V

Paternal Instinct

Ben realised basically from the minute stepped off the Hogwarts Express his first year that girls really, really liked him. He was very attractive, with floppy, light brown hair that gradually became more thickly curled as he got older, a very tall and thin frame, and golden skin—he'd inherited his mother's easily-tanned skin, not his father's freckly epidermis. He also had the added charm of being devoted to a Muggle activity, and the appeal of rebelling against a Hogwarts tradition. So it was no surprise that he would find himself in the predicament he had stumbled upon during his third year.

But let's start from the beginning, shall we?

He was sitting in The Three Broomsticks with Liam one frosty winter day soon before Christmas. Love was in the air, as always around the holidays, and the two were witnessing a group of Hufflepuff girls from their year ogling at Ben from afar.

"I'm telling you, she wants you," Liam assured, sipping his butterbeer cautiously. He had yet to take off his gloves, coat, and scarf, even though they'd been in the tavern for quite some time.

"Stop," Ben ordered. He didn't want to get overly self-assured.

"I'm not joking though. Why else would they be staring and giggling at you?"

"They're staring and laughing at you. You haven't even taken your bloody gloves off yet."

Liam frowned and started peeling off his layers resentfully. "You need to have more confidence. Please just realize that every girl in this school is in love with you."

"Please stop."

"Do you think any of those girls are pretty?" Liam started shaking his arm violently, attempting to get his coat off.

Ben studied the four girls from afar during the short moment they had chosen to look away. They were talking avidly amongst themselves. "I guess… whatever her name is—Jemma Finch-Fletchley. She's kind of pretty."

"There you go. You can have Jemma Finch-Fletchley in a heartbeat."

"Whatever. Why are we talking about this? Only girls talk about this kind of stuff. This is what they're supposed to be talking about, not us."

Liam rolled his eyes. "All I'm saying is that you can just go up to Jemma and say, 'Hey Jemma, let's go walk down the street together.' And she'd jump up and go walk down the street with you."

"I don't even get the point you're trying to make."

"My point is," Liam slammed his hand on the table, "is that you have complete control over them. You can do whatever you want."

"Yeah, yeah."

However uninterested Ben may have sounded, his cousin's motivational speech did have some residual effects on his thoughts. As they returned to classes that Monday, Liam's voice kept slipping into his mind… You have complete control over them… You can do whatever you want…

He rather liked that idea.

So as he was making his way to the Great Hall for lunch one day, he was pleased to see Jemma on her way down a semi-crowded third floor corridor, presumably heading to the same destination. He sped up just a bit, ready to accidentally bump into her. He walked by and knocked her books a little.

"Sorry—" He turned around. "Oh, hey, Jemma."

Wasn't he just King Smooth?

"Hi," she said pleasantly.

"You heading to the Great Hall?"

She nodded. Her lips twitched just slightly, as though she was fighting the urge to burst into laughter.

He fell into line next to her as they headed toward a staircase. "So, you going home for the Christmas holiday?"

"Yeah." She pursed her lips, again as though she was forcing herself not to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

She shook her head, letting out a fast breath. "Nothing."

"Okay…" He thought for a moment. "Did you do the Defence Against the Dark Arts essay?"

"What? Oh, yeah."

"It's so hard. I've been putting it off for so long. It's due on Wednesday, right?"

"Yeah."

"What did you write about?"

"Basilisks."

"Basilisks?"

"My dad got petrified by one in his second year here, so I thought it made sense to do them, I guess."

"That's cool." Ben glanced over at her. Jemma's eyes were darting around and she looked, again, like she was trying not to laugh. He found her giggliness almost a little endearing, and kind of attractive.

"What do you think you'll do yours on?" she asked with a massive smile that suggested she was a little fed up with herself.

Ben shrugged. "That's what I can't decide." Then he stopped. They were alone in a corridor now, almost at the Great Hall. He looked up and pointed at the lone leaf of mistletoe that was dangling above their heads in a very clichéd way. Instantly the smile was torn off Jemma's face as though she'd just been pounced on by a Dementor.

"Mistletoe," he said stupidly.

Jemma blinked.

Of course, at Hogwarts, this wasn't just any mistletoe; this was charmed mistletoe, and soon Jemma and Ben could feel their heads gravitating towards one another.

Ben was quite elated that this mistletoe was charmed, because, although he was a pretty audacious young thirteen-year-old, he was going to have to muster up a bit more self-confidence to be able to just start kissing Jemma Finch-Fletchley in the middle of a potentially crowded first floor hallway.

