Professor McGonagall turned around and faced the classroom full of girls. There was absolute silence in the room and the air was thick with tension. "Could anybody define the word on the blackboard for me?"
The silence continued.
"Come now, girls. Everybody in this room is female. This is a matter that needs to be discussed. It would be better and easier if it is discussed without embarrassment. What does the word mean?"
Hermione raised her hand.
"Miss Granger?"
"Manustupration – it comes from the Latin, manus stupare. It means to defile with the hand."
"That is its etymology. What does it mean?" Professor McGonagall was staring at Hermione, almost staring through her.
"It means the same as masturbation."
"That is a synonym, Miss Granger. And one mostly used by Muggles. I want a definition."
"Well – it means rubbing your private parts." Hermione blushed.
"Yes, that is the knub of it. Manustupration involves using the hand or some object to touch the reproductive organs or the area around them. A large number of people – probably most people – do it from time to time, because people find it pleasurable. But it's a practice that can lead to serious problems and that's the reason we are talking about it today."
Professor Snape turned around and faced the classroom full of boys. There'd been a moment of brief laughter from a couple of places in the room as he'd finished writing the word, but it was entirely quelled as he swept his eyes across the room looking for its source. He seemed nervous and that was infectious. As he looked at the boys in the room, those who came under his gaze found themselves feeling nervous as well.
"Who can tell me what this word means?"
Dead silence.
"Is this entire year so ignorant that none of you know what the word means? I can understand, perhaps, that those of you who are from Muggle families may not have encountered the word – although I also understand that most of you are probably far more familiar with the concept than you should be… Anyone?"
Nobody dared raise their hand.
"Malfoy. I know you will have been taught what this is, and also why it is something that no true Wizard should engage in. Please, tell us, what you have been taught."
Draco looked a bit surprised to have been singled out. "Well, Sir. Manustupration is defilement. Defilement with the hand. Abuse of your own self."
"Can anyone in this room tell me what Muggles call it? Finch-Fletchley, would you care to share your answer with the rest of us? Stand up."
Justin Finch-Fletchley stood up. "Masturbation, Sir."
"Yes – although I do not think that is the word that you just whispered to Boot. I'll see you at the end of this class. Masturbation – a common term used in the Muggle world, it seems. And it's acceptable. Clinical. Correct. Finch-Fletchley – can you tell me what you know about it?"
"Um… well. When boys do it, they rub their… penises. Until they, um, well, until they… ejaculate."
"Such clinical language. Good. Why do they do it?"
"Because it feels good."
Professor Snape nodded. "And what have you been taught about its dangers?"
"Dangers, Sir… I'm not sure what you mean."
"Miss Granger. Would you please tell the class what Muggle children are told about manustupration, or if you prefer, masturbation."
"You mean, about what it does to you?"
"Yes, precisely."
"Well, they are told that it's harmless. That it's a normal part of growing up. That lots of people do it. And it's normal and doesn't do any harm."
"Thank you, Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall looked around at the girls. "That is the reason we are having this special class. Some of you are from Muggle families and it has recently come to our attention that this is what Muggle children are being taught. And it probably doesn't do them any harm, because they are Muggles and for Muggles, it's hard to see how manustupration could do any harm. But it's different for wizards and it's different for witches. For us, this is a practice that can do a great deal of harm and you need to know that."
"Now I am not going to ask any of you whether or not you have engaged in manustupration. I don't see any reason to embarrass anybody by asking."
"So, Finch-Fletchley. You're not sure what I mean by manustupration being dangerous?"
"No, Sir."
"You haven't been taught that it is dangerous?"
"No, Sir."
"What have you been taught about it?"
"That's it's normal. That it's safe. That nearly everybody does it."
"Do you?"
"Sir?" Justin looked very surprised at the question.
"It's a simple question, Finch-Fletchley. You've been taught it is normal. You have been taught that it is safe. And you have been taught that nearly everybody does it. It seems to me that we all know what your answer to the question is likely to be."
"I don't think I should answer that question, Sir. It's none of your business."
"Oh, but it is, Finch-Fletchley. Very much our business."
Professor Snape swept his eyes across the classroom. "It is our job to make sure you all leave Hogwarts – all of you – as competent and powerful as wizards as it is possible for you to be. To that end, if any of you are engaged in activities that will make you less powerful, it is most definitely our business to see that those activities cease."
