Author's notes: I don't own Harry Potter.

I wrote this short piece upon encountering one too many cutesy, waffy, "some adult figure gives Harry/Ron/Ginny/whoever The Talk" stories, where 'The' and 'Talk' appear in all capitals, as in The Queen and The Scrabble Crossword Game. Of course, annoyed as I was, I couldn't help but try my hand at the trope.

Warning: this story is crude, is politically incorrect, employs profane language, and objectifies women. There are moments of frank discussion about aspects of human sexual activity. If this isn't your thing, I advise you to stop reading.

Many thanks to visitors of the Darklordpotter forum's Work By Author section for comments that improved this piece.

Sirius Gives Harry 'The Talk'

By Perspicacity

Sirius makes his way to the bedroom door in his ancestral home. Harry, his godson, had arrived the night before, but aside from a meeting of the Order, they hadn't had much time to chat. The boy had had a bit of a spat with his friends, apparently, following the fiasco with the Dementors and had stormed off by himself, the doors in Sirius's ancestral home receiving a healthy banging in the process. There's nothing like a good bang.

"Harry?" he asks, rapping the door lightly with the back of his knuckle. "Mind if I come in?"

"Sure," Harry says glumly, his monotone split between indifference and teenaged depression.

The ex-convict enters and sees the boy sprawled on the bed, his clothing wrinkled; he's trying to surreptitiously stuff a photograph beneath one of the pillows.

"Let me see," he says, prying the photo from Harry's hands. Oh yes, prime blackmail material. The girl is Asian, with a delicate face and rather pale skin. Though not particularly gorgeous, she does have a pretty smile and features likely to be considered exotic for one like Harry who has spent his life closeted in the suburbs. "Jiang's kid? Didn't she marry that Chinese 'Claw, Chung or something?"

"Chang?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, that's it. Xiao Chang or something, always going on about how nobody could pronounce his name, but hell, what kind of a twat has a name that starts with an 'x'? So what's her name?"

"Cho."

"Nice," Sirius says. "Easy to pronounce and when she says it, her mouth 'o's, which is a hell of a visual on a teenage girl. Can't see much of her body in this, though I'll bet she's thin, like her mum."

Harry nods.

"Probably flexible too—ankles by her ears and all that. Jiang was something else, tightest arse in Hogwarts…" He gets a wistful look in his eye. "Speaking of tight arses, have you seen Molly's youngest lately? When she grows her tits, and if she can keep the pudge off, she'll be a hell of a bird."

Harry coughs, feeling decidedly uncomfortable at discussing his best friend's sister that way.

"Tell me you've at least noticed." Sirius's voice has taken on a scolding tone.

"Er, yeah. Hard to miss, really," Harry says, blushing. "Ginny's brilliant."

"More than brilliant, a minx and then some, though you'll have to watch if you start up with her. That mum of hers can cockblock like nobody. I'm surprised those twins ever got laid."

"Laid? Fred and George?" Harry asks in a near squeak, his astonishment suggesting that the prospect of actually being sexually active had never really sunk in.

"That's what I'm here to talk about, Harry. Has anyone ever given you The Talk?"

"The Talk? You mean about making little Harrys?"

"Fuck, who talks like that?"

"That's what Ron's father called it when he sat down with him one time at the Burrow. I got out of there fast once he started in 'plugs and sockets', putting the plug in gently, don't force it or you'll get a bent prong..."

"Plugs and sockets. Jesus Tittyfucking Christ, I'm surprised they ever reproduced. Look, Harry, I like Arthur. I like him a lot-in a manly, platonic sort of way. He's a good man, but he doesn't know jack about women. You need to realize that if the Hogwarts legends are to be believed, he and Molly were a couple since they were thirteen-year-old virgins christening the rug in front of the fireplace in the Common Room. I don't doubt his sincerity, but from the stories, I'd be surprised if Arthur knew a clitoris from a hand blender. He's only been with one woman, who was inexperienced and forgiving as all hell." He pauses a moment, working himself up for the next bit. "No, you need the real story about sex; that's what I'm here for."

"But I know about it already, mostly," Harry protests. At Sirius's disbelieving look, he says, "You, well, you take your sex and put it in her sex. And then you have sex."

Sirius gives Harry a not-so-gentle slap on the back of his head. "I don't want to ever hear you speak like that again, young man. If it got around that you were a terrible lay, I'd never live it down-and neither would you."

"I'm a little more worried about Voldemort than my reputation as a sex god," Harry says morosely.

Sirius slaps him again. "Fuck that sideways. And get over this pity thing you have going. Fine, Cedric bought it. Deal. Crying over it all summer is for emo little bitches, not manly men like us." He says to the ceiling, "What was Albus thinking, locking you in that place?"

"So what do I need to know?" Harry asks, fighting through his feelings to take advantage of the rare chance to learn something practical on this matter from someone who knows what he's about.

"A lot. First off, don't skip the foreplay. Learn all of the seventeen primary and twenty four secondary erogenous zones or you're no godson of mine. I'll get you a diagram-I think Reggie still has one in his room somewhere. Nothing will have her giving you that well earned hummer like playing her body like a pro."

"Right. Erogenous zones," Harry says, committing the sage words to memory.