And needless to say, very, very deep down inside, Jemma couldn't help but feel somewhat proud that she was the girl who took away Ben Weasley's kissing virginity.

"Miss Malfoy?"

Iris's head snapped up from the unkempt split ends she had been examining.

"Miss Malfoy, when I ask you a question, it would be kind of you to respond," Professor McGonagall scolded.

"Sorry." Iris let her fingerful of hair fall down against her shoulder.

"Would anyone care to tell me what the Homorphus Charm is?" McGonagall glared at Iris. "This would be your chance to redeem yourself."

She put her hand up sheepishly. "It's a nonexistent charm used to change an Animagus back to their original shape."

"Why do you say it's nonexistent?"

"Well, it's never completely been proven—"

"Very good." McGonagall turned to badger another student.

Iris glanced to her right, where Caleb was sitting at the desk across from hers. He gave her a lighthearted sardonic thumbs-up. She rolled her eyes, but in the corner of her vision she could see Samantha sitting resentfully at her desk. Iris and Caleb had gotten quite a bit closer these last months of their fourth year, and Samantha was incredibly bitter about it. She hadn't spoken to Iris much in about five months. It turned out, unsurprisingly, that Iris's suspicions of Samantha's secret love for Caleb were characteristically true.

Class ended several minutes later, and Iris started gathering up her stuff. She could hear Caleb talking next to her to the kids around him, probably including her.

"Who wants to come to the Owlery with me?" he asked in a sarcastically excited voice.

Iris remembered the letter she had to send to her father. "I'll come," she offered. "I have to send my dad a letter." She glanced over in Samantha's direction. Her former friend was stalking off, catching up to two other Slytherin girls. Iris had attempted to make amends with Samantha, but she didn't really prevail in her efforts. She hoped that eventually it would all cool down—after all, it was just typical school girl drama, wasn't it?

"Let's go."

The two left the Transfiguration classroom and expertly navigated the winding halls of Hogwarts until they reached the Owlery. They found their respective owls and sent them off with their letters.

"So," Caleb started, a somewhat serious tone in his voice, "how's, you know, everything?" Most people knew about Iris's family drama. The wizarding world was an unfortunately small one.

Iris wet her lips. "It's… okay."

Caleb took a step closer to her, his foot crunching on something indiscernible on the poop-strewn ground. He made a reflexive face of severe discomfort, which caused Iris to emit the smallest of laughs. "You sure?" he asked, trying to ignore what was most likely some mouse skeleton that he had just stepped on.

She shrugged and looked away. "I don't really know anymore." Tucking a strand of thin blonde hair behind her ear, she looked back at him. She suddenly wanted to pour her heart out to Caleb. She'd never gotten particularly close to him until this year, so this newly sprouting urge was quite peculiar, but prevalent nonetheless.

"Is your mum at home right now?" Iris had no idea how Caleb knew so intimately about her mother's disappearances and reappearances, but it didn't make her nervous that he did.

She shook her head. "No. She's been gone since Christmas. My dad's a wreck, actually."

"You seem pretty calm," Caleb commented, noticing her aloof demeanour. Iris was never one to show her emotions, but he wanted her to. He knew there was something pent-up inside, and he wanted it to come out.

"I'm not." She thought she could feel the odd prickling sensation of tears in the back of her eyes. Oh, Merlin, she thought. This is getting a little too dramatic… Don't you let those bloody waterworks start up, Iris.

"Well, you know, I'm here." Iris's pale cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.

Her lip quivered ever so slightly. "I know."

Without warning Caleb pulled her into a tight embrace. Sure, they'd kissed plenty before, but what was different about this innocent little hug was that it actually meant something. It wasn't about a purely physical attraction or the fact that they were hanging out with friends and felt it would be fun to run off in a corner and go snog. This was what Caleb wanted; her true emotions were now spilling into his shirtsleeve. No one ever believed that Caleb Nott was a sensitive person with feelings, but he'd let Iris see that he was. He'd let her understand that he was a human being, and she did.

It was the very last day of their fourth year, and Liam, Edith, Ben, Georgina, and Jemma were spending it outside in the bright and heavily beaming sunshine. Liam was standing aggravated in front of a wide rock as Ben dribbled a football around and shot it without warning at Liam, sometimes uncomfortably close to his cousin's head. Meanwhile the girls lay around lazily a few feet away gossiping, as girls tend to do.

"Fabulous," Liam grumbled, noticing a few figures ascending the steps of the castle. "Here come the Arsehole Brigade."