"Magical power is complex. Precisely where it comes from is still not absolutely understood. But we do know that it is tied up with the vital force of the human body. And we know there are certain things that release that force, that diminish it. And one of these is an experience that is generally referred to as the paroxysm. Muggles, I believe, refer to it as orgasm. It is something that should be the climax of the sexual union between two people. It has been described as the only moment in which even Muggles can feel the true power of magic, which perhaps indicates just how powerful the release of energy is at that moment.
"It is powerful, girls. And pleasurable too. But there is a time and a place for it. And that time and place is with a person that you love, a person that you have married. It is not something to be sacrificed casually, whether by yourself or with another person."
"Some of you are Muggleborn and there is, of course, nothing wrong with that. But it may be that your Muggle parents have, with the best possible intentions, with their knowledge of what is and isn't true in the Muggle world, have given you information and guidance about these matters that is wrong for a young witch to have. You are here at Hogwarts to learn. You are here at Hogwarts to learn how to be the best you can be at magic. While you are at this school, we are responsible for you, and we will do our best to make sure you don't do yourselves any harm. And if you do, we'll fix it."
"Sit down, Finch-Fletchley. And all of you who are smirking, stop it right now. Or I'll make you stand up and I'll ask you the same question."
Professor Snape began to pace at the front of the room. His early nervousness seemed to have gone.
"Most of you in this classroom, if not all of you, will have engaged in manustupration. It requires a great deal of self-discipline to refrain from such activities, and I know very well that very few of you have yet mastered that particular virtue in any great quantity. Every time you do it, you cost yourself a small measure of your magical powers. But that fact alone is not enough to stop most of you. Perhaps until now, some of you had the excuse of ignorance. But you no longer have that excuse, so let me make things very clear to you. From now on, you must do your best to develop the self discipline needed to protect your powers, or the adults in this school will ensure that such protection is achieved by imposed discipline.
He walked over to his desk and he gestured to the case containing his cane. "Those of you with Wizards as parents are probably aware of the traditional way of discouraging manustupration, whether your parents have used it or not. Consider if a moment of fleeting pleasure is worth the pain associated with particular responses, even if the fear of losing your magic is not sufficient deterrent to see you exercising self control.
"And if any of you have any thoughts or ideas about trying any of the other… traditional methods of trying to deal with these issues, understand that they are not acceptable at your age, or in this school.
"Now – does anybody have any questions?"
"There are a number of different theories and ideas as to how this type of problem should be addressed. The teachers have discussed them in detail over the last week or so, and have decided on the approach we should take. It is the method that most of us believe is most likely to be effective. It is in line with recent changes made in the school. It has been decided that manustupration will be treated as something that needs to be punished if it is detected.
"Girls, I don't want to frighten you. Many of you will have done this, both Muggleborns and others. If it's only happened occasionally, you won't have done yourself any real harm, and you are young enough that even if it wasn't occasional, and you stop now, it's unlikely to have hurt you. But it's not something that most people find that can do occasionally and control and so that type of approach can't be accepted.
"Now – does anybody have any questions?"
"No questions. I suppose I must be an excellent teacher. But I know something that makes me even better. Finch-Fletchley, come up here, please."
Justin stood up and walked up to the front of the room, as Professor Snape opened the case on his desk and drew out his cane.
"You know better than to whisper to other people in my class. Bend over, Finch-Fletchley, and touch your toes."
Justin took a breath and did as he was told. Professor Snape reached down and lifted the back of his robes and folded them across his back, and then lined the cane up across Justin's bottom, right across the centre of the seat of his trousers. He drew the cane back and slashed it down, with a sharp, almost explosive crack. Justin showed no sign of real reaction. Snape lifted the cane again and brought it down again with a second crack and this time, Justin let out a heavy gasp of pain.
"That will do, Finch-Fletchley." As the boy stood up, Snape said, in a very measured tone. "All of you, that is what is expected. When you earn a punishment, accept it, do not argue. Co-operate. You can go. And remember your homework, all of you – I meant what I said in the last class."
Lavender Brown raised her hand, tentatively.
"Yes, Miss Brown."
