Chapter 2:

Girl Problems

Edited/Proofread by Demon Ging

After a brief period of shock from everybody in a square mile radius, McGonagall attempted to rush him to Madam Pomfrey for a check up. Even his head of house seemed hesitant to speak to or especially touch him.

She didn't press the matter when he refused her with a glare.

He was pissed.

He wasn't angry for any logical reason, but for purely medical ones. It was only with righteous rage that he managed to keep the bile down at his disgust. He had killed a dragon, and it felt awful. Okay he was a little angry at the professors, especially Moody, who were suddenly re-evaluating him and, in the case of the ex Auror, seemed to be making a threat assessment of the youngest champion.

Actually his reaction made the most sense. Harry secretly appreciated the grizzled bastard's consistency.

It wasn't until the handlers carted off the dragon and declared it well and truly dead that the judges announced his scores.

All tens. Harry may well have just won the tournament.

Some of the less sociable students had started filing out as soon as he touched the egg, either content that they already knew his final score - it wasn't a Sherlock Holmesian leap in logic to suspect he'd won - or to avoid the crowd currently flooding from the stands. He groaned as he made to follow, not at all eager to deal with the back patting, congratulatory pablum and assurances of a fictional past belief in him or his honesty.

Charlie was there to stop him.

"Hey um. Bagman wants a word with the school champions." He said in an overly polite manner.

The second eldest Weasley had always been so likable, aside from his snoring, and the sudden Percy-esque shift put him into a tizzy for a whole five seconds as he tried to understand the sudden shift. Oh right. He and the other dragon handlers probably weren't happy with him. It would come as a massive blow to most of them, both personally and professionally, to have lost one of their wards.

Harry hadn't thought of that.

Oh god! Hagrid!

"Seeing as I'm not a school champion, you can tell him I politely declined." Harry said, imitating Charlie's mannerisms. "Or that he can sod off. I don't care."

He took his egg and left, eager to be alone and insult himself for being so stupid.

The sea of students and outside spectators just beyond the enclosure and forming intermittent crowds all the way up to the castle doors parted as if he were the wrath of God as he passed. His anger momentarily subsided as he felt, for the first time ever in the aftermath of a life and death situation, like a complete badass. He tried to fight the feeling back, but failed miserably.

It made sense that people deferred to men capable of single-handedly slaying dragons and basilisks and whatnot, but how long would this last? He didn't get this kind of treatment after dealing with the dementors last year, a similarly incredible feat. Then again, people only heard about that in rumors, as with previous years. The whole world had witnessed his latest one.

He found himself hoping it would last forever. This berth of space, this hesitance to approach him or get in his way, was so incalculably preferable to the usual fawning and hero worship that had been a constant in his life ever since he entered the Leaky Cauldron on that fateful day. It sounded terrible in his head to think it, but he really did prefer fear to idolatry.

It felt like an eternity ago.

He was soon stomping through the corridors of Hogwarts, ducking beneath banister and pushing aside faux walls in an attempt to make a beeline to Gryffindor tower and his four poster bed. Sweet oblivion awaited him and he didn't want to keep her waiting.

It was while traversing one of the dustier and less oft-used secret passages that he finally let his guard down. He was in a small hallway filled with broom closets and store-rooms on either side. Despite being only a few strides long and having no incline it somehow connected the fourth and seventh floors. This was one of the best shortcuts to his common room. He was practically home and the stress of the day was beginning to fade.

That was when a pair of unseen hands grabbed him around his chest and yanked Harry into one of the closets.

Harry flinched exactly five times. Once from being grabbed unexpectedly, again at the sudden feeling of soft lips pressed against his own, a third time when he saw the oriental beauty those lips belonged to, a fourth time when he realized it wasn't Cho like he initially thought(and hoped), and a fifth time when Sue went from lightly kissing him to practically eating his face.

It was as she started removing his clothes when he froze completely, unable to flinch back any further as his entire back was pressed against the stone wall.

Sex was... not at all how he imagined.

For one thing he expected it to be noisier, but no sound besides her hot breath on his face left her slightly parted mouth as she dug her nails into his scalp and locked eyes with him. For another he expected it to feel good, and at some points during the encounter it had, but the initial contact when she managed to push aside - but not completely remove - the offending fabric that had valiantly tried to block their attempts had hurt like hell.