"What?" Ben asked, kicking the ball at a peculiar angle, so it headed straight at Liam's face.

He ducked spastically. "Bloody—Jesus!" Liam frowned and whacked the ball as hard as he could angrily back at his cousin.

"Calm down. What did you say before? Who's coming?" He glanced over his shoulder. "Oh. Them."

'The Arsehole Brigade', or, more politely, 'Them' referred to Caleb, Iris, Ian, and a few other obnoxious Slytherin folk. Caleb opened his mouth as he strolled by cockily.

"What's with all the angry faces?" he questioned, quickly glimpsing at the group they'd just encountered.

"Nothing at all," replied Ben.

"Really? Because I see you all staring at me so angrily and I'm wondering what I've done—"

"What you've done?" Ben snapped around, holding the football slightly menacingly.

"Oh, put a sock in it," Edith shouted, unhappy with the constant quarrels the two were getting into.

"Look at that." Caleb raised a hand toward Edith. "Even your own sister—"

"The both of you!" she added, not even bothering to look in their direction.

Liam noticed Iris giggle just slightly at Edith's interjection, her black eyes glistening.

The group continued marching across the grounds.

"Where are they off to?" Ben wondered, squeezing the ball so tightly it looked as though he might pop it.

"Probably to do something illegal," said Liam.

"You know, Edith, I don't understand why you needed to butt in like that," said Ben agitatedly.

"Because you're just digging yourself deeper, Ben," she explained, rolling over on the grass. "You need to start being the bigger person."

"Bigger person my arse! Who was the bigger person and ever actually got anywhere?"

Edith rolled her eyes.

It was a filthily sticky day in July and Liam was unhappily making his way through Diagon Alley in search for a birthday present for Virginie. It was her sixteenth birthday in just a few days, and Ginny had thrust a pouch of Galleons at her son and sent him off without so much as a simple instruction like, "Get her something for her owl!" or "She likes leather-bound books!" Needless to say, Liam was a bit beyond perturbed.

He made his first stop in Eeylops Owl Emporium. The upsetting stench of animal feces was the first to enter his nose. He started through the rows and rows of various animals and all the little tidbits and knick-knacks one could buy to accompany their pet. He was pretty sure that Virginie had an owl, however he wasn't really sure what she might need for it. There was an alarm that went off every time the owl relieved itself. But that would probably get really annoying if you had an animal that did so a lot, as animals are prone to doing. Then there was the owl tracking device that notified you if your owl didn't reach its destination within a certain amount of days. It was fairly expensive, however. Liam was very close to buying the owl food that turned the animal's feathers various colours depending on which piece it ate. He pictured the look on his mum's face when he brought that home, however, and put it back on its shelf. His father, on the other hand, would probably get a kick out of it. But it wasn't quite worth it.

Empty handed, Liam left the store and crossed the street to Flourish & Blott's. Maybe Virginie wouldn't quite mind a leather-bound book of some sort. He was excited to discover a section marked "Teen Reading" upstairs toward the back of the store. After browsing and snickering at the titles—Why I Should've Used the Contraceptive Charm, Vampire Love, A Muggle Affair—something finally caught Liam's eye. Unfortunately, it wasn't a book. He caught sight of a patch of blindingly white blonde hair through the space in the bookshelf from which he had just retrieved A Muggle Affair. Crouching down just a bit, Liam was able to see Iris Malfoy through the gap. Just as he was staring up at her, for the split second that he happened to be doing so, she turned and looked straight at him. He snapped upright and shoved A Muggle Affair back in its place, horrifyingly embarrassed by his actions. He was just looking at her to confirm that she was Iris and that he wasn't just imagining things, and now he looked like he was stalking the girl. A few moments later, she appeared at the end of the aisle.

"I didn't know you were a fan of the Young Witch genre," she said, somehow without the expected drips of spite and malice in her voice.

"I'm shopping for my cousin," Liam replied, afraid his cheeks would burst into flame within the minute.

"It's alright; I won't tell anyone."

"No, seriously."

She looked at him slightly dubiously. "Just because my boyfriend can be a complete jerk and hates you for no reason doesn't mean that I am or do."

"You don't hate me?"

"I don't know you."

"Fair enough." He paused, his eyes lingering on A Muggle Affair. "Any suggestions?"

"Who's it for?"

"Virginie."

"I don't really know her. You sure she's into this type of book?"

Liam shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea."

