione
reluctantly agreed, but not before she offered to award points to Padma for her ingenuity (the
ability to award points being one of the perks of being Head Boy or Girl). The Ravenclaw was
initially excited about the award, until Harry pointed out that Hermione would have to justify it
in a written report reviewed by the Headmistress. So Padma decided that being left alone with her
lover would be reward enough, and encouraged Harry and Hermione to continue their patrol.

By this point in the evening, Harry was walking around with an obvious bulge in his pants.
Hermione was just as excited, but would have been able to claim she was cold had she been
challenged. And since Harry was the only one around, he wasn't going to press the issue,
especially when Hermione was so willing to take occasional breaks to kiss, and firmly press her
“issues” against his chest.

“So why didn't I get my head out of my arse before now?” Harry asked, after a particularly
passionate kiss.

“Because you were afraid that Ron would make a stink about the relationship?”

“But then…why didn't we figure this out once I stopped worrying about Ron's insecurity
issues?”

“Erm..because you were afraid that my father would make a stink about the relationship?”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, guess you're right...so do you think that your parents will object
now that school is started?”

“Oh, Daddy wouldn't have been upset if we had decided to become boyfriend and girlfriend
while we stayed with them…he likes you quite a lot.”

“So what would he be concerned about…that we'd be shagging while they were at the
Surgery?”

“Yes.”

“But…weren't we were legal to shag in the Muggle world at sixteen?”

“That's right.”

“So it's the sex before marriage issue?”

Hermione smiled, and shook her head. “Mum made sure I knew how to protect against pregnancy
three years ago, and told me that both Daddy and she were sexually active teenagers.”

“So what would he have been upset about?”

“That he didn't have the same opportunity to live with his girlfriend in an unsupervised
house when he was our age!”

Harry laughed. “So it's, `*If sneaking out to the woods for a shag was good enough for my
girlfriend and me, it's good enough for my children'*?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, that's a bit hypocritical.”

Hermione snorted. “So would you allow our teen-aged daughter to have the run of our house with
her boyfriend?”

“Our daughter…and our house?”

“Hypothetically speaking.”

“Erm…right, well…of course not…there'll be an age line around our house that keeps boys away
until she's twenty-five!”

“Oh, well…that's too bad, Harry.”

“Why? You wouldn't feel the same way?”

“Of course I would,” Hermione replied. “But if that's your decision, and you don't want
appear hypocritical, then…twenty-five, Harry? Don't think I can wait seven more years to shag
your brains out.”

Harry frowned, and realized that she had a point.

“Well, I guess…you've turned out brilliantly, so it couldn't be a bad thing to adopt
your Mum and Dad's parental policies as our own…and if your Mum gave you an unofficial green
light, and your Dad hasn't locked you up in a convent…then…”

“Then there's nothing keeping you and I from engaging in a little bit of, *`Penetrative
intercourse to completion'*,?”

Harry snorted, and cast a *Tempus* spell. “Nothing at all, other than the remaining
seventy-three minutes of our patrol.”

The Head Girl smiled and waggled her eyebrows.

“We'll see.”

“We…you mean…maybe we can cut patrol short?”

Hermione smiled even more brightly as she opened the Marauder's Map and gave it a close
once-over.

“We really do have to patrol until the end, but this Map has made monitoring broom closets so
efficient that…we could spend the rest of the shift on surveillance in the Astronomy Tower?”

“In the Astronomy Tower?” asked Harry. “Where we…we...we wouldn't have to wait another
seventy-three minutes?”

“Seventy-two, now..but who's counting?” Hermione snarked.

Harry eyes went wide at the thought as he stood behind Hermione and peaked over her shoulder at
the map. They grew even wider when he focused on the map's depiction of the Astronomy
Tower.

“But..Neville and Susan are…overlapping dots up there right now. And Parvati and Michael
Corner…and Lavender Brown and…Ernie Macmillan?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, it might be a little crowded, but I think we could make do.”

“But…so we'd be…would we be *`Engaging in explicit sexual activity'* within full
view of the others?”

“Well you did wonder what my dorm mates might think if they were watching you bent me over my
desk and shagged me silly.”

“But…”

“And there are ways to ensure that we could have a lot of…fun…without fear of it being labeled
as *`explicit sexual activity'*.”

“But…”

“And we really do have an obligation to ensure that the others don't violate school
rules…think of it as undercover surveillance work.”

“Wouldn't you rather our first time *be* under the covers, back in our Suite?”

Hermione chuckled, and pushed her bum back against Harry's front. After a wiggle confirmed
the state of his blood flow in that region, she asked, “Well he certainly likes the idea,
doesn't he?”

“So you want to do that…with me…up there…with the others there?”

Hermione pocketed the map, turned, and pulled her new boyfriend into an embrace.

“There's a lot we could do up there without falling into areas that are considered
*`sexually explicit activity'*,” she noted, as she reached around and pulled Harry closer
with a two-handed arse grab.

The Head Boy let out a content sigh as the Head Girl ground against his robe-covered *“Fully
Erect Penis.”*

“Have anything specific in mind?” he asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I've got a few ideas, but maybe…maybe we should take the
opportunity to do a little research on the topic?”

“And how would we do that?”

“Why, by observing well-practiced practitioners in the fine art of non-explicit sexual
activity.”

“So…you want to watch the others?'

Hermione shrugged. “It's one thing to read about it in a book, or to watch a video…but the
best classes are those that combine theory with practical demonstrations, right?”

“So… you think that I should watch Ernie..or Michael Corner…and follow their examples?”

“If you wanted to, I suppose,” Hermione replied. “But I think that I'd rather receive
tutorials from Neville and Susan on the proper way to titty-fuck.”

“Wha…really? And you think that they might really be doing that up there?”

Hermione shrugged. “One way to find out, I guess.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then a mad dash. And it would have been impossible for anyone to
tell who was pulling whom up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower.



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