Simply put, it wouldn't go in. So she forced it, and he feared she'd break it in half in his frozen state. What was even more painful was how she moved her hips after he was fully inside of her. He could practically hear whatever cartilage or what-have-you at the base of his member grinding against whatever it was connected to in the groin. Now that hurt.(A/N - 1)

He was too terrified to run his hands along her body like every instinct in his body was telling him to do. She was still fully clothed from the waist up, and mostly clothed from the waist down, and he didn't dare risk offending the young witch currently riding him as if he were a rampaging bull by touching her in a way she didn't approve of.

Despite all of these hesitancies there was something enjoyable, something wholly wonderful in being looked at with such hungry eyes. There was something deeply primal behind those dark orbs that called out to him, that stirred something similar inside of him, but by the time she gasped as her entire body shuddered against his, he realized he had waited too long to give into that feeling.

She kept her face buried into the crook of his neck, holding him so tightly that he imaginedhe could hear his ribs cracking.A few moments later, after the shudders had stopped, she was gone.

She just pulled her panties up, pulled her skirt back down, smoothed out her clothes and left him there to stare at the ceiling in wide-eyed confusion.

He didn't know how long he lay there with most of his shame exposed, but thankfully unseen in the dark, dirty and claustrophobic room. Long enough for his mental faculties to return.

Sex smelled odd. That was his first conclusion. Not bad. Just odd, and definitely pungent. That part at least he liked, especially with the smell of her rose-scented perfume and pineapple lip balm lingering on him. Then there was whatever her shampoo was.

Still in a daze, he fixed his clothes, absently pocketing the black pantyhose she had left behind.

The next week was one of his worst at Hogwarts to date. Or ever really.

He didn't get a wink of sleep that first night, kept awake by a mixture of terror and strange contentment. The entire ordeal had come as a shock and smacked faintly of rape. Despite these conflicting feelings he was still entranced by the smell he carried with him and fantasies about doing it better next time kept him awake with frustration.

Was there going to be a next time? It had been so sudden and unexpected. She'd left without saying a word and he couldn't even tell if she was enjoying it at the time. Hell, he couldn't tell if he had enjoyed it.

The next morning he reluctantly made his way to the showers to wash the evidence of the event away, knowing he'd miss her smells. He was shocked to discover a smidgen of blood on his sore and raw appendage.

Was it his? Was it hers? Was this normal?

He couldn't find any injury in the area so he assumed it must have come out of one of them, which was a scary thought. Scarier if it was his, to be sure, as there was a very obvious explanation if it was hers. He somehow doubted any girl, even one as terrifying as Sue, would have done THAT to him while leaking the liquified lining of her uterus.

A visit to the library solved his mystery but did not assuage his growing trepidation.

It was called a hymen. All girls have them, and they usually breaks during intercourse and sometimes bleed slightly.

That part he understood, what he didn't was the book's insistence that it was supposedly painful and that young ladies should be treated gently; the act taken slowly. Bullshit! This particular young lady had powered right through the pain and treated HIM about as gently as a nonconformist nail in need of depth readjustment.

He supposed it varied by the girl, just like the size of certain features on both guys and girls varied, so maybe it hurt less or not at all for some virgins? More likely she just didn't care about the pain. Or she might have—he blanched at the thought—enjoyed the pain.

Then the book reminded him that pregnancy was a thing. That did wonders for his mental health. He was plagued by nightmares of their prospective child for the rest of the week and kept waking up in a cold sweat. In one of these dreams, he personally introduced a pregnant Sue to the Dursleys and asked them if she could move in. She did. That one was the worst.

He tried to remember if he had managed to, what the book called, ejaculate but he just wasn't sure.

Then there were the other girls. Just...all of them.

Sure he noticed them before, looked at them the way boys do on occasion, but not to this extent. They were all so much more lithe than he remembered, and their movements seemed so much more sensual. What's worse, he discovered that some of them were looking at him the same way, and that scared him far beyond any reasonable degree.

They hadn't done that before, had they? He liked to think that he was perceptive enough to recognize such obvious interest in the faces and in the body language of women.(A/N - 2)

He was thankful for his and Ron's rekindled friendship. The taller boy fast became his unwitting body shield, and mas an even far superior cock block than Harry hoped. His manners and choice of conversation topics repelled the fairer sex better than if they'd both been covered in Flobberworm mucus. So did Harry's own shyness, now that he reflected on it.

