The end of the lesson crept up on Severus. He had spent nearly two hours
reading the book and thinking about Miss Granger but he was no closer to
finding a solution. The children filed past him dutifully, handing in their
scrolls. His attention abruptly focussed on Miss Saker's desk. She had the
latest copy of Witches' Weekly half falling out of her satchel. There, in
bright pink letters, the words 'What Every Witch Wants in a Man' was
emblazoned.
That was what he wanted: an insight into the mind of a woman. Although it was odd, that information that was so obviously useful to the male of the species should be found hidden away in a Witches' magazine. Mind you, he had long suspected that there was some feminine conspiracy on hand to keep these things a secret. Why else would a simple request for information as to what was wrong with a female would be met with the words most likely the frighten the average Wizard: "Well, if you don't know I'm not going to tell you!" The Wizard then being expected to embark on a combination of a guessing game and confession of sins plucked out of the air entirely at random. Surely, the simple solution would be to simply state what was wrong in a calm and sensible manner, and then accept the proffered apology in the spirit it was made?
Well, now the conspiracy would be broken. He confiscated the magazine immediately on the grounds that she had been reading it in class. From the lack of outrage that greeted his appropriation of the item, he rather suspected that this was true. He made a mental note to keep a better eye on Miss Saker in class in future.
He was grateful not to be caught carrying the magazine back to his rooms. He had a few hours before dinner, and he intended to spend them profitably. He settled at his desk and embarked on the task of understanding the female psyche.
In methodical fashion he had taken notes - according to the magazine flowers were good, chocolates were good, compliments were good. He read descriptions of the dark brooding hero in the novel, and had spent several minutes in front of the mirror considering whether he brooded. He had decided wryly, that in poor light and with a charitable viewer brooding was just about achievable. Overall, it was probably fortunate that candlelit dinners were considered romantic.
Severus felt confident that he could achieve romance, there seemed to be an identifiable formula, and that was that. But when it came to sex, he felt almost completely at a loss. The novel was graphic in its descriptions, but based on his admittedly limited experience he didn't think it was very realistic.
He stuck out his tongue.
He was aware that some men were concerned about the size of their equipment, but usually their anxiety focussed on the trouser department. Judging from this book, they should rather be worrying whether they could touch the tip of their nose with their tongue. He could; but whether this was because he was particularly well-endowed in the nose or tongue department he couldn't tell. Nor could he work out a way of dropping this fact subtly into the conversation, nor, indeed, how to demonstrate the fact. He would get some very strange looks if he tried licking his nose at the breakfast table. Such demonstrations were necessary it appeared, as men were, again according to the magazine, notorious for exaggerating their equipment, abilities, and the size of their bank vaults.
He was fairly certain that if he tried any of the seduction techniques employed in the book that he would be sporting a black eye at the very least. Only a fool would try pinning a woman armed with a wand up against a wall and forcing their tongue down her throat. Why exactly was that considered attractive anyway? It was hardly subtle, or indeed comfortable. Even assuming that the young lady was receptive to that sort of approach, which he doubted, how then was the transfer to private chambers and thence to bed to be managed without any awkwardness?
He felt a faint surge of resentment, why was it always the man who had to take the lead? Why couldn't he just lie back and let her do the hard work? He just hoped she would be gentle with him.
He was idly flicking over the pages of the magazine, when his attention was suddenly caught by an article: "The Rules, or How to Attract the Wizard of your Dreams." He read on with interest; so, there were rules after all. How typically devious to find that one half of the human race were conducting their lives in accordance with a set of rules, but not allowing the other half - the poor, confused bastards - in on the secret. He had often thought that all women should be sorted into Slytherin. Thank god they weren't! They were hard enough to deal with as it stood; they hardly needed to have their skills honed through seven years in the Snake's den.
He snorted and began to read.
After a few minutes, he realised that the theory behind the Rules was quite simple: keep the object of your affections guessing. All that obfuscation and mystery was deliberate, as he had always suspected.
It seemed to him that whilst the article was aimed exclusively at women, its application could be much broader. These Rules were designed to make sure that a pursuer didn't lose interest half way through the chase and find another, easier target. Contrary to the usual order of things, Miss Granger was the pursuer; he was the pursued. They could equally well be used by him to tease and encourage Miss Granger, before finally allowing her to bring him to bay, as it were.