"Professor… you said that the paroxysm is something that should be experienced between two people. When that happens, does that mean that there's no problem?"
"Well – there's no loss of power if both those people are wizards or witches. But that doesn't mean there are no problems. There are quite a few problems with the idea, and if any of you are contemplating…"
"I'm just asking, Professor. I'm not saying that I think anybody should do anything."
"Well – certain things are not appropriate at school. They are not appropriate for underage wizards and witches. As adults, when you are married, things will be different – in that situation, such things are very appropriate. Until then, while they might not harm your magical ability, you are not ready for them, and, I should also make it clear, that this is something else that would be punished.
"Girls… there are plenty of boys who may try to take advantage of this situation and claim a mutual benefit might attach to particular activities. I am confident all of you are intelligent enough not to be persuaded by such transparent tactics. Now, if there are no more questions, you can go."
When Harry and Ron arrived at Gryffindor tower, along with Seamus, Dean, and Neville, they saw that the girls had already arrived. They'd been delayed by talking to Justin about what had happened and commiserating with him. But the Hufflepuff boy had taken it in his stride, claiming that it was no worse than canings he'd received at the prep school he'd attended before coming to Hogwarts. It hurt, but he could take it.
Students from various years had formed into small groups and were talking. Some about what had just happened, some deliberately about other things.
Hermione was sitting alone in a corner looking pensive. Ron began to head over towards her, but Harry put his hand on his best friend's shoulder.
"Ron, do you mind if I talk to Hermione for a minute? Alone?"
"What about?"
"It's a bit – look, Ron, she's Muggleborn, and I grew up with Muggles."
"Oh – and what you've just been told was new to you?"
"Sort of. Look, I just want to talk to her. Okay?"
Ron looked a bit puzzled. "All right. I'll go up and get our books. You see if she'll help us with our homework. We'd better get it done."
Harry went over to the corner when Hermione was sitting as Ron headed upstairs. Hermione looked up at him with a half smile.
"Do you think we caused that, Harry?"
He sat down. "I don't know. But it seems like a pretty big coincidence. Mrs Weasley catches me…"
"Yes. And then I talked to her…"
"And now Hogwarts thinks this is something all Muggleborns need to know."
"Well, I suppose it is. But it's all a bit embarrassing."
"It shouldn't be, Harry. Not really. It's just how the human body works. I suppose it's a bit unfortunate that it works the way it does, but…"
"You're honestly not embarrassed by this?"
"I'm trying not to be. You're the one who told me to be clever about it, Harry. To treat it just as facts. Well, I am. The human body is a natural thing. It works the way it works. We shouldn't be embarrassed by it."
Ron was approaching, so Harry changed the subject. "So Hermione, Snape made it pretty clear, again, that he'd be caning anybody who didn't hand in their homework tomorrow, and I'm pretty sure you don't want that to happen, so how about you help us with it?"
"Honestly. I told the two of you to do it on Friday. I really should let you get caned. It might do you some good."
Ron sat down. "But you won't. Besides… I'm sure we could get twelve inches done by tomorrow, it would just be twelve inches of really bad work, and we wouldn't learn anything from it, and wouldn't it be better if you helped us, and we learned something, instead of just doing our homework so we don't get in trouble. I mean, you do want us to learn, don't you, Hermione."
She looked at him. "Oh – open up 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi, quickly. Before I change my mind."
The following day, when they arrived at class, all three of them placed their rolled up homework on Snape's desk, along with everybody else. They went to their cauldrons and they gave their attention to the lesson. Nobody wanted to be made an example of. Nobody wanted to be the subject of more of Professor Snape's experimentation. The lesson followed on from their homework – they had to create a potion designed to control accelerated hair growth caused by different things and both Ron and Harry found themselves rather grateful that Hermione had insisted they learn what she was helping them write as the work would have been very difficult indeed if they'd simply rushed their homework.
Professor Snape seemed disappointed by the fact that they were doing so well. Everybody seemed to be, even Neville. They really did have the impression that he was looking for somebody to punish, and nobody wanted to give him the excuse to make them the target of his cane. Eventually, realising that he had a class of apparently hard working, diligent, and silent pupils, he went to his desk and began to sort through the homework.
"Miss Granger."