He even had difficulty being around Hermione! Those things were definitely not on her chest the day before, of that he was certain.

He learned through a late-night trip to the restricted section that he was developing what was called Gynophobia. He had seen the book Phobias and Philias of the Worst Kind listed in the library index and just had to retrieve his father's old cloak.

Unfortunately, that particular novel was in the restricted section for a very good reason. It was a torture manual and discussed spells that created vivid illusions and techniques for finding or instilling phobias in a victim, usually by simulating a sexual experience.

Traumatic sexual experiences are the most likely to instill a deep-seated fear or emotional distress in a subject.

You don't say!

The moving illustrations depicting methods for instilling permanent terror towards insects or glass looked like something out of a Lovecraftian Cenobite's wet dream. He had a full arsenal of new nightmare material after that.

By the time the Yule Ball was announced that Thursday it was all Harry could do not to walk down the school halls banging his head with a mallet while making his best Woody the Woodpecker impression at the top of his lungs.

It got to the point that Sue eventually walked past him after charms and reprimanded him in her most acerbic tone.

"You're being ridiculous, Potter."

This confused him more than anything else. He couldn't imagine walking up to somebody who had a less than thrilling sexual encounter and telling them "Get over it, you pussy!" which is what her comment essentially amounted to.

He wondered if that's how things were done in the wizarding world. It was surely better treatment than he'd receive in the Muggle world, where fourteen year-old boys were regularly forced to pay child support to the teachers who raped them.

He looked into it.

The wizarding world seemed simultaneously more appalled by sex-based crimes, and more reasonable in the pursuit of justice on their behalf. The hard stance on love potions and the imperius curse were both good examples of this. The fact that there was no Jimmy Saville equivalent in wizarding Britain or the coverup that came with his crimes was an even better one. Hell, magic newspapers even covered the horrors of the grooming gangs in Rotherham and surrounding areas. He'd even seen an article in there boggling at how the Muggle legal system made a distinction between "forced penetration" and "made to penetrate" and didn't consider the latter rape. (A/ N - 3)

Harry refused to believe this could be true. Such a fact would make even him sympathize with Voldemort's cause - if only a little. He confirmed it in Hermione's copy of The Case for Muggle Madness and had to put it down after that. Why she still kept a copy of one of her old Muggle Studies textbooks was beyond him. The chapter on Muggle crime statistics was practically a university course in and of itself.

Sue was right though. He was being ridiculous. He knew this, but couldn't resolve the issue on his own.

So he visited Pomfrey.

Oddly she and McGonagall didn't register as Gyno to his Phobia. Age maybe? Comfort in their presence? He was less terrified of Gryffindor's bushy-haired brainiac than the others in his age group after all.

To say she was surprised to see him visit her of his own volition would be as profound an understatement as referring to Snape as an unhappy and unapproachable person. That he was so easily able to lie his ass off to the old witch without once lying surprised him even more than that.

"I just can't get any sleep. I've been having nightmares from what happened after I killed the dragon." He had told her. "I just feel so guilty about it. I'm terrified of the way other people are looking at me. Then there's the pressure from this tournament. And now the ball!"

She melted like putty in his hands. She really was a softy at heart despite her imposing and waspish demeanor. If he was so inclined he could really abuse her hospitality and compassion.

He didn't know why he didn't tell the mediwitch what really happened. Maybe he was scared of Sue? Maybe he was worried he'd get her in trouble?

Deep down he knew it hadn't been rape. He had the power to say no, to refuse her and defend himself. Yet he didn't. It was as much his fault as it was hers. Logically, he knew that. His heart was just being an asshole to him about the whole thing is all.

The calming draught Pomfrey gave him, with instructions to take a spoonful with every meal, did him wonders. He was finally able to think about things rationally and he tried to figure out why the event had troubled him so.

It was probably just how alien having physical affection of any kind with the opposite sex was to him, or with people in general really. He was remiss to hug even his best friends, let alone kiss someone who was all but a stranger until the day before. And they did a whole lot more than kissing.

He thanked whatever power kept alcohol and narcotics out of Hogwarts so effectively.

Sex was a terrifying and confusing thing all by itself. He was finally starting to understand the host of social norms and expectations foisted upon young men and women. Though initially appearing unfair to both sexes - though in very different ways - he suspected they were all implemented as a matter of utility and safety.