"And you're going to have to find yourself a wingman, someone not named Ron. Guy has serious jealousy issues and I wouldn't be surprised if he's inherited his cockblocking from his mum. No, get someone in your corner for real, someone willing to chat up the fat bird while you put the moves on her hot friend. Back then, we had Peter for that. Though he was a motherfucking betrayer and I'd love to shove his dinky little dongle in one of Arthur's power tools, he was the best damned wingman ever. No standards at all. Hell, he'd hit anything with a pulse-or without, if you count those times we hit the Vamp bar in Knockturn… Anyway, give it some thought."

"Right. Maybe Neville?"

Sirius shrugs. "Whatever works. So, what all have you done? Gone down on a girl? Felt her tits? Anal?"

"No," Harry says defensively.

"Tell me you've at least snogged someone."

Harry shakes his head.

"And you're how old again? Pecker anxiety?"

"I'm just waiting for the right girl, I guess," Harry says meekly.

Sirius motions to slap Harry again on the head, but the boy ducks beneath his hand at the last moment. "Harry, if you take anything away from this discussion, make it this: You don't want your first time to be with someone you care about."

"Why not? Shouldn't it be with someone special?"

"Hell no! It's like when you learned to fly. You didn't go out and jump on a Firebolt the first time you got on a broom. You wouldn't have known what to do and you'd have just embarrassed yourself. No, you went for an older, broken-in model for your first ride, one that's forgiving and can help you out, that won't judge you by your mistakes. Same with your first time in the saddle. Find yourself some slag who's experienced and suitably emotionally detached. Let her teach you how to fly, how to handle her ride."

"I think you've about driven that metaphor into the ground."

Sirius's laugh sounds a little like a bark. "Point for you."

"I just hope I don't crash my first time."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm quite positive your first time will suck utterly and completely—for her, that is. For you it'll be the most glorious twenty seconds of your life."

"That's it?"

"If you're lucky. Half a minute if you manage to do it with a bit of Firewhiskey in you. But doing it drunk your first time isn't so great, since you'll want to remember it, every embarrassing, inglorious, fumbling, sticky moment. A little alcohol will help make things last a little longer, but too much and you won't have enough control to do your duty, which is to get her off afterward since it sure as hell won't happen in the act. Go with fingers, not your tongue, since you won't know what to do down there at first. Two is good. Three is too much. One's strictly for virgins. Let her show you how to do what you need to do."

"Right, two fingers and let her drive," Harry says, coughing.

"And watch out for kissing. Only with a closed mouth the morning after, until you both do a freshing spell-you don't want to taste last night's spunk, even if it's yours. Actually, kissing is complicated in general. I recommend you don't bother unless she's someone you care about."

"Why's that?"

"Too intimate. Gives the bird unrealistic expectations. Remember, Harry: one night stands only until you have enough experience 'under your belt' to start up with someone you care about."

"But what's wrong with intimacy?"

"Nothing at all, once you're ready to settle down, which you aren't. Look, learn the classic lines and be able to improvise at a moment's notice: 'It's not you, honey, it's me. Now just isn't the right time. We had some great times, but it's just not what I'm looking for right now. Let's be friends.'"

"That sounds incredibly cynical."

Sirius shrugs. "Beats having a bird whose name you don't remember bawling her eyes out and banging on your door at three am. Or having to go with said bird to run a paternity test because you were so sureshe did the contraceptive charms, which is something else you never leave to trust—especially once you start getting intimate. Sex isn't intimacy, Harry. Feelings are intimacy."

"Oh."

"Heavy stuff, eh?" the older man asks with a nasty grin.

Harry nods.

"Now I know I said before that your first time should be with a slag, but this is important: you have to be careful messing around with prostitutes. Disease isn't so much a problem in the magical world like it is for Muggles, but most of the ones you're likely to run into as a teenager have a pimp, so if you let your guard down, you run the risk of getting rolled. Never go with her when she says she has a place to do the deed because she's setting you up. Instead, take her to someplace you control. Have your wingman help. And remember, when it comes to whores, blowjobs beat sex—cheaper, less risk, and you can keep your wand out the whole time."

Harry nods.

"Let's see, what have I missed? Oh yeah, threesomes. They sound better than they are and no matter what, they leave you with twice the hassle in the morning. By all means, have one once, just so you can tick the box, but don't put much hope in its matching your fantasies. More likely than not, after they get you off in that first few minutes, you'll just end up in the way anyway."

Sirius affects a strange look. "And never do one with more than one bloke. It's weird."

There's a knock at the door, startling both of them.

"Harry? Are you in there?"

"Um, yeah, Mrs. Weasley," Harry says, feeling incredibly awkward.

"Is Sirius in there with you?" the woman asks through the door. "He said he was to speak with you about something important."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Yeah, Molly, I'm in here. We're just finishing up, right Harry?"

"Er, yeah," he says.

"Well, it's nearly time for dinner and we have a meeting of the you know what afterward."

"We'll be right down." Sirius turns back to Harry. "Got all that? Remember, if you ever need advice, you know where I am."

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks, Sirius."

Sirius tousles Harry's hair. "Anytime. Next year, I expect you to regale me with stories of debauchery and mayhem. Make me proud, son."

To be continued?