Hermione looked up, "Yes, Professor Snape?"
"Where is your homework?"
"It's on your desk, Sir."
Professor Snape sorted through the pile of parchment again.
"Miss Granger. I can't see your homework here."
"But I put it there."
Everybody in the class looked up.
"Get on with your work." Professor Snape sorted through the piles of parchment a third time.
"It is not here, Miss Granger."
"But I did hand it up, Sir."
"Check your bag."
Hermione looked through her bag. Once, and then more frantically, a second time.
"It's not here, Sir!"
"And it is not on my desk."
The class were all looking up again. Hermione Granger – and no homework. There had to be a mistake.
"But, Sir…"
"Come and check for yourself. Perhaps you can find it." Professor Snape's voice was cool.
Hermione went up to the desk and went through every piece of parchment on the desk one by one. It didn't take that long, and when she had finished, she stood there looking very nervous.
"It's not here, Sir."
"No. It is not." Professor Snape stood up, and walked around to the front of his desk. He reached down to the long thin green leather case and undid the two silver clasps. Everyone in the class watched in open mouthed silence.
Hermione said in a very quiet voice into the quiet classroom. "You can't."
"I most certainly can, Miss Granger."
"But I did my homework."
"Then where is it?"
"I don't know. It must be lost."
"Lost. I see." He drew out the long, thin, rattan cane. "Bend over and touch your toes."
"But, Sir…"
"Miss Granger. Did I not, at the end of the last class, when I gave this homework, make it clear that I would accept no excuses if it was not handed in?"
"Yes, Sir, but –"
"Then I will accept no excuses. Bend over and touch your toes, or the punishment will be worse."
"But I did the homework."
"There is no evidence of that. And I warned you, you are just making it worse for yourself. Bend over now."
"I did it, I swear, I did it." Hermione sounded on the verge of panic.
"I do not care what you swear. It is a fact that the homework is not here and I will accept no excuse."
"But this is unfair!"
"Miss Granger." Snape looked down at her with an almost blank expression on his face. "When I had cause to cane Longbottom, you were very quick indeed to remind me of the rules. You are aware of them?"
"Yes, Sir."
"What is Rule Eleven?"
"Any student who refuses to accept physical chastisement is liable to expulsion from the school"
"Word for word, Miss Granger. Bend over, now."
"But…"
"This is your last chance before I send you to see Professor Dumbledore and see you expelled…" Harry began to rise in his seat. So did Ron next to him, and they could tell that a lot of Gryffindor were not pleased about what was happening (though the Slytherins seemed to be enjoying it. "… and your friends as well, if they are as foolish as they seem. Miss Granger. You know the rules. Am I breaking any? Is there any reason I cannot punish you? Am I exceeding my authority?"
Hermione looked over at Harry and Ron, and shook her head slightly. "No, Sir."
"Then bend over and touch your toes."
She looked at Ron and Harry both ready to jump to her defence. And she seemed to make a decision. She bent forward, all the way forward and touched her fingers to her toes. Harry and Ron sank back into their seat. Why… they were never sure, except they knew she'd made a decision and they felt the need to accept it.
Professor Snape lifted the back of Hermione's robe, and bunched it up and folded it across her back, higher than he had done with either Neville or Justin. He spoke.
"I had planned to give anybody who failed in their homework, four strokes of the cane. Miss Granger, however, did not obey my instructions. Miss Granger knows the rules. Rule One is Class teachers and certain other authorised staff may use a reasonable level of physical chastisement to discipline students. I have the right to cane you if I believe you deserve it. So four strokes become six. You continued to argue…" He reached down and grabbed the hem of her skirt and pulled it up and folded it across her lower back, "and so now I will exercise my rights under Rule Six - The Headmaster, the Deputy Headmaster, and Heads of Houses may administer such punishment across the underwear-clad… and as you continued to argue I will go to its limit." He reached into the waist band of her pale yellow knickers and tugged them down, "or bare buttocks of students at their discretion. I will not be argued with."
Hermione gave a quiet shudder, as she realised she was on display to the class. She pressed her legs together, in an effort to hide as much as she could from display. And Snape almost seemed to help her, but putting his hand on her lower back and helping her turn so her bottom was facing directly towards the class. It was still embarrassing, humiliating, but at least now she felt like all that could be seen was a portion of her anatomy that everybody in the classroom had, rather than only half of it.