She grabbed a spine and dragged it off the bookshelf, dropping it in Liam's hands. "Go with this one." It was then she who shrugged, before marching off to her side of the bookshelves.

Liam looked down. A Muggle Affair. Well, then.

Liam went back downstairs and purchased the book. He stepped outside and it wasn't long before he spotted another Hogwarts student. It was very unfortunate how common it was to see Hogwarts kids prowling around Diagon Alley. This time it was Caleb, and Liam briefly wondered if he was off looking for Iris, when the Slytherin boy took a sharp turn and headed down Knockturn Alley.

Liam's unfortunate Harry-like stalker instinct kicked in and he felt as though now was as good a time as ever to follow someone around. So he did just that and scampered over to Knockturn Alley.

He's never actually been down Knockturn Alley before, but it was just as he imagined it—dank, creepy, and bad-smelling. Somehow the temperature dropped about ten degrees as he entered the shady street. Caleb was creeping about rather determinedly. Finally, he entered a store. The words Borgin and Burkes were written above the big glass window in the front of the shop in fancy—yet somehow malevolent—cursive. Liam felt a little lost, so he decided to wait awkwardly outside and pretend that he didn't look completely out of place and obviously uncomfortable. He found a strategic spot where his body would be hidden from Caleb's view, but he was still able to peer through the window of the shop and see what the boy was up to. Liam could see Caleb approach the counter and begin talking to someone, but from his angle could not make out who it was.

Finally they got to the good stuff and an item was placed on the counter in front of Caleb. It was a ring. Liam craned his neck to get a better look, but wasn't nearly close enough to be able to tell what was on it. All he could see was that it was very large. However, Caleb never put it on. He simple examined it very slowly for quite some time before handing over a large sum of money. He then glanced toward the entrance of the shop and caught sight of Liam, before Liam could even realise that he was standing so visibly in the window. Caleb leered at Liam and quickly came outside.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said obnoxiously.

"You know, just…" Liam glanced around. "Refilling my usual stock of… shrunken heads."

"Well, I'd appreciate it if next time you went shopping that you took care to not spy on me."

"I wasn't spying on you," Liam attempted.

But Caleb had already turned around and was off to the even murkier depths of the alley. "Alright, then."

Liam scowled but went on his way nonetheless. He was getting a bit too creeped out.

Hermione was sitting on her and Ron's bed with an absolutely terrified look on her face.

"What?" Ron asked, entering the bedroom from the adjoining bathroom.

Hermione stared blankly into the distance. "Do you think Ben and Jemma are having sex?"

Ron almost leapt up into the air in shock and horror. Instead, his neck snapped around to face his wife so quickly that he got whiplash, and his eyes had turned the size of Quaffles. "What?!" he repeated.

Hermione's face was slowly forming a grimace. "I mean, think about it—they're almost sixth-years. They're sixteen. They're certainly old enough to be thinking about it, at the very least."

"But just because they're thinking about it doesn't mean that we have to!" Ron looked rather ridiculous, standing in the center of the room, having stopped changing his clothes halfway through the process. He stood in a dress shirt and boxers, with his arms open wide in confusion and disbelief.

"If they are, having sex then you need to talk to Ben about it."

"Me?! I need to talk to Ben?" He pointed an accusatory finger at his wife. "Why can't you do it?"

"Think about how uncomfortable it would be for him if his mother tried to talk to him about sex." Hermione shook her head.

"Think about how uncomfortable it will be for me that I have to talk to my sixteen-year-old son about the potential sex he might be having with his girlfriend!"

"You're being ridiculous, Ron. This is what comes with parenthood." She paused, eyeing him dubiously. "And put some pants on, please."

Ron scoffed and finished changing before climbing into bed. "I know this is what comes with parenthood, but we should've done it long ago and now it's too late."

"It's never too late for things that are important. You need to teach him the proper use of the contraceptive charm—"

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!"

"Didn't your father ever have this conversation with you?"

"No. I have five older brothers, Hermione."

"Fine. Then you'll have the talk with Ben and he can give it to Ewan and Angus, and that will be that."

Ron didn't speak for a moment. He lay with his back to Hermione, breathing heavily. "Well, then you have to promise you'll give Edith her speech."

"Okay. But there's not much to tell her."

"Why not?" He rolled over quickly and propped himself up on his arm.

Hermione shrugged simply. "Because girls are smarter. We just know these things."

Author's Note: The end. Please review! If you've read book seven yet, just continue on as though whatever works happened, and whatever doesn't work with that book didn't happen.