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Sex-Ed at Hogwarts ft. Severus Snape

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Severus Snape was casually strolling about the corridors, the latest Potioneers Weekly clutched in his hand. He was in a rare good mood, from having been published for this issue, and was looking forward to rubbing it in someone’s (Flitwick’s) face.

Suddenly, the door to the transfiguration classroom swung open, and Minerva poked her head out. “Ah, Severus,” she said, smiling thinly. Severus paused. He knew that smile. That smile meant Pain For Severus. He had learned to dread that smile.

“Ah, Minerva,” he replied with affected calm.

“Won’t you come in? I have a situation that requires a...male perspective.”

Severus stilled. “Black is a timeless and fashionable colour and I refuse to hear otherwise,” he offered. “A thin gold or silver trim to offset the main body and highlight desirable attributes may be added if so desired, but must be done tastefully.”

Minerva rolled her eyes. “I don’t need fashion advice. Just get in here,” she said, and Severus went with a sigh. He closed the door behind him and turned to see fourth years Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan looking flustered and embarrassed.

Minerva cleared her throat. “It has come to my attention that these two young men are in a relationship,” she said.

“Congratulations,” Snape offered. See? Snape didn’t hate ALL Gryffindors. In fact, he quite liked Thomas, and thought that the boy had real artistic talent. He would go far, farther than any of his scarlet-clad cohort, certainly.

“No. Being a woman, I am wholly unqualified to advise them as to the - ahem - ins and outs of the male body, and what to expect in a male homosexual relationship. I was hoping that you could advise them instead.”

“Because clearly, I am engaged in a loving and stable male homosexual relationship,” Severus said dryly. “I am not, and never have been.” Minerva looked dourly at him, and Severus sighed. “Fine, I have been. But I am no paragon on stable relationships. Perhaps Albus is better suited to this?”

“I tried that already,” Minerva said, “he just gave them lemon drops and told them that they were good boys. And besides, the last gay couple I sent to him for advising, Elton Symthewick ended up pregnant in his seventh year. He had to deliver the baby during his charms NEWT.”

“Ah, I remember that,” Snape said. “Dumbledore insisted on being named god-grandfather.”

“So you see why I am reluctant to send them back to Albus,” she said, glancing at Dean and Seamus, who were listening to the casual gossip with rapt attention.

Severus sighed. “Very well. Thomas, Finnegan, listen well.” Snape straightened and walked to the blackboard. With a swish of his wand, the words “Male Homosexuality and The Workings of A Healthy Gay Relationship” appeared on the board. He waved his wand again, and several subtopics appeared.

The Male Body
Caring for your partner
Minerva grinned. “I’ll leave you to it, then, shall I, Severus?”

Severus sighed. “Very well. Thomas, Finnegan, pay attention. I will not have either of you falling pregnant and delivering your spawn during a potions exam. No make up exam will be provided in this scenario.”

Dean and Seamus gulped, and readied their parchment and quills. It was going to be a long day.


“For the love of Merlin,” Snape muttered, and massaged his temples, feeling very sorry for himself. “Minerva, please olbliviate me.”

“No,” she said severely, and glared at Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint, who stood abashedly in the corner. “You see what your shenanigans have done? You have given Severus a headache.”

“We’re really sorry, sir,” Oliver said earnestly, while Flint grunted supportively. “It’s just...we didn’t expect you - or anyone - to open the broom closet so late at night!”

“Hm. Why were you in the broom closet this late, Severus?” Minerva asked.

“To escape this madhouse!” Severus barked angrily, and turned his glare upon a Wood and Flint. “You two! How dare you do- that! On public property! Without protection! Have you no thought of the consequences of your actions, or do you actually have bludgers for brains!?”

Wood flinched, and Flint looked chastened. Severus sighed. “Wood, see me tomorrow for a morning after potion.” Severus looked balefully at him. “What has gotten into you two?” He despaired.

“Ah, sir, you know how it is,” Wood flinched. “It was after the match, and we were all muddy and wet, and passions were high, so one thing led to another and-“

“Yes thank you, I understand,” Severus yelled. “Get out, I have to brew a morning after potion. Good grief. I say. Egads.”

Wood and Flint scurried out, and Severus did not fail to notice that they were holding hands. Young love. Urgh.

“Can you imagine,” Minerva asked, “if they end up having a family? It will be a quidditch dynasty,” she said, already weaving plans for the future of the Gryffindor quidditch team.

“I don’t want to imagine, woman, what is wrong with you?” Severus groaned.

Minerva, sadist that she was, just laughed.


“Good grief,” Severus muttered into his hands. “I say. By Jove. I never. Egads.”

Across from him, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe held each other’s meaty hands and waited. Also with them was Draco Malfoy, who was being very shrill.

“You must do something, uncle Sev, they are driving everyone mad with their...moaning and...bedsprings, and- I can’t do it anymore! I will fling myself into the lake if I have to see one more sliver of flesh from Goyle’s arsecheek! And then you will have to weep over my drowned corpse and explain how your inaction led to my untimely, tragic demise!”

Goyle looked guiltily at Draco and said in his uncharacteristically soft voice, “Don’t drown yourself, Draco. I’ll be so guilty that I’ll never be able to make love to Vinnie again.”

Severus let out a thin whine and wished for death.

