In Which Hermione Questions Boys
Disclaimer: None of this is mine.
Authoress Note: I wrote this on a plane. I blame the high altitude for this story, seeing as if I was on the ground this would have never of even been thought about.
Dedication: To the tin can and it's driver who amazingly got me to the west coast. (I don't like planes. Ever since 9/11... -Shudder- They literally are tin cans!)
"Harry, Ron?" Hermione Granger hesitantly asked, looking at her two best friends with a slight blush on her face.
"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, putting down his pile of chocolate frogs to move his queen.
"You guys, I need to ask you something." She said, sitting down across from the two boys who were deeply immersed in their game.
"Well, spit it out, Hermione!" Ron said agitatedly, and then sat back in shock, for he had finally said something with an agitated tone of voice.
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, shocked as well, you sounded agitated! Yeah! You accomplished your life goal!"
"I know," Ron said proudly, "I'm happy too."
"Well, that's nice, really it is, but I have a bigger problem," Hermione intoned, getting frustrated with her two best friends.
"Oh, of course Hermione, carry on." Ron said proudly, gesturing for her to continue with an empty sweets rapper.
"Um...right. Do...do you guys think you could, well..."
"Hermione! Come out with it already!" Harry yelled, startling some first years who were pecking like chickens due to a misplaced charm by a third year, who was currently sporting blue hair, which would turn to green, then black, then hot pink every minute.
"Could you help me figure out boys?" Hermione said, blushing from head to toe. Ginny walked in, and saw Hermione looking like a giant strand of Weasley hair.
There was a shocked silence. Then, a small, squeaky laughter erupted from a deserted corner by the boy's dorms. Suddenly, Dobby fell out of the corner, laughing his giggly laugh, and rolling around on the floor with tears in his eyes. Everyone just looked at the poor elf, wondering what exactly his was sniffing, and wondering if they could get some as well, when Ginny spoke.
"Okay then, anyway, I have come up with a theory. This is my theory: The reason cats act so nice to you, is because they throw outrageous parties when we aren't around, and they want to make that you love them, so that when you find other cats passed out in the litter box, and other cats wobbling around, high off of cat nip, you won't throw it out on the street. So, this is what I propose: when we leave, we secretly put up cameras to video tape the cats, and watch them!"
"But Ginny, we don't have a cat." Ron said, wondering why it was that the female population that day seemed particularly...odd today.
"I know that Ronald, but still." She huffed, and ran out of the common room, screaming, "No one understands me!"
"She's mental, that one. Really, I have no idea what Mum sees in here." Ron said, shaking his head. "Now, Hermione, you wanted to know about boys..."
But Hermione just stared at him, her eyes wide. "What now?" Ron asked, furrowing his brow in frustration. "What the bloody hell is up now?"
"Ron," Hermione said breathlessly, "You just sounded smart."
"Wow, that is a shocker," Ron agreed. "But really Hermione, what do you want to know about boys?"
"How do they work?" She asked, looking at Ron in awe and wonder.
"Well," Harry said, noticing the looks Hermione was giving Ron, "Well, we work about the same as you, we have brains, and blood, and—"
"No, no, no. What's it like to think with your dick?"
There was an extremely prolonged silence as all of Gryffindor house took the time to stare at Hermione.
"What's it like to think with your dick? Jesus Hermione, there are first years here!" Lavender exclaimed, a shocked look on her face.
"What? Like you haven't wondered that? I mean, it's not like us girls can think with our breasts or vaginas, so I was wondering what it was like to think with an organ that's only purpose is to breed. And of course, provide pleasure." She said, defending herself.
"Fine, you've got me hooked. Really, Harry, Ron, what's it like to think with your dick?" Lavender said, giving in.
The boys responded with silence. In fact, the whole common room sat in silence, staring at the most brilliant and stupidest girls in Gryffindor like they had just both grown three more heads, became conjoined at the hip, and where spit out whole by a beluga whale. "Um—well..." Ron began.
"It's bloody painful." Colin Creevy said, sitting down on the chess board, squashing half the pieces. "I mean, you're carrying around a boner for half the day, and God damn, that hurts, because the school pants restrain you so much, and it really just hurts like shit. Not to mention that it's down right embarrassing. And then, the only way to get rid of it is to wank off, and that's messy, and I'll tell you guys, be happy you aren't a boy. I mean, it would be so much easier, not having a dick. But then, life would get boring, wouldn't?"
Everyone just looked at this boy, who was telling everything about thinking with your dick. And people were shocked. "And then, there are the wet dreams. Those are enticingly fun, but down right messy. I mean, you get it all over the sheets, and then you have to deal with the other boys, and sometimes, you can get several a night. It's awesome while you're in dream state, but it really sucks when you wake up. But that's nothing a cold shower can't fix."
And still, the common room sat in complete and utter silence. "So," he said, "Does that clear it up for you?" Hermione nodded her head, and profusely thanked Colin for telling her the facts of life that Harry and Ron were—unable to talk about.
Colin stood up, and left, and Lavender and Hermione got up. They walked up their stairs, when Lavender stopped Hermione. "Hermione," she said, "You know how Harry and Ron weren't able to answer your question?" Hermione nodded her head. "Well, do you think the reason they couldn't was because they are, well—gay?"
Fin