He couldn't imagine how much legal and emotional terror could be wrought if other teenagers had gone through the confusing trial he had with alcohol involved. There would be an epidemic of false, though not necessarily malevolent, rape accusations being thrown around. Especially with how less level-headed the average teenager was than him. It would have absolutely destroyed the lives of so many youths, and possibly even the school proper.

He shuddered to think how the situation would pan out in the Muggle world, where most schools were run by public workers. His memory of primary school told him they were just as idiotic as the public workers running this tournament, but with more ideological hang-ups.

He decided then and there that the Hogwarts zero-tolerance policy on sexual contact of any kind was not only reasonable but a very, very, VERY good idea.

He still intended to break it again as soon as possible, to be sure, but he could at least respect the policy.

Still. Would it have killed her to have stayed cuddled a bit afterward?

"The hate mail just keeps coming, doesn't it?" Ron said between mouthfuls.

He was getting better at chewing and swallowing before talking.

"Yeah," was all Harry could say as he mentally tallied the number of owls paying him a visit this morning.

Ever since the first task, his meals had been marred by letters from magical beast lovers and caretakers the world over. He simply couldn't imagine what he'd done to offend them all.

"Charlie's been trying to run interference but his coworkers aren't a happy bunch," Ron explained apologetically. "He wanted to write you an apology letter on their behalf but I convinced him not to."

His reasoning for talking Charlie down went unsaid. Harry could only nod his thanks. He probably would have responded poorly to Charlie's letter. Or more likely not read it at all, assuming it was filled with nothing but ice and venom before filing it away with the others. Like Hermione was doing right now.

"A lot of repeat senders today," She told him as she compared the names and addresses on the new envelopes with those on the long piece of parchment in her hands. "But no nasty powders or liquids for a change."

That was a relief. He added them to a paper file organizer Ginny had made for him when he asked if she had one, intent on checking them later for the occasional letter of support or admiration. He used to dislike it, but proper fanmail had been a great help during his recent near mental breakdown. He had considered bringing the more nasty letters to Pomfrey to ebb her into giving him the calming draught, but that turned out to be unnecessary.

"Now! Onto what's important." Hermione said as she put away her list and got back to eating. "How are your essays coming along?"

He'd fallen behind on his homework in his battle to get his head straight. Trelawney's dream interpretation was easy to fake, and the transfiguration essay was marginally taxing. Honestly, without the support from his friends he'd be in a rather hopeless position. Between Hermione covering the hate mail and Ron helping him yuck up the dream journal, he'd had plenty of time to finish the transformation and potion essays.

The real surprise came in the form of the otherwise mythical Care of Magical Creatures assignment. Harry was right to worry about Hagrid. The loveable giant had assigned them the task of coming up with and explaining five methods for defeating a dragon with four spells or less. One on one.

That requirement on its own was preposterous, but the added restriction that the hypothetical battle must take place in exactly the same arena where the champions faced their dragons in the first task made it impossible. And they weren't allowed to use Harry's method as a freebie.

Hagrid had even taken points from students for the first time that week. Admittedly they had run away from class and hidden in his cabin out of fear for the Skrewts, so they kind of deserved it. He also gave points to those who stayed. Seeing that most of the cowards had been Slytherin, the points tallied up nicely in Gryffindor's favor.

"Bollocks with your priorities, woman!" Ron told her. "Tell us what's really important. Who are you going to the ball with?"

Harry thought both of their priorities needed some reconfiguration. Death threats from burly men who regularly walked to the bar covered in fourth-degree burns from work seemed rather more pressing than homework or a silly dance. Of course, that was just his opinion.

"I don't know," Harry told them honestly.

"Well, you better figure it out soon, before the more desperate girls resort to love potions," Hermione warned him.

Hermione was a perceptive girl. He suspected she had noticed his recent aversion to the lusty gazes of their less discreet classmates and intended to scare him into action. If only she knew exactly how horrifying what she just said truly was to him. It was about time for his spoon of calming draught, wasn't it?

"Yeah. I probably should find out what her name is." He said offhandedly before he knocked back the dark, minty liquid.

"You're going to ask a girl to the ball and don't even know her name?" Ron asked in a voice as disbelieving as Hermione's gaping mouth.

"No. I'm already going to the ball with a girl and I don't know her name."

He had received many looks from his bucktoothed friend over the years when words failed to convey how stupid he was. This one took the cake.

"What?!" She demanded.