Professor Snape walked behind her, and took up position just behind her to her left. He swished the cane through the air a couple of times. And then he laid it right across the centre of her pale bottom. Everybody in the class was focused on the sight. Some finding it even more interesting than others.
Professor Snape drew back the cane and with a swift, slashing motion, lashed it down right across the centre of Hermione's bottom. For a moment, she felt nothing, and then there was a flood of absolute burning agony flowing through her buttocks. Her only previous experience of corporal punishment – her spanking at the hands of Mrs Weasley – had not, in any way, prepared her for this.
To the watchers, where the cane had fallen, a white line appeared right across her bottom as Professor Snape lifted the cane away. And then the line turned an angry reddish colour, as he slashed the cane down again.
The pain this time was instant and even worse than it had been from the first stroke. Hermione felt tears flowing into her eyes and she closed them to try and hold the tears in. To the watchers, there were now two angry red lines right across her bottom, one just above the other.
The third stroke was even worse, if such a thing was possible. The pain just kept building and she heard herself give a strangled little cry. Her eyes were stinging now and she knew she'd never be able to hold in the tears, but she tried to anyway. Snape could cane her. He had the right. But she could do her best to deny him any satisfaction he might get out of knowing he'd hurt her. To the watchers the third line seemed less vivid, but that was because for them the shock of what they were seeing was just beginning to ebb just a little. In only three strokes, the unprecedented had started to become familiar.
With the fourth stroke, her eyes came open and tears dripped from them, but that release made the pain easier to take somehow. Reacting made it easier. Perhaps it would be better if she gave in to the feelings she had and let them out. But somehow that felt like it would be letting Snape win. And she was not going to let Snape win. And to the watchers, the straightening of her legs was noticeable.
With the fifth stroke, she almost screamed, but she choked back the sound in her throat. She was a Gryffindor and she would not give Slytherin the satisfaction of seeing how much she was hurting. But, oh, she was hurting. The pain was incredible and getting worse with each stroke, but she knew the limit was six. She knew the rules. Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall had the power to authorise more than six strokes for her, but Professor Snape did not. He wasn't her Head of House. And the watchers realised she was going to endure it all.
The sixth stroke came and she knew that anymore would break her. But that didn't matter, because she knew no more would come. She'd made it through and though she was hurting, and hurting more than she had ever imagined she could, she now knew better than ever that she could take whatever she had to take. Her bottom was lined – she knew it, and the watchers knew it, because they could see it, they could see it blazing red against the white.
"Stand up, Miss Granger, and fix your clothes."
She did as she was told to. Whatever triumph she felt, she knew she really did have to obey Snape and nothing was gained by not doing so. He looked at her.
"You may leave, Miss Granger. You are excused from the rest of this lesson."
She walked past the class to the back of the room, and out the door. And Professor Snape returned his cane to his case. He turned around to face the class.
"My rules apply to everyone. And I will not be argued with. When I decide a student should be punished, that student will be punished. Whoever they are." His eyes seemed to dwell for a moment on the Slytherins in the front row, closest to his desk.
As soon as Hermione had left the classroom, as soon as she rounded the corner so nobody in her class could have seen her, she began to run. To run and to weep, to sob, to cry her heart out. Her bottom hurt. There was no sense in denying it. She was in pain. She'd been punished and she didn't deserve most of the punishment – all right, she shouldn't have argued, the rules were on Professor Snape's side, but she'd done the homework, she'd handed it in. She ran up the stairs, she barely knew where she was going, all she knew was that she needed to get as far away from the dungeon's as possible. She ran almost blindly.
Around a corner and into somebody. A teacher. Professor Burbage.
Professor Burbage looked shocked. "Miss Granger, why aren't you in… Hermione, what is wrong?" Hermione looked at the Muggle Studies teacher. Even though she dropped the subject, she liked Professor Burbage, she'd seemed kind and calm and pleasant all through the previous year. Hermione tried to speak, but all that came out were sobs.