“How can you let me, your beloved godson, suffer such atrocities?” Draco went on theatrically. “And here I was, labouring under the misconception that you loved me like a son!”

Severus was very close to throwing said beloved godson out of his rear. “I will deal with this,” he said decisively. “Draco, out.”

Draco sniffed haughtily, but left. Crabbe and Goyle had still not let go of each other’s hands. After the door had shut behind Draco, Goyle spoke. “Please don’t break us up, sir,” he said quietly. “Vince and I are in love.”

“I can’t live without Greg,” Crabbe piped up gruffly. “If you try to break us up, we’ll elope, we will.”

Snape looked at the two boys who resembled sides of beef, clearly head over heels in love with each other, and sighed. “There will be no theatrics necessary - Draco is quite sufficient. Furthermore, he will he heartbroken if you two leave him.”

“We weren’t gonna leave him,” Crabbe piped up. “We were gonna take him with us. We’d kidnap him-“

“Gently,” Goyle interjected.

“-we have a plan and everything,” Crabbe stressed.

Good lord, Winkus and Dinkus had a plan. Severus mourned his sanity. “As I have said, there will be no need to elope. I believe that a few well placed silencing charms and notice me not charms ought to suffice to bring Draco some peace of mind.”

Crabbe and Goyle beamed at him, enhancing their resemblance to some rock formations. Severus sighed. He really was a softie.


“Severus, it seems that we have a recruiting problem,” Lord Voldemort mused aloud. “Several children of current death eaters have no wish to join my ranks. Have you any thought as to why?”

Severus sighed deeply. At least he wouldn’t have to occlude for this. “I believe that the power of love is far more cumbersome than we might have expected, my Lord.”

Voldemort delved into Severus’ thoughts, and skimmed the surface of a memory of when he caught Crabbe Jr. and Goyle Jr. in flagrante. He jerked back with a shudder. “Good grief,” Voldemort muttered, then fixed Severus with a glare, “you did that on purpose.”

“i would never seek to show my Lord my eternal grief,” Severus said reverently.

“That explains Crabbe and Goyle,” Voldemort said. “What about Flint’s son?”

“Eloped, my Lord,” Snape said. “He and his happy husband Mr. Wood now play for the Scottish Quidditch League.”

“Gah!” Voldemort spat. “At this rate, we will be left with Hufflepuffs.”

“Perish the thought, my Lord,” Snape said, occluding like mad as he envisioned Voldemort being swarmed by clingy, emotional, Hufflepuffs. Perhaps that was the Power He Knew Not.

For now though, Snape contented himself at the Dark Lord’s torture.


“Surely, you are joking,” Severus said, his voice strained. “You cannot possibly be serious about this.”

Across from him, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter stared back at him balefully. “It’s not like it was planned,” Harry defended himself. “It was one night of unbridled passion between sworn enemies. Could you please just give me some morning sickness potion?”

Severus flung a vial at Harry, who gulped it down gratefully. However, the beleaguered potions master was not finished, not by a long shot. “What,” he asked, “do you plan to do about the great honking war, Potter? Do you plan to throw up at the Dark Lord until he leaves? A magical placenta, perhaps? Or will you strangle him with the umbilical cord!?”

“Uncle Sev, please,” Draco said, “you are disturbing my finacé.”

“Excuse me?” Both Harry and Severus exclaimed. “I am not your bloody fiancé!” Harry yelled.

“Oh ho! You most certainly are! That is a Malfoy you are gestating in that womb, and no Malfoy scion will ever be born out of wedlock! There will be a wedding, oh yes!”

Severus groaned. “A wedding!”

“Indeed. Uncle Sev, you’ll hav to give me away, as my father is up to his evilness. Potter, maybe a Weasley can give you away. You cannot, of course, wear white, it washes you out something terrible. A navy blue, perhaps, and I will match, of course-“

“I take it that you are no longer keen on being a death eater?” Severus asked Draco tiredly.

“Of course not, my family comes first. And I refuse to follow someone with no nose. It’s the principle of the thing, really.”

Severus sighed. He’d have to tell Dumbledore that all of his well crafted plans were going to be in need of a dire change. Watching Potter gape at Draco’s ostentatious wedding planning, Severus thought that perhaps, just this once, things may change for the better.


They used the placenta as an ingredient in a ritual to banish Voldemort into another dimension. Harry would live out his long, happy, life, and that would also be the end of the accidental horcrux.

What a fortuitous turn of events, Snape mused, tuning out Dumbledore’s earnest rant about how love was all powerful. Instead, he leaned over and picked up the newborn from Harry’s side.

“Look at you,” Snape mused, “a useful Potter. And just think, I was so against student fraternaization.”

“My son is glorious,” Draco beamed. “Excellent job during that labour, Potter.”

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Harry said tiredly.

“You are married,” Snape observed, “and yet you persist in calling each other by your surnames.”

“We tried the whole given names and nicknames thing,” Harry said, “but it just wasn’t right. I couldn’t go from calling him ‘Malfoy’ for seven years, and then switching to ‘sweetie’ overnight.”

“Forget that I asked,” Snape grumbled. “I shall take the Chosen Placenta now. I have a dark lord to banish.” He snagged the organ and left, already plotting Voldemort’s demise.

Clearly, when there was actual work to be done, Severus Snape was the only man for the job.