He shrugged guiltily.

"She asked and I said yes."

Her look didn't subside.

"Why?"

Harry meant to say, 'Because she was bigger and older than me and I was terrified she'd bisect me with a log-splitting curse if I said no,' But somehow it came out as, "Because she asked. I was surprised."

Ron picked up the completely wrong meaning from that.

"Yeah. We're supposed to be the house of courage aren't we?" He told Hermione. "Any girl brave enough to walk up to a man and ask HIM to the ball is exactly the brand of brave we like In a girl."

Harry decided he distinctly liked that cover story. He'd go along. Unfortunately, theirs was not a private conversation.

"Ron. Go to the ball with me?"

The voice belonged to one Lavender Brown. Harry hadn't exactly recognized it at first. Her question had come out rather high-pitched. He'd never seen such a look of fear on the girl's face.

The look on Ron's face at the sudden chance to prove his words were more than just words, on the other hand, was priceless. He nodded dumbly.

Lavender squealed and left the table. She walked calmly, if rather stiffly, at first before breaking into a sprint to the Ravenclaw table where Parvati had invaded to sit with her sister.

Hermione ignored Ron's shock and Harry's amusement with the turn of events and turned back to chastising him.

"But that doesn't excuse you for not knowing her name!" She said, taking the effort to whisper in order to avoid another incident.

"Did you see how Ron reacted to being asked?" He replied in a similar whisper.

She nodded.

"And how Lav responded to being told yes?"

She nodded again.

"It was like that. I nodded like an idiot and she ran off before I could gain my bearings and ask her name. Excuse me."

He paused to help Ron catch his bearings by taking up his friend's fork and guiding the piece of ham at the end of it into his friend's still gaping mouth. He returned to the moment, took his fork and went back to eating.

Food. Food is the cure to everything that ails the redheaded boy. When in doubt, give him food.

"Well! Can you at least point her out?" Hermione coaxed as Harry started to refill his plate.

That was a good question. He looked around the hall looking for her long, curly black hair. There were a lot of black haired-girls among the Ravenclaws and brunettes among the Hufflepuffs. Odd. Redheads were over-represented in Gryffindor and Blondes in Slytherin. He never noticed that before.

"What year was she?" Ron asked helpfully.

"She looked like a fifth year. A foot taller than I am. Long black wavy hair. Tan skin. Amber eyes. Athletic build." He listed off her features.

"She wasn't one of the team hotties? Owe!" Ron asked before being kicked under the table by Hermione.

"No. I would have recognized her. She looked like one hell of an athlete. You don't get a body like that without using it for a purpose, so I was surprised when I got a close look at her."

"Well it better be a Gryffindor," Ron told them. "If it's not I'll NEVER let our girls live it down. To be out-braved by another house. For shame."

Hermione snapped her fingers to get their attention and pointed behind them to the Slytherin table. Sure enough, there she was. She sat, surrounded on all sides by seventh years, at the head of the table. They were deep in a study session, so either she was a seventh year herself or she'd skipped a few grades. Were they allowed to do that?

"That's her." He said nonchalantly before turning back to his food.

"A Slytherin!" Ron said in surprise, before settling into a bemused grin. "Oh this is too good. We have to keep this under wraps."

"Why?" Harry couldn't help but wonder aloud, despite his gratitude that Ron hadn't gone into a rant about why he shouldn't dance with one of the snakes.

"Are you kidding? The look on people's faces is going to priceless when you walk out on the dance floor with the only Slytherin girl who doesn't make people's eyes bleed, and owe! Quit it, Hermione!"

The glare Harry gave Hermione put an end to her kicking but also earned him a glare in return.

"And if we let the rumor mill find out it'll ruin the surprise," Ron finished. "And we should probably keep it secret to keep her safe from the Gryff ditzes and you safe from the Slytherin idiots.

Harry had to tip his glass in appreciation of Ron's insight, and he mockingly bowed at the praise.

He already felt guilty enough about going to the ball with someone other than Sue. After all, she had made a rather explicit confession of her feelings for him. He tried to rationalize it away by the fact that he wasn't dating this Slytherin girl. He was just going to the dance with her. It didn't mean anything.

There was a Hogsmeade weekend coming up. Maybe he could get a proper date with the pale girl? Do things the proper way, but in reverse.

"I can't tell if you two are pretending and trying to upset me or if you're serious," Hermione said, breaking him out of his reverie.