"Come with me." Professor Burbage lead her to the Muggle Studies classroom. She opened the door, lead Hermione inside and close the door and locked it. She lead Hermione to a seat at the front of the room, and noticed – noted – how gingerly the girl sat down in it. She went over to her cupboard of Muggle supplies and from a bottle poured a large measure of an orange liquid into a glass. She then took another seat and pulled it up and sat down next to Hermione and handed her the glass.
"Drink this, I find it's good for shock."
"What is it-t, some sort of p-potion?"
"No, it's Lucozade. Now drink up."
Hermione took a sip, then a gulp, and then emptied the glass. And seemed a lot more composed, though the tears didn't stop.
"Now what happened, Hermione?"
"Professor Snape gave me the cane."
"I see." Professor Burbage sighed. "I can't imagine you did, but did you deserve it?"
"Not really. It was for not doing my homework. And I'd done it, but it disappeared. At least that's how it started. I argued with him and that made it worse."
"Oh dear." Professor Burbage sighed again. "Well, it sounds like you've had a very bad day."
"Yes."
"How many strokes did you get?"
"Six."
"Ouch."
"And it was even worse."
"Worse?"
"He caned me on my bare bottom." Hermione began to sob again, just for a moment, before she pulled herself together. "Sorry, Professor."
"It's all right, Hermione. Cry if you want to."
"No, I don't want to. But it was so embarrassing, so humiliating, the whole class was there."
Professor Burbage stood up and walked back to her cupboard. "Do you want another Lucozade? Or I have Ribena. I have Coca-Cola. Some of those Muggle drinks are pretty marvellous, just as much kick as Butterbeer, but no alcohol whatsoever."
"Oh, please, Professor. No more Muggle stuff. I don't want any Muggle stuff right now."
"Why not?"
"Because I feel like…" Hermione became silent.
"Hermione, please finish that sentence."
"Sometimes… not often, but sometimes, I wish I was a Muggle…"
Professor Burbage came back to where Hermione was sitting.
"Hermione… I think I understand how you feel."
"You do?"
"Yes, I do. Hermione, I'm Muggleborn, just like you. I know how hard it can be sometimes. You're torn between two worlds."
"Yes…"
"But you seem to fit in so well here, Hermione. You're the top student in your year. You have good friends who aren't Muggleborns, so you don't seem to be isolated here at school. So what has brought this on?"
"Lots of things." Hermione's eyes drifted to the blackboard. There obviously hadn't been a Muggle Studies class yet today as the blackboard hadn't been erased after the lessons of the previous night. The word 'Manustupration' was still written across it. Professor Burbage saw her looking.
"Does that have an effect?"
"What?!?"
"Well, Hermione, you are 14 years old. I remember being 14. Quite well, actually. And being 14 and being Muggleborn and having some… different ideas from other students."
Hermione shook her head. "No. Well. Not really. I mean, it just reminds me how different things can be. If I was just a Muggle. I wouldn't have to worry about that at all. There's so many things that are different, and sometimes they all seem too much. I mean if I was at a Muggle school, it's pretty unlikely I'd be at a school where they used the cane. And even if they did, there's no chance I'd have had my knickers pulled down in front of a room full of boys. I mean, it was so… Oh, I don't know."
Professor Burbage opened a Butterbeer for Hermione, and a can of Coke for herself. "Hermione – forget about what happened to you today in class. What do you think of the cane in general?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well – do you think it should be used? As a punishment, I mean."
Hermione looked at her. "Yes… you know I really do. It was pretty awful at primary school, you know. I wanted to learn and so many of the other children just misbehaved. They didn't seem to care about rules. I think they're important. But I didn't deserve it."
"No, I believe you. But, Hermione, injustices can happen in any school. Hogwarts is no exception. Look… I've taught in Muggle schools, you know, and whatever else you might have to say about Hogwarts – and I've said a lot of it at times – this is a school where being clever is a real advantage. Where they expect you to excel. Where they expect you to do well. There's not that many schools like that out there in the Muggle world, Hermione, and maybe you would have been lucky and gone to one, but maybe you've been lucky to come here."
Hermione gave a little smile. "I don't feel that lucky at the moment. My bottom hurts. And so does my pride."
"Well, there's not a lot I can do about your bottom. The cane is meant to hurt. But maybe I can do a little bit about your pride. Why was your pride hurt?"