He didn't expect flowers, though chocolates would be nice, as would compliments. He indulged in a little fantasy of Miss Granger complimenting him on the cut of his robes, or the masterly way he conducted classes or wielded a pestle, before presenting him with a gift-wrapped box of Honeyduke's finest. And then, and then, and then ...
Severus felt much more confident now: he had a plan.
That was what he wanted: an insight into the mind of a woman. Although it was odd, that information that was so obviously useful to the male of the species should be found hidden away in a Witches' magazine. Mind you, he had long suspected that there was some feminine conspiracy on hand to keep these things a secret. Why else would a simple request for information as to what was wrong with a female would be met with the words most likely the frighten the average Wizard: "Well, if you don't know I'm not going to tell you!" The Wizard then being expected to embark on a combination of a guessing game and confession of sins plucked out of the air entirely at random. Surely, the simple solution would be to simply state what was wrong in a calm and sensible manner, and then accept the proffered apology in the spirit it was made?
Well, now the conspiracy would be broken. He confiscated the magazine immediately on the grounds that she had been reading it in class. From the lack of outrage that greeted his appropriation of the item, he rather suspected that this was true. He made a mental note to keep a better eye on Miss Saker in class in future.
He was grateful not to be caught carrying the magazine back to his rooms. He had a few hours before dinner, and he intended to spend them profitably. He settled at his desk and embarked on the task of understanding the female psyche.
In methodical fashion he had taken notes - according to the magazine flowers were good, chocolates were good, compliments were good. He read descriptions of the dark brooding hero in the novel, and had spent several minutes in front of the mirror considering whether he brooded. He had decided wryly, that in poor light and with a charitable viewer brooding was just about achievable. Overall, it was probably fortunate that candlelit dinners were considered romantic.
Severus felt confident that he could achieve romance, there seemed to be an identifiable formula, and that was that. But when it came to sex, he felt almost completely at a loss. The novel was graphic in its descriptions, but based on his admittedly limited experience he didn't think it was very realistic.
He stuck out his tongue.
He was aware that some men were concerned about the size of their equipment, but usually their anxiety focussed on the trouser department. Judging from this book, they should rather be worrying whether they could touch the tip of their nose with their tongue. He could; but whether this was because he was particularly well-endowed in the nose or tongue department he couldn't tell. Nor could he work out a way of dropping this fact subtly into the conversation, nor, indeed, how to demonstrate the fact. He would get some very strange looks if he tried licking his nose at the breakfast table. Such demonstrations were necessary it appeared, as men were, again according to the magazine, notorious for exaggerating their equipment, abilities, and the size of their bank vaults.
He was fairly certain that if he tried any of the seduction techniques employed in the book that he would be sporting a black eye at the very least. Only a fool would try pinning a woman armed with a wand up against a wall and forcing their tongue down her throat. Why exactly was that considered attractive anyway? It was hardly subtle, or indeed comfortable. Even assuming that the young lady was receptive to that sort of approach, which he doubted, how then was the transfer to private chambers and thence to bed to be managed without any awkwardness?
He felt a faint surge of resentment, why was it always the man who had to take the lead? Why couldn't he just lie back and let her do the hard work? He just hoped she would be gentle with him.
He was idly flicking over the pages of the magazine, when his attention was suddenly caught by an article: "The Rules, or How to Attract the Wizard of your Dreams." He read on with interest; so, there were rules after all. How typically devious to find that one half of the human race were conducting their lives in accordance with a set of rules, but not allowing the other half - the poor, confused bastards - in on the secret. He had often thought that all women should be sorted into Slytherin. Thank god they weren't! They were hard enough to deal with as it stood; they hardly needed to have their skills honed through seven years in the Snake's den.
He snorted and began to read.
After a few minutes, he realised that the theory behind the Rules was quite simple: keep the object of your affections guessing. All that obfuscation and mystery was deliberate, as he had always suspected.
It seemed to him that whilst the article was aimed exclusively at women, its application could be much broader. These Rules were designed to make sure that a pursuer didn't lose interest half way through the chase and find another, easier target. Contrary to the usual order of things, Miss Granger was the pursuer; he was the pursued. They could equally well be used by him to tease and encourage Miss Granger, before finally allowing her to bring him to bay, as it were.
He didn't expect flowers, though chocolates would be nice, as would compliments. He indulged in a little fantasy of Miss Granger complimenting him on the cut of his robes, or the masterly way he conducted classes or wielded a pestle, before presenting him with a gift-wrapped box of Honeyduke's finest. And then, and then, and then ...
Severus felt much more confident now: he had a plan.