"Huh?" Ron said.

It was close enough to Harry's response that he didn't feel the need to add to it.

"That girl! Do you really not recognize her?"

The duo turned around to look at the seventh years again before turning back to Hermione.

"Nope," Harry said.

"Why? Should we?" Ron asked.

Hermione could only glower at them.

"That's Arriane Cauderdale!" She hissed as if it were a revelation.(A/N - 4)

At their identical shrugs, she elaborated.

"The head girl!"

"Ooooooh!" They gasped in stereo.

Harry shared a glance with his best friend.

"Never heard of her. What about you?" Harry asked.

"Not a once," Ron answered.

"You CANNOT be serious!" Hermione growled.

The ignorant duo shrugged again.

"I never really cared who was head boy or girl," Harry explained. "The only ones I ever knew of were Percy and Tom Riddle. The former because he never shut up about it. I don't even know who the head boy is this year."

"It's Cedric!" She hissed.

"Really! I never would have known." Harry said.

"Probably could have guessed it though," Ron added.

"You two are unbelievable!"

And with that, she stormed away. It was all well and good because Harry really needed to get to the library and work on Hagrid's essay anyways. He didn't have time to explain all of the ways the titles of head boy and girl didn't matter in the slightest. At all. To any degree in any area of life. Ever.

The massive oak doors to the library had become an omen of horror in recent days, at least to Harry. He'd been trying to avoid it, but with his essay due in two days he really needed to get through them.

He was saved from the ordeal of opening the door himself when a group of Hufflepuff fifth years exited. He slipped in before the door closed, feeling silly about his attempt at guile. Though the last time he'd been in here guile was very much warranted, today it was less so, but still necessary.

He had another target to take on before wandering the aisles aimlessly in search of five new methods for slaying giant fire-breathing lizards. His target was right next to the door on the table of encyclopedias near Madam Pince's desk.

Few students outside of OWL and NEWT years opened any of them. It was impossible to get on the reserve list for any of the massive tomes with two other years worth of students practically having a war over the privilege. To be fair, their need was greater than anyone else's.

Fortunately, there was one book that was never on the reserve list, because nobody ever wanted to read it. That was the book he needed now.

The Book of Rules.

Every Hogwarts rule, regulation, punishment, mediation, policy and process is listed in mind-numbing detail within its pages. You want to know what the punishment is for stealing? It'll tell you. With a sliding scale based on the value of what you stole.

The thing was covered in dust. Made sense. Students only ever used it when they really fucked up, though interestingly not when trying to argue against an unfair punishment. It just wasn't worth the effort. Usually, teacher-assigned punishments were comparatively lenient.

There was a wooden booth near the table of encyclopedias set aside for students who needed to check this very book. It was loaded with so many privacy spells it practically made you tingle to walk past it.

Madame Prince made a show of covering her eyes when Harry lifted the book from next to her, which could have been made of lead based on its weight. She valued student' trust in her ability to keep their problems private. Everyone knew she kept student secrets, for better or worse. It was part of her oath, as binding as Pomfrey's.

He never could get a straight answer on what the title of 'Madame' in the wizarding world really meant. It clearly wasn't just to do with medicine or seniority.

He locked himself into the booth with a sigh of relief.

He hoped he didn't need to know, but it paid to be prepared. He lifted his wand and tapped the wooden lid of the book three times, uttering the words to what was becoming his favorite spell as he did so.

"Sermo Revalio, Pregnant."

He repeated the spell with every variation and tense of the word and noted the pages. They were all in the same section, and the first few paragraphs answered all of his questions.

"In the event a student becomes pregnant or fathers a child, they are required to have a paternity test done by the resident mediwitch. Once the parentage is confirmed the two students will have the choice to marry or be expelled. Unless one of the individuals involved is a faculty member, in which case the situation is no longer an internal affair."

"Should the two students opt into a marriage, to be had in front of the entire school, they will be given their own quarters fitted with everything young parents will need. Both of their course loads will be cut in half and rearranged so that their classes never overlap and so that one parent may always be caring for the child. They are also banned from all extra-curricular activities, to allow them maximum time to care for the child or children."

"Come time for OWL and NEWTS the students are only allowed to take them for the five fundamental classes; Charms, Transfiguration, Dark Arts, Herbology and Potions."

... That's it?