"Well… because it was so embarrassing. Everybody saw my bottom. And, they might have even seen more. It's so different, Professor. That never would have happened in a Muggle school."
"No, you're probably right – not in most Muggle schools anyway. But you know, Hermione, this actually points to a rather interesting little phenomenon. Yet another difference between the Muggle world and the Wizarding one."
"What's that?"
"Well, in simple terms, Wizards, historically, have been a lot less concerned about clothing than Muggles."
Hermione blinked. "What?"
"I'm serious, Hermione. When I was a student here… well… let's just say that things were a bit different. Even now – you should see the Prefect's bathroom. One great big bath to be used by any Prefect at any time, regardless of who else is in there. Or ask Harry about the Quidditch change rooms or the showers down there."
"You're joking… aren't you?"
"No, I'm not. Things have changed a bit over the last few decades. Professor Dumbledore changed most of them. He wanted to make the school more inviting to Muggles and this is one of the things that changed – it really concerned some Muggle parents. The point is, Hermione – to a lot of the people in your class, especially to those from Wizarding families, what they saw today was nothing particularly special or unusual."
"You are serious. This isn't a joke?"
"It's no joke, Hermione. Oh, Hogwarts has changed. I'm sure some of the boys got a thrill. But not as much as you fear. And… well, to be frank, with the return of the old approach to discipline, while you might have been one of the first, you certainly won't be the last. Now," Professor Burbage looked at the clock. "Classes will be changing in a moment and I need to be ready. And I'm sure you have a class to get to – although if you want, I'll write you a note so you can go to the Hospital Wing."
"I can't hide there forever."
"No. You can't. Good girl."
"Thank you, Professor. Somehow you always seem to know the right thing to say."
Hermione held her head up high in Arithmancy. And nobody there commented on what had happened during potions class. But she knew the story would spread around the school – all reports of canings and strappings were doing so at the moment and she felt she had to do her best to maintain her dignity whether people spoke to her or not.
"Professor Snape."
"Ah, Professor Burbage. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Professor Burbage closed the door of the potions classroom as soon as the last straggling fifth year had left. She walked through the room to Professor Snape's desk.
"I want to talk to you about Hermione Granger, Severus."
"I see. Let's go to my office."
When they were there, Snape sat behind his desk and Charity sat in front of it. Snape raised an eyebrow?
"Well, Charity?"
"Why did you cane Hermione Granger?"
"Straight to the point as usual, Charity."
"You have to know that she didn't deserve it."
"I said homework had to be handed in. Hers was not. I did what –"
"Oh, come on, Severus. This is Hermione Granger, we are talking about. Do you honestly believe she hadn't done her homework?"
"Of course she'd done it."
"So why did you cane her?"
"Because I said no excuses would be accepted, Charity. I made it absolutely clear to the class that if homework was not there I would cane the student whose homework was not there."
"Oh, for heaven's sake! Can't you ever show any kind of flexibility?"
"No. I can not," Snape snapped. "Why is it so hard for you to understand this, Charity? I have my duty. I have my job to do. And I can't do it properly unless… well, unless I do it the way I do it. I know Hermione Granger handed in her homework today. I'm certain of it. But it wasn't there on my desk. And I had to deal with the situation as it was, not the situation that I'd like."
"Couldn't you have ignored the fact it was missing? I mean, it had just got lost."
"Charity. It wasn't lost. Somebody took it. There was at least one student in that class who knew Hermione Granger's homework wasn't on my desk. Because they had taken it. And if I hadn't done what I did, by now everybody in the class would believed Hermione Granger was some sort of special case."
"And you can't have that."
"No, I cannot. I cannot afford to be seen as a Muggleborn sympathiser. Not for a moment. Not in a class which contains Draco Malfoy."
"Well, I'm sure nobody will ever think that. But it's a pity you have to sacrifice a student like Hermione Granger to try to impress a boy like Draco Malfoy."
"Sacrifice… Charity, if need be, I'll sacrifice anybody I need to to do my duty. But what I did to Miss Granger today – it is to her benefit as well. She's brilliant, we all know that. And if she, for one moment, feels that her brilliance is some sort of way of getting special treatment, it won't help her at all. No… I wish I hadn't had to do that today. I really do. She did not deserve it. But in the long run, it's the pain, it's the suffering, it's the unfairness, that makes us stronger."