Shotgun marriage? Public shaming via a humiliating wedding in front of the entire school to dissuade other students from making the same mistake? Kicked off the Quidditch team? Academic career cut in half and then some? These were all pretty bad, sure, but Harry was expecting much worse. Hell, he even gets a private room with his 'wife' and a lot more free time. Until the pregnancy comes to completion, that is.

He still prayed to every deity he could think of, all 72 demons of Solomon and a fairy or two that he hadn't put a baby in her, but his life wouldn't be over if he had. Honestly, it didn't sound like a terrible life. In fact, it sounded pretty good. Marginally better than the one he had, but much worse than the one he wanted.

Neither of them would ever have a fantastic career, but honestly how many people did? He'd be able to complete his basic wizarding education, he'd finally have a family, unideal though it would be, and continue his life as a wizard.

Satisfied that no matter what happens, he'd be able to continue pushing through, he closed the book, returned it to the table, and marched into the library proper. Hopefully, this didn't turn out to be the last essay he ever did for his giant of a friend.

Notes:

I have never written an erotic scene before and in all honesty I don't particularly like them. But as you can see I didn't write it here for the sake of eroticism but as an important and useful story element.

I remind you. Both Harry and Sue are FOURTEEN in Goblet of Fire. Way too young to safely do this kind of thing. To people that age such behavior is foolish and destructive, and is itself like a branch of magic with terrible consequences to those who fail to respect it. In other words the EXACT kind of thing my story calls for.

Also, while I won't go that route for this story, I'm sure you all noticed how the fine text of this Hogwarts rule could be used to get Harry out of the Tournament. Feel free to steal that idea for a story of your own. Or any idea in my stories. Just be sure to tell me so in a review and give credit in your story.

I was going to make this chapter longer, but decided it had gone on long enough. I cut out the essay writing for the first half of the next chapter.

(A/N - 1)

Seriously ladies. That hurts. Don't grind so roughly when we're balls deep. We're too polite to say anything when it happens, but still.

Remember. In and out. In and out.

(A/N - 2)

I sure as hell was oblivious to the interest of women as a teenager. Some of it was really obvious. I blame it on the fact that so many women of all ages fake interest to get what they want that all of us guys assume you all are. It's a sad state of affairs. Like most issues, both sexes are being dumbasses.

(A/N - 3)

It wasn't my intention to harp on U.K sex scandals in particular, after all the U.S has Hollywood - a vile hive of pedophilia. Hell, one of our previous presidents regularly visited Epstein's rape island via the Lolita Express where pedophilic orgies were regular occurrences. So don't get the impression I'm unfairly critical of your island.

I just think Magical Britain would be more focused on the sex crimes in their own lands.

Also I wanted the magical world to be better than the Muggle world in at least one regard, and I picked sex crimes.

Makes sense. They have such a higher capacity to get away with rape that they would need a much more serious legal standard and social shaming to combat monsters who would use magic for such things.

Hell, in my own head canon even Voldemort doesn't tolerate such behavior from his followers. Though this has less to do with his disgust for his rapist of a mother, and more to do with his fake purebloods beliefs(Which he obviously doesn't actually believe). To quote Cedric of Wassax - "We don't mix with these people."

(A/N - 4)

Arriane Cauderdale is an OC from the story A Wizard Who Meddled With Time. An excellently well-written and hilarious fanfiction by Team Otters. Go read it while you wait for my next chapter if you haven't already. Its the second funniest fanfiction I have ever read, right behind Havoc Side of The Force.

I am stealing her without a hint of shame because I think she's a great and interesting character who only had one scene in the aforementioned fanfiction before it was abandoned. I am also stating that she was the "fifth year" who asked him to the ball in GOF who he was worried would "knock him out if he said no".

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NonsensicalRants
- Patrons who pledge 3 Dollars get all future chapters 2 weeks early and a link to the discord server. They also get access to all commissioned works, which is the only source of X-rated scenes from me. I'm not holding them hostage; I just don't want my name tied to X-rated stuff. I keep it PG-13 unless paid to do otherwise. If enough people pay me, I'll become a fulltime smut writer and make it public. Wear it with pride. It's also just not allowed on FFnet.

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Commission Me:
- I take commissions for $20 per 1000 words, less if you provide me with a half-decent outline. I don't just do fanfiction either. I will ghostwrite what you pay me to ghostwrite.
/NonsensicalRants