"You can't believe that…"
"You're a good enough Legilimens to know that I do."
Charity looked at Snape with sudden compassion in her face. "Oh, Severus…"
"No. Charity. I don't want your sympathy. I don't deserve it. I hurt Miss Granger. I know I did. I wish I hadn't. But I'm not sorry. I did what I had to do. I played the hand I was dealt."
"And so she just has to suffer."
"Yes. But she's not the only one. I intend to find out who stole that homework and when I do they will suffer far more than Miss Granger."
"You gave her six of the best on her bare bottom, Severus. You can't do any more than that."
"Oh, but I can. I'm not limited to six when it comes to somebody in my own house. And I'm sure whoever did it was in Slytherin."
That night, in the fourth year boy's dormitory of Gryffindor Tower, Ron Weasley found himself unable to get to sleep. He just kept thinking of the same thing, over and over, and over again.
Hermione's backside.
Wow.
He'd seen girl's backsides before. His sister's obviously, but not just hers. Cousins. Other relatives. Even a few he wasn't related to over the years. But Hermione's was – well, it was nice. At least it had been before Snape had put those lines all over it. Although… even those…
Oh, bloody hell. He did his best, he really did, and what they'd been told last night, it was nothing new to him, his father, and his mother too, had told him all about the dangers associated with manustupration and he really really tried not to do it, but sometimes just occasionally, less than once a month… it couldn't really do any harm could it. Percy had done it far more – his mother had had to take drastic steps with Percy – and he'd wound up with an obscene number of N.E.W.T.S. Just this once, it couldn't do any harm. And if he didn't do it, he'd never get to sleep. And that wouldn't do his studies any good. Under the cover, he pulled his pyjama trousers down and took hold of himself and began to do what he knew he really shouldn't, but what he really wanted to do. He was quiet. Four other boys in the room. He was quick. And then he had the moment of pleasure, and suddenly the room was ablaze in light, and a chime sounded.
"Wassat." From his bed, Harry sat up looking very groggy. Neville, Seamus, and Dean were doing the same. "What is that bell. What is all the light?" They looked at each other in some confusion. This has never happened before. It was new.
Harry climbed out of bed. Ron was about to do the same, but realised his pyjama trousers were still down around his knees and there was also some… evidence of what he'd just been doing and, well, he couldn't just get out of bed. The other boys would see and that would be a bit embarrassing. But a moment later the door opened and he realised there were far more embarrassing possibilities than the other boys seeing what had happened. Professor McGonagall, dressed in her tartan dressing gown stepped into the room.
"Good evening, Boys." She cast her eyes around the room. "All right. Let's do this as easily as possible. Which one of you was it?"
The boys looked at each other in confusion, Ron trying to do the same.
"Honestly… I really would have expected you boys to have a little more self control. But if you can't control yourselves, I will take control. Now, who is it?"
Again, puzzled looks.
"Right. All of you. Out of bed. Line up. I don't want to have to punish all of you, but if I have to."
"Oh bloody hell." Ron spoke. "It's me, Professor."
"Out of bed, Weasley."
"Can you just turn around for a minute, Professor."
"No."
Ron reached under the covers to adjust his clothing.
"Keep your hands where I can see them and get out of bed, right now."
He decided nothing could make it worse. He pushed back the covers and shuffled out of bed. His trousers, fell around his ankles. He could see the leather strap in Professor McGonagall's hand and he resigned himself to the inevitable.
"Do I need to bend over? Can I pull my trousers up?"
"That will not be necessary, Weasley. For this particular offence, I think it's best to punish the part of the body most involved in the transgression."
"WHAT!" Ron felt himself on the verge of total panic.
"Your hands, Weasley. Hold out both your hands please. The right hand under the left. Palms up."
The strap was laid across his hand. It was drawn back and then slammed down catching his fingers, palm and the bottom of his wrist all at once. His hand went numb and was somehow incredibly painful all at the same time.
"Swap your hands."
He slowly did as he was told. And Professor McGonagall strapped him in exactly the same way.
"I think that will do this time. But if I catch anybody doing this again, I will not be as lenient. Now pull your trousers up and get to bed. And all of you get